#GOD. i’m about to become insane don’t mind me

[astrobei]

just cried so much over arcane e3 this already might be one of my favorite shows ever

[pucksandpower]

Rockabye Baby

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: you and Oscar take the next step in building your family … just not in the way that anyone expected

Note: I really wanted to get something silly and cute posted for Mother’s Day — and so this was born! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it 🫶

You snuggle closer to Oscar in bed, resting your head on his chest as his fingers lazily trail up and down your arm. It’s been an exhausting few weeks on the road, with races back-to-back, but these quiet moments together make it all worth it.

“Osc?” You murmur sleepily. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, babe.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything.”

You hesitate, not sure if you should broach the subject. But you’ve been together for years now, surely he’s thought about it too? “Have you ever, you know … thought about having kids?”

Oscar tenses slightly, his fingers stilling on your skin. “Kids?”

“Yeah.” You prop yourself up on one elbow to study his face. “We’re not getting any younger. And I know racing is your whole life, but … I don’t know, I think you’d make an amazing dad.”

A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “You do, huh?” His fingers resume their gentle stroking along your arm. “I can’t lie, the idea terrifies me. All the responsibility, the pressure ...” He blows out a long breath. “But with you by my side? I think we could make it work.”

Hope blooms in your chest and you lean in to kiss him, long and lingering. “Really? You mean that?”

“Well, not right this second.” He chuckles, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “But someday? Definitely.”

You beam at him, buzzing with a childlike excitement you haven’t felt in years. “Oscar Piastri, future father. I can’t wait.”

He pulls you close, tucking you under his chin. “Me neither. Now get some rest, yeah? Big day tomorrow.”

You hum contentedly, letting his steady heartbeat lull you toward sleep. Kids with Oscar … you can’t imagine anything better.

A few days later, you’re curled up on the sofa after a long day of work, idly scrolling through your phone while Oscar pads around the flat. He’s been oddly restless and fidgety all evening, but you’ve learned not to question his little quirks. He’ll open up when he’s ready.

“So,” he begins, sinking onto the couch beside you with an adorably nervous expression. “You know how the other night you mentioned, um … wanting to be a mum someday?”

You perk up instantly, setting your phone aside as your pulse kicks up a notch. “Yeah?”

“Well.” He ducks his head shyly, then pulls something from behind his back — a small, smooth rock, painted in garish shades of papaya. “I got you this.”

You blink at him. “A … rock?”

“It’s our baby!” He thrusts it toward you proudly. “See, I’m the dad now. Taking those first steps.”

A startled laugh bubbles up from your chest. “Oscar, you dork. That’s the cutest, most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Too much?” He grimaces, though his eyes are twinkling with barely contained mirth. “I just thought, you know, we could start small. Get used to the idea before, uh, before anything bigger.”

“Oh my god, I love you.” You take the rock from his hand, cradling it tenderly as you peck his cheek. “Hi there, little guy. Hope you don’t mind a slightly non-traditional family.”

“Not at all.” Oscar drapes his arm around your shoulders as you lean into his side. “We’ll just raise him to be open-minded and accepting. Like his mum.”

“His mum who gave birth to him in pebble form, you mean?”

Oscar shrugs unapologetically. “He’ll be the talk of the playground.”

You dissolve into helpless giggles, nestling even closer. “This is certifiably insane, you know that? I can’t believe we’re grown adults playing house with a pet rock.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.” Oscar nuzzles into the crook of your neck, warm and solid against you. “We’re new parents. We can do whatever we want.”

Over the next few days, Rocky, as you’ve lovingly dubbed him, becomes a constant presence. You bring him along when you travel to the next race, introducing him proudly to the team. Lando takes one look and bursts out laughing.

“What the bloody hell is that thing?”

“Our son,” Oscar says with a straight face. “Would you like to meet your nephew?”

“You two are properly mental.” But there’s an unmistakable fondness in Lando’s smile as he gently pokes at Rocky. “S’pose he takes after his dad, eh?”

You crack up at the offended look on Oscar’s face. “Oh, trust me, I’ll be handling most of the heavy lifting around here.”

From there, it only escalates. Rocky gets his own tiny race suit, his own seat in Oscar’s car (firmly buckled in, of course — safety first). You find yourself referring to him with increasingly outlandish endearments.

“Here, let me get the handsomest stone in the whole wide world a bottle before we try tummy time.��

“How’s my little pebble today? Did you sleep okay in your bassinet?”

Logan nearly falls over laughing the first time he sees Rocky strapped into a miniature car seat on the plane between races.

“You guys are too much, man.” He shakes his head in bewildered amusement. “Where do you even find stuff like that?”

Oscar smirks. “Parents have their ways.”

The joke takes on a life of its own, morphing from a silly gag into a full-blown inside joke, an ever-present reminder that someday, when you’re both ready, you really will have a baby of your own to dote on. For now, though, raising Rocky together is more than enough.

It really hits you one evening as the team celebrates Oscar’s latest podium finish. You’re sitting with a small group, letting the lively chatter of friends and team members wash over you, when you become aware of Oscar sitting across from you. He’s got Rocky nestled in the crook of his elbow, cooing nonsense as he gently jostles him.

“Who’s a good little guy? You are, that’s who. Gonna grow up big and strong like your dad, yeah?” His expression is so tender, so achingly soft, that you feel your heart swell fit to burst.

He’s going to be an incredible father someday, you realize with a jolt of startling clarity. Look at how natural it comes to him, how happy and content he seems, just cradling that silly rock.

Later that night, you find yourself curled around Oscar in bed, trailing feather-light kisses along the line of his throat. He hums deep in his chest, tangling one hand in your hair to tug you closer.

“Mmm, what was that for?”

“Nothing.” You prop your chin on his chest, drinking in the achingly handsome lines of his face. “You just … you’re gonna be such an amazing dad, you know that?”

A bashful smile tugs at his lips as his free hand smooths along the curve of your hip. “Yeah? You really think so?”

“I know so.” You reach out to trace the sharp line of his jaw with one fingertip. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.”

Oscar’s gaze softens to molten gold in the dim light. “Not nearly as lucky as we are to have you. You’re the best mum Rocky could’ve asked for.”

He kisses you then, deep and searing, pulling you flush against him as the world around you falls away. And when he finally breaks away, breathless but beaming, you know without a shadow of a doubt:

Whenever the time comes, whenever you meet your real baby … everything is going to be okay. More than okay.

Because you’ll have Oscar by your side, just like always. Your partner, your best friend, and the love of your life.

***

Five Years Later

You cradle your newborn daughter to your chest, gazing down at her perfect little face in pure wonderment. It’s only been a few hours since she made her entrance into the world, but you’re already hopelessly in love.

“She’s beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, voice thick with unshed tears as he brushes one reverent fingertip along her downy cheek. “Just like her mum.”

You lean into him, overcome. This right here — the two of you and your brand new baby girl — is everything you’ve ever wanted. All those years of loving Oscar, of dreaming about starting a family together … it was all leading to this shining moment.

A soft knock at the door breaks the tranquil silence. Oscar shoots you a quizzical look as a familiar face pokes his head in.

“This a bad time?” Lando grins crookedly. “I come bearing gifts for the little one.”

“Lando!” You can’t help but beam at the sight of your friend. “Get in here, you muppet.”

He slips inside, toeing off his shoes with a cheeky wink in your direction. “Well someone’s in a good mood. Can’t imagine why.”

“Are you kidding? I’m amazing. Completely knackered, but amazing.” You gesture for him to come closer with your free hand. “Here, come meet Oscar’s little co-driver.”

Lando’s expression melts into something unbearably soft as he peers down at the tiny bundle in your arms. “Aww, mate … she’s perfect. Well done, you two.”

“Do you, uh ...” Oscar clears his throat gruffly. “D’you want to hold her?”

For a moment, Lando looks almost scared, like a deer caught in the headlights. Then he nods jerkily, settling into the bedside chair with surprising care as you transfer your daughter into his arms. He cradles her close with the utmost tenderness, rocking her ever so slightly as she lets out the faintest sigh.

“Look at you,” he breathes, sounding utterly besotted already. “Just a teeny little thing, aren’t you?”

It’s like seeing an entirely different side of him, one you never could have anticipated. Not the cheeky, irreverent joker you’ve known for years, but a man, a friend, wholly disarmed by new life and possibility. You exchange a look with Oscar, heart fit to bursting.

“So,” Lando continues, still totally entranced by the baby. “I know we ribbed you mercilessly for a while there about the whole rock baby thing ...”

Your mouth falls open in recollection. “Lando, please don’t-”

But he’s already reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a familiar splash of textured papaya. “But there’s no way I’d let my favorite nephew miss out on this.”

Rocky, battered and faded but unmistakable, sits nestled in Lando’s palm. You nearly choke on a startled laugh.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Hold up, there’s more.” Lando somehow manages to keep cradling the baby with one arm as he bends down with the other, hauling a plastic bucket onto the bed. You gape at the contents — dozens upon dozens of smooth pebbles, each one lovingly decorated in bright shades of orange.

“Had to get the whole family involved, didn’t I?” Lando says with a shameless grin. “She’s got loads of brothers and sisters to look after her now.”

You swat at him in a flood of exasperated affection. “You absolute prick. Look at you, being all sentimental.”

“Me? Never.” But the shine of unshed tears in his eyes contradicts the words. He transfers the baby back to you with exaggerated care, then takes a moment to stroke one gentle finger along her tiny cheek. “You’ve got one hell of a village behind you, little one.”

Over the next short while, Lando pulls up a chair and regales you all with outrageous stories and anecdotes, all while Rocky and his “siblings“ make the rounds, passed from person to person like favorite old friends. At one point, Oscar’s cradling your human baby in one arm and your original baby rock in the other, murmuring nonsense to them both as you blink back tears for what feels like the thousandth time that day.

“Look at you,” you say in awe, drinking in the sight. “My little family.”

Oscar meets your gaze over the top of your daughter’s head, his own eyes shining. “Our family,” he corrects softly.

You’re still reveling in that realization when a quiet knock sounds at the door. A nurse bustles in with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, but we’re going to need to move the baby to the nursery soon. Just for a little while to let mum rest.”

Oh. You clutch your daughter closer on instinct, chest caving with an aching reluctance you weren’t expecting. How can you possibly bear to let her go already?

But then Lando slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Oi, it’s alright. We’ll keep an eye on her for you, yeah? Give Uncle Lando and Mini Piastri some quality time.”

Rocky sits nestled in his other palm, as stalwart and patient as ever even after all these years. You nod quickly, swiping at your damp cheeks as you kiss your daughter’s downy head one last time before relinquishing her to the nurse.

“I’ll be right back, sweet girl. Don’t go growing too much while I’m gone.”

Watching her get wheeled away is harder than you could have imagined, like a physical ache in your chest. Oscar wraps you up in his arms from behind, steadying you with his usual quiet strength.

“She’s okay, babe,” he murmurs, lips brushing your hairline. “She’s just down the hall. We’re not going anywhere.”

You let his soothing words wash over you, turning into his embrace until your breathing evens out again. First lesson of parenthood learned — this part’s not easy. But you’ll get through it, just like everything else, with Oscar by your side.

Rocky sits on the bedside table, bold colors slightly faded but message as bright and clear as ever. A reminder that sometimes, the smallest, silliest things can take on the biggest meaning when it comes to family.

“Alright lovebirds,” Lando pipes up, slinging an arm around each of your shoulders. “What d’you say we bring the whole crew down to see the little miss soon, eh? Give her many uncles a chance to swoon all over her?”

You manage a watery chuckle, leaning into Lando’s side as Oscar tucks himself against your other side. Because this? This little patchwork family you’ve built around yourselves, kept close through all the chaos and the years? This is what it’s all about. The fierce loyalty, the bond forged by adversity and triumph and teamwork. The family you’ve chosen over and over again, year after year, through all of life’s twists and turns.

Your eyes drift to Rocky, resting quietly on the nightstand by your hospital bed. Once an inside joke, a silly gift from your husband to make you smile. Now a treasured heirloom, a precious mascot for the latest member of your ever-expanding clan.

Maybe you’ll hold onto that little rock for another few decades, you muse, draping one arm around Oscar’s trim waist. Long enough for your daughter — and any other little ones who may eventually join her — to grow up passing him between chubby baby fists. Long enough for your grandchildren to gather around and listen to stories about.

“Come on then,” you’ll say with an indulgent smile. “Let Granny tell you the story of Rocky. How he was the very first baby in our little family ...”

***

r/offmychest

u/NumberOneRockHater · 9h

My parents and entire family are convinced a ROCK is my older brother!

Okay, I have to get this off my chest because it’s been driving me crazy for years. My parents and extended family are all obsessed with this rock that they insist is my older brother “Rocky” (ugh, I know).

I’m talking full-on delusion levels here. Ever since before I was born, my dad got my mom this painted rock as a joke “baby”. Well, the joke escalated to the point where they started taking this rock everywhere, dressing it up in little outfits, calling it “him”, the whole nine yards.

At first I thought it was just a weird little quirk, you know? Silly but harmless. Except it never stopped. I’m 16 years old now and my PARENTS STILL REFER TO THIS ROCK AS MY SIBLING.

It’s always “Where’s your brother?” and “Did you pack Rocky’s bag for our trip?” and “Don’t forget to wish your brother a happy birthday!” My uncle (who is the WORST enabler) will show up to every family event pulling more painted rocks out of his pockets like “Look, more kids for you guys!”

Meanwhile I’m just standing there like a crazy person. How is nobody else concerned that my entire family has deluded themselves into believing a literal inanimate object is a sentient being?

And the real kicker? This dumb rock has been passed around and adored more than me, an actual human child. I have clear memories of being like 6 years old and my parents getting legitimately UPSET at me for dropping Rocky on the ground. While I’m standing right there!

My dad loves telling this stupid story about the day I was born, how my uncle showed up at the hospital like “I brought the baby’s siblings!” and pulled out an entire bucket of painted pebbles. PEBBLES, PEOPLE. As my “brothers and sisters”?

I’m honestly losing my mind here. No matter how much I protest or roll my eyes, they always play it off as a silly inside joke. Like yeah, I’m sure getting your knickers in a twist over my lack of acknowledgment for THE ROCK YOU NAMED AND CLAIM IS MY SIBLING is a totally normal thing to do! My mum actually teared up the last time I put my foot down, saying she could never abandon her “firstborn.” Um, hello? I was the firstborn, you weirdos!

At this point, I have to assume that either A) My parents and family are all certifiable and living in a shared psychosis, or B) This is some sort of Truman Show situational prank that I’m not in on.

Is it too late to be adopted by a normal family? Or do I need to be the one committed for dealing with this nonsense?

Please tell me I’m not actually going insane here. Anybody else have a family this completely deluded?

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u/NosyAndProud · 8h

LOL no way, your family sounds hilarious! I’m dying at the image of your poor teen self dealing with this ongoing rocky sibling chronicle. But in their defense, you’ve gotta admit it’s a pretty creative way to memorialize a dumb inside joke, right?

My advice? Lean into it. Get your big brother an outfit for the next family gathering. Play fight with “him” in front of your friends and horrify them. TP the house and blame it on Rocky’s delinquent behavior. The possibilities for messing with everyone are endless!

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 6h

I’m honestly crying, your suggestions have me wheezing! Although if I DID embrace this, I’m pretty sure my uncle would lose his mind. He’s already brought enough “rock siblings” for an entire pebble daycare at this point.

