#but they like to know *whats happening* in case they have to step in to stop other innocents getting caught in the crossfire

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

rafe having no boundaries and grabbing his girlfriend's ass in front of family during a family trip

A little Rafe and Sarah being siblings

—

‘’Can you not do that here?’’ Sarah grimaced after Rafe wandered in and smacked your ass on his way to the fridge. ‘’We’re cooking. That’s gross.’’ 

You and Sarah had woken up earlier than everyone else and decided to whip some pancake batter. They were coming along nicely, slowly piling up on a plate.

Rafe rolled his eyes in response and leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘’Chill out, Sarah. I’m just saying ‘good morning’ to my girl.’’

Sarah scoffed, giving him a glare as you flipped out the pancake in the pan. ‘’Well, keep your 'good mornings' to yourself until after breakfast and when I’m not around, alright? I’ve seen and heard enough things I didn’t want to.’’ 

Your cheeks turned red and you kept your eyes on the pan, embarrassed as memories of Sarah catching you topless in their pool and all the times she heard you through the walls of Tannyhill before Rafe got his own place. You’ll never apologize to her enough. 

‘’Stop acting like a prude. I’ve heard you on the phone with that pogue you’re seeing. Ahh, John B., I wish your fingers were inside me. I’m so close, I need to—’’ 

Sarah grabbed a blueberry and threw it at her brother, her face burning hot at his mockery. If eyes could kill, Rafe would be a dead man. She looked murderous. 

Rafe smirked, unfazed by the blueberry that was thrown his way. He crossed his arms crossed over his broad chest, and his blue eyes flickered with amusement. ‘’These walls are old. Did you think I couldn’t hear you?’’ 

To avoid a Sarah vs Rafe duel from happening, you asked Rafe if he wanted chocolate chips or blueberries in his pancakes. You already knew the answer, but you needed to defuse the bomb before it would explode. 

‘’Blueberries. You know how I like my pancakes, baby,’’ he said, pushing himself off the counter and closing the distance between you and him in a few strides. 

Sarah shot a glare in his direction, her eyes narrowing, but Rafe chose to ignore her and kiss your shoulder, standing right behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back and resting his chin above your shoulder.

‘’Rafe, you’re distracting me,’’ you warned, pouring batter in the pan and adding some blueberries. 

Rafe laughed lowly, his chest rumbling against your back as his arms wrapped tighter around your waist. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear, his lips lingering on your skin for a few seconds. ‘’These look good. Think we can take the pancakes to bed after you’re done?’’ 

Breakfast in bed, away from everyone else, sounded tempting. You've had breakfast with the Camerons since you arrived, sticking to the polite routine. You missed being alone with Rafe in the morning, taking it slow and engaging in non-PG activities.  

Before you answered, Sarah cleared her throat beside you, a disapproving look on her face. Rafe thought he was subtle and sleek when he had his hand wander under your robe. 

He lifted his head and gave her a cocky grin. ''What?'' 

‘’In case you forgot, I’m still here,'' the blonde recalled, taking a few plates from the cupboards and deciding to set the table. ‘’And Wheezie and Dad and Rose are gonna come down soon.’’ 

‘’I know,'' Rafe replied, stepping back and letting you finish the pancakes. ''If you had not been here, I would have her bent over the counter already.’’ 

His words should have shocked you, but you were used to his bluntness by now. Rafe never held back, always saying exactly what was on his mind, no matter how outrageous. No matter the audience. You thought he would behave and tone it down with Wheezie in the house, but he didn’t. 

Thankfully, her young ears were not around.

You looked over your shoulder, failing at hiding the smirk that tugged at the corners of your lip.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina@eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx@sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife   @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue   @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker   @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage   @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc   @pedrosprincess   @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb   @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom   @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey   @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld   @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble   @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius   @buckyswhxre @emerald-09   @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey  @ynmunson @riddle18  @love4ldr @withfireandbl00d @wonderland2425 @blublock404 @eddieslut69

[luveline]

hihihihi! 💕 if you’re willing, can you write a little something with shy!r being the one to initiate the first kiss with hotch but her glasses get in the way? tytyty! 🙏🏼

—Hotch almost dies and you can’t take it anymore. He’s not expecting a kiss. fem, 1.7k

The thing is that you don’t mean to panic. Hotch is marching out of the building with handcuffs cut open on his wrists, Emily and Morgan just in front of him, and you’d been stuck out here with JJ because they never let you do the touch and go stuff. An UnSub held a shotgun to the back of Hotch’s head and you just had to watch. 

You hold yourself in place with all your strength as they come down the path of the house to the blockade of cars and emergency vehicles. “I’m fine,” he says, before any of you can ask him. “Not a scratch on me.” 

You can see the skin of his wrists has cut from tugging, so he’s lying, but that’s not surprising. You shift with your hands clenched together. He’s closer now, you could touch him, nearly speechless as he says, “Honestly, I’m surprised it happened to me, and not Reid.” 

Everyone else laughs. 

You can’t take it. He looks at you, and you, despite the last year of pushing down feelings of nervousness and affection, of pretending you don’t notice how his fingers feel when they brush the backs of your hands or the way his suit stretches across broad shoulders, despite practice, you can’t stay still any longer. 

You weave around JJ, past Spencer, in between Rossi and Hotch himself to press yourself to his chest. You hug him tightly, worried he might disappear if you don’t hold on. Safe, your brain says, even as your hands tremble. He’s safe. 

“I’m alright,” he says quietly, clasping your back carefully. The handcuff stuck to his wrists jabs through your vest. You can feel it on the bone. 

“I–” Your eyes are still open, too shocked to let them close. 

“I’m fine.” 

You take that for a polite ‘unhand me’ and step back. His hand lingers on your shoulder as though checking you for injury, like you’re the one who just had a gun to their head. “You’re sure you're okay?” you ask. 

“I’m not hurt.” 

You look pointedly at his wrists. 

“Mm,” he says, turning on the spot. “I suppose I am. But there’s nothing to worry about.” 

You’re egregiously worried regardless. In an attempt to keep from making the situation about you, you turn away from him and take a walk, pretending you need something from the car you came in. You open the passenger door, sweeping your hands across the leather seat for your phone, but you don’t want it, so you hold it in two hands and try to calm down. You’re shaking like crazy. He must have felt it when you hugged him. 

If you thought he cared enough about his life to prioritise it you might not have panicked as hard, but an advantage to being quiet is getting the opportunity to really listen to people. You don’t talk much, but Hotch does, he’s always telling someone what to do, or reassuring them, and he’s constantly on the phone trying to coordinate. You’ve heard his voice for hours on end. So when Rossi told him through the wire that they were gonna get him out of there, you heard the fake confidence in Hotch’s voice as he said, “I know.” 

He didn’t know. He was scared, so you were terrified. 

You check the time. It’s almost two in the morning but the cars give enough light to see inside the car. You trace the stitching on the seat, your eyes sore and blurry at once. Admitting defeat, you climb into the seat and dig around for your glasses. You’d thought you might need them —if Hotch was injured you’d need to go to the hospital and your contacts are dailies, so you knew you’d have to take them out. 

You pull the sun guard down and flip the cover on the mirror to take your contacts out, dropping them in the glasses case to throw away later. Your eyes sting. You rub them hard. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice says. 

Hotch is a blob. You slide your glasses open and up your nose, blinking as he comes back into definition. “Hotch.” They’ve cut his handcuffs off and wrapped light bandaging around his wrists. “Okay?” you ask. 

“Are you?” 

“I’m fine, sorry.” You clear your throat. “My eyes are tired, that’s all.” 

He stares at you for too long. Desperate to be out of his scrutiny, you get out of the car and shut the door. “Can we go home soon?” you ask. 

“I believe so.” 

“Oh,” you say, looking down at his hand, “good.” 

There’s another gap of silence, and then simultaneously:

“Are you–”

“Can I–”

Hotch smiles. “You first.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? That must’ve been so scary.”

Hotch gives his head a slow shake. “I’m fine. I was more scared at the time than I would’ve liked to admit to, but I’m okay now. I’ve felt worse.” 

“Really? Worse than that?” you ask, trying but failing to smile. Your wrist is too hot in your own hand. 

He seems to measure his response. “When you and JJ got stuck in the middle of New York a few months ago, when we couldn’t contact you, that was the most scared I’ve ever been on the job.” 

New York. He’d just separated from Haley, and everyone kept telling you how much chemistry he had with Kate, and you were already hopeless for him. It sucked. He almost died and you had to act like everything meant nothing to you, he was just your boss. 

But you’re friends now. Maybe you can be a little more honest. 

“I was scared too,” you say. You can’t help pouting. You must look like a petulant kid. “You wouldn’t believe it, Hotch, I watched you on the camera twenty different times. And now today, I had to see it again, I can’t keep watching this stuff happen to you.” 

“That’s the job.” 

“But why does it have to be you?” you ask.  

His eyes track over your entire face, his brow ever so slightly furrowed. “Because it does, and it always will,” he says, eyes softening, voice like silk. He’s talking to you like you’ve hung the moon even as he lays down an unfortunate truth. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I know exactly what it is that I’m doing. I don’t want you to worry about me.” 

“I can’t help it.” 

He smiles just a touch. “I know. I can’t help it either.” 

You look at him and you know he’s not gonna kiss you. He might want to —it’s insanity, it doesn’t feel real, he almost died tonight and you never would’ve known how this feels. 

You step into his chest. You’re frowning at him, the edge of tears without any of the heat. “I don’t know what I’d do if something really happened to you,” you confess. 

The scratch in your voice perturbs him. Careful, his hand comes to rest against the small of your back, drawing you in. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“Don’t be. Please. God knows I’d lose my mind if it had been you in there tonight.” 

He doesn’t move as you touch his cheek. Doesn’t step away as you steel your nerves. He must know what you’re about to do, but he doesn’t stop you. For a moment you can’t let yourself have it. But then he lets out a breath, and closes his eyes, and he angles his head down to meet you. You tip your head to the side and lean in. 

For a few seconds, your chest is uncomfortably hot, and you’re so scared he’s not gonna kiss you back and that you’re ruining everything you can’t think right. And Hotch —Hotch must know exactly how he likes to be kissed, and you’re probably not doing it right. But you’ve wanted it for long enough to try twice. You kiss him with lips parting, your hand unsteady on his cheek. 

He makes a sound at the back of his throat and curls you in. 

You’re hungry for it, there’s no other word —the second he responds you bear up. You kiss him hard enough to make your lips sting.

“Ah,” he says with a laugh, tilting his head to the side. “I think you blinded me.” 

“What?” 

“Your glasses, sweetheart. They’re at risk of giving me a concussion.” 

Sweetheart. You touch your glasses, remember the problem and touch his face, just under his eye. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

He pushes them up against your forehead. “Okay?”

“I can’t see you.” 

“Well, I don’t think that’s a necessity unless you do,” he says. 

You’re not sure what he means until he’s brought his hands to your neck, holding you by either side. 

“It’s been a long time since someone surprised me,” he says softly. Before you can make sense of it, he’s leaning down to kiss you chastely. He’s much sweeter about it than you’d been and what an embarrassment that is, you’d thrown yourself at him and he’s kissing you like a prince. 

He kisses you. His thumb runs along your cheek. When he pulls away he smiles, settling your glasses tenderly back on the bridge of your nose. 

“I’m really alright,” he says. He’ll be lucky if you ever speak again. Knowing, he cups your face with his thumbs, his fingers slipped behind your neck. 

You duck your head. He takes it as a sign to hug you, ushering your face into his neck, your glasses smushed to your eyes. If he can feel the heat coming off of you, he’s kind enough not to mention it. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he murmurs. 

“Do you think I can give you back?” you ask. 

You’re glad when he laughs, a surprised chuckle that vibrates from his chest to yours. “That’s harsh, agent.” 

You were obviously kidding, but the teasing has to stop. You won’t survive it. 

“Will you kiss me again?” you ask under your breath. 

He’s too busy doing as you’ve asked to tease you. You’re too busy being kissed to remember you were scared.

[nevermindmorpheus]

So I just want to notice a few things about this article and suggest we all take a moment to do a fact check.

First, it’s weird that only the advocate leading a rally on Jess and Dahlia’s behalf is quoted.

Second, there does not in fact seem to be a light rail stop at Hennepin and 5th street. (a bus stop, yes).

Third, the details are odd—Jess and Dahlia were beaten to unconsciousness on the street and yet the only news is this story in the Independent, and then a few stories using that article to regurgitate that information.

Fourth, while there is a quote from a legitimate group in Minneapolis (Sequeerity) it’s not actually about the attacks, but about whether their services and classes have been in demand. Which I am sure is true, but it’s a red flag there is no link to the actual event that supposedly kicked off the interview.

When I search “trans women attacked minneapolis” it pulls these up along with a story from the Star Tribune (Minneapolis’s award winning local paper) about a trans woman attacked by two men in a light rail station—in March of 2023

Now, this story treats the violence with the level of care I would expect for something this vicious, you can see the multiple sources, how the details are laid out etc. (Also in this incident, and the police are called and her attackers were charged.)

Now what I kind of suspected here in the case of the 2024 story that uses some of those details but none of the context that makes sense, was that this story is either AI written or in the worst case, written to stoke fear in trans folks hoping to find safety. Things feel very dangerous in the US right now and a story like this can make even places of refuge seem unsafe. The reality of course is that no place is perfect, but Minneapolis is still a much better option for safety for trans folks than many others.

Now, things that would make me trust this story is if we could find journalism where anyone has covered either:

a) the actual attack occurring Nov 2024, citing a full police report, speaking to either Jess or Dahlia, or a bystander who saw the incident. Or even you know, the time of day exactly, and gets the actual physical location correct.

EDIT! There is coverage here that does that and clarifies the location of the light rail station and resolves the factual issues that raised my questions in the first article: https://bringmethenews.com/minnesota-news/rally-held-after-transgender-women-attacked-near-minneapolis-light-rail-station

https://bringmethenews.com/minnesota-news/rally-held-after-transgender-women-attacked-near-minneapolis-light-rail-station

b) a story covering the rally that happened in support of Jess and Dahlia. Where was it? How many people were there? Are they asking for anything?

EDIT: the above linked story does that!

At this point I can find neither and so I urge everyone to be careful and critical when encountering news that is hitting all of your emotional buttons. No one’s fears are unfounded here (this did happen in 2023!) but we owe it to each other to only spread stories like this that are based on solid evidence ♥️

EDIT: Thanks to some other folks doing searching as well, the step of fact checking which is find other coverage has succeeded. I was wrong! I do want to emphasis that it is still important to go through the process of noticing these things and making sure what you’re looking at is real, because there were enough errors in the Independent story that made the reporting not feel right. The “bring me the news” piece, as well as the instagram posts it’s linked to clarify the rally, the large public support including government officials, and reports the correct details of location and when the cops showed up (late, at the hospital. nice look there guys).

