#I never thought I would be going so far in the story to explain WHY Kris pulls out their SOUL and opens Darkfountains even when they killed

[put-me-through-the-wall]

All Bark, No Bite

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BodyGuard!Simon "Ghost" Riley x rich girl!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: Simon takes on a job that may be more than he bargained for.

Content warnings: This story contains elements of intoxication, sexual assault, and violence. If you are not in the headspace to consume this content please scroll on.

A/N: Hello folks, I am kinda getting back into the swing of things. While working on another story this idea popped into my head and I had to get it down while the creativity was flowing. Pumped this bad boy out in one day so if it seems rushed I apologize. I just wanted to get it done tonight before I have to go back to work. As usual let me know what you think. If y'all like it I may do a part two. Thank you so much for all the support! Love you guys!

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At first Simon was irritated at such a small time job being given to someone with his expertise. Growing more resentful by the day as he prepares for his stay at your family's property. When he was offered a long term private security job he thought it would be more along the idea of escorting an important political figure or guarding an extremely dangerous weapon of mass destruction. He never thought he would see himself packing suits and nice shoes for a job.

He becomes a little less irritated when he is introduced to you. Seeing such a beautiful young woman greet him in the entryway of your dazzling family home he figures the next few months may not be so bad. Getting to watch a cute little thing like you all day stroll around the expansive acres of gardens and woodlands.

As he takes your delicate hand carefully in his own upon your first meeting. “Pleasure to meet you ma’am” making sure to use his best manners.

 You roll your eyes. "Why would I need a bodyguard?" you scoff to your father’s assistant, hardly bothering to make eye contact with Simon. 

Simon was taken aback by the rude attitude that mismatched with your sweet appearance. It is explained to you that now that you are going out on your own you need someone to make sure you're safe. After a huff you stomp off, thus beginning Simon’s first day. 

During your first night together he can see why he was requested for this job. As soon as the sun sets you're out the door without a word. Simon scrambles to catch up as you climb in the backseat of your private car. Slipping in just before the driver slams the door in his face.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" you look at him in shock. Scooting as far away from him as possible, pressing against the opposite car door, as if his very presence was an assault. "No way this is happening. You’re staying here,"

"Sorry ma'am. Just doin' my job," he firmly plants himself next to you and stares ahead. 

You huff and puff the whole drive to town. Complaining that he is going to ruin your night and scare away any man who approaches. Simon silently smiles under his mask at your bratty tone. 

When the car pulls up outside of a raging club you are quick to crawl over Simon's intruding frame and get out ahead of him. In your haste unintentionally flashing him a pretty view of your lace panties underneath your criminally short dress. 

You get a brisk pace once out of the vehicle, rushing past all the patrons and straight to the bouncer. Flashing him a smile and your ID he seems to already know you well and you walk past barely slowing down your pace.

The bounce is quick to halt Simon in his tracks though. Makes him stop to explain before reluctantly allowing him access.

When he step inside he is momentarily stunned by the pulsing colorful lights and pounding music. His height gives him an advantage as he scans the crowd of partygoers searching for you. You have managed to mix in with the sea of people while he was held up at the door. 

He pushes through to the bar, carelessly shoving away anyone in his path. Ignoring the excuse you's and angry swears tossed his way. He eventually finds you, sparkling in your rhinestone covered dress leaned provocatively against the bar trying to get the bartender's attention. He watches you bat your eyelashes and cross your arms under your breasts. Proudly showing off to anyone who would look your way. 

When you feel the large presence behind you, you look over your shoulder with flirty eyes until you realize who it is. "God, take a hint," you shout over the loud music. You turn back to the bar and bang your hand on the counter top, "Hey! can I please get a drink!" 

The bartender finally steps over. "What will it be tonight?" he greets you smugly with a knowing grin.

"Hm surprise me," you counter with a sweet smile.

He mixes a colorful drink and pours it into a martini glass before sliding it over to you. You hand over your gilded credit card, "Keep it open," you wink. You spin around while taking a sip of your drink, almost bumping into Simon.

"Look, if you're going to hang around all night you need to give me room to breathe at least." You shove your hand into his chest and push him away harshly. Though, frustratingly, he hardly budges. 

Simon suppresses the urge to grab your little wrist in his crushing grip and show you how to be respectful to others. Instead he stares down at you refusing to break your annoyed stare. He can tell you're used to people shrinking away under your gaze.

You quirk in an eyebrow and humorlessly chuckle before breezing past him and onto the dance floor. You maneuver into the crowd up towards the DJ. Simon keeps his distance for now allowing you to dance freely under his watchful eye. He finds a high table in an unlit corner of the club at the edge of the crowd. 

You move to the pulse of the music. Swaying your hips loosely, the jewels of your dress reflecting the passing lights. You spin and twist like a human embodiment of a disco ball in the center of the dance floor. Your free hand trails down your body sensually as you mouth the words to the song playing. You are carefree as you sip your drink quickly extinguishing its contents. 

It's not long until a stranger approaches you from behind. Both hands coming around you to pull your hips into them. You smile and move along with them. The man ducks his head down and whispers into your ear causing you to giggle. 

Simon hates watching this stranger run his hands along your perfect body. Smelling your perfume and touching your hot, soft skin. He knows the stranger only wants you for one reason and it angers him to watch. Simon feels a fury building inside of him but he stays put, not wanting to make a scene just yet. Waiting to see how far the exchange will go. 

The man's hand slides up your waist,  brushing the underside of your breasts. You don't seem to mind as you continue dancing, closing your eyes and bringing one of your hands up to hold onto the back of his neck and running your fingers through his hair. 

After a few songs together and several more drinks the man is now kissing up your neck and fully groping your body. The movements are growing more heated by the second. He whispers in your ear again and you bite your lip in response. You look through the crowd until through the wall bobbing heads your eyes find Simon's through the busy crowd. Your playful smile drops when he raises his hand to wave at you letting you know he is still here and still watching, much to your discontent. 

You spin around to meet the stranger face to face. Your movements have become sloppy and uncoordinated with the amount of alcohol in your system. You pull him down by his shirt so you can mumble in his ear once more. He smiles and grabs your hand quickly pulling you in the opposite direction. You nearly trip over your own feet following him. You look back at Simon and wave back sarcastically with a wink before disappearing in the crowd of dancing bodies. 

Simon makes a beeline towards you but by the time he breaks through the congestion of people you are nowhere in sight. He walks along the perimeter of the room not seeing you at the bar or sitting in the lounge area. He grows frantic in his search scanning for you but finding nothing. 

He find his way to a hazy corridor lit by strips of red lights along the ceiling. The walls lined with couples making out or smoking in the cramped passageway. He breaks apart a few offended couples to make sure it wasn't you. He can’t believe he agreed to do this shit. Chasing around a spoiled rich brat was not the job he signed up for. 

He reaches the exit door at the end of the hallway. He pushes through to reveal the dim city alleyway. Worn brick walls scattered with graffiti are lined with trash cans and dumpsters. He steps down from the stoop to the concrete ground littered with garbage. He looks back and forth, seeing no signs of life besides a few roaches scattering underneath an old can. He is about to head back inside for another look when a nearby noise catches his attention. 

He freezes in place until he hears more shuffling and soft mumblings. He steps quietly down the alley. Walking past one of the large dumpsters he locates the origin of the sounds. Finally finding you. You’re pressed against the side of the dumpster along with the stranger. 

The man's hand covers your mouth and his other freely roams your body, dipping underneath the hem of your dress. You whimper out weakly trying to push him off with no avail. Your unfocused eyes widen when you see Simon walking towards you. Your muffled protests grow more persistent as you plead for help. "I said shut up, bitch," the stranger hisses.

Simon’s brain short circuits at the sight before him. It all goes red. He wastes no time snatching up the back of man's jacket and yanking him off of you. Without the man holding you up, you fall back against the metal side of the dumpster. Weak legs unable to hold you up as you crumple to the dirty floor. 

Simon pushes the man to the other side of the alley and into the wall. Immediately bashing his shocked expression with several punches and he holds him in place by the collar. The man grunts out in pain with each hit, his cheekbone and eye socket swelling from the abuse almost instantly. 

"You like taking advantage of girls?" Simon questions dangerously. His voice came out as more of a growl before continuing his assault. “Piece o' shit. I’ll fucking kill you,”

In between punches the man attempts to put his hands up in dense, "I'm sorry man! I-I didn't know she was yours" the words quickly tumble from his bloody lips. 

Only infuriating Simon further he pulls his pistol from his concealed holster on his back. He grabs the side of the man's jaw harshly until his mouth is forced open. He shoves the barrel into the man's mouth. “I should blow your bloody brain out. That’s what I like. Killing sick fuck’s like you. Would you like that, mate?” He cocks his head in question. 

The man shakes his head urgently. Simon shoves the barrel further into his mouth, completely stretching the man's mouth open to fit the intruding cool steel. “It doesn’t feel good, does it? Being forced to take it, huh?” 

The man shakes his head again looking to be on the edge of tears. Simon removes the pistol from his mouth “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me” the man whimpers. Simon pulls the man off the wall and pushes him towards you, gun now pressed to the back of his head. 

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to her” Simon demands

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I thought-” The man is cut off when Simon hits him in the back of the head with the handle of his pistol. 

“You thought nothin’. Just say you’re bloody sorry” He grits out. 

“I’m sorry” the man cries. 

Satisfied that the man has had enough punishment for now Simon reholsters his weapon and leans until he is only inches away from the man’s face. Simon’s crazed eyes darted across the man’s face. “If I ever see you again, you are dead. Yeah?” Simon's voice now scarily calm. The man nods frantically. Simon nods in return then shoves the man backwards. 

He falls back onto the dirty concrete ground roughly. He scrambles back up to his feet and bolts out of the alley way.  

Finally Simon turns his attention back to you. On your hands and knees sniffling as you gather several of your items that spilled out of your dropped purse. 

Simon quickly kneels down to meet you. "You alright?" you shake your head and look up to him pitifully. Your makeup is now smeared down your cheeks. Your hair hangs messily around your face. 

"He broke my purse," your words coming out slurred and whiney. 

Simon's heart pangs with sympathy as you hold up your sparkling purse to show its broken strap. 

"S' alright, we'll get you a new one," he gently takes your hands and brings you to your feet. He adjusts your dress for you, pulling down its hem to cover more of your exposed thighs and push your fallen strap back on your shoulder. As his hand brushes the exposed skin you shiver causing your skin to erupt into goosebumps. You hold your arms against your chest to combat the chilly evening air.

“He told me he just wanted to talk somewhere quieter. I-I didn’t even realize wha-” 

“Shh, S’ gonna be okay. You don’t need to explain. I know.” Simon takes off his large coat and puts it over your shoulders, pulling it tight around you so you are totally swallowed by its dense material.

"Can we go home?" you ask shakily.

"Course, ma'am" his hand comes around your shoulders to usher you out of the alley way. You wobble when you try to walk. Simon catches you as your legs start to buckle beneath you.

Without a second though Simon scoops you up in his strong arms. He is surprised at your lack of protest. You drop your head onto his shoulder as a few tears continue bleeding into the fabric of his shirt. You mumble watery apologies, half of the words lost as incoherent slurs.

"Don't need to apologize. Just doing my job, ma'am," Simon steps out to the road and sees your car parked and waiting just across the road. The driver hops out and opens the door for him. 

Simon carefully places you down on the seat before ducking into the car himself. When he sits you scoot closer and drop your head to lean on his bicep. Your arms wrap around his forearm, finger dancing across his skin tracing the veins down to his hand. You gasp when your blurry vision focuses on his bloody knuckles.

“Oh my god” you mumble.

“M’ alright ma’am. I’ve had much worse.” Simon reassures you. He looks down to see you already gazing up at him. Even with your disheveled appearance he can't help but think how effortlessly beautiful you are.

"You don't need to call me ma'am," you chuckle and rub your damp eyes, smudging your makeup further. 

"What would you like me to call you?" he asks. He brushes away a stand of hair in front of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. 

"Don't know, what do I look like?" 

Simon takes a minute to ponder. He watches as the passing streetlights cast a fleeting light into the window of the backseat. The yellow beams illuminating across each rhinestone on your shimmering dress peeking out from underneath his jacket. Your diamond earrings and necklace frame your face, matching the rest of your glittering outfit. Simon thinks they are nothing compared to the sparkle in your big round eyes. Then he wonders when he becoming such a hopeless sap. He wonders if you will even remember this in the morning.

All that fuss and harsh words from you earlier now a distant memory as you lean against his side. You were wrapping around his arms in a vice. Legs curled up under you, one of your heels had fallen to the floor of the car. You look up at him expectantly still waiting for an answer. 

"You look like a princess,"

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Masterlist

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[lilybug-02]

Pain is a great motivator…

Part 26 || First || Previous || Next

—Full Series—

Meanwhile Toriel:

(Loud noises don't wake her up usually.)

Artist note: I’m so proud of this :))) I know it’s a lot of dialogue and reading, but dialogue is grueling work for me. I’m glad with the art and for the amount of pages I made in such a relatively short time span -w- page 5 was super fun to work on. A lot of blood, sweat, and hours here... :) The backgrounds were a big bore tbh, but I finished them! Yippie!

[the-cooler-king]

the mortifying ordeal of being fully perceived.. . I still haven't figured out how to talk about it and I'm realizing more every day I'm still pretty fucked up over what happened to me when I was 15

[simplyholl]

Happily Never After Pt. 1

Summary: A marriage proposal from Prince Loki is every princess's dream come true, except for yours.

Pairing: Asgard Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY. Loss of Virginity.

W/C: 3.4K

A/N: This will be two parts!

See My Masterlist Here

"Married to Prince Loki?!" You shriek. It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard. "Stop being dramatic, dear. You two are very close. Since Prince Thor is already promised, this is the best match we could secure. Your father and I thought you would be happy considering he is your friend, and not a stranger."

"We used to be close! That was ages ago! I loathe him, mother. This is unfair. I would rather marry a stranger." You protest, wiping your sweaty palms on your long gown as you pace the room. "Why do you hate him? We just visited them last week." She tries to reason with you.

"You said yourself he was your best friend. Do you not recall the tears you shed when your father forbid you from spending time with him unchaperoned?" She pours herself more tea, waiting for your reply. "Yes, well he was my best friend. He's a different person now. I barely know him." You look out of your window, the palace in clear view of your own estate.

Your father was king of a neighboring realm, when the ogres attacked, forcing your family to seek safety in Asgard. You were welcomed with open arms. Frigga and your mother became fast friends. Odin relied on your father's knowledge of the other realms' customs, so he became valuable to him. Frigga invited your mother for tea every day. She insisted your mother bring you along since she had two boys close to your age you could play with.

Thor was older, more focused on playing rough with the other boys. He never paid attention to you. Loki was only a year older than you. You often found him reading under a tree instead of playing. He didn't notice you at first until you insisted the older boys let you play. Volstagg accidentally knocked you to the ground.

When Loki heard you crying, he stood up for you even though Volstagg towered over all of you. He was an unusually large child. Loki brought you to his favorite hiding place. Deep in the woods behind the palace there was a treehouse. He explained that he often came there for solace. It was built for Odin thousands of years ago when he was a child.

Thor didn't like to play there because it was too far from the palace. He thought he would get in trouble. One evening, Loki lost track of time and fell asleep in the treehouse. When he was finally found, Frigga had the place cleaned up, so it wouldn't be dangerous. Ever since that day, you and Loki were inseparable. You used the treehouse as a secret lair for you two to spend time alone.

The other children didn't play with you. They only played with Loki because they were scared of Odin. You understood each other completely. You would make up stories and put on one person plays to share your creativity. You grew up together. It went from playing as children, to hiding out in the tree house after mandatory appearances at balls. You despised when your father wanted you to meet other royals. He would force you to dance with their sons. After two dances, you and Loki would slip away to your private place.

You would laugh about the cheesy things they said to impress you. You would never forget the first time your heart skipped a beat. You were laughing about the visiting prince who told you your gown was lovely. It was the most hideous shade of lime green the seamstress could find. You had requested it that way, so you could hide your beauty. You wiped tears of laughter from the corners of your eyes as you told Loki your reasoning for the unpleasing color.

"You should have known you couldn't hide beauty like yours even in that atrocious gown." His sentiment made you blush, your heart stopped beating as he held your gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds too long. You were sure he was going to kiss you. You closed your eyes in anticipation, feeling his face draw closer to yours. Then you were interrupted by Thor bellowing down below. Your father was looking for you.

You wouldn't be allowed out of his sight if he caught you out there. When you got home, you wrote everything down in your diary. How Loki had made you feel beautiful for the first time in your life, how you wished Thor and your father would have waited moments longer. The next day your father called you into his study, your diary in hand. Oh, how you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

"I forbid you to see him ever again." Your father's stern words instantly made you cry. Loki was everything to you. You couldn't lose him. You told him it was just a silly crush. That what you had written was just a fantasy you made up. He finally believed your lies, but now you couldn't be with him unless you were chaperoned.

Hundreds of years went by, you were as close as ever. You still found your way around the chaperones. You would sneak out at night meeting at the treehouse. You would stay up half the night together laughing as you did when you were children. He would have you back in your bed before sunrise. You always thought it was unfair that you had to be chaperoned, but Loki could do as he pleased.

Then came your first heartbreak. A visiting prince had met you at one of Frigga's balls. He immediately asked your father to court you. You were devastated. You didn't want to be courted. You were happy with your life. But your father couldn't wait to marry you off. But the more time you spent with the prince, the more you liked him. He had dark hair and blue eyes, sometimes you pretended he was Loki.

But he wasn't and there was your whole problem. No one would compare to Loki. But if you had to marry someone, at least the prince was nice. The prince would often find you with Loki going on strolls through the gardens, eating, and reading in silence. One evening, he visited your estate. He said he wanted to end this courtship. You couldn't think of anything you did wrong. He explained that he was certain your affection lied elsewhere, and he wanted to be the only man in his future bride's life. You didn't understand what he had meant, but you thanked him. You were free once again.

Then the latest scandal sheet was delivered by your maid. It mentioned how you and the prince were getting close. You rolled your eyes, thankful that was over. But when you reached the last paragraph, your whole world shattered. Prince Loki had been seen at the brothel three times this week. Not only that, but he had been caught with an unnamed maid in his mother's garden.

It wasn't uncommon for royalty to fuck around like whores, but this truly wounded you. You cried for a week after it came out. Your mother thought you were upset over the prince ending your courtship, so she explained there would be other princes. You didn't visit Loki for three months after the scandal sheet came out.

Another one hundred years passed, and you had grown used to Loki's womanizing. You were at the market, Loki carrying your basket filled with trinkets, winking at the unsuspecting maidens. He made note of the ones he wanted to bed later. You rolled your eyes, as you handed your coins to the shopkeeper, peeling the orange you just purchased.

"Really Loki, can you go one minute without finding four new lovers?" You joked. "Jealous?" He smirked. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous." "The only reason you are not overcome with jealousy is because you do not know what I am capable of carnally." The bite of orange you had just taken lodged down your throat causing you to choke. Loki smiled, pleased with himself.

"Of course, I wouldn't know that, or care to find out. You shouldn't speak of such things so loudly. What if someone heard you?" You looked around, your maid, Greta had her eyes on the ground pretending she wasn't listening. Loki walked over to her, dropping a few coins into her hand, and whispering to her. You watch as she goes to the next vender looking at the silks.

Loki grabs your arm, leading you behind a tent. "Aren't you curious? Your parents keep you in the dark, only for the bumbling fool you end up marrying to spill his seed in a matter of minutes." You would be like the other princesses, not knowing what to expect on your wedding night, if it wasn't for Loki. He had told you all about the act some hundred years ago, so you would know what to expect. You were thankful for that, at least.

But now, when he was looking at you like that, and speaking of such things, you wished you didn't know. "You won't experience pleasure with them. They just want to produce an heir, and once that's taken care of, he will get a mistress. I don't want that for you. I hope that you find a love match, but that is highly unlikely considering your father allows anyone with a title to court you."

You consider Loki's words as he leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Let me show you what you are missing. I'll make it good for you. You deserve to experience mind blowing sex at least once in your life." He was the devil himself; you were sure of it. He was so tempting. You knew he was experienced, and women threw themselves all over him everywhere you went. He had to be good at it.

"I - I'm not sure. I would be ruined if anyone found out. My father would kill you.” You whisper, just in case someone was listening. "That's not a problem, I would just marry you before your reputation took a hit." He smiles as if what he said wasn't crazy. "Loki, I couldn't ask you to do that. To be honest, I am frightened. Not of you, but of the act itself. It doesn't sound like it would be pleasurable. Oh, but it must be if every eligible maiden in the kingdom lets you have your way with them."

You continue your ranting until Loki grabs your hand. "I would be gentle with you. We could start slowly. We would only do what you are comfortable with." You agreed to meet him at the treehouse that night. When you're back in your chambers you call Greta in to question her.

"Greta, have you had sex before?" She gasps, looking everywhere but at you. "My lady, that is not appropriate." You sit on your bed, gesturing for her to sit beside you. "Oh, spare me, we have known each other since we were girls. So out with it." You fold your arms across your chest waiting for her to answer.

"Yes, there was one man." She answers, her cheeks turning red. "Greta! Who was it?" She smiles, "Bart, the baker's son. We had a lovely couple of months together, but then he married the butcher's daughter. You see, men are fickle creatures. They use you until they find someone else. So be warned, my lady, keep your heart out of it. Men can have sex without emotions, and us women, well we often times end up heartbroken."

Greta's words repeated in your head all afternoon. You had known Loki for centuries, so you didn't think he would hurt you. But you were tempted to turn around, go back to your chambers and pretend like none of this ever happened. Luckily, he was in the treehouse waiting for you, so you couldn't leave now.

"It has been brought to my attention that men will do this with anyone, so I know it will mean nothing to you. And apparently, it will mean everything to me. I just don't want to regret this." You confide in Loki. "My darling girl, this will mean everything to me too. You are far too precious to me for it to mean nothing. We don't have to do anything if that is what you wish."

"I think you are right. I deserve to feel pleasure, and I trust you. I'm just nervous." Loki cups your face in his hands, bringing himself closer to you. It was so similar to that night when you were teenagers, your stomach erupts in butterflies. You never imagined the cute, gangly boy you knew so long ago would grow into the devilishly handsome man before you.

He kisses you, and it is exactly how you had always imagined. It was as if no time had passed between the moment when he almost kissed you centuries ago and now. You felt exactly the same. When he finally breaks the kiss, you look at him with wide eyes. If just his kiss could make you feel like this, you were in trouble.

Loki sat you down on the old mat you used to read on as children. It had fresh linen on it. Loki must have put it on before your arrival. He pressed kisses to your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your exposed skin. He had you sit up so he could undo your dress, nimble fingers working quickly on your corset until all your clothing was sat aside. You were bare for the first time in front of a man, but you were not ashamed. You should have attempted to cover yourself, but when Loki looked at you like you were a priceless painting, you felt no need to.

