#except it feels more like SCARED and i am not really sure why

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Hey! You probably have already been asked this question- and I know you’ll probably never see this- but I’ve been thinking about this and curious about this lately, uh-

What are all the things killer went through during his time under the control of his frisk? Both cannon and head-cannon? I have a few head-cannons myself but am really curious what others think and what the cannon is!

It’s okay if not answered, am just a curious soul wondering about stuff-

Well, first, it wasn’t his Frisk he was under the control of—Frisk is actually hardly mentioned in Something New outside of the first few panels of the first page of the comics, and Killer saying he misses stabbing Frisk’s face when asked if he missed Frisk.

It was Chara, and the Player—basically one and the same in Something New, even if Chara the dead child potentially wants something more. All the Player ever really wants from Killer’s existence is something new, after all. Chara’s the one who wanted a partner in crime.

As for what happened between them, the fun part is—we don’t actually canonically know. We can make guesses based on the beginning, when Killer turned on them, and some things based on after they ended—how Killer still sees them and hears them and listens to them, how he feels watched by them constantly, as if they’re living inside him.

This tells me just how codependent their relationship was—and how scared and powerless Killer feels beneath them, even as he feels he needs them and that he still has to listen to them, even if he doesn’t want to—even as he struggles to realize that he doesn’t want to, because he wants what They want.

Even if he has a new “master” now in the form of Nightmare. It tells me that Chara’s wants and priorities and needs have always taken priority over anything and anyone else—especially Killer himself.

It’s like..how a baby doesn’t realize they are separate from their mother for the first few months of their life. Except Killer never truly realized that he is separate from them. Or that they are separate from him. He has internalized them, and in many ways, has become them. Something he struggles to make sense of.

Killer doesn’t know who he is or what he is, what he wants—if he wants anything at all. He doesn’t know what is or isn’t real—why he feels and behaves about certain things. Why everything both does and doesn’t feel familiar, and yet still he is always just separate.

Chara provided directions. They represent identity and direction and stability, certainty and structure. They scare him and hurt him and confuse him, and he hates them and fears them in equal measure, but no one has understood him like them. Not even himself.

I’m sure he also didn’t use to understand why he was ever scared of or disobedient of Chara before—if something ever triggered him into Stage 1, such as his own hesitance to kill Papyrus. Stage 2 may not have held the same emotional ties to Chara that Stage 1 does or hold the same anger and hate that Stage 3 does or the fear and reverence that Stage 4 does; but it wasn’t like he knew anything else besides them with certainty.

He knew he needed them. He didn’t know fully why, he just did. He could try to explain why but it’d be through the lens of what Chara taught him: control or be controlled, the most Determined decide fate, etc.

He holds on these contradictory views and experiences with Chara, likely dissociated and compartmented into his four Stages, but all just as true as eachother.

They made him. He exists because of the Player, sure, but Chara basically raised him. The Player speaks through them, they act on our behalf. There may even be no difference between Chara and God in his mind in Stage 4.

And try as he might, he can’t pry their pieces out of him.

All of it suggests heavy levels of manipulation, conditioning, gaslighting, dependency, and abuse to me. The specifics aren’t said or shown or even confirmed, but the fact that out of all his shadowy hallucinations of everyone he’s killed—living in his head—Chara’s the only one who’s more than a shadow and has sway over his choices seems to say something about their relationship.

Anyway, a lot of things could’ve likely happened when he was with Chara. Who knows how long they were together—Killer likely doesn’t know. How many timelines they went through together.

I do like to think that there was an entire timeline where Killer and Chara overthrew Asgore and ruled the Underground themselves at some point, because Princess Killer and Killer being conditioned through royal etiquette is an idea I love. I also think he was conditioned through childhood nursery rhymes, games, gestures, and sayings that are loaded with specific meanings that only Chara and Killer themselves know. Their own little language.

I think Chara gave Killer Asriel’s golden locket, to basically make Killer into the better “Asriel.” I do believe he was often threatened and kept in line through the use of the Reset—something Killer, back when he was Sans, hated and dreaded more anything.

(And by that I mean, he was either threatened with a Reset if he didn’t do something, or forced to repeat something over and over through the use of the Reset until he either did it perfectly or without thinking or hesitation. Until any attempts to resist results in an instinctive overriding of his own will via the triggering of Stage 4.)

That original sentiment was likely twisted over time, but still present in some shape or form—such as the need for something new, and to not constantly do the same thing over and over again, even as paradoxically, Killer has a tendency to do the same things over and over again thanks to the role of the Resets in his conditioning.

I’ve made a post before about like, Chara and Killer making the killing into something like hunting games, can’t find it. But I like to think there was a punishment-reward system that Killer internalized as well, especially in Stage 4.

I’ve mentioned before how i hc that Killer and Chara had a pinky swear system that could never be broken under threat of grievous harm to whichever party breaks the promise—and as a result any promises made via pinky swears with Killer from absolutely anyone is basically the same as signing away your right to live if you ever break it.

I’ve mentioned how I think the one death Killer has never experienced before is buttercup poisoning. But basically, anything you think could happen has possibly happened, except ya know..weird stuff.

Reality is a game, and the Underground is their sandbox.

[lurkinghell]

i am having. such a mentally stable day

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now | 2 |

in which readers true feelings are revealed.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!

Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.

You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.

Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.

It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.

Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.

What the fuck.

“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.

That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.

“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“

Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.

“You uber’d? You?”

He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”

“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”

“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“

You were laughing again.

He whined, turning on his heel.

“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!” He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.

You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.

“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“

“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”

“What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.

“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.

If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.

“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.

Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.

The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.

Spencer broke first.

“So we should probably talk…about last night.”

You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.

“Right, yeah…”

A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.

For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.

“I—uh…was very drunk.”

Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.

“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.

“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.

He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.

He couldn’t do it.

He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.

“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“

“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.

Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.

You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?

He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.

“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.

“Please don’t—I love you!”

“What?”

He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?

You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.

“Do you mean it?”

You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.

“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.

“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“

“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“

“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”

“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”

You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”

His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”

Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.

“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”

“I’d like that.”

You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.

“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.

“I love you.”

And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.

He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.

“You’re not funny.”

He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.

“I don’t know, I—“

You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.

“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“

He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.

“Stop talking.”

[fatuismooches]

No other reason for this other than me being self-indulgent and having some fun. Dottore and Fragile Reader of course.

Prime Dottore - About You:

"If you were expecting me to... gush about them and whatnot, then your expectations are nonsensical. I have nothing to share with you about them. I merely have three things to say. Do not get close to them, do not make them upset, and do not get in my way, regardless of what I have to do to make them better."

Omega - About You:

"...[Name]? Their time is far too valuable to be spent around the likes of you. Speaking of, have you seen them? ...You say they're with another segment now? A pity. It's a shame they're always swept away by the others. I could please them far more than anyone else in any matter. I suppose I will need to think of a way to retrieve them yet again."

Alpha (Akademiya) - About You:

"Do you know how many pens and pencils I've broken due to [Name]? Even centuries later they still find the need to debate me on certain topics, academic or not, challenge my research and thinking, and criticize my handwriting. Truly an annoyance. If only they were able to be with me a bit longer... What? They are annoying, but I still acknowledge that they have the traits of a true scholar. And their voice is still much more agreeable than the others I have to work with..."

Beta (Webttore) - About You:

"Hehe, what a loyal assistant they are. They can pick apart different parts and mechanics with ease. Much more competent than that man I disposed of a while ago, on that expedition... along with all the others. Unfortunately, I only have a limited amount of time with them. Really, is it so difficult to find someone with even a third of their ability? Actually, that is a foolish question. No one could ever hope to compare to them."

Delta - About You:

"They have an exceptional talent for pestering me at any given moment, somehow seeking me out wherever I am easily. If only they could put their mind into something more productive. Why do I not simply ignore them? Because they do not stop until they've gotten their desired results, just like me. I'd rather not prolong their prodding.

Zeta - About You:

"... As long as they are well, I need not know anything else. Their health is of utmost priority."

Zandy - About You:

"[Name]? Oh, they're the best, most nicest and fun grown-up ever! I'm never alone now that they're around! They're always willing to play with me and they always yell at the other segments when they're being mean. They're never scared at all... [Name] could probably beat Prime in a fight if they wanted. Hmm? But they can't even throw a punch? That doesn't matter! They're much stronger than you think - I've witnessed it many times."

Pierro - About You:

"When I first recruited Dottore from the desert and gave him his Harbinger position, one of the first things he did was set up a room to monitor [Name]'s condition. He did so for hundreds of years, creating numerous segments to help, and it ended up paying off. It is not my place to pry into his life, as long as he fulfills his duties as the Tsaritsa requests, but now that they're by his side again, he seems... never mind."

Capitano - About You:

"I once encountered them when they managed to sneak out of the lab. They were... intriguing and talkative. They weren't scared in the slightest and were more interested in how I managed to befriend all the creatures near me. They wanted... tips on how to convince the Doctor to let them have a pet. I don't think I was very helpful."

Columbina - About You:

"The Doctor is engrossed with his research, but the only thing he truly has a soft spot for is his dearest [Name]. He hides his feelings exceptionally well, but anyone who witnesses him around them can tell the difference. Don't tell him I said this though, you know how he'll act.~ But do tell [Name] this, they're sure to get flustered. ♪"

Arlecchino - About You:

"They have made attempts to get closer to me, but I'm afraid I have no interest in building a relationship with them. Still, I've always thought that their character would be similar to that of the Doctor, but from what I've seen of them, that does not seem to be the case. So, I do wonder if those two opposites truly get along."

Pulcinella - About You:

"I have seen many things in this long life of mine, so unlike many others, their relationship with Dottore does not surprise me too much. Still, they have much to learn if they feel the need to come and ask me for relationship advice. If you ask me, I believe that they don't truly know how much the Doctor values them, even if it is as clear as day."

Wanderer - About You:

"The Doctor's little pet? Every time I saw them, they were always scurrying behind one of the segments, as if they were attached by the hip. I don't know what transpired between the two of them for this relationship to happen, but out of all the people who associate with Dottore, they're bound to meet the nastiest end."

Sandrone - About You:

"The Doctor? [Name]? I have no care for either of them. I am much too busy with my own work to think about his worthless love life. However, I do suppose the idea is entertaining - Dottore being capable of love is as laughable as thinking an Automaton can learn to cherish another, and this [Name] person is equally as idiotic for believing so."

La Signora - About You:

"[Name], you say? I can't claim to know much about them. Everything I've heard is through the mouths of others, mostly from agents who talk more than what's good for them, but especially the Balladeer. What are they really like - a harmless and fragile sweetheart? A tool for the Doctor? His equally as heartless accomplice? Or all of the above? All I can say, however, is that it takes one to know one, right?"

Pantalone - About You:

"Ah, the little one. I am more than familiar with them, although Dottore would loathe to hear that. Did you know the Doctor is more prone to jealousy than you think? It is most amusing to see his ever-confident smirk fall once you get a bit too close to [Name]. I vividly remember the time when I said I would accompany [Name] to a ball instead, as he was too busy with his research. He never changed his mind as quickly as he did once I promised to dance with them."

Childe - About You:

“I’ve always thought Dottore was eccentric, and after meeting [Name], I can say they are equally as weird as him, solely for choosing him as their husband. Their personality is nothing like his either - they are bubbly, affectionate, and most of all… extremely weak. Traits that Dottore has no interest in. And yet the segments seem to fawn over them… I just don’t understand them. I just hope they know what they’re getting into.”

Furina - About You:

"Whenever I see them, [Name] always make sure to arrange a tea party with their own homemade Sumerian sweets! It is truly a delight. I admit, I am a bit jealous of their skill. It's as if they have the experience of a hundred years! But of course, that's impossible. Regardless, they are very kind, and they also seem to have a particular liking for romantic films... an odd thing for someone affiliated with the Fatui to like."

Nahida - About You:

"A raven and a sparrow - two beings that are surely bound to be apart from each other, but when it comes to the Doctor and [Name], it seems that even the impossible becomes possible. Though my feelings toward them will not change because of what they've done, I can't help but be interested. What lengths will the Outcast go to cure the one he holds dear, and would [Name] still be able to love him if he becomes more of a monster?"