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u/JudgingLoudly · 7h

This is sending me! I’m just imagining you as a little kid, trying to argue with your parents about why inanimate objects can’t actually be siblings. And them being full-on “Well ackshually, this is Rocky your brother” 🤓☝️

But also lowkey it’s kinda sweet? I mean objectifying nonliving things is usually a bad idea (see every Disney movie ever). But if it’s just a quirky tradition that brings your family joy and makes them feel special, who are we to judge? You only get one weird childhood!

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 5h

Yes, exactly! It was always “But Rocky will be so disappointed if you don’t share your toys with him!” Like … what?

And don’t get me wrong, they’re wonderful parents and we’re a very close, loving family. That’s what makes this particular shared psychosis so baffling! Just a big ol’ collective break from reality to obsess over this stupid rock, I guess.

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u/LiveForDrama · 4h

Ok but real talk, I would give ANYTHING to have been a fly on the wall when your uncle first unveiled the “siblings” 💀 I’m picturing this grown man deadass pulling pebbles out of his pockets and ceremoniously announcing “Here’s baby Pumice, and little Granite, and this one is called Basalt ...”

And your parents were just like “Why, HELLO THERE LITTLE ONES! WHAT DELIGHTFUL NEW ADDITIONS TO OUR BROOD!” Just … no questions asked. No commentary on the total insanity. God, I love families.

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 3h

You have NO idea. I still have flashbulb memories of being like 10 years old, walking into the living room to find my GROWN-ASS UNCLE lying on the floor, lining up those idiotic pebbles and introducing them one by one.

Meanwhile my dad is on the couch COOING at them and having full-on conversations like “Isn’t that right, little fella? Your uncle just loves to spoil you, doesn’t he?” MY BRAIN COULD NOT COMPUTE.

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u/GlassHalfFull · 2h

Ok, gotta say … as someone raised by very boring, no-nonsense parents, I’m just a lil bit jealous of the sheer unrestrained WHIMSY your family has cultivated here.

Like, you’ll always have this hilarious shared experience to look back on! Sure it’s a rock, but it’s THEIR rock, you know? That’s beautiful in a weird way. At least your childhood wasn’t mind-numbing evenings full of tax documents and khaki pantsuits?

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 1h

Haha, you make a good point! I definitely can’t say my childhood was dull, that’s for sure. Although I do have traumatic memories of losing Rocky at a rest stop when I was 5, and my parents freaking out for hours until we found him under a vending machine. Totally normal.

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[bloodibambiidoll]

What would Rafe be like with weird!girl having to use their safe word? Also what do you reckon she’d use it for?

Okay so !! She’s only ever used it a few times but I think one thing would be edging her when she’s like really needy. Just like to the point that she can’t take it anymore bc she’s spoiled and overwhelmed and wants to cum. And he’s a sucker for her so he would, in fact, let her cum. There’s a lil callback to this blurb in this also. Ty for the request bb! 🤍

Warnings: Orgasm denial, pussy eating, fingering, pussy slapping, use of a safe word, Rafe calling reader “bats”, daddy kink, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, baby talk and gooey fluff at the end.

Rafe has been pushing you to the edge with his tongue and fingers and then ripping your orgasms away from you for what feels like hours now. No matter how hard you beg he won’t fuck you or let you cum and you feel like you’re going to go insane. Your pussy is pulsing and your entire body shakes as tears stream down your face, streaking your cheeks with your prettily applied make up. Your body is covered in a layer of sweat and your chest heaves from how loud you’ve been moaning and whining underneath him.

“Please let me cum Rafe -“ Your fiancé pulls his fingers and lips from you to land a harsh smack on your aching cunt and send you a look of disapproval. “Ah fuck! I’m sorry! Daddy, please please let me cum!”

“You’ll cum when I say you get to cum, your pussy belongs to me. I say when she gets to gush for me. Not you.” Rafe thrusts his fingers back into your puffy, dripping cunt and it causes you to yelp and arch your back off the bed. He pumps them in and out of you at a rough pace, curling his fingers against your walls and bullying your sweet spot. His thumb comes up to rub circles on your slick clit and it makes your eyes roll into the back of your head as your pussy pulses around his thick digits. You’re so close and you think he’s going to finally let you cum but the minute that you’re about to finally tip over the edge it’s ripped away from you again. Rafe pulls his fingers out of you to smack your aching core and a loud sob rips through you.

“Daddy, please, please let me cum. I’m yours, only yours, my pussy is yours my cum is yours my body is yours. Please just fuck me!” Your voice is practically a babble from begging and sobbing and Rafe just smirks down at you. Loving you like this. And usually you love it too. But this is the longest it’s gone on and you’re starting to become delirious from how badly your body wants a release. You didn’t even do anything. It’s not your fault Mr. Robinson saw you at the country club and decided a good time to say hi was when Rafe went to the bathroom. When Rafe came out and saw him practically fucking you with his eyes he saw red. He grabbed you by the waist and hauled your ass home immediately. But not without giving the older man a piece of his mind, of course.

“Mmm, I don’t think I will, princess.” Rafe chuckles as he leans down between your legs and licks a stripe along your pussy to your clit before thrusting his tongue into your hole. He flicks it inside you and swirls it around while his hand comes up to give your throbbing clit attention. He rotates between fucking you with his fingers and his tongue, never letting your clit go untouched. When he sucks it hard into his mouth with his fingers rubbing against your g-spot you know you’re about to cum, your legs try to clamp around his head but he uses his free hand to keep you spread open for him. The knot in your stomach tightens and your walls spasm around his fingers. Half broken sobs leave your mouth as you beg him to let you finally cum.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum, please daddy!” You attempt to thrust your hips against his face to push yourself over the edge but his hold is too strong, and then it’s gone. He pulls away from you entirely, sitting up on his knees looking down at you with a fire in his eyes as he takes his dripping fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean before smirking down at you devilishly. And normally you would think that was insanely hot but all it does is make you sob. You know your period is close and it’s making you extra needy and the fact that he stopped again nearly devastates you.

“You’re so pretty like this, my pretty little slut begging me to let her cum. Crying f’me.” Rafe swipes his thumb across your cheek, wiping some of your tears clean. Then he uses his tear stained fingers to spread your pussy lips before pumping them inside of you, not even giving you time to think before he’s pushing you to the edge and pulling you away again. And then he’s fucking you with his tongue again and this time when he rips away you can’t take it anymore. Your eyes hurt from the mascara running into them and your thighs are sore from the way he’s kept you propped open. The worst part is despite how bad your pussy aches you still want to cum so badly and you know he’s not going to let you. He promised you that on the drive home.

“Pumpkin! Pumpkin! No more, no more.” You shake your head from side to side as buckets of tears stream down your face and your entire body shakes with sobs. Rafe’s demeanor changes immediately, you’ve only ever used the safe word one other time when he was choking you so hard with his belt that you passed out twice, his perfect little freak. But right now? He’s realizing these aren’t the kind of tears he likes to see coming from his girl.

“Shit. I’m sorry baby. It’s okay, come ere.” Rafe unties his sweats so he can pull out his thick, hard cock. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dying to cum for a while now himself. He gathers your sobbing form into his arms and leans back against the headboard with you straddling him. “Daddy will give you what you need, aight? Just shhh, it’s okay.”

Rafe runs his hands through your hair and places a soft peck on your lips before raising your hips so he can line his cock up with your entrance and push himself inside you in one thrust. The feeling of finally him fucking you makes your eyes cross and fills you with relief. Rafe plants his feet flat on the bed so he can fuck up into you rough and deep.

“It’s okay, Bats. You’re okay, cum for daddy.” His thumb finds your clit, he leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth and that’s all it takes to have ecstasy finally washing over you. A loud moan rips through you and your walls flutter around Rafe’s cock as a blistering explosion of pleasure overtakes your body. “That’s it, that’s my good girl. Gimme another one.”

Rafe flips you onto your back and throws your legs over his shoulders so he can fuck you even deeper. He leans down and kisses you messily, his thumb finding your abused clit as he practically folds you in half like a pretzel. You’re so sensitive that it doesn’t take much to have you gushing around his cock again. Your pretty moans and the feeling of your perfect fucking pussy has Rafe cumming right along with you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you with ropes of his cum. After catching his breath he pulls out and flips onto his back, pulling you to lay on top of him in one swift motion.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. Are you alright?” Rafe asks you softly as his hand gently caresses the curve of your back. “You’re usually into when I edge you. Did something happen?”

“Mmm, I’m okay, Rafey.” You hum and nuzzle into his firm chest. “Just gonna get my period soon and it just became too much. Wanted to cum on your cock so bad.” You look up at him with a pout and Rafe can’t help but chuckle at how cute you are.

“Yeah? Your body wants me to put a baby in you.” You scoff and swat his chest, rolling your eyes at the way he wiggles his brows down at you.

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately. Are you ovulating, babe?” You return his raised brow with one of your own and a cheshire smirk to match.

“Oh my god, just because you said your safe word doesn’t mean I won’t still beat your little ass.” Rafe smirks back at you and lands a little swat on your bare as that makes you yelp. “I love you.”

“I love you too. But don’t think changing the subject means I’m going to stop teasing you about your baby fever.” You giggle and place a kiss on his cheek as he groans.

“I don’t have fuckin’ baby fever, Bats. Get your ass up and start the shower before I get the paddle, for real. I’m gonna get you some Jammie’s.” Rafe grabs a handful of your ass before smacking it again and getting up to go toward the closet. He spends the rest of the evening pampering you with a massage, a comfort movie, and your favorite take out before making you cum until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore.

Tagging pookies: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @eddiesxangel @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @xxladymjxx @that-sarcastic-writer @sturnioloshacker

Divider by @anitalenia

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

[littlelamy]

awww reader giving rafe and the boys a what’s in my bag 😭 makes me think about influencer!reader and rafe being her number one fan, always the first to like her posts and watch her videos, and being her plus one to brand trips 🥲

a/n: thank you so much for sending a request! 💗😘

you’re lounging on the balcony of your suite, the ocean breeze brushing against your skin as you scroll through your phone. the brand trip has been flawless so far—luxury dinners, sun-soaked beach days, and glamorous events. but the highlight of every trip is having rafe by your side. he’s always there, always watching, always… hovering. it’s comforting in a way that shouldn’t be, knowing that he’s never far.

you post another photo—a candid shot of you in a bikini, sipping on a coconut drink while the sun sets behind you. within seconds, the likes start pouring in, but there’s only one notification you care about. rafe cameron liked your post.

first. always first.

a satisfied smirk tugs at your lips as you refresh the page, his name pinned at the top of the likes. it’s been like this since the beginning. rafe's obsession with you was never subtle, but lately, it's become... intense. he doesn’t just support you—he monitors everything. every post, every story, every brand collaboration. he knows about your analytics before you even check them. sometimes, you wonder if he’s more invested in your success than you are.

he walks out onto the balcony, shirtless, his eyes immediately drawn to your phone. “let me guess, another bikini pic?” he says, his voice dripping with playful jealousy, though his hand finds its place on the back of your neck, fingers tightening possessively.

you laugh, but there’s a tension in the air. “you know it’s what the followers love, rafe.”

“yeah, but i’m the only one who actually gets to see it up close,” he mutters, pulling you into his lap without waiting for you to respond. his arms wrap around your waist, and you feel the heat of his body against yours. “doesn’t stop them from commenting though, does it? all those guys thinking they’ve got a shot with you.”

you roll your eyes. “you know none of that means anything. it’s just part of the job.”

“part of the job,” he echoes, his lips brushing against your ear. “i get it, babe. but sometimes i think about how lucky they are, just to get a glimpse of you, and it drives me fucking insane. they don’t deserve it.”

his grip on your waist tightens, not painfully, but enough to remind you just how possessive he can be. rafe’s obsession has never been the unhealthy kind, but it borders on something dangerous—something thrilling. he lives for you, breathes for you, like your entire world is his, and everyone else is just background noise. and god, do you love it.

“rafe,” you murmur, turning your head to look at him. “you’re the only one who matters. you know that.”

his blue eyes darken, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he leans in, his mouth brushing against yours. “good. because i’m not letting anyone else have you.”

he kisses you like he needs to remind you who you belong to. it’s intense, like everything with rafe—his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as if he can’t stand even an inch of space between you. when he pulls back, his thumb traces your jawline, his gaze never leaving yours.

“when’s the next shoot?” he asks, his voice low, almost a growl. “i’m coming with you.”

“it’s tomorrow, but it’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“no,” he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument. “i want to. i need to make sure everything’s perfect for you. that the crew treats you right. that no one steps out of line.”

there it is again—that obsessive protectiveness that borders on something darker. he’s always been territorial, but lately, it’s like he’s afraid someone will swoop in and take you away, even though you’ve never given him a reason to doubt your loyalty.

you don’t mind though. rafe’s obsession with you is as intoxicating as it is overwhelming. you’ve always liked the way he watches you—like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him. and honestly? you like the power that comes with it. you know rafe would burn the world down if it meant keeping you by his side.

later that night, you’re getting ready for a dinner event hosted by one of the brands you’re working with. as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup, you can feel rafe’s eyes on you from across the room. he’s lounging on the bed, scrolling through his phone, but his attention is on you. it always is.

“are you wearing that?” he asks, his tone casual, but there’s an edge to it.

you glance down at the tight dress you’ve chosen—elegant, but definitely on the sexier side. “yeah, why? don’t you like it?”

“oh, i like it,” he says, standing up and walking over to you. he’s behind you in an instant, his hands sliding over your waist, pulling you back against him. “but so will every other guy in that room.”

you laugh softly, leaning into him. “you love when i get attention, don’t lie.”

“only if they know they can’t have you.” his hands tighten on your hips, his lips brushing against your neck. “but i’m coming with you. making sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

“you don’t trust me?” you tease, but there’s something in his intensity that excites you.

“it’s not you i don’t trust,” he mutters. “it’s them. everyone’s always trying to get close to you. but i won’t let them. they don’t deserve you. none of them.”

there’s that possessiveness again, the way he wraps himself around you like he’s trying to shield you from the rest of the world. rafe’s obsession with you is suffocating in the best way, and you thrive off it, knowing how much power you hold over him.

when you arrive at the dinner, rafe is glued to your side, his hand resting on the small of your back, eyes scanning the room for anyone who might look at you for a second too long. every time someone tries to strike up a conversation with you, he’s right there, subtly inserting himself, reminding them that you’re taken. that you’re his.

you don’t mind. in fact, you love it.

later that night, after the event, you’re back in the suite, the moonlight casting shadows across the room. rafe’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you as you undress. his eyes are dark, filled with that same obsessive hunger you’ve come to crave.

“you looked amazing tonight,” he says, his voice low. “had to stop myself from punching that guy who wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

you laugh, tossing your dress aside as you walk over to him. “you’re crazy, you know that?”