I’ve gotten a lot of hate for wondering if this was correctly reported and being wrong on the internet, and I do want to say that I looked into this because it made me upset, and then concerned, that the violence against transwomen was being used to stoke our fear (which is what I felt about the Independent article). I included the sections about what would indicate this was real because I knew there was a real possibility I had missed something, and wanted to highlight how you know when to change your mind.

so the tldr: The first shared article has a lot of factorial errors that means you should look more. Even if you don’t see evidence at first doesn’t mean you won’t get it later! The truth is that this violence did happen, but also that there was a huge outpouring of local support. Please take care of each other, and be kind!

This is where we are. Anti-trans pogroms have begun and the community is living in fear. Things are so bad that some of us are unable to live anymore.

Where is the left? Where are our allies?

#TDoR2024

[wonderjanga]

So Ive had this prompt stuck in my head, dunno if you've done it before, but:

Billy unexpectedly powers down due to a villain's weapon. But instead of being, well, scruffy little billy, he ends up looking like a greek child with the toga (?) and all. What would the JL reaction be?

This whole incident started half a year ago with the divine beings in his head arguing about something. Arguing was a surprisingly common occurrence despite the fact that most of these guys were over thousands of years old. He tended to normally tune them out whenever this was happening.

Achilles: “BILLY!”

Marvel: *startles* “Yes, Achilles?”

Achilles: “Chiton or toga?”

Marvel: “Huh?

Mercury: “Chiton or toga? We’re making you a gift. Aren’t we like so kind?”

Marvel: “A gift…?” *sounds weary* “I don’t like the sound of that. What are you planning?”

Zeus: “Nothing!”

Marvel: “Solomon?”

Solomon: “It really is nothing. This will actually aid you in case of any accidents while in field.”

Marvel: “Okay then…”

Hercules: “NOW PICK!”

Marvel: “Alright, alright, dang. Uh… What’s a chiton?”

Zeus: “What’s a- What’s a chiton? I’ve never felt such a shame for one of my children before.”

Marvel: “I’m not your kid, but okay.”

Solomon: “Billy, a chiton is a tunic that was worn traditionally by the Greeks.”

Marvel: “Oooh. Uh… okay then I pick that one.”

Zeus: “Ha ha, suck it Atlas!”

Atlas: “I also wanted him to pick the Chiton…?”

Zeus: “I know. I just don’t like you. I thought that was obvious by now.”

Billy didn’t know that Robin was like five feet away and watching this entire interaction go down. To Damian, this grown ass man was just having a full conversation with himself, oblivious to the world. He reported this behavior to his father later.

Batman: “That’s normal.”

Robin!Damian: “Pardon?”

Batman: “That’s normal for Marvel. Think nothing of it.”

Anyways, fast forward six months. Billy forgot about the gift thing the Gods were talking about. Mostly because they hadn’t even given him the gift. Then the time came when Billy was forced to be detransformed. All because of a stupid villain’s machine going haywire. Sivana could do better. So now, Billy was standing in front of the JL who had surrounded him in a half circle.

(Ancient Greek is in italics)

Billy: “Uh… Hello?” *doesn’t even realize he’s decked out in the Ancient Greek drip, complete with the chiton from earlier*

JL: *staring in befuddlement*

Supes: “He’s been de-aged?”

WW: *steps forward* “Brother?”

Mercury: “Okay, Billy, stare at her for like three seconds and then be like you’re Zeus‘s kin?”

Billy: *doesn’t even know why he’s doing this but does the three second stare* “You’re Zeus’ kin?”

Mercury: “You’re my favorite champion now.”

WW: “I am. I am Diana Prince. It’s a pleasure to meet you. What is your name?”

Solomon: “Thavma is a nice choice.”

Zeus: “So is Keraunos. Which is arguably better because it means lightning.”

Billy: “Thavma, or Keraunos. Either is fine.”

Flash: *whispering to Batman* “Spooky, what’re they saying?”

Batman: “I don’t know. I’m versed in Greek, not Ancient Greek. I can just barely make out an eighth of the words they’re saying.”

Soon after all of this, he was taken to the Watchtower. The JL dropped him off in a rec room and assigned Robin to watch him so the team could go to a meeting room to discuss the whole ordeal.

Robin!Damian: *looking him up and down*

Billy: *can feel the judgment through Robin’s mask* “What is it?”

Robin!Damian: “What?”

Billy: “I said what is it?”

Robin!Damian: “Tt. A language barrier.”

Billy: *frog blinks* “Language barrier…?”

Solomon: “I’ll just turn off the Ancient Greek for you.”

Billy: *clears his throat* “Can you understand me now?” *slight Greek accent still there*

Robin!Damian: “More clearly. Yes.”

Billy: “Cool, now what is it?”

Robin!Damian: “Pardon?”

Billy: “What is it? I can tell you’re staring at me judgmentally through that thing on your face.”

Robin!Damian: *visibly bristles* “I am not.”

Billy: “Yes, you are.”

Robin!Damian: “I am not.”

Billy: “You are.”

Robin!Damian: “Am not.”

Billy: “Yuh huh.”

Robin!Damian: “Nuh uh-” *realizes he let that leave his mouth* “Why are you acting like a child?

Billy: “I am a child.”

Robin!Damian: *stares at him for a couple moments* “The reason I am staring at you judgmentally, is that I had previously assumed you had been born an adult.”

Billy: “Who told you that?”

Robin!Damian: “Nightwing.”

Billy: *remembers he’s not supposed to know who that is* “Who?”

Robin!Damian: “He’s someone you’ll meet when you’re an adult.”

Billy: “Okay…?”

*silence*

Somehow, the two ended up crawling in the vents together. You couldn’t even ask Billy how it happened.

Robin!Damian: “Crawl faster.”

Billy: “I’m trying.”

They spent a while up there, crawling around, eavesdropping, stopping every now and then in the kitchen for snacks.

Robin!Damian: “This is chocolate.” *hands him a chocolate bar*

Billy: *eyes literally shining as he looks at the bar because he rarely gets to have chocolate*

Robin!Damian: “You open it like so.” *opens his own bar* “Now come. We must continue on the move. Back to the vents.”

This went on until the JL started to look for them.

Flash: *searching the rec room frantically because they should’ve been here*

Robin!Damian and Billy: *descend from the vents*

Robin!Damian: “What do you need speedster?”

Flash: *screams*

[hexxedcore]

idk if you write for Jayce and I'm kinda having mixed feelings about him after act2 but hear me out: yandere! Jayce's first priority being to look for you after getting out of the hexcore

shamefully i am prioritising this because i have quite a lot of thoughts as of act two 💔. writing will be beneath the cut for people who wish to avoid spoilers. nsfw is included and given a separated section!

also, yes i write for (and love) jayce. i stand with my cancelled wife 💯

WARNINGS: YANDERE, possessive behaviour, delusion, unhealthy + toxic relationship, S2 ACT 2 SPOILERS. NSFW, marking

SFW:

If ‘tunnel vision’ was personified, it would be Jayce after coming out of the Arcane. This man clearly witnessed something so incomprehensibly horrible that it’s amped his determination up to 100%. Good luck with that.

After quite literally squashing Salo, his main mission is you. Find you and protecting you from whatever he witnessed in those Wild Runes from becoming true. Now, we don’t know how quickly time passed for him, but it had to be a long time. God knows what happened to you while he wasn’t there to keep a watchful eye on you. You were hopeless without him — you could be injured, or worse.

You were exactly where he thought you’d be. Tossing restlessly in a bed that was far too large for one person, wondering why exactly his absence was just so abrupt. No letter, no goodbye that morning; radio silence.

You were in for a shock when you were startled awake by the sound of something heavy and burdened being dragged on the floorboards, having little protection save for a knife you’d procured from the kitchen in the case that any burglars attempted to make themselves cozy.

And you were just about to throw it, too, when he stepped into the small gap of your bedside lamp. This was hardly the Jayce you knew; haggard, disheveled, scruffy — most of all, startled, his breathing laboured and his hands tightly clasping his hammer.

That man had dropped his weapon and was on you in seconds; holding you, clutching you, in the fear that you would dissipate if you weren’t treated carefully. The tight was warm and shaky, but most of all oh so incredibly suffocating.

That night there is one thing he’s promising you, like a mantra: he is never letting you go again.

NSFW:

This man is starving and there is absolutely nothing getting in the way of that. He comes out of the Arcane like he’s in a rut and poor old you for having to cope with it. Good luck.

Jayce doesn’t feel like he has the time to be sensual. He can, and still is of course, but he’s rough in the sense that it’s animalistic. He’s acting on his basest desires now, and that’s a stark desire for you.

There is nothing more that this man gets a kick out of than marking you. For general yandere hcs, yeah, but Act Two him? The whole world is finding out about it, believe it. And god forbid you leave some scratches on his back — he’d go feral.

Constantly muttering affirmations that you aren’t going anywhere, that you are so divine yet so so hopeless without him. You missed his cock while he was gone? He’ll make up for that, because like he’d let someone else do the job.

[supernovafics]

you and steve like each other but neither of you want to fully admit it

wc: 1k

a tiny bit angsty but overall very soft and sweet<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

it was a teasing look mixed with barely any space. it was also the mix of way too many drinks and one joint passed around your group of friends that made you and steve practically inseparable. 

in normal circumstances, you two were already pretty much attached at the hip— always finding each other in crowded rooms or having your own whispered conversations when you were in big groups. but whenever you two were drunk or high, or in this case both, your closeness seemed to only increase tenfold. 

you weren’t sure whose decision it was to move to the kitchen while your friends talked and laughed in the living room. maybe you wanted to drag steve along as you went to grab a soda from his fridge, or perhaps it had been the other way around. you honestly couldn’t remember, and whatever you planned to get became long forgotten by the time you two had walked the ten feet from the living room.

now you sat atop the counter, hands settled in your lap as you fought the urge to run your fingers through steve’s hair that was surprisingly pretty messy for once. and that made you remember that the messiness had actually been your doing because you ruffled it at some point during the night— when he playfully made fun of you for being such a lightweight and the only thing you felt as if you could do in retaliation to his words was mess up his perfectly styled hair.

you let out an abrupt laugh at the memory. 

steve looked at you curiously. “what’s so funny?”

“your hair.”

he quickly pushed a hand through it, trying to tame the mess of brown. “that’s all your fault, y’know.”

“i know. sorry,” you told him. “i think it’s pretty cute, though.”

“you’re pretty cute.” 

you let out another soft laugh. “always the charmer, harrington.” 

“and you love it.”

you nodded instead of protesting his words like you would’ve done if he had said them to you when you were sober. “yeah… i do.” 

he moved closer to you then, stepping between your parted legs, and it was hard to not let yourself lean into him just a little bit. one of his hands settled on the side of your thigh and then moved up and found your hip. 

you didn’t know if it was you or him who leaned in further, but suddenly your noses were brushing and your lips became only breaths apart. it hadn’t even happened yet, but you were already imagining what his lips would feel like on yours; the softness of his mouth, and you had a feeling that he’d taste like the tequila you two had been drinking all night. 

but then he was slowly pulling back a bit. 

maybe logical thinking was hitting him in this moment, and the smallest part of you that was barely sober was glad because you knew just how much things would change if you two did kiss right then. 

you figured steve was going to step away from you then. and in response, you would jump off the counter and slip your hand in his and then you two would head back into the living room; putting an end to your random trip to the kitchen. 

instead, though, he leaned in closer, mouth fanning right against your ear as he softly asked, “can i kiss you?”

that was not at all what you expected him to say. 

so, logical thinking was actually not hitting him in this moment, you figured; and you could say the same. kind of.

you had to bite your lip to hold back your smile. “nope.”

steve pouted at you. “please?”

seeing the look on his face made it too hard not to smile that time. 

you almost just simply shook your head and told him no again, but instead, you turned your head and tapped your cheek. steve got what you meant immediately and leaned in to kiss your warming cheek. 

the action was pretty innocent and very childish, but it still made butterflies swarm in your stomach. 

“was that good enough for you?” you asked softly, leaning back a bit so that you could really look at him, placing your hands on the cool countertop. 

the hand that he had on your hip lightly squeezed. “for now.”

quickly, your mind changed and you were reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him toward you and hugging him; you couldn’t let yourself kiss him, even though you really wanted to, so this was the next best thing. steve returned the embrace immediately, arms circling your waist and holding you tight. 

this was enough, you decided. it would have to be enough. 

steve hummed softly against your neck and you let out a giggle because of how much the action tickled. 

when your laughter subsided, you two simply stayed as you were; quietly holding one another and pretending that it was only you and him in his house right then. 

eddie’s voice from the couch suddenly broke the prevailing silence. “just kiss already! jesus christ!”

that was when you finally pulled away from each other— arms dropping and steve moving back a bit to give you some space; space that you really didn’t want. 

you both flipped eddie off with a laugh and then focused back on each other. you finally hopped off the counter and steve followed you as you headed back into the living room with everyone else.

you knew that aside from drunken moments like those, you and steve would never get that close to kissing one another, or even consider doing it; neither of you would ever have the courage to push your friendship into that entirely different place. 

maybe it was because deep down you both were scared of change, or maybe it was because you both wanted to protect the friendship you had. either way, you and steve were fine with toeing this blurry line instead of admitting the truth. it was easier that way, and a part of you loved it, actually. at least, that was what you kept telling yourself.

[ostaramoon]

rainy nights + dingy motel beds 𖤐 dean winchester

【 pairing 】 dean x fem!reader

【 summary 】 you’re a hunter and occasionally you’ll help the winchesters on a case. this time, things don’t end the way you would have liked them to. dean, albeit awkwardly, consoles you. but it’s dean so he can’t help but start flirting after you’re done crying.

【 genre 】 fluff - hurt/comfort, a pinch of angst, intimate kissing + touching, mdni

【 wordcount 】 1.8k

the evening’s frigid breeze and heavy rainfall reflects tonight's hunt — cold and disappointing. it was supposed to be an easy case, a few werewolves hell bent on creating a pack in this small town, all you had to do was take out the monsters and move onto the next. but there was a small oversight, unbeknownst to you, the leader had kidnapped a high school girl and ripped her heart out before you, dean, or sam could stop him. 

now, the three of you quietly exited the impala, exhausted and lost in your own thoughts. you head towards your room, next door to the boys, without stopping to say goodnight. as you pull the room keys from your pocket, unlocking your door, you notice his presence behind you. 

turning to dean, you stare up at him blankly, “what?” you ask, not in the mood to converse after such a shit night. 

the man sighs, stepping past you and into your room. with his hands tucked into his coat pockets, he just stands in your room rather awkwardly. it kinda pisses you off, as you usually hunt on your own so you don’t have to deal with conversations after shit goes sideways. wash off the pain, crawl in bed and shove those terrible feelings aside while you search for the next case. it works. but this, the man you don’t mind working with every now and again, standing in your space like he can fix the hurt does not work. 