[itsmarsss]

Vulgar Display of Power [Miguel Diaz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

You can never fucking beat him in a fight and it's getting frustrating.

Request: omg more miguel please!!! smutty if u can xx already dating if you want? Fic title comes from my (second) favorite Pantera album. Word count: 4,350 Warnings: SMUT. established relationship, theres plot but it only serves to justify the sex lol, i use present tense in this, degrading, first time sub!miguel kind of, handjob, fingering, oral sex, penetration (p in v), semi-public sex (i guess? no one's around but the location isn't exactly private), a lot of use of pet names (baby, babe, love, mi amor), so much swearing. obviously no one is a minor here I don't mention much context but can be read as hs senior year or later, doesn't really matter. if you're a minor kindly keep away from my blog and this fic please

“Fuck!”  You yell out as Sensei Lawrence announces Miguel’s win. In turn of your frustration, Miguel sports a grin that playfully mocked you.

Now don’t get it twisted, you’re not a bad fighter. You’re not even a good one- you’re great. The best, except for…

“Diaz! Good one.” Sensei Lawrence praises.

“Nice, dude!” Hawk comes to fist bump him.

Tory comes to you. “Girl get it together! You’re better than that!”

“I’m fucking trying.”

Miguel hears the two of you talking and decides to insert himself into the conversation. “Come on, it’s not a big deal.”

“I say this with love but it is a big deal and I’m gonna find a way to beat you.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

[. . .]

“Hey,” you hear Miguel call from behind you, turning around for a split second to look at him before getting back to packing your stuff to leave the dojo. 

“Hey.”

“So, are we still on for tonight?”

“Yeah. I just wanna go home first and take a shower.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Hey are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something seems… weird.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe,” you tell him, bringing a hand to his face and lightly tapping his cheek.

“You sure?”

“Yes! I just said it is!” You realize you blew up at him for no reason, immediately feeling bad for it and apologizing, not managing to look at him. “Sorry.”

“See? That’s what I mean!”

“I really am sorry.”

“Okay, but something’s clearly wrong.”

You stay silent, and he walks up to you, cornering you so you’d face him.

“What’s going on?”

Honestly, you don’t want to tell him. Because it would sound stupid. Because it is stupid. You don’t even exactly know why it had gotten so under your skin this time. 

“It’s fine. I’m just a bit off today.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, but you don't have to lie either.”

“Fine. You wanna know what’s wrong? I’m frustrated because you keep beating me.”

“What?”

“Every single time we’re picked to fight I just can’t fucking beat you. And yes, I’m glad you don’t go easy on me, cause that would be like a million times worse, but I'm frustrated with myself. You’re the only one I've never fully beat in a match. The closest I’ve ever gotten to that was a tie.”

“Well most of the time it ends up in a tie.” 

“Yeah but none of the time did it end with me winning.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.”

“Of course you don’t. I just feel like if I still can’t beat you then have I really been getting better?”

“What? That’s nonsense, babe. You know that, right? Of course you’ve been getting better. We all have.”

“See I told you it would be stupid. I don't even know why I'm feeling this way.”

“That’s okay. We can just sort that out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll ask sensei for the keys.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna stay here and fight and we’re not gonna leave until you win.”

“That’s really not what I was trying to get from this-”

“What, are you scared?” He knew just how to tug on your strings. 

“Oh fuck no.”

“Then we’re doing this.”

“But what about the date?”

“We can go tomorrow. If you need my help today, I'll help you today.”

“Okay.”

[. . .]

“Alright, ready?”

You only nod your head yes, too focused to even speak.

“Okay. Round one.”

You get a couple punches in, but he’s faster than most of your hits. He wins..

You huff, annoyed. “Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Okay that’s it. Again.”

This time, determination runs through your veins, as tired as you were. Every single moment of feeling weak or inferior or as though you were seen by others as basically the female equivalent of Miguel, and not yourself, not someone capable of being better than him in any way, channeled into this round. 

And you won. This time, you fucking won. 

“Wait that’s three,” you realize.

“Yeah! You won!” Miguel celebrates.

“What?”

“You won, babe!”

“Oh my God. Holy fucking shit. I won?!”

He laughs, coming up to you. “You did.” He places a quick kiss on your lips, but you’re taken over by the adrenaline, pulling him back to you by the collar of his shirt when he went to pull away, tangling him into another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time around. “That was hot,” he comments, as you finally did let him part ways with you to breathe, your bodies still flushed together. 

You feel your cheeks burn at his comment. “I just kicked your ass,” you joke.

He doesn’t even seem fazed by the comment. “Yeah you did,” he grins.

“I did not expect that to unlock some sort of loser kink in you.”

“Hey! That’s not what this is!”

You lift an eyebrow, amused. 

“What, you’re telling me it’s a crime if my insanely hot girlfriend looks insanely hot while kicking my ass?”

“Should I kick your ass more often then?”

“You’re welcome to.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Shut up,” he retorts, finally having enough of the playful bantering, unable to wait a second longer to have your lips on his again. 

Miguel pulls you even closer to him- if that were even possible- by pulling on your waist, not wasting a second more before diving in again, pulling you into a kiss that is much more feral this time around. His actions scream that he wants you, and the high from having reached your goal and beat him in the last round mixed with the lust forming in you from seeing him so affected, so attracted to this, it feels good.

You suppose some people would maybe come into an issue if they found themselves in your place. Men aren’t exactly known for being great at dealing with women being better than them in… well, anything. But Miguel acted genuinely proud of you. Hell, he’d canceled your date night to help you with this because he realized it was important to you. And more than being supportive, he was turned on by your display of power. 

His kisses start trailing out of your lips, to your jaw, to the space below your ear. “You did so well, love. You should get something in turn, huh?”

Your mind was getting a bit foggy. Still, you join in playing his game. “I suppose I should. What are you gonna do?”

“Whatever you want me to,” he breathes out. Oh. That was definitely new. 

“Whatever I want?” He only nods, looking up at you, waiting to be told what to do. Holy shit, that was hot. “That sounds good.”

“Just tell me, please, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise,” he pleads. It was almost pathetic. You decide you’d never get enough of hearing him plead like that. You loved the times in which he was more dominant, but you could definitely get behind this too, no issues whatsoever.

You pretend to think. “I don’t think I will.”

“What? Why not?”

“I want you to guess.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I- Uh- Ih-” he takes a deep breath. He liked that. You smiled. “I can do that.”

“Good boy,” you try, hoping he didn’t find it weird. 

Apparently, he didn’t. “Fuck. Fuck,” he lets out in almost strangled sounds, wordlessly dropping himself to the floor. He looks up at you with doe eyes, as if pleading for permission. You smile at him, signaling everything was okay. You cage his jaw with both your hands, and he closes his eyes for a moment, letting you play with his hair.

“You look so pretty like this,” you coo, and he feels it down his spine, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Sit.”

“What?”

“Sit,” he repeats himself, but it isn’t demanding. Not this time. 

“I heard you.”

“Sit, please, baby.”

You grin. You didn’t know you’d like this this much. “Of course, baby.” You sit down on the bench, legs closed. He parts them confidently, eyes not leaving yours as he does so slowly, positioning his body between them. With his face mere inches from yours, he looks up at you again. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He guesses. His cheeks red, he clearly looks embarrassed. It turned him on and it turned you on too. 

You nod eagerly, signaling he’d guessed right. He smiles and closes the distance between you, pulling you down and attaching his lips to yours. It starts out slow, tender, experimental- testing the waters. He grows eager pretty fast, though, kissing you harder, his hands traveling to either of your thighs and planting themselves there firmly, squeezing in a way that makes you gasp slightly in surprise. 

He pulls away just to tease you about it. That’s the kind of little shit he is.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“Not this then?”

He squeezes your thigh again and you try to act unbothered.” He notices though, pleased with himself.

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He pulls you into a kiss again with no warning, more feral than before, his hand traveling upwards, inside the legs of the shorts you were wearing. 

“Take it off,” you pant out, a stern tone overtaking your words, and he complies without questioning. You smile, pleased with that. You lift your hips slightly for him and he throws the shorts somewhere on the floor behind you. 

He stares at your underwear for a few moments, as if lost in a trance. You laugh. “Hello? You here?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

“Used to what?” You move a hand to caress his face. 

“The fact that I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

“Aw, do you like that, baby? Does it turn you on?” You ask, your tone almost mocking him.

He only nods his head yes, looking embarrassed.

“That’s good.” You make a show to slowly take off your shirt, a sudden surge of confidence running through your veins at his words, discarding it along with the shorts behind you.  His eyes widen and he mumbles a few words, the volume of his words so low you couldn’t make it out for the life of you, before he just surges forward again, not aiming for your lips this time, but for your jaw. 

“What was that?” You manage to breathe out as he continues his trail of kisses along your jaw.

“What?”

“If you’re gonna talk you’re gonna let me hear it. Got it?”

“Oh-okay.” He continues to place quick, slight pecks along your jawline, but you know exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re not distracting me from that. I wanna know what you said, baby. Wanna hear you.”

“I said- I said uh-“ he gulps. “It’s dumb.”

“That’s okay.”

“I just said ‘fuck me’.”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh. It was dumb,” you mock him again, and you can see he didn’t expect that.

“What?”

“I though you wanted to fuck me,” you joke.

 He doesn’t take it as a joke. “I do. I do I just meant- it was just-“ oh. This was for real. 

“I know, love. I was just teasing you. Okay? You’re being so good to me.”

His eyes almost sparkle at the praise. 

“You know I think I changed my mind.”

“What?” 

“Maybe I should fuck you.”

“What do you mean?”

You look down on him and smile, a genuine sweet smile. “Get up.”

“But-“

“I thought you said you’d do whatever i wanted you to,” you fake-pout. 

He doesn’t say a word before standing back up. You do the same, keeping your body flushed to his. You slowly turn the two of you around, cornering him until the back of his knees hit the bench and pushing him to sit down on it. 

Standing in front of him, you tilt your head to the side as you take in the view. He looked disheveled as ever. You loved it. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.

“I- I can take it off.”

“Yeah I think you should.”

“What… what do you want me to take off?”

“Let’s go with the shirt first, baby. How about that?”

He nods furiously. “Yeah I can do that,” he takes his shirt off in a millisecond, throwing it with your clothes on the floor. 

“Oh, you look so pretty,” you coo, stepping closer to him and lifting his chin up to look at you. You make your way around the bench to be behind him, and you can see him gulp in anticipation. Fuck, you were loving this a little too much. You trace his biceps with your finger. “Your arms, I love your arms, you know that? So big and strong,” you exaggerate, and he quirks an eyebrow at the suspicious comment. This doesn’t sound like it was getting to a nice praising place. “And your body, I mean your abs. Your thighs, your thighs are so pretty, baby,” you crouch a bit, still behind him, wrapping yourself around his back so you could snake your arms to his thighs, still only tracing them with a single finger. “So how come you lost to me like a bitch?”

That seems to remind him very well of what was happening.

“It- it was one time.”

“One time you lost to me. But you’ve barely ever won, have you?”

He stays quiet. 

“Come on, baby, talk to me…” you pout, snaking your arms around his torso and kissing his neck.

“N-no.”

“Did you like that you lost to me baby?”

Quiet again.

“Did it turn you on?” You whisper in his ear and you can feel him take in big a breath. .

He couldn’t even look at you .

“Oh, pretty boy, I wanna hear your voice!”

He gulps again. “It- it turned me on,” he confesses. 

“I never knew you were into this sort of thing.”

“Me- me neither.”

“Do you like it when I’m stronger than you? When I tell you what to do?”

You remove yourself from his body entirely, and he whips his head at record speed to look at you, desperate for your touch again. You circle the bench once again, standing in front of him. You grab his jaw and lifts his head up to look at you, your other hand messing with his hair. “So pathetic. I’ve barely done anything to you and you’re this hard.”

You finally sit yourself down on his thighs, legs on either side of his torso, and he immediately and instinctively grabs your ass ‘for support’ as he’s always insisted with a grin. 

“You’re so fucking pathetic you’ll do anything I tell you to. Won’t you?” You pout, tilting your head.

“I’ll- I’ll do anything you want.” 

“That’s a good boy,” you mess with and pet his hair again. You loved it when it was just long enough for his curls to appear. 

He shivers. “Can you say it again?”