“only about you,” he murmurs, pulling you onto his lap. his hands roam your body possessively, and there’s something about the way he holds you that makes your heart race.

you know rafe’s obsession with you isn’t healthy in the conventional sense, but it’s everything you want. he’s your number one fan, your protector, your everything. and as long as he’s by your side, you know you’ll always be the center of his world.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[star-girl69]

I Did Something Bad

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: you somehow become the target of a deadly vendetta, and it ends in an overnight stay in the infirmary, a lot of blood, and a lot of your scary girlfriend being her scary self.

a/n: save me clarisse “touch her and die” la rue save me save me save me save me save me save me… this is a completely self indulgent fic and no i will not apologize. love y’all!!!!!

inspired by an ask @nvirskies sent me

I Did Something Bad - Taylor Swift

warnings: not proofread, VERY VIOLENT AND GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF Y/N GETTING INJURED!!!!! BLOOD!!!!! WOUNDS!!!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, anyways…. DANNNNNYYYYYY MY BABY!!!!! HES BACK!!!!!, ares cabin bonding time <3, FOUND FAMILY, y/n is crazy too, insane power couple who are insane together!!, y’all know what’s going on…… protective clarisse, possessive clarisse, insane clarisse, murderous clarisse, again clarisse gets a bit too into capture the flag, swearing, attempted murder!, LOTS of violence, kissing, clarisse hates talking about her feelings but she will do it for y/n, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

It’s the one place where she really gets to be in her element. That’s where she prefers to be- in the moment, hard and fast, a flurry of swords and adrenaline and the feeling of someone surrendering.

Of course, Clarisse is never the one surrendering. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone surrender to her.

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

And that love is also shared by her equally violently-minded siblings, which is why you’re sitting on her lap in the middle of the Ares cabin, listening to everyone scream and shout about tactics and plans and things that are just general boring.

Clarisse, of course, listens to everything. Silently humming to herself, drumming her fingers against your stomach, rolling her eyes and scoffing silently at some of her siblings ideas.

They all shout out ideas, but everyone knows that Clarisse has the final say.

You should probably be preparing with your own cabin- but this is just so much fun.

The tension in the room rises significantly after Nelson shuts down another one of Carrie’s ideas. Carrie has a mind made for the strategy of battle, where Nelson is all tough war and pain.

Clarisse likes to brag that she’s the perfect mix of both.

“I’m bored,” you huff, leaning back into your girlfriend. “Can they start punching each other again? Or something entertaining?”

She laughs and wraps her arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder. “You’re so violent,” she mumbles. “I’m supposed to be the violent one.”

“I jus’ think it’s really funny,” you shrug. “Like, can you blame me? It’s objectively funny.”

Danny, your favorite of Clarisse’s siblings, skitters through his older siblings and throws himself onto the couch next to you.

“Did they start fighting yet?” he asks, practically bouncing in his seat.

“No,” you sigh, dramatically.

Clarisse puts her arm around his shoulder, and you know she feels ridiculously proud over the fact that she’s the favorite of the most lovable member of the Ares cabin, and the fact you’re literally draped over her.

Not your fault she’s so comfy.

“Hey, how you feelin’ about tomorrow?” you ask Danny.

His face hardens. “I’m gonna fuck a bitch up.”

“Oh, my Gods,” you mutter, listening to Clarisse chuckle and pat his back.

“Hell yeah,” she smiles.

“Good!” you say after a second, feeling slightly disturbed over the 11 year-old’s colorful language. But, who are you to stop him?

Clarisse sighs after a moment, and you look up to see Carrie and Nelson finally at each other’s throats. Besides for the fact it’s just so funny when the siblings fight, they should get all of the anger out now so they can work as a team tomorrow.

“Well, no, Nelson, we aren’t gonna fucking ‘kill them with kindness,’ because that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, fuckers,” Clarisse says, but they’re too absorbed in the fight to hear her.

You scramble off of her, climbing over Danny, watching in amazement as he opens the bag of pretzels he did not have in his hand a second ago- stuffing one in his mouth and holding it out to you.

These pretzels might have been buried in between the couch cushions. But they’re sealed, so who cares.

“You know what, fuck you, Carrie!” Nelson shouts, pushing her back.

“Askin’ for it,” she laughs, winding up and punching him straight in the face.

You can’t feel bad for the crunch, because Nelson should have know Carrie was gonna punch him- he could have at least put in an effort to stop her. Instead, he just stood there and took it.

“Oh,” Matty winces, sliding next to you. Why the hell are random things just appearing? Did he come out of the cushions too? Probably, seeing as he’s always falling asleep. “Askin’ for it,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

Nelson recovers from the hit and jabs at Carrie- but she stands there, hand on her hip, completely still.

Clarisse catches his arm.

He’s breathing out heavily, and the room goes pretty much silent- except for you, Danny and Matty chomping on pretzels in the corner of the couch.

“You’re fuckin’ embarrassing, Nelson.”

He pulls himself away from her and huffs, heading to the bathroom to deal with his bright red cheek.

Clarisse sighs heavily.

“Gods, can’t have one night without someone punching someone.”

Carrie looks around the room with a smug smile, scoffing when Clarisse shoulders her as she walks past. She lays down in your waiting arms, kissing your hand as you wrap them around her.

“Gettin’ on my nerves,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and leaning into you.

“I know,” you soothe, turning around and making a silly face to Danny at her dramatics.

—-

Nelson is obviously still angry the next day. His helmet doesn’t cover all of the nasty bruise on his cheek, a sickening purple against his tan skin.

Him and Carrie swap glares across the the throngs of red helmets.

“Okay, Carrie, stop,” you huff. “He might actually kill you. You’re the one who got a punch in- let it go.”

She turns to glare at you, now.

“Tell him to stop staring at me.”

“Well, you can help by looking away first.”

“Fine,” she mumbles, putting her helmet on and tightening her grip on her sword. Chiron made his usual speech around 10 minutes ago, and Clarisse has finally finished updating everyone- more like yelling incoherently at everyone- about their positions.

But you have a similar strategy.

The blue team has the brains of the Athena Cabin, but the red team has all the brute strength.

Clarisse huffs, walking over to you and Carrie.

“Okay, ready?” she asks, reaching over to tighten the straps of your armor- even through they’re perfectly fine- by habit.

Carrie let’s out a deep breath. “Yes. Very ready to fuckin’ pummel those blue shits and pretend they’re Nelson.”

“That’s the spirit!” you smile, slapping her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and steps away from you, smiling slightly.

Danny and Matty walk over, and your little band is complete. You hunt in the woods just south of the flag, deterring a lot of hopefuls. The older campers know to come up with sneakier ways to get by, but Clarisse is otherwise confident in those she placed by the flag to really protect it.

You strike out into an offensive stance, pointing the end of your blade straight at Danny- and he quickly counters with his own impeccable stance.

“Oh, yeah, they don’t stand a chance,” you smile, and he returns it.

—-

You take your normal routes through the woods.

With the added weight of you and Danny, the group is not as stealthy as they could be- but Clarisse is a secret teddy bear who doesn’t like to be away from you for long, and Danny is too young to be set loose, left to watch the big kids work, occasionally jumping in for a few swings.

Leaves crunch under your feet in the otherwise silent forest. You’ve already come across a few stragglers, and before you could even raise your sword the Ares siblings had disarmed them. Your heart squeezed seeing the absolutely heartbroken look on Danny’s face- he was promised that this time he could really fight.

And after you pulled Clarisse off to the side and reminded her of her deal- Danny was leading the group, with you and Clarisse behind him.

He marches tall and proud, sword pointed out, even though Clarisse scolds him and says his arm will get tired- he’s young and doesn’t listen to his half-sibling.

You smile, watching him, admiring how carefree he is. The walk continues mostly in a stealthy silence- Clarisse, Carrie and Matty has mastered the art of walking silently- so your cover is lost by you and Danny.

Of course, whenever you try to convince Clarisse that maybe you should go somewhere else- she looks at you like you’ve suddenly turned into a female Minotaur.

Clarisse, her hand in yours right now, has a hard time understanding the concept that she can’t be with you all the time. That you might get hurt, that she can’t always stop it.

It’s sweet how constantly concerned she is over you, it makes your stomach twist so good.

She squeezes your hand, bringing you out of your reverie. Voices.

“Danny,” you whisper, almost silently, kicking the back of his leg. When he turns around, frown on his face, you point towards the direction of the voices- and now footsteps.

You all stop in your tracks.

Danny practically jumps up in down, you smile wide, and Clarisse signals to Carrie and Matty, urging you and Danny closer to the action.

When they come into the clearing, a few Hermes kids dressed in blue bandanas, swords in their hands. They’re all strong, you’ve seen them around- recognize them vaguely as potentials that lost to Clarisse in ugly sparring matches.

The siblings have disappeared into the trees.

So it’s just you, unsuspecting, and Danny.

You can see the triumphant looks on their faces.

Except for one of them.

Nicky, maybe? You don’t care enough about him to know his name. But there’s something more in his eyes that you notice immediately, something similar to the passion Clarisse gets in her eyes at the mention of this game.

Danny jumps forward, sword swinging just the way his blood knows, the way his siblings have taught him meticulously.

They seem momentarily surprised at the force his small body can produce, quickly countering with their own jabs, swords clashing together. The other focuses on you.

You’re not worried, you know the siblings are just letting the two of you have your moments before they really come in and you can sit back and watch Clarisse fight. Muscles rippling, sick smile on her face, spear glowing with electricity.

He comes at you and your swords clash together, the force of it making your teeth ring- Gods, he’s strong. He pulls back and you do the same thing a few more times, neither of you able to get the upper hand- until he finally seems to realize his height advantage.

He swings his sword down on you, pressing down hard- and with gravity on his side you have to put all of your focus into stopping that downward sword.

You don’t see his foot coming out to kick you back.

You only feel it, boot in your chest, wind knocked out of you, groaning as you slam into the ground.

“Fuck,” you breathe, tasting blood in your mouth.

“Y/N!” Danny shouts, and that’s when you see his sword coming down on you again. He does it on purpose, that much is sword, the strategic placing of his sword slicing through the top of your arm.

He doesn’t mean to kill you. He means to hurt you.

His purpose isn’t winning the game, you realize as the blade tears through skin, his purpose is to hurt you. That’s what you saw in his eyes.

Delight that his prey was right in front of him.

The realization washes over you like a wave- but like the real ocean, another one comes- an overwhelming feeling of pain, blooming outward like a flower.

He bites his lip in concentration, standing over you as his blade sinks into the dirt. He smiles wide, hitting his target.

You scream.

It’s a quick stop. The clearing is filled with the sound of your screams, swords stopping in midair- everyone realizing simultaneously that you’re really hurt. That this boy hurt you on purpose.

Something cuts through the air, wind in your ears, swiftly burying itself through Nicky’s armor and into his side.

You’ve realized in the last day that men are stupid. First, it was Nelson not expecting to get punched, and now it was Nicky not prepared for a retaliation after hurting you.

The thick armor slowed down the spear, so it unfortunately stabs his side and falls right out.

He yells in pain, ripping off his armor, revealing a small cut. Nothing compared to yours, but you can faintly recognize the fire in his eyes before Matty is leaning over you and Carrie is wrapping a bandana above the pain in your arm.

You hear the sounds of something happening, someone fighting, skin on skin.

You hear all of this, you see all of it, but all you can feel is the burning, burning cut in your arm. It feels like he cut it off. Your mind is hazy, you know blood is gushing, you never knew something could hurt this bad.

You faintly realize you bit your tongue when you went down. Blood spurts from your mouth when you cough, when you groan in pain, when you say her name like a prayer over and over again.

“Clarisse,” you moan, legs twisting around, trying to get away from the pain that you can’t escape from. “Clarisse, Clarisse, please, Clar…”

Matty pulls your head into his lap.

You can tell it’s bad, you can see the queasy look on his face. You clench your fist- the one you can feel, at least- to keep from screaming, heels digging into the dirt. You’re still trying to get away. But you can’t. You can’t get away from this all consuming pain.

“It’s okay,” Danny whispers, suddenly appearing next to you. He voice shakes, he doesn’t know, he can’t tell you anything reassuring.

“Can you go find someone, Danny? One of the Apollo kids, anyone?”

He ignores Carrie, starring at you for a second longer.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, his voice quiet, finally able to act like the young boy he is.

“You can go,” you breathe, somehow finding the strength to make him believe you’re okay. “Go help me, okay?”

His little footsteps disappear into the woods faster than you’ve ever heard him run, even when they have his favorite brownies for dessert.

You let out a sob.

“D-did he cut it off?” you moan. “It feels like he cut it off, please tell me he didn’t… he didn’t cut my arm off…”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Carrie breathes, pressing down agains the wound to try and stop the blood from gushing out- but it doesn’t really help. It’s just too much. “I mean, it’s deep and it’s nasty, but you’ve still got an arm, don’t worry.”

She laughs, awkwardly, nervously. You can feel even more of your arm drifting away, blood pouring out onto the ground.

“Hey, hey, no,” Matty mutters, lightly hitting your face.

“Wha-”

“Can’t fall asleep, Y/N,” Carrie says, nervously. “Sit up against Matty, come on, huh?” you lean against Matty, head clearing now that there’s fresh air in your system.

Your eyes focus on Clarisse.

Except she’s not anywhere near you, she’s 10 feet away, punching Nicky so hard you’re surprised he’s still standing.

Carrie cringes. “Okay, maybe don’t look at that.”

But you’re sort of entranced by her. She’s not outwardly angry, her face reveals nothing- just a mask of hard, unrelenting focus. It should scare you, how much concentration she puts into her deadly punches, blood flying with each hit she lands. Her knuckles are red, his face is a mess, but it’s exhilarating to know she would do this for you.

A sickening crack rents the air. “My fucking nose, fuck, fuck, screw you, you fucking bitch! Fuck-”

The smallest smile creeps it way onto her face. She wipes her mouth, leaving blood on her lips- but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“I can keep going!” she shouts back, grabbing his shirt. “You wanna do that shit? I’m only getting started. I’m gonna throw you around, then I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

“Wait! Wait, okay, wait, shit,” he breathes, holding his hands up in surrender. Blood pours from his nose, down to her hand bunched in his shirt. He’s taller than her, yet he’s surrendering.

“You’re pathetic,” she hisses, pushing him back. He hits the ground with a groan, trying to grab for a rock, a sword, anything to defend himself against Clarisse and her fury.

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

One of the reasons why she does is because she gets to let out all her anger. She looks at you, but not in your eyes- she looks at the wound on your arm. You can see the red pouring out of the corner of your eye- but you choose to ignore it, instead focusing on the way the fire inside of her gets relit at the sight of your blood. She has plenty reason to be angry now.

She grabs her spear, sauntering over to him, laughing at the way he can’t even try to get up.

“So fuckin’ stupid,” she smiles, tilting her head. Then the tip of her spear is pointing right at his neck, she’s standing over him the way he did to you. “How’s it feel?” she smiles.

He coughs, hissing in pain.

“I’m scared, Clarisse, okay? You got your fucking revenge, but it wasn’t me.”

She laughs, loud and boisterous. “I just saw you cut her, dumbass. I really should kill you, just as a favor to the world.”

“Paid me,” he coughs. “Drachmas, in exchange for hurting your girlfriend-”

She presses the blade against his throat, he yells out.

“Who?”

He stays silent.

“Who?!” she yells, kicking his stomach.

“Nelson!” he screams. “Nelson! Nelson paid me, please, Clarisse-”

She moves the blade away, and he hisses- she probably just barely drew blood.

“I’m not done yet,” she whispers, deadly promise dripping from her words. She turns around, fades out of focus for a second, and then she’s right next to you.

Her hands are cupping your face, she looks sick, seeing you like this up close- but all she does is kiss your forehead. Like you, she doesn’t want to look at your flesh and blood.