Loki took his time kissing every part of you. He toyed with your nipples, and you felt yourself growing wet. When he lowered his head to take one between his lips, you finally understood why all those maidens would jump at his beck and call. He kissed his way down your stomach, nipping your upper thigh. He spread your legs apart, pleased with your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"May I?" He asks, pink tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. You aren't sure what he is asking, but he knows what he is doing, so you give your consent. His tongue envelops you, sliding from your slit to your most sensitive part. "Loki!" You shout, as he continues exploring you. His tongue flicks your clit as your hands weave through his messy locks.

You never imagined it would be like this. And you suppose if it wasn't for Loki, you would never know. He slips a long finger inside you as he continues licking you, He stretches you, placing another finger inside. You jolt at the intrusion, his fingers curling to caress your walls. You feel like you are about to explode.

"Loki, I feel so wonderful." You tell him. His lips suction around your clit, tugging while his fingers work their magic. Stars explode behind your eyes as your first orgasm rips through you. Loki waits until you finish writhing on his face before coming up for air. He wipes your arousal off his face with the back of his hand.

You think that has to be the most attractive thing you have ever seen. But you are proven wrong when Loki undresses. He has filled out since the last time you saw him shirtless, when you were swimming as teenagers. He drops his trousers, hard cock springing free. You gasp when you see the size of him. You were beyond thankful he told you about the differences between men and women so long ago. What a surprise this would be if he hadn't.

"You still have time to change your mind, love. Just say the word and I will stop." He stalks toward you, lowering himself to the mat. "Please do not stop." You say breathlessly. Loki chuckles, settling between your thighs. "This will hurt, but only for a moment. Tell me when you are ready for me to move."

Loki sinks into you, pressure and pain causing you to cry out. "I'm so sorry. I can't help it. It will feel better soon, I promise." You grit your teeth as Loki bottoms out. He stills inside you, waiting for you to give him permission to move. You take a minute, adjusting to his size, before you tell him you are alright.

Loki slowly removes himself before filling you completely again. After a few thrusts, it starts to feel good. "Faster, Loki, please." You beg, clawing at his back as he ravishes you. His hand comes down between your joined bodies, skilled fingers swirling against your clit. The feeling you had earlier comes back full force, another orgasm sending you soaring. Loki pulls out, finishing on the fresh linen on the mat. You lay there, breathing heavily, looking at Loki. He truly is beautiful. "Shall we go again?" He asks, his signature smirk returning.

Loki laid with you three more times before the sun rose. He walked you back to your estate, making sure you made it inside safely before walking back to the palace. The next day, you were excited to see Loki. You secretly hoped you would spend the day in the treehouse.

"Mary was looking for you." Fandral tells Loki, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, you can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." They laugh in unison, walking away as you round the corner. "Has someone finally caught your eye?" Fandral smiles. "Actually, I plan on asking the princess to marry me." Loki shocks Fandral who places a hand over his heart.

"Did you hear that, Greta?" You ask your maid, unwanted tears filling your eyes. "Yes, my lady." She answers. "Repeat what you heard please."

"Prince Loki said "You can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." She looks at you with pity. "That's what I heard too. Oh, Greta." You collapse into her arms, sobbing. "Let's go home, my lady. We mustn't let the prince see that he has hurt you."

From that moment on, things were very different between you and Loki. He demanded to know why you avoided him now and why you never had a kind word for him. You never answered because he knew what he had done. He just didn't know you heard him talking about you. That was five months ago. Now, Odin was ordering him to marry and they had chosen you of all people.

If this happened before you would be ecstatic. Now, it makes you sick thinking about being alone with him. You had no choice. Your father had been trying to marry you off for centuries, and you always got out of your courtships somehow. You suspected Loki had a hand in it. But now that he wanted to marry you, there was no getting out of it.

You were expected at the palace by noon tomorrow. You paced the floor so many times, your footprints were probably embedded into the floor. Then you had the perfect idea. You would run away.

The next day everyone awaited your arrival. Your mother and father sat with Frigga and Odin having tea while they waited. Thor patted Loki on the back. "Finally, brother. Everyone saw this coming. I am very happy for you." Loki brought his cup to his lips, when a timid knock on the door interrupted them. He jumps up, rushing to let you inside. Instead of you, he is greeted by Greta. "Forgive the intrusion, your highness. It's the princess she ran away." Greta hands Loki the letter you left.

She sniffles, worried about you. While he reads the note, your father and Odin start planning on sending knights to find you. Frigga comforts your mother. "What does it say?" Thor asks, peeking over Loki's shoulder.

Greta, I cannot marry that pompous ass. I would rather live amongst the pigs. Do not bother looking for me, because you will never find me. Tell mother and father I love them dearly. Thank you Greta, for everything. I wish I could have taken you with me. All my love.

"No need to create a search team, father. I will find her myself." Loki states, leaving the room.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @wolfsmom1 @loz-3 @kats72 @crimson25 @litaloni @zombiesnips-blog @gruftiela @mochie85 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @violethaze @lokidokieokie @buttercupcookies-blog @mjsthrillernp @chantsdemarins @lulubelle814 @anukulee @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @fandxmslxt69 @artemis-13 @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @kathren1sky-blog @javagirl328 @kcd15 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @soggylampshade0 @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mischief2sarawr @ozymdias @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @aoirohi @mushycore @marygoddessofmischief @queenshu @jasmine-pudding @kcd15 @jiyascepter

[rafeandonlyrafe]

little protector

words: 800

warnings: dad!rafe, soft!rafe, pregnancy cw

“daddy, cut that out right now!” your sons voice rings out, making rafe pull away from your mouth.

“what did you say little man?” rafe raises his eyebrows at your son, who is standing at the foot of your bed, hands on his hips and an exaggerated angry expression on his face.

“do not kiss my mommy!” felix argues, crawling onto the bed to push at rafes chest while you giggle, his little hands not doing a single thing.

“but she’s my wife.” rafe says, frowning when you pull felix onto your lap and press a kiss to his cheek.

“and she’s my mommy!” he argues right back. it’s a recent development, felix showing possessiveness over you. it started at the grocery store when a tall man helped reach something off the top shelf, only for felix to kick him in the shin. its only progressed since then.

“you’re gonna have to learn to share, fe.” rafe says with a pointed look, able to move closer now that felix is happy in your arms.

“oh shush, let him enjoy being an only child for a little bit longer.” you whisper, knowing felix only has about six more months until he’s going to have to be sharing you with a new baby brother or sister as well as rafe.

“but i want to kiss you.” rafe pouts as felix ducks his head to snuggle into your chest, little hands gripping at your shirt as rafe loops an arm around your shoulder.

“as soon as he’s asleep.” you stroke your sons back, leaning your head against rafes shoulder, who sneaks a kiss to the top of your head without felix seeing.

“can’t come soon enough.” rafe says, making sure to keep his voice low for the next part. “you are so sexy when you’re pregnant.”

you roll your eyes. you’re barely showing, which is why you decided to wait to tell felix, wanting to make sure everything went well before explaining that he’s about to have a little sibling and that they’re growing in his mamas tummy.

“mommy.” felix whines when he realizes you attention isn’t solely on him.

“what is it my love?” you ask, petting over his hair.

“can i sleep with you tonight?” he asks, blinking up at you with puppy eyes that are so hard for you to say no to.

“but you’ve got your big boy bed!” you remind him. “i can read you a story before you go to sleep though.” “no.” felix complaints, thrashing his body to show his disapproval, but you know its just because he’s tired, having already gotten him ready for bed until rafe distracted you with his kisses. “wanna sleep with you mommy!” “honey, this is mama and daddys bed.” rafe says gently. he never thought his son would give him a run for his money when it comes to parenting, but he severely underestimated the toddler years.

“are you going to kiss again?” felix crinkles up his nose in an expression that is far beyond his years.

rafe sighs, nuzzling into your hair. “i think when you gave birth you transferred all of your sassiness to him.” you let out a laugh, which only upsets felix more.

“fefe, i kiss your daddy all the time. but-” you continue before he can react, “i also give you lots of kisses. i love you both very very much.” “i love you too mama.” felix leans in, puckering his lips out. you accept and press a kiss before smattering more around his face, making him giggle.

“i love you too daddy.” felix says shyly, before holding his hands out for rafe to pull him onto his lap, making you smile. felix has never had an issue with showing rafe affection, it’s just recently come up with not liking to see it between you and rafe, even getting in between the two of you when you cuddle, or pulling your hands apart.

“i love you too felix.” rafe gives your son a kiss before pulling him into a hug, and you have to turn your head to wipe away tears, your hormones already being a little crazy from the baby growing in your tummy.

“can you both read me my bedtime story?” felix asks.

“of course baby.” rafe says as you slide out of the bed, accepting felix as he jumps into your arms for you to carry him. rafe pauses as he watches you, son in your arms, baby growing in your tummy, a glowing smile gracing your face. 

if you would have told rafe that this would be his life when he was a teenager, he would have spat in your face, but then you appeared, changed his life around and gave him a home and a family he never knew he needed.

“you coming?” you ask, felix’s head buried in your shoulder as you pause in the doorway.

“yeah.” rafe nods, having to blink back tears himself. “yeah, i’m coming.”

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk

[slushycoookie]

My Husband Has a Symbiote! Pt.1

Relationship: Symbiote! Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Content: Smut, definitely smut, p in v, oral sex, overstimulation, belly bulge, breeding kink in FULL display, fertility issues, Minors DNI!!

Summary: You find out Miguel has a symbiote for the most unexpected reason.

A/N: I kept thinking about Symbiote! Miguel and I just had to do it. If yall saw that recent concept art of him, he looks fucking huge. So as a birthday present to myself, I wrote this. Something to get us by while I continue writing the Valentine's Day one.

Miguel had a symbiote.

You knew the first day he got it. He was acting strange. More aggressive, energetic, and driven to his Spider Society cause. Also rough. You knew it when he pulled you in for a passionate goodbye kiss.

Plus, he was huge. You didn't think it was possible for your husband to get a bigger size in his suit. It oozed a foreign entity. He was rougher with his enemies. Causing them to be bruised and bloody at the end of the battle. Your Miguel showed some restraint. You weren't sure what this Miguel was.

Jess told you at the end of the day, confirming your suspicions. “He has a symbiote.”

“I figured…” You played with the necklace that had your wedding band between your fingers. “How did he get it?”

“No clue. One day, he was his grouchy self. Next day, he was extra grouchy.”

“What can we do? We have ways to get rid of it.”

Jess gave you a knowing look, “You know it's not easy with symbiotes. The wearer has to get rid of it on their own. Part of the-”

“Canon event. I know…” You sighed. You weren't going to get scared. Be afraid for your husband's life. You would take the knowledge you knew now in stride, even if that meant dealing with the fact that your partner had an alien on his body.

You didn't confront him about the symbiote. You saw no need to. Ben and Jess were informed. You wanted them to watch him so he wouldn't go too far. But you didn’t like how he was acting. He never took it out on you, but everyone else was a different story. It was hard for you to sleep, knowing your husband was in control of an alien.

One night, he came home late. You were still awake, watching his hulking form linger throughout the house. If you were normal, you'd be terrified.

“Miguel?” You called from the hallway. He turned towards you. His mask was still up. The eyes were sharp, filled with an unknown emotion you couldn't grasp.

“Our wife.” His voice was deep, rumbling to your core. Sharp teeth and a long tongue caught your eye. He inched to you like a predator. You backed up, mind playing out hundreds of backup plans you had once you found out about his new form. You jumped when hitting a wall. Cornered as Miguel hovered above you. His head trailed up and down in fascination. “So pretty. To eat.”

“I said we're not eating her.” Half of Miguel's face appeared, causing you to relax a little. He was still in there. To a certain extent.

“Not the type of eating we were talking about.” The symbiote sized you up even more. You didn't know how to take that. Miguel entirely took over, his face in view.

“I'm sorry. I'm still getting the hang of this.”

“Why did you do this?” You motioned to all of him, “For a man who doesn't play when it comes to canon events, you go ahead and play around with an alien.”

Miguel sucked his teeth, “I had a good reason, baby.” You blinked, waiting for him to come up with a good explanation. He shifted, his large form shaking the photos on the wall. You couldn't see any reason for him to form with a symbiote.

“I thought…it would help in our process of trying to have a baby.”

You froze. The extensive trials you and Miguel went through in trying for a baby were unsuccessful. He knew about your fertility issues. He knew before you got married. You didn’t expect him to go and fuse with a symbiote to boost the rate of being able to have a baby.

“The symbiote enhances my body.” Miguel explained, “Maybe we could try to use it to help us conceive.”

“Won’t the symbiotes…genes get in…?” You placed a hand on your stomach, not believing that you were considering it.

“No. It won’t affect any of our genes. It just increases the output.”

You scoffed, “So you would have super sperm?”

“In a way.” Miguel shrugged, hovering over you. You noticed how small you were compared to him. Your thighs squeezed together at the sight. “We should try it. See what happens.”

Common sense was starting to leave the window. Just having Miguel’s hulking frame above you, his eyes lowered in lust, was not helping. You were curious yourself. Would the symbiote help you finally be able to conceive? So your family can get bigger?

“You want me to have sex with the symbiote?”

Miguel chuckled, face down to your neck, taking in your delicate scent. “It’s still me. I promise.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders. His suit was sticky and you felt restraint when tried to remove your hands. You had no idea what you were doing. But it was your husband. You trusted him, knowing he wouldn’t harm you. So you had to take a leap. Literally. Miguel was so large you had to jump to even kiss him.

Your body flushed against his own as his tongue dove into your mouth. You were so caught up in kissing him, absorbed in how his hands groped and felt you, to realize you were in your bedroom.

You yelped when landing on the bed. Miguel's form hit the ceiling, standing at the edge. Waiting.

“Strip.” The voice was back again. Low, deep, and commanding. You blushed at how much that turned you on. Even with the monstrous teeth and all. You weren't wearing much besides a t-shirt and shorts, tossing them into darkness. Only remaining in your panties.

Miguel cupped himself, eyes trained on the prize between your legs. “All of it.”

You slid down your underwear at a slow pace. Even if you were about to get bred by a symbiote, you knew Miguel would still go crazy over your teasing. Pride swelled in your chest as his breathing became ragged. Every ounce of resistance he had in fucking you into the ground was waning. It wasn't until your panties were thrown aside that he pounced on you.

The bed creaked at the extra size. Miguel's symbiote used its long tongue over your neck, tasting the slight sweat. Your breasts, twirling at one nipple while his fingers pinched the other. Before going down to your stomach and over what he wanted most.

“We deserve to know how you taste…”

If you could squeeze your thighs together right now, you would. But your partner kept them separated. Spread wide enough for him to get a full view of your dripping sex. The tongue was back as it was his turn to tease you. Gliding along your inner thighs, not touching an inch of your cunt. You whined at how close he was. You tried to move your thighs to get him where you wanted but to no avail.

“Please…” You swallowed, heaving at the lack of touch. “Don’t tease…”

A guttural growl resonated in the room, which made you quiver even more. “You're so pretty when you beg.”

His tongue was heaven. Taking turns licking at your sensitive bud, thrusting in and out of your hole. Slurping sounds letting you know how much he loved tasting your cunt. You weren't sure if digging your hands into his covered head was a good idea so your hands fisted the pillows. Head back and unable to control your sounds of pleasure.

“Miguel…oh my…” You felt that familiar sensation rise in your stomach. Not stopping as he continued to please you. And you accepted it, climaxing for him. This was different from your normal Miguel. While he did make you see stars, this one was determined to make you see God. The way he didn’t stop after you came for him, eating your pussy like a starved man. When you tried to have the strength to pull away, his hand placed flat on your stomach. Overstimulation crept in as you shook under his hold. Thank goodness he pulled away, showing you his mouth glistening in the moonlight.

“We need you. Now.”

Your eyes widened when seeing his cock on full display. Miguel was big. Very big. Cock enlarged, veiny, pre cum beading around the tip. He was going to kill you if he put that thing inside.

“Where?” You gulped, pushing back your rising fear.

Miguel sat back against the headboard and settled you into his lap. Your back lay against his chest, staring at the gigantic cock. He grabbed a hold of your thighs, lifting and spreading you as wide as he could. You bit your lip as his dick slid against your sex, coating himself in your arousal. You couldn't do much in this position. Besides lie back and take it.

You shook as he entered you. Arms around his neck and digging into them as you sank down. Your mouth gaped, but nothing came out.

“Come on.” Miguel pushed, his own voice coming out a little tense. “You can take more…”

You clawed at his neck, sinking down further. It was to the point where there was a slight bulge in your belly. Which has never happened before. Once he bottomed out, he gave you time to adjust. You knew Miguel was being gentle, his arm muscles tense as he didn’t want to hurt you. You nodded when you were ready and he took control. He slid you all the way up, only leaving the tip of his cock inside before thrusting up into you.

He was massive. Easily filling you up while he pumped inside. Tears brimmed in your eyes. There was no coherent thought in your mind. With each intoxicating thrust, you couldn’t think. All you wanted was for him to keep going. To use you like this as long as he wanted.

Your eyes rolled back when his cock hit a perfect spot. Not feeling any of your lower body. “M-Mig…”

“We have you. Pretty little thing…” His face snuggled against your head, still maintaining the hard and sharp thrusts. Miguel’s suit made a tendril, slithering over to you to give more attention to your aching clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation. The familiar burning of your release was quickly rising again into something more. You struggled in Miguel’s hold, wanting to move away and escape your impending doom.

“Don’t…You’re gonna make me…” You whined, frantic breaths escaping.

“We want you to do it.”

There was no room for negotiation. Between the exhilarating way his cock stretched you and the advance on your clit, you were going to explode. You cried for your husband while soaking his cock with your fluids. Tightening around him for his seed. Aching to have him breed you. Miguel’s grunts turned into growls. Grating noises that shook the entire room. His thrusts were rough as now he was chasing his original goal. To pump his cum into you.

You didn’t move, watching your husband desperately paint you inside. There were one, two, three more thrusts before he let out a roar. His seed filled you up perfectly. It was so much that it was leaking out, even as Miguel tried to thrust more in. You didn't know what else to do if you didn’t get pregnant by this.

Once Miguel had his fill, he slipped out, placing you to the side. His face was back as he peppered your own with soft kisses.

“You okay?” You hummed, your throat a little sore. He held you close in a protective way, not wanting to let go for a moment. “Hopefully this works.”

“If it doesn’t…” You struggled to say with your raspy voice, “you’re getting rid of that thing.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

In the Wolf's Maw

Werewolf John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: mild dubcon, knotting, mating bonds, accidental mating, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding, dominance, protectiveness, possessive behavior, werewolf!Price, shifter!Price

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Requested by @glitterypirateduck for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Werewolf AU)

Walking home on Halloween night, you’re accosted by three strange men. From the dark emerges a stranger, but one that has been haunting your steps for months. He might be your savior, but there is a deeper hunger within him that needs to be satiated, and only you can satisfy it.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

Something walks with you amongst the trees.

It is always near—always close—but never enough for you to glimpse it between the towering bark.

When you first felt the strange presence, you believed it to be human. Your senses awakened in expectation of threatening intent, but now, with the passing of the months, you no longer believe it to be so.

Whether for good or ill, a human would have revealed themselves in some capacity. This must be animal. It has to be. Either curious or cautious but it clearly does not see you as a threat. It is always there though. A phantom. A figure. You've never seen who or what but you sense it.

"You should really take the main road. I don't understand why you insist on cutting through the forest."

"It's peaceful," you reply. "Gives me time to think."

Your friend arches an eyebrow. "You know the stories."

"Myths," you correct. "Not stories."

"Myths always carry a bit of truth."

There are wolves in the forest. But they live deeper, away from the human population. Wolf sightings are extremely rare, and those that claim to see them are often known for being terrible gossips and liars.

The myth that walks with them is that the wolves are not wolves at all.

They are cursed men. Shifters. Werewolves.

It's nonsense.

Scientifically impossible.

The wolves are only wolves. Maybe the one that watches you is one of these wolves?

Possible, but unlikely.

For all you know, you're being watched by a curious scurry of squirrels.

The myth is history drenched, from a time when people needed to explain natural phenomena they didn't understand. It is only stories.

Or so you believed.

It's late in October. Halloween night.

You stayed far too late at the local library, browsing shelves and losing track of time until the librarian, Mrs. Dean, came scouting for you in the basement archive. Down there, you went searching for what hadn't been digitized, seeking stories about these wolves.

Most of what you uncovered were old newspaper articles of missing women and mauled men in the forest. The details were few and relatively unhelpful, but like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe, there was one consistency in all of them.

The myth, mentioned at the end of every article. Cursed men that shift into wolves. Men in the skin of a predator that hunt women and slaughter their menfolk. You'd think the town had a serial killer, but the articles go back far enough in time that it simply couldn't be the case. Many of the articles cite historical records and reports of the same thing happening over a hundred years ago.

It plagues you on your walk home.

Staying late at the library and taking the path through the forest home takes you away from the roaming families and the angsty teens ready to terrorize anyone who steps in their path. The streets are alive with movement, but you need to collect your thoughts, to consider what you've found and figure out where to look next.

A gentle wind brings a chill with it, sneaking underneath your coat to tease skin. Shivering, you bundle up tighter, the cold bite of air adding a kick to your step. You feel eyes on you, but not your anonymous phantom.

These eyes feel cruel. Malicious.

"What's this?"

Three tall figures in masks emerge from the dark. Like a whisper of wind they appear, skulking toward you, fanning out in a half-moon directly in front of you.

"Cute thing like you shouldn't be out here all on your own." The voice is masculine. Deep. Not one of the local teens. This is someone much older. "There are...wolves about."

The trio saunters forward, the two on the ends splintering off from the man in the middle, slowly boxing you in. There is nowhere to go but behind. Turning tail and running means a chase. You scent their excitement. That is what they're itching for.

"I'm fine. Thank you for the concern," you reply in the blandest voice you can muster.

Don't show fear.

"Need an escort?"

He's not taking the hint, but what did you expect?

Missing women. Dead men.

"No. Thank you."

Squaring your shoulders, you charge forward, intent on walking through the two on the right. In sync, they close ranks, blocking your path.

"Sure about that?"

"We insist."

Your lips part. "I'm—"

A low growl reaches your ears. It is laced with warning, and a sudden surge of energy rushes up to greet you, wrapping around and between your limbs like invisible rope. You know this sensation. It is familiar and unwaveringly comforting.

The two men standing in front of you glance over your shoulder. From behind their masks, their eyes widen with abject terror. Their shoulders tighten with tension, and they freeze like a deer sensing danger.

The growl comes again, and that sensation bleeds into you further, becoming more than just comfort.

It is...ownership.

Possession.

"What the fuck is that?" whispers one of the men.

They're not focused on you anymore. They're looking beyond you. Behind.

"Fucking run, mate. Run!"

The three men stumble backward, becoming small and insignificant before your very eyes. They shove at each other, not for encouragement, but for distraction. If one should fall, it might distract whatever it is that lurks behind you.

At first, you do not turn. You wait for the pounce—for the growl. But there is nothing. Only silence. Yet those invisible ropes still cling to your body. They still hold tight.

With a baffling sense of calm, you slowly swivel.