“Oh, no can do, baby. You’ll have to keep being a good boy to earn it.”

“I’ll- I’ll be a good boy, okay?”

You nod silently, your arms draped around his neck, and you pull yourself closer to get access to his face. You kiss along his jawline slowly, paying extra attention to the spots just under his ears, which made him shiver like crazy. When you find it sufficient, you move down to his neck, and he lets you, tilting his head to the side. You kiss down his neck, trying your best to not leave any marks. He’s still shivering now, and you know him well enough to know he’s okay, but can’t resist teasing him a bit more. 

“Oh no, baby, you’re trembling! Is everything okay?” You feign ignorance.  He doesn’t reply. “Aw are you too horny to speak to me? Is that the issue?” You mock.

He lifts his hips for some friction, an involuntary tell that he was enjoying this too. “Aw, do you like it when I’m mean to you? Huh?” You lift his chin again. He begrudgingly nods his head yes. You smile and move your hand from his chin to his cheeks, squeezing both off them. “Does my baby like it when I’m in control? When I handle you like this? When I call you names?” 

He tries to reply, but can’t really with you squeezing his face like that. 

“Oh I can’t hear you baby!” You let go of his face. “You’re gonna have to say it again.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I- I like it when you’re mean to me.” 

“I know, baby boy. I can feel it.” With no other warning, you palm him through his shorts. He was impossibly hard. Knowing he was liking this was for sure improving your confidence. The moment your hand meets his crotch his breathing becomes unsteady and he thrusts his hips up again, wanting more. You start kissing along his neck as you keep feeling him up through the shorts, and then he is gone. He lets himself let out delicious moans you would play on repeat if you could, tilting his head back to grant you better access to his neck. He wants more, and you know he does. But you want to hear him say it. 

After a few minutes, he does. 

“Please take it off.”

You press a gentle kiss to his neck, containing a grin. “What are you talking about, babe?”

“My shorts, take them off, please. Please, take them off.”

You press a quick peck on his lips this time. “You beg so pretty, baby. I think I’ll need more of that.”

He looks confused.

“Anything I tell you, right?” 

He nods. 

“Good. Eat me out.”

His eyes widen at the bluntness of it all. And then he realizes what you meant by needing more of his begging: you weren’t going to solve his little problem all that soon. 

“I- yes. Yeah.” 

You pull yourself off of him and he stands up as quickly as humanly possible, grabbing your hand and yanking you to Sensei’s office, rushing to move everything that was on his desk. You catch his drift and pull yourself up to sit on it. You’re so enthralled you don’t even really have the time to rethink what you’re doing and where you are. Miguel gets himself on his knees, and the sight of it from above is breathtaking. 

“Are you sure you wanna be on your knees? They’re gonna hurt.” You ask him, seriously this time.

“I don’t care,” is all he says, dismissing the thought. He pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, and you let yourself lean back on your elbows. He brings a hand up your thigh and takes off your underwear, you lift your hips up to help. 

He brings both his hands to your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, opening your legs. 

He wastes no time before diving in, startling you when, in a second, his head is between your thighs while his hands squeeze them hard and his mouth is suddenly on you. 

He moves his tongue up and down your clit, occasionally circling around it. Now and then he takes a long lick, from your hole to your clit, letting out a moan from time to time as he tastes you, and he picks up on the shaky breaths and loud moans you let out at that (and the way your hands fly to his hair, slightly pulling it.) 

He moves his tongue to your hole, licking and kissing around it before getting it inside.

It makes you almost want to scream out his name. 

“Oh my god. You’re being so good to me, baby. Please don’t stop-” 

You can feel his smile. 

He takes one of his hands off of your thigh and moves it to thumb at your clit as he keeps fucking you with his tongue. The feeling is heavenly, but you can’t help but want more. 

“Your fingers.” Is all you say, and he gets it.

Normally in a situation like this he’d be teasing you in some way, but right now just the thought of upsetting you with that and having you leaving him to finish himself off, or something down that lane, got him quiet. 

He changes what he’s doing, going back to flicking your clit with his tongue, and slowly inserting one of his fingers. You decide you want to tease a bit more. “That all you got?” You challenge him, knowing exactly what you’re doing. He inserts another finger, not taking the care to do it slowly this time, and he pushes them deep inside you, curling them upwards to make sure you felt it.

You let out a moan that’s so pornographic you’re almost embarrassed at it, but you can feel him grin at it, pleased with the reaction. He keeps on, but at a slow pace. In other instances, you didn’t mind some slow, passionate sex. You loved it, even. But right now you wanted to be fucked.

“Harder.”

He pulls his head up to kiss you. You let him. As you make out, your taste still on his tongue, his fingers thrust harder, deeper inside you, making you moan into his mouth, which Miguel seemed to enjoy a little too much.

You can feel yourself brimming an orgasm, and your words become nonsense as he keeps on, your noises becoming so higher-pitched you can barely register you’re the one making them. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy fucking-“

It hits you suddenly, killing your train of thought. Your body trembles as he keeps thrusting his fingers into you, letting you ride out your high. He laps it all up gladly, but you pull him away, your clit oversensitive. 

That doesn’t mean you didn’t want more.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yes, baby. You were such a good boy. But I want you to fuck me now.” 

Miguel was still not used to you being this blunt. And honestly neither were you, for the matter. The words just kept coming out. 

“What- what do you want me to do?” 

You get close to his ear and whisper. “Whatever you want, baby.”

His eyes widen. Whatever he wants. 

 He pulls you off the desk and wordlessly takes you back to the locker room. He leaves you for a second to retrieve a condom from his bag. A prepared man, you’d say.

You manage to take a better look at him and laugh. He furrows his eyebrows together. “What?”

“You look so fucked out right now.”

He rolls his eyes at you and takes off his shorts, kicking them away. He goes to pull his boxers down but you stop him, stroking him in an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a groan. “Please stop, I’m not gonna last.”

“Oh poor you.” You yank his boxers down. His dick is so hard it must be painful. And all from losing a fight and being called mean names. He walks the two of you backwards until your back is against a wall. He puts the condom on and looks at you for a green light. 

“Go on, baby.” 

He nods, pressing his cock into your hole slowly, letting you adjust to the intrusion.

“Fuck.” You breathe out.

“Was that a good fuck or a bad fuck? Does it hurt?”

“I’m alright. It was a good fuck.”

“Okay.” He hikes up one of your legs to his waist, and you think he’ll be content with that position, but he hikes up your other leg too, pressing your back even more firmly to the wall and supporting your weight by holding firmly onto the back of your thighs. 

“Woah what are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother responding, thrusting into you experimentally. 

“Holy shit.”

That is enough for him. His thrusts become harder, deeper, faster. He hadn’t realized just how desperate he was until now. 

Hitting the spot inside you that made you see stars with every thrust, it doesn’t take long for his breath to quicken and his thrusts to become sloppier. “I’m gonna- can I-“

Was he trying to ask for permission to cum? Holy fucking shit, that was hot.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. You’ve been so good. You can cum.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he chanted.

 You laugh as his desperation, but it quickly turns into a moan, with Miguel eager to cum and fucking you so hard now you can’t even understand how he could still hold up your weight while doing that. Bless you universe for giving you a strong, strong boyfriend. But all of that didn’t matter now, because he was fucking you so good you could feel the familiar sensation of an orgasm building again.

“Please don’t stop.” That was the first time you begged him for something the whole time.

“I won’t, mi amor.” Oh, that broke you. That one pet name didn’t come out all that frequently, so when it did, you felt giddy on the inside. 

With a few more thrusts, both of you reach your high, and at that point Miguel did have to pull you down, although your legs currently trembled so hard it was a little difficult to stand, but he helps you out after tying the condom up and throwing it away.

“Holy shit,” you finally let out. 

“Holy shit,” he agrees. 

“What were you saying about your loser kink again?”

“Will you shut up about that?” He smiles.

“Was I too mean to you? I might’ve gotten a little carried away."

He looks down to the floor in embarrassment as if he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion. “I liked it.”

“That’s good baby. So, shower?”

“Yeah you stink,” he makes a disgusted face, plugging his nose and everything just to irritate you. 

You roll your eyes at him. 

A/N: pls be kind to me and cut me some slack i've never posted smut before 😭 i promise ive had sex before 😭 fighting for my life lmao

[littlewriters-posts]

Phoenix - Damon Salvatore

Part two of the request I got the other day

part one is here

https://www.tumblr.com/littlewriters-posts/751027674692059136/hey-darling-can-i-request-the-damon-salvatore-x?source=share

Plot: Y/N comes to mystic falls as a foster kid, knowing nothing of the supernatural world. The catch? Y/N lost all her memories, of the past 150 years.

Stefan had sworn both Elena and Damon to secrecy.

Damon had come storming in, his usual stony expression riddled with worry, interrupting Stefan and Elena, announcing the arrival of his old love - that somehow she had come back to life.

Elena was sceptical at first "Are you sure it's not just another doppelganger curse?" she asked, a frown on her face. The name rang bells in her head but she couldn't quite place why.

Stefan shook his head "No, she told Damon she had the Phoenix curse. Not too unsimilar from your one actually, apparently she when she dies she gets reborn again from the ashes, all memories wiped,"

"Except when she wore that necklace," Damon interjected "If we could just find it, we could get her memories back!"

And she would remember me, went unspoken.

Stefan sucked his teeth slightly. Part of him wanted to dismiss Damon's hope, but the other half recognized that this was the first ounce of humanity Damon had shown in years.

"What did you say her name was again?" Elena asked

"Y/N, L/N," Damon said "Apparently she's now living with your friend, the Bonnie," he raised his eyebrows at her, as if demanding an explanation.

Elena's eyes widened "Oh my god," she muttered to herself before turning back to Stefan "Bonnie said that her Grams had signed the papers to adopt this girl, Bonnie said it came out of nowhere. But then she died, and demanded that Bonnie's dad do it instead,"

"Y/N, from my time anyway, was very close to the Bennet witches," Stefan mused silently.

"Yeah they spent years looking for her, and failing," Damon added

Stefan then turned very serious "Damon if she is Y/N you cannot go near her. Remember she doesn't know you, and you don't want to scare her away,"

"I won't scare her away," Damon said looking mildly offended "I am the eternal stud, everyone loves me,"

Stefan rolled his eyes "We really need to find out if it is her first, or just some weird coincidence,"

"What so she can fall in love with some boring human?" Damon asked snidely.

Elena stood up, looking sympathetically at Damon, which he hated.

"Look she loved you once right? I'm sure she'll love you again," she reassured and Damon scoffed so she continued. "She'll be with Bonnie on Monday, I'll become friends with her first, then we can go from there,"

Damon grumbled, but seemed satisfied with that answer, and disappeared upstairs without another word.

Stefan walked up to Elena, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"As much as I hate to say it, he's not the same person he was when he first met her, and chances are she's exactly the same,"

Elena sighed "We'll see what she's like on Monday,"

Y/N was terrified. Dressed in her flares and green top that Bonnie had kindly bought for her, she faced herself in the mirror.

The thought of being in the same room as people she didn't know made her feel rather sick.

"You'll be fine," Bonnie reassured, leaning on the door "Come on, I'll drive you,"

Y/N nodded, brushing all negative thoughts out of her head as she followed her new friend out of the door.

She tried to focus on Bonnie's voice as she chatted at her, telling her all the school drama as if knowing that would help her fit in more with the rest of the group.

But all she could focus on was the outside world, and how different yet familiar it seemed to her.

"We're here," Bonnie announced "Come on, Elena and Caroline are meeting us inside,"

Y/N nodded, giving the other girl a grateful smile. Bonnie had already told her everything about the two others girls, Elena was the sweet one who's parents died in a car crash, and Caroline was slightly outspoken, but lovely when you got to know her.

Elena hadn't told her friends about Damon's history with the new girl, for some reason it didn't seem right. She didn't want to taint anyone's view of the girl before they met her.

Y/N hid behind Bonnie slightly, as they approached the two girls who were waving excitedly at them.

Caroline was quick to embrace Y/N in a hug "Oh I am so excited you're here! It's about time we got some new people in this town,"

Elena rolled her eyes with a smile "It's nice to meet you," she said

As Elena studied Y/N she couldn't help but think that she was nothing like she imagined. She pictured someone meddlesome, someone stony faced and cold hearted like Damon not - not this.