“I’m here, I’m here, oh, fuck. Gods, what the fuck,” she mumbles, looking very pointedly away from the wound, finally seeing how bad it is up close.

“Clarisse.”

“I know,” she whispers, smoothing your hair back. “I know, baby, I know, but it’s gonna be okay.”

Danny runs into the clearing, shouting “just over here” while healers follow him, immediately groaning at the smell of blood, the sight of it.

Clarisse switches places with Matty, holding you against her, kissing your head again and again, muttering about how brave you are.

You almost laugh at the odd looks the Apollo kids give her, unused to seeing the big bad Clarisse so soft. But they just don’t know her like you do. She doesn’t love them like she loves you.

One of them starts to clean the blood, and your eyes drift shut as the other starts to mend your skin back together.

—-

You wake up with familiar curly hair in your face.

You spit it out, groaning, mouth feeling fuzzy, everything feelings fuzzy.

“Clarisse?” you mumble, eyes not even open, but you wake up with that hair in your mouth everyday, and you’ve memorized the weight of her arm around your waist.

She sits up immediately, jumping out of bed, standing up and fixing her messy hair like someone’s gonna be there.

“Um, hello? I was speaking, crazy girl.”

“Oh, thank Gods,” she mumbles, blowing hair out of her face and sitting back down. “Thought we got caught.”

You look at her, then your surroundings-

“Oh, holy shit,” she says, staring at you like a deer in headlights. “Wait, you’re awake. You’re awake!”

She throws her arms around you, burying her face into your neck, reverberating with the sound of your laughter.

“You make it sound like I’ve been in a coma for 10 years.” Your heart drops. “Have I… been asleep for a while?”

“Um,” she says, softly, biting her lip as she extricated herself from your neck. “Capture the flag was yesterday, so… no.”

“So you’re just being dramatic?”

“Possibly,” she smiles. “It’s not my fault you’ve taken over my entire brain.” She shows her bruised knuckles, split open, already starting to scab. “I said not to fix ‘em up. They don’t hurt that bad, and they look fucking cool.”

You grab her hands, relieved it’s only been a day, kissing the rough scabs. She blushes, although she tries her best not to, breathing in deeply.

“How are you feeling, baby?”

You look towards your totally healed arm, finally realizing that you know have full control of your hands, unlike yesterday. It’s wrapped in a bandage for precautions, but it feels totally healed.

“All good,” you smile.

“You gotta take it real easy for the next week or so, yeah?” she fusses, brushing hair behind your ear. “So you call me, or one of my siblings, anyone to help you with anything. No lifting heavy stuff, don’t do anything too fast- you might tear the healing.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll carry me around like a princess?” you giggle, laying back, inviting her into your arms. She gets back under the covers, head against your chest so she can hear your heartbeat.

“That’s not a bad idea, actually. Practical. Very safe.”

You hit her shoulder. “I’m joking.”

“Eh, I’ll change your mind.”

You smile, running your hands through her hair, enjoying the early mornings with her warmth against you, soft sunlight peeking through windows.

She sits up after a moment, laying her head back on the pillow, arm back around your waist. She just sits there for a moment, you can feel her admiring you. Clarisse doesn’t look at you. She traces your face with her eyes, imagining it was her hands, her lips, she admires you like she sees a reverence in your eyes that has nothing to do with your godly parent.

“Can you promise me something?” she asks, whispering softly, even though you’re the only two people around.

“What?” you say, staring at the ceiling, feeling like you might fall back asleep.

“Don’t get hurt. Like, ever again, please.”

You smile. “Okay, baby,” you mumble.

“I’m serious,” she smiles, nudging your cheek with her nose. “I… I was really scared. And I don’t like to feel that way, especially when it comes to you. I was angry, too. I was so fuckin’ angry I’m surprised I didn’t kill him. You can’t get hurt like that, not again, you just gotta let me protect you. Or else I might actually kill someone, Y/N.”

“I know,” you mumble. “I watched you.”

“Did I scare you?” she asks, voice soft. There’s no hint of your loving, smiley Clarisse in this bed right now. She’s worried, as if she could ever scare you.

“No,” you say, honestly. “It’s sweet how far you’re willing to go for me.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “You better like it. Do you know what I got for that? Eight months no dessert. Five months cleaning the fuckin’ stables.”

You barely hide your laugh. “Oh, my Gods, are you serious?”

“Yes,” she grumbles. “But, I’ve decided it’s fine. You’re my loving girlfriend, right? You can sit there all pretty so I have something to look at when I’m cleaning. And you’ll share your dessert with me, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, turning your head. “I will.”

“I really love you. My perfect pretty princess,” she jokes, smiling lopsidedly, and you return it. “You’ll let me protect you, and maybe I can get some decent sleep at night, huh?”

When she presses her hand to your face and her lips to yours, you think nothing could possible ruin this moment. It’s just you and her, and everything that’s beautiful.

“You always protect me, Clar,” you smile.

She smiles, lips grazing yours. This is your Clarisse. The one who smiles just for you, who puts her rough hand softly against your face. This is your Clarisse, the one who would do anything for you, the one who wants to carry you around, the one who wants to protect you and hold you and never let anyone fuck with her baby.

The door slams open, someone is laughing boisterously, another person is groaning in pain, and a familiar voice is shouting your names.

“Clarisse! Y/N! Clarisse, Clarisse! Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Danny shouts, dragging out the last syllable of your name. He jumps onto the bed by your feet, even when Clarisse frowns, looking at you like a puppy dog who’s just brought a dead bird to your doorstep.

And as you look at the scene behind you, Nelson being laid on another bed, Carrie being helped into the corner- laughing hysterically, knuckles split open.

Nelson’s face is practically unrecognizable.

You suppose Danny really did bring something unsavory like a dead bird, dropping it right at your feet.

“So, we all woke up right?”

Your eyes whip to Danny, shocked as he know launches into a story about Carrie waking up to Nelson saying he hadn’t been called to the Big House yet, maybe he would get away from it- but swiftly received punishment in the form of Carrie’s fists. With Clarisse in your bed, no one had the guts to stop them, and they fought for what must have been 10 minutes- Nelson very obviously losing.

“And, now we’re here,” Danny sighs, breathing out after his long and embellished rant. “But you’re awake, Y/N!”

He looks at your skeptically- specifically, at your arm.

“Can I hug you?”

“Oh,” you smile, your heart twisting with such a fondness for this wonderful little kid. “Of course you can, Danny,” you smile, opening your arms wide.

“Yes, just be careful,” Clarisse cautions, her arm around your waist. “Watch the arm, huh?”

“He’s just a baby, Clarisse,” you mumble, breath messing his hair.

“He’s 11.”

“Baby,” you reinforce, squeezing him tighter.

“Y/N… you’re crushing me,” he groans.

“Oops,” you say, letting him go. “You’re just too cute,” you coo.

Clarisse scoffs from next to you. You smile, kissing her cheek. “You’re beautiful. Scary, dangerous. Not cute, though.”

She hums. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Carrie walks over, sporting her split knuckles, also opting to let them heal naturally like Clarisse. She shows them off with a wide smile, even as Nelson screams in the background when they reset his nose.

Matty rubs his temples.

You smile, looking around at your very dysfunctional, very awkward, but loving family-adjacent.

“Hey, did we end up winning the game?” you ask.

Clarisse snorts. “Oh, nah. Without us, they were lost. Who cares, though?”

“Yeah, I liked beating Nelson up much more than I would have liked winning,” Carrie smiles.

“Next time,” Danny starts, “Can I lead again?”

Clarisse squints at him. “…Maybe.”

You wink at him, nodding subtly.

“Okay!” he smiles.

Clarisse kisses your forehead.

“I love you, pretty baby,” she mumbles.

You smile. “I love you too, scary baby.”

—-

clarisse when she sees y/n get hurt: oh so the only natural response to to THROW A FUCKING SPEAR AT SOMEONE

appreciation for the fact she threw it from like really far away and just tore through his armor likkkkeeee

nelson and nicky sitting in the infirmary together hugging each other terrified clarisse and carrie are going to come back for more

nicky does not sleep at night anymore SHE SAID SHE WASNT DONE

—-

shout out to my baby danny he carried this fic fr

shoutout to y/n for getting WRECKED so we could have this beautiful moment w clarisse

shoutout to matty for being his beautiful self

shoutout to carrie for being her violent self

and finally shoutout to clarisse for being overprotective and insane

—-

clarisse after she actually convinced y/n to let her carry her around everywhere: 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

bitch is so happy…

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[onlyswan]

i’m back to give you my iw!couple brain rot 🤲, please handle with care.

but !! imagine jungkook and oc doing that “see how long we can go without kissing” challenge !! how would fold first? they’re both so competitive but smitten it makes me conflicted. 😣😣

knowing them, jungkook would be twitching his eye just from the thought of being deprived kissies so would oc give in first to let him win? or would jungkook just take what’s his?? 🤔

imagine oc being a blushing mess from staring at jungkook’s face for too long 😵‍💫 THEYRE SO CUTE I CANT THINK STRAIGHT😭🫶

summary: in which jungkook is twenty-six years old and yet… you still give him butterflies.

idol!jk x reader, established relationship / word count: 0.7k

content/warnings: sexual tension, making out, it’s honestly just them fighting over who gets to be on top

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe hi anonie… sorry… i kindaaa got carried away… i had to write out the thing or else i would’ve gone insane just talking about it <3 (written with love and care) <3

—

“i don’t understand this challenge.”

“me neither,”

jungkook remains in a hypnotic-like trance, doe eyes trained to your lips stained with a lighter shade of mixed red and brown.

“we’re this close and we can’t kiss…? this is absurd.”

“do they actually do this in bed? with someone on top?” you chuckle as you coyly twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. “i don’t think so?”

“i don’t know. i just wanted you to be comfortable.” he teasingly brushes his nose against yours, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended. “since, you know, we’ll be here a while.”

“oh wow. bringing me to bed, really? you’re that confident?”

he cockily raises an eyebrow. “hm, we both know you won’t be able to resist me here. you’re all over me all the time.”

you try not to roll your eyes in annoyance. and you also both know that you’re just as competitive, if not more.

“oh my god, you,” you mumble. the calm of your voice contrasts the aggressive push of your hand against your boyfriend’s naked chest. “and your stupid arrogance and your stupid need to flaunt your stupid hot body.”

in the blink of an eye, jungkook finds you stradding him, and himself, trapped underneath your body. he blinks in disbelief, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“this is dirty.”

you remove his glasses, moving it aside without care. “that’s just your mind.”

okay, perhaps bringing you to bed was a bad idea.

you lean down, slowly, close and then closer— it’s quite ridiculous that he’s nervous as if he doesn’t know what is bound to happen next: he’s thoroughly convinced that you’re going to kiss him.

once he feels your lips ghost over his, mere millimeters away, his eyelids flutter shut.

terrible idea. terrible.

the kiss, much to his disappointment, never happens.

he opens his eyes and your face is suddenly tucked in the space between his neck and shoulders, giggling and shaking and positively amused.

he turns away and squeezes his eyes shut. a painful admit of defeat against your infinite allure. “ah, i’m fucked.”

“we’ll get there later,” you lift your head, tilting his chin to face you.

you smile and scoot closer. so close that your bottom lips grazes his. he fails to remember the last time the two of you touched as chastely, as softly, but it felt like accidentally touching a live wire. he gets a funny feeling in his stomach. butterflies…? he’s twenty-six years old. he must be losing his mind.

“after you lose.”

“that’s not happening, baby.”

“yes, it will.”

“i won’t give up so easily.”

you give him an innocent look. “but i really think you will.”

you stare at each other for a little while, anticipating the other’s next move.

“fuck- yeah, okay-” he grits his teeth, taking advantage of his strength to finally flip back your positions. you’ve had your fun. “you’re right.”

“babe! ru-”

your surprised gasp is cut off by jungkook’s lips crashing on yours— curved into a smirk, you can feel it. your whines are muffled and swallowed by him, wrists caught in his hands and over your head because you were hitting his shoulder and he just wanted to kiss his baby properly.

“you lost,” you remark quietly when he draws back, only inches away, to scatter kisses along your face and down to your neck.

it tickles, you squirm in pleasure when he reaches near your collarbone, but your hands are still tied.

you were supposed to have him underneath you as a hot and flustered mess, not the other way around. damn it.

“really?” he feigns interest, lips finding their way back to yours. “doesn’t feel like it.”

[0cta9on]

And We Danced

Length: 1.1k words

Genre: Angst

Nmixx Lily x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Wrote this for a prompt thingy hosted by @mintwithchoco! Inspired by this really pretty song, do give it a listen if you have the chance :])

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

“...and then he just brushes past me and immediately gets on his game!” Lily huffs, pacing around your room. “Like, I get that he’s tired and all that, but at least a ‘Hi’ would be nice!”

A song you don’t recognize blasts from your speaker, fiery and tumultuous to mimic the current emotions of your friend. With how often she comes over to your place to rant about her boyfriend, it’s a wonder how she doesn’t have a consistent playlist.

“What do you think? Am I just overreacting?” she asks, slumping onto your mattress.

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

“Really? Because if I’m being crazy, I need you to tell me.”

“I know when you’re being crazy, but this isn’t one of those times.”

Lily chuckles before scooting next to you and resting her head on your shoulder. You swallow down the thoughts and words that threaten to burst from your chest, potentially ruining this good thing that you have. Things are fine. Calm down.

“What should I do now?” she asks, her words floating through the open air between the transition of songs. The next song brings in slow, melancholic piano chords paired with a heartbreaking story of unrequited love. Lily’s head sinks deeper into your shoulder like the weight of the lyrics is pulling her down and you’re her only means of support.

You should break up with him.

“You should talk to him,” you say, breathing steadily. “You said that this started happening recently, right? Maybe something happened to him and he just hasn’t told you yet. Most guys are stupid and don’t like talking about their feelings and all that mushy stuff.”

“Talk to him. Right,” she sighs. “You make it sound so simple.”

You shrug. “Things are always more difficult than they seem. It really depends on him for this to work out. You’re doing the best you can, and if he can’t see that then… maybe you should—”

Lily’s phone buzzes from across the room, prompting her to jump towards it with the desperation of a lost puppy finding its owner. Her warmth is stripped away from you in an instant, and the impending cold becomes a grim reminder that it was never yours in the first place. 

Her expression immediately sours as she checks the notification.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, worried.

“No.” Lily’s shoulders slump as she tosses her phone back on your desk with a resounding thud. “Bae just wants me to get her some ice cream on the way home.”

You fail to stifle a chuckle, earning an icy glare from those perfectly round eyes.

“I feel like I’m going insane.” She throws up her hands in exasperation. “What if I just end it all and jump off a cliff?”

“You definitely shouldn’t do that. How else will Bae get her ice cream?” you quip.

“Ha ha, very funny.”

The last bit of sunlight fades past the edge of your window just as the music dies down to give way to the next song. From the first note, you’re left reeling as memories of thumping heartbeats and unattainable closeness flood your mind like a tsunami. Flashing lights, the linoleum scent of the gym floors, your dad’s tie that your mom made you wear, every single excruciating detail of that night comes crashing down in an instant.

The night you cherish deeply, yet regret the most.

“Oh. My. God!” Lily yanks your arm, nearly pulling it out of its socket from sheer excitement. “Get up!”

“W-what?”