There is a wolf. Not a normal one you might see in a wilderness documentary. This one is large, nearly as tall as you on all fours. Its fur is a deep brown. It watches you intently, gaze fixated on nothing else. Even as you take a step away, the creature does not waiver.

It's unnerving, at least, it should be. Yet that comforting familiarity shuts out everything else. It chases away fear and doubt. You know that the natural instinct of any animal facing down a larger predator is survival, but there is nothing that beats within your body that suggests your fight or flight response is on.

It is eerily peaceful. Serene even.

If this sensation did not encompass you as completely as it did, you suspect that you'd be like the trio. Afraid. Terrified.

But just because your sense has left you, that doesn't mean your brain has. It is loud and it is talking.

Do not turn your back. Do not break eye contact. Make yourself big. Make noise. Move backward slowly.

You stretch your arms out wide, puffing your chest, attempting to make yourself bigger. Not like you could ever compare to this beast. You step back, breathe in, preparing a yell.

But just as you do, the wolf shifts. It's not showing its fangs or quickening its haunches. It only watches on, alert and curious. Not aggressive.

There is no submission, though. The wolf does not seem intent on simply walking away. That sensation hugging your body brightens, and a flare of possession surges through you, stiffening your muscles as if you've been turned to stone.

The wolf shifts again. Shakes. Takes a step toward you.

As it does, you hear bones pop and snap. Beneath the wolf, its legs twist and bend beneath it, staggering its forward progress. Its nostrils flare and then the neck snaps as if lurched to the side by some invisible force.

"What the fuck," you mutter, that sense of calm slipping.

The connection is still there, but it's slightly weaker than before. A drop of fear creeps in, and the need to escape starts to bloom in your chest. It widens, that familiarity leaking away to bleed into the earth as the broken wolf shakes and twists some more.

It is just a mass of fur and tangled limbs.

And then, from the pile, the fur splits open, and a human arm emergers, the fingers reaching out, tearing at the dirt.

You need to go, to fucking run.

The phantom threads release you, and your feet find their purchase. You launch yourself backward and away, sprinting as fast as you can. The cold, October air bites at your cheeks. Everything burns.

You know this is just adrenaline. It will fade and you will crash.

Boot slipping on dead leaves, you go stumbling forward, the ground coming up fast. You're jerked to a stop. Halted. Face inches away from smashing into a rock. Glancing down your body, you see...arms. Human arms. Wrapped around your torso. They are muscular and marked with protruding veins, with a dusting of hair along the forearms.

Slowly, you are lifted upward and onto your feet, but the arms remain. Warmth greets you, pressing into your back to chase away the October chill. With it comes a honey-laced scent. It is sweet and lulling, seeping into your pores to flood your senses. This is like before—the awareness of familiarity and possession, but there is a difference in its tone. Beneath it is a wicked teasing, a promise of dominance and pleasure. Like the invisible ropes, it overpowers, wrapping around you to hold you like a blanket.

It is enticing. A pull that calls to you. Something within you reverberates its call, answering back.

The arms around you tighten until you're firmly pressed against the man holding you. That is who it is. Not what. The wolf is gone. This is solid flesh.

This is myth made life.

The lulling sensation settles in, calling to you, telling you to submit.

It would be so easy. So simple.

No.

You push at the man's arms, twisting in an attempt to break free. But your savior turned captor holds firm, allowing nothing.

"Let me go."

"No."

The no is a rumble deep in his chest. It vibrates through the pull and into your bones. This is a command, and your body promptly responds, coiling tight.

Glancing over your shoulder, you lock gazes with the man holding you in his arms. You're staring at the face of a man. He is handsome. Older. His skin is lightly coated in sweat and dirt. But the eyes. They are wolf eyes. Completely animal. The rest of him is completely bare. No clothing in sight, and yet he doesn’t appear cold.

His chest heaves slightly, nostrils flaring. This man burst forth from the wolf, but there is still a beastly quality that sings along the pull. This man is somewhere between, lingering between the wolf and humanity.

How you know this isn't entirely clear. There is a link somewhere. A tether. His closeness only makes the awareness grow in strength. Confusion and concern twist together even as the comforting familiarity attempts to soothe your nerves.

"Please," you murmur, not entirely understanding yourself what it is you're trying to say.

The man only sighs. His head dips, and then he inhales deeply as if—

Is he…scenting you?

"What are—"

The question disappears from your lips. Taken from your mouth. The stranger nuzzles your neck, inhaling deeper. One hand descends as the other rises. Along the pull you feel heat, it floods outward from him and into you, going straight to your pussy.

The descending hand slides between your legs, cupping your sex. The other roams up your stomach to your chest, gently learning the curve of a breast through your sweater.

He groans low, and that too reverberates within you. A tingling blooms in your core. There is your own desire, but beside it is another. His.

The stranger's hand slides further between your legs. Back and forth, the pressure building so suddenly and intensely that your pussy clenches.

He inhales again. Growls. "Mine."

That one word is like a slap to the face and a comforting caress. Along the pull, it is a dominating serenity. Outwardly, your freedom rebels, pushing against the idea.

As if sensing the unease, his hold on you releases, but only for a moment. He lifts you effortlessly into his arms, clutching you tightly, strutting forward with purpose in every step. You sense it through the pull, this taut string that has woven its way inside.

"Let me go," you murmur, pressing against his firm chest.

Be calm.

The command comes not from his own throat, but from within your head. It is his voice. Clear and resonate. The moment your brain processes it, all your limbs soften like jelly.

Are you trapped? Have you been possessed?

A part of you firmly clings to this idea while the other part remains completely calm as if this is supposed to happen.

He walks deeper into the forest, and time stretches, the stars through the canopy your only light. The trees thicken, and then the stranger comes to a stop before a group of jagged rocks that juts upward from the ground.

Within the rock, you spy darkness.

An opening. An entrance.

Instinct flares, and the need to escape comes rushing back. Be calm, he says again.

This time, there is no instantaneous softening. Along the pull, something tightens, as if adjusting a belt buckle. A wildness stirs, and the earlier arousal returns, tinged with desperation. Eagerness settles in your chest, but it feels more like his emotions than yours.

The man walks toward the rock. He tilts forward, stepping inside, submerging the two of you in utter darkness. Yet, you do not feel frightened. Each step of his is confident and steady, and as the two of you steadily move forward, a soft white glow begins to appear. It is faint at first. Soft.

Another opening emerges, and before you is an antechamber. In the middle of the rock-laden room is a massive slab of solid, black stone. It stands at waist level, the surface worn from age. Above it is an opening in the cave ceiling. From it, moonlight falls upon the rock slab. An acrid odor fills your nostrils. A brief brush of wind slides against your cheek. Something magical and old stirs. Something primal.

He stops at the rock slab, and then gently brings you down to your feet. Solid ground is comforting. Stable and strong.

The wolf eyes stare back at you. A fire swirls within them. As your gazes’ lock, memory surges down the pull. That familiar feeling returns, and with it, memories of you.

He is the one who has walked with you amongst the trees. He is the one who has been the presence at your back. Keeping you safe. Protected. A sense of duty follows the memory along with a flare of purpose. At the end is dominance and possession. It all slithers around the pull until you feel it in every part of you down to the tips of your fingers.

Maybe all those missing women aren’t missing at all. Maybe they went willingly. Maybe they had wolfish protectors of their own.

You are at ease, your limbs responding of their own accord. You place your hand on his chest, right over his heart. Its beat is strong beneath your palm. He places his hand over yours, gently grasping it. Stepping forward, his head dips, forehead pressing to yours with an intimacy that somehow feels…normal. Like you've known it all your life.

Along the tether, you taste a name.

John.

His name is John.

"John," you breathe, and his hand upon yours tightens.

The distance closes, a radiating heat bursting within your chest as John’s other hand falls upon your hip. It flows outward, warming you down to your toes and into your fingers. John's lips find yours, and it is perfectly blissful. This stranger is not unknown to you. Your soul sings with longing and want.

There is a connection here. Why not seek it?

You return the kiss, grasping the back of his neck, moving in to consume just as he does. John's answer is a deep growl, one that vibrates in his chest. A sharp spike of arousal shoots through the tether, slamming into you at full force.

You gasp. Draw back.

John is partially transformed, fingers morphing into claws. With a groan that is more animal than human, John tugs at your clothes. They surrender under his touch, like a knife through softened bread. There is no ceremony to it. No ritual. You are laid bare before this man. At his mercy. The chilly October air rushes in and then immediately departs, John's body heat chasing it away almost the moment it arrives.

His hands are on your waist, lifting you, planting you atop the stone slab. You want to say something—anything, but all words escape your head and tongue as John spreads your legs wide and places his mouth on your pussy. Sudden surprise becomes languid pleasure.

He is ravenous. Hungry. John leaves no part of you untasted. Your moans echo in the small cave, filling the space with your ecstasy. His tongue delves inside, and then languidly slides upward to swirl and tease your clit. Everything in you tenses, anticipating release.

John's arms hook over your legs, hands splayed wide, gripping your thighs, pulling you closer against his mouth. With your pleasure comes his, rolling across the link in waves. It comes in flashes of images. You glimpse yourself as he sees you, not only in this moment, but in all the moments he's watched you.

Between the desire and need is a hint of loneliness, of an unfilled connection that burrows in his chest and eats away at his heart. This current moment isn't what he intended, but it has all unraveled.

Your grasp for him, fingers threading through his hair, tugging hard as your orgasm burns bright behind your eyelids.

Look at me, comes the command.

You do, and your gazes lock. His nails are still elongated, still claw-like. One pointed tip pierces your skin just as your orgasm bursts. He growls low.

Mine.

The voice. His voice.

Mine.

A sense of ownership and dominance enters your consciousness. You feel as if you're incomplete. only a portion of yourself, yet the end is near. It will all end, and you will be fulfilled.

In the hazy aftermath of your orgasm John's tongue traces up the beads of blooming blood. You shiver, blinking to clear away some of the euphoria. John stands between your legs. His hands are still on your thighs, keeping them wide. In full view is his erect cock. There is a slight curve to it, and at the base is a swollen bulge. John squeezes one thigh and your gaze returns to his face. They are still all wolf.

When the wolf fades, what color might they be? The question pops into your head and then quickly fades. His wolfish features are starting to bleed in again. Nose elongating, fur returning, claws lengthening.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his voice a tangled snarl.

With a quickness that startles you, John flips you onto your stomach. His hands are everywhere, spreading you wider. You briefly glimpse him between your legs before he lifts himself up and onto the stone slab, settling behind you. Above you, one half-transformed hand presses against the stone just next to your head. His other finds rest against your waist.

While your own body buzzes with anticipation, you sense an excitement along the tether. John's excitement. Of the act itself but also of a sense of peace.

The head of his cock presses at your entrance. You exhale, relaxing your muscles, welcoming him in. You're wet, and your pussy accepts him with only the slightest resistance. He holds himself there for a moment, simply breathing. Like this, you feel entirely full. It's a snug fit, but it feels amazing, like his body was made for yours and yours for his.

Mine.

"Yours."

At your admission, John thrusts in earnest. There is nothing slow and sensual about his movements. It is only primal need and utter hunger. His arm hooks under your stomach, and then you're pressed firmly into the rock by his body. You are trapped beneath him, completely at John's mercy.

Each stroke is perfect. Cleansing.

You pant beneath him, almost in time with his own needy groans. The swell at the base of his cock slaps your pussy with each thrust. It doesn't seek entrance, but deep down, you know it will, but for what purpose is unclear.

John's movements become sharper. More intense. His panting increases, and you feel his mouth at your throat. There is a soft press of his lips, then a gentle tease of his tongue. You cannot see him, but you feel the transformation above you.

John is no longer human as his maw opens wide and holds your throat in it as he ruts. His cock swells in your pussy, stretching. The swell at the base prods, and with a final thrust, it pops in. John holds there, growling. His sharpened teeth pierce your skin. You feel the little rivers of blood trail down your throat. With the bite comes understanding. That tether becomes a solid, unbreakable thing.

Mine. She is mine.

Forever mine.

Mate.

Memories and emotions crash into your skull. You see all of John for who and what he is. A wolf. A shifter. The alpha of his pack.

Within your pussy, you feel a flood of heat. Now you know what the knot is for. His pleasure becomes yours, and you shiver, another orgasm creeping up suddenly and without warning. You clench down on his cock and on his knot. His answer is a pleased growl.

Ever so slowly, the wolf’s massive maw releases your throat. The transformed paw above your head disappears, followed by the weight of him. His cock and knot remain where they are. You feel him shiver. Hear a cracking of bone. You remain perfectly still until the ragged breathing of an animal becomes that of a human.

You turn just enough to glance over your shoulder. Behind you is John. The man, not the wolf. There are no sharp claws. No pointed teeth. The tips of his fingers brush over your skin, becoming full hands that gently caress. There is no harshness. His head tilts up, and for the first time, you're seeing him as he truly is.

Blue eyes. John has blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, exhaling deeply, a nervous flutter to his lashes.

"You're still inside me," you reply softly.

He glances down and groans. "Fucking hell. Forgot about that." He flushes slightly. "It'll be a minute."

"A minute?"

He grimaces. "The knot. Still swollen. It'll hurt you if I pull out now."

"Oh."

There is a stretch of silence. John sighs, his hands gentle tapping a rhythm against your ass. "This is...awkward,” he murmurs.

"Is it?" you ask, arching a single eyebrow.

"John," he says sheepishly, extending his hand in introduction.

"I know your name. I heard it through the—"

"The bond," he finishes. "I know." He drops his hand, and places it on your lower back. Using the position, John tests the knot. You wince. It doesn’t want to budge. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for...this."

"It's fine,” you reply, because it is.

You feel light. Content. This man is a complete stranger and yet not. Between you is the bond. There is strength in it, and a comforting embrace that you’ve always wanted but have never found.

"It's not." He sighs. "It's not how I wanted to do this," he mutters. Gripping your hips, John tests the knot. There is resistance but it’s significantly less than before. "Relax your muscles," he says softly.

You inhale, and on the exhale, John withdraws. You whimper from the brief flare of resistance but it isn't painful.

“I forget myself when I’m changed. You were threatened, and I couldn’t resist the impulse to protect you. For the wolf, that meant stealing you away. Completing the bond. But it’s not an excuse.”

You draw your knees up, suddenly realizing how exposed you are.

“You didn’t harm me. Except—”

You reach up and touch your throat. There is no blood or puncture wounds. Just a couple raised bumps that weren’t there before.

“What is this place?” you ask, glancing around.

John’s gaze scans the room, and then returns to you. “A ceremonial space. It’s been here for thousands of years. The wolf brought you here because it knew it would be safe.” He licks his lips in agitation, and then runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at them in irritation. “Could we begin again? Start over?”

“What did you have in mind?”

He places both hands on the stone slab, leaning in close. “I’ll…take you home.” His muscles bunch with tension when he says it. Along the bond, you sense the wolf’s firm refusal of the idea. “I’ll come to you during the day. We can talk.”

You scoot down the rock slab, moving closer to him. The middle of John’s brow furrows with confusion as he watches you. As you cozy up to him, you sense his calm—the relaxing of his muscles. John’s head dips, nostrils flaring slightly as his eyelids close in pleasure.

“My scent is all over you,” he purrs.

A mix of deep desire and contentment wraps you up in its embrace.

“How do you plan on taking me home? You did shred all my clothes.”

John chuckles. “Discreetly.”

taglist:

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[evermore-fashion]

Did I make a mistake?

As you're all well aware of I said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr thinking my decision was final. However after reading all your wonderful messages I started to have doubts about my decision. So for the last few weeks I've been trying to pinpoint why I thought I had fallen out of love with high end fashion as well as Tumblr itself and the answer has been in front of my face for the best part of four years. A broken down friendship that has been plaguing my mental health… until recently and I'm going to finally explain why. I had a best friend for the best part of 15 years that went downhill both slowly and unexpectedly. We met on a forum back in 2005 and hit it off instantly. We then met up and went on various holidays, attended concerts together, did mini weekend breaks away and got to know each other's families really well. More importantly they were the only person in my life who knew about this blog and shared my love for high end fashion. Like most friendships though it had its ups and downs but no matter what we always gravitated back towards one another, until March 2020. A week or so before COVID and lockdown took hold of our lives they told me they had met someone. I was genuinely happy for them, except for the fact they had let slip that I was the last person to know. This broke my heart and their trust as they continued to let slip more details that indicated that I was being pushed out in favour of a new crowd (aka university friends who they had told me they disliked a few months beforehand) alongside their new partner. They stayed with their partner on and off throughout COVID and I was either pushed out the door or let back in depending on their relationship status. The relationship came to an end for good towards the end of 2022 and as always I was let back into their life with plans for 2023 being made. However I held back knowing the hurt it would cause me if things suddenly changed again. This was also my breaking point with them as I wanted to protect my heart from anymore hurt, and I believe this is where my love for creativity began to faulter. Whilst I found my love for gaming I felt this mental block around Evermore-Fashion and Evermore-Grimoire which I thought was down to my passions changing. I was clearly wrong. The friendship was up and down for another six months, until last summer. They had got back in contact with me despite the fact they had started acting cold towards me which manifested in a crap Christmas and Birthday. Yet I was still willing to hear their side of the story, but it never came as they ghosted me and I haven't spoken to them since which hasn't been fun to deal with both mentally and emotionally. Although I now fully believe this is what was killing my spirit and everything I had loved for so long. Anyway fast forward to January 2024, I've said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr when lo and behold I come across a social media post that changed everything. The ex friend had written something personal that contradicted everything they had told me (over their relationship break up) which not only angered me but it lit a fire under my butt to stop stewing in the "what ifs?" as well as holding on to a small bit of hope that they'd finally apologise for treating me like a piece of shit on the back of their shoe for so long. Not only that but I started to miss why I enjoyed being online in the first place. I checked out Vogue to see what was occurring during Paris Fashion Week and I yearned to share the Spring 2024 Couture collections on Tumblr (even though I still think it's still a toxic cesspit). Yes I could easily start this up on Wordpress or Instagram but let's face it, Tumblr is still the easiest place to start blogging creatively. So here I am. The fog surrounding my love for fashion has lifted alongside the mental and emotional baggage I've been holding on to for far too long. There's just one thing I'm still wondering though… do you guys forgive me (as I feel like I've messed you all around ) and is it okay to come back? 🥹

[feefivefoe]

I haven't really touched on the other two main batboys much. So this blurb will be Damian focused.

Again, I don't know much DC stuff, so it's gonna be a long while before anything with Barbara, Stephanie, Cassandra, or Duke is mentioned. If they ever are :(

But! For the baby Wayne, he also doesn't know reader exists for a few years after he joins the family, though it isn't his fault. How could he know about somebody who his father and siblings never mention?

It takes Jason's eventual blowup at Bruce for him to start clueing in that there's another member of the family that hasn't been around for years. He's a little curious, but if they aren't worth remembering, then what's the point of looking into it? Though he does wonder why Todd and only Todd seems to care so much.

Jason settles down quickly after the argument, not bringing up the mystery sibling again. Now Damian is suspicious. That brother isn't the type to let something go after just being so riled up over it. It's difficult to get any proper snooping done, given how all of them are trained to recognize when they're being watched. But having been raised as an assassin first gives him the slightest edge, as does his smaller stature.

His pride won't let him just come out and ask, but that's just as well. At this point, Jason sees the rest of the family as something else he needs to protect reader from, so he likely wouldn't tell Damian anything.

With weeks of subtle stalking leads Damian to an address. A run down apartment complex in the slums of Gotham, barely holding itself together. And Red Hood, slipping in through the third story window. Unlike his listed location on their communication devices, which places him across the city.

The next chance he gets, he confronts his brother, using the address as leverage. He can spill, or he gives it to their father, along with Jason's suspicious activity. Then he can explain to Batman why he was so far from where he was meant to be, putting anybody in that side of town in jeopardy of missing out on the help that Batman assumed would be coming soon, in the form of Red Hood.

As he knew, a sibling. A biological sibling. It's a bit of a surprise at first, but he disregards it. What a letdown. Bruce Wayne had another child, and this one gave up their legacy because they didn't have the attention they wanted. No wonder his father and Grayson didn't pay them any mind, they weren't worth it.

But then more thoughts start creeping in. A family member, to whom it wouldn't matter what he had done before arriving as a brother and son.

It wouldn't matter that he had been born and raised an assassin. This sibling had yet to be tainted by anything involving the League, or Batman's swarm of enemies. Who had yet to see just how diabolical Gotham could truly be, and wouldn't yet see him as part of it.

His one chance to not be an Al-Ghuul, not be Robin. Just Damian.

He isn't ashamed of his heritage by any means. And if he wanted to, he could find that type of companion in his school peers.

But a sibling? Somebody he shares half of his heritage with?

...Well, maybe Todd had an idea with some merit just this one time...

[cutielando]

conflict of interest | l.n.

synopsis: requested by anon: i recently saw a lando fanfic where the reader was a famous football player’s daughter and she was besties with maguis ex bf (joao another football player) but the story line was that she’d gone to a gp lando grew an interest in her but she rejected/dissed him because of the rumors of him and magui and i was wondering is you could do something like that!

warnings!!: a little hate towards magui (i have nothing against her and her relationship with lando in any way !!!! but it was necessary for the story to be spicier), jerk!joao (for like a split second)

my masterlist

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you got invited to attend a Formula 1 race weekend.

You knew nothing about the sport or how it worked, the only thing discussed in your household being football and your father’s career. Day in and day out, the only thing that surrounded you was football.

Even though your father had always said that he didn’t want to pressure you into liking or practicing football, he secretly wanted you to follow in his footsteps.

Imagine his internal disappointment he felt when you told him you wanted to become a model. He, of course, supported you and helped you in every way that he could have ever thought of, instead shifting his entire focus regarding football on your best friend, João. 

You and João have known each other ever since you were little children, growing up in the same neighborhood and given that he had always looked up to your father and his career. Growing up, whenever you would hang out with João at your house, him and your father never missed out on the opportunity for some early-on training and strategy talks.

That didn’t stop even when João actually became a football player. Your father and him sometimes talked more than you guys did, if you were being honest.

But you understood the shared passion that made their connection so deep.

Even with your modeling, you were keen on following your best friend’s games, always finding time and watching it wherever you were around the world. But that was not the only sport that you followed.

Formula 1 had become your guilty pleasure ever since you did a photoshoot with Charles Leclerc for a jewelry brand in Monaco. You became very good friends with him and his girlfriend, Alexandra, whom you talked to regularly.

To nobody’s surprise, a couple of weeks after the photoshoot was published, you received a formal invitation from Ferrari to the race weekend at Silverstone. The most exciting thing in your life, by far, was getting the opportunity to experience the true feeling of the race weekend from the garages.

Figuring you shouldn’t go alone, you took João with you. 

“Why do you want me to come, again?” he asked while on the place, not particularly excited to attend an event in which he didn’t really have interest in or knowledge of.

“Because you love me and I didn’t want to go to the UK by myself” you had replied, which was enough for the footballer.