Elena watched as Y/N gave a shy smile, her head held high but fidgeting fingers giving away her nerves.

She reminded her of a baby deer...or lamb...or maybe an otter. Something vulnerable.

"How are you finding it? Have you ever been to school before?" Caroline asked. Elena smacked her arm

"Caroline!" she exclaimed and Caroline looked sheepish.

"Sorry,"

Y/N shook her head with a smile "It's okay, I don't mind answering questions. I - I actually have amnesia, I don't remember anything until I reached about sixteen? Then I was home-schooled by my foster mom,"

Caroline stared at her with wide eyes "So you've never been to a party?"

Y/N shrugged "I mean I might have done, I just won't remember it,"

"Well you're in luck, the founders ball is soon!" Caroline practically squealed "I won Miss Mystic Falls last year, so I can help pick out your dress!"

Y/N hesitated, the thought of entering the hall with yet more people was giving her heart palpations, but she also wanted to make friends.

"Sure, when?" she asked with a smile

"How about Saturday?" Caroline asked and Y/N looked to Bonnie for help.

"We'll be there," Bonnie reassured and Y/N sighed with relief, at least there would be somebody she knew.

"What class have you got first?" Caroline asked, reading Y/N scheduled over her shoulder "Oh no fair! You'll be with Elena and Bonnie," she sighed dramatically.

"ooo History with Mr Tanner, good luck," Elena said, giving Y/N a smile "He's evil,"

Y/N laughed "Surely he can't be that bad,"

Y/N was wrong.

Not only did Mr Tanner sit her at the back in between a boy called Matt Donavon, he also sat her behind another boy called Stefan Salvatore, who was so tall she had very little hope to see the board in-front of the class.

And then he had the audacity to ask her question's in-front of the entire class.

She was quite sure he face was utterly red, and Stefan turned round to face her, making the redness worse.

"It's okay, he did that to me the first time as well, he's a dick," he reassured and Y/N felt the sudden urge to hide under her desk.

"Thankyou," she whispered, her eyes lowering to her paper and Stefan gave her a soft smile, trying not to show his concern.

If he had any doubts now they were sealed. He only knew one person who looked that panicked when talking to people, and he could recognize that face anywhere.

Unfortunate it meant she was still the same person that she was before, and Damon wasn't.

After history Y/N was grateful to Caroline, who talked her ear off on who was hot and who was not, although she found herself growing weary of the constant chatter and found her gaze wandering across the courtyard.

A large crow caught her eye, as it stared at her unblinkingly.

"We're going to the Grill after school wanna come?" Bonnie asked, cutting Caroline off her rant as she did so.

"I'd love that," Y/N said softly, breaking her gaze from the bird.

"What have you got next?" Elena asked

"Er - maths," Y/N replied, checking her schedule.

"Ah shoot, we've all got Biology," Bonnie said sympathetically

"It's okay, Stefan has maths, he can show you the way!" Elena interjected, smiling at her friend.

Y/N grimaced, as much as she didn't have anything against the boy, she'd take getting lost as appose to having to strike up a conversation with a stranger.

"I don't want to bother him," she said quietly.

Elena shook her head, before waving Stefan over from where he sat on the bench.

"You'll like him, he's quiet like you," Caroline reassured and Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"Ignore her," she said smiling apologetically.

"What did I say?" Caroline frowned, but Y/N smiled.

"It's okay, I get what she meant."

Caroline smiled from ear to ear. She often felt out of place, constantly saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, or saying it the wrong way and getting reprimanded. But Y/N made her feel understood.

"Do you mind walking Y/N to maths?" Elena asked Stefan as he approached.

"Sure," he shrugged "I'll make sure you don't get lost,"

Y/N smiled gratefully, not quite meeting his eyes before waving goodbye to her friends and following alongside him.

"How are you finding your first day?" he asked eventually, noticing her fidgeting hands immediately.

"It's okay, just a lot of people," she shrugged, glancing around at the people shoving past her and she shrank a little.

"Must be overwhelming," he mused thinking slightly "You know there's a graveyard not far from here - sounds dark but I find it's the only place you can really get some peace and quiet,"

Y/N looked up at him, for the first time meeting his eyes. "Thankyou," she said earnestly. "I've only got a half day today, something about adjusting to school life, so I might go after then - where is it?"

"Turn right out of school, go down the road to the old bridge and turn left," Stefan said simply as Y/N hurried to jot it down.

Someone with her sense of direction had to be prepared.

"Great and er - how do I get to the Grill from there?" she asked nervously.

Stefan didn't judge "Follow the middle path into the woods, keep going and then go left at the second turning. Turn right when you get to the old building. Just follow that path and it'll lead you back to the street,"

She thanked him again, feeling slightly relieved that she wouldn't have to navigate it without help, nor would she have to ask a complete stranger.

After Maths, Y/N bid goodbye to the younger Salvatore brother, before texting the girls where she was going, and that she would meet them at the grill later. With Stefan's direction's written down, she was sure she wouldn't get lost, and too her relief she didn't.

So there she sat, next to a random grave, her head resting against the cool stone.

In her hands lay a notebook, the date marked clearly at the top as she jotted her thoughts down.

Her doctor had suggested a diary, after losing your memory for no apparent reason there was no evidence to suggest it wouldn't happen again.

She didn't notice Damon watched her from the shadows, a pained look on his face. He hated the way she looked so tense, her fingers often pulling at the strands of hair that had escaped the messy braid. He could even smell the blood that came from her bitten lips.

But what he hated most was how she was exactly the same. The same slight crease between the brows, the same nervous fidget patten, the same soft hum as she wrote.

It was like she had never changed, like nothing had ever changed her.

He wanted to speak to her, even for a moment but he stopped himself. She hadn't changed, but he had. Even if she did, even if she could, remember him, would she still love him after learning everything he had done? Everyone he had killed?

Would she be able to see past the scars he's obtained and his bloody hands and still be able to see him?

He didn't know. And that killed him.

So there in the shadows he stayed, watching and praying that she would be kept safe.

Y/N shut her book with a sigh, stuffing it back in her bag. She glanced at her phone and saw that it was time to go, surprised that she had been this long.

But it was nice, the quiet, it made her feel whole again.

"Right, to the Grill we go," she muttered, biting her lip slightly.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and started walking down the middle path. She was unaware the Damon was still watching her with the same pained expression.

She came to the turning and abruptly turning, feeling rather pleased with herself as she did so for not getting lost.

As she walked she took out the slip of paper she had jotted the directions down in, and to her absolute horror the ink had smudged.

"Oh no. Oh nononono," she muttered, looking around herself in horror. She remembered something about turning near a building but what building was that?

She turned, telling herself she would just go back the way she came and ask for help, before realising the path she was walking down was a forked path and she couldn't remember which one she had taken.

"Oh crap crap crap," she whispered.

She felt the air around her grow colder, her lungs fighting for air as she tried not to panic. She'd been lost before, she'd be fine. It's not like Mystic Falls was dangerous.

Behind his hiding place, Damon cursed himself. He looked at her panic stricken face, the face he'd seen a thousand times before when she was forced into social situations, and felt his heart tug slightly.

"You lost?"

Y/N whirled around, her eyes wide and heart pounding, before coming face to face with the man she met her first night of Mystic Falls.

"Damon?" she questioned, frowning slightly "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, walking towards her trying to look as non threatening as possible. "I like it here, it's quiet,"

Y/N relaxed slightly "Stefan said the same thing - you're related aren't you? Same last name and all,"

Damon smirked slightly "Brothers," he responded. "So are you lost?"

Y/N's cheeks reddened slightly, a slight pout on her lower lip "If I say no, will you save me my dignity but help me anyway?"

Damon laughed "So you've got an abysmal sense of direction, it's not the worst thing to be bad at - come on, it's this way,"

"How do you know where I'm going?" she asked

Damon froze for a second before recovering "Stefan's going to the Grill too, I just assumed,"

Y/N shrugged, falling comfortably into step besides him. She couldn't tell what it was, but she felt more at ease with him than anyone she'd met so far at Mystic Falls. Like she already knew him.

"They go out a lot, I don't know how they do it," she mused, covering up a yawn.

Damon eyed her carefully, not wanting to come off like he was staring but also unable to tear his gaze away from her.

"You could just not go?" he offered but she shook her head.

"I can't, I need to go to the Grill anyway to ask about any jobs they've got going there," she sighed "These girls love shopping,"

Damon frowned "Job? Aren't you a little young to have to work? You should be out their partying," he smirked.

Y/N wrinkled her nose "Plenty people my age work Damon, I'm not a child. Besides, I don't have any family money...or any family and once I turn eighteen I don't get any support anymore,"

Damon said nothing at first. Money had never been an issue for him, he was a Salvatore after all, and his powers of persuasion meant he could get anything he wanted if he was smart about it. But she was just playing a human over and over again, with nothing to fall back on.

"Well I'm sure you'll find something," he said finally "Mystic Falls is fully of rich people, which mean nobody wants to work," he said amusedly and Y/N laughed.

"Alright Miss Y/N, you're here," Damon announced waving his hand in-front of his as if she would miss The Grill building right in-front of her.

"Thankyou so much Damon, that's twice you've helped me out now - I can't thank you enough," Y/N said sweetly, smiling up at him.

Damon swore he felt his dead heart stop.

"It's no problem - just do me a favour and don't tell my brother. He doesn't like me much,"

Y/N didn't question it as she waved goodbye to him and stepped into the restaurant to meet her friends.

Damon watched her through the window, still not wanting to tear his eyes away from her. His attention soon diverted to the bar manager coming out the store for his smoke break.

Within a flash Damon was next to him, forcing the man to look him dead in the eye as he did so.

"You are going to accept Y/N L/N into whatever job she wants, with whatever hours she requires and pay her double for working weekends," he said lowly.

Compulsion really was handy.

In the bar, Y/N was laughing with Caroline, the other two not appearing yet.

"So who's your date going to be?" Caroline asked gleefully, "I mean you don't have to have one, but you also kinda do if you want to go for Miss Mystic Falls," she added.

Y/N shrugged "I don't really know anyone Caroline, I'm quite happy just to watch and support you,"

Caroline's features softened slightly "You're so sweet," she gushed "Elena and Bonnie don't really like it, they think it's old fashioned,"

"Well it is," Y/N pointed out "But just because something is traditionally feminine doesn't mean you can't enjoy it,"

Caroline smiled "See this is why I like you, you just get it. So tell me, any cute guys caught your eyes yet?"

Y/N shook her head with a smile "Is that all that goes on through your head?" she asked.

Caroline shrugged "You'd only say that if you were deflecting!" she pointed out "Spill,"

"There isn't! I've met like, three guys since I've been here, one of the is Elena's boyfriend and the other is her ex!"

"So who's the third?" Caroline asked, her eyes widening.

Y/N blinked - she hadn't expected Caroline to catch onto that little detail. She gulped slightly, the feeling of tightness returning to her chest. Damon hadn't wanted Stefan to know about him helping her - and Caroline would surely tell him. But she also didn't want to lie.

"Oh erm...I met him on my first day. I got lost finding Bonnie's house and he helped me,"

Caroline clapped her hands together "Oh my goodness! What did he look like, was he hot? What was his name?"

Y/N laughed slightly, amused by the blonde's actions "I don't know, he was tall, dark hair. Really sweet,"

"Oh I bet it was Tyler! You know he's been staring at you all day," Caroline gushed and Y/N blinked.

"Tyler?" she questioned the name foreign on her tongue.

Caroline nodded "Yeah he's on the football team! A bit of a douche but when he likes you he's just the sweetest,"

Y/N nodded slightly, her gaze shifting round the bar "Does anyone at school work?" she asked nervously and Caroline's gaze shifted into one of sympathy.

"Yeah, Matt actually works here. And Tyler sometimes helps his dad with Mayor stuff,"

Y/N nodded, the gnawing pit in her stomach growing slightly. She hadn't even considered that people would look down on her for having a job before Damon's tone of voice told her otherwise.

"But don't worry, no one will care. A girl called Vicky used to work here, and nobody picked on her for having a job," Caroline reassured

Y/N then spotted the manager who was heading back to the bar. "Oop - there he is - wish me luck!"