“Do you not remember this song!?”

“I-I, uh…” Of course you remember it. There hasn’t been a day that’s passed where you don’t think of what that damned song entails.

“Sophomore year homecoming! We slow danced to this song together! How could you forget that!?” She pouts at you, and it takes every facial muscle you have not to immediately burst out into the dumbest smile.

Without hesitation, Lily pulls your arms around her waist and intertwines her fingers behind your neck, and suddenly, you forget how to breathe, how to think, how to function like a regular human being. 

“I-I think I remember this song,” you stutter, not quite meeting her eyes.

You find yourself being transported back to that sophomore dance as the two of you sway to the beats of the music. Lily rests her head on your chest just as she did back then, and you wonder if she can hear your heartbeat as it races from the proximity. You wonder if she can hear your thoughts, what she would think about how every corner of your mind is occupied by her. You wonder what would’ve happened if you had done something, anything differently that night, if a couple words were the difference between dancing here as lovers or as reminiscing friends.

Say something. This is your only chance. After this, she’ll be gone forever.

Yet, just like that night so many years ago, you stand quietly like a fool, damning yourself to an eternity of forever staying out of her reach.

“That was fun,” Lily giggles as she steps away from you, her fingers lingering in between yours. “I should probably head back though, it’s getting kinda late.”

“Um, yeah, sure.” Regretfully, you let go of her hands and walk her to the front door, trying to not let your mess of emotions reveal itself in your expression.

“Maybe we can hang out again tomorrow! If you’re not busy of course.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule, but yeah, I would like that.” Of course you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow. Even if you did, you’d move Heaven and Earth just to spend another moment with her.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow!” Lily pulls you into a hug like she always does and you fight off every urge screaming at you to keep her close.

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Long after the door shuts behind her, all you can do is stand there, motionless, like life suddenly stops mattering when she’s not around. This is all your fault, really. It shouldn’t be a surprise that guys would line up for an inkling of a chance with her; in fact, you could fill up entire libraries with books describing how perfect Lily is in every single way, forever pondering how a single glance can fill you up with so much joy and sorrow that it threatens to drown you. You had more than a decade head start, you should’ve been the first one in line.

And yet, your own cowardice got in the way.

Again. And again. And again.

That song plays in your head once more, its melody haunting yet comforting. In a perfect world, the two of you would be able to dance all night to a song that never stops.

[aajjks]

Toxic. (m)

synopsis. You can do whatever but you just can’t leave him.

warnings. yändêrê bëhävïöür, tôxïc rêlätïönshïp, ünst*ble bëhävïöür, ünhëälthy rêlätïönshïp, pösessïvēnēss.

Viewer discretion is advised.

He knows that he’s too possessive.

His way of loving you isn’t healthy at all.

But it’s just how he is. You’ve made him like this. It’s all because of you, you’ve put him in a trance. You have him so obsessed.

And he knows that he’s too toxic, jealous and suffocating.

But you can’t leave him.

“Yn.. how long is this going to go on? You know you can’t leave me.” He sighs, you have your back turned on him. He sighs, he doesn’t know how to deal with you.

He has tried everything.

Even blackmailing you, it doesn’t work anymore.

“What is wrong with you?” Jungkook clicks his tongue. You have been like this for the past week hours since he and you had a pretty big fight, all because he didn’t want you to go out with your friends.

He wasn’t wrong about that. Clubbing with your friends at night that’s just an invitation for trouble. He knows how men think. He wants to protect you. That’s not a bad thing, right?

Even if he has some fucked up ways to protect you.

“Yn come on please. Stop it.” He whispers, sitting right beside you on the bed. You don’t even budge. It’s like his words are falling on deaf ears.

Jungkook scoots closer to you. He has to get you to start talking to him because he’s going insane. “listen you just need to understand that I want what’s best for you. And those friends of yours oh my God they are whores.”

He rolled his eyes. “and they want you to become one too.” He tells you, “because why else would keep on telling you to break up with me?”

when you don’t reply , he gently slaps you on the shoulder. “ I deserve better than this treatment.” oh, he is so frustrated. “look at me.” He tries to get you to look at him by trying to make your body shift in his direction

“DON’T TOUCH ME.” he almost flinches at your loud tone, you finally turn.

“honestly, I am so tired of you.” You spit at him. Your eyes glaring holes into his soul. But he doesn’t mind at all. If anything, he resists to smirk.

“ at least you’re looking at me now and even talking to me so I succeeded.” he shrugs, and takes his hands off of you.

“ listen to me OK I’m willing to apologize for my behavior, but you have to understand that you shouldn’t go out to clubs or places like that especially with your friends.” he Gives you his best puppy eyes.

But they don’t work on you, his old tricks don’t work on you.

“Please spare me this bullshit.” You roll your eyes at your toxic boyfriend. Jungkook look at you with wide eyes. “ OK stop cursing at me” he groans, he feels so offended right now.

“it’s because of your fucking friends that you’re doing this to me.” he’s starting to talk in pout. You look at him like he’s grown two heads

You look disgusted .

“it’s not because of my friends Jungkook! Oh my God it’s because of you you are overbearing and fucking possessive!” You raise your voice once again, your eyes are filled with anger.

“I am tired of this. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TOO INSECURE BECAUSE YOU DON’T TRUST ME.”

You are so angry at him, that you’ve started to use your hands to elaborate . “ how can I be with a man that doesn’t even trust me, and sabotages my social life, talks shit about my friends and locks me up in the fucking house?” You furrow your eyebrows together.

He just sits there and listens to you . He’s missed your voice so much it doesn’t even matter about what you’re saying he’s not even paying attention to whatever you’re talking about.

He’s just focused on the way your mouth moves and you make these stupid expressions. He’s missed you too much.

“scream at me all you want.” He smiles.

You immediately stop screaming at him. “Wow, you are unbelievable.” you’re shocked honestly.

How unstable can he be?

How can he not take this seriously? You two are on the words of breaking up. This is what he’s doing.

“you can’t leave me.” he has stopped smiling. his eyes have stopped sparkling.

Silence falls over you.

It’s like he’s read your mind.

“you know I won’t let you, so why would I mind you screaming at me that’s the least you can really do, I’m willing to tolerate this. But as long as you don’t leave me, even if you want to you know you can’t.”

“please continue your lecture.”

[starnana7]

every time I remember that the hit show supernatural made God, the literal God from the Bible, canonically bisexual but couldn’t do the same with a random guy who hunts monsters it actually makes me feel physically ill.. like blasphemy is okay but we draw the line at making the main character a little bit queer because it would “upset the heterosexuals men”? okay ig… and it’s so funny to me that they tried SO bad to make dean like really really straight and macho and a manly womanizer (I mean dude has literal porn brain and is obsessed with cars and is a film nerd) And still is the number 1 bissexual boy.. I mean no one that into cowboys is 100% straight 🙄 and if they actually wanted him to be that much of a cishet guy WHY would they make him have a codependent homosexual friendship with his best friend for more than a decade ?? and we have so much subtext to corroborates it that it’s actually insane.

and it’s also rlly funny to me that sam would be the most obvious choice for a queer storyline. like i’m not sure this is true but i heard somewhere that he actually was supposed to like be lgbt and that it’s implied in the show he’s pan bc he basically have sex w/ everyone and doesn’t care (like monsters and stuff). i wholeheartedly disagree bc sure he hited a demon and a werewolf and a kitsune and God knows what more But it still were just women and for me he’s still just straight 💀 we do have gabriel however and i would say that’s a valid argument but i don’t actually like them together because of the whole torturing-sam-every-tuesday-over-and-over-again but it’s still a good take ig. again this is just my opinion But anyways doesn’t matter my point Is that sam always felt like a freak and wanted to be normal and like was more open minded and “less-macho-toxic-behavior” than dean. he was a theater kid and talked about his feelings and all. STILL THO dean went and become The bissexual icon (Not Sam, Dean!!). and the fact that he was more manly actually only emphasized to his sexuality (and him being closeted) and sam being the straight one, and bare with me here. as sam winchester once wisely said “well you are kind of butch they probably think you're compinsating.” (to dean asking why people always assumed they were gay) and like this is so true, sam always felt comfortable in himself and like his nerdier and less cool strong man personality. But dean, oh, dean, no, no, no. and it could all be linked to john. we know how much dean wanted to gain his father approval and respect, all he ever wanted was for john to be proud of him. so he’d listen to the same music as john, same clothes… and so on. but when we really see a glance of him, we realize he’s actually much more “““girly””” (sorry for the term i lacked a better one) than he shows, Especially when compared to sam—who’s supposed to be the more girly one (again sorry for the term lol) or whatever. dean canonically likes taylor swift, chick flick films, actually liked when a woman made him wear underwear, the bailarinas shoe were “speaking to him” in that one ep of cursed objects, and so on. and every time he makes fun of sam for doing something not-manly-enough (like drinking lemon water or drinking from tiny coups) he eventually goes and do the same thing 😭 and i’m 100% sure that the writers just thought “haha funny scene this really straight deadly man does something not so convencional/more feminine(?) haha comedy relief time!!” but it actually just made him have a whole perfect queer background developed in the series. specially with the fact that He Does Overcompensate. why is he always flirting with women, why is he so butch and scary, always talking about straight sex and so on? because he’s really just deep in the closet. and it makes so much sense with john being his father, with him having to hunt two lesbians nuns in his 17 bday, always having to be strong and macho and cool and perfect—and therefore straight. even without cas, dean really does immaculate the bissexual experience and i’m so sorry but this is just true.

and now pointing to the subtext that i mentioned in the first paragraph (lol i can’t believe i’m making a whole rant as to why dean winchester is a confirmed bisexual), that whole confession to that priest where he says he wants experience new feelings, new people, FOR THE FIRST TIME. that always that the show mentioned a gay couple it ALWAYS focused on dean—not sam, DEAN. the gay hunters, the gay couple on the bar that the cupid “made”, the two cosplayers partners… the fact that every time that dean liked something it was borderline fangirl (gay) obsessive (the dr. sexy episode, that wrestler fighter). he Had a gay thing—and was all flustered about it. he flirted with a guy throughout charlie. THE MALE SIREN. the male siren like after that ep i was 100% convinced that man was not straight. he had a hot demon sumer with crowley?!!! and it’s so funny to me that not one of these things involves castiel, so if they really wanted to make dean be that straight why would they do that?? and only to dean, not even once to sam. Like. and not to mention all the homoeretic tension with benny??? sam never had a male best friend like that.. all of that and i didn’t even entered on destiel. Because this then really just confirms that he is Not straight. even if he wasn’t In Love with cas, they had something going on and the fact that if cas was a girl it would 100% be canon and filmed and Everyone would ship—and I really mean everyone—it just makes me go fucking insane. they could’ve had it all. the fanfic episodes, the parallels between dean and cas and “real couples”, ruby and cas duality and the fact that sam indeed had a relationship w/ her. Anyway i’m a # bi dean truth believer and i know this bc same boy # happy pride month to my fav bissexual boy in the whole world

also to anyone that says that “destiel” was unrequited love yes it kinda of was but only bc dean was so deep in the closet, he did love cas. he was indeed a bissexual man. i’ll die on that hill.

[obsessivelyloved]

This was requested on one of my nsfw blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc the rest of it/the ending is nsfw. I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing a sfw ending for this blog until after i get more sleep.

Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE

___________________________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.” 

[risuola]

DO YOU WANT MY FINGERS? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU, who cannot stop twirling the god damn pen

You really needed to rest. You just wanted to sleep the day off, forget about the series of misfortunes and turn off your mind, but Satoru, your classmate just had to practise his pen spinning abilities.

cw: smut, Satoru and reader are students, fingering, Gojo is a menace, as usual, teasing, fingering, reader discretion is advised — 1,9k words

Can he stop?, you wondered, your mind racing like a sports car with the accelerator pushed to the floor, successfully rendering all of your efforts to relax fruitless. So many little things went wrong that day, so many failures that in themselves weren’t even that significant, but once accumulated, they created a tension in your body that you wished you could just sleep off. You hoped for the night to wipe away the concoction of not one, but two missed busses and a long run in the heat of the summer, the curse that was meant to be at most second grade but turned out to be first and exploding in purple goo, the fact that the room that ideally would have two beds, has just one and your infuriating colleague, now bedmate.

Gojo Satoru.

You had no idea what was his point in twirling that goddamn pen in between his fingers. Maybe he wanted to change his career path into becoming a circus artist or maybe he just wanted to annoy you to death – in both he had high chances to succeed. He clearly wanted to make you explode. That for sure was it, because the pen time after time fell from his hands, hitting the wooden floor. You lost count after the twenty sixth failed attempt of whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish, other than driving you completely insane.

Driven by the desire to break his neck, you flipped in the bed and took a quick glance of his form, fully ready and prepared to scold him, but then, your eyes landed on his hand and the voice got caught up inside your throat. Satoru has pretty hands, you always knew that, but somehow never paid them enough attention to notice how incredibly long his fingers are. You found yourself hypnotized by the way his lengthy digits worked all over the pen, twirling and twisting it between them. Skillfully bending and sliding against one another, using all of their slender length to make the movements effective.

Suddenly, you found yourself curious; your mind drifting into forbidden territories of rated thoughts, that you couldn’t, or maybe didn’t want to, push away. As you watched, hypnotized, how Satoru’s fingers were working their way around the pen, you wished to know if he’d be just as skilled using them in other ways? Would he be able to softly pour his magic onto your body, working them through your skin instead of the plastic? And how would they feel inside of you? For sure he’d reach into places you couldn’t yourself, for sure he’d-

“Y/n, my eyes are up here,” his voice snapped you out of your trance. “God, what got you so invested?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, exhaling deeply to ground yourself. “You’re annoying me with this pen, can you stop?”

“I’m trying to destress myself. I have to have my hands occupied- wait, were you looking at my hands?”

“No, Gojo.”

“Are you attracted to my hands?”

“How did you get annoyed and attracted mixed up, huh?”

“Don’t be shy now,” his face brightened with mischief as he grinned, wiggling his digits in the air. “Do you want my fingers?”

“God forbid you lay those on me,” you scoffed, trying to brush him off as you made an attempt to turn away from him, but he quickly rendered it fruitless by grabbing you by the wrist and pinning you down.

“Woops, I guess I just did,” he chuckled; one of his legs between your thighs as his body hovered above yours, making you wonder what the hell was happening. “Might as well go a little further.”

“I will knee you in the nuts if you don’t back off,” you threatened, but once again his chest, and whole body, shook with laughter.

“You can’t do that. Infinity, baby.”

Gojo and his goddamn infinity. A short tsk escaped your mouth, before he placed two of his fingers over them, brushing them ever-so-lightly along your upper lip, then lower and down the chin, painting a little s pattern with his, surprisingly soft, fingertips. His own lips never faltered from the menacing smirk, as his eyes focused on where he was outlining your features.

“So, tell me, where do you want them?” His voice now an octave lower went straight between your legs, you could feel yourself throbbing at the very thought of what he could do to you just by touching. “Here?” He peeled down your bottom lip just slightly, creating an opening for him to slip a fingertip into your mouth. “Nuh-ugh, don’t be mean,” he purred when you made an attempt to bite his digits off – the last signs of your dignity talking, before your body surrendered. “I assume it’s not here. So maybe… here?” With his finger now brushing just slightly over the swell of your breast, teasing the embarrassingly hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your sleeping shirt.