After you had checked into the hotel and made your way to the track for the qualifying session of the weekend, you were amazed by the multitude of people screaming all around the paddock and reporters taking dozens of pictures of you and João.

An interviewer motioned you over for a quick interview, prompting you to halt your walk towards the garage.

“Y/N, such a nice surprise seeing you here. Not really the kind of sport we’re used to seeing you attend, is it?” the woman asked, making you smile and laugh

“I suppose not, haha. I’ve been a huge F1 fan for a while now but my schedule has made it impossible for me to attend an actual race up until now” you explained, making the woman nod.

“And who are you the guest of today?” she continued.

“Ferrari. I did a photoshoot with Charles in Monaco a couple of weeks back and we because friends, so I’m guessing he talked the Ferrari team into inviting little old me to Silverstone”

“We saw you came with João Felix, is he your partner? What can you tell us?” 

You laughed, hearing João snort from behind you.

“No, far from it. We’re best friends, we’ve known each other since we were little kids, but there is nothing else going on between us”

You answered a couple more questions before deciding it was getting late and you would miss qualifying if you spent anymore time with the woman.

João and you made small talk as you walked towards the garage, seeing Charles talking to a guy in papaya.

“Hi Charles” you greeted him once you were within earshot, the Monégasque immediately hugging you and João.

“Y/N, João, I’m so glad you could make it. This is Lando, he drives for McLaren. Lando, this is Y/N, a model and very good friend and João Felix” Charles introduced you, making you smile at the curly haired man.

Making eye contact with Lando had been one of the most intense feeling you had experienced in a long time. The intensity of his gaze and the way his eyes moved over your body had your senses tingling.

“It’s very nice to meet you” he said, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

You almost blushed, but a scoff from your right made you snap out of your happy bubble. João was glaring daggers into Lando’s head, which made you furrow your eyebrows as you looked at him.

He shook his head and mouthed later, making you nod.

“Well, we have to get in the cars, but I hope you have a great time” Charles said, saluting you two before departing with Lando, who smiled and winked at you as he walked back to his garage.

“No” João demanded once he saw the way your eyes were following Lando as he disappeared into his garage, giving you one last look before he was out of sight.

“I didn’t do anything” you defended yourself, scoffing once you saw the distaste with which João was looking at you. “What the hell is your problem? You don’t even know the guy and you’re acting like he killed someone”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t have to know what he’s like to know that he’s an idiot. Do you not read the news?” he asked, at which you shook your head. 

You didn’t really have the time nor the desire to read tabloids, knowing what kind of articles they tend to write.

“You know I don’t believe in anything the media writes” you explained, rolling your eyes.

“Well, I believe what videos say. And he’s been seen with Magui” your eyes widened at the mention of his ex-girlfriend.

The mere thought of Magui being in a relationship with anyone made you sick to your stomach, especially after what happened with João.

“Oh” was all you could say, and the conversation ended there.

You couldn’t lie and say that the new information didn’t disappoint you. Wanting to see it with your own eyes, you decided to look it up on the internet and, fair enough, there were videos and pictures of Lando and Magui driving around Monaco.

While driving around didn’t really mean anything, you felt it like a punch to your gut. Every single time you would become slightly interested in someone, something had to come in between.

Shaking the thoughts from your head and deciding you would not speak to Lando for the remainder of the weekend, you enjoyed qualifying to the most, the feeling of watching firsthand what was happening was unlike any football game you had ever attended.

It was something special.

After you had arrived back at the hotel and were left alone once João decided to hit the city, you decided on having a quiet night in with some room service and a movie. Settling into the comfy bed, you had barely put on the movie when you heard your phone go off.

Looking at the notification, your heart starts racing when you see it was a text from Lando.

lando

hi there

is this y/n?

y/n

yes?

how did you get my number?

lando

charles gave it to me😅

y/n

hahhaa lol

did you need something?

lando

yes, actually

i think we both felt something earlier today

when we were introduced

and i was wondering if you wanted to go out?

y/n

ummm

hahaha

i don't think that's a good idea

lando

why not?

did i misread the situation completely?

i tend to do that sometimes

y/n

you didn't misread anything

i felt something as well

but i don't think your girlfriend would agree to you asking me out

or even talking to me right now

lando

girlfriend?

i don't know who you're talking about, i'm not dating anyone

y/n

lando

let's not pretend people don't follow the news

you've found magui, and i wish you both happiness if you're together, but given what happened with her and joao, who's my best friend, i don't even think we should be speaking right now

lando

woah, woah, woah

slow your horses

i don't know what news you've been reading

but i'm not dating magui

she's simply a friend, we have the same friend group but that's it

i know about the situation with joao and i would never associate myself with someone like that

does joao think i'm with her?

y/n

yeah

he's the one who told me to be careful

cause he saw the photos and video and shit

lando

i can assure you

i'm not dating her and i don't have the intention to date her

y/n

i don't know

lando

please, just think about it for some time

you don't have to give me an answer right now

y/n

okay

i'll think about it and let you know

lando

thank you, thank you, thank you

Throwing your phone on the bed as far away as possible, you let your mind wonder. Was Lando telling the truth? Was he really not dating Magui?

João had seemed so sure that they were together, so sure that she had just moved on to the next celeb and sure that Lando had just fallen for it. That’s why he had been so hostile towards him and so against you even talking to him.

But you couldn’t deny the butterflies that you felt when you talked to him just now, how excited the mere thought of being with made you. You couldn’t ignore it, and frankly, you didn’t want to ignore the feeling.

You hadn’t realized how long you had been stuck in your own thoughts, not until you heard the hotel room door open and João stepped into the room.

“What were you thinking about? You were lost in thought” he said, shrugging off his jacket and falling backwards on the bed beside you.

“You’re gonna hate me if I tell you” you said, playing with your fingers.

He raised his head at that, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Hate you? I could never hate you, no matter what you would do” 

You sighed, knowing he was right. There was no way he would ever hate you, he physically couldn’t think badly of you.

But this would test that idea pretty well.

“I talked to Lando tonight” you said, not even looking at him but knowing how he was glaring at you.

“I told you to stay away from him and her” the venom dripping from his tone at the thought of Lando and Magui didn’t go unnoticed.

“Look, I know what she did to you was unforgivable, and I hate her for how much she hurt you. You know that. But I talked to Lando, and they’re not dating. She’s just a friend he has in common with the people close to him, he would never date her because of what she did to you” you explained, trying to diffuse the situation.

João sighed, shaking his head. He turned to look at you, seeing the look on your face; a look he knew all too well.

He knew he had no right telling you who you should or shouldn’t talk to. He didn’t like it when you did it to him, he had no right doing it to you. But he had just been so angry at Magui for what he had done to him, time and time again after he had forgiven her, and he lost it when he saw the man in front of him.

However, looking at you in that moment, he knew you needed this. And he didn’t want to be the one depriving you of that.

“Okay” was the only thing he said, making your head shoot up and your eyes widen.

“Okay? What does that mean, okay?” you asked cautiously.

“If you want to go out with him, you can go out with him. I have nothing against it” he said, which prompted you to squeal and jump on him to hug him, chanting thank yous in his ear. “But, if he does anything to hurt you, I’m not afraid to fight him” it made you laugh.

Without wasting a single moment, you picked up your phone again and sent Lando a message, smiling giddily.

so, about that date?

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[cozage]

First of all, love the way you write the characters and stories!! They’re so fun to read and always is a huge moodbooster!

May I request Law or the monster trio finding reader after finishing up a huge battle? (Like where the reader is too exhausted to move)

Please remember to take care of yourself so to not end up like overworked reader!! You’re always allowed and deserving of rest 🫶

Characters: gn reader x Law, Luffy, Sanji, Zoro Cw: post-battle exhaustion  Total word count: 800

Post Battle

Law

Law would be pissed that you spent all of your energy to fight a battle. Especially a battle that he started.

He would be more scared than anything, and he would also blame himself for putting you in this situation. He just wants you safe, and it’s not fair that you ended up like this because of him.  

He would probably scold you and warn you not to take things too far again (“your body can’t take much more of this y/n-ya. You know better”)

But he doesn’t want to lose you. That thought is the scariest thing in the world for him. He can’t live without you. 

And the fear of losing you comes out in the form of anger. But his fear will quickly extinguish, and he will quickly become the soft, loving man you know in secret. 

He’ll pick you up and shambles you both away to safety, where you are priority number one. He cares to your wounds and caters to anything you possibly need (even if he does fake-grumble about it, he really does love it)

In the future, he promises himself that he will do better and he will never put you in a position like that again. 

Sanji

Sanji didn’t even want you to fight. He’s angry that you put yourself in harm's way. Someone should’ve been there to protect you. He should’ve been there. 

Not that you can’t handle yourself. He trusts you to get the job done. He’s just mad at himself for leaving you in the first place and putting you in a situation where you had to fight. 

When he whispers your name and coos in your ear, promising you that you’ll be okay.

He calls for Chopper and he wipes your hair out of your face. He doesn’t want to move you in case he ends up hurting you further. He’s trying his best to stay calm. 

He wants to panic, and every bone in his body is screaming in agony seeing you like this, but he doesn’t want you to panic, so he tries his best to act normal (he's not super great at it tbh he is so obviously scared for you)

He keeps saying stupid things like “no no don’t talk, save your strength” or “you look so beautiful everything is going to be okay” and you have to remind him that everything WILL be okay. You’re not dying, you're just tired. 

While you're recovering he makes so. much. food. You have to pawn some off to Luffy when Sanji isn’t looking because there’s no way you can eat so much. 

Luffy

Luffy would be proud. SO so proud. 

Covering you in kisses and cheering and showing you off to the world proud. 

He trusts you to handle whatever battle you’re in. And he knows you’ll hold up your part of the deal. You’ve never let him down before. 

He keeps you close though. He takes a post-battle nap with you, intertwined with your body. 

He feels safe with you next to him like that. He swears your body has magical healing properties, because he always wakes up 200% better after sleeping next to you (you feel better too, though you can’t explain why).

He keeps you next to him through the feast and the party, and he examines your new cuts, bruises, and scars. He only admires them, which helps you feel a little less insecure about them. 

Sometimes you all have matching cuts or bruises, to which Luffy celebrates with another round of booze and another plate of meat. 

Zoro

Zoro is also insanely proud of you. 

He never doubted you, but he knew it would be a hard battle. It was for everyone. But of course you got it finished. You were a person of your word and you would do what you said. 

He tries to be casual about it. He won’t admit that he was a little worried about how you would end up, but he’s so relieved to find you mostly okay. 

He doesn’t admit how his pace quickened when he saw you crumpled on the ground. How just for a moment, he found himself considering a quick prayer to some random god to make sure you were okay. 

But you were just tired. And he knows how to fix that. He gently picks you up and carries you back to safety. 

He lets you sleep while he runs his fingers through your hair and across your skin, so so thankful that all you need is a little nap to be okay. 

And to be honest, he could use a nap too. He’ll blame you for needing a nap, but he always sleeps easier with you around, especially after a battle.

[hoodoo12]

Bad Date (1/2)

An oldie but a goodie (I think). Who hasn't been in a situation that you feel trapped in and need an out?

NSFW, Beetlejuice x f!reader

You fiddled with your fork. The droning--the god awful, incessant droning--from the other side of the small table never ceased. The man sitting there, the man who you agreed to go out on this date with, hadn’t stopped talking about himself. The. Entire. Time.

It wasn’t as though he had interesting or fun stories either. He had opinions on everything, no matter the subject, and thought himself an expert of everything too. He worked at a car dealership, for the love of god, and although he bragged about how much money he made and the fancy vehicles he drove, you had a suspicion he was more on the level of a lot attendant instead of a top salesman.

Why did you ever swipe right on his photo?

You slipped your phone into your lap and discreetly checked the time. You’d been at this restaurant for thirty minutes, and although the waiter had taken your orders, you’d only gotten drinks and a basket of bread so far. This was insufferable. How were you going to last through salad and an entree with this guy? You didn’t even want to think about coffee and dessert.

While he continued to prattle on about the border wall or car tires or whatever, your mind drifted.

Beetlejuice had not been happy you’d gone out tonight. He’d expected another lazy evening in, but it wasn’t like the two of you were exclusive or anything! Who knew how many people the ghost had on the side? It wasn’t like you could keep track of him. And whenever you dared try to mention the word ‘boyfriend’ or ‘partner’ or anything of the sort, he stammered and turned a more sickly shade of pale, and found excuses to change the subject. That, or he just left, no matter what the two of you happened to be doing at the moment. Sometimes, for fun, you teased him about it, just to make him squirm.

Tonight you’d give anything for it to be real. Then you’d never be in this mess.

You wondered if typing his name into a text message would summon him.

No harm in trying . . .

With a quick glance up at the guy across the table flapping his lips--oh god, he saw you looking and thought you were encouraging him!--you quickly dropped your gaze to your phone again. Because Beetlejuice wasn’t listed in your phone, you pulled up a cousin’s contact page as a proxy.

Quickly you tapped out, “Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse,” into a new text message.

You hit send. You could explain to your cousin later.

Nothing happened. You gave it a few more minutes while the yammering from your date continued, and still nothing happened.

You decided to try again, with a phonetic spelling this time.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!”

You crossed your fingers this time that he’d appear.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Your date continued to be oblivious to the fact you were completely ignoring him.

Nothing.

Then a tiny ‘ping!’ from your phone!

“What the hell? Is this some kind of safe word?” your cousin texted back.

With a wry smile, you thought your cousin had no idea how the answer to her question was the truth. You also hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until you got some kind of response. You let it out in disappointment that it wasn’t Beetlejuice, but used it as an excuse to leave the table.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” you blurted, interrupting your date and getting out of your chair before he could respond. You darted away from the table towards the restrooms.

In the restroom, you ignored your phone and stared into the mirror. Someone else was in one of the stalls, but you disregarded that too; you just wanted help!

Watching your lips form the words, you muttered, “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.”

You closed your eyes at the last syllable. When you opened them, he was standing right behind you, his mouth curled into a snarl and his eyes dark under furrowed brows.

You spun on your heel to him.

Before you could tell him that you needed rescuing, he spit,

“What the hell do you want?”

Startled, you couldn’t answer. Typically he was pleased to hear his name--

“I thought we weren’t seeing each other tonight,” he continued in an angry growl. “You had your date, and I was supposed to sit around, twiddling my thumbs, watching reruns of the shit they show on TV in the Netherworld--it’s all garbage like Manimal and My Mother the Car, nothing even entertaining like the Jerry Springer Show--”

“Beej, you’ve got to help me!” you interrupted. “You’ve got to get me out of this date!”

At least he had the decency to stop talking when you said something, unlike the guy still sitting at the table.

Beetlejuice fixed you with an undeniable “I-told-you-so” expression, but it didn’t soften his anger. “Nope. You got yourself into this, you get yourself out of it.”

That was not the answer that you had expected. Beetlejuice was usually ecstatic to rain chaos down on the living. He usually jumped at the opportunity to harass people. And now, at all times, he’d decided to, to . . . make you pay for one measley mistake?

Tears welled in your eyes. Deep down, you knew you deserved it.

You grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and dabbed your eyes. Okay. He wouldn’t help? Then you’d sit through the rest of this horrible date, pray to god the guy didn’t get handsy or expect anything physical in return for paying, and then you’d take a long hot shower when you got home to try and wash away the memory of this disastrous night.

“Okay, Beej,” you told him quietly. Because tears began forming again, you couldn’t see the expression on his face. You imagined it was triumph. “I’m . . . I’m sorry about tonight.”

With the apology, you reached for his hand, gave it a quick squeeze, and left the restroom. As the door began swinging closed behind you, you heard an old woman’s voice from the stall exclaim,

“I heard a man’s voice! There better not be a man in this ladies room, or I’m speaking to the management--”

The door closed completely, and you never heard a retort from Beetlejuice.

⁂

You made your way back to your table. Your date was there, looking annoyed he’d lost his audience. You sat down again, murmured a quiet lie that your cousin’s dog was sick and she was giving you an update, and your date launched into a diatribe about how veterinarian medicine was a money-grabbing scam.

You went back to fiddling with your fork, feeling miserable. Once or twice you tried to at least look interested in whatever nonsense erupted out of the mouth of the guy sitting opposite of you, but it wasn’t a facade you could maintain.

Luckily, a waiter bumped into your table. It broke your date’s soliloquy, thankfully. Salad plates were dropped in front of the two of you. Your date looked annoyed, but you were just happy to have something else to focus on. You thanked the waiter without looking up.

To keep yourself occupied, you tried to remember and list all the ingredients in a Ceasar salad while you stabbed some with your fork. Now your date was talking about some other fancier restaurant he’d gone to, with grilled romaine lettuce for the salad, and croutons made daily with their own milled flour for the bread, and wild-caught yeast, and, and, and--

Mechanically you chewed. Nothing had flavor.

“--it was nothing like this! These are obviously store-bought croutons!” your date was saying, because he’d suddenly become a celebrity chef along with a veterinarian and car dealer. “Subpar ingredients! I’d hope that they are saving money so the steak I ordered will be higher quality, but I know that won’t be true--what the hell is this?”

You couldn’t even fake enough interest to lift your head.

“What the actual hell?” he exclaimed, then more loudly, he snapped his fingers and called for the waiter. “Hey. Hey! Waiter! Get over here!”

You stabbed another bit of lettuce. As you raised it to your mouth, the waiter got to your table.

“Yes sir? Would you like some freshly cracked black pepper on your salad?”

The waiter’s voice was soft with a bit of a scratch that made it sound like he may have the beginnings of a sore throat. You didn’t look up at him, but from the corner of your eye saw that his trousers were faded black with uneven pinstriping. Wasn’t the rest of the staff in solid black clothing?

“No!” your date admonished rudely. “There is something in my salad and I want to know what it is!”

Curious beside yourself, you looked over the table.

Your date was red-faced and angry, pointing at his plate. You didn’t see anything in it. When he tapped it with his fork, however, some of the lettuce moved on its own.

The waiter reached into the salad with dirty-looking fingernails. In slow motion, everything happened at once: you looked up his arm to Beetlejuice’s face, a decidedly evil grin began to widen his lips, and he plucked a tiny, four inch, black and white sandworm out of your date’s salad to hold it up in front of him.

Time snapped back into proper speed as your date gasped.

Still holding the wriggling, hissing sandworm, Beetlejuice grabbed a chair from another table, swung it around so he could straddle it backwards, and plopped himself down between the two of you. He didn’t say a word to you.

He held the angry sandworm in front of your date’s face.

“This, Matt,” he said, putting an obvious tone of dislike on your date’s name. He grabbed your date by the shoulder to keep him seated, then continued like this was a nature show and he was presenting a fascinating creature. “This is a baby sandworm. Look at the little fellow! See his little stripes and blue lips? That’s because he’s poisonous. He’s warning predators off! But, interesting fact, he’s also venomous. Those teeny tiny fangs’ll inject you with venom and paralyze you so you don’t struggle as he’s swallowing you! Look how mad he is!”

Beetlejuice shoved the sandworm closer to Matt’s face, making him flinch back.

“Oh, he’s so mad you can see his secondary mouth! Usually those don’t appear until they’re older!”

The sandworm writhed and continued to hiss wildly.

“Now. Matt. Listen,” Beetlejuice continued like this was a perfectly normal conversation, even though you could see Matt wanted to bolt. The ghost’s grip was white-knuckled tight on him. “This little guy, yeah. He’d mess you up some. Make you sick if you ate him, or if he got shoved into some bodily orifice. But he probably wouldn’t kill you.”

You imagined you almost saw a look of relief pass over Matt’s face.

“His mother though . . .” Beetlejuice mused thoughtfully. “Sandworms are really protective of their young. This baby gets inside you and his mama is going to come looking for you, and she’s gonna be fifty solid feet long of pissed off.”

The expression of horror on Matt’s face made a small smile crack your lips. Beetlejuice grinned too.

“So Matt, what do you say? You wanna apologize to the lady for being a total d-bag and wasting her evening with your non-stop drivel and an ego that is, to be honest, even impressing me a little bit with its size? Or would you like to see how quickly little Sandy here can wriggle his way into your brain or stomach? He’d fit in an ear, I bet, and if not, definitely down your throat--”

Matt managed to wrench himself away from the grip holding him in his seat. He stood up so fast his chair tipped over as he backed away. That caught the attention of the other patrons, but your date didn’t care. He stumbled through some creative, cussing descriptions of you, Beetlejuice, and the whole situation, his voice growing louder as he continued.

Restaurant staff began converging on the table. You were mortified but felt a little surge of warmth that Beetlejuice hadn’t abandoned you. Beetlejuice’s expression was a mixture of amused and bored. Matt’s voice rose until the ghost stood up abruptly and grabbed him again.

“Apologize,” he ordered, “and don’t even think of contacting her again.”

Being held by what he thought was a deranged man--that observation was surprisingly accurate--with the still hissing sandworm dangerously close to his face, Matt choked out an apology to you. Beetlejuice released him, dusted Matt’s jacket off, and gave him a slight shove.

By then the restaurant’s manager had arrived. Matt, since he wasn’t restrained any longer, continued to swear, trying to describe what just happened to him, talking about the sandworm and being accosted and this establishment going to be shut down--

--he was escorted from the premises.

Before anyone could turn their attention to you and the ghost poorly imitating one of their wait staff, you and Beetlejuice hurried out the door as well.

Outside, you threw your arms around his neck.

“Thank you! You don’t know how much it means to me that you did that!”

Beetlejuice pursed his lips like he was a little disgusted with himself for coming to your rescue, but the quick kiss you planted on him erased the expression.

“Are sandworms really protective of their young?” you asked. “Is one really going to come looking for that baby?”

“Hell no!” he scoffed. The tiny sandworm he still pinched between his fingers had calmed down a little. That, or it was tired from all the activity. “They give birth and then its every one of them for themselves! If the babies don’t bury themselves quick enough, the mother eats them! Nasty little buggers.”

“Ugh,” you agreed. “Well, get rid of it, then. And I owe you big time.”

At that, Beetlejuice looked you straight in the eye and leered. “I’m going to keep you to your word on that, baby.”

He offered you an arm, so you hooked your hand through his elbow, and the two of you left for home.

tbc . . .

[juniperskye]

Why are you in my head?

Sneak Peek: Eddie and you are soulmates. The legend of soulmates is that you start to hear one another’s thoughts around age 16 – not all the time, but when you’re feeling a strong emotion. It simply flows out of you and into the other, the legend also states that the closer you are, the more you can hear them. **The events of season 4 did NOT happen** I did also use some of the dialogue

Bold are Eddie’s thoughts; Italics are reader’s thoughts. (mind you, they are essentially hearing both sets of thoughts)

Eddie Munson x Fem Sunshine! Reader (Soulmate AU)

Fluff - Part 2 Part 3 Part 4** Part 5

Word count: 1364

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, explicit language, let me know if I missed any!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You had known all about soulmates, your mom had told you bedtime stories about soulmates and how she and your dad met throughout your entire childhood. They had been hearing one another’s thoughts for quite a while before your dad saved your mom from being run over by a biker as she stepped off the curb. She’d tell you how when their eyes met she could hear him thinking about how beautiful her eyes were and he heard her thinking about how handsome he was. You have hoped and dreamed of meeting your soulmate since you were four years old.