“dean,” you sigh, shedding your coat and shoes, letting them fall onto the floor without a care for the mess, “i’m really not much of a talker after a hunt like this, you should know that by now.”

he nods, carding a hand through his damp hair, “yeah,” he laughs through his nose, “me either. but i can’t let you put this all on yourself.”

you roll your eyes, walking past him towards the beat up duffle sitting on your bed. pulling out sleep clothes you start changing, not really caring what dean sees. you haven’t gone there with him, but you’ve never been shy about him seeing a little more skin. “not in the mood, winchester.” he watches you change, not with the usual glint of flirty amusement but with a pained indecision as he looks between you and the door. 

“look,” he starts, moving to sit on the bed in front of you, “i’m not good at this, but i can’t have you sitting in here alone, blaming yourself for what happened. we couldn’t have known she would be there.” 

you glare with a scoff, “that’s literally our job to know those things. we research, talk to the town, stalk and hunt to make sure no one else is hurt while we’re around.” you take a deep breath, trying to steady the rage rolling inside. “that little girl is dead,” your voice cracks, “because we missed something.” with that your hands go to your face, rubbing at your temples but also to hide the few tears that break past your usual stoic hunter mask. 

“hey,” dean whispers, a gentle tone you aren’t used to hearing from him. sam, sure but dean? not quite his forte. his calloused hands finding your hips and pulling you between his legs. but you remain still with your hands covering your face as the dam breaks and the tears flow, “will you just let me console you, dammit.”  

maybe it’s because he used his stern voice, the one you’ve grown to trust and listen to without question. or maybe it’s the quiet yearning inside that tells you to give in, either way in one swift movement, you let dean pull you into his lap. you bury your face into his chest. he smells like the earth, leather, and sweat. a smell that is as close to home as you can get in this life, a familiarity you’ve started to miss when you’re on your own. 

dean secures one arm around your back, rubbing your arm while his other hand snakes it way under your hair and to your tear stained cheek. “i’m just so tired, d.” you whisper. 

“i know,” he responds, placing a kiss in the top of your head, “we can’t save them all. but we took out those bastards, think of how many people we did save.” and he’s right, you know he’s right. but priding yourself on being the hero against the darkest part of the world makes a loss feel heavy on your shoulders. 

being vulnerable isn’t something you do often, especially not around dean winchester. you’ve certainly been close in the past, a friendly hug here and there, a drunken make out session once or twice. but crying in his lap is entirely new territory. but it doesn’t feel wrong, and you’re too tired and too weak to think any further into this newfound intimacy. 

“will you stay with me?” you ask, lifting your head to look into those sad green eyes. you’ve never let him or anyone see you with your guard down like this. and honestly, this isn’t how you pictured your first night sharing a bed with dean winchester. 

dean gives you a grin, the sadness evaporating from his eyes, now glowing with mischief as he looks into yours, “are you asking me to sleep over, sweetheart?” you fight a smile with a poorly crafted scowl.

“not like that, perv. besides, i can’t be very enticing with my pj’s and puffy eyes.” you laugh. the hand that was respectfully rubbing your arm falls to your waist as dean playfully pinches the skin peeking from the top of your pants.

“oh, you’re always enticing.” he retorts, “but i’m not really into the using-a-sad-girl-to-get-laid kinda thing. i’ll stay with you for as long as you need and i promise to keep my hands where you can see them.” you can’t ignore the small part of you that feels disappointed by his pledge to be respectful, now isn’t the time you remind yourself.

with a sniff, you give a weak smile “thank you, d.” 

“it’s what i’m here for, right?” his lips pull up into that signature charming smile. he gently places you on the bed beside him, and you’re instantly wanting to be close to his warm body again. unaware he was watching you, dean chuckles as he stands. “don’t start pouting at me, sweetheart. i just have to take off some layers. unless you like sleeping next to a dirty coat and boots?” he teases. 

you roll your eyes, “shut up.” slightly embarrassed he noticed your change in demeanor when he removed you from himself, you slid up the bed and under the uncomfortably thin motel blankets. sinking into the pillow, you can’t help but seriously look forward to having dean’s warmth to cozy up to on such a cold night. with a tired sigh he joins you under the covers, wordlessly grabbing your waist so that your bodies are flush against each other. his jaw nestles itself in the crook of your neck as you entangle your limps with his. that’s when you notice he also discarded the jeans he had on. “i did say sleep over, not sleep with, didn’t i?” you tease, snapping the band of his briefs earning a small grunt in response. 

“you’re crazy if you think i’m sleeping in those jeans.” he says into your ear, his voice raspy as it radiates through your bones. you try not to think of all the places that grow warmer just from being so close to him.

it’s almost instinctual at this point, to tease and pull away each time dean starts to think he’s close to catching you. even if he quite literally has you in his arms at the moment. “i’ve seen you sleep in jeans, even with your dirty ass boots on the bed.” you retort.

“yeah,” he chuckles, his hand traces shapes on your back, little strokes of heat follow each lazy movement his fingers make, “but that’s when i’m not in bed with you.” 

“mhm,” you hum, slipping a hand up the back of shirt. for warmth, you convince yourself, nothing more. “which brings me back to my original question.”

“says the woman with her hand up my shirt,” he teases back, pulling his face back so that he can look down at yours, “if i didn’t know any better i’d think you were trying to cop a feel, miss.” his voice is so deep you can feel it vibrate from his chest into yours. that kind of warmth does wonders for forgetting what you were upset about in the first place, which you take note of for the future. being close to dean, like this, is something you should do more often. 

“mm, no,” you grumble, feigning innocence as you bat your eyes up at him and let your hand move further underneath his shirt, to his chest, “you’re warm.” your eyes flick between his, then down past the freckles and to his plump pink lips, and when you return your gaze to his half lidded eyes his internal torment is obvious. his tracing hand stills before grasping your hip with a warning as he sighs. gotcha, you think to yourself. playing into dean’s flirtatious teasing and winning one over on him is incredibly satisfying.

“sweetheart,” he warns in a low tone, lowering his head until his lips brush against your ear, while he paws at the skin on your waist, “i can’t keep my promise if you look at me like that.” 

with a giggle you cross the unspoken barrier, pulling away just enough to catch his lips against yours. a quiet groan escapes his lips as you deepen the kiss. his hands have lost any regard for decency as calloused skin explores your body. he finds his way to your thigh, hiking it up around him and giving your ass a needy squeeze. your hands go up to his jaw, that budding stubble scraping across the palms of your hands and making the heat growing inside feel hot and unbearable. 

just as you start rocking your hips, in a selfish search for release, he stills you at your waist and pulls away from your lips. he locks eyes with you for a moment. needy, lustful eyes staring back into yours. instead of jumping back into the heat, he places a gentle kiss on your forehead and pulls you underneath his chin. you’re caged under his strong arms, holding you tightly. 

“i was serious about the no-crying-girls thing,” he says, “not much fun if i get you that easily, sweets.” 

you can’t deny that you enjoy dancing on the line, so to speak, with dean. the constant ‘will they, won’t they’ is a charming aspect of your relationship. but you agree, now doesn’t feel like the time to cross the finish line. there’s always the next hunt, and with that your mind drifts into sleep surrounded by the smell of earth and leather. 

──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

omfg i haven't written fanfic in like 6 years, i'm rusty so bare with me while i get back into the game lol

[neverenoughmarauders]

Lily's meaningless sacrifice

One thing that irks me is when people suggest that in canon, Lily had any idea that Harry would survive (this is merely a canon post, nothing to do with fanfiction). It irks me, partly because it's just incorrect and that's the sort of person I am. More importantly, however, it irks me because Lily not stepping aside when she had nothing to gain from dying is fundamental to the story.

Let's start with JKR own words from an interview in 2005:

MA: Did she know anything about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry? JKR: No - because as I've tried to make clear in the series, it never happened before. No one ever survived before. And no one, therefore, knew that could happen.

Lily knew nothing about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry. Lily was faced with this choice:

Scenario 1: Steps aside, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 2: Be killed, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 1 is (on the surface) objectively better (unless you're a DE and thus want less muggle-borns around). To Voldemort, it's a simple choice: In both scenarios Harry will die, in one, Lily will survive. In fact, this is what makes a lot of people defend Severus' choice to only ask Voldemort to spare Lily. Severus could not save Harry (and apparently it's totally cool not trying to save others if they bullied you).

Lily could not save Harry.

Lily's choice, as far as she is aware, is not whether to save Harry or not, but whether to save herself. And yet, Lily cannot stand aside. As JKR points out earlier in the interview, what Lily did is not that surprising to us readers ("I don't think any mother would stand aside from their child"). Why? Love. Because, as Dumbledore reminds us on multiple occasions: there are worse things than death - most notably in DH:

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."

Love, and life with and without love is an undercurrent in the story. Lily's sacrifice is meaningless when made, and yet it's the biggest and most understandable expression of love anyone can show someone else. Lily cannot, and does not want to, live in a world where she has witnessed her son being murdered - especially when her husband has been murdered too. A world without Harry and James is no world for Lily Potter.

It is also - bear with me - not that different from what it was like to be in the Order at that time:

[Y]ou weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one...

“He — he was taking over everywhere!” gasped Pettigrew. “Wh — what was there to be gained by refusing him?”

The Order operated against the odds and were being picked off one by one. As Peter asks - what was there to be gained by refusing him? What was there to be gained from standing (metaphorically or not) in front of Voldemort's victims? I've said this before and I'll say it again, Sirius' answer is powerful:

“What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?” said Black, with a terribly fury in his face. “Only innocent lives, Peter!” “You don’t understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!” “THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Black.

Only innocent lives. They weren't fighting this war because they were winning. In fact they were very much losing. But they were fighting because it was right thing to do. Many Order members chose to die, rather than to step aside and let Voldemort take over. Only in their case it didn't make a difference - or at least, it didn't feel like it at the time. Members were murdered, and Voldemort was just getting stronger and stronger.

What was there to be gained by refusing Voldemort?

I firmly believe this is a theme that is repeated throughout the book: not just love and choice, but the obligation to choose what is right, no matter the odds (the irony that this was written by JKR will never be lost on me), and how love is a powerful motivator to do just that. Doing the right thing might seem hopeless in the moment - wasteful even - but that doesn't mean it's not worth doing, or that in the end, it won't add up.

Imagine what Harry felt like at the end of PS/SS when he risked his life to stop Voldemort, only to realise that Voldemort would keep trying to come back:

“Well, Voldemort’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t he? I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?” “No, Harry, he has not. (...) Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power.”

Harry Potter isn't about doing the right thing because it will bring you rewards, but because it is the right thing.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

This speech doesn't sit well with a few people because it sounds like you're asked to remember what happened to someone who did do the right thing (spoiler: he died). But that's not the point, of course. Cedric wasn't killed for doing the right thing or making a hard choice - Dumbledore asks the students to remember Cedric because the enemy is willing to kill innocent people indiscriminately. Standing aside will not be good enough against people like Voldemort. There is, as Dumbledore put it, a need to keep fighting what seems a losing battle. Why? Only innocent lives.

Both James and Lily die that evening because they are unwilling to let Voldemort near their innocent son as long as there is breath in their bodies. James had no choice (this irks me because he did, he could have run away - he could have not fought Voldemort in the Order to being with. They all had a choice, but not the point). Lily had a choice. And she chose, like many had before her, to fight what seemed like a losing battle. She died, not knowing that she had saved her son. Her sacrifice was meaningless - like so many before her - and yet her sacrifice changed the world.

In the end, by choosing to do what was right, she was granted the wish she most desired: Her son lived.

[mariclerc]

Student's secret | cl16

Summary: what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas... or in a pole dance club.

Warnings: mental health issues, toxic work environment, mentions of drugs and sex, uni student reader, denigrating comments, angst and a little fluff at the end.

Living or spending a few days in the city of sin is a dream come true for many people, it is the place where everything is possible, where anything can happen: Luxuries and eccentricities are the order of the day throughout the year and rules and formalities are something banal and outdated for many.

For you it is like being in a cage, many people are forced to lead a double life, one where during the day they do their routine things but at night they try to do something to survive... Just like your case... Being a uni student, it is a bit difficult to bear the expenses of tutors, food, clothes, rent and other things, especially being exposed to the city of luxuries at such a young age, most of the time you find it difficult to make ends meet, so you decided to look for a job during the holidays to, at least, have enough money to make it to the end of the year without any problems... But you didn't think that what started as a temporary job would become a permanent job.

That's why you find yourself touching up your makeup backstage at a pole dance club, this has been your night life for 4 months straight, today is different because you have to work an extra day due to a special show.

Lila, your boss, enters backstage, drawing everyone's attention. “Listen up ladies, tonight we will have a special show because the F1 action in Las Vegas starts on Wednesday, so we will only be open today - Tuesday night, and tomorrow.” she said with a cocky smile on her face. “Plus we have some special people in the audience tonight, so get your shit together or else... You'll be dealing with me.” she said.

Most of the time when there is a big event that paralyzes the city you work only 3 days and the other days you use to rest, but this is enough because you assume from what Lila says, that the drivers will be making an appearance at the club tonight. Plus your shift is only supposed to be Thursday through Sunday, not Tuesday.

You sighed. “I don't want to do this Lila...” you say softly.

She stops and turns her gaze to you. “What do you mean? You know you have a contract, right?” she spats.

“But this is not my shift and I feel too uncomfortable and exposed.” you say. “This was supposed to be a summer-only job, and...” you were going to continue but she interrupted you.

“But anyway, you signed the contract and besides, you need money for your stupid shit, right?” she said and you blinked multiple times. “So you're gonna put on a good show tonight or else I'll make you spend the night with one of the patrons, was it clear to you?”

The patrons are the ones who keep the club afloat, they invest a lot of money in you and in drinks, drugs and so on. In the few months you've been there you've witnessed some pretty... nasty stuff, drugged up coworkers forced to have sex with one of these guys so they can give them some extra money. Luckily for you, you haven't been forced to do anything similar, you just dance and do the occasional VIP service, extra tip and that's it, but seeing the consequences of not wanting to work today, you have to put up with it.