“Gojo-“ you tried to put some warning into your words, but he cut you off quickly.

“I’m not holding you, sweet thing. You have more than enough strength to push me away, we both know this.” He was right, and you hated it. Yes, he was above you, his thigh resting between yours, but other than that, he wasn’t exactly keeping you captive in his grip, because there was no grip whatsoever. Sending mental profanities at your own direction, you failed to notice his hand shifting downwards and you only realized it when your body jolted at the sudden pressure applied over your clothed clit. “Oh, it’s here where you want them, huh?”

To admit was way above your current state of self-respect, so you said nothing, trying to join your legs back together, to hide the wet patch that soaked through the soft, light-blue cotton, but to no avail. The more he stroked his fingers along the outlines of your folds, pressing little circles of tease into the swollen bud, the less control and clarity of mind you had.

“Use your words, will you?”

“G-gojo, please-“, you nearly whined.

“Yeah? Tell me, is that where you want my fingers?”

“Y-yes,” that was the most humiliating thing you’ve ever said, and you were certain that the consequences of it will haunt you for as long as you live, because Satoru was surely never gonna let you live that down, but at this particular moment, you couldn’t care less. You’ll be embarrassed later, now you needed to feel those sinful digits inside.

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your jaw. Satoru was full of content, watching you lose your composure piece by piece right before his eyes, and he tried to take mental picture of every stage you went through since he began his teasing torture. From the soft frown that made your brows crease in the middle and your pretty eyes narrowed, sending death stares; through denial – the looks pointed away from him, the delicate tension of every muscle and clenched teeth and the current one – the most adorable flush that spilled over your cheeks and nose, the slightly nervous chew on your lower lip and those same eyes now lost, confused and yet, full of want. What he’s used to see in you was your every day calm, perfect composure and lighthearted approach to life and now, as all of those began to break, taking down the façade of carelessness, Gojo felt the swell of his confidence and ego. And the twitch in his pants.

“There you go,” he nearly whispered, slipping effortlessly into your underwear and the sudden contact of his skin against your aching, throbbing clit made your entire body shiver with anticipation. Satoru shifted his body to your side, placing his own down to be more comfortable, now sure that you won’t push him away. “You’re so wet. So wet and it’s only because of my fingers?”

“S-satoru…”

The grasp you took around his forearm could probably break a bone, but Gojo felt nothing, too consumed by the sweet whimpers that were escaping your lips as he was stroking the letters of his name right into your clit, time after time making your thighs tremble with pleasure. You were so incredibly wet, so worked up that it surprised even you how easily he made you unfold.

You could feel his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck, where he was nipping at slowly, murmuring soft praises interlaced with the filthiest of things that could sound so sexy only slipping over Satoru Gojo’s tongue. His skillful fingertips brushed a little lower, gathering your slick and teasing your entrance painfully. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, needy for what his hands have to offer and he was quick to provide. One of his long fingers slipped into you with ease, entering your warm walls and pushing a breathy whimper from your throat. Satoru reached so far, way further than you could ever even try to reach. And then the subtle burn from the stretch came, when the second finger followed; the heel of his palm pressed tightly to your clit. With the way he moved in and out, pushing and pulling at your nerves, curling his digits inside of you and pressing every oversensitive button along his way – all of it was driving you insane.

The stars were overflowing your vision, the glittering particles of pleasure dancing right in front of your eyes and you couldn’t even care about keeping yourself from breathing out his name. The heat searing at your core spread throughout your entire body, setting it alight with its sparks. You felt like a volcano was erupting inside of you, the hot lava now flowing through your veins instead of blood, pumped sharply with the deft movements of Satoru’s fingers.

A surge of pleasure electrocuted your system, seething tendrils of blissful lust followed every push and pull of his digits. Your thighs began to tremble, your walls were contracting rapidly, clenching around him. Your breath got caught inside your lungs and those stars before your eyes began dancing around, blinding you with white.

“Think you can take the third one?”, Gojo asked, his mouth right next to your ear before he bit onto the petal of it. He challenged you with the question but wasn’t expecting the answer for it. Something incoherent slipped through your lips, following with a moan when he added another dose of stretch to your throbbing pussy, filling you to the impossible levels with the third fingers that still, slipped in with ease. He was almost too much, it sent you overboard with the excitement that got you spiraling into the bliss, head first, full speed. Your entire body tensed, your hand clenched around his forearm, but he didn’t falter from the torturous pace he’s set. Orgasm began overtaking your body in waves of ecstasy that was rushing through you every time he moved.

Your entire form shook underneath his touch, your mind was a blurred out, hazy mess and you were getting lost, drowning in the waves of climax and as he curled his fingers once more, pressing the most sensitive spot inside your velvety walls with all of his might, the knot in your stomach snapped. His name began escaping your mouth unknowingly, breathlessly repeated like a prayer, feeding into his ego as you came all over his hand. The orgasm came with the intensity that shot you straight onto the cloud nine, overwhelming you completely. Your eyes closed shut, your breath was racing just as the heart in your chest.

Gojo slowed down, leading you through the high and eventually, he pulled his hand out.

“Ah, what a mess you made,” he teased, smearing the milky white residues between his soaked fingers. You could barely hear him, but you didn’t need to, to know that he’s gonna tease you for that forever.

[smfolklore]

Anticipation

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Author's Note : Hi! This is my first piece that I'll be uploading. I would love your thoughts on this if you'd be so kind. I hope you all enjoy it and I'm so excited to write more Tobias content. 2.3K Word's 😈

Synopsis : Y/N reluctantly ask's the Dauntless instructor she was assigned, and that she (unfortunately) finds attractive to help her train. There's tension. Please let me know what else you'd like to see.

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She can’t help how her thoughts drift toward the moment his fingers brushed her abdomen. How goosebumps exploded across her skin, and how they easily engulfed her entire midsection.

His voice was low, and deep, right against her ear as he positioned her in a way that would allow her to actually hurt her opponents.

That was yesterday and she can't stop the incessant place that her mind runs to as soon as it's given a moment to think. The attraction she felt for him was so insanely inappropriate. And yet.. the possibility of him reciprocating lulled her into a false sense of security.

That it’s okay.

It won’t end as awfully as she’s imagined.

Y/N’s attention is redirected when she sees the initiates begin to disperse, and her instructor walk toward the knives that they had launched only minutes before she began to fantasize about a 2 minute interaction she had with a boy. 

He must’ve dismissed the session.

Christina and Will turn to look at Y/N in anticipation of what they’ll be doing with the allotted time that they were given.

She half listens as Will discusses going to the parlor to get his first tattoo, but eventually says with a small smile, “Actually, I-uh I’m going to talk to Four. You two can go and I’ll catch up?”.

Christina tilts her head, slightly suspicious, but Y/N gives away absolutely nothing, that perfected smile of innocence she learned in Abnegation carefully placed on her face.

Four’s back is facing her, and once Will and Christina have left, Y/N reluctantly travels from her spot in the training center toward the steel table that holds an abnormally large amount of knives in any other situation. But this is Dauntless, and weapons are normal.

Her heart is pounding and before she can utter a single word he’s anticipated her arrival and muttered, “What is it?”. It isn’t particularly unkind, or malicious in any way. It’s him, and the way that he addresses all of his initiates.

But it has her pausing. Was she insane? Should she just leave?

In spite of the fact that she’s attracted to him, she really could learn from him. And god knows she needs all of the practice that she can get. 

Her arms rest by her side, but the fingers of her right hand are fidgeting as she nervously says, “I don’t know if this is against the rules, but I was wondering if you would help me improve my fighting”.

He still isn’t facing her. He’s diligently organizing the weapons by type. Y/N’s hoping to God he doesn’t refuse her. The mortification would be enough to simply volunteer to become factionless. 

She fills the silence, “If you can’t, that’s okay too! I understand you're busy–and you know what? Just–it’s okay! Forget about it..” She begins to scramble for an appropriate exit, when his voice suddenly rings out.

“I’ll see you here tomorrow at 5. We’ll practice in the morning before your normal sessions and then a second time when dinner is no longer being served”.

Y/N can’t help the smile that fills her face but she almost instinctively kills it. She’s giddy on the inside though. He’s really going to help her. She might actually be able to stay in this faction. 

And spending time with her instructor isn’t exactly a hardship.

She gives a “Thank you” in response and begins to leave the training center, her footsteps light and the only trace of her exit being the sound of the entrance clicking shut.

–––

I stifle the groan I want to let out as my alarm blares beneath my pillow. I shoved it underneath the two pillows that I’d managed to acquire throughout my initiation to try and muffle the noise. Thankfully it worked and the only noise, or rather the only feeling that is escaping is a relentless buzz.

I use two fingers to press against the mirroring sides of the machine simultaneously in order to turn it off. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d awoken the entire dormitory.

I drag myself out of my mattress and begin to clothe myself, my matching black fitted long-sleeve sweater and black workout pants being an absolute pain to put on. I internally curse myself as I have to haul this on. Who told me it was going to be practical to buy this?

Once I’ve deemed myself presentable and not like I’ve just awoken from the pits of hell, I begin my trek to the training center, the clock on the wall reading 4:52 in the morning. As I enter I’m startled when my eyes land on Four. 

But then I’m not. Of course he’s already here. I almost want to roll my eyes.

It’s ridiculous that everything about him is so.. neat. He’s poised, well-balanced, and punctual. He’s never lost his temper. I’ve never once seen this man so much as stumble. And, annoyingly, has never run late for a session. 

Regardless I approach him with a small, “Hi” as I step onto the platform carefully, now standing in front of him.

His intense eyes reach mine and despite what I expected, which was a change of subject, he says in response, “Hi. You’re a bit early”.

I’m a little bit confused given that it’s now 4:56, which means I’m only about 4 minutes ‘early’. But I laugh and quickly take the opportunity to further our conversation. “I didn’t want to be late. You’re doing me a huge favor”.

“Did you think I was going to leave if you weren’t here on time?” His voice is.. amused. His tone is full of dry sarcasm and it has my eyebrow’s shoot up in surprise. He’s actually engaging in genuine conversation; albeit I haven’t managed to pull a smile out of him. Still, it’s far more progress than I thought I was going to get.

I grin, my eyes bright at the possibility that we might become familiar, “Well, I don’t know if I’d exactly put it past you”.

I wonder if I’m hallucinating when I see a flicker of excitement roll through his eyes. But I quickly deny it to myself. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I can’t ruin this opportunity; I need to pass this stage.

There’s a smile on his lips, but it's tilted down, almost as if to prove my accusation. But I get the sense that he’s lying; he wouldn’t have left me here alone if I was late. He’s amused, possibly impressed.

But the smile is quickly wiped off my face when his smile slips off his expression and he becomes Four again. I don’t know who I was talking to just seconds before.. but I like that version of him. Easy going. 

As he talks, he positions me.

He begins a slow drawl of words, “I’ve noticed for you in particular, because of your height and weight, you’d do well in offense. You’re light, and can escape the grip of your opponent rather easily if you learn how”.

I straighten my posture and shiver when he reaches for my two wrists, the words still slipping past his lips, “You need to practice maintaining your space. Don’t let your limbs flail. It’ll stop an opponent from being able to keep a grip on you, understand?”

It’s hard to focus with the way his body is so close to mine. He’s at a respectable distance, but still closer than we’ve encountered before. My eyes flit between his as we make eye contact. I nod slowly to demonstrate my understanding. When his grip loosens he remarks, “Okay. I’m going to charge at you. I’m not going to hit you, but I want you to try and maneuver yourself in a way that will allow you to hit me, and not kill yourself in the process”.

I almost want to laugh at the way he’s phrased that, but I bite my tongue and instead focus on mentally preparing for this. How is that even a possibility? Is there a way for me to hit him while still being out of his reach?

We stand in position, my back straight and my limbs as close to me as possible. My arms are at my side and I’m not in a wide stance in order to evade being slammed onto the platform if he manages to catch a foot.

His stance is much more intimidating. It’s perfected. He could kill me if he wanted too.

I wait for him to approach me, and it’s difficult to resist the temptation to simply bolt out of the way. But I think I’ve come up with a solid plan. I can move at the last second, which will allow me to strike him because his momentum from charging at me will be far too high. 

In this case, his weight is a disadvantage. And for once, mine is at an advantage. Or maybe it’s always at an advantage. I just needed his perspective.

It’s when I’m slightly distracted that he charges at me. I never pegged him for a cheater.

Regardless of my thoughtlessness, I manage to step to the side, only I’m a split second too late. He grips my wrist, which I failed to maintain close to myself in my haste to step away from him. 

He uses his hold on my wrist to pull me close to him, and given how quickly the entire situation is happening, I collide with him, my chest pressed to his. And my palm instinctively presses to his chest in order to maintain a distance, but it only inadvertently has me closer to him. I’m panting a bit as I try to process everything that just happened.

He caught me off guard!

I lift my eyes to his and he’s speaking before I can slip a word in, “You need to focus. Remember to have your limbs as close to you as possible” I nod in agreement and he adds, “That was a very clever strategy. Quick thinking”.

I’m still breathing a bit heavily, as is he, though I don’t know if it’s from the exertion of charging at me.. or because of how closely intertwined we are.

“Thank you”, I mutter with a small smile as I slowly pull my hand away from his chest and he releases my wrist.

He doesn’t reveal a single thought about what just occurred. His breathing is the only possible indication of how he might feel. But as he motions for me to get into my original position again he follows with, “When you’re within an appropriately close distance to your opponent, remember that you have small limbs. Shorter arms, shorter legs. You can use this to help you”.

I don’t quite understand his logic. He recognizes this and begins in my direction. When he starts to get as close as we just were, my eyes widen in surprise but he only says, “Try to knee me”.

I hesitate but I instantly lift my knee to do as he says, I don’t do it hard, only to simulate the motion he’s trying to show me and grin in excitement when I understand what he’s insinuating. At this distance, I can hit him, and it will hurt. But if he attempts to do as I did, it wouldn’t work. His limbs are far too long, and with the small distance between him and I, he can’t even lift his knee.

When I lift my head to meet his eyes, my breath hitches as I realize his head is tilted down to look at me. Which means.. We’re at an incredibly inappropriate distance. I could kiss him if I lifted myself up onto my toes. 

My eyes find his lips briefly, before I snap them back toward his eyes, trying to not trace every detail I can in order to not give myself away. But I’m not the only one who’s feeling affected by this. The words he was about to utter don’t come as they get lodged in his throat.

He’s so close to me, and we’re simply staring at one another as the tension rolls through us.. through the entire training center. Waiting to see who will break it first. I desperately want to stay in this moment, despite how horrible it is to feel attraction for him. He’s my instructor.. there’s no universe where he reciprocates. 

But the way his breathing has increased and his eyes are flitting to my lips says otherwise.

Did I imagine that?

He clears his throat and breaks our eye contact. Turning his attention to my legs, and saying, “Do you understand what I was trying to say?”

I hesitate, still briefly stunned by the moment just there, but I hoarsely respond, “Yes, thank you”.

He goes to his original mark, in position again. I regain control of myself and heavily exhale as I concentrate.

This time, when he charges at me I move in the exact direction I did the first time, knowing that he will have expected me to go the opposite way. 

Reverse psychology. If he can cheat, so can I.

I grin when I see the delayed movement of him coming to the realization that I actually did as he said and managed to evade his grip. And I take this opportunity to strike him, swiping his feet out so that his back slams against the platform.