You had a soulmate, that much you knew. You had been hearing his thoughts for the last few years, they were few and far between which frustrated you. Your mom had explained it just meant he wasn’t close by, which sucked. You were hoping that the distance would decrease, given your family’s plans to move.

Hawkins, Indiana wasn’t exactly a town that people were flocking to…but here you were. Your mom had been offered a job at their hospital there as the supervising nurse and your parents had decided it was too good an offer to pass up. Your dad had contacted the local police department to see if they had any openings, to which they asked for a letter of recommendation and pretty much offered him the job.

Things were working out well for your parents. You hadn’t really been sure about the move. Your soulmate’s thoughts had been pretty quiet the last few days but, a part of you knew it was because your anxiety of this move was clearly drowning out his thoughts.

The car finally came to a stop, and you glance up for the first time since you’d gotten in the car that morning, too focused on the music playing from your Walkman and rereading The Hobbit, again. You looked up to see a modest home in a cookie cutter neighborhood, you were grateful for your parents and their ability to provide you with the things you need, but some days you wished your family wasn’t so…average.

“Sweetie, why don’t you head in and pick your room?” Your mom suggested.

“Really? I get to choose?” You asked.

“You have your pick, other than the master bedroom. You and I will organize the remaining rooms.” Your mom explained.

Damnit, if I could just get the chords right.

You quickly jogged up to the door, letting yourself in. You made your way upstairs first, checking out the two small bedrooms up there that were situated opposite the master bedroom, separated by a full bathroom. While both rooms were nice, they didn’t give you nearly enough room to “express your creative freedom” as your mom had encouraged. On the main level there was a kitchen, dining room, sitting room, powder room, and living room. There had been a door leading under the stairs, you were pleased to see it led down into a fully finished basement that had a full bathroom.

“MOMMMMM! I chose my room!” You called as you ran up the stairs.

There we go.

*Eddie’s POV*

Hell yeah! This is fucking perfect!

The thoughts had rung out like an alarm in his head. Her thoughts had never been this loud and clear. What had changed?

She better let me make the basement my room!

Had she finally moved? He had been hearing all her nervous thoughts about packing up and moving across the country. She must be closer now if her thoughts were coming in like this now.

YES! YES! YES! Now…how to decorate?

He smiled to himself. She seems sweet based off what he knows. He had asked Wayne about soulmates when he was growing up. He’d asked questions like “why can’t I just think of my address, so she could find me?” and Wayne had explained that it didn’t work like that. Thoughts were passed back and forth at moments it was needed – in times of excitement, or when we needed comfort, or to vent. There was some sort of neurological algorithm as to what thoughts were sent when.

*End Eddie’s POV*

You had started unpacking pretty much the second your parents agreed to let you make the basement your room. Your dad had even agreed to take you to the hardware store to pick up paint this weekend.

“You’ll start at the high school on Monday. The principal confirmed that he received your transcripts and all your credit hours transferred, so you’re right on track.” Your dad explained.

“Oh, awesome! Did he happen to send my schedule or anything so I could familiarize myself with it beforehand?” You asked.

Oh fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck! I am so late. O’Donnell is gonna kill me!

Your hand flew to your head, the volume of his thoughts brought forth a pounding in your head. They had never been this loud before.

“Bug? You okay?” Your dad looked concerned.

“Yeah, I’m okay! Just a headache. Too many thoughts in there I guess.” You chuckled lowly.

“Honey, was it his thought?” Your mom questioned.

You hadn’t told your parents much about your soulmate, only that you had been able to hear him and that he was, in fact, a him.  They had also been aware that you hadn’t been able to hear him lately – that was when your mom explained that your thought can sometimes drown out theirs.

“Yeah, it was and uh, I don’t know, I guess it was kinda loud.” You shrugged.

“How loud?” Your mom asked.

“I don’t know, loud enough to give me a headache. It was like he was in the room with me.” You looked at your parents, a knowing grin making its way onto each of their faces. “What?”

“Nothing bug. Let’s go see if your principle sent that schedule over.” Your dad wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side.

Monday morning had come way too soon, though you’d had an incredibly productive weekend. Your room was painted and decorated, you’d finished rereading The Hobbit and had begun rereading Pet Cemetery, you’d also memorized your class schedule.

Your dad dropped you off at school, he also told you he was planning to go and check out a car for you after his shift – that had left you pretty excited.

Finally! My own car!

The day was dragging on pretty slowly…truthfully you were ready for lunch.

Then Vecna will make a surprise return.

What the hell?

This campaign is going to be epic!

His thoughts had come and gone like this since you’d arrived in Hawkins. Just back and forth with random tidbits that left you more confused than anything.

The bell ringing had been your saving grace. It was finally time for lunch, and now you were feeling anxious again…where were you meant to sit?

You looked around and before you could take a step, a voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

Here we fucking go.

“We're the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game. But as long as you're into band or science ...or parties or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets...”

God he’s hot.

“It's forced conforming. That's what's...killing the kids!”

Assholes.

Kids were either laughing at his outburst or calling him horrible names, but you just stood there. Could this really be him? This super-hot guy who just caused an entire scene in the cafeteria.

“Me, I am army-crawling my way toward a D in Ms. O'Donnell's. If I don't blow her final, I'm gonna walk that stage next month, I'm gonna look Principal Higgins dead in the eye, I'm gonna flip him the bird, I'm gonna snatch that diploma. I'm gonna run like hell outta here…This year is different. This year is my year.”

He took a step back and bumped right into you, but before you could fall to the ground, he grabbed your arm and pulled you up and against his chest.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

You both let out a quiet chuckle.

All at once, colors were brighter, smells were sweeter, touches were softer. Everything came together in that moment; you couldn’t believe it. Here he was.

[zegrasdrysdale]

Hi! Could you do a Luke Hughes x reader where the reader still goes to UMich while Luke is in Jersey w/ Jack and she speculates he’s cheating on her? Angst with a happy ending, preferably? Thank you!

[ 604 miles ] l. hughes

paring : Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary : after seeing Luke on Jack’s private story, his girlfriend begins speculating that he’s doing more than just playing hockey

warning(s) : angst ! but w a happy ending. mentions of cheating. reader still goes to Umich

author’s note : oooh this is gonna be juicy

༺═──────────────═༻

She trusts Luke. She swear she does, but she can’t help but feel the little pull at her heart when she watches him in the background of Jack’s private story.

A bunch of their mutual Michigan friends started to text her while she was doing homework. Even fans on social media have been posting about it and tagging her in posts.

She was confused, then she opened Snapchat to see what they were talking about.

In one video, Jack’s drunk and dancing to some song that she doesn’t know. In the background, she sees her boyfriend sitting at a booth with some blonde at his side. He isn’t touching her, but she’s sitting too close to him.

In another video, Luke’s in the background dancing with that same girl. She notices the smile on Luke’s face when he faces the camera.

It brings tears to her eyes as she jumps to an immediate conclusion. She’s been right every time so far.

She truly thought he was different than the other hockey players she dated. They all cheated on her too, and Luke promised her over and over again that he would never do that to her.

Well, here he is. Probably cheating on her and Jack is posting it all over his private Snap story for all their mutual friends to see. It’s embarrassing for her.

It took months for Luke to break down the wall she built around her heart. They met halfway through their freshman year at Michigan. It wasn’t until the beginning of their sophomore year that they started dating.

With her sadness turning into anger and tears rolling down her hot face, she calls Luke. It keeps ringing. And ringing. So she calls one more time.

And gets his voicemail.

“Luke Warren Hughes, you have five minutes to call me back or you’re going to end up without a girlfriend,” she says into the phone. “I mean it. And you better have a damn good reason you’re dancing with some random blonde girl on Jack’s Snapchat.” Then she hits the end button and puts the phone on her desk with the screen up.

A minute passes and her phone doesn’t ring. She doesn’t get a text.

Two minutes pass and her fingers are itching to call him again. She wants to stay true to her word because if Luke has a good explanation as to why he’s with some blonde then he’ll call her back.

Four minutes pass from the call. She drafts a text to Jack that she’s going to send in a minute if her phone doesn’t ring.

‘ tell luke i’m going to send him his things that i have in my apartment and that i want mine back. i’m done. ’

After five minutes pass, she sends the text.

It’s not the first time that this has happened, and it’s the last. Not only is she done with Luke, she’s done with any hockey boys in general. Too many times has she gotten her heart broken because the relationship had to go long distance. Too many times has she had too much trust.

Two minutes after she sents Jack the text, her phone rings. Jack is calling her.

“I really don’t feel like explaining why-”

“What do you mean you’re done?” Luke interrupts before she can finish her sentence. “What did I do?”

Her jaw drops. “You can’t be serious, Luke,” she replies. “I saw you in the background of Jack’s snaps getting too comfortable with a blonde girl. Sitting with her and a smile on your face while dancing with her? You told me you wouldn’t break my heart.”

“That’s not- baby, she’s a friend,” Luke tries to defend. “Jack’s friend if I’m being honest. He was busy hanging out with Nico and Dawson so she came to sit with me. She dragged me out onto the dance floor and told me to dance. I told her I had a girlfriend and she still dragged me to the dance floor and got close to me. I didn’t try to do anything with her because I don’t want to.”

Tears sting her eyes. “I gave you a chance to explain yourself,” she tells him. “I called you twice before I texted Jack. It took me texting Jack before you called me from his phone. You told me you’d never break my heart but you did. I don’t trust you, Luke. I’ve been told that same story over and over again.”

Luke stays silent. She has to dry her own tears that have rolled down her cheeks. She has to cover her mouth so she doesn’t let out a sob that he hears.

She’s standing her ground. She’s protecting her heart. The 604 miles between them should be enough space and make it easier to move on.

“(Y/N), I would never cheat on you,” Luke tells her. She can hear the sincerity in his voice but she still doesn’t believe him.

“Luke, I can’t right now,” she softly says. She’s pretty sure he can’t even hear her because of how loud it is in the bar or wherever they are. “I’m sorry.”

Then she hangs up. She shuts her phone off and crawls into bed, completely forgetting about her homework. All she wants to do right now is wallow.

His words are just words. She knows what she saw. Right now, nothing that Luke can say to her will change her mind about being done.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s nearly two in the afternoon when she hears a knock on her off-campus apartment door. She hasn’t gotten up out of bed in nearly forty-eight hours except to use the bathroom. Her phone hasn’t been turned on since her talk with Luke the other day.

Someone is probably coming to check on her since she has fallen off the face of the Earth for the moment. That is the only reason why she drags herself out of bed to go answer the door.

When she swings open the door, it’s the last person she expects to be on her doorstep. He actually supposed to be in California right now. They have a game to play in a few hours in Anaheim.

Luke holds a single rose out for her and a little basket full of snacks is in his other hand. “I was going to get a whole bouquet for you but I forgot to grab one at the store,” he tells her. “If anyone asks, I did not pull this from the bed by the front door of the building.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wanted to talk,” he replies. “You haven’t been replying to any of my texts or answering my calls. I told Lindy that I needed a few personal days and he told me that I can come back when I’m ready to. I didn’t want you to keep thinking that I was cheating on you or hurting you. That was never my intention.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the apartment. Luke is quick to follow her and shut the door behind her. “You can say what you have to say then you can get on a flight to Anaheim to play tonight,” she tells him as she sits on the couch in the living room.

He sets the basket of snacks on the coffee table in front of her and sets the rose next to it. Luke pulls out his phone and taps on it for a second. She’s about to say something when he shows her his screen.

It’s a picture of the blonde girl that was with Luke, but she’s all cuddled up with Jack. Jack looks happy and is looking at her like she’s the only person in the world. It was taken at the beginning of the night because she can tell that there is something behind Jack’s eyes.

“It’s Jack’s ‘friend’,” Luke assures her. “They’re together but aren’t telling people they’re together but they make it obvious that they are. The reason she was hanging out with me for a little bit was because she wanted to know how to tell Jack that she’s ready to publicly be together.”

She looks up at Luke behind the phone. “You couldn’t answer your phone and just tell me that?” she asks.

“I left it in the car,” he tells her. He taps on the screen a few more times and holds up a screenshot of his and Jack’s locations. They weren’t together, and it looks like Luke was right outside the building.

It’s all making sense to her. Her and her trust issues were wrong this time.

A pout forms on her lips at the same time tears form in her eyes. “You really weren’t lying to me,” she mumbles. Her voice is incredibly shaky.

“I told you that I would never break your heart,” Luke tells her. “Not intentionally. I definitely wouldn’t cheat on you. I know you’re past with that and no matter how upset I am with you, I wouldn’t resort to that. Unlike everyone else you’ve been with, I’m more willing to communicate. Hell, I took time away from the team to come make sure we were okay.”

One of the tears rolls down her cheeks and Luke uses the back of his pointer finger to wipe it away. She leans into his touch and looks at him. “I’m sorry, Luke,” she says. It comes out as more of a sob than actual words.

He moves closer to her and throws an arm over her shoulders. She curls up against him and Luke kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay,” he assures her. “I know how you think so I gave you a little bit then came to talk to you. Just needed you to think with your head and not your past.”

She frowns and throws her legs over his lap. Luke holds her close.

“Do you want to go to Anaheim to play?” she asks as she looks up at him. “There’s enough time for you to make it for warmups.”

Luke shakes his head. “I think I want to spend a few days with you,” he replies. “I’m pretty sure they can handle a couple of games without me. I need a handful of days off where I don’t think about hockey. I haven’t been playing the best so a break sounds nice.”

“It’s your first season,” she tells him as she runs her fingers through his curls. “There is so much pressure on you because of your last name. You’re most likely feeling it without realizing it.”

He looks at his girlfriend. “I know,” he sighs. “Just give me a few days and I’ll head back to Jersey to play when they get back from the California trip.”

She leans forward and presses a long kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” she tells him. “I think you’ll grow into your NHL skates. You’ll have an insane season next season, or even for the last 20 something games of the season.”

“I love you too,” Luke replies. “Sorry I made you think I was cheating on you.”

“Got you to come see me so I guess I forgive you,” she teases.

It’s been a few weeks since Luke came to see her. They watched the All Star game together in the apartment. That was the last time they saw each other.

Luke gets comfortable on the couch. “Can we take a nap since we’re okay?” he asks. “I’m exhausted.”

“Only if we move to the bed because you are too big to share a couch with.”

༺═──────────────═༻

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[moonchildstyles]

angel getting high for the first time 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

cw: drug use! its only weed, nothing heavy but if that makes you uncomfortable please skip :)

wordcount: 11.8k+

—————

(Y/N) kicked her legs in the air as she laid tummy down on her bed. She listened to the ringing from the phone pressed to her ear, waiting for a familiar voice to answer. 

In the middle of the third ring, her hopes were answered when a click sounded. Muffled background noise started through the speaker, accompanying a honeyed drawl.

"Hi, lovebug," Harry murmured, his speech seemingly slower than normal. 

"Hi," she chirped through her smile. Her feet kicked in the air, free hand coming up to twirl her hair around her index finger. "What are you doing?" 

A random burst of laughter bubbled through the other line, distant from the phone though it was still loud. "'M on the phone, be quiet," Harry reprimanded, voice far from the receiver before he returned with a decided softer tone, "Nothing, jus' trying to watch a movie with Mitch. What about you, baby?" 

"Just in bed," she mused, "I wanted to call before I went to sleep. Did you want me to let you go since you're with Mitch?" 

Since deciding on moving in together once their respective leases expired, (Y/N) had been making a point to spend more time with Sarah while she was still so close. She didn't want to get in the way if Harry was trying to do the same. 

"No, no, I wanna talk to you, 's alright," he assured her, "How was your day?" 

It was still sweet to (Y/N) the way that she could text him all day long, telling him everything about her day, and he still would ask her a question like this. He told her once that he likes hearing her voice, even if he already knows what she's telling him. 

"It was alright," she said, rolling to lay on her back, looking up at her ceiling, "I turned in that paper that I was working on last weekend, so that's all done. The library was super quiet today, though, I almost fell asleep in the philosophy section." 

A small laugh sounded from Harry. "Did y'really?" 

"Yeah," she sighed, a smile curling her lips, "Elizabeth had to come entertain me. But, what about you? You did that big piece today, right?" 

"Yeah, the thigh piece," he said, voice thick, "She was a nice girl, but I had a headache by the time we took the first break. She liked to talk a lot. M'hand's been cramping since lunch." 

A pout landed on (Y/N)'s lips. She hated hearing about those kinds of details from Harry's job. She had always figured it was so fun and glamorous, easy and fulfilling. She had never thought about the physical toll of drawing and shading and designing all day long. 

"Oh, no," she hummed, instinctively rolling her wrist and curling her fingers as if she could take his pain from miles away. "Did you take anything to help?" 

"Kind of. Mitch and I have been relaxing since he got home." 

She knew exactly what that meant. Though Harry tended to keep this specific hobby of his separated from her, set on the back burner away from the time he spent with her, she knew better. Besides, she had found that little bag in his dresser months ago, she wasn't completely clueless (of course, he did have to explain what she had found to her, but that was a different story). 

That would explain why time seemed to be moving a little bit slower on the other end of the phone, and the boisterous laughter Mitch was sharing in the background. 

"Have you been smoking?" she asked, voice quiet. She always felt a bit silly bringing this up to him, unsure of what terms to be using and what meant what exactly. 

"A little bit, yeah," he affirmed, "Sorry. I didn't know you'd be calling. I wouldn't have if I knew you wanted to talk tonight." 

Shaking her head despite the fact he couldn't see her, (Y/N) rushed her protests. "No, no, don't be sorry. I don't mind, you know that. As long as you're happy and you guys are being careful." 

"Always am, baby." 

A heat bubbled in her chest at his words. While he never did it around her, there were times that she called him or he FaceTimed her before bed when he was under the influence and his voice drawling just a little deeper, sitting heavier in his chest, hit her just perfectly. She could imagine the way his eyes were a bit hooded, his tongue sticking around his words, the easy smiles that spread across his face for no other reason than he liked the feeling. 

She wondered what he looked like in the act. Was it like the movies with lavender smoke and pieces of blown glass with intricate details? Or did he make his own little rolls, hanging from his lips like a cigarette? 

Mitch's loud laugh on the phone brought her back to reality, blinking her back to her room and Harry's static on the other end of the phone. Harry gave a muffled response before his own laughter joined his best friend's, the sound drawling and breezy. 

When he returned to the phone, she could hear the lingering smile in his tone. "I think Mitch found a movie for us to watch, love." 

"What is it?" she asked, feeling the end of the phone call nearing. She would have to settle for spraying the stuffed bunny he gifted her for Valentine's Day with a sample of his cologne for her to cuddle for the night. 

"I don't even know," he laughed, "but, I think 's gonna be funny. I think 'm gonna have to make us food, though, so I don't think I can talk for much longer." 

"That's okay. Have fun with Mitch and I'll talk to you tomorrow, right?" 

"Right," he affirmed, voice soft, "Sleep well, lovebug. I'll call you during my lunch." 

"Okay," she sighed, fitting her cheek against her pillow, "I love you." 

"I love you more, baby," he cooed, "Goodnight." 

An exaggerated kiss noise sounded through her phone, pulling a loud peal of laughter from (Y/N)'s lips. He never really did that when he was around his friends, only putting on the show when he was calling her in private. She thought it was very sweet. 

"Goodnight," she laughed, pressing the red button before she became too spoiled with his shenanigans and tried to keep the call going. 

Setting her phone on her nightstand, she snuggled into her comforter, a throw blanket covering her body instead of her duvet. Pulling her studded bunny from the fringes of her bed, (Y/N) nestled her cheek against the soft fluff. The sown still smelled of Harry's house from the last time she had spent the night, bringing her back to what he was doing in her absence. 

The mystery surrounding his activity of choice for the day is what flicked her curiosity. She'd seen a few movies with marijuana being an uncredited character along with a couple of books with the high feeling being described, but she had never been exposed to anything substantial in real life before she moved away from her parents. Even then, she still hadn't experienced more than the herbal scent that inevitably clung to apartment complexes so close to a university campus and the few bleary eyed classmates she had to work with. 

Specifically, she wondered what Harry was like when he was in that state. Those classmates of hers always seemed disconnected, tired, and in their own head. Was Harry the same way? Did he act the way he did when he drank a little bit too much wine? Or was he wild and excitable like those in the movies? Or sleepy like she had read in her books? 

What would she be like? 

The idea followed her behind her shuttered eyes, her mind going a bit floaty the closer she sunk into sleep. 

—————

"Sarah, have you ever... smoked weed before?" 

The words felt silly falling from (Y/N)'s mouth. Was that even the correct term? She didn't know, but she kept her attention on the food she was making in front of her, hoping Sarah wouldn't notice. 

"Yes," she answered with a suspicious drawl, sweeping through the apartment with a laundry basket on her hip, "Why?" 

(Y/N) only shrugged. "I don't know. I've just been thinking about it." She paused, tipping her head. "What does it feel like?" 

"Smoking?" Sarah pressed. 

"Yeah," (Y/N) chirped, feeling shy that she was even breaching this conversation. "Or, like, being high. Is it like the movies?" 

"A little bit," Sarah mused, folding her laundry on the dining room table into neat piles. "It's not as dramatic or crazy, but it can feel that way sometimes. It depends on the person. Everyone's different." 

Rolling her lips, (Y/N) nodded her head. She chanced a look over her shoulder at her friend, slowing her stirring. "What are you like?" 

Sarah shrugged, a crease between her brows as she thought. "I haven't smoked in a while, but I used to get really tired. It always depended on what kind we had, but I usually got really tired." 

Is that what Harry did? Did he get sleepy, like some of her classmates? Did he nod off during the movie he and Mitch watched the other night? 

"When was the last time?" (Y/N) asked, hoping Sarah didn't cut her off. She was genuinely curious, she hoped she wasn't prodding and poking past her welcome. 

"Maybe a year ago? Could have been longer," Sarah answered. "I was with Mitch so it wasn't too long ago." 

Fixing her attention back on the stirring of the soup she was making for their dinner, she tried to act casual as she spoke. "W-Was Harry there, too?" 

"Harry?" 

(Y/N) could hear the smile in Sarah's voice as she realized where (Y/N)'s curiosity was stemming from. She never tired of teasing just a little over how in love she was with her Harry. (Y/N) only hummed a confirmation, keeping her voice to herself. 

"He wasn't there the last time, but he did used to smoke with us sometimes," Sarah explained, sounding a little too amused as she spoke, "Why?" 

Shrugging, (Y/N) pretended as if she wasn't intrigued at the info Sarah could share. "No reason really. Was it fun? With Harry and Mitch and all?" 

"(Y/N)," Sarah sighed, her voice floating through a smile, "C'mon." 

Stopping her distracting task, she turned to face Sarah who was looking at her with that knowing smile she somehow always had when it came to (Y/N)'s secrets. She was an open book as her friend could tell. 

"What?" (Y/N) feigned nonchalance as if she hadn't already been caught. 

"Did Harry say something? Is that why you're asking about all of this?" Sarah poked, her features set in a gentle tease. 