“Okay miss...” you murmured shyly.

Lila smiled. “Everyone, be ready for our customers tonight.” she said and continued walking, you sighed.

You take a deep breath, wiping away a tear that came out of your eyes, smudging lightly your mascara, before stepping into the spotlight. You and your other companions go out on stage, you notice how the patrons are sitting up front with their drinks and cigarettes, as usual, but you notice new faces; most of the drivers are sitting in the VIP booth, each one sitting alone or with his colleagues. The music starts, and you begin your routine, trying to mask your emotions with your performance. As you dance, you catch glimpses of a driver who's watching you intently, his expression shifting from amusement to concern.

After finishing your routine, you watch as your boss motions for you to go the VIP booth number 16, you walk over there, your heart pounding in your chest. The driver is smiling, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes.

He's smiles gently. “Hey there, that was an incredible performance up there.” he says softly.

“Thanks, I... I appreciate it.” you say while forcing a smile.

You notice the way he studies you, his gaze lingering on the redness in your eyes and the light smudge under it. He hesitates for a moment before speaking again... “Are you okay? You seem… a bit upset.” he asks you softly.

You sighed. “It’s just been a long night... Nothing to worry about.” you whispered as you lied.

He nodded. “I can imagine, this place looks so intense.”

You look around the club, feeling the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on you.

“It can be... Overwhelming at times.” you say quietly.

The music shifts to a slower tempo, creating a more intimate atmosphere around your conversation. You stand before Charles and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Charles watches you with a mix of excitement, care and curiosity, his coloured eyes sparkling under the dim lights.

He smiles gently. “So, what do you say, little star? Just a little private dance to lighten the mood?” he says softly while calling you by your stage name.

“I mean... If that's what you want...” you say a little hesitant.

He nods reassuringly. “Trust me, it’ll be fun... Just be yourself.”

You feel a rush of adrenaline at his words. You’ve performed many times before, you've even done private dances several times with not so nice customers, but this feels different—more personal and somewhat intimate. You nod slowly, trying to shake off your nerves.

“Okay... I'll do it.” you say softly.

Charles grins, and you can see the excitement in his eyes. You step back slightly to create some space, allowing yourself to get into the right headspace... The music shifts to a sultry tune, and you begin to move to the rhythm.

As you dance, you focus on Charles, letting the music guide your movements. You sway your hips and let your body flow with the beat, feeling the tension ease away with each step. Charles leans back against the plush booth, watching you intently.

“You're incredible...” he whispers.

His words send a thrill through you, and you find yourself getting lost in the moment... You let go of any lingering doubts and worries and you just embrace the performance. You glide closer to him, allowing your body to move in sync with his gaze.

You continue your dance, incorporating playful movements that make him laugh and smile. The connection between you feels electric, and you find yourself enjoying this more than you anticipated.

“How's this for a private dance?” you asked him playfully, using your confident facade.

He grins. “It's perfect... More than I expected...”

You lock eyes with him, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. The laughter and chatter from other tables become a distant hum as you focus solely on him. As you move closer again, you notice how he leans forward, captivated by your performance. You playfully run your fingers along his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. You continue dancing, letting your body express what words cannot. You swirl around him, feeling free and alive as you lose yourself in the rhythm. The music pulses through your veins, and you can see the admiration in Charles' eyes as he watches you.

“You're amazing... This is better than I imagined.” he says with a low voice.

You smile at his compliment, feeling a rush of confidence surge through you, customers rarely compliment you or the girls. You step closer again, brushing against him as you dance, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

As the last notes of the song fade away, you take a deep breath and step back, allowing yourself to bask in the moment.

He clapped softly to you. “That was incredible! You really know how to put on a show.”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. The energy between you is palpable as he leans forward slightly.

“I think that deserves a special tip...” he says while grinning. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crisp stack of bills, holding them up with a playful glint in his eye. “What do you think? Is this enough? Or do you need more than that?” he says softly.

Your heart races as he counts out a hefty amount of cash that was wrapped in a paper before handing it to you with an appreciative smile. You wouldn't believe it, it was a big tip.

“Wow! Are... Are you serious?” you said surprised. “I can't take it, I'm...” you were about to say but he gently stopped you.

He smiled. “Don't say that, you deserve it! You deserve every bit of it for that amazing performance.”

You take the money from him, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief. It’s more than you expected for just one dance. “Tha... Thank you so much! This really means a lot to me.” you say softly.

“You earned it. And I hope this helps with whatever you're working towards.” He said sweetly and that made you stop.

“How... How do you know that...” you said in a low voice.

He looked around the club and then looked at you before slowly approaching you.

“There's no need to say anything, little star... Your gaze, those lost little eyes told me everything I need to know.” he said softly in a whisper. “Sometimes a look is enough to know a little bit about a person.” he said softly and you were shocked, you never thought that an F1 driver would be so empathetic and deeper.

“Wow, that was... Yeah...” you murmured. “Thank you again...” you say and pause, you still don't know his name.

“Oh, I'm Charles Leclerc.” he said formally. “But just call me Charles.” he smiled.

“Y/n” You answered him by giving him your name. You were going to tell him something else, but the bell indicating that you and the girls had to go backstage ruined the moment.

He smiled. “Well, I think they need you in there.” he said softly. “I really enjoyed this evening, the dancing was spectacular.” he said and you blushed.

“Y/n! Get your fucking slutty ass here!” your boss yelled harshly and you shook your head.

“I have to go, but thanks again Charles.” you said softly.

“It was nothing. Take care y/n, I hope to see you soon.” he said softly and you walked backstage.

As you entered your small dressing room you looked at the amount of money Charles had given you and a tear ran down your cheeks. You had never received such good treatment from a customer, the warmth and security of his person contrasting with the coldness and toxicity of the place. You sighed and put the money in your briefcase, thankful that someone had noticed your tearful gaze despite not saying anything about the anxiety and fear that constantly fill your life.

***

The weeks following your encounter with Charles unfold in a blur of routine and reflection. You find yourself back in the familiar rhythm of your daily life, but the vibrant energy of that night lingers in your mind like a bittersweet memory. The club’s atmosphere has shifted, and the pressures of your job weigh heavily on you.

You're sitting on your bed, surrounded by textbooks and notes from your psychology classes. The sunlight filters through the window, but it feels dimmer than usual, you flip through your notes absentmindedly, thoughts drifting back to that night.

“It was just one night… why can’t I stop thinking about it?” you say to yourself, while flipping through your notebook.

You recall Charles’s laughter, the way he looked at you with genuine interest and care, and the way he made you feel seen. But as days turn into weeks, that memory becomes a painful reminder of what you’re missing in your life.

You shake your head, trying to focus on your studies. But the thoughts keep creeping back in—what if you had exchanged numbers? What if you opened up to him and told him what you were going through at that very moment it didn't matter if he was a complete stranger? The “what ifs” swirl around like a storm in your mind... You couldn't fall in love with a stranger, much less an F1 driver, you're not supposed to let anyone into your life.

A few nights later, you’re back at work, but the energy feels different. The once vibrant atmosphere has turned toxic—patrons are more aggressive, and the laughter that used to fill the air is replaced with tension and judgment.

You stand behind the bar, pouring drinks for a group of rowdy customers who seem to take pleasure in belittling the staff. You try to brush off their nasty comments, but each jab feels like a weight added to your already heavy heart.

One of the customers spoke. “Hey you, why don’t you dance for us? We paid good money for this place! You little bratty bitch.” he said in a slurring way.

You force a smile, but inside, you feel a surge of anxiety, you want to disappear. The memory of Charles’s encouragement clashes with the reality of your current situation. You glance around, noticing how other staff members are also feeling the pressure from the patrons, they're demanding lately.

“May... Maybe later! Right now, let me get you another round of drinks.” you say while you attempt to light the mood.

As you turn away, you catch a glimpse of a co-worker, Sarah, who looks equally drained. She gives you a sympathetic nod, and you can tell she’s feeling the strain too. It is causing a lot of damage to all the girls, especially mentally, you have already seen several of them taking drugs in the bathrooms and backstage.

Sarah approaches you. “It’s getting worse here girl… I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” she says quietly while taking a cigarette out of her pocket.

You sigh, knowing exactly what she means. The club that once felt like an escape is now suffocating. Every night drags on, filled with rude customers and an overwhelming sense of dread. Your mental health begins to deteriorate as the pressure mounts.

Days turn into weeks, and you find yourself dealing with the weight of your job and studies because it feels unbearable. You spend more nights lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as thoughts spiral out of control. Obviously, in the midst of all the chaos, you became a bit of a F1 fan, especially keeping an eye on the green-eyed boy who had been so nice to you that night at the club, somehow, even though he was a complete stranger to you at the time, you felt so happy to see him shine in what he likes — something you wish would happen to you too.

One particularly rough night at work, a big fight breaks out between two patrons. The chaos erupts around you as glasses shatter and voices rise in anger, you feel frozen in place, overwhelmed by your anxiety and nerves.

Weeks pass, and the club continues to drain you. But you find solace in small moments—watching sunsets, reading books—but they’re fleeting against the backdrop of your reality. Your mental health spirals further as feelings of isolation creep in.

Tears well up in your eyes as frustration boils over. You wipe them away angrily, feeling trapped between the joy of the memory shared that night with Charles and the pain of your current life. And it shouldn't be affecting you so much, he was just a costumer...

***

The atmosphere is electric as the club transforms for the Christmas season, twinkling lights adorn the bar, and festive decorations create a warm ambiance amidst the usual chaos. You stand in the backstage, heart racing, preparing for one last performance before your well deserved break from the club and your classes. The familiar sounds of laughter and chatter filter through the curtains, but today, they feel different.

You are in the backstage, pacing nervously as you go over your routine in your mind. The stage is set, and the crowd buzzes with excitement. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

You take a deep breath. “Just one last performance… You can do this.” you say in a whisper to you.

As the music starts and the spotlight shines on you, you step onto the stage. The audience erupts in applause, but your eyes scan the crowd anxiously. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—some co-workers, and regular patrons, nothing new—but then your heart skips a beat. There he is—Charles, standing near the front, his smile bright against the dim lighting.

Your breath hitches in your throat as a flood of emotions washes over you. Memories of that night come rushing back—the laughter, the slight connection, the promise of something more. But doubt creeps in, and you feel a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach...

“Why is he here? Is this just a fleeting visit? Or is it for something else?” you think, you can't help but wonder that.

You force yourself to focus on the performance, pouring your heart into every movement. As you dance, you try to ignore the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind... But each time you glance at Charles, you feel an overwhelming mix of hope and fear.

The performance reaches its climax, and the crowd cheers enthusiastically. You finish with a flourish, feeling a rush of adrenaline as you take your final bow. The applause reverberates in your ears, but your gaze remains fixed on Charles.

As you step offstage, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you navigate through the backstage area toward the bar. You can feel Charles’s presence behind you, and a mix of excitement and dread builds within you.

“Whoa! That was incredible! I’ve missed seeing you perform, little star.” he says as he approaches you with a smile on his face.

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you’re speechless. You take a moment to absorb his presence—his familiar warmth, his genuine admiration.

“Tha... Thanks... It's been a while since I felt that good on stage.” you say shyly.

You glance around nervously as other staff members and Sarah pass by, some offering nods of recognition to Charles. You can’t help but feel exposed under their scrutiny.

“Do you want to talk somewhere quieter?” he says softly while noticing your discomfort.

You hesitate for a bit. “Yeah... I guess that would be nice.”

You lead him to a small break room at the back of the club—a space filled with mismatched furniture and remnants of holiday treats. The atmosphere feels intimate compared to the bustling club outside.

Once inside, the door closes behind you, muffling the noise from the main area. You lean against the counter, arms crossed defensively as you try to gauge his intentions.

“So, ehm... What brings you back to Vegas? I thought you were busy with racing and all that stuff...” you asked him cautiously.

“Yeah, well, I was busy... but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to see how you’re doing—like, really doing.” he sighed and smiled at you.

His sincerity strikes a chord within you, but doubt still lingers. You remember how hard it is to open up before and how vulnerable it made you feel.

“Well... Things have been tough lately… work has been overwhelming...” you say while biting your lip.

Suddenly everything you have experienced in the last few months comes to your head, the humiliation, the mockery, the objectification, anxiety, the sacrifices you make to make ends meet and have enough money for everything you need and, without expecting it, your eyes fill with tears. A part of you longs for validation and support, but another part fears being let down again.

“Oh, don't cry little star, it's okay...” he says while he holds you in his arms and caresses your hair. “It's so okay, let it out.”

You sniffled. “It’s just that… I don’t know if I can trust anyone right now... Everything feels so chaotic; my life feels so chaotic and messier.”

Charles looks down at you, his expression earnest and understanding. “I get that... Trust takes time, but I’m here for you if you want to talk about it, I want to help.” he wipes a tear form your cheek.

You feel a flicker of hope ignite within you at his words. The vulnerability in his voice reminds you of that connection you shared—the one that felt so real yet so distant now.

“It’s hard for me to open up…” you say in a whisper.

“You don’t have to share everything all at once with me. Just know that I’m here to listen whenever you're ready, okay?” he says softly.

His patience reassures you, but fear still grips your heart. You remember how easily things can change—how quickly trust can be broken.

“I’ve been feeling lost… like I’m stuck in this cycle that I can’t escape.” you say while looking down.

He nodded. “And it’s so okay to feel that way, we all go through rough patches. What matters is that we can still find a way out... together.” he smiles at you.

You meet his gaze again, searching for sincerity in his eyes. There’s no judgment there—only care, understanding and compassion... Something you've been needing to find for a long time and now a stranger is giving it to you.

***

As the days rolled on, the festive spirit of Las Vegas enveloped you both. The city transformed into a dazzling wonderland, with sparkling lights adorning every corner and the joyous sounds of holiday celebrations filling the air. You and Charles made the most of your time together, exploring the vibrant culture and indulging in the culinary delights that the city had to offer.

On Christmas Eve, you found yourselves in a cozy café nestled within one of the extravagant hotels. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of baked goods, creating an inviting atmosphere. You sat across from each other, warm mugs cradled in your hands, and the soft glow of fairy lights twinkling around you.

As you sipped your drink, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence... Charles had a way of making everything feel lighter, as if the burdens you carried were shared between you. But there was still a part of you that hesitated to delve deeper into your past, to reveal the struggles that lay beneath your cheerful façade.

“So, do you have any special traditions for Christmas?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

You smiled softly, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “Ehm... Not really, to be honest.” you admitted, looking down at your mug. “My family doesn’t celebrate much anymore... It’s just… complicated.”