"Good luck sweetie, hope you get it!"

As Y/N walked over, she mustered the courage to actually look the man in the eyes as she spoke to him, hoping that forcing herself to make eye contact would help.

"Hi," she gave a small awkward wave "I'm Y/N L/N, I was just wondering if you had any waitressing jobs going,"

The Managers eyes seem to shift a little, before he responded with a great smile on his face "Of course! Someone just left today so we have an opening. We can fit the hours around you, and you get double when you work on weekends,"

"Oh!" exclaimed Y/N, not expecting it to be that easy. In fact she was kind of upset since she had a whole speech written on how she would be a great worker. "Oh great, when can I start?" she asked.

"How about next Wednesday? Wednesdays are the quietist days, so we'll have plenty of time to show you the ropes,"

Y/N tried to hide her excitement "Great - thankyou so much!" she called over her shoulder as she practically raced back to the table.

Bonnie and Elena had arrived, sitting down in the vacant seats.

"Did you get it?" Caroline asked and Y/N nodded happily. The girls applauded her, giving her hugs and for the first time Y/N felt truly in place.

"What you can still come shopping with us right?" Elena asked worriedly and Y/N nodded,

"Yeah he said I start on Wednesday and I can pick my hours," Y/N said, taking a sip of her drink.

"Nice," Elena said approvingly "Well done Y/N,"

Y/N blushed a little "Thank Elena,"

Non of them noticed Damon, sat in the corner facing away from them, a small smile on his face.

Saturday rolled around sooner than Y/N had expected and she found herself slightly dreading it. As much as she loved her friends, they were richer than she was and whilst they would be looking at the prettiest dress, she would be looking at the price tag that came with it.

But as she entered the dress shop with her friends, all thoughts soon vanished as she laughed at Caroline's dramatics.

"I wish we could of found you a date - you would have had such a great shot at winning," Caroline said sadly but Y/N shrugged.

"I'd rather just sit and watch then have to dance with somebody I don't know," she replied.

"Well still...I'm going to try this dress on!" she announced picking up a blue number.

Elena patted Y/N shoulder "Ignore her, it doesn't really matter," she reassured. "Which one should I try on?" she then asked, holding up two almost identical dresses.

"Both of them," Y/N replied simply "We've got all day haven't we - and Bonnie why don't you try that green one over there, you'd look stunning!"

Bonnie smiled, grabbing the green dress to change.

It was then a dress in the corner corner caught Y/N's eye, it was a dusty purple, the slight jewels encrusting the top. It was beautiful.

She glanced at the tag.

Way out of her price range.

"Would you like to try it on?" The shopkeeper asked gently but Y/N shook her head.

"No it's okay, it's way out of my budget anyway,"

The shopkeeper bit her lip, "You can try it on anyways, no harm in a little dress up,"

Y/N looked at her hopefully.

"Really?"

The shopkeeper nodded with a smile and Y/N's smile brightened, as she rushed into the changing room.

The dress fit her perfectly, hugging her figure in all the right places before flaring at the bottom. The colour seemed to make her skin glow.

Too bad it was too expensive.

"Come on, let us see!" Caroline begged and Y/N sighed, opening the curtain and letting the girls squeal over it.

"Oh it fit's you perfectly!" Bonnie remarked "You need to get it,"

Y/N shook her head with a smile "And buy the first dress I try on?" she responded, not wanting to tell them that it was simply too expensive.

"See - she get's it," Caroline said with a laugh "No go change so we can try more stuff on," she pulled the curtain back over her friend.

She sighed, wriggling out of the dress with difficulty before placing it back on the hanger.

She handed it to the shopkeeper with a smile.

"It was beautiful but I just can't afford it," she said sadly.

The shopkeeper nodded understandingly "We have a sale section over there if you'd like?"

Y/N nodded, before spotting Caroline sorting through many dresses in her arms.

"Got enough there Caroline?" she asked amusedly and the blonde sighed in exasperation.

"I just don't know which one to pick, I wore blue when I won last year, but I've already worn blue," she tutted putting the blue dress back on the rails. "You found anything yet?" she asked.

Y/N thought back to the purple dress, but didn't want her friend to pity her.

"No, I might come back another day," she said softly. Or to another cheaper shop she added in her head.

"I'm starving, shall we go to the grill?" Bonnie asked.

"We go there all the time, I'm sick of chips and the smell of beer," Caroline whined. "Can't we go back the the Salvatore house, they always have great snacks,"

Elena hesitated. Her and Stefan were trying everything they could to keep Damon from doing something rash, and that meant trying to keep Y/N away from him.

"I'm actually kind of tired," Elena said, yawning. "Why don't we go to that smoothie place downtown and then we can all go home?"

That seemed to go down well with the rest of the group, and Caroline quickly bought Y/N's smoothie before the other two could notice, and before she could protest.

"Don't worry about it," she brushed off when Y/N tried to pay her back, so the girl just sipped her smoothie in peace.

When Y/N arrived home, she was utterly exhausted from the full day, and was about to collapse on the bed when she noticed a parcel on it.

She frowned, wondering who on earth would have put it there. She's been with the girls all day and Bonnie's dad was away on business.

Perhaps Elena had Stefan drop it off, or maybe Bonnie had snuck in whilst Y/N was downstairs.

She opened the box carefully and gasped.

Inside it was the same dusty purple dress she had tried on in the shop.

She gingerly took it from the box, looking everywhere for some kind of tag to say who it was from but there was nothing.

"Bonnie?" she called uncertainly, not knowing whether or not to be excited about it.

Bonnie came in, fresh out the shower and drying her hair. "You o - oh you bought it!" she gushed remarking at the dress.

But Y/N shook her head.

"No I couldn't afford it, it was just here when I got back,"

Bonnie frowned "Oh...maybe Caroline bought it for you then? You know what she's like,"

"Yeah," Y/N echoed staring at the mystery dress "Do you think I should wear it?"

Bonnie nodded "I mean it would be rude not to, and it is a beautiful dress. Besides what harm could a dress do?"

Y/N shrugged, putting the dress on the hanger and hanging it outside her wardrobe, admiring it in the light, before a tap on the window startled her.

She whirled around, only to see a crow staring at her unblinking through the glass pane.

"Oh shit," Bonnie muttered, her eyes wide "Y/N I'm just gonna make a phone call okay?" she said quickly, before practically running out of the room.

But Y/N attention was on the bird as she opened her window for it.

"You hungry?" she asked and threw the bird a bit of bread. It just stared at her some more, before flying away. She shrugged, closing the window.

Back at the Salvatore household, Elena and Stefan rounded on Damon with narrowed eyes.

"Tell me why Y/N has just received a dress that she didn't buy, but was trying on earlier today?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

Damon scoffed "I don't owe you an explanation," he said snidely.

Elena shook her head "You need to stay away from her Damon, she doesn't remember you. You're just going to end up hurting yourself,"

Damon shook his head "I didn't go near her did I? I bought her a dress that she wanted, and she doesn't even know it was me. Tell her Caroline bought it, she's always doing stuff like that,"

Stefan had so far said nothing, not even when Elena turned to him for backup. Instead he was looking at his brother with a saddened expression.

"It's okay," he finally said with a sigh "I mean, it's not like he's hurting her,"

Elena pursed her lips, not wanting to admit that she simply just didn't trust Damon around her new friend. But she had to admit, she met Damon when he was at his worst, and Y/N originally met him when he was still human.

Damon said nothing, but carried his bottle of bourbon up to his room.

"Maybe they should meet," Stefan said lowly "I mean, he's not going to kill her,"

Elena shook her head "So he can take his pain out on other people when she doesn't fall in love with him? You said so yourself, Damon's a monster - and Y/N just doesn't seem like the type to deal with that,"

Stefan stared into the fire, a thoughtful expression on his face. "What if they met here? That way we could keep an eye on Damon, make sure he doesn't do anything too rash, but at least he wouldn't be secretly trying to see her without us knowing,"

"Okay," Elena nodded, "But after the founder's ball next week, I can only focus on so many things at once,"

Y/N found herself in two minds over the founders ball. On the one hand, it was quite exciting to be getting dressed up and ready with her new found friends, but on the other hand, it was a long day to be around people.

She tried to push that thought out of her mind until Bonnie said,

"We're all having an after party at the Salvatore's, so I'll drive you there after,"

Y/N tried not to show her grimace "Do I need to bring spare clothes?" she asked and Bonnie shrugged.

"I'm pretty sure Caroline will change into another dress, but me and Elena will be going casual so it's up to you,"

Y/N then crammed a skirt and jumper into her bag, with some joggers in case it got too cold.

After Bonnie helped her tie the corset laces on her dress, the sudden restriction of breath was noticeable but not uncomfortable.

"You look stunning," Bonnie reassured, seeing the fleeting look o nerves overtake her friends face. "Now listen, I'm driving but me and Elena and Caroline all have to go upstairs because of the Miss Mystic Falls thingy, but we'll come find you as soon as we can okay?"

Y/N nodded, deciding against speaking for the fear that the nerves would make her be sick. She was nervous, and she didn't even have a part to play.

She was grateful for the three girls as they all chatted in the car, meaning that she didn't have too, and even as they left to go upstairs, Y/N gave them a small smile and wished them good luck.

Now what.

She glanced around the room, feeling suddenly very small as she realised she didn't really know anybody in there. She settled by grabbing a glass of champagne that she knew she wouldn't drink and settling in the corner, watching everyone go by in their dresses.

She watched and clapped as one by one the elected girls descended the stairs, each one getting an applause before moving to the middle of the room.

"That's a beautiful dress," Came a voice, and Y/N jumped slightly, turning towards the sound of the voice. Her demeanour relaxed slightly as she realised who it was.

"Hello Damon," she said, her smile more genuine. "And thankyou, I'm not entirely sure who got it for me, but I love it,"

Damon said nothing, but a small smile played on his lips.

"You don't look to be enjoying yourself," he acknowledged and she sighed.

"I know, I'm just...I hate crowds," she admitted "I'm so glad you're here, finally a face I recognize,"

Damon stared at her a little, the want to let all of his emotions tumble off his tongue was great, but he knew that it would be a disaster if he did so.

"You owe me a favour, Since I have rescued you what - twice now?" he asked teasingly.

Y/N rolled her eyes "Alright Mr Salvatore, what do you want?" she went along playfully.

"A dance," he replied simply, extending his hand and she laughed nervously.

"I'm a terrible dancer, I don't think I've ever even learnt!" she exclaimed but Damon's blue eyes met her wide ones and she relented a little.

"I'll lead you," he replied gently, taking her hand in his own. "Come on,"

Y/N accepted his hand, gracefully walking to the middle where more couples were now dancing with the original girls.

"This is going to be so embarrassing," she muttered, her eyes darting around as she saw that other people were watching her.

"Hey - look at me," Damon commanded, his tone soft. So she did, his blue eyes staring into her own and she felt her breath hitch slightly. There was something ever so familiar about them, like a safeness that she couldn't quite place, like somewhere she had been before but couldn't quite remember.

And they were dancing, in sync and ever so graceful, neither one of them ever breaking eye-contact with each other.

"Oh my god, is that Y/N with Damon?" Caroline ran up to Elena, horrified and Elena nodded with a grimace.

"It's complicated," Elena whispered back to her friend. "We think Y/N used to be an old friend of his - well old girlfriend - back when Damon was human. But she disappeared, and now she's back. And here's the catch - she doesn't remember any of it,"

Caroline's eyes widened "Y/N a vampire?" she whispered in shock but Elena shook her head.

"No she's cursed, every time she dies she get's born back into the same body, with no memory of the life before,"

Caroline looked at Damon, narrowing her eyes "If I didn't hate him so much I'd feel sorry for him - do you think he still loves her?"

Elena nodded with a sigh "Stefan said he never stopped looking for her after she disappeared,"

Bonnie grimaced "Can we please stop feeling sorry for Mr Killer over there, he's literally killed people Elena. We can't let him have Y/N, we both know he's end up hurting her,"

But as the trio watched Y/N and Stefan dance, even Caroline who hated Damon the most, couldn't help but admit the softness in his eyes when he looked at Y/N. Like a humanity that wasn't there before.

"You're an excellent dancer," Damon remarked, pulling her to the side after the song ended.