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth she canted her head, eyes dropping to where Sarah's hands had stalled her folding. "Not exactly," she started, "He just... I don't know, I called him the other night and he was with Mitch and they had been smoking, he told me. I know he's done it a few times since we started dating, but I've just been thinking about it since then." 

Sarah hummed, nodding her head as she listened. "I get it," she said, "I know he doesn't do it around you or anything, right?" (Y/N) only shook her head. Popping her hip with a furrow appearing in her brow as she cast her mind back in search of answers for (Y/N)'s previous questions. "I wouldn't say it's exactly like the movies," Sarah continued, "But it depends on the person and the strain, and things like that. I usually get pretty tired and hungry, Mitch is like the movies sometimes—loud and everything is funny—, and Harry gets really lovey and lazy. None of us really make much sense, though." 

(Y/N) tried to picture it. Lavender smoke in the air, Harry lazing about with hearts in his eyes, Mitch laughing about nothing, and Sarah passed out in the corner with a pillow under her cheek. A pinch appeared between her brows as she tried to see where she would sit amongst those characters. 

"What do you think I'd be like?" 

Blinking, Sarah brought her gaze to her friend. She pursed her lips as she took in (Y/N). 

"I don't know. It's not the same as being drunk, so I don't know if you'd be as excitable." Sarah contemplated for a moment longer. "I don't really know, honestly. Are you thinking about finding out?" 

She could only shrug. A similar anxiety she felt around alcohol before she broke that barrier still surrounded this, if even a bit heightened given the fact the substance was still very much taboo in her life. There were so many scary, over-exaggerated out there about marijuana, along with the fact that it was still very much taboo in (Y/N)'s life. The use of it seemed to be something that was only done in private and kept as a secret for some people. She was worried that if she found out why, she would regret it. 

Though, there were those puffing thoughts in the back of her mind that begged to differ. It couldn't be that bad. Harry, Mitch, and Sarah were three of her favorite people in the whole world. They weren't devilish burnouts with a one-track lifestyle taking them down the drain, like horror stories and PSA's liked to project. They were good people who sometimes indulged in extra relaxation when they had the chance and the mindset to do so. There was nothing wrong with that. 

"You could ask H, if you wanted. You know he'd answer anything you wanted to know." 

"I know," (Y/N) drawled, unsure despite the fact she knew Sarah was telling the truth. "You don't think he'd be annoyed or anything? I know he keeps it all separate from me for a reason, so I don't want to make him upset." 

Sarah leveled her gentle gaze on (Y/N)'s face. "I think he does it because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. It's different than drinking wine with him and things like that, so I bet he just doesn't want to scare you." 

(Y/N) shook her head, "He couldn't scare me, though. He's too nice." 

"To you," Sarah clarified, her smile soft and teasing, "You know he just worries about you and all of that. You wouldn't upset him if you wanted to know more about anything he does."

He did love teaching and showing her things, she knew that. 

"I'll think about it," (Y/N) settled.

"Good," Sarah smiled, grabbing her stacks of folded laundry, "Is dinner ready?" 

"Almost," (Y/N) chirped, adding a little bit of extra seasoning to the pot, "I just need to add the noodles. It'll probably be ready by the time you're done putting everything away." 

Sarah gave a small cheer, stacks of clothing now rehomed in the laundry basket to be returned to her room. "Thank you," she sung, "We should watch that yacht show when we sit down, don't you think?" 

Perking up at the suggestion, (Y/N) quickly nodded her head. "That sounds perfect!" she smiled, mellowing some as she turned her attention to her swirling soup base, "And, thank you for answering everything, by the way. It always helps me." 

"I know, that's why I do it," Sarah settled, reaching out to squeeze (Y/N)'s arm gently before she swept away. 

Left in the silence of the kitchen with only the simmering soup, (Y/N) felt a little bit lighter. Some of her questions were answered even if she had more she wanted to hear from Harry directly. More than anything, she was a little enamored at the idea that Harry was loving and lazy under the influence. She already had a small idea given that she had seen how easy and bubbly he became when he drank, but she'd never seen him really slow down the way she pictured it in her head. 

She wanted to see just how lovey he became, if she was being honest. She already had the privilege of experiencing the affectionate side of him, she wondered just how much higher that volume would be kicked to if he had been smoking. What if he really did have hearts in his eyes?

The thought brought a quiet smile to (Y/N)'s face.

Maybe, she really would have to ask him. 

—————

"What are you thinking for dinner, my love?" 

(Y/N) puckered her lips to reciprocate the small kiss Harry gave her as he traipsed by the couch. Her eyes followed the broad of his back as her made his way towards the kitchen. With her hands folded on the arm of the sofa, she rested her cheek on her forearm, kicking her legs up behind her as she watched him.

"Whatever you want, I'm okay with," she told him, voice soft and easy. 

"Yeah?" he prodded, looking over his shoulder as he washed his hands in the sink, "Even if I didn't feel like making dinner tonight and decided to order sushi instead?" 

"Sushi?" (Y/N) bubbled, "From the new place?" 

Harry nodded, dimples thumbed into his cheeks. "I figured we could try it out tonight, if that was alright." 

"Yes, please," she beamed, her grin only widening when came around to join her in the common area after drying his hands. 

His lip ring bobbled as he matched her smile, using a gentle hand to push a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "Why don't you pull up the website for us while I put my sketches away, and find what y'like. Then we'll order, yeah? 

Despite the long hours he worked at the shop this past weekend, he looked as gorgeous as ever to (Y/N). He lacked eyeliner after wiping it off as soon as he made it home, but his eyes were still the star of the show against his creamy skin. A fresh bee tattoo stood out on the column of his throat, the mosaic wings following the line of his jaw amongst the rose bush filler he had inked across the skin. With the way he stood over her, she got the perfect view of his spiraling curls and the cut planes of his face complete with his glimmering nose stud and lip ring. 

She nodded her head in a lovey daze. "I can do that." 

Amusement flickered in his eyes as he looked down at her. He dipped to her level to press a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose. "Thank you, baby," he murmured, moving away to gather the art supplies he was working with, "I'll be right back." 

Pulling out her phone, (Y/N) searched up the restaurant up while her mind was still on Harry. 

While the questions she had for him were still in the back of her mind, it was too easy to become distracted with him. They weren't apart for a long time by any stretch of the imagination, but even spending a long, four-day weekend away from one another allowed enough fondness to grow between them to keep her mind from wandering very far from what was right in front of her. Besides, Harry barely let her get a word in since she stepped foot in his home, having tugged her to his bedroom with his lips pressed to hers, only breaking for breath. 

She'd ask him at some point, she was sure. If she had the mind to after dinner. 

Browsing through the menu for a few minutes, (Y/N) found the rolls she was interested in, picking things she had a feeling Harry would like and finding other little gems on the website that she would mention in hopes of getting his opinion on. She searched through the site, trying to find an option to order online with no luck, the browser rerouting her to the main page every time she tried to plug into the ordering site. 

"H?" she called, realizing he still hadn't come back from resetting his utensils. 

"Yes?" he answered back, still in the bedroom, "What do y'need, love?" 

Instead of responding, she stood from the couch and moved towards his room, brows knitted and phone screen bright in her hand. "The website isn't working—it won't let me order," she explained, stepping over the threshold to his room. 

Lifting her head, she saw him standing at his dresser, back to the door with his head angled down and hands fiddling across the top of his dresser. He looked over his shoulder at her, his hands slowing. 

"Give me a second, and I'll take a look," he told her, "I'm still cleaning up—forgot I left some things out." 

"Oh?" she sounded, stepping towards him with her phone being slid back into her pocket, "Do you want any help?" 

Growing close enough, she peered around him to see what he was working on. Instead of spotting the graphite and colored pencils she figured she'd find, she instead saw tiny green buds splaying across the wooden surface with a pair of loose pieces of thin paper and a tall black canister. Harry worked quickly to clean up the mess, majority of the green flakes having been scooped up and replaced in the container though he was struggling to wrangle the remains back into their container. 

"'S alright," he murmured, shifting just enough to cut her view of the space, "'M almost done." 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she rocked on her heels as she stayed put. Before she could think better of her words, they were already spilling from her mouth: 

"Is that weed?" 

She cringed at the sound of her voice wrapping around something so outside of her vocabulary. It sounded better in her head.

Harry's hands slowed, stilling before he looked over his shoulder at her. A sliver of his workspace was once again revealed at the small shifting. 

"What was that?" he pressed, his question seemingly heavy between the two of them. 

She said the wrong thing, didn't she? (Y/N) dropped her gaze from his, settling on the new bumblebee on his neck instead. 

"I ask if that was your... you know," she trailed off, hating the sound of her floundering almost more than just saying the word outright, "That's weed, right?" 

Feeling Harry's gaze trail over her, (Y/N) tried not to squirm. 

"It is, yeah," he muttered, "I didn't realize I left it out. 'M sorry."

Darting her eyes up to match his once more, she tipped her head to the side. "Why are you sorry?" 

Turning away from the dresser entirely, Harry faced her directly. He gave her a small shrug. "I don't like leaving it out when you're here. I meant to clean it up before y'came over, but I forgot." 

"You know I don't mind," she reminded him, "You don't have to be sorry." 

A gentle smile curled his lips, only a single dimple in his cheeks as he looked at her. 

"Thank you, love," he started, "Let me clean up, I'll wash m'hands again, and then I'll—" 

"What does it feel like?" 

(Y/N) could feel her skin simmering in embarrassment as her tumbling question fell from her mouth before she had a chance to police the words. Everything she had been too distracted to ask him came flooding back then, unable to be stopped now that she saw the opportunity. 

"Sorry," she peeped, realizing how abruptly she had cut him off.

He waved her off, "'S alright." He watched her with attentive eyes, catching each of her expressions and minute movements. "What does what feel like?" 

There was no going back now, she figured. 

"Being high," she peeped, "What does it feel like?" 

While he didn't seem to understand where her line of questioning was coming from, or understood her sudden curiosity in his private hobby, he didn't dissect any further. 

Harry rolled his neck, pursing his lips. "It's different for everyone," he started, much the same as Sarah had, "It depends on the kind you smoke, too." 

"But what does it feel like for you?" she rattled off, her words coming quick. Her hands were a busy bundle at her waistline, looking at him with curious eyes. 

A small tug on the corner of his lip had a lopsided smile sparking on his mouth. "It depends, like I said, on what kind, but I usually like it best when m'hands hurt. It helps numb it long enough for the cramping to go away," he mused, "But, other than that, it makes me tired—but not enough to sleep. I jus' want to do nothing but sit and eat. I also get very touchy; lots of cuddling with pillows and whining about not being with you." 

He had to have known that his last comment would get her lips splitting into a sheepish smile, (Y/N) dropping her head to fix her gaze at their feet. It was still a little wild to her that Harry thought about her as often as she did him, even when she wasn't right in front of him.

"You feel like that every time?" 

"Mostly, yeah," he shared, "Sometimes I feel like sketching, or I fall asleep right away. Back when Mitch and I would go out a lot, I used to be really hyper—doing stupid shit because I wasn't afraid of anything. I've definitely calmed down since then." 

"Oh," she sounded. (Y/N) couldn't imagine Harry being reckless, getting himself into trouble that way—but, this was the same man that apparently received his first tattoo at a mechanic's garage by a very amateur artist. He was capable of anything, she guessed. 

"Why do you want to know, love?" he asked, tipping his head with a spiral of his curl falling over his shoulder. 

She attempted to act as nonchalant as possible, giving a shrug of her shoulders despite her lips being rolled between her teeth. "I don't know," she answered, "I've just been thinking about it, I guess." 

"Yeah? Is that all y'wanted to know?" 

While there had to have been hundreds of questions that could come to mind, everything from what he and Sarah meant when they specified reactions were based on the strain or kind of weed that was being consumed, to what skunks vs. dank meant when it came to the herb, she didn't know where to start. Though there was one thing she was wanting to know, beyond just the details of what it would be like to see a clingy, lovey Harry. 

"What do you think I'd be like?" she asked, her words coming out in a rush before she could rethink them.

Harry's gaze was warm on her face as he examined her. Amusement sparked in his eyes. 

"I don't know, but I have a feeling you'd be a little bit like Mitch," he explained, "I think you'd be excited about everything. But, I'd hope you'd be a little like me just because I like the idea of you being clingy and warm, too." 

She liked that idea, too. It was easier this time to add herself to the picture of Harry, Mitch, and Sarah, superimposing herself at Harry's side with her own hearts in her eyes and her hands tangled with his. (They could sneak kisses, too, if she caught the bug of no fear like he used to have).

"Could—Can I—... I think I want to try, if that's alright," she stuttered, unable to find the right words before just letting something roll off her tongue. 

Harry's silence was heavy between them, the lilypad of his irises setting on her. "You want to try smoking?" 

Starting with a soft nod, she tried to find that reckless bubbling that had carried her this far. "I think so, yeah." A beat passed. "If that's alright." 

When he didn't immediately say anything, she chanced a peek up at him to find his eyes fixed on her, gentle and melting as he took her in. He opened his arms for her when he caught her eye, his features softened and warm. "C'mere." 

(Y/N) all but fell into his arms, his chest warm and solid under her cheek. She looped her arms around his middle, her eyes fluttering closed as she relaxed into him. He worked like a shot of lavender incense and chamomile tea for her, the perfect thing to settle her in moments like these. 

His hand spanned over the planes of her back, fingertips massaging the knots of muscle and ladder of her spine. He rubbed over her form in a soothing circuit between her shoulder blades, his opposing hand an anchoring weight on her waist. 

"Y'really want to try it out, love?" he prodded her gently, his voice rumbling under her cheek. 

"I think so," she mumbled, finding it easier to speak now that she was there to hold her instead of watch her.

"When did y'decide that?" 

"The other day, I think," she explained, "After we talked on the phone." 

He hummed, the sound reverberating in her ear. "What made y'think y'wanted to try something like this?" 

Harry always liked to talk her through things like this, she found. It made it easier for him to understand her thought process, he'd said, helping him be honest with her if he worried she was making a choice that might hurt her later. He never lacked patience when it came to guiding her through new experiences. 

"I don't know," she answered honestly, "I just want to know what it's really like. I've only seen a couple of movies and read a few books, but I want to know what it would feel like for me. I don't think it could be so bad if you like it." 

Nosing at her hair, she could feel the smile that had spread across his lips. "'M not always the smartest though, baby. You know that." 

She let out a small laugh at his griping. "I know, but I trust you. If you really don't think it would be good for me, I know you would tell me." 

A pause settled between them. 

"You don't feel like you have to, right? Jus' because 's something I do sometimes, I don't expect you to feel comfortable with it or want to do it with me." 

"I know," she responded, voice resolute, "I just want to try it at least once. If I don't like it or anything like that, I won't do it again." 

After a lingering moment, Harry drew her away from him, peering down at her with a soft gaze. "If you're sure, then we can try it whenever y'want. Jus' let me help you, and I'll be there." 

An impulsive flicker lit through her system. She was on a roll, why stop now? 

"Can we try it tonight?" 

Harry looked at her with widened eyes. "Tonight?" 

(Y/N) nodded her head. "I don't have class until the afternoon tomorrow," she started, a plan coming together, "Do you have to go in early tomorrow?"

His smile was lopsided as he shook his head, likely following where she was going with this. "No, I don't." 

"We could stay up, then," she rattled off, "I could try tonight, and if anything goes wrong we can sleep in a little in the morning." 

Amusement filtered through his gaze. "I didn't know we were having a sleepover," he teased her, dipping his head until his nose nudged against hers, "Y'want to stay the night with me, baby?" 

Her skin hummed as (Y/N) fought the urge to hide herself in his neck. (She acted as if he hadn't been fingers deep in her just a few hours prior, their mouths welded together and her legs around his waist)." 

"Harry," she whined, curling her fists in his t-shirt to keep from pulling away, "I'm trying to be serious." 

"I know," he crooned, tipping his chin to peck a soft kiss to her pouted lips, "And, 'm listening. We can try it out tonight, if y'really want to. But, I think we should eat first, yeah?" 

"Yeah," she repeated, giving a slight nod of her head, "I still need help with the website, though."

"Right," he murmured, pulling away, "Since I don't really need to clean up anymore, let me take a look." 

With that, (Y/N) handed him her phone, telling him about the confusion she felt with the links and the rerouting and all, but her mind was somewhere else. Flicking her gaze around his shoulder, she saw the mess he was leaving out for them to take care of later. The small green buds sparked that familiar kind of nervous excitement that she'd grown accustomed to when it came to new things Harry was planning on teaching her. 

She just hoped she didn't make a fool of herself.

—————

"What did you think, love? Good, right?" 

Taking their dirty utensils—including the pink chopsticks he gifted her for Valentines—Harry spoke over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen.

(Y/N) sat pliantly on the couch, tummy full of the variety of sushi rolls they sampled for the night, along with a new favorite miso soup that she was surely going to be craving as the week went on. "So good. I think my favorite is still the spicy salmon one with that seaweed salad on top." 

Harry laughed from where he stood, surely remembering the way she had practically taken that roll for herself, hoarding the pieces to allow only one bite for him. "I really liked that one, too. We'll have to go back again soon, yeah?" 

"Yes, please," she chirped, looking over the back of the couch as he made his return. 

While the food was a delicious distraction for the night, (Y/N) had still marinated in the idea of what would be coming once she finished and they were settling for the night. The mess he'd left on his dresser was waiting for them, loose papers and all. 

"Ready?" he asked, coming to stand at the end of the sofa.

Was she? She wasn't sure, honestly. But that uncertainty was outweighed by the curiosity and bubbly jitters she had since Harry had agreed to help her. 

Before she had a chance to answer and take his hand, Harry spoke up again, "Jus' to get ready for bed first, baby." 

"Oh," she sounded, nothing more intelligent coming to mind at the moment, "Um, yeah. Then we'll...?" 

He cracked a smile at her hesitancy to name the activity that she had brought up. "Yes, we'll do that afterwards. You'll probably feel more comfortable in some pajamas and your face clean." 

Though she felt a bit silly at the way she had built up a moment that hadn't quite arrived yet, she understood his logic. Besides, if she turned out to be like Sarah, she wouldn't beat herself up in the morning if she did all of her skincare now, and not when she was already inches from sleep.

Taking Harry's hand, she followed after him as he led her to his bedroom, a small duffle bag of hers that stayed here was already sitting by the bathroom door. A change of clothes, and minis of her most essential skincare needs were packed away inside, making it easy for her to spend the night impulsively when she wanted to. 

(Just then, the reminder that she wouldn't be confined to a single bag when they moved in together made her more giddy than before. Soon, she'd be sharing a whole closet with him, a bathroom, and a home. She couldn't wait).

(Y/N) went through the motions of getting unready with Harry standing behind her in the mirror. More often than not, as she brushed her teeth or patted a balm into her skin, her eyes wandered to his reflection. Once or twice, when she was caught, he gave her a sly smile with glimmering eyes. But, when he didn't catch her, his attention on his own task, she was left to allow her mind to gill with imagination. 

She was reminded as she ran her eyes along the cut of his jaw, the plants of his features, and the high points in-between, that he would be stepping behind the lavender veil with her. His previous conversation with her had only revolved around her and what she wanted out of this experience, straying her mind away from the fact that he was going to be a part of the package. 

What would he look like with smoke pluming from his mouth? Would his lilypad eyes go glazed and red? She wondered if his hands would feel any different gliding over her skin, if his lips would still feel as pillowy against hers. 

The thought had her cheeks warming, a sheepish smile forming around the toothbrush between her lips. 

Harry finished before her, stepping out of the bathroom to give her privacy to change into her pajamas. "I'll wait for you out here," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her head. 

Closing the door behind himself, she was left alone with the chilled tile under her socked feet. Glancing at the mirror, (Y/N) found herself fresh-faced with wide eyes and a slight swell to her lips from the amount of times she rolled them between her teeth. Blinking, she wondered if she would look any different to Harry after she pulled the smoke into her lungs. 

It was with rushed hands that she dressed into her sleep clothes (really nothing more than a pair of tiny shorts she would inevitably kick off in the night, and a shirt she had stolen so long ago from Harry that it was hers now), almost slipping her top on backwards before she righted herself in the mirror. Stepping out of the washroom with her laundry being dropped atop her duffle for later, (Y/N) saw Harry once again at his dresser.

This time, he looked to her with an easy smile, his hands working over the surface before him.

"Better?" he smiled, lip ring bobbing. 

"Mhm," she hummed, moving towards him in slow strides, "What are you doing?" 

Turning back to face his hands, he told her, "Jus' getting our things ready. Do you want to watch?" 

A pinch creased her brows as she went towards him. Peering around his shoulder, she saw him working with one of the loose papers from before and a small pile of crushed up greenery. 

"What do you have to do?" (Y/N) only had a vague idea of what all went into preparing for a session like this. 

Smiling down at her, his ministrations slowed now that her attention was placed on his hands. He sidestepped just enough to allow her an unobstructed view of his work. "I figured we'd stick with a joint this first time, so I've got to roll one up for us to use." 

Looking at it now, while she didn't have much knowledge of any of this, she could see familiar pieces forming. The paper would be rolled and twisted with the bud inside, Harry flickering a lighter at the end like a cigarette when it was ready.

"How do you do that?" she muttered, stepping that much closer, feeling as if she were a child pressing their nose against the glass separating them from gallons of ice cream. 

A huffed laugh fell from his lips then. Lifting his arm up, he beckoned her to stand between his chest and the dresser. "C'mere." 

Slipping into the small space he freed for her, the heat of his chest could be felt against her back. Though she caught whiffs of it before, now the herby, earthy smell of the bud was right at her nose, wafting through the air and clinging to her skin. Right in front of her, Harry worked around her, his fingers deftly working through his supplies. 

"First," he started, "You've got to keep the paper flat out and put one of the filters at the end." She watched as he pulled a tiny white piece from the canister, setting it at the middle of one of the short ends of the paper. He kept it stable when he reached for the ground up weed that he had piled in the lid to the container, a small mound he pinched at before sprinkling the chunks in a line across the paper. "We've got to fill it up enough so there's not any air bubbles between," he explained as he worked, his arms hovering above her shoulders as he created their joint with the ease of experience. "This part’s always a little hard for me," he told her, to her surprise. 

"What do you mean?" He could have fooled her.

"'S hard to pack it in like this," he elaborated, his voice dull as he concentrated, "M'fingers are too big, so I've got to be extra careful that I don't mess it up." 

Honing her gaze in on his digits, she had to keep herself from tipping her head to the side and falling victim to the sight. She could see it then, she figured, watching as he tried to pat everything as tightly and precisely as possible. His fingers definitely were too big. 

"Oh," she sounded. 

A breathy laugh came from behind her, the exhale twisting through the hair on the top of her head. "Would y'do something for me, love?" he asked, finally packing enough in as tightly as he could before he started folding the ends of the thin paper. 

She gave a nod, now too transfixed on his hands to speak with an even tone. 

"Would you give this a lick for me?" he asked, "We've gotta seal it up before I can twist it all up." 