He leaned in slightly, his expression encouraging. “Complicated how? If I may know.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, my family never really supported my choice to study psychology.” you began hesitantly. “They always thought it was a waste of time, they wanted me to pursue something more… practical.”

Charles nodded, his face reflecting understanding. “That must have been hard for you.” he said gently.

“It was.” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always wanted to help people, to understand their emotions and struggles. But when the people closest to you don’t believe in your dreams… it’s hard not to feel like you’re on the wrong path.” you say softly.

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours in a reassuring gesture. “You’re not on the wrong path, little star. You’re doing something incredibly important.”

You appreciated his support, but the doubt still lingered in your mind. “It’s just… I didn’t have their financial support either.” you confessed, feeling vulnerable. “I’ve had to work multiple jobs to pay for school, including the job at the pole dance club... It’s so exhausting.”

Charles listened intently, his brow furrowing slightly as he absorbed your words. “That sounds really tough, I can’t imagine how isolating that must feel.”

You nodded, grateful for his empathy. “It is isolating.” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve lost touch with friends who didn’t understand my commitment to my studies. It’s like I’m in this bubble where no one else really gets what I’m going through.”

He squeezed your hand gently, grounding you in that moment. “You’re not alone now.” he reassured you. “I’m here for you, and I want to understand what you’re experiencing.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, encouraging you to share more.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in this cycle of loneliness.” you confessed, tears welling up in your eyes. “I want to connect with others, but it’s hard when I feel so different from everyone else.”

Charles leaned closer, his voice soft and steady. “You’re not different in a bad way; you’re pursuing something meaningful. And those who truly care about you will see that...”

You looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” he replied firmly. “You have so much passion and drive. That’s something to be proud of.”

As the conversation continued, you found yourself opening up more than you had anticipated. You shared stories of late nights spent studying, the moments of self-doubt that crept in during exams, and the fleeting joy of helping others during your internships.

His belief in you sparked something deep within—a flicker of hope that perhaps you weren’t as alone as you had felt for so long... The more you talked, the more liberated you felt from the weight of isolation that had clung to you for years.

***

The week leading up to New Year’s was always a time of reflection, a time when the world seemed to pause and take stock of the year gone by. The air was crisp, and the city sparkled with festive lights, but inside your cozy apartment, it was just the two of you—Charles and you—wrapped in a bubble of warmth and anticipation.

You had decided to spend the week together, a decision that felt both thrilling and terrifying. You could feel the chemistry bubbling between you—an electric charge that seemed to hum in the air whenever he was near, but with that chemistry came the fear of what it would mean if you let yourself fall for him.

As the sun began to set on the last day of the year, you and Charles found yourselves sprawled on the couch, surrounded by snacks and half-watched Christmas movies. The soft glow of fairy lights twinkled around the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that made your heart race, you glanced sideways at him, his profile illuminated by the flickering light from the TV. He looked so relaxed, his hair slightly tousled and a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he focused on the screen.

“Do you ever think about New Year’s resolutions?” Charles asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned your head to look at him fully. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “But I’m not very good at keeping them.” you giggled.

He chuckled softly. “Same here, I usually start strong, but by February, I’ve forgotten all about them.”

“What do you think this year’s should be?” you asked playfully, trying to keep the conversation light.

He pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing adorably. “Maybe something like… be more spontaneous? Or try to embrace change?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Embrace change? That sounds deep!”

“Yeah, well.” he said with a shrug. “I think it’s important to be open to new experiences, you never know what could happen.”

His words struck a chord within you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was hinting at something more—something between the two of you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

“What about you?” he asked, turning the question back to you. “What do you want for this coming year?”

You hesitated, your heart racing as you considered your answer. Part of you wanted to say something lighthearted, but another part yearned for honesty.

“I guess… I want to be braver.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Braver?” he echoed, his gaze intense as he studied your face. “In what way?”

You swallowed hard, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. “In life… in love.” you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve always been scared of getting hurt, so I hold back.”

He nodded slowly, understanding washing over his features. “That makes sense.” he said softly. “It’s hard to let someone in when you’re afraid of what might happen.”

You felt a connection deepen between you in that moment—a shared understanding of vulnerability that made your heart ache with longing.

“Exactly.” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “But I think… maybe I want to try.”

Charles’s expression softened as he leaned closer to you, his eyes searching yours for something unspoken. “Try what?” he asked gently.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your words hang in the air between you. “Try to let myself feel more… to let someone in.” Your heart raced as you said it, the truth spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He held your gaze steadily, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded away until it was just the two of you—two souls intertwined in a moment of raw honesty.

“I’d like that.” he said finally, his voice low and sincere. “I’d like to be that person for you.”

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his words, but with it came a wave of fear... What if this was too much? What if falling for him meant risking everything? You pulled back slightly, breaking eye contact as uncertainty clouded your mind.

“Charles…” you started, but he interrupted gently.

“Hey.” he said softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent sparks through your skin, and you shivered involuntarily at his closeness. “We don’t have to rush into anything, I just want you to know that I’m here.”

His sincerity made your heart swell and ache all at once. You wanted so desperately to lean into him—to let yourself fall into this beautiful connection—but fear held you back like an anchor.

“Can we just… take it slow?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Of course we can do that.” he replied without hesitation. “I’d never want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

You smiled gratefully at him, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Maybe this was enough for now—just being here together, exploring this slow burn without any pressure or expectations.

As the evening wore on and the clock ticked closer to midnight, you found yourselves lost in conversation—sharing stories about childhood dreams and future aspirations, laughter punctuating each moment as the bond between you deepened.

At one point, Charles reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his touch sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and for a moment, all your fears faded away.

As midnight approached, the anticipation in the air grew thick with excitement. You settled back against the couch, feeling giddy as Charles pulled out his phone to check the time.

“Just a few minutes left!” he exclaimed with a grin.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him; his enthusiasm was infectious. He glanced at you then, his expression softening as he leaned closer again.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

“For what?” you asked teasingly.

“For whatever comes next.” he replied earnestly.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words—so simple yet so profound. In that moment, everything felt possible. You nodded slowly, feeling a rush of courage wash over you.

“Yes...” you whispered.

As the countdown began on TV, excitement bubbled between you like champagne ready to overflow. With each passing second, your heart raced faster until finally…

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupted in cheers from the television as confetti fell on-screen and fireworks lit up the sky outside your window. But all that mattered was Charles—his eyes sparkling with joy as he turned to face you.

And then it happened: he leaned in closer and pressed his lips against yours—a soft yet electrifying kiss that sent shivers down your spine. It was tentative yet filled with promise; a beautiful beginning wrapped in hope and possibility.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him back, savoring the sweet taste of new beginnings and uncharted territory. In that moment, all your fears melted away as if they had never existed at all.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, Charles smiled at you—a smile that lit up his entire face and made your heart soar.

“Happy New Year, petite ��toile.” he murmured softly. (little star)

“Happy New Year charlie.” you echoed, feeling lighter than air as hope blossomed within you—a hope for what this year might bring and for the journey ahead with him by your side.

And as fireworks exploded outside your window, illuminating the night sky with vibrant colors, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just maybe—you were ready to embrace whatever came next together.

***

The days turned into weeks, and your bond with Charles deepened in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Each moment spent together felt like a new adventure, filled with laughter, shared secrets, and the warmth of companionship.

One evening, after a delightful dinner at a cozy restaurant, you found yourselves walking along the waterfront, the moonlight shimmering on the water's surface. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine, you felt a sense of peace wash over you as you strolled side by side, your fingers intertwined.

As you walked, Charles suddenly stopped, turning to face you with a serious expression that caught you off guard. “Can we talk about something?” he asked, his voice low and earnest.

Your heart raced slightly as you nodded. “Of course babe! What’s on your mind?”

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us—about how much I care for you. You mean more to me than I can express.” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I want to take care of you in every way possible.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, unsure where this conversation was leading but intrigued nonetheless. “What do you mean?” you asked softly.

Charles stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I want to be your sugar daddy.” he said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “And I know it sounds weird, but it's not in a bad way, I mean, I want to support you while you study psychology, to help you leave behind all the stress and worries that weigh you down.”

Your mind raced as you processed his words. The idea of having someone like Charles in your life—someone who wanted to provide for you, who believed in your dreams and aspirations—was both exhilarating and daunting.

“Are you serious?” you managed to ask, your heart pounding.

“Absolutely!” he replied without hesitation. “I want us to build a life together. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I believe we could be so much more than what we are now.” He paused, gauging your reaction before continuing. “I want you to move out of Las Vegas and come with me to Monaco.”

The mention of Monaco sent a thrill through you. The thought of leaving behind the familiar chaos of city life for a place known for its beauty and luxury was intoxicating, but it also brought a wave of uncertainty.

“Monaco? That’s such a big step, Charles.” you said, trying to process everything. “But... What about my studies?” you asked softly.

Charles smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course you can continue your studies there! They have excellent universities, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need to succeed.” he said softly at you.

His words resonated deep within you, igniting a spark of hope and excitement that had long been dormant. The idea of pursuing your passion for psychology without the burden of financial stress felt like a dream come true.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” you asked, vulnerability creeping into your voice. “What if I can’t adjust?”

Charles cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and reassuring. “Life is about taking risks, isn't it? And I believe in us—more than anything else in this world! I promise to be there every step of the way, you won’t be alone; we’ll figure it out together.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, and for the first time, you felt the weight of your worries begin to lift. The thought of embarking on this journey with him filled you with a sense of possibility.

“Okay.” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try.”

A radiant smile broke across Charles’s face as he pulled you into his arms, enveloping you in warmth and safety. “You won’t regret this, mon amour.” he whispered against your hair. (my love)

In that moment, everything felt so right to you... The world around you faded away as he held you close, and all that mattered was the connection between the two of you—a bond that had grown from two strangers into something deeper and more profound...

As the stars twinkled above like diamonds scattered across the night sky, you knew that this was just the beginning of an incredible journey together—one filled with love, adventure, and the promise of a brighter future.

***

The soft hum of the city outside your window filled the room as the moonlight spilled in, casting a silvery glow over your study room. You had been immersed in your psychology textbooks, determined to master the material before your upcoming class. However, fatigue had crept in, and before you knew it, you had succumbed to sleep, your head resting on your notes, surrounded by the comforting chaos of your studies.

Charles had just returned from a long day of meetings with sponsors, his mind still buzzing with the events of the day. He was looking forward to spending time with you, but as he stepped into your study room, he was met with a scene that made his heart swell... There you were, curled up on the desk, your little stuffed bear nestled beside you, as if it were standing guard while you slept.

A soft smile spread across his face at the sight. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little Sleepy Scholar.” he whispered affectionately, approaching you with quiet steps. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he began to pick up the scattered books, papers and highlighters on the table. “You really should consider changing your name to ‘Overworked Wonder.'” he teased gently, glancing down at your peaceful expression.

As he organized your notes, he found himself admiring how well you had adapted to life in Monaco. You had embraced the city with open arms, exploring its beauty and charm while pursuing your studies with unwavering determination. It filled him with pride and love to see you thriving after everything you had faced back in Vegas.

His fingers brushed against the plush bear, and he couldn’t resist giving it a gentle squeeze. “And look who’s here to protect my precious girl, hm?” he said with a playful grin. “You’re doing a fantastic job, Mr. Bear!”

With everything neatly arranged, he turned his attention back to you. The sight of you sleeping so soundly tugged at his heartstrings. He knew how hard you had been working and how much this new chapter meant to you, he wanted nothing more than to take care of you, to ensure that you felt safe and loved in this new place.

Gently, he slipped his arms under your body, lifting you effortlessly from the desk. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake as he cradled you against him. “Time for bed, my little scholar.” he murmured softly, the warmth of your body against his bringing him a sense of peace. “You need a deserved rest in a comfy bed.”

He carried you to the bedroom, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible over the gentle lapping of waves outside. As he laid you down on the bed, he carefully tucked the covers around you, ensuring that you were warm and comfortable. The plush bear found its place beside you once more, as if it were keeping watch over you in your dreams.

Charles took a moment to admire you—your features relaxed in sleep, a serene expression gracing your face. The love he felt for you swelled within him as he brushed a stray hair away from your forehead. “Sweet dreams, my love.” he whispered softly before slipping into bed beside you.

As he settled in next to you, the day’s exhaustion caught up with him. He turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand and watching you sleep for a moment longer. The way you breathed peacefully filled him with an overwhelming sense of contentment, It felt like everything was right in the world.

But soon enough, the weight of fatigue pulled at him too. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the bed and the comfort of your presence. As sleep enveloped him, dreams began to weave their way into his mind—visions of laughter-filled days exploring Monaco’s stunning coastline together, quiet evenings spent sharing stories under starlit skies, and a future filled with love and promise.

In that shared moment of tranquility, two hearts beat as one—connected by love and trust, embracing the beauty of their journey together. The world outside faded away as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, knowing that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead side by side.

As the night wore on, Charles found himself wrapped in dreams filled with laughter and light—a reflection of the joy you brought into his life. And in that serene space, both of you slept soundly, cocooned in warmth and love in your new home in Monaco.

[sunsburns]

just saw your recent post!

can you write yandere dick grayson? (can be a drabble, heacanon, fic or anything i will eat it up because your writing is mwah) it's okay if you don't want to write it, just wanna say this in case you do :)) thanks for taking the time to read this!?

oh my god. (18+, voyeurism)

yandere!dick grayson has a terrible dread knawing in the pits of his stomach whenever he sees you. it comes from his gut, twisting and turning everything in its wake as it slowly crawls up, up and up into his throat, having it close up the second you look his way.

you send him soft smiles and shy waves. he crumbles into dust every single time.

but you're friends. good friends who met through a mutual friend at a bar. friends who get along well, who get brunch together once a week if life doesn't get in the way.

he's your friend and he looks out for you, keeps tabs on you, and remembers the stories you tell him, all the little details. (the chipped nail polish on your left thumb as you wave your hand around while the two of you were grabbing drinks one night. the slight twitch of your lip when you briefly mention how the guy who used to bother you at work suddenly leaves you alone.) dick likes to remember those things about you.

he likes to walk you home, to hug you before you turn around. he likes the way your body presses against his, how your arms wrap themselves around his shoulders and next, his own holding your waist closely. he thinks you fit against him perfectly.

dick only wants to make sure you get home safely, because who knows what could happen in the streets of gotham if a pretty thing like you walks alone in the dark?

there can be creeps lurking, eyeing you, following you. watching, waiting for that split second you turn around—your dress fluttering in the late breeze, the peek of your ass before you push the skirt down and hurry up the steps to your apartment building, waving at dick before stepping inside.

yeah, it would be terrible.

dick never would have considered himself a pervert, he would never call himself that. oh, but that dread that claws at him whenever you're around has him doubting himself sometimes. because how can he excuse his lingering eyes? how can he excuse the bruises on his knuckles after he beats a guy because you mentioned, barely, how he gave you a bad feeling.

well...

maybe he can brush it off because the next day you're huffing over his wounds, touching him, cleaning the crusted blood off of them, kissing the bruise.

maybe he can brush it off as taking care of you. watching you through your wide-open blinds, he can see you sleeping during those late nights on patrol. he just wants to make sure you're okay.

he just wants to make sure that there's no one hiding in the shadows of your bedroom whenever you step out of the shower, skin still wet when you toss the towel aside.

dick thought you were gorgeous. and you are. of course, other people were going to stare, but during the night, late into the after-hours, when you're alone in your bed, he makes sure that no one else can see you.

that no one else can hear the quiet sighs and moans you make when you touch yourself, how flustered you get, how your skin glows in the faint moonlight of gotham while you quiver under the sheets, lips parted and shaking, brows furrowed deeply.

dick makes mental notes of everything you do, every little detail marked to memory.

and yeah, he feels guilty. this clearly isn't how friends work, and there's probably someone getting mugged down the street that he should be helping, but staying by your window seems like a better way to spend the night.