"I was only following you," she laughed, "Also why do all these drinks have alcohol in, what's wrong with something that actually taste nice," she said bitterly, setting down a champagne glass with a wrinkled nose.

"I'll get you something," Damon reassured "Wait here,"

Y/N didn't have chance to tell him that he didn't have to, he was already gone.

"I do hope my brother wasn't bothering you," Came the voice of Stefan Salvatore as he walked over to her.

She shook her head "No, he's actually really sweet," she said with a soft smile, glancing back to where he had gone too. "He's actually gone to get me drink since I don't like champagne,"

Stefan raised his eyebrows but didn't comment further on the matter, not daring to spoil her image of his brother.

"Where's Elena?" she asked.

"Gone to find her brother I think," Stefan glanced around to spot his girlfriend who was indeed chatting to her little brother. "I'm driving you all to the afterparty now, but I'm coming back for him because there's no room in the car,"

"I thought Bon was driving?" Y/N asked with a frown but Stefan shook his head.

"She's already drinking," he said amusedly

"No worried Brother, I'll take her," Damon had come back, standing besides Y/N and staring at his brother with an emotion Y/N couldn't quite place. "Got you some orange juice," he said, giving her a slightly smile. She thanked him.

Stefan hesitated, not wanting to start a scene, but also not having an excuse ready.

"Alright," he finally said after staring his brother back some more "We're leaving in ten minutes,"

Stefan then left, and Y/N eyed the que to the toilets with distaste. She didn't fancy waiting in the line just to get changed like many of the other girls were.

"Can we go back sooner?" Y/N asked, and Damon turned back to her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"And why would you want that?" he asked and Y/N's cheeks burned.

"No - I didn't mean-" she stuttered slightly before gathering her thought's and frowning at him "I just want to get changed," she said defiantly.

Damon laughed "Relax I'm just messing with you, come on before Stefan think's I'm kidnapping you,"

Y/N rolled her eyes, put picked up her skirts so they wouldn't trail on the floor, before picking up her bags that she had left in the cloakroom. Or tried to, before Damon took them from her.

"And who would I be if I let a lady carry her own bags," he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She curtseyed playfully "Well thankyou Mr Salvatore," she said mockingly, a slight blush blossoming her cheeks.

She didn't understand why, but she felt more comfortable around Damon than anyone else she had met so far, except perhaps Elena, and she had been around him the least.

But there was something utterly familiar about him.

He gave her a cocky grin before opening the car door for her.

"How long are you going to keep up this gentleman act?" she asked as he got in the drivers seat. He put a hand on his chest in mock offense.

"What makes you think it's an act?" he asked, and Y/N laughed, which was quickly followed by a yawn. "You're sure you're up for a party?" he asked.

Y/N nodded, her head resting against the window watching the scenery drive by.

"Thank-you for being so kind to me," she said, glancing at him. His fingers tightened one the wheel slightly.

"You're welcome," was all he said. As she turned away, he tried desperately not to look at her, not to wear his heart on his sleeve like she wore hers.

"Welcome to the Salvatore party," he said when he arrived "Bathrooms down the hall, go right then wa-I'll show you," he said, realising that she would probably get lost.

He then noticed the slight frown on her face "What's wrong," he asked, concerned.

She shook her head "Nothing, It just looks really familiar,"

Damon shrugged "Looks like any old museum I guess,"

She smiled at him as he opened the door to the bathroom, shutting it behind her as she entered.

"Be quick, or I'll miss you too much," he called out and smiled to himself when he heard her laugh.

In the bathroom, Y/N was quick to get dressed, the only problem being she couldn't quite reach the laced up corset and she groaned.

Stepping timidly out of the bathroom she spotted Damon who was leaning against the wall, staring into space.

"Damon?" she asked, and he turned to her with raised eyebrows. "Ca you help untie me please?"

He froze for a second as she lifted her hair, turning her back to him.

His fingers danced carefully over her skin, the temptation to hold her almost overwhelming but he cleared his throat and pushed that thought out of his head.

He carefully undid all the silk ties, letting him fall beneath his fingers. Y/N clasped the front of the dress tightly, so not to let it fall down.

"There you go," Damon said quietly, almost whispering. Y/N turned to him, almost bumping noses with how close they were.

"Thankyou," she replied softly, glancing into his blue eyes as they studied her own, before clearing her throat and returning to the bathroom to get dressed once more.

Damon leant on the wall his hands rubbing his head.

He needed to get a grip he decided.

Y/N changed into the miniskirt that Elena had leant her, with an oversized jumper that barely brushed the bottom of the skirt.

"Okay I'm all ready," she announced and Damon smiled lazily at her.

"About time, the party is about to get started." he said, leading her away and to where numerous people were already standing and Y/N felt herself shrink behind him slightly.

"Y/N!" Elena announced, grabbing her friend by the arm and leading her away from Damon with a glare to the man. Damon watched, biting the urge to follow her down.

Y/N looked back to him, looking slightly regretful and giving him a soft smile, which he raised his glass too.

"So you and Damon?" Bonnie questioned, raising her eyebrows.

Y/N felt her skin burn slightly "He's really sweet," she said quietly

Caroline screwed her nose up "But-Damon seriously? He's such a dick,"

Elena rolled her eyes "Maybe he just really likes Y/N," she said pointedly to Caroline, who pursed her lips slightly.

For the rest of the night the girls kept a close eye on Y/N, not wanting her to see Damon but also not wanting her too suspect anything. However as the night drew on, the girls got more drunk, and Y/N remained sober allowing her to slip away.

It's not that she wanted away from them in particular, but the crowds were getting far too much for her.

So she found herself wandering the halls of the Salvatore building, the vague familiarity of it making her head spin a little. Her fingers ran down the walls as she walked, feeling the old wallpaper beneath her fingers.

She came to the double doors, and something in the back of her mind was begging her to open it, so she did and gasped.

A library.

It was beautiful, with even a seating area near an old fireplace and rows and rows of books.

She marvelled at the sheer amount, before picking a random one and collapsing on the sofa that was there. It didn't take her long to get comfy, curling up against the arm, the book on her lap.

Back at the party, Damon was looking for her, the slight worry settling in his heart.

He cornered Elena, frowning at her "Where's Y/N?" he demanded "I thought you wanted to keep her safe,"

Elena looked around "I thought she went to find you," she said, the worry edging into her voice, barely audible over the slurring of her words as she danced with an empty cup in her hands.

Damon glowered at her, if it was anybody else she would have had her throat ripped out, but he stopped himself.

"Guess I'll go find her," he said sharply.

It was then the thought occurred to him that Y/N said she found the place familiar, and he was sure that apart from in 1864, she had never stepped foot in the building.

And where did she go whenever there was a party?

The library.

He almost laughed when he saw her, curled up against the arm of the sofa, a book in her lap and utterly oblivious to the world around her.

"We were worried about you," he said smoothly, trying to mask the dying worry in his voice.

Y/N looked up with wide eyes, quickly shutting the book and scrambling to her feet. "Oh God I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. It's just...you have a library in your house," she said weakly, looking embarrassed.

Damon waved her off "You're welcome to use it any time you like, the door is always open,"

Y/N smiled gratefully at him, sitting back down in the seat.

Damon watched as she read, the uncanny similarity between now and when he first met her almost to real to bare. Yet she didn't know him now, just like she didn't know him then.

But maybe she didn't need to remember him, maybe he could get her to fall in love with him a second time.

Y/N shivered slightly, even her thin jumper not quite enough to protect her from the coldness of the large house, especially since the room itself was so big.

Damon eyed her "You look exhausted, want me to take you home?" he asked sincerely.

Y/N shook her head "I can't, Bonnie has the house keys and god knows where she is,"

"You're more than welcome to stay here," Damon said softly and Y/N looked up at him in surprise.

"I wouldn't want to intrude," she declined but Damon shook his head at her.

"It's a boarding house Y/N, we have tons of spare bedrooms for exactly that reason,"

Y/N bit her lip, her eyes downcast as she considered her options. "Only if you're sure," she said finally and Damon resisted the urge to celebrate.

"Come on then sleepy, up to bed," Damon said smirking slightly, helping out of her cozy position on the sofa. She groaned softly as she felt her joints click, but the warmth of Damon's hand in her own made it all worth it.

"Do we have to go through the party?" she whispered as she exited the library.

"God no, Elena would kill me," Damon said mindlessly.

"Why?" Y/N asked curiously and Damon froze, realising what he just said.

"I can be a dick," he responded after a beat. He didn't want to go any further, unsure on what she already knew, and the fear that she would then hate him was evident.

Y/N shrugged "Well, at least you admit it," she said a smile "First step to recovery I guess,"

Damon scoffed "I do not need to recover,"

Y/N bit her lip to stop herself from laughing, which Damon noticed with a slight smile. He opened one of the doors, allowing her to step inside.

"You should find everything you need in here, there's an en-suite so you won't get lost trying to find the bathroom, and there will be some clothes you can sleep in," he said in mischievous tone, a suggestive joke on the tip of his tongue but for some reason he stopped himself before he could say it.

"Thankyou Damon, really," Y/N said sincerely, after marvelling at the room.

Damon nodded at her with a smile, before going to close the door as he left.

"Damon?" Y/N asked, and he popped his head round the door lazily, his blue eyes never leaving hers. "For what it's worth, I like you,"

Damon felt his heart leap into his chest. It wasn't a love confession, he knew that, but she liked him. She wanted to be his friend, and that was a step in the right direction.

"I like you too sleepy, now get some sleep,"

Y/N nodded with a smile, staring at the door as he closed it behind him.

Part of her wanted him to stay, but the other part was content knowing she'd see him in the morning.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

gimme more

pairing: joel x reader x tommy

tags/cws: sex pollen (reader is infected by it), breeding kink

summary: joel is just being a good friend by helping reader out, and tommy is just being a good brother by tag-teaming

a/n: div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

this is kind of theoretically set in jackson (AU where nothing bad happens lol), but we're going to pretend that the writer has finished tlou2 (and has not been caught up in playing silent hill) and is not just guessing about the details of jackson and such

wc: 2.2k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

You've experienced your fair share of unthinkable, inexplicable things since the outbreak began. Out of necessity, you've become familiar with the cordyceps — what it looks like, how it spreads, what the cure is (a bullet to the head). Whatever you just inhaled is not the cordyceps virus, but you feel zero relief in knowing that. You have no idea what this is and what it's going to do to you.

Joel calls out to you from above.

"Don't come down here," you yell back. "I think something's wrong."

It's the best way you can explain it.

"Then get your ass up here!" He's pissed, he's scared.

You shouldn't have been so reckless. You were stupid to think you'd find anything good in that abandoned bunker. If there was once something worth your excursion, it's long gone. Like everywhere else, it's been looted.

When Joel reaches out to help you pull yourself above ground, you can't help but notice how big his hands are, how strong he is, the way his arms flex when he pulls you up to relative safety.

"What happened down there?"

"I don't know, but I feel… weird. Something's not right with me."

"You didn't get bit did you?"

"No, it's not that. Definitely not. It's something different. When I went down there, it was like I set off some sort of alarm system, except it didn't make any noise, it just sprayed out some sort of blue smoke."

"And you inhaled it?"

"I didn't mean to."

The route back is short, but it's torture – your whole body feels like its been set on fire, and you want to keel over in pain.

"Do you need me to carry you?" Joel asks.

"No, I'm fine." You're not fine. You're out of breath, dizzy, aching for something.

Joel ignores your lies and picks you up. The minute he touches you, you know exactly what your body wants — him. You whimper at his touch — his hands aren't anywhere they shouldn't be, but your whole body feels sensitive.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, not really… I don't know."

"Why are you whining then? Either you're hurt or you're on the edge of a fuckin' orgasm."

He laughs, but you don't.

"…Both," you admit.

He looks at his hands, making sure he's not touching you inappropriately.

"I don't understand. I'm not touching you down there, and you're not touching yourself. You got vibrating panties or somethin'?"

"I wish."

He stops. Then, in a whisper despite the fact that you're alone, asks, "Do you think it's whatever you inhaled?"

"Yeah."

"Let's hurry down to the infirmary then."

"No. There's nothing they can do for me."

"Don't say that. I'm sure it's nothin' and they'll be able to fix you up just fine."