"Like, the paper?" she clarified, eyeing the open flap he was presenting to her with the joint grasped carefully between his fingers. 

Harry hummed a confirmation. "There's glue on this edge like an envelope. Gotta make it sticky, then I can close it up for us."

"Um, okay," she muttered, placing a steadying hand on his wrist as he brought the almost-joint to her lips. 

Parting her mouth, she swiped the tip of her tongue along the very edge of the paper. It didn't taste quite as artificially sweet as a regular envelope, but then again, everything was coated in that dusky scent that the herb folded inside held. 

"Thank you, baby," he told her, pulling the joint from her lips as he did the closing motion of sealing the edge to the roll. She watched as he did the final step, twisting down the free edge into a tight swirl before he presented it with the filtered end between his fingertips. "All done." 

In front of (Y/N) was the stereotypical joint that she had seen in the few films that showed as much. The paper was translucent in the way that she could clearly see it was filled from the inside with dark, green flakes. The filtered edge was tapered down into a small funnel, leaving the head of the roll trumpeting out, thick with the ground up weed. 

"That was fast," (Y/N) muttered, wanting to reach out and touch, but too scared. 

"I've gotten pretty good, I can't lie," he joked with her, pressing his lips to the back of her head. A paused settled again before he spoke to her, his head still dipped down as he murmured, "Y'still feeling alright, darling? Still want to, or do y'want to go to bed and watch a movie instead?" 

Examining the joint in front of her, the thick scent of the weed surrounding her with the heat of Harry's chest at her back, she nodded her head. "I still want to." 

Dropping an arm to wrap around her waist from behind, Harry hugged her to him for a moment. "Grab a jacket then, and we'll go out back for a second, yeah?" 

"Outside?" she asked, turning in his hold. 

"Don't want it stinking up the house, right?" He looked at her with a raised brow, already stepping towards the closet in search of his own coat. "We'll be fast, baby, 's alright." 

(Y/N) supposed he was onto something, realizing that she had never been struck by the heavy scent like she would figure if he had smoked in his bedroom. As long as no one complained, it wasn't a bad idea to head outback for a second. It would be nice to take in deep breaths in between the smoke too, she figured. 

With a set of slippers on her feet, and a thick hoodie on her body, she followed Harry out the back door, ending on the back patio. He sat on the stoop at her feet, patting the space next to him. 

"Warm enough?" he asked, moonlight waning above their heads. 

Snuggling closer to his side, she nodded her head. "I'm alright, thank you. Are you warm?" 

Despite the unzipped jacket on his form and the thin t-shirt underneath, Harry gave her a small smile. "'M good, baby." 

Flicking out a lighter and the joint from his pocket, he sparked the flame with a flick of his fingers. 

He ran the spark over the trumpeted tip of the joint, his face warming in the firelight glow. "We'll take it easy tonight, yeah?" he murmured, concentration on his hands, "I don't think it'll take much to get y'there, so we probably won't finish this but we'll save the rest for another time if you want." 

She watched as he rotated the edge of the joint over the flame, evenly burning the tip. "Are you not going to have any?" 

"I will," he assured her, "But, I want to make sure I can take care of you. I won't be having too much." 

Having a deja vu moment, (Y/N) was reminded of how it felt to be sitting in his lap as he fed her wine, keeping his own head clear while he let her run wild. 

With the end of the joint glowing a warm orange, Harry put the lighter away. He ashed the very tip away, revealing cool lavender smoke twisting through the air with a heady scent clinging to the particles. 

"Want the first go?" he asked, tipping the roll towards her in an offer. 

"No, no," she answered immediately, "You first." 

His smile was lopsided as he agreed, pulling the joint to his mouth. She watched as he tucked the filtered end between his lips, taking in a shallow inhale with the fiery end glowing to life. His chest expanded as he inhaled. He only pulled the roll away from his lips when his chest was puffed with smoke, a lingering second passing before he exhaled, plumes of dancing smoke drifting through the air. The heavy, thick aroma of the weed surrounded them. 

(Y/N) couldn't pull her eyes from him as the smoke seeped from between his lips, a thin, violet filter hazing his features. The moon above seemed to catch each particle, drowning the scene in cool toned shades, muted and closed. 

She waited for something to change in the way he looked, the way he acted. When the only thing he did was turn to her with a blink, once again offering the joint to her for a try, she wasn't sure what she had expected. 

"Do y'think y'can do that?" 

Her brows creased. "Do what?" 

Amusement molded his features as he tipped his chin towards his offering. "Taking a hit," he stated, "Inhaling, and everything." 

"I-I think so," she answered, carefully pulling the roll from his fingers. She hesitated before taking it to her lips, nervous to replicate his actions while he watched. "Do you feel any different?" 

His smile was warm as he shook his head. "No—probably won't be too different tonight. I've built my tolerance pretty high, so I'll be fine." 

"Oh," she sounded, feeling the slightest bit disappointed knowing that she wouldn't get the full experience of seeing him for what he was under the influence. Maybe sometime she could convince him to let it go. Focusing back on the joint, she stared intensely at the thin ribbon of smoke falling from the tip. "How do I inhale?" 

"Jus' breathe in, baby," Harry laughed, throwing an arm across her shoulders. He tucked her against his side, warming her through her layers. "Only take a little bit at a time, though. And, if y'need to cough, jus' let it happen. You'll be alright." 

Though it was only a few tiny rules, it felt like so much to remember, to keep track of while she was trying something so foreign.

"Wh-What if I take too much?" she muttered, worrying now the longer that she let it keep burning. She hoped she wasn't wasting everything he'd done for her. 

Harry paused, rolling her question around his head before answering. "You'll be alright," he assured her, "Jus' don't want you to take too much, or anything, that's all." 

The idea of taking too much scared her more than the other rules. She didn't know what too much was; how would she know if there was too much in her lungs, how would she know if she needed to pull back? 

"Can you help me?" she murmured, worry lacing through her tone. 

"I can hold it for you if you want?" he offered, though his option didn't seem so concrete as she had hoped. 

"You can't do more?" 

A small silence sat between them when he didn't answer right away. She looked to him, finding him looking at the joint between her fingers with a contemplative crease between his brows. 

"I might have an idea that we can try," he started, flicking his gaze to match hers. "Y'trust me, right?" 

Her nod was immediate. 

A small smile folded his lips as he took the joint from her hand. He brought the roll to his lips, taking in another deep inhale with his eyes fluttering as his chest expanded. The cherry brightened as he pulled in the smoke. As soon as he pulled it away from his mouth, he spoke to her in a muddled voice, a small streak of smoke escaping through his nose. 

"C'mere." 

(Y/N)'s eyes rounded out in confusion. She was already right here, right?

The arm Harry had thrown across her shoulders slithered around her form until his palm came to a cradle on her cheek. He pressed forward then, his lips parting just enough for (Y/N) to get the hint. 

He wanted to kiss her.

Fluttering her eyelids to a close, she leaned forward in an attempt to meet him halfway. Harry, with his hand on her cheek, stopped her short, a small distance left between them. 

With her eyes opening to slits, she found him looking to her with his own gaze trained on her lips. His tender hand on her cheek shifted until his thumb was resting in the full of her bottom lip. Tugging just slightly, he parted her pout into a small gape. Harry ripped his head, leaning just that much closer with his pursed lips. 

(Y/N) held her breath, her own mouth parted open as she felt soft plumes of smoke fan over her lips. His lips just barely grazed her own, pressing against the soft pillows as the smoke ghosted over her tongue, heady and thick.

Pulling away just enough with smoke still twirling around his features, he told her, "Breathe in, baby." 

His voice was still heavy in his throat, emulating the way he spoke in the morning. The detail gave (Y/N) something to focus on as she instinctually closed her mouth as if biting down, the smoke now contained to a thin veil between them. He kept his hand steady on her cheek as she inhaled the way she saw him do, her chest bloating as she filled her lungs with the gifted smoke. 

While she didn't feel the burning in her chest that she thought would accompany the smoke, she instead felt a thick heat in the back of her throat. She tried to mimic what she had seen Harry do, keeping the smoke in her lungs for a moment before exhaling, but she couldn't keep up when she felt her eyes begin to water. 

Unable to handle it much longer, (Y/N) released her breath in clumsy pants, embarrassed to be reacting so intensely right in Harry's face. Though, all he did was stay steady in his spot by her, thumbing at her chin and coaxing her through it. 

Tipping her head down, she finally coughed into her sleeve, eyes watering as she went with his hand falling to the slope of her neck. 

"'S alright, baby, jus' let it out," he murmured, his voice a gentle soothe, "You'll feel better in a second, love." 

By the time she regained her breath, there was a slight glaze over the back of her throat—not quite a tingle, but not entirely normal. Harry tipped his head down by then, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth with his palm spanning the shelf of her collarbones. 

"Y'alright?" he murmured, ever patient when he pulled away to match her eyes. 

Nodding her head, (Y/N) swallowed around her odd throat. "Was that alright?" she croaked, wet bottom lashes grazing the height of her cheekbone.

A fond smile molded Harry's features into soft curves. "Y'did jus' fine, lovebug. So proud of you for not getting scared," he praised her, thumb running over her warm skin, "Feels a little weird doesn't it?" 

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she nodded her head, watching as he ashed the joint they had probably let burn for just a touch too long. "Really weird," she told him earnestly, "My throat feels funny, but that's all so far."  

"Yeah? Want to keep going?" His eyes skated over her features, taking in every reaction, every minute stretch of her muscles. 

While she was sure there was something that would hit soon, she still felt comfortable enough to take a little more from him. (Y/N) answered with a small nod. 

"Same way we did before?"

Remembering the feel of his lips glancing across hers, the faint brush of the tip of his nose over hers, she could feel her skin simmering. "Yeah," she answered, hoping he thought the breathy quality of her voice was a lingering side effect of her coughing. 

He didn't look entirely fooled when that sly smile touched his lips. "Alright," he said, bringing the joint back up to his lips, "We'll do a couple more, then I think you're done, baby. That alright?" 

"That's alright," she murmured, "Thank you." 

This time, watching him taking in the long drag, (Y/N) knew what to expect when he turned to her. She allowed him to hover close enough that he was almost kissing her as he blew out another plume of smoke for her to inhale. When she took her time filling her lungs with the smoke, Harry tipped his head and smeared his lips over her cheek, kissing down her neck. 

She had more confidence this go around, coaxing herself through as Harry held her. That thick feeling in the back of her throat intensified as she closed her eyes, her chest expanding under her borrowed hoodie. 

"Doing good, baby," he murmured into her ear, pulling away to match her gaze, "Go ahead and breathe out, love. I think you're good." 

Following his direction, the lavender smoke twirled between them. Sucking in clean air, she filtered out her lungs. This time around, opening up her eyes to look up at the moonlight and the stars blinking over the inky canvas, things felt different. There was a bit of lethargy to her movements, even in the darting of her gaze. Her limbs felt as if there was extra weight attached, something heavy that slowed her before she even had a chance to move.

It was an odd feeling, something that she'd never experienced before or had anything of comparison to, but it wasn't unpleasant. She'd even say she liked it so far.

Harry seemed to pick up on the fact that she was edging into new territory as he watched over her, eyes sparking from amusement. "One more?" 

"Yeah," she settled, her lips feeling looser the more she sunk into the moment, "One more." 

"Wanna try by yourself?" he asked, taking his own small puff from the joint before he was angling it towards her. 

"Not by myself, no," she argued, still scared to be in charge of her own dosing. 

"I can hold it for you if y'want—take it back when you've had enough," Harry offered, letting a cloud leave his lips as he spoke. 

"Okay," she nodded, taking on his offer. 

"Open," he instructed, setting the filter of the joint between her lips, "Then jus' suck in, okay? You'll be able to feel it in the back of your throat, so stop if you've had enough and I haven't taken it back yet." 

(Y/N) wrapped her lips around the filter, taking in Harry's directions with absent ears. She couldn't imagine he wouldn't be able to catch herself and her intake before he did. 

Emulating what she'd seen from him before, she sucked in, her cheeks hollowing just enough to show off the shape of her cheekbones. The back of her throat warmed, embers igniting in a low burn. This was more than what Harry had given her before, but she didn't mind. This would be just enough,she figured.

At the perfect moment, Harry pulled away prompting her to breathe out the final cloud of smoke. He asked the joint once more, a small pile of grey dust having collected at their feet. 

A few huffed coughs fell from (Y/N)'s lips, unused to the feeling of gathering the smoke directly from the source. Harry wrapped his arm around her, tucking her into his side as she eased through the final intake. 

"How do you feel?" he asked her, voice low under the moonlight. 

Looking around, (Y/N) tried to find the answer to the question. 

It was an odd feeling, she decided. She felt both light and heavy at the same time, her head in the clouds with her body entirely anchored to the ground. Prickles poked at her skin, her limbs their own entity as she brought her hands into a bundle in her lap. 

There was no other way to describe it other than the fact that she felt high. 

"Good," she answered simply, "Different." 

"You'll get used to it, my love," he murmured into her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the space just before. 

"Do you feel different?" she asked, her voice heavy in her dry throat. 

"A little," Harry explained, stubbing out the cherry of the joint, "But, I think 's time we get inside before either of us freezes, don't you think?" 

"Yeah, yes."

It was when Harry let out a small huffed laugh that (Y/N) couldn't contain her own laughter. A loud peal fell from her lips. She wasn't even sure why she was laughing. That only made her laugh harder.

—————

"That is so funny," (Y/N) giggled to herself, clenching her hands in the fabric of her top lest she forget they were there. "Harry, did you see that?! It was funny!" 

He was back in the kitchen, working over the stove with a pot of noodles boiling away and a cheesey sauce working on the other burner, leaving (Y/N) to watch this movie all on her own. 

"Which part, baby?" he asked, his rumbling voice sounding farther away than she remembered. 

(Y/N) blinked, watching the brightly colored animated characters go across the television screen. "The one that was just on! With the cat on the piano!" 

How could he not have been paying attention? (Y/N) had never seen something so entertaining before, if she was being honest. This had to be her new favorite movie—she just needed to remember what it was called. 

"Oh," he sounded, "I did see that, sorry, lovebug. It was very funny." 

"Good," she responded absently, craning her neck to look over the back of the couch towards where he stood in the kitchen, "I'm so hungry, H." 

"I know," he laughed, looking at her with his skin seemingly glowing and the smile of a prince. "'M almost done, okay?" 

"How close is ‘almost’?" 

His smile only widened at her line of questioning. (Y/N) mimicked that look without a thought. 

"About five minutes. Can you wait that long?" 

"I'll try." She couldn't help the pout that took her features. She had told him she was hungry what felt like hours ago, and she still was waiting for food. He wouldn't even let her help either, but she could argue that she would have eaten already if he just let her follow him to the kitchen.

Raising his brows, Harry fixed his attention back on the television screen. "Oh, look. The little cat is back, baby." 

(Y/N)'s attention took a one-eighty as she did the same to face the TV once more. Harry was right, the kitten was back on screen. She didn't want to miss this. 

The high had hit her at full force only minutes after Harry had taken her inside, setting off a firing squad of so many different feelings (Y/N) had never experienced before. She had so much energy, but at the same time she wanted to sleep. She wanted to kiss and hold her boyfriend, but also had to make a point to remember where her limbs were. She wanted to eat and drink as much water as she could, but couldn't find the attention to do either of those things. In the back of her mind, she even debated on writing some for the course paper she needed to work on before the midterm exam next month—her mind swirling with ideas, but they were all out of order. 

How she decided on watching a movie instead of any of her other raucous ideas, she wasn't sure, but she was happy with the choice. This way, she was able to wrap up in the soft pink throw blanket that she left in his bedroom, sink into the new feeling, and make out with Harry when he was done cooking.

(It had really been Harry's prompting and prodding that led her to the conclusion that yes, she wanted to watch a movie and cuddle up with him while she ate, but he was happy with letting her assume it had been her own choice).

Time moved in mysterious ways since the high had hit, making it hard to decipher if it had been five hours or mere five minutes before Harry came to her with bowls of pasta and a buttery warm sauce poured over top. 

"That looks so good, H," she bubbled, overjoyed at the sight of food, "Thank you so much!" 

"You're welcome, baby," he smiled, "Do you need more water?" 

"No, just—Hold on." (Y/N) stumbled over her words, organizing her thoughts as steadily as she could and ultimately failing in favor of reaching towards Harry.

The second he settled into the cushion at her side, she had his jaw cradled in her palms, lips puckered and pressed against the corner of his mouth. A laugh bubbled through his lips, his smile felt under her kiss. 

"I missed," she laughed along with him, pulling away to watch his eyes light up and creases form around his smile, "Sorry." 

"'S alright," he beamed, cheeks still cradled in her palms, "Jus' slow down and try again." 

Though she didn't exactly have the wherewithal to follow his directions, she definitely tried her best. This time, she felt as if she went slower as she leaned in, pressing her lips to Harry's. He reciprocated her affection in soft kisses, (Y/N) melting the longer she reveled in his touch.

Her skin practically sang everywhere he touched her, taking her back to her wonderings of if there would be something extra to their affection while under the influence. That prickling that she had felt in her limbs just when the smoke started taking effect, now only occurred when he ran his fingertips over her skin or held her hand in his. The buzzing made her smile into the kiss, the pinpoint tickling under her skin.

"What's got you so smiley, hm?" Harry asked against her mouth, pulling away despite the tender hold she had on his cheeks. 

She beamed up at him with an easy grin, a rose colored glaze over her vision of him. "I just like touching you," she told him, "It tickles." 

He raised his brows in reaction, biting back a smile. "It tickles?" 

Watching the clear amusement on his face, (Y/N) couldn't help her own smile from turning into bubbling laughter. "Uh-huh," she barely answered, everything else dissolving around her laughter. 

"Now, why are you laughing?" 

Harry's investigation only proved to make the entire moment funnier to (Y/N) as she doubled over. Snuggling into his chest, she clung to him with her laughter muffled against his shoulder. "I don't know," she giggled, barely sure that the words even left her brain. 

"Oh, lovebug," he crooned, wrapping his arms around her, "What am I going to do with you?" 

A contented smile landed on (Y/N)'s features as she settled down. She burrowed against him, smushing her cheek on his shoulder and bundling her arms between their bodies. "Love me." 

The tip of Harry's nose skimmed the top of her head. "I already do that," he told her, words fanning across the strands of hair crowning her. 

"I love you too," (Y/N) answered simply. 

The cryptic sense of time she held struck once again when Harry drew away from her. Her body had relaxed into his as if she had napped on him for hours, but she could have been nestled in his arms for a max of three minutes for all she knew. 

"Are y'still hungry? Or do y'want me to save your noodles for later?" 

With that, (Y/N) swore her mind had been blown. "You brought me food, I totally forgot!" Twirling too fast for her brain to keep up, she was almost dizzy by the time she saw the bowl of pasta Harry had set in front of her, complete with salty cheese layered on top just like she asked. "That looks so good, H! Thank you." 

Harry gave her a small smile. "You're welcome, baby." 

A minute sense of deja vu niggled in the back of her head for just a second, but (Y/N) chose to ignore it in favor of twirling her fork through the spaghetti noodles.  

Had cheese always tasted this good? 

—————

"Harry, are you listening? This song is beautiful." 

"I know, love. 'S perfect, huh?" 

The drawl of Harry's response had (Y/N) peeking up at him. She found him lying with his eyes closed, mouth parted in a small gape, though his hand on her back never slowed the soothing circle he had curated.

"Are you tired?" (Y/N) whispered. 

A slight smile touched the corner of his mouth at her question. "A little. Are you?" 

(Y/N) paused, evaluating herself to give him an honest answer. "Yeah. A little." His heartbeat was set to a soothing pace under her ear, slowing into a steady rhythm as if urging him to sleep. "Are you almost asleep?" 

Though she could see his eyes were closed and his breathing was coming in soft puffs, Harry didn't slack on the duties he had taken on for the night. Since pulling her to bed and setting a playlist to softly sing through his bedroom, he had kept his cuddling hold on her firm and anchoring. He answered her every time she spoke to him and even crawled his way to the bedside table to skip the song whenever she started to whine over the melody. 

"A little," he smiled, his voice a deep rumble, "Are you?"

Another pause. "Maybe," (Y/N) answered honestly. She could fall asleep right now if she wanted, but she also wanted to keep listening to music. 

Harry hummed, his chest vibrating under her cheek. "Is there anything y'want before y'get sleepy? More water or a snack?" 

What did she need before she could peacefully fall asleep? 

Blinking her gaze up at him, she took in the tip of his nose, the curving pillow of his cupid's bow and the creamy texture of his skin. 

"A kiss? Please?" 

At that, Harry cracked his eyes open to peer down at her. "Y'haven't had enough of those yet?" 

"Never," she answered, completely honest. Harry still plucked a smile onto his lips at her response. 

"Can't blame you, darling—me neither." 

Shifting between the sheets, Harry used his free hand to cup (Y/N) cheek and tip her chin as he dipped down. He sealed his lips over hers in a loving kiss, nothing more than a soft pressing of their lips. She swore she could feel every ridge, every dip, every plane of his touch, catalogued to her memory though she hoped she would recall it in less fuzzy detail. 

"Love you," she murmured between breaths, immediately planting her lips across his once more. 

Harry smiled into the contact. He broke the rhythm of her kisses even further when he drew away, ignoring the way she chased after him with a craned neck and puckered lips.

"I love you too, lovebug." His eyes scanned over her features not for the first time that night, though something softened in his gaze. "You had a good time tonight?"

Walking through the lavender veiled events, everything was just a bit hazy and herbal, (Y/N)'s smile only grew. 

"Uh-huh," she beamed up at him, feeling herself settle into him that much more, "Thank you for showing me." 

Thumbing at the height of her cheekbone, Harry surged forward to press a delicate kiss to the bridge of her nose. "'M happy y'feel good, darling. That's all I want when we try new things." 

"I'm always happy when I'm with you." 

(Y/N) blinked as she saw his face light up with a bubbly smile, creases appearing by his eyes, dimples thumbed into his cheeks, and a slight flush over his nose. 

Had his smile always been that pretty?

—————

eeeek! so happy I could get a new aster blurb out for everyone this year! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and lmk if yu have any ideas for anything you'd like to see!

[linkspooky]

GOOD SIBLING, BAD SIBLING: THE FIRE SIBLINGS VS. STARFIRE AND BLACKFIRE

What could two siblings born in a royal family where one is scapegoated and the other treated like a golden child possibly have in common? More than you think.

This post is making the rounds again and I thought it would be fun to make a longer post going into depth why I think Starfire and Blackfire avert the common trope of good sibling bad sibling, by comparing it to something that fails to avoid that trope. If you like doomed siblings or bad victims then click the readmore.

Good Sibling, Bad Sibling

To start off with I'm going to explain what I mean when I use the words Good Sibling, Bad Sibling. It's a trope that's an extention of what I call Good Victim, Bad Victim. It's when a story compares two victims of abuse, and one victim is a more acceptable victim while the other is a bad victim because they're not perfect suffering Cinderellas.