[just-j-really]

Additional Dreamling hanahaki AU idea, which I am fond of enough to make its own post:

Hob fell hard for Dream in 1489, and unfortunately immediately got hanahaki about it. Fortunately, it's a weirdly manageable level of hanahaki. Like, the immortality bit definitely helps, but it progresses much slower than your average case of hanahaki, and it seems to reset, or at least get markedly better, every time he sees Dream.

He still never gets a chance to tell Dream about it. In 1589 he's got a five-step 'Impress him. Have a conversation with him that isn't about immortality. Flirt a little. Use whatever information I get to figure out if I can seduce him. Go from there.' plan that just immediately goes to shit. It's the least of his worries in 1689, in 1789 he doesn't have the chance, and in 1889 he attempts to reach out again (less a calculated 'sweep him off his feet' this time and more a 'hey, we're friends, do you ever see the possibility of us being something more?') and of course Dream balks at the friends part and that goes to hell.

An then 1989 rolls around, Dream doesn't show up, and the once-a-century reset button Hob had been depending on just. Doesn't happen.

He's in bad shape when Dream finally shows up thirty-odd years later.

Eventually Dream gets the whole story out of him (it takes a bit- Hob is afraid of scaring him off again, and once Dream tells Hob why he missed their meeting, Hob's got the additional worry of 'how to explain without making him feel even worse about being imprisoned for over a century').

And once Dream does get the explanation, he immediately connects the dots incorrectly: hanahaki is born of unrequited love, and Hob always seems to recover from his case whenever he sees Dream. This of course means that being subjected to the full force of Dream's unloveable terrible self is causing Hob's feelings for Dream to wane. So he decides to meet up with Hob more often (but not too often, he wants Hob to still want to be his friend, even if those romantic feelings fade).

Cue a horrific misunderstanding. The facts of the situation are that A: Dream is slowly falling in love with Hob. He'd been nursing a tiny little potential crush for centuries, hence their meetings giving Hob that little reprieve, but he only starts actually falling for him when they start spending time together. This means that B: Hob is recovering. It also means that C: Hob's feelings are getting exponentially, monumentally worse by virtue of having his crush nearby so often, and occasionally looking at Hob as though he could possibly feel the same way.

Dream, only aware of points A and B, has confirmed his suspicion that he's horrible and unlovable and his presence has caused Hob to stop loving him. (And like. Yes. The other conclusion, that Hob's recovering because his feelings are requited, is, in fact, right there. Dream is far too primed to believe himself unlovable to make that leap.) He's also having a Real Bad Time emotionally because he's DEVASTATED that Hob doesn't love him anymore and also just. So, so glad to see Hob healthy. The Dreaming is experiencing freak thunderstorms midway through, and occasionally at the same time as, perfect sunny days.

Hob, only aware of points B and C, is confused. He's still in love, so that can't be what's caused his recovery, and Dream hasn't mentioned returning Hob's feelings, so clearly that can't be it either. Dream's some sort of eldritch god-being, it makes as much sense as anything that he can somehow suppress hanahaki. And Hob can live with that, he's perfectly happy with Dream as his friend. (Honestly he's probably three quarters of the way to figuring it out, if nothing else Dream keeps bringing him gifts and it's beginning to make him suspicious, but he just... doesn't think Dream would withhold that information when he knows Hob's unrequited love was factually killing him.)

Thus follows months of mutual pining. They're essentially living together, at least from Hob's perspective- Dream meets him after work, unless he has some other plans, and sticks around until he falls asleep. He's not there when Hob wakes up, but it's overall absurdly similar to living with a partner who works early mornings. Hob is also Having Some Feelings about this.

Thing is, though, they're getting closer (despite the fact that Hob is clearly falling out of love with Dream), and Dream ends up eventually explaining who/what he is.

And then-

"Oh," Hob says. "Is that how you're doing this?"

"Doing what?" Dream asks, nonplussed. They're in the Waking world, at a table in the back corner of the New Inn. Dream isn't doing much besides keeping a curious eye on one of the bartenders' daydreams of social media stardom, and even then, he's not sure how Hob would know that.

"No," Hob says, his voice low. "How you cured me. I've been dreaming of a cure for centuries, did you make that come true, somehow?"

A rush of hurt and anger nearly overpowers Dream, but Hob's looking at him with such genuine, earnest curiosity, a touch of admiration, and he realizes the truth. Hob wouldn't be the first person to fall out of love with Dream and fail to realize it, continuing to go through the motions until every trace of affection for Dream was destroyed.

He isn't sure if it's for his own sake or for Hob's that he says, "Have you considered that there may be an ordinary cause for your recovery?" and waits for the sword to fall.

"Oh," Hob whispers. Dream watches as the realization dawns on his face, only- he doesn't look disgusted, or angry, or disappointed. There's relief there, yes, which Dream had expected. He hadn't excepted joy, but there it is, the same all-encompassing happiness he sees every time he asks Hob what he thinks of his immortality.

Dream should not resent this. Loving him has only caused Hob pain, he should not resent that it is a joy for him to be freed. Still, it takes all his strength to keep the storm that is currently drenching the Dreaming from manifesting in his physical form.

He must not succeed, because Hob's expression is slowly shuttered by worry. "You're sure?" he asks, quietly.

Even when Dream had found him all those months ago, flowers clogging his lungs, unable to seek help for fear of what his fellow humans might do to him, he had not looked this fragile.

"I am Dream," he admits, staring at Hob's hand where it rests next to his on the table. As though it could make this any easier if he refuses to look at Hob's face. "It is not within my power to cure you in the Waking."

Silence. Far too much silence; if there is one thing Hob should not be, it is silent.

Hob's hand reaches out to cover Dream's, gentle as snow covering a corpse.

"Oh, love," he says, his voice just as gentle, "You did."

In a sense, yes, he had, by proving to Hob that he was not a creature to be loved. But if that were true, then why-

"I should have said something," Hob says. "Weeks ago, I should have-" He cuts himself off and squeezes Dream's hand, sending a shock of hope through Dream; he's discovered that the person he'd thought to be dead in the snow is still breathing. And Hob's hand is warm, a hearthfire when he'd lingered so long in the cold.

"Dream," Hob says, as solemn as Dream has ever heard him, "I have never stopped loving you."

He says it with the same certainty he'd told Dream, centuries ago, that he had too much to live for, and once again Dream can only stare at him in awe. There are very few things that a creature such as Dream might consider a miracle, but Hob, he thinks, is one of them. Perhaps one day he will find the words to tell him so.

For now, he threads his fingers with Hob's.

(and then they very slowly and cautiously start up a romantic relationship, Dream very worried that Hob will stop loving him and Hob very worried that Dream will get scared and leave, each of them trying to gently reassure the other that no I love you I'll stay as long as you want me. and eventually they both realize that they're on the same page there, and 'as long as you want me' is 'forever')

[angelpuns]

Donnie practically pushed Mikey out of the way to get through the door, squeezing past him just in time to see the fading blue of one of Leo's portals. 

He’d barely had time to grab his bo, head still fuzzy from sleep and pajama pants uncomfortably askew from Being woken suddenly. 

Mikey was in a similar state of disarray, his shirt riding up his shell and his eyes wide and glancing around the room wildly. 

They'd both been woken by Leo's shouting, rushing out of bed to help their brother only to find Raph in a Leo-free train car. 

“Raph? What happened? Why was he yelling?” 

As his brain woke up, he was reminded of their mission for the day: reverse Leo's ‘family-forgetting’ curse or whatever it was. 

So it probably had something to do with that. 

“I dunno! I came ta wake him up like he asked me to yesterday and he just- he started shoutin' at me!” Raph turned, holding his hand to a small cut on his arm. It bled sluggishly, and Donnie quickly opened a drawer in Leo's desk that he knew had band-aids. 

“ He musta had a nightmare or somethin’, I tried to help but I think I only made it worse “ Raph worried, letting Donnie slap the band-aid over the cut, “ he didn't seem ta recognize me or know where he was or anythin' “ 

They were silent for a moment, before Mikey piped up. 

“ But he’s never made a portal during a panic attack before….are you sure it was that, I mean-”

“ oh my banana pancakes,” Donnie slapped a hand to his head. His mind had been running through every possible Leo could have ‘woken up and chosen violence’. 

It could have been a nightmare. But the answer was so obviously related to their current curse-relted predicament. 

“ The curse! It’s not- He didn’t just forget us the one time, “ He explained, starting to pace. An uncomfortably hot feeling pooled in his stomach, anxiety bubbling up from there. He shook his hands out in an attempt to dispel the feeling, the lingering worry about Leo now being somewhere totally random making him nauseous. 

“ It's- its like he resets! He must have forgotten again when he went to sleep- like- like he just got reset overnight!” He rambled, grimacing, “ This complicates everything, how’re we gonna get him to cooperate if he wakes up with a different reaction to three strangers every single day!? How are we gonna fix this is if he forgets the curse even exists!?”

Raph stopped him, hands on shoulders. 

“ Donnie, take a breath,” he sighed, and Donnie reluctantly stopped and shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly. 

“We can get him back, no problem,” Raph smiled, “ ya still got that tracker in ‘im, right?” 

Donnie blinked. Right, how could he forget? 

“ of course! TO THE LAB!” he whipped around and hurried for the door, trusting they'd follow him. 

“ I'm sure ‘Nardo can fend for himself, he does have his swords,” He noted, if only to make himself feel a little less anxious, “ but I would rather him not be wandering the streets of NYC without half of his memories.” 

He continues to ramble, even as he stepped into his lab and  whipped out his keyboard, quickly pulling up the tracking device coordinates and corresponding map. 

“What if he doesn't come home before night? Will he just forget us again?” Mikey asked, swiping some stuff off of Donnie's desk and taking a seat on the surface.

Mikey suddenly gasped, grinning, " this is just like that one movie! With Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore!"

Donnie grimaced, but he had bigger concerns right now. Even if those were parts to a pretty important project. He opted to ignore that and just think harder about the actual matter at hand. And the plot of 50 First Dates. Just in case it could actually help them somehow.

“ I assume so, yes. And that amnesia-riddled plot is more medically related, so sort of but not really."

"What's more concerning is that he probably won't remember why he's out there, and that will probably introduce more anxiety to the mix,” Donnie murmured, watching as Leo's indicator moved slowly through the streets of New York. He was on then other side of the river, and seemed to be hopping rooftops for now, “ like I said, he can take care of himself, but we should at least try and convince him to come back to the lair before nightfall. I don't know if his amnesia is progressing or not yet, which is also concerning.” 

Silence again. There was also the obvious concern about Leo being gone. Which, unfortunately, seemed to be one of the more difficult things they'd been collectively working through. 

The first six months or so, Leo was never left alone. Not for lack of trusting him or thinking he wasn't capable of taking care of himself ( although he was fairly injured for most of that time ) but for the fact that none of them seemed to want to let him out of their sight. It was partially why Donnie had upgraded the trackers to track their vital signs down to their blood pressure. He didn't like not knowing. He didn't like remembering the feeling of Leo being gone after- 

Donnie let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. It was gonna be okay. Leo wasn't gone, he just wasn't in the lair. And he couldn't possibly know how anxiety inducing that was due to the aforementioned amnesia-curse. 

But they knew where he was, and they knew he was okay for now. 

The computer suddenly let out a beep. then another. Donnie looked up, watching as Leo's dot stopped moving. His heart rate increased, and the beeping increased with it. 

There was one thing that they hadn't really accounted for, after all. 

The chance of Leo ending up in a fight.

-----

Part 3 to the unnamed fic/au/whatever this is

I don't like this part as much, but I really am just trying to get the idea out of my head and into writing, haha! So I hope the OOC-ness of everybody isn't too bad :)

I think this would def work better as a fic, but I am kinda wanting to explore it as a comic too. Comics just take a lot of time and I can't do all the fun thought-stuff I like to do on fics so :/

Ah well I will simply keep doing whatever I want, so enjoy.

Part 1 | Part 2

[blueblossomrose]

Pairing: Fellow Honest x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fellow sees you in Playful Land with your friends, thinks you're a rich girl by the way you act and the fact that you study at Night Raven College, and tries to get money from you, only to end up falling in love.

Notice(s): Inspired by "The Lady and the Tramp", Female reader, Reader is the MC, but Yuu(ken Enma) is also here, not nsfw but slightly spicy? We kinda have a french kiss here.

Request?: No.

Notes: I refuse to call him Ernesto, except in a specific Rapunzel-like fanfic where he is Eugene.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

He could have sworn you were a rich girl. I mean, look at the way you carried yourself! Like a true lady. Eyes wide open, paying attention to everything and everyone, with a polite and kind smile on your face. Your excitement was restrained but evident. You always sat with your legs crossed.

As if your good behavior wasn't evidence enough, you were still wearing that damn uniform. Night Raven College. An elite school.

He didn't think he needed more. He has his conclusion.

Even if you are not extremely rich, some money you must have. And he will get it from you. He and Gidel need it more than you do, anyway.

He thought about how he could do this. First he had to separate you from your friends. Leave you alone with him.

Fellow approached slowly, like a predator carefully observing its prey. He adjusted his posture, donned an unassuming smile, and gave you a slight nod. He knew he needed to be strategic, charming, but not invasive. After all, winning over someone like you required delicacy.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re enjoying our park with such enthusiasm. It’s always a pleasure to see such a charming visitor here.”