I almost feel pitiful, but when I see the grin on his face, my pity evaporates. He’s proud of me. He quickly resumes his position and says, “Great. Now try and do it again”.

Though this time his eyes are narrowed, and I frown nervously, contrary to the bubbling pit of excitement running through me as well, when I realize he was being kind. And now he’s going to actually train me.

–––

That's it! I love this so please let me know if you liked it and if you'd like to see more! And to @remussbitch who asked to be tagged, here it is. I hope you enjoy.

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[diorsluv]

feather , part 13

“ i finally cut you off ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, edwards.73, jackhughes, and 96,892 others

yourusername rowdy and huggy bear were surprisingly comfortable but they kept interrupting my criminal minds marathon 😔

tagged: mackie.samo, dylanduke25, jackhughes, _quinnhughes, lhughes_06, edwards.73, markestapa

view all comments

username81 i can’t believe mackie let her give him a makeover

→ yourusername i can’t believe it either

jackhughes i don’t see what you see in spencer reid but ok

→ yourusername you’re clinically insane. go get some help.

→ _quinnhughes i don’t see it either

→ lhughes_06 me neither

→ yourusername i’m calling your mom and telling her that you’ve all gone crazy.

markestapa that snow was FREEZING but attacking you with that pillow really made it all worth it

→ yourusername this is harassment and i feel targeted ☹️☹️

→ markestapa really? good 😊

username53 THE SHOPPING CARTS IN A PARKING GARAGE?? the math ain’t mathing

mackie.samo honestly that makeover felt kinda replenishing

→ yourusername funny that ur using that word when u threw my REPLENISHING face mask in the trash after 5 minutes

jamie.drysdale how did she manage to convince you all to make those mini heart shaped pizzas

→ lhughes_06 uhh see the thing is..

→ edwards.73 about that 😥

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→ _quinnhughes they’re idiots

→ jackhughes yeah um that’s the thing!

→ mackie.samo so…………

→ dylanduke25 she uh… she didn’t

→ rutgermcgroarty oh my god you all turned soft for her

→ yourusername oh shut up they were always like that they just stopped pretending 🙄

lhughes_06 you kept complaining when jack and quinn piled on top of you

→ yourusername BC THEY KEPT MOVING and 350 lbs of weight on your back isn’t ideal

→ edwards.73 just like how you kept complaining when benedict came into the picture? lhughes_06

→ lhughes_06 what no idk what ur talking abt shut up

→ yourusername ?????

username75 did ethan just expose luke 😭😭

→ username64 it’s not like we didn’t know anyway

bookerburke_ aw we should make mini pizzas when you get back ☺️☺️

→ yourusername ofc mwah 🥰

yourusername

liked by dylanduke25, _alexturcotte, luca.fantilli, and 79,992 others

yourusername gingerbread house contest went.. um.. let’s just say there was an obvious but not crowned (😒) winning team! and then we baked desserts bc these competitive dummies couldn’t stand to lose against me n dyl 🤗🤗

view all comments

mackie.samo u literally didnt win

→ yourusername u literally didnt finish ur house

dylanduke25 our team clearly won

→ yourusername ofc ofc

markestapa my team did a better job

→ yourusername ethan kept licking the frosting and mackie spilled the candy all over the counter…

→ edwards.73 and we still did a better job 🥱

username56 the gingerbread houses are so chaotic lmaooooo

username98 THE SANTA COOKIES AWWWW

username49 i can smell the diabetes coming from this post

jackhughes i like to think our house didn’t turn out that bad

→ lhughes_06 fr we did good

→ yourusername only because quinn was yelling at you the whole time

→ _quinnhughes i wasn’t yelling i was just loudly guiding them

colecaufield save some cookies for me

→ yourusername by the time you get them they’ll have gone bad 😭😭

username48 they’re all so competitive it’s so funny

rutgermcgroarty “how many heart shaped desserts can you make in one week” challenge go!

→ yourusername shut up there’s nothing wrong with liking heart shaped desserts ☹️

→ rutgermcgroarty it’s become an unhealthy addiction

_alexturcotte i personally believe the last gingerbread house is the best one

→ mackie.samo EXACTLYYY

→ edwards.73 OBVIOUSLY

→ markestapa YES THANK YOU

→ yourusername you all need help

username71 HOW ARE YOUR SNOWMEN DESIGNS SO NEAT

next chapter notes ) i’m not kidding when i tell you it took me forever to make this BUT I HOPE EVERYONE STILL LIKES IT

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot

[forestmossling]

okay. oh my fucking god. oh god, okay.

this is INSANE. this is absolutely fucking crazy. what i’m about to recommend you is absolutely fucking mind-bogglingly pants-shittingly bonkers in its brilliance, so y’all better read closely.

it’s always the fics with the shortest, least descriptive summaries ever, the ones you absent-mindedly stashed in your “marked for later” and forgot about them, isn’t it?

anyway, this is a masterpiece. in every definition and understanding of the word. there are too many great points about what’s going on in this fic and why you absolutely have to read it, so forgive me if i’m gonna be pretty incomprehensible and incoherent rn, okay?

first of all, the way this fic just ties the whole of the st universe together, the way eddie munson doesn’t just spawn out of nowhere in the beginning of s4, but actually exists in hawkins all this time. the way he witnesses all the crazy going-ons in town from the sidelines, and still has his own opinions and thoughts on them, even if he didn’t actively take part in them. just, love to see it.

second of all, different “first” meeting. oh my god, but how i love thee. obviously it wasn’t really the first meeting here, but steve and eddie coming together before the original timeline is something i will never get enough of, and it was done brilliantly here. the way their first conscious interaction happens when steve comes to apologize for being a piece of shit, and the way the narrative, from eddie’s pov, never lets you downplay and just forget that steve was, in fact, a douchebag in high school, is also something i love to see. yes, he’s forgiven, but not because he wasn’t that bad in the first place, as a lot of fics love to make it out to be (which, i don’t blame them, that’s also fine), but because he actively works to become a better person. we see him, time and time again, actively holding himself back from sliding into the “king steve” persona, owning up to the shit he did and proving that he has changed, and it’s beautiful. and it’s also nice to see here, because eddie doesn’t even find out about all the upside down shenanigans in this fic, so for him, steve isn’t a better person now because he saw him in his heroic martyr era and was impressed. he’s better because he doesn’t just let these objectively heroic and admirable actions automatically absolve him of all his sins, but actively works to repair the damage he did before he committed them. which also happens in canon, i guess, but i really love how it was shown here.

third, eddie. characterization in general, but eddie’s in particular, because oh my fucking god. he’s absolutely insane in the most humane and captivating way possible. the way he has so much history that made him the way he is, the way we see this past overlap with the present and realize how it affects the decisions he makes, the interactions he has with other people. and the way his past was written in general, the way it flashes him out so deeply as a person is absolutely brilliant. and the way he sees the world around him, the way his perceptions of the moments we catch him in is so deep and full of volume, dimension. it’s like one second you’re with him, listening to the conversation he has with another person, and another - in a wave of sound and music he taps on his leg with his fingers, in the songs he hears reverberating through every feeling he has. and the author is so masterful with throwing you around from one plane of reality to another, the way eddie is in his brain, and it’s so much it’s almost overwhelming, but they catch you just on the edge in the last second and keep your brain from being torn apart from trying to comprehend the absolute insanity going on in eddie’s head.

it really felt like this fic was repeatedly slapping me across the face and all i could do was deliriously ask for more.

and, while we’re on the topic of characterization, literally every character and every interaction between them are so real and so fitting for who they are in this universe. the way even through eddie’s warped perspective of him, steve’s actions and views fall into a perfectly functioning justified mechanism for the reader, not a screw out of place. the way through simple, and, on the surface, absolutely mundane conversations about the horror and romance genres, about the characters in the book eddie’s writing (he is, btw, and it’s also brilliant), we see the whole of who these characters are, how they see the world and themselves in it, their deepest fears and desires. and even aside from steddie, a personal stand-out for me was jeff, because he has a whole life outside of eddie’s narrative, and still manages to contribute to the plot and give insights into eddie and himself while not being a cardboard cut-out, only existing for the benefit of pushing eddie’s story forward. and the rest of hellfire - past and present - while mostly serving the purpose of showing how precious steve’s attention and care for things they didn’t get about eddie is, are still their own people.

whatever the next number is, i’m losing count, - the language the fic is written in. it’s just so fucking clever. the dialogues are witty and captivating without stinking of made-up-ness, the metaphors are so deep and colorful and voluminous without being pretentious and over the top. the words of this fic are something you have to chew on before you swallow, let the author immerse you in the picture they’re painting without breezing from one predictable trope point to another (which, they aren’t really predictable and expected here, which is another huge pro) in the everlasting greed for cheap escapism, as i am prone to doing. and that’s another thing i’m really grateful to this author for - making me sit with the words i’m reading for a second, instead of just gorging on them in my haste to get to the end and start another story, frantic to keep my brain occupied.

also, this fic genuinely had me endlessly invested in the fate of the characters, scared shitless or elated for them. it yanked me right out of the usual safety of predictable plot tropes which usually makes fanfiction so attractive for me, but i really wasn’t complaining. on one of the most stressful and deciding scenes of the fic (no spoilers tho), i genuinely started crying. i felt eddie’s resignation and anguish so deeply and personally, i couldn’t hold back if i wanted to. and that’s another thing i’m extremely grateful for - the absolute rollercoaster of emotions i went through before i got the reward of the happy ending.

i would also like to say that i was floored with how period-typical homophobia and other social issues were presented in this work. obviously, i can’t really vouch for it being realistic or not, because i’m not american and wasn’t even alive during that time, but i can say that it did feel very very real. in a lot of other works that talk about these issues the homophobia and societal judgement seem like such nebulous, far-away concepts, that are obviously real and have a tangible impact on the characters, but it’s like their still escapable, still out of reach (which, again, is not a bad thing). but here i felt like the repercussions for being who you are were physically breathing down my neck, incapacitating me with horror. and, on that note, just, the author’s overall attention to detail and period-fitting pop-culture and other little things that painted such a larger picture of living in that time period, tying the fictional story so tightly down to it. it felt so grounded in reality, that i felt like a person could tell me their older relative had gone through this in the eighties and i would believe them. but, as i said, i’m obviously not an authority on that topic for aforementioned reasons.

and also, aside from the reader’s perspective on the work, as a person who tries to write myself, i realize that this is the level of writing skill i’m aspiring towards. this is what i want my works to feel like to a reader, and i’m really not there yet, but seeing works like these inspires me so much to grow.

also, i would’ve absolutely loved to see a little bit more of robin there, to find out how this change in the canon narrative would affect the events of the s4, to see how steddie’s relationship would develop and transform with the upside down thrown into the mix. and that’s definitely not a slight against the fic for not including this things, but more of a testament to how greatly invested the author made me in their version of the story and how hard it is for me to let go of it. this fic is perfectly complete without those things, but, once i got a taste, i couldn’t help but want more and more, even though this story definitely isn’t in any way lacking or in need of those to feel whole. but that’s mostly my selfish desires speaking, don’t mind me.

and, here, have a couple of snippets with no particular reasoning behind them, just because they made me giggle:

i’m getting real rambly and i’m genuinely afraid this whole post is absolutely unreadable with how frantic and jittery i am in trying to get this off my chest, but when i’m telling you i was buzzing with this word-vomit, almost frothing at the mouth with the need to express the absolute glorious hellscape this fic left me in after i finished it, i’m probably underselling it.

so, in conclusion, please read this fic. please please please read this fic. if not for my sake or the @fabelds-blog’s (who got criminally little recognition for this masterpiece), then for your own, because i can guarantee you that not one second of reading this work will feel like a waste of time or a disappointment. *me, pointing a gun at you with shaking hands while tears stream down my face* please, PLEASE read this fic, because it’s absolutely worth it.

so, yeah. i don’t think a number large enough to rate this work even exists, but my closest approximation is 999999836526272910018172654244536384847635526728190199986553781010018654463892010197654272458499900909261379/10, am recommending. and, obviously, it’s up to you if you’re going to actually read the fic, but if after this madman’s rant you still opted not to, i regret to inform you that that is, in fact, the wrong choice, and i’m strongly urging you to reconsider.

[str4ngerthingshavehappenedhere]

Patched up

Masterlist

Summary: You're surprised by a bruised sailor and tasked to patch him up. Warnings: Mentions of blood and Steve Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader A/N: I have returned! Missed you guys and I hope you enjoy the new fic!

This fic is set after season 3's finale. I did a similar fic prompt last year but I wanted to change reader and Steve's dynamic.

P/N is pet name 😁

Dustin looked at you with pleading eyes as did the rest of the group. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers as you stepped aside so they could drag the bloodied sailor into your living room and, not so gently, throw hm upright onto the sofa.

You weren’t annoyed that they brought him here. At this point this was a regular summer experience. Once it was mentioned that you had first aid training and parents who were both doctors, suddenly in the eyes of Steve and the ragtag group of youths, you were a god at anything medical. After finding out about all crazy things that were happening in Hawkins, the group decided you were the perfect alternative to showing up at the hospital and having to make excuses for why their adult friend was covered in injuries, again.

You were worried about Steve. The number of times that he had shown up to your house after getting himself into another insane situation is becoming almost too common. From the day he showed up covered in injuries after Byers beat him up, something to this day Steve will deny ever happened and that he totally won that fight.

“What the hell happened?” You stared down with concern at Steve who was slumped over.

“Mindflayer.” Lucas replied.

“Mind-a-what now?” You shook your head, realizing you were getting off topic. “Never mind. Guys he needs an actual doctor. These injuries are way worse than the usual fix ups I do for him.”

“He asked us to bring him here Y/N. He wanted you to fix him up.” Dustin looked at you with puppy dog eyes. Steve had taught him well.

You let out another sigh “Fine. You guys must all be exhausted, go home. I’ll take care of Steve, okay?” Dustin looked over at Steve with a worried expression.

You place your hand on top of Dustin head, ruffling his hair lightly that, as always, is under one of his many hats.

 “Dustin, he’ll be okay. When have I ever let you down with this stuff?”

“Never.”

“Eeeexactly.” You smiled “I’ll make sure he’s looking brand new by tomorrow, okay?” Dustin gave a toothless grin in response.

“Now seriously, get your butt’s home before your parents get worried.”

“Good luck, Y/N!” Dustin yelled as he walked out of the front door, the rest of the group following close behind.

“I got this, don’t worry!” You reply, watching as the chaos crew entered the back of Steves car. You were wondering who managed to drive them all here before clocking the identical sailor outfit to Steves.

Robin Buckley sat in the driver’s seat, waving at you as the last of the group climbed into the vehicle and shut the back door of Steve's car.

You weren’t close with Robin in the beginning since you only occasionally past her in the halls at Hawkins high, but ever since she began scooping ice cream with Steve, and would join in on your playful bullying of Steve when you'd visit him at work, did you both grow closer as friends.

You walk over to the car and lean down so your eye to eye with Robin.

“Since when did you learn to drive?” You asked.

“Since never. All the towns’ police are kind of occupied by the mall fire, so I’m making the most of it” You let out a giggle in response.

“Steve taught me the basics in the mall car park once time, so I think I’ve got it.”

“She stalled the car multiple times on the way over here”.