"No, they can't. I know what I need. I can feel it."

Or at least, you hope it's what you need. You'd rather die than walk into a clinic and tell the nurse that you're so horny you think you're about to, well, die. You've made your bed and you're ready to lie in it — so long as Joel is there too.

He changes course slightly, and walks towards his house. Not much needs to be said. The look of sheer desperation in your eyes is enough. Has he dreamt about fucking you before? Maybe, but that's not why he agrees to do it. Above all else, Joel cares about you.

You don't make it to his bedroom, only to the living room couch. The curtains are drawn and Joel lives alone, so it makes little difference (minus the back pain that you'll inevitably endure from a couch rendezvous).

It's not your first time having sex, and you know it's not Joel's either, but it's the first time you've ever done this together. See, in your nighttime fantasies, he comes to you — on you, in you, for you — quite often, but in the real world, you're just close friends. The rumors that circulate are (unfortunately) not true: you're not fucking Joel. Or, you weren't. Now, you are. Now, you're tearing off your clothes because holy fuck it's hotter than it should be in April. You're feeling feverish as you help Joel strip (while he takes a minute to be awestruck by your bare body).

You're fiddling helplessly with his belt buckle like it's a brand new contraption to your hazy eyes.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get you ready first? Could go down on you…"

If someone put a gun to your head and asked you if you'd ever turn down Joel Miller offering to go down on you, you'd be dead. But despite how much you crave his mouth on your skin, you swear this thing might kill you if you wait any longer.

"I need you," is all you can muster.

"Lemme see if I can find a—"

He stands up, presumably to get a condom, but you grab him by the wrist.

"I need you," you say with more force this time.

It takes a mere glimpse of his cock — hard, throbbing in anticipation — to know that he needs you too.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he says when his hand reaches your glistening slit.

You let out a pathetic whimper. You're no longer in control. Whatever this toxin is, it's taken over. It needs Joel, you need Joel, it needs you to need Joel (more than you did already).

"I know, baby, I know," he soothes you as he steadies himself above you.

He slides into you with ease, buries himself to the hilt and then stops. He looks up to the ceiling, like he's about to speak to God, but all that leaves his mouth is a single word, "fuck", it comes out harsh, through gritted teeth, yet ultimately, it's his surrender.

His surrender to your needs, to your cunt that grips him like a vise and soaks him like a leaky faucet. Both of his hands hold your hips steady so he can pound into you as you beg for him to go harder, and he swears he hasn't fucked anyone like this in the last 20 years. Honestly, he's shocked his knees can handle it. He ought to have you ride him if you're so intent on controlling the pace, but then again, he doesn't trust your impulses.

Not only is he going to embarrass himself if he cums quickly, but he'll also leave you hanging. One hand moves to cover your mouth because he can't have you screaming. It takes everything in him to stifle you when you're moaning his name.

It's something between a warning and an apology. "I'm sorry, baby—I'm gonna cum." Naturally, he attempts to pull out since he's not wearing a condom, but you lock your legs around his hips and rip his hand from your mouth so you can tell him the three most important words right now, "Don't. Pull. Out."

"I don't wanna get you pregnant—"

"I want you to."

It all makes sense. "Is that what it wants?" His curiosity is piqued and the distraction of solving this puzzle keeps his orgasm at bay. "It wants me to… breed you? It's making you want me to get you pregnant?"

"Yes," you say a bit too enthusiastically. "Joel, please, I need you to."

"Need me to what?" He knows exactly what, and you can see that in the slight upward curve of his lips.

You groan in frustration — would he really be so cruel as to make you beg in a moment of crisis? Maybe.

"I need to hear you say it."

Joel could easily fill you to the brim right now, he needs to hear you beg because he'll need the memory later when he's alone, when he thinks about you. If you make it out of this situation, that is. But, fuck, if you're right, and all he really has to do is get you pregnant, there shouldn't be any problem.

"I need you to put a baby in me," you say, and while your body is still running wild in its starvation, embarrassment flashes across your face.

When Joel agrees, your orgasm overtakes you -- simply the thought is enough to make you gush all over his furniture. You thought you'd never reach your peak and be forced to teeter on the edge for the rest of your life. You hold him as close as you possibly can, forcing him deeper inside you with your legs around his hips and your arms around his back, digging your nails into his skin. He returns the sting with a bite to your neck, muffling a groan that threatens to escape him.

You're writhing against the pleasure, the overstimulation and the need for more mixing together, and Joel, melting in your arms, soothes you as best he can. His words are filthy and sweet all at once.

"It's okay, baby. I'm gonna put a baby in you, gonna get you knocked up. Don't gotta worry 'bout a thing."

When his grunts turn breathy, barely short of whimpers, you realize that he's turned on by this too. It's a blessing and a curse — his pride grapples with his arousal, fighting to keep his orgasm at bay but it's in vain. He cums inside you, and it feels like he's the one dying, and ascending to heaven (a place he never believed he'd step foot in).

You try to keep him inside you, but he insists that he has to pull out at some point.

Joel's about to put his pants on when the door swings open. At first you're afraid it's Ellie, and even though she's an adult, she's practically Joel's daughter – she's the last person who would want to see this. Who else has a key to Joel's house? you think. He's not giving them out to just anyone, even you don't have one (and you could be carrying his child).

Tommy, you realize, just as his voice echoes through the hall, calling for Joel.

"Hold on," Joel yells back, much louder than he needs to, considering the fact that there's only one wall between your naked body and an unsuspecting visitor.

Footsteps approach, and Joel gets the word "wait" halfway out of his mouth before Tommy enters the room. You all share a moment of silence before he apologizes, and excuses himself.

As he's walking towards the door, you try to pull Joel back in, telling him how badly you need him.

But he has another idea. Unconventional at best, but it's not like you're in an everyday situation anyway.

"Tommy," he says, stopping him before he leaves. "Will you do me — us — a huge favor?"

"Yeah, I won't tell anyone. Don't worry about it," he says, preemptively.

"No, no. A different favor." He peeks his head into the living room to see your miserable, desperate state.

"What's going on?"

Joel explains everything as best he can in as little time as possible. You admit, with less shame than you would otherwise, that you need someone to fuck you, and if Joel has to wait a bit to recover, it's a good thing he has a brother.

"You're sure about this?" Tommy asks.

Once you swear on your life that you are absolutely positive about this, he gives in, allows himself to indulge because ultimately, Tommy wants this too. Maybe their shared DNA influences their shared kinks, or maybe you're an attractive woman, splayed out on the couch naked and begging to be fucked.

Tommy makes quick work of his clothes, discarding them on the floor — he can sense your eagerness to have him inside you, almost as intense as his own desire.

It's not like you needed any lubricant anyway, but Joel left you even slicker than before, so Tommy slides inside you with greater ease despite being nearly as big as his brother. He's quick to lift your legs to gain greater leverage so he can up the pace of his thrusts.

You moans, despite how loud they are, do not cover up the wet sounds of Tommy fucking you.

"Are you sure you want me to cum inside you?"

"Yes, please, need you to get me pregnant," you say, throwing him for a loop. Whoops, you must've forgotten to mention that part.

He looks at you, then at Joel, in disbelief, assuming this is some sort of trick, a test, a gift — it doesn't really matter because he's too far gone to hold back.

"Fuck, I'll knock you up if that's what you really want, baby."

All you can say is "please".

"Wonder whose baby it'll be," he says, steady thrusts gaining momentum.

If he's toying with you, it's working, strange as it might be, the concept is a turn-on. It's Schrodinger's baby. You cannot be sure whose baby you're carrying -- if there is one at all -- so you can imagine it as both Joel's and Tommy's at once.

You look at Tommy, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, mind blanking. Surely, he's not having a scientific breakthrough, but maybe a transcendental experience.

Then, you look at Joel, who holds the awe of a full auditorium in his eyes, but there will be no standing ovation for your performance because he's using all of his strength to hold himself back from rushing the metaphorical stage, and one hand is busy palming his aching cock through his jeans to subdue that urge.

Tommy takes your chin, and with a sudden sternness, says, "Look at me when I cum inside you. Not him. He's not fucking you."

But when your eyes meet his, he's not the only one approaching his peak – you are going over the edge with him. You swear you might've blacked out because Tommy is already pulling out of you when you fully regain consciousness.

Once you get your bearings straight you realize something: you feel a lot better.

[warping-realities]

Parental Pressure 

Eddie watched the personal trainer's video for the thousandth time as he was getting closer to the little gym for his first class. He had snuck out of his house super early and quietly because he knew Nick, his old man, wouldn’t approve of his son wasting time on this kinda stuff. He became a single father really young, back in high school, and now, at 35, he did everything he could to make sure his kid didn’t follow the same path. Becoming a doctor was Nicholas Rousseau’s biggest dream, but early fatherhood messed up his chance to hit the books at college. Not that he blamed Eddie for it; on the contrary, they usually had a solid relationship, except when Eddie strayed from the plans his dad laid out for his future. If Nick couldn’t get into med school, Eddie sure as hell would, whether he liked it or not. And now, with less than a month before college kicked off, Eddie was having doubts about the path laid out for him. So, in a rebellious move, after getting an invite to check out Rocco “Rocky” Mancini's gym, an Italian bodybuilder who moved to the States, now retired and not exactly a big name in the game, who a few years back started hustling as a personal trainer and, according to the promo video on Eddie's Instagram, was looking for young men to boost his portfolio. It looked like that gig wasn’t going great either. The first person to sign up would get a month of free daily training. Perfect for Eddie; after all, a month of training with an expert before college would make things way easier when he had to hit the gym away from his overprotective dad’s watchful eye. Surprisingly he was the first one to sign up! And so, the young  skinny man, with light brown hair found himself stepping into the dimly lit gym at 6 AM.

As he stood frozen at the door, anxiety washing over him, a monstrous figure approached, strutting with swagger, muscles bulging looking like they might burst from the thin layer of skin wrapping them. With a fuller beard and looking at least five years older than in the video Eddie had seen over and over, the guy oozed confidence and a certain arrogance. But those weren’t the only things he was giving off, as it became clear to Eddie when the dude came up to him with a sweaty hand extended to shake, a distinct animal musk dominating his senses.

“You must be Eddie! Nice to meet ya, kid; I’m Rocco, but you can call me Rocky—everyone does. Welcome to my little temple. So, you ever trained before?”

“Ahn, no... I wanted to, but my dad... no, I’ve never trained.”

“Feeling a little bit of Daddy Issues here? Just kidding, son! Where’s your workout gear?”

“I thought, since it’s the first day... I... didn’t bring any...”

“Damn, son, you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve never trained; you don’t have a clue! But don’t sweat it, we’ll fix that! You can wear the shirt; I’ll get you some shorts.”

“I... don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Son, you came here to train, and train is what you’re gonna do. I don’t know what your pops taught you but it looks like you got a lot to learn from me. First thing, you gotta be more assertive—don’t be scared to say what you think or do what you like.”

Hearing that, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the fear and anxiety that had been eating at him for weeks seemed to fade away. He wanted to be there, and nobody was gonna take that away from him, not even his old man.

After hitting the locker room and putting on the shorts Rocco lent him, which were way too big in the legs but surprisingly just right in the waist, Eddie went back to the main room where the personal trainer was waiting for him.

“We gotta fill those shorts, son!”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Mancini.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit but none of this Mr. Mancini nonsense; you either call me Rocky or coach.”

“Yes, sir, coach!”

“That’s right! Now, back to our chat, you said you’ve been training for a while, but how long is a while, son?”

That info was totally wrong; he’d never trained, right? But why did he have fuzzy memories of sneaking out to hit the school gym before class during his senior year? If he hadn’t trained, where did those small but tight muscles come from?

“I’ve been training for almost a year, coach, but I don’t think I’ve seen much result.”

“Two more things to teach you, son: first, we’re never happy with the size we are, and second, even so, you’re never gonna downplay your achievements; you’ve done something that most people can’t even pull off. Be proud of that.”

“I... I’m proud, yeah!” he replied, realizing the coach was speaking the truth. He had a lot of pride in what he accomplished, even though he knew he was still far from where he wanted to be.