Victims of course still have agency in their responses, they're still culpable if their actions go on to hurt someone, they don't have a right to hurt others, but I think it's also true most people are quick to judge victims for not being strong enough to endure abuse when they haven't been in the same situation.

It's easy from an outsider's perspective to be "I wouldn't do that". It comes from a pretty shallow view that villainizes abusers and renders them as inhuman monsters when the truth is all abusers are still humans and anyone can fall into patterns of abuse whether they mean to or not.

One reason I hate this trope besides like, the fact characters that aren't perfect victims are often considered "too far gone" and murdered by the narrative, it's also just really shallow. In the end it usually comes down to the victim getting love and support healing and the victim who didn't have support getting worse. Which is like, a no duh of a situation. A person without friends or a support system or love in their life tends to not get better? Who woulda guessed.

Good Sibling, Bad Sibling shows up when two siblings are raised under the same house, sometimes even in the same abusive circumstances and one is a hero and the other is a villain. Another version of this tropes is the fact that if there are twins one of them is usually going to be a good twin and the other is an evil twin.

I can understand where this trope comes from because like siblings are a naturally close relationship, so it makes it a deeply personal conflict when a character's sibling turns against them. I don't even think it's a necessarily bad trope, if both characters are humanized equally which almost never happens.

Examples of this trope: Gammorra and Nebula, Mai and Maki, Shoto and Toya, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, Itachi and Sasuke.

And of course, Starfire and Blackfire, and Zuko and Azula.

My goal is to show by breaking the source material, New Teen Titans and the Avatar Cartoon down the former averts the trope and the latter plays it straight.

The Golden Child and the Scapegoat

A common trope used in dysfuctional families is dividing children between a golden child, and a scapegoat. The parent often projects all of their positive qualities on a golden child, along with high expectations. While the Scapegoat has all their negative qualities projected on them, and is often blamed unfairly for the dysfunction in the house. They are scapegoated so to speak, and constantly the victim of things like shifting goalposts.

It's like a more extreme version of playing favorites with an extra dollop of abuse on top. Also to be clear, this is an abusive dynamic where both sides are abused. They're not being seen as parents by their parents, and they are essentially being pitted against each other. There are plenty of parents who will be just as harsh on their perceived favorite. Being the golden child doesn't really safeguard you from abuse, even if it seems to be the more favorable position to be in.

Also in general when discussing abuse, arguing over who has it worse is kind of a pointless argument.

Also sometimes the playing favorites is intentional. By splitting up siblings and putting them against each other, the parent gets more control over each of them like a divide and conquer strategy. After all an abusers primary objective is to maintain control over someone by patterns of abusive behavior meant to wear down their sense of resistance.

With that being established, comparing the two royal families is interesting because the "hero" sibling is the golden child in one version, and the "villain" sibling is the scapegoat in another. If anything this proves that both forms of abuse can be the reason for a villain's tragic backstory.

STARFIRE AND AZULA THE PERFECT PRINCESS

Starfire might appear at first to be the total opposite of Azula. One of them is a hero who's like entire character is built around her overflowing emotions and the love she feels for people. While Azula is cold, calculating, and often treats her own friends like pawns instead of people. Starfire also doesn't repeat the cycle of abuse, while Azula does.

If you look past that there's a lot of comparisons to draw between the two of them. They are both raised in warrior, war-like cultures. The Tamaraneans may be all about that peace and love but like, an early conflict with Starfire's is that because she was raised on a planet as a warrior she doesn't understand why other heroes have a no-kill rule.

Azula is also a product of her culture. To begin with she's raised as a child soldier, of a nationalist and imperialist nation who are actively colonizing half the war. Azula also contributes significantly to the war effort, and never shows any doubt to the values of her culture.

As a brief summary of their early characters, Azula is princess of the fire nation which went to war with the world. She's the daughter of the Fire Nation's absolute ruler. She's however, the second born and not ever expected to inherit the throne. She is introduced in season one when Zuko vents to an unconscious Aang about how everything has always been easy for his sister. In Season two she becomes the main antagonist, first tasked with retrieving her brother, and then decides to try to capture the avatar on her own. I'd also be remiss to mention that Azula is the most personal antagonist the heroes face, because Ozai is more of a final boss. Starfire is an alien that was sold by her sister into slavery essentially (Blackfire is not a good person). She escaped to earth and became a member of the Teen Titans where she found a new family and worked as a hero. She's basically an immigrant to earth and there's a lot of culture shock. Starfire eventually returns home to her planet when it's in danger, and faces her sister as an antagonist.

This is another way in which they differ, Azula is the primary antagonist and negative foil to Zuko, and Blackfire is the primary antagonist and negative foil to Starfire.

While both basically have the tentative position of the favorite, while their sibling is demonized, it's made clear to them that they're not actually "safe" with their parents. Both sets of parents are awful and the origin of all abuse within the household. These characters also receive a slap in the face after being in denial for a long time that these parents will even mistreat their "favorite" child and treat them like an object.

Though, I would argue that Starfire is more in denial about her parent's abuse and will still see them as loving parents, while Azula is aware that her father could turn on her and strives for perfection to keep herself "safe".

Note Starfire is still saying this stuff after her parent's sold her into a political marriage.

Ozai: My decision is final. Azula: You ... you can't treat me like this! You can't treat me like Zuko! Ozai: Azula, silence yourself. Azula: But it was my idea to burn everything to the ground! I deserve to be by your side!

I've seen some people's unsympathetic readings of this line that Azula throws Zuko under the bus, but like... Azula doesn't want to be abused like her brother. What a monster. Let's see how you react when the father you thought was safe turns on you, I think most people would say or do anything not to get hurt.

I don't want to sound too critical of Starfire because she has her reasons (Blackfire abused her severely) but both Starfire and Azula seem to justify their parent's abuse to themselves by saying Blackfire or Zuko did something to cause the abuse. Sliding the blame from the abuser to the abuse victim. They participate in the parent's scapegoating of the the least favorite child.

I'd like to point out though that the ultimate cause of the situation is the parents themselves. The abuse started when they are children, and expecting Starfire and Azula as children to like, go out of their way to protect their abused siblings is expecting a lot out of them.

Like Azula is afraid to lose her position as the favorite because Ozai has demonstrated before that he'll horribly mutilate his children. Who would have guessed. Blackfire severely abused Starfire in their childhood, so she sees Blackfire as her enemy and not her parents who would have guessed.

In general too, expecting Starfire and Azula to be perfect siblings in an abusive household, and always protect their siblings, is once again a lot to expect from literal children who don't have fully developed brains.

However, I would say in both cases, they both try harder to connect with their sibling. This is where I get angry anons in my inbox, yes I'm going to make the argument that Azula was a better sibling than Zuko was to her. No I also don't expect Zuko to be a perfect big brother when actively being abused by Ozai. No I don't think Zuko owes Azula anything because she too prioritized her own well being over him that's what abuse victims do.

I'm just making the argument with in text examples that Azula does more things to help Zuko, and Starfire actively tried to befriend Blackfire before the sibling abuse started. In fact I think that's what makes both relationships incredibly tragic. It's not really two siblings who love each other on opposite sides of a conflict. It's that Blackfire and Zuko can't see past their own abuse, and can't love their siblings.

Once again I'm not blaming Zuko for priotizing himself, but I also think it's unfair to critcize Azula for taking care of herself and not sticking her neck out for Zuko when they were both being abused. Wow why are people extra harsh on Azula and extra forgiving on Zuko. It's almost like women are always expected to be perfect nurturers, and when they're not allowed to be complex human beings with flaws. My old enemy the Madonna Whore complex you strike again!

Anyway onto the examples. The big one is that Azula invited Zuko back after Ba Sing Se, seemed genuine about wanting to help resstore his honor. This is also a sacrifice on her part, because as I said even when he was banished Zuko didn't lose the title of crown prince. His status as the heir was never in question and like, letting Zuko stay a prisoner in Ba Sing Se would have ensured his inheritance would fall to her.

Why don't you let him decide, Uncle? [To Zuko.] I need you, Zuko. I've plotted every move of this day, [Makes a fist.] this glorious day in Fire Nation history, and the only way we win is together. At the end of this day, you will have your honor back. You will have Father's love. You will have everything you want.

Now common criticisms people use to argue that Azula has good intentions.

1) Azula needed Zuko to turn the tides in battle. While Azula was kind of in a corner in the fight where Zuko turned she also had Mai and Ty Lee and the entire Dai Li on her side so I don't think she'd really assume she needed Zuko to defeat the avatar. Also she starts getting backed into a corner long after she made the offer to Zuko so she had no way of knowing that ahead of time. Also, also, she might have just been backed into a corner for the sake of drama, making it more impactful when Zuko shows up and turns the tide.

2) Azula somehow knew she might not kill the avatar and needed Zuko to take the fall. This one doesn't make sense because Azula doesn't have any idea that Aang didn't die, until Zuko hints at it. After that point, Zuko kept it a secret from her and refused to tell her even though the truth being revealed would impact both of them. Like for Azula to know ahead of time she'd fail to kill the avatar when she made her offer to Zuko, and then bring him back to take the fall would require some 4d chess on her end.

Two more examples are Azula goes out of her way to warn Zuko that he might get in trouble for visint Iroh so often. On the Beach she's the one who comforts him and retrieves him from their old vacation house. When they're in front of the fire and Zuko is troubled she asks him what's wrong and even asks if she's the one at fault. Whereas Zuko mocks her for not having problems when Azula confesses her mother thought she was a monster he doesn't say anything in response.

In Tales of the New Teen Titans we get a closer look at Starfire and Blackfire's childhood, and we're shown Starfire tried hard at first to get along with her sister. Starfire also, in spite of being a victim of Blackfire's abuse went out of her way to save her life twice.

Something Blackfire responded with by immediately trying to kill her. Blackfire, you are a piece of work. In both cases, I'd argue Starfire and Azula try at least to have a positive relationship with their siblings. Attempts that are almost completely one-sided. I don't want to demonize Zuko too much though, because as I said when you're actively being abused it's number one easy to see the other sibling as being better off, and only natural you would prioritize yourself.

Also, Blackfire was an adult and continued the abuse later on in life when she had more agency, whereas Zuko for most of the tv show was a minor and you shouldn't hold minors to adult standards. If I judge characters for having an imperfect reaction to abuse, or not being perfect siblings I can no longer call myself a bad victim enjoyer.

Both Starefire and Azula as I said, participate in the scapegoating. In both cases it's out of a desire to maintain their spot as the golden child, because they want to assume they're safe.

Starfire actively defends her aprents all the time, while insisting that Blackfire was evil to begin with. Which is understandable again because Blackfire's abuse is just so much worse than anything Azula does to Zuko. It's expecting a little too much for Starfire to see the humanity in her abuser when she's a lifelong victim.

Like little blackfire things: Killing her sister's pet.

Phsyical abuse, actively trying to kill her even before they were on opposite sides of a war.

Selling her into Slavery (where Starfire was sexually abused).

It's extra tragic because both are essentially blaming the other for their parent's abuse. Blackfire takes out her pain on Starfire as revenge for her parent's favoritism, even though it's not her fault. Starfire demonizes Blackfire because she refuses to confront the fact that her parent's are abusive.

This is behavior Azula engages in as well. If you read into her actions, you can tell she blames Zuko for his abuse, you can't treat me like Zuko, while also believing that if she can just make Zuko act more like a prince he won't provoke his father anymore. Once again, sliding the blame on the abused rather than the abuser makes Azula feel more safe, because she also believes if she's perfect Ozai will leave her alone.

Zuko and Blackfire: The Banished Prince and the DIsowned Princess

This is another pair of seeming opposites. Blackfire is essentially Starfire's most personal arch enemy, occupying the same spot as Azula. Zuko is a villain for awhile, but honestly he's bad at it, and until the end of Season 1 he's so ineffectual he's more comic relief. Blackfire like Azula is insanely competent and causes a lot of genuine harm to the protagonists, and is far far worse than Zuko or even Azula obviously. I mean I've already listed some of the things she did above, but she also let her planet be conquered by aliens, orchestrated not one but two cues, and tried to have her parents blown up on live television.

However, both characters are effectively disowned and banished from their country for their inability to fit in. Both are banished and excessively punished.

Blackfire is the first born princess of Tamaran and she should have been heir to her family, but she was stripped of her inheritance because she was born disabled. Every Tamaranean can fly except her because of a sickness that nearly killed her when she was younger.

That's right everyone, the disabled representation you've been waiting for the sibling abuser and war-mongerer.

I think Blackfire's abuse covers a common way parent's treat their disabled children, where they don't want to make accomodations and make it clear they' don't want to take care of a disabled child and spend all their attention on their abled children instead. This trope is often called "Better dead than disabled."

Also I'd be remiss to point out that Tamaraneas have access to hover technology so Blackfire's disability doesn't inhibit her in any way. Like damn, parents will do anything but try to accomondate their disabled child.

Zuko is punished needlessly for a small offense of speaking out of turn in a meeting for not wanting to sacrifice young soldiers, and then refusing to fight back against his father in an angi kai. At which point he's banished and sent on a fool's errand of hunting the avatar.

Blackfire's reason for being banished is uhhh, because she tried to kill her sister in combat training, but also she was stripped of her inheritance just before being born disabled. She awas punished for things she couldn't control before she did anything wrong.

Both siblings also try to make up for their trauma and perceived deficiencies by constantly projecting violence. Blackfire is like, obsesed with war, Zuko's definition of honor is more focused around glory gained by combat more particularly killing the avatar in the first season. Both of them actively participated in colonization, Blackfire helped colonize her home planet, Zuko burned Kyoshi village and helped Azula with Ba Sing Se. Blackfire brought back an army to colonize her home planet, then attempts a military coup of a rather peaceful reign her parents secured not once but twice.

Both are blamed for their parent's abuse, it's Blackfire's fault because she was a violent and unlikable child she made it impossible to love her. It's Zuko's fault, he just didn't try hard enough to please his father and fit in as a prince.

While I may sound overly critical of Avatar's writing I do like how they gave Zukio a lot of chances to make mistakes and screw up, and instead of condemning him or dismissing him as too far gone they kept reinforcing that he always had a chance to better himself.

Both characters are really jealous and tend to blame the other sibling who's treated as the favorite for their abuse.

Zuko: "You're like my sister. Everything always came easy to her. She is a firebending prodigy and everyone adores her. My father says she was born lucky. He says I was lucky to be born... I don't need luck though - I don't want it. I've always had to struggle and fight and that's made me strong. It's made me who I am".

Though to give credit to Blackfire, while as a child she blamed Starfire for everything and used her as a punching bag, as an adult she seems to understand that the cause of their conflict was their parents and in fact tries to explain this to Starfire multiple times. So she's matured enough to see that Starfire is ultimately a victim too.

As I said too, Zuko is a child, he's also like still actively being victimized by Ozai while at the same time under the notion that if he does the right thing he can earn Ozai's love for 3/4ths of the show it's easy to understand why he'd blame Azula for his position as the scapegoat instead of Ozai.

Zuko never attempts to convince Azula to change sides with him, or considers that an option. When Azula is like, falling through the air about to die he doesn't tell his friends piloting the bison to try to save her. His stated goal when fighting Azula in the fignal agni kai is to put her in her place. That's literally a line he says.

Zuko, the empath when noticing she's having a total mental breakdown says "She's kind of off" and decides to take advantage of that to win the fight. When Azula finally breaks down and is screaming and crying, he just kind of sits there looking bored.

I'm not arguing that Zuko owes her anything that's a personal opinion, just that it's inconsistent with Zuko's writing. Zuko is presented to us as a character revolving around redemption, that learns that love and forgiveness are key to growth and healing and then just... doesn't apply those same lessons he learned to his sister.

That same kind of hypocrisy is present in Starfire, but it's like intentional. Starfire's inability to empathize with her sister, when her entire character revolves around empathy and love shows just how damaged her relationship with her sister is. Even then Starfire like, saves her life twice and was never able to kill her. With far more reason to not empathize with her sister, while blatantly hating her, Starfire still has that tiny bit of empathy for her. It's also like, Tamaraneans are a violent warrior people, and they're also extremely emotional and full of love, Starfire embodies both sides of that.

It's not just Blackfire either, it takes Starfire a long time to learn that she can't just kill criminals (again understandable, a cultural thing, in fact people like Dick are a little bit too harsh on her for this instead of trying to explain and understand where she's coming from). It is consistent with Starfire's writing, she is openly loving, but she's not the team mom that's Donna.

Zuko like, not even trying to redeem Azula or just like, not really caring is inconsistent with the writing that's trying to tell us that deep down Zuko is a caring person that is going to help heal the fire nation by showing them a better path forward. Zuko's double standards towards his sister, and his unfairly blaming her for his father's abuse is not written as a flaw. Blackfire unfairy blaming Starfire for her parent's abuse is a flaw. Blackfire's abuse of Starfire is her own fault, which is something she continues to do well into adulthood.

Which is why it's kind of all the more baffling, that Blackfire is way worse, is humanized a lot more by her narrative than Azula is. Now we reach the final part.

The Final Agni Kai

Now to trash on everyone's favorite scene that I absolutely despise as the end to Zuko and Azula's arc, while praising what is my favorite arc in the whole New Teen Titans manga. In the series finale of Avatar, Zuko after reuniting with Iroh is tasked with challenging Azula for the throne in the Agni Kai. They fight, and Zuko comes out on top.

In what is essentially the final fight between Starfire and Blackfire, Starfire is alerted by her brother that things are going down on her planet. She leaves earth with the Teen Titans and returns to her planet for a second time. Where she learns that she is being sold by her parents into an arranged marriage, as a part of a peace agreement with the invading force of her planet. Something that Starfire does not take well too, because she's currently in love with her longtime boyfriend Dick Grayson.

I'm going to skip over the Soap opera that is Starfire and Dick, because it's soon revealed that Blackfire too has returned in order to orchestrate a coup to overthrow her parents once more.

In the end Blackfire reveals her plan that she's set up an ion bomb to hold the whole planet hostage unless her parents abdicate and declare her ruler. At which point, Blackfire succeeds.

Both plots involve the scapegoat finally reclaiming their heritage and beating their sibling for the first time, one is the hero, the other is the villain... or are they?

There's a reason I love one arc and hate the other. It's that Blackfire is eventually allowed to be her own seperate character from Starfire, whereas Azula is ultimately just a plot object to strengthen Zuko's arc. This is shown in just, the amount of focus Zuko and his inner world are compared to Azula, how he has one of the most lovingly tailored redemption arcs shown throughout the entire show whereas Azula's mental breakdown is rushed through the entire end.

However, to further illustrate this let me show how well the New Teen Titans humanizes Koriand'r. To begin with, we see their childhood from both perspectives, to show both are biased narrators. Starfire represents her sister as being born evil, while Blackfire believes Starfire being the favorite took all her parent's love away from her.

Blackfire also gets, sympathetic motivations that demonstrate she's also capable of love and craves it deep down but suppresses it because she believes she needs to be a weapon of war. Something that is directly stated by the comics and only like implied by offhand by the avatar show.

In fact Blackfire gets to star in her own comic which tells a story where she is temporarily blinded after her first defeat to Starfire. After feeling helpess she feels like she's lost the will to fight, the will to kill, the will to rule which is how she defines herself.

Blackfire survives with one of her soldiers who doesn't abandon her, and helps teach with her rehabilitation teaching her how to fight while blind. Their relationship grows so close that Dorion feels like the first person that ever took care of Blackfire, and she breaks down and admits how much she wants to be loved. She almost seems willing to give up her conquest.

However, Blackfire misses out on the chance to be loved because her fanatically devoted soldier tricks her into killing him in order to show her that she still has the edge to kill.

This also clues us into more complex motivations for Blackfire. She is actively a patriot who believes that her father's rule is weak (she turns out to be right) and believes that conquering her planet is in effect her way of saving it. She has to put on this persona because the cause is more important than anything in her life, even love.

(This also contrasts Starfire who has no interest in being a ruler and runs away to live on earth with her love).

Also I'd be remiss to mention at the end of this particular arc Starfire doesn't forgive her sister or reconcile with her. I've never believed she owed her that. The arc just shows that Blackfire a human being (or a tamaranean I guess) who is capable of both good and evil. That her motivations are more complex than being a power hungry usurper and she actually can have good intentions. She's more of an example of the 'Well-intentioned Extremist" trope.

It's the complete opposite of Azula who's reduced to the mad queen stereotype in the end. Which is another knock against Avatar, Blackfire might not be the best disabled representation in the world but as I said parent's only treating their disabled child as a burden and that disabled child watching their parents take care of and love their abled children is a real thing that happens all the time. The comic also goes to show how competent Blackfire is in sipte of her disability.

Whereas, I can't imagine what it feels like to see yourself in Azula's mental breakdown, only to watch her last moment on the show have her offered no support, and not even a single sign that she might recover one day. Blackfire's motivations are tied to her abuse, but she's not demonized for being disabled in fact she's fantastically competent. Azula's like, readuced to an inhuman, ugly monster, and her mental illness takes all of her agency away and once again we're shown no hope for recovery.

Azula is reduced to a screaming incoherent mess. She has basically no agency in the end. Not only does Blackfire have agency, but like she has acutal points to make? The story values her point of view and gives credence to it? Myand'r is a weak ruler. She's not wrong when she says that their parents are the source of abuse for both of them. In fact, the narrative directly states the ones who started the abuse are their parents while it only implies it again with Azula and Zuko. Maybe the reason so many people deny that Azula is an abuse victim is because we only see the abuse from Zuko's perspective not Azula's. Whereas we get both conflicting accounts of Blackfire and Starfire's childhood and the narrative trusts us to judge things with nuance rather than needing it fed to us.

The planet has been invaded twice now. She's also, like, more popular with her father's weak rule?

Also like the story shows us why Blackfire will make a better ruler than Starfire. The narrative doesn't really illustrate how Zuko will be a better ruler, it just follows the "good king" trope.

I mean it's a fun little parallel that both Zuko and Blackfire are both an exiled prince and princess respectively, who return home to take back their throne. On one hand though, it feels like Zuko does it out of like, wanting to reclaim his birthright, or his feeling that the throne is his destiny. That's part of Blackfire's motivation too, but as I said, Zuko never states onscreen how he plans to improve the fire nation, Blackfire's got like actual policies.

Which is where the difference ultimately lies, Blackfire and Starfire are ultimately characterized as two sides of the same coin who need to come together to save the planet. Killing blackfire or putting her down won't fix shit or end the cycle of abuse on Tamaran. Blackfire and Starfire are much like Tamaran defined by love and war, and there's love and war in Starfire, and love and war in Blackfire and they both need to find a balance between the two.

This is in contrast to Zuko and Azula who's final conflict is just putting Azula down like a mad dog, quite literally. Blackfire is allowed to be human, with good and bad traits, and like actual points to make whereas Zuko's narrative only cares about Zuko's thoughts, and in general instead of coming together the narrative seems to think the only way that Zuko can triumph is if Azula is dragged down into the mud.

Blackfire is a character, and Azula is ultimately just a plot obstacle.

So that's my long ramble on a sibling relationship I absolutely love, and a sibling relationship I can't love no matter how much I like Zuko and Azula individually.