You looked at him curiously, a glint of surprise and interest dancing in your eyes. He knew he had your attention.

“Oh, yes, it’s a wonderful place!” you replied, your voice polite but with a touch of excitement. “I didn’t know it would be so much fun!”

Fellow made a gesture of slight mock indignation, placing a hand on his chest.

“Are you saying you underestimated our Playful Land? Oh, that breaks my heart!” He let out a light, relaxed laugh, as if you were already friends. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying it. By the way, let me introduce myself: I’m Fellow Honest, one of the park’s managers.”

“Manager?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. He nodded, as if carrying a weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

“Of course. Not only do I help take care of the park, but I also make sure our guests have the best experience possible. And speaking of which…” He glanced around, as if searching for something. “I noticed your friends seem a little scattered. It’s a shame to leave you alone.”

You shakes your head, showing that you were comfortable on your own. “They went to explore some attractions. I preferred to stay here for a while.”

It was exactly the break Fellow needed. He gestured with his hand, as if he were putting on a great show.

“In that case, perhaps I could be your companion? I can show you the secrets of this place that no one else knows about. After all, it’s not often we have such special guests.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. There was something in his eyes, in the way he spoke, that was hard to resist. “Okay, of course! Why not?”

Fellow’s smile widened, and he offered his hand, like a gentleman ready to lead her. Inwardly, he cheered. This was the first step in the plan.

But as they walked together, something unexpected began to happen. As he talked about the park, making jokes and telling charming stories, Fellow noticed something he hadn’t expected. There was something in your laughter, in the way you responded to his words, that made his heart race. It wasn’t the kind of racing that came from getting what you wanted, but something more genuine, more dangerous.

He tried to ignore it. He tried to remind himself that this was a scam, nothing more. But with every step you took together, with every smile you gave him, he felt the plan begin to slip away from his control. Why, suddenly, couldn’t he stop looking at you?

It got to the point where the two of you finally arrived at the location Fellow had so carefully planned. It was a corner in the back of a restaurant, near one of the park’s quieter attractions, where there was little traffic. Despite its modest location, the place felt cozy. String lights hung unassumingly, illuminating the space with a soft, golden glow, creating a curiously intimate atmosphere.

Fellow pulled out one of the chairs for you, giving you a slight theatrical bow as he spoke. “Milady, allow me to offer you a seat in our 'VIP area'. Not all visitors are lucky enough to experience this!”

You laughed softly at the act, accepting the chair. Fellow seemed pleased with your answer, but there was a hint of nervousness in his smile that he quickly tried to hide. He discreetly signaled to Gidel, who was hiding behind a nearby dumpster, waiting for the right moment.

As you looked around, taking in the peculiar surroundings, Fellow quickly took the chair next from you, leaning slightly closer to you. He propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand, as if he was completely absorbed by your presence.

As soon as Gidel brought the food, you couldn't help but just eat it. You liked to eat a lot, and personally you stopped holding back.

Fellow watched in shock as you shoveled a spoonful of spaghetti with meatballs into your mouth.

You ate... a lot. He was surprised to see that graceful young lady eating an entire plate so quickly, but what surprised him even more was... how charming you still looked, even with your cheeks a little stained with sauce.

“You’ve just so cute...” Fellow complimented as you ate.

"Hmm?" you lifted your head, your cheeks puffed up with food.

He chuckled, gently poking your cheek. He was quite amused by your innocent behavior. It was an endearing quality that drove him crazy. He set down his silverware and looked over at you. A smile on his face.

“You’re even more beautiful when you eat, y’know. Like a chipmunk.”

You can't help but blush, laughing awkwardly as you swallows your food. “I-Is that so?... That's so kind of you!”

“It’s honest too.” He said, almost with a wink.

You can't help but laugh at the slightly joke.

He smiled as you laughed before going back to eating his food. Every so often, his eyes would flick up to look at you. He let out a mental sigh before deciding to get cheeky. He reached over with his foot, brushing against your ankle before slowly traveling up your leg. He was testing his luck, seeing how you’d react. Would you kick him? Move away? Let it continue?

You didn't seem to take it as flirting, so you just smiled and looked at him, thinking he wanted to say something.

He wasn’t expecting you to not notice. How dense could a person be? He almost wondered if you were actually doing this on purpose. Or maybe you just don't understand indirect flirting?

He decided to test the waters a little more. He moved a little closer to you, and when you were a little more distracted, he took the cutlery out of your hands with a smooth, light pushing motion.

"Huh?" You looked at him, with some confusion.

He simply placed a finger over his lip in a shushing gesture. He set the cutlery down before grabbing a napkin. Then, with a smile, he reached over to your cheek and wiped away a small sauce stain. "What about... we try something different? In some places, it's refined to eat without cutlery..."

"Eat without cutlery?"

He gave you a sly smile as he nodded. He took off his gloves, picking up a strand of spaghetti. "Try it. I promise it's not as barbaric as you think."

You shyly picks up the end of the spaghetti and puts it in your mouth. Fellow hums in approval at your action. He leans forward a bit more as he take the other side of the spaghetti.

Fellow’s expression was sly, his eyes slightly half-lidded as he let your faces get closer. He slowly started to close the distance, using the excuse of eating the spaghetti. His face was only inches away from yours, to the point he could feel your breath on his lips.

You didn't even move away, just standing there, your breathing becoming sporadic.

He inched closer, a smug smile on his face. He got you right where he wanted. When the distance was only centimeters apart, he licked some sauce off his lips, using it as an excuse to run his tongue right over your bottom lip.

You shivered, widening your eyes.

Fellow chuckled a little when you shivered, knowing exactly what effect he was having on you. He licked his lip again, now only a few millimeters from your own.

“You taste… even better with sauce...” He mumbled out, low.

"M-Mr. Honest..." You stuttered.

His smile grew at your breathless words.

“Hm? What is it?” He teased. His tone, the way looked at you… it was like a hawk that found its prey.

"W-Why... y-you look at me like that?..."

He chuckled to himself. He moved one hand up to your cheek and cupped it gently, his thumb running over your cheek.

“Can’t you tell, darling?” He purred out. "You look like a bunny right now, you know?... and... I guess you know what foxes do with bunnies."

...

"Where the f*ck is MC?" Ace questions Yuuken as the two are heading towards the cotton candy stand to find Floyd, Jade, and Lilia.

"Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her since the prize booth..." Yuu says thoughtfully, and soon becoming desperate. "OH MY STARS! We have to find her!" Yuu was about to run away, but then he turned back and grabbed Ace to go with him.

[captain039]

On the edge

Alpha Jayce x omega reader

Warnings: AOB, light swearing, feral alpha, intimacy, angst, Spoilers? Fated mates

Jayce returns changed from whatever he was in. Changed and feral with animalistic needs over glowing him

When a medical officer came to your door you were truely not prepared for what you saw. They had timidly ask you to follow them without any other explanation and you were confused and worried afraid one of your family members had been injured but seeing him, in a white room with a simple mattress on the floor and nothing else broke your heart. When Jayce disappeared you didn’t know what to do, his mother heart broken, Viktor gone, Mel gone half the council dead, Caitlyn turning into head enforcer, and you stuck sitting in a lab with neither Jayce or Viktor by your side. You were by Jayce’s side the whole time Viktor was in that strange case of whatever it was, the hextech fused into this giant healing bath almost. You didn’t know what to do watching the alpha loose part of his small close pack, his best friend and then he disappeared went into the hextech core room and never came back with either of his companions till now.

You stared at the alpha, his jaw so tense you were afraid he’d break teeth. His teeth were bared and he was panting heavily hands fisted by his side. You see his bracelet stone now fused into his skin, you see the wolf untamed hair on his head the beard he’d grown, what happened to him?

“We’ve been unable to reach him” the medical officer says beside you and you barely register their words eyes wide mouth slightly part as you stare at Jayce. The once clean golden boy, turned into this.

“We’ve tried everything. We did a mate test on him” you freeze at those words. You half figured it was Mel, but she’s gone too. A mate test was a pricey test you could get if you wish to find your fated, though most people left it down to chance but now it was harder and harder to find one so people gave up while scientists made a new way to find them.

“Mel?” You ask and they shake their making you frown.

“Who?” You ask frowning.

“You my lady” the medical officer says and you frown how the hell were you his mate? You’ve known him your whole life and nothing?

“That’s not possible” you whisper and the officer gives a small sad smile.

“I guess you want me to- go in there?” You ask gesturing to his white room.

“It would be dangerous. he cannot see us through the screen so we will turn it on so he can” the officer waves a hand to the security camera and the alphas body flinches staring at the now two way window. His eyes are the same but different somehow wild, untamed with hunger maybe. You don’t know what to do as he looks to the officer and growls like some wild beast and charges at the glass fists pounding against it making you flinch and step back. He doesn’t notice you too busy with this wild look at the officer.

“Few officers will be around him due to this behaviour I have chosen to stay but he doesn’t like that” the officer comments and you nod.

“Right” you mutter.

Nothing changed for a week, he never looks at you only whoever is beside you having some bad memory and rage towards them. You’re starting to think he doesn’t know who you are and your heart breaks. You’ve slowly come of your suppressors as the officers request, it took a few weeks to adjust but now you feel semi normal as you head back to the facility. You hate the looks you get seeing as natural born omegas are few to none around here in the upper city. You look at Jayce in his room he’s sitting on his bed staring at the ceiling a muscle twitching every now and then his knuckles are bruised and bloodied as always and he looks worse, hollow eyes with big dark eye bags. You hesitate at the door looking to the camera as the door buzzes and unlocks. You head inside seeing Jayce up instantly and snarling. The door seals behind you and you stand very still unsure how to approach or say him in this state. He eyes you and you eye him for what feels like forever before he begins to walk over your whole body tense as his eyes stay on yours intensely before he’s a foot away. You frown at his changed scent missing his old one.

“Jay-“ before you can even finish you’re pressed against the door the wind knocked out of you, your arms pinned above your head and hot breath on your neck. You’re frozen in fear never had him be this rough or physical before he always gave the best hugs but he wasn’t an overly touchy person. He’s panting harshly and he’s overly warm almost feverish as his hands grip your wrists tightly and his head rests by your neck. He’s too close but not close enough suddenly your omega senses already haywire from coming off suppressants. He lifts his head up eyes hard and narrowed as he stares at you before something flicks on them. Recognition? Realisation? You don’t know but his eyes soften his hands loosen and his shoulders drop as tears well in his eyes and he mutters your name. Relief floods you like tidal wave and you almost want to cry too as Jayce lets your wrists go wraps his arms around your waist and presses himself impossibly close. His face is buried in your neck and you wrap your arms around his neck crying silently. He breathes heavily as he cry’s his strong arms tight around your waist like he’s afraid to let go.

“You’re ok” you whisper taking a shaky breath, hand brushing against his neck and through his long hair. He shakes his head and you frown trying to pull back but he doesn’t let go holding you tighter instead.

“Jayce- I can’t breathe” you say and he relaxes his arms but doesn’t let go you take in a breath just running your fingers over the base of his skull and down his neck and back up. He twitches sometimes and it makes you worry but after a while he lets go wiped his eyes and looks at you. You watch though as something glazes in his eyes like a shade and he’s tense and on edge again jaw clenched and he glares and snarls storming away from you. You stare in confusion as the alpha sits down and stares at the ceiling again, the door buzzes and unlocks and you slip out still confused.

“What was that?” You ask the medical officer.

“Something happened to him, made him feral” she says.

“Feral?” You say shocked there’s hardly been any feral alphas in the upper city.

“This is the first time he’s been out of it” she comments tapping on her holotablet.

“How do we get him back?” You ask frowning.

“It’s a hard process, we can try the subtle way or the medical way” she comments.

“Subtle way?” You ask.

“We coax him out by doing daily things, normal things, trying to reteach him I guess you could say, you’d be our main candidate for him to see” she explains.

“And the medical way?” You whisper.

“We operate on him, send electrical currents to rewrite his brain” she says like it’s no big deal and you flinch but nod.

“Subtle way, has his mother been by?” You ask.

“Yes” she says simply and you figure you won’t get much more than that from her as you nod, thank her and leave the facility. You walk to Ms Talis home knock on the door you haven’t spoken to her in a while.

“Oh” she says as she opens the door seeing you saying your name before urging you inside. She makes you tea and you both sit down at the table.

“I saw Jayce today” you say quietly unsure of how to step. A deep sadness etched her features and she nods.

“How is he?” She asks.

“He recognised me” you whisper and she jolts and looks to you.

“I went into the room today, it was brief for five minutes he didn’t say anything though before he went back-“ you hate saying the word feral, such a barbaric term. You watch as Jayces mums eyes fill with tears and you give her hand a comforting squeeze.

“We’ll get your boy back Ms Talis” you whisper to her in promise.

[bitchesgetriches]

and bitches how do I get sterilized (afab) i thought i might want kids in my 30s but i cant really risk it can i i just dont know what to do

Hi sweetness. I suspect a lot of people are in your boat right now. Personally, I got my first IUD implanted in January of 2017. NOTE THE TIMING. I also had a friend get her tubes tied around that time.

The most important thing to remember is that getting sterilized as an AFAB person is over 99% effective and pretty damn permanent. So if you think you just can't risk getting pregnant SOON, but you might want to SOME DAY... then don't get sterilized. Explore another option. Again, I have an IUD and thoroughly recommend it.

It's a fairly simple out-patient procedure, but as with any surgery, it comes with health risks. Sterilization for AMAB people is slightly less risky. Make sure to take all that into account.

So if you truly want to get sterilized, here's what I (a non-doctor) recommend:

The very first step is to make sure you have a primary care physician and health insurance. Your PCP is the one who will refer you for the surgery. Make an appointment and tell them this:

"I would like to be sterilized via a tubal ligation. I've carefully considered this for a long time, and after doing significant research and discussing it with my loved ones, I've determined it's the best decision for my future."

A lot of people get pushback from their doctors when they request sterilization. That's why you want to make it abundantly clear that this is not a sudden whim, but something you've put serious thought into. And married folks will sometimes be asked to clear it with their spouse first (that happened when my husband requested a vasectomy).

They might try to talk you out of it. They may flat out refuse to refer you. If this happens, just calmly say: "Thank you for your time. Since you won't help me with my healthcare needs, I will be seeking a new primary care physician at this time." Then get yourself a new doctor.