Robin turned around to look at the culprit. “Do you want to walk home?” You laughed as Dustin slowly sunk back into his seat; hands raised in surrender “I’ll shut up”.

“Alright guys, get home safe.” you smiled, tapping the top of the car as you stood up.

“What? with Robin driving?”

“Last chance Dustybun, or I’m making you walk”. Robin mocked him in response, turning the ignition and starting the car engine.

“Sorry, sorry last time promise”

You walked back to the house, giggling over the bickering group as they, with a little bit of difficulty, drove away. Once the car was out of your sight you entered your home and shut the door, locking it behind you.

You walk towards the couch, crouching down so you are facing eye level with Steve. You reach your hand out and gently remove a strand of hair that was covering his face. You smile softly at his sleeping form. Even though he was all bruised and bloody this was probably the most relaxed you had seen him in a while.

“Even when you’re a bloody mess you still look pretty.”

“That’s so sweet.” You jumped lightly as Steve chuckled, trying to sit up. All was in vain as his laugh was replaced with a groan. He held his left side as you sat next to him, pulling him gently by his uniform shirt so he was leaning against you. You rest his head on your shoulder, both sitting in complete silence. A few minutes pass before you decide to speak.

“I know this might sound like a dumb question but. Are you okay?”

Steve chuckled before immediately groaning again, leaning more into you to ease the pain on his side.

“Just peachy, Y/N” He replied in his usual light-hearted sarcastic tone.

“Shut up you dingbat.” You giggled, maneuvering Steve around so you could wrap his arm around your shoulder and your arm around his waist, lifting him off the couch.

“That’s a new one. That’s definitely an upgrade from ‘dingus’”.

“Come on.” You grunt slightly as you take Steve’s whole weight against you. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.” You both began the impending journey up the stairs to your en suite bathroom to patch the floofy haired boy up.

✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✭✮✮✭✮✮✭✮✮✭✮

Once you both reach your en suite bathroom you, as gently as you can, lower Steve onto the edge of the bath, reaching over him to turn on the shower. You fail to notice his face go red as your chest was currently inches from his face. Once you manage to turn on the shower you lean back, hearing Steve let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Thanks again for patching me up Y/N.” your back is to Steve, smiling like an idiot as you open the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink, completely forgetting there is a mirror and Steve had a clear view of how happy that made you. He smiled to himself; head lowered slightly.

There was a moment of silence as you began collecting what you need from the medicine cabinet. Once you had everything you begin to close the door but pause briefly. A brief sigh exits your lips.

“As much as I love spending time with you, I wish it was under better circumstances.”

Steve looked at you confused.

“What do you mean?”

You shut the cabinet door, placing the bandages and other first aid items on the edge of the sink. Your back still turned to Steve.

“I hate seeing you hurt. Prefer it when you’re not covered in bruises. I mean-” You turned around to face him. He’s looking at you from where he is now stood, the same puppy dog eyed look he always gives you when he wants you to stop being mad at him for something.

You lift your hand up to rest against his cheek but stop yourself, briefly hovering over his cheek. He catches your hand before you have a chance to, pressing your hand against his cheek. He leans into it, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Look at you Steve. This keeps happening after every summer and I’m terrified there will be a time that you don’t make it to me in time. That there’s a day you are really badly injured and I’m not there to fix it.”

“You don’t have to worry about that Y/N. I’d never leave you”.

“You can’t promise that”.

“But I can try. I promise I’ll at least try to be more careful, okay?” He moves your hand from his face, holding it in his own as he raises his other hand to caress your cheek softly. You sigh as you relax into him.

“We need to get you fixed up”.

“Gimmie a second. I’m happy like this”

“You’re going to be the death of me, Harrington”.

There's a pause as you enjoy each other’s touch. You pull your hand away after a while and place your hand on Steve's shoulders, gently pushing him to sit back on the edge of the bath. He had a sad look on his face that you wanted to kiss away. You shook off that feeling and turned back to the sink, picking up some cotton balls that you soaked in disinfected. You turned back to Steve and stepped towards him, lifting his head up with your free hand.

“This is gonna sting a little, okay?” He nods in acceptance as you tilt his head a little higher, gently pressing the cotton ball to the cut on his lip. He hisses under his breath, and you pull the cotton ball away quickly, apologizing as he shakes his head.

“It’s okay Y/N. Thank you for taking care of me.” He lifts his hands to your hips, pulling you closer to him as he opens his legs and allowing you to slot in between them.

His hands never leave your hips as they hold you in place, his thumbs gently caressing the bit of exposed skin above your pyjama pants. You felt like all the air in your body had escaped. You try to shake it off and continue to gently apply the disinfectant to the cuts and bruises on his skin, apologising every time he looked the slighted bit in pain.

“Do you like Robin?” You didn’t even realize it was said until it left your lips. You didn’t even think it was on your mind at this moment in time, but it must have been eating away at you ever since Robin talked about Steve giving her driving lessons in the mall parking lot. They’re always together and as much as you love Robin, you hate the thought of them turning around one day and telling you they’re an item. You don’t think you could bare it.

Steve looked at you with nothing but pure confusion.

“Where did that come from?”

“Nothing just forget I said anything” You mutter under your breath, now starting to wipe away the blood from Steve’s face.

Steve pulled you closer, removing any space left between you, his hands still placed gently against your hips.

“Tell me, Y/n” He whispered, looking up at you again with those big brown eyes. You looked anywhere except his eyes, If you did you genuinely think it would kill you.

“I just-” you take a deep breath, thinking about how to word it without screaming the face you were in love with him.

“You guys are together a lot, and I noticed you’re a lot closer to each other lately. I just wanted to know, I guess.”

“How would you feel if we were?” Your heart felt like it sunk into your stomach.

“I’d hate it, Steve.” You had finished cleaning up his wounds a few minutes ago, you just couldn’t bare to step away from him. You wanted to make this moment last as long as you could. You lowered the cloth from his face, finally looking him in the eyes.

He slowly stood up, hands moving up to rest against your face, caressing your cheeks. He gently rests his forehead against yours.

“Why would you hate it, Y/n?” There's a long pause, unable to say what you need to say.

He nudges his nose against yours.

“Please tell me.” He whispers, lips only inches away from yours. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, leaning into his touch.

“I really like you Ste-” His lips smash against yours before you had a chance to finish your sentence.

“I like you Y/N” He whispered before kissing you again.

“I like you so much.” You smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss lasts what feels like eternity before Steve releases a hiss, both of you forgetting about the cut on his lip.

“Sorry, Stevie.” You caress the skin just under the cut and Steve looks at you with nothing but pure love and adoration.

“Totally worth it, P/N.” Your heart fluttered at the new nickname as did his at yours.

You step away slightly from his embrace, his lips form into a pout from the lack of your touch. You take his hand and lead him back to your bedroom.

You let go of his hand briefly to rummage through your dresser draws, revealing a shirt and shorts he had left from the last time he had stayed over.

He accepted the clothes with a smile, practically glowing with joy that this was finally happening, that you were finally his.

“Go take a shower then we can continue where we left off” You had never seen Steve move faster in your life. You giggled as he shut the door behind him. You turned around to find another shirt for yourself, realizing a bit of Steve's blood had ended up on your shirt. The door opened again briefly, revealing a shirtless Steve. Your face turned bright red as he laughed.

“Wanna join me?” You threw the shirt you had in your hand at the door, Steve managing to close the door before the shirt hit him.

“Worth a shot!” You hear behind the bathroom door, making you giggle once again, walking over to retrieve your shirt and changing before removing the blanket and settling into bed.

You lay facing away from the bathroom door, feeling sleep dawn over you as it was getting late. Before you had a chance to fully drift asleep you hear the bathroom door open and suddenly feel the full weight of Steve as he jumps onto the bed and proceeds to rub his wet hair across your face, neck and chest.

“Ewwww, get off!” You said through fits of laughter as you push him back. He stops and lifts his head with a chuckle, his body now hovering over yours, hands resting either side of your head as he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“Let me take you out on a date tomorrow.” You looked at him with slight confusion.

“What, like a date?” He leans forward, kissing your forehead with a smile on his face.

“That’s normally what couples do.”

“Were a couple now?”

“Well after what we did in the bathroom id hope so”.

“You make it sound like we fornicated or something”.

“Fornicated? What are you 60 or something? Who uses that word for sex” he says through laughter before his face comes into contact with a pillow.

He rolls onto his back, continuing his chuckling and you pretend to get out of bed. You immediately feel Steve pull you back flush against his chest, his face pressed into your neck.

“Don’t go, please”. He said with the slightest bit of desperation. You giggle once more, rotating your body so you’re facing him, placing a gentle kiss against his cheek.

“Wanna continue where we left of in the bathroom?”

“What, the fornication?”

“I swear I will leave”.

“Okay, okay I’m sorry.” He stops chuckling and simply looks at you once again with nothing but complete adoration.

“I really want to go on a date with you by the way.”

“I know, P/N” He whispers against your lips, kissing you once again.

“And I really want us to be a couple” Steve smiles against your lips, pulling you impossibly closer and deepening the kiss.

[sunshineandspencer]

Has to be a joke (Iridescent, Part 1)

A/N: I will be writing more based on these two (I'm currently writing a fic but wanted to put the ideas out) and wanted to show their first meeting :) I hope you enjoy <33 also this is set for postprison!spencer, except I'm too much of a wuss to go past season 10, so expect inaccuracies into how that all goes down.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: Spencer doesn't like the name of his new partner.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: swearing, spencer is an ass™ (I have no idea I've never done this before sorry)

Parts: Pt2

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

In all the mind-fucking ways that the BAU have slowly tried to help her adjust - by that, her very first case was a misogynistic cannibal that seemed to like her a touch too much - this had to be the worst.

Granted, she is a pushover, and so she agreed to do this, so honestly she brought this upon herself.

Spencer Reid, the man she had been acting as a ‘replacement’ for while he was in prison, was finally coming back. Some might assume, ‘oh- this means you’re going back to cyber crimes right’. A fair enough assumption, and one she had made herself.

However, Emily, her Unit Chief, liked her work so much that she was asked to stay permanently. Of course, blaming the pushover-ness again, she agreed.

Now, not only did she find herself potentially becoming Spencer’s partner but she was tasked with cleaning his desk before he got back.

For the most part, they kept it clean in his absence, but an uptick in cases and zero free time meant that it became neglected. Everyone quickly agreed that the germophobic man would not like to come back from prison to a dusty desk. In comes his new partner, agreeing with a self-depreciative laugh as she stayed behind to dust off the desk and array of personal items.

Not that it’s wholly surprising that she was the one left behind. She is the newest member, had never met Spencer, and a massive sucker.

Just as they walked out JJ mentioned that he had an eidetic memory, so everything had to be put back perfectly or he’d notice. The last thing she wanted was her new partner, the sought after and beloved Doctor Reid, to hate her.

Quietly grumbling to herself as she dusted and set back the third Doctor Who figurine, very nearly done.

But she heard voices from beyond the bullpen and swore. Doing a final sweep with the microfiber cloth and then chucking it behind her onto her desk. Reaching out to spin a pen back into place and stepping back to stand beside her own desk, wondering if she looked as insane as she currently felt.

Thankfully it seemed like they’d had a good drive in, after all, he’s only coming in to get reinstated properly and then he has to take thirty days off. Emily’s rules to make sure that he gets to stay for good.

Nervously, she pulled on a bright smile, lacing her hands together painfully to stop herself from reaching for a handshake. Germaphobe, she reminded herself, don’t offer your fucking hand.

Spencer, as he walked over, must’ve either sensed the pure waves of anxiety crashing off of her, or just profiled his way to the conclusion that she was losing her mind, because he put on a soft and welcoming smile.

Right in character for the man Garcia had painted him out to be.

Once she realised he was waiting, so damn patiently for her to start talking, she blinked softly and seemed to restart with a friendly smile.

“Hi! I uhm.. I was your replacement while you were.. Gone. But they-- Emily, liked me and asked me to stay on as your new partner. I hope that’s alright, I’m still kind of new here.”

Oh thank God he seems like an absolute sweetheart right now, because she honestly couldn’t have been able to cope otherwise. She’s not good with confrontation or high emotions.

“That’s completely fine, as long as you don’t mind an ex-convict.”

This man, immediately, had a giggle bubbling up in her throat. A giggle. She’s a fucking grown woman.

So she stamps it down, to maintain her own image and save face in front of this downright gorgeous man.

“Of course not! I’ve read your work thousands of times, and everyone here has told me so much about you. A little jail time isn’t going to scare me off.”

Soft banter, she can do that, that’s something normal and socially inclined people do. Even with very attractive people that kind of look at them as if they clearly know how they turn people’s brains to mush. Like he’s doing right now.

Penelope and JJ had shown her so many photos of Spencer so that she’d know exactly who she’d be covering for - and then working with. And honestly, she’d been absolutely destroyed by him in sweater vests and looking like he doesn’t know how to use his own limbs. They’d described him as a ‘human bambi’, but clearly they still had rose tinted glasses on.

Because somewhere in the last decade they seemed to have missed the way their little sweater-vest-wearing boy completely grew into a man, and decided to use his Godhood to pick on his new partner.

When she finally stopped thinking about all the ways she was going to murder Garcia for not preparing her for this, she caught movement on his face. His eyebrow raising and the corner of his lips seemingly unable to decide whether or not he wants to smile.

“Wh- What? Sorry, I didn’t.. I didn’t catch that.”

He smiled, clearly fully aware of himself and how he’s destroying her ability to think, and she nervously returned it, wondering how hard she’d have to jump for the floor to crack open and let her drop.

“Your name, angel.”

Angel?! Oh, she’s fucked.

“N-Name? My name? Right, sorry. I’m Maeve Donnelly, but no one really-”

He visibly jolts, small but she’s hyper-aware of his every move right now, and that one certainly didn’t look positive. His eyes finally moved from her face to look up at Emily’s office, and she had to be careful to remind herself to breathe.

When he looks back, all signs of willing friendliness have gone, and suddenly she’s being scowled at, causing a lump to rise in her throat.

Confrontation is a bitch, especially when she doesn’t know what she’s done.

“Your name is Maeve Donnelly? Is this a joke?”

“I- no?” She was the one to flinch this time, by the sound of his voice and just how harshly it met her ribs clack against her lungs. “It’s- It’s my name, what’s wrong with my name?”

Tossing his bag onto his desk, he shoved past her to sit down, and she’s trying to piece together what had happened to make him react like this, completely unprompted. All she did was say her name, he’s the one that asked her to.

Still scowling at her as he starts packing away case files to work on at home, clearly not wanting to be around her anymore.

“What isn’t wrong with your name?! Honestly, if this is your idea of a joke, I don’t think we’ll be together for very long.”

Storming past her again, he starts the walk up to the chief’s office, and she’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that she might not actually have a job after today. Especially when he turned back one last time.

“And I know you touched my fucking desk, my stuff has been moved. Don’t fucking do that again.”

Just like that, as he stormed into Emily’s office and she stayed feeling small and entirely unwelcome by her new partner, she reminisced on the brief moment that she found him attractive and how she’ll never get to feel like that again. Considering he’s a massive arse who just judged her entirely by her name and refused to elaborate.

Damn, at the very least, she won’t have to deal with him for long if he gets his wish of getting her kicked off the BAU, maybe then she can finally go back to cyber crimes.

Want more?! Good!