Under the ACA (the Affordable Care Act, aka Obamacare) the procedure will be completely free with your insurance. That's why it's important to make sure you have health insurance before you request the procedure. The Trump administration is sure to try repealing the ACA again (in his first term, John McCain was literally the deciding vote on overturning the ACA, and he's fucking dead now and congress is full of MAGA sycophants). So you need to work quickly in case your sterilization will no longer be covered.

I strongly recommend you seek more advice from healthcare professionals. @plannedparenthood is also a great resource for everything to do with reproductive healthcare. But this should help you get the ball rolling.

Good luck, my dear. Here's more of our advice:

How to Prepare for a Post-Roe World (Bonus Episode) 

How To Get an Abortion 

How (and Why) to Take Back Reproductive Rights: On Pulling Weeds and Fighting Back 

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[cheynovak]

Furry Hero

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary: A beautiful request from @deanwinchestersgirl8734

That was passed on by @jackles010378 ( Thank you for thinking of me ❤️ )

"Hey I was wondering if you ever thought of writing a dean or Jensen or Sam or Jared story about them meeting someone they like who has a service dog I follow someone online who has a seizure dog and I've never seen anyone write about that"

I hope you like it, it was new for me to write a story like this. So I might made a mistake or two about service dogs but I wanted to shine a light on these everyday heroes as well.

Warnings: None

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The musty smell of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights created an almost reverent silence in the small-town library. Sam Winchester pushed open the heavy door with a grin, his brother Daan trailing close behind, looking less than enthusiastic.

"Why do you always pick libraries?" Dean grumbled as they walked in. "What’s wrong with a good ol’ diner? Coffee, pie, real conversations?"

"Because libraries have records," Sam shot back, his long stride quickly overtaking Dean. "And the last thing this case needs is for you to flirt your way into trouble again."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just saying, a little charm goes a long—" He stopped mid-sentence, his attention snapping to a figure seated at a nearby table.

A woman sat with a dog at her feet, flipping through a thick tome with practiced ease. Dean barely registered the woman's features because the dog—a fluffy, caramel-colored Golden Retriever—caught his attention first. Without thinking, Dean dropped into a crouch, extending his hand.

"Who's a good boy?" Dean cooed, the smile on his face rivaling the brightness of the overhead lights.

The dog's ears perked, its intelligent eyes locking onto Dean's hand before the woman—Y/N—cleared her throat. "Um, excuse me." Her tone was polite but firm, tinged with amusement. "He's a service dog. Please don’t pet him while he’s working."

Sam stifled a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dean, seriously?"

Dean froze, his hand midway to the dog's head, looking sheepish. "Right. Sorry. Service dog. Got it." He straightened up, brushing off invisible dirt from his jeans. "Guess I got a little excited. It's just… he's so fluffy."

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes flicking between the brothers. "It happens more than you'd think. Most people can’t resist Buddy here."

Sam stepped in, his expression a mix of apology and curiosity. "Sorry about my brother. He's got no impulse control. I'm Sam, and this is Dean."

"Y/N," she replied with a small smile. "So, what brings you guys to this dusty corner of the world?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a quick glance, the unspoken language of years of hunting passing between them. Dean took the lead, his charm dialed back to a respectable level. "We’re looking into some… stuff going on in town. About the missing people, you wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you?"

Y/N frowned, her hand pausing on the page she’d been reading. "I haven’t seen anything myself, but…" She glanced down at Buddy, her expression thoughtful. "A couple of nights ago, Buddy started acting weird while we were walking past that old blue house on Sycamore Street. You know, the one where the girl went missing last week?"

Sam nodded, pulling a small notebook from his jacket. "What do you mean by weird? "

"Growling," Y/N confirmed. "And he wouldn’t go near the property. Buddy’s trained to stay calm, so it really freaked me out. I crossed the street, and even then, he kept his eyes locked on that house until we were out of sight."

Dean leaned against the table, his interest piqued. "Did you notice anything else? Lights on? Strange smells? Anything at all?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, but the air felt… off. Like, ice cold." She hesitated. Dean looked at Sam who just nodded but turned back to Y/N.

"If you’re okay with would you mind letting us know if Buddy picks up on anything else? Dogs are a lot more sensitive to things than people are."

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, who let out a soft huff as if in agreement. "Sure. I was planning to walk by there later today anyway. I can let you know if anything seems off."

"Perfect," Dean said, his grin returning. "In the meantime, you got any more tips for not offending a service dog?"

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Dean's grin widen. "Just don’t call him fluffy again."

Sam started to walk back, Dean gave her his 'FBI' card. "Maybe you eh, could learn me a thing or two in a private talk?" Y/N smiled why don't you walk with us tonight?"

Later That day

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, painting the quiet park in shades of amber and gold. Y/N stood near the entrance, Buddy’s leash wrapped loosely around her hand as she scanned the area. Her heart fluttered slightly when she spotted Dean strolling toward her, his leather jacket slung casually over his shoulder and his trademark grin firmly in place.

"Hey," Dean greeted, his voice warm as he stopped a few feet away. His gaze dropped to Buddy, who stood alert at Y/N’s side. "Still working, huh? Guess I’ll keep my hands to myself this time."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Probably for the best. But he’s off-duty once we start walking in the park. That’s his rule, not mine."

Dean crouched, giving Buddy a respectful nod. "You hear that, pal? I’m in your territory now."

Buddy wagged his tail slightly, his usual stern demeanor relaxing just a bit, and Y/N chuckled again. "I think he’s starting to like you. That’s impressive—he doesn’t warm up to most people."

Dean straightened, his grin turning just a touch smug. "Well, I do have a way with animals... And women."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. "So, what’s the plan? You asked me out to make up for the dog thing, and here we are. A romantic walk in the park?"

Dean tilted his head, pretending to think. "That’s part of it. The other part’s getting to know you better." Touched by the sincerity in his voice, Y/N nodded, feeling her nerves ease.

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm as they walked along the park’s winding paths, Buddy trotting happily ahead. They talked about everything and nothing: Y/N’s job, Buddy’s quirks, Dean’s favorite pie recipes, and even a few funny stories.

Dean never opened up so easily, but Y/N felt safe. He even felt guilty not telling her his real job.

Eventually, they reached a secluded clearing by a small lake. Buddy, now fully off-duty, sniffed around the grass nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Y/N as always.

Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets, his expression softening as he looked at her. "You know, I gotta admit... I wasn’t just making up for petting your dog when I asked you out."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Oh? What was it, then?"

Dean hesitated for half a second, his usual bravado faltering. "I don’t know. There’s something about you. You’re tough, smart, funny..."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Even if you don’t always follow the no-petting rule."

Without knowing Y/N and Dean walked up to the old blue house on the corner. The house loomed in the dark, its broken shutters creaking in the cold wind.

"Buddy’s already on edge," Y/N whispered, gripping the dog’s harness. The Retriever growled low in his throat, his fur standing on end.

"Looks like we’re in the right place," he murmured, his hand instinctively hovering over the pistol tucked in the back of his jeans. He gently pulled Y/N behind him, his expression serious. "Let me call Sam. Might as well take a look."

Y/N tilted her head, her brows furrowing. "Take a look? At this time? What are you looking for exactly?"

Dean didn’t answer right away, pulling out his phone and texting Sam with quick precision. A low growl from Buddy at her side sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine, his ears flat against his head as he stared intently at the house.

Minutes later, headlights illuminated the driveway as the Impala’s familiar sleek silhouette rolled up. Sam hopped out, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the twilight.

"Dean, you sure about this?" Sam asked, walking around to the trunk of the Impala.

Dean opened it with a practiced motion, and Y/N’s jaw dropped. Inside was an arsenal of weapons: guns, knives, vials of strange liquids, and boxes of ammo. Dean grabbed his shotgun, quickly loading it with salt rounds. "Oh yeah, Sammy. This place is humming."

"What the hell is this?" Y/N blurted, gesturing to the weapons.

Dean glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Insurance."

"Insurance?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Sam stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "Y/N, this is what we do. What you saw or better what Buddy felt was a ghost, somehow every year children disappear, this is how we deal with things like that. But it’s dangerous. You need to stay back."

Dean nodded in agreement, his green eyes serious as he looked at her. "Let us handle this. Buddy too. Keep him close."

The brothers headed toward the house, their weapons drawn. But as they approached the door, Buddy let out a sharp bark and yanked his leash free from Y/N’s hand.

"Buddy!" Y/N shouted, sprinting after him as the dog bounded up the steps and slipped through the open door.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed, rushing after her. "Y/N, no!"

She didn’t hesitate, running after Buddy into the house. The second she crossed the threshold, the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her with an echoing bang.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to open the locked door.

Dean spun around, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "Y/N, you were supposed to stay outside!"

Y/N ignored him, her eyes scanning the dark, decaying interior. "I wasn’t about to leave Buddy in here! Where is he?"

A deep growl echoed through the house, sending a chill down everyone’s spines. The air grew colder, and the faint smell of rotting wood and sulfur filled Y/N’s nostrils. Buddy barked from somewhere deeper in the house, his sharp warning cutting through the oppressive silence.

"Stay close," Dean ordered, positioning himself between Y/N and the direction of the sound. "Sam, get her ass out of here!"

"I’m trying!" Sam called back, his voice muffled. "The door’s not budging."

Dean fired the first shot, the salt round scattering the shadow momentarily. "Well, this isn’t gonna be easy," he muttered. "You think?" Sam retorted.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. He handed Y/N a flashlight from his jacket pocket. "Hold this. If you see anything—anything weird—don’t scream. Just tell me where it is."

Y/N nodded, clutching the flashlight with trembling hands as they moved further into the house. Dean led the way, his shotgun raised, while Buddy’s distant barks drew them closer to the heart of the building.

"Dean," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "What is that smell?"

Dean’s jaw clenched. "Something bad. Stay close."

As they rounded a corner, they found Buddy standing in front of a doorway, his teeth bared and his growls low and menacing. Dean raised his shotgun as a shadowy figure flickered into view inside the room.

Dean kicked the door open seeing the bodies piled up. Y/N gasped. "Oh my!"

"Bingo Dean whispered under his breath, he started to salt and burn the corpses."Sam! Get her out of here," Dean said sharply, his voice low. "Now."

Y/N grabbed Buddy’s collar, her fear mounting. "What about you?"

"I’ll handle it," Dean said, his gaze locked on the figure as he loaded another shell. "Just go!"

Sam did everything to get Y/N out of the house while Dean started to burn the old remains he found in

Hours later: very very early morning

The warm glow of the diner’s neon sign spilled across the parking lot as Y/N slid into the booth opposite Dean and Sam. Buddy lay obediently at her feet, his golden coat reflecting the light from the hanging lamp above them.

The Winchester brothers had earned more than a few curious looks from the other patrons with their slightly singed jackets and dark circles under their eyes, but they didn't seem to notice—or care.

"Best fries in town," Dean said, sliding a menu across the table to Y/N. "Although, if you’re like me, you’re here for the pie."

Y/N chuckled, scanning the menu. "You were right; I am starving after all that. So… is this what you guys do? Travel around, fight ghosts, and eat questionable diner food?"

"Pretty much," Sam replied with a small smile, leaning back in the booth. "Although Dean’s dietary choices aren’t exactly… standard."

Dean mock-gasped. "Excuse me, my food choices are a finely tuned science. Protein and sugar keep me going during hunts." He paused, his grin softening. "But yeah, hunting—it’s what we do. Saved your life tonight, didn’t it?"

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, her hand instinctively reaching to scratch behind his ears. "It did. And Buddy here… He’s smarter than I gave him credit for." She looked up at them, her expression warm. "Honestly, I can’t thank you guys enough. If it weren’t for you, I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened."

Dean waved a hand, brushing off the gratitude. "Hey, it’s all in a day’s work. Besides, Buddy deserves most of the credit. Guy’s got instincts."

"He really does," Y/N agreed, her voice tinged with awe. "I thought he was just being stubborn that night, refusing to cross the street, but now I’m realizing… he probably saved me." Her smile faltered slightly as she looked between the two brothers. "I can’t imagine how you do this all the time. Doesn’t it get… exhausting? Scary?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Sam was the one who answered. "It’s not easy. But someone has to do it. Most people wouldn’t even believe half the things we’ve seen. So, yeah, it’s scary sometimes, but… it’s worth it."

Dean leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "And hey, it’s not all bad. We’ve got stories for days. Like that time a possessed mannequin tried to stab me. Or when Sam got body-snatched by a teenage girl." He grinned mischievously as Sam groaned in protest.

Y/N laughed, the sound light and genuine, cutting through the heaviness of the earlier hunt. "You guys really are something else."

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted from ghost stories to lighter topics. Y/N told them about Buddy’s training and how she’d adopted him after he flunked out of guide dog school for being "too easily distracted." Dean snorted at that, muttering, "Sounds like we’ve got something in common, pal," earning a bark of approval from Buddy.

When the check finally arrived, Y/N reached for it, but Dean slid it away with a wink. "Hunter’s treat."

"Thanks," Y/N said softly, her eyes lingering on the brothers. "This has been… really nice. Weird, but nice."

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Y/N dug a small notepad from her bag, scribbling her number and handing it to Dean. "If you guys are ever back in town, give me a call. It was really nice meeting you both."

"Likewise," Sam said, his smile sincere.

Dean, however, seemed unusually quiet. He watched as Y/N clipped Buddy’s leash back on and headed toward her car. His gaze lingered as she opened the door, Buddy hopping inside.

Sam smirked, his arms crossed. "So… I’m starting to guess it wasn’t the dog that had your attention this time."

Dean snapped out of his daze, turning to his brother with an indignant look. "Huh? What’re you talking about?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on. You were practically drooling."

Dean scoffed, but the faintest hint of a blush crept up his neck. "I was not. I was just… impressed, that’s all. She’s smart. And brave. And… whatever, shut up."

"Uh-huh," Sam said, his grin widening. "Impressed. Sure."

Dean jumped up, rushing out the door "Y/N! Wait up!". She stopped reversing her car. "What's wrong?" Dean leaned on her now open window. Dean seemingly nervous. "I figured maybe we could start over. No ghosts. No hunts. Just… us."

"I’d like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean’s smile widened, but it faded slightly as he glanced down at her lips, his expression turning serious. "Can I kiss you? Or is that off-limits too?"

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re in the clear this time."

Dean didn’t need any more encouragement. He leaned in, his hand brushing lightly against her cheek as their lips met. The kiss was warm and gentle, filled with a tenderness Y/N hadn’t expected but welcomed all the same.

"Call me?" he asked like a shy little schoolboy. Y/N Smirked only if you promise our date walks won't end in horror movies anymore?"

“Deal!” and with that he leaned back for another breathtaking kiss. Much to Buddy's disapproval

WOOF

--

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