“Awesome! Now you’re talking like a real champ. But enough chit-chat, let’s see what you’re made of.” Rocco said before putting Eddie through the most grueling workout he’d ever experienced. His self-taught training hadn’t prepared him for this level of exhaustion. After half an hour of intense agony, they took a break, and Eddie tried to recover before what he knew would be another half hour of torture as Rocco praised him.

“Damn, son, all that fuss you had with your pops to come train with me in your junior year was worth it. You’re huge; another minute and that shirt ain’t gonna hold!”

Still exhausted from the workout, Eddie took a moment to wrap his head around what the trainer had said. A fight with his dad...? And training here for at least three years...? No... it didn’t make sense... but then he saw his own reflection in the gym mirror, and he was... fucking swole! And that... that wasn’t just possible; it was thanks to the time he’d spent caring for his body all this while, even with his dad breathing down his neck.

“Thanks, Coach, but I’m still not anywhere near where I wanna be!”

“Well, if you get closer, this shirt definitely isn’t gonna hold. I’ll grab you one of mine, or you can train shirtless until the other clients show up, son. In the meantime, figure out how to get that thing off, but I doubt it’s coming off without tearing. Maybe you should film a video for your social media; I bet your followers will go wild!”

“Haha, I don’t think that they will care, and I feel kinda uncomfortable putting myself out there. So I’ll take the shirt.” Eddie replied as the coach returned with an enormous shirt in hand and offered it to him.

“Son, there’s no reason to be shy about showing off; you sculpted that body for a reason. Don’t tell me that’s another one of your dad’s ideas? You never cared much about what he thinks, and I’ve known you since you were a little brat, fourteen years old, showing up on opening day to get an autograph!”

Once again, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the cordial relationship he had with his overly protective dad was turning into a conflictual one, with both of them constantly arguing about the expectations they had for Eddie’s future, which drove him to practically live at Rocco’s gym, where he helped with maintenance or took care of the place to keep training without having to pay.

“You’re right, as always, Rocky; it’s just that, I dunno... I think this crowd that needs to post everything they do is kinda empty and vain.”

“Son if you don’t show off your gains, you won’t grow your followers, and so what if it seems kinda empty? What matters is being seen. And nobody builds a body like yours without a bit of vanity. I’ll let you keep training; I’ve got a client in twenty minutes. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

“Rocky, I can train better than a lot of pro bodybuilders, man! You know that!”

“Son there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance! You can strut around all you want with your followers, but don’t come at me with that!” Rocky shot back, though he couldn’t hide a smile of approval.

As the trainer moved away to organize things for his client, Eddie focused on finishing his remaining exercises. Kicking off his sneakers and heading to the squat rack barefoot, he stacked plate after plate until he formed a sizable pile that would surprise anyone. But the truth was, despite the insane weight, it was relatively easy for Eddie. Next, he hit the leg press and finished with deadlifts using a bar that weighed more than a baby rhino. When he sat down to do his last exercise of the day, calves, a distinct funk emanated from his armpits, but mainly from his giant size 14 bare feet. Looking at himself and feeling pumped, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to shoot a TikTok video. He was in the middle of recording when Rocky interrupted him.

“Damn, kid, you reek! No offense, we all have a little man funk; I know how it is, but clients are gonna start showing up, so take a shower and let’s get to work.”

“Damn, coach, sometimes you’re worse than my dad.” The kid replied, stopping the recording.

“I am your father, boy!” The older man shot back with a sinister grin and a predatory look at the younger man before continuing. “And if you really wanna please your fans, be a show-off; don’t hide your assets, son; show off that chest and those abs, but hurry up, ‘cause this place is gonna be packed soon. We’re not the biggest gym in town by luck, Wardo. This young stud pose might please your fans, but the morning ladies prefer when you play the part of the innocent bambino.”

This time, the wave of strangeness hit Eddie so hard that he felt dizzy and nauseous, exacerbated by the potent funk he was putting off. And for the first time since he stepped foot in that gym, he fully realized what was going down as he automatically took off his shirt and walked toward one of the gym mirrors, a gym which seemed to expand with every step he took, turning from a small studio into a gigantic complex. As his skin took on an olive tone and his dark brown hair curled into perfect black curls, while his nose turned aquiline like a Roman emperor from antiquity, Eddie struggled within his own mind while Edoardo Mancini took control. If someone could hear the debate between the two, it would sound something like:

“Dude, I am... no, we are what you’ve always wanted to be! Pops gave you this chance; why not embrace it?”

“’Cause I... I’m going to med school...”

“You never wanted that; we never wanted that; that was Nicholas’s thing, not ours. This is our chance to be whoever we wanna be!”

“No... we are what Rocco made us; we’re just trading one controlling dad for another!”

“Not even close, dude! We chose this path; he didn’t pressure us! We followed him out of admiration, and that boosted both his success and ours; we’re legends in the fitness world!”

“Rocco was a mediocre pro... he’s using us for leverage!”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re getting something out of it too! And how is that different from Nicholas pressuring you?”

“I... I... don’t know...”

“Dude, if you didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. Chill and enjoy; besides, Pops already got what he wanted from us. He’s not gonna pressure us to follow in his footsteps. We can be whatever we want: bodybuilders like him, or fitness models, or even kickstart an acting career; and I’m not even talking about porn, even though this big guy between our legs would be a hit. Just accept it.” Wardo said, stroking the giant cock in his mind and in real life.

“I... I... damn... this feels so... fucking... good!”

“Wardo! Wrap it up, kid, and stop playing with that thing; we got a new client coming.” Rocco scolded his son.

“Damn, Pops, another ruined video!”

“You weren’t gonna post that, kid; you wanna get banned from social media?”

“I was just messing around...”

“Kid... you’ve got five minutes to take a shower and get your ass to the front desk.”

“Okay, Dad! Did you hear that, folks? The great Rocco Mancini has spoken, and the good son obeys! I’ll be back with updates soon.” The young man said before stopping the recording.

“I’ll edit it so nothing racy gets out; don’t worry, Dad!”

“Five minutes and counting!” Rocco replied with fake irritation, but in reality, he was puffed up with pride for his son as he headed for the reception, spotting a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and an outfit that screamed he’d never set foot in a gym in his life.

“Good morning, sir; welcome to Rocky's Gym; I’m Rocky Mancini, the owner and head coach. Are you looking for something?”

“Good morning, I’m Nick Rousseau, and I’m actually looking for my son; his phone tracker showed he was here just a few minutes ago before it suddenly stopped working.”

“Tracker? Isn’t that a bit much? Anyway, how old is he and what’s he like? We haven’t had anyone too young around here today, except for my own kid, but if I can help you out…”

“I... I don’t know...”

“You don’t know? What kinda dad doesn’t know how to describe his own kid?”

“I... I...” Nicholas replied, his voice filled with genuine desperation, which made Rocco feel a bit of sympathy, but not enough to stop him from making the next call.

“Hey, Wardo... Wardo!!! Damn kid never listens! Edoardo Mancini!!!!” Rocky yelled while watching Nicholas slightly tremble at the sound of that name.

“What’s up, Pops? I’ll get ready in a sec.” The handsome young man replied as he prepared to flex the powerful muscles that no kid his age could get without maximum dedication, watched by his dad and the other boy.

“Not that, you insubordinate ragazzo! This guy’s looking for his son; has anyone younger shown up today?”

“Nope!” He replied, giving Nicholas a quick glance over the shades he was wearing just for style before turning around and finally heading to the locker room.

“Sorry about that, teenage boys; you know how they are.” Rocco said, smiling at the other man.

“I... know?”

“Didn’t you come looking for your son?”

“Son?? Son... no... I don’t have kids... do I?” Nicholas replied, looking both confused and desperate.

“Are you feeling alright? I’m no doc, but I can try to help.”

“Doc... doctor? No... no need... I’m a doctor.” Nicholas replied with more confidence.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Doctors are always good clients; they know how to take care of themselves.”

“Client?”

“You didn’t come here to train? We’re in a gym, after all.”

“Of course... I came... to train. You come highly recommended.”

“Modesty aside, it’s because I’m the best. I normally don’t take new clients, but we could use a doctor to evaluate our clients, so we could do a trade; you wouldn’t happen to be a sports doc, would you?”

“No, I…”

“Awesome! Just what I needed! But I can tell you’re already in shape!” Rocco said, grinning. “Let me show you the gym. Normally, this would be Wardo’s job, but the kid’s been so focused on his influencer career that he’s slacking here... between us, I’d rather he be a bodybuilder like me, but I think a dad should respect his kid’s wishes; don’t you think?” Rocco asked, and without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Don’t you wanna have kids? Are you single or married? Dude, if you’re single, I gotta introduce you to my sister; no disrespect to her, ‘cause my mama raised me right, but between us, she’s a total smoke show...” And so he went on while Nicholas followed, not realizing that with every word spoken, his reality was adjusting to the other man’s desires.

Minutes later, Rocco stepped into the locker room bathroom and watched his son recording another video, already showered but still unable to shake off the musk that surrounded him, maybe because he was still wearing the same shorts from his workout. He admired his boy, feeling proud knowing all this was his hard work paying off.

When the young man finished recording, he turned to him.

“Wardo, finish getting dressed and come out here for a minute; I got a surprise for you.”

….

“Hey guys, Wardo Mancini here, and I’ve got some awesome news! You’re probably tired of seeing my pops in my videos, but today, besides him, I wanna introduce you to someone else.” He said, repositioning the camera in the packed gym.

“This handsome fella next to my dad is my doctor, Nic Russo, and on top of that, he’s my uncle, married to my dad’s sister. And now for the biggest news: he’s about to be a dad, and he asked me to be the godfather of his boy! Just think about the genetics of that kid with a dad like this and an uncle like my pops. My uncle says the kid can be whatever he wants, but we all know the iron bug is in our blood, and as far as his godfather is concerned, Rocky Russo is gonna be a champion bodybuilder!”

[serendipitous-girl]

𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒐𝒍𝒅?

⊱✿⊰ summary: the overblot aftermath except yuu has my personality lmao

⊱✿⊰ warnings: book 2 spoilers, lowkey bullying leona (but nice), yuu is reader, fully self indulgent, fluffy tho, like a few refs to reader being small cuz im smaller than even ruggie so yeah. Thats like the only physical depictor i think

⊱✿⊰ notes: i had this dream last night and boom bam i made this. I think its preppy and also its lit ny personality and also leona is like 😍

your eyes slowly fluttered open, the bright fluorescents adding to the dull ache in your head. as your vision adjusted you realized you had quite a few people surrounding you. ace and deuce and jack and grim? what happened...?

"what happened?" you muttered out, sitting up in the...cot? you were in the infirmary but why? the last thing you could remember was playing the special round of spelldrive and grim mentioned something about a special move.

"at the beginning of the second half grim threw the disc at your noggin and knocked you out." ace answered barely concealing his snort, "don't you remember?"

"no i don't remember." you grumbled, narrowing your eyes in a glare. ace gave you an apologetic smile that you weren't sure held any real sorry in it.

"i was trying to aim for victory!" grim exclaimed, pumping his fist up. he smiled widely at you and plopped into your lap. despite your annoyance you curled your arms around him, letting him snuggle into your chest.

"you amateurs need to work on your throwing skill." jack replied with an eyeroll.

deuce quickly interjected with a gentle smile, hoping to ease any tensions that might appear. "i for one am glad you're awake! i was scared the hit did some real damage."

"true, you were asleep so long you even missed the closing ceremonies. they're taking everything down now." ace said, still trying not to laugh. evem through your annoyance you couldn't really blame him. it did sound kind of funny that you got hit by a disc because of grim's terrible throw.

"which dorm won?" you asked suddenly, words falling from your lips hurriedly, "how did savanaclaw do?"

even with leona being so underhanded you still wanted him to get what he wanted. he just wanted to feel like he was good enough, something you could relate to heavily. you hoped none of them could tell the way your face warmed with your rambles. maybe you could blame it on pain meds..if this place even had them.

suddenly that growly rumble of a voice filled your ears, leona saying, "diasomia won, unsurprisingly."

your eyes jumped to where leona was, him and ruggie in cots side by side. leona looked goregous, with his long hair still braided and a few bandages scattered across his dark tanned skin. you really ought to focus instead of fangirling over his looks like a silly school girl.

"there was nothing we could do to stop it." ruggie added with a sigh, looking slightly more healed now, "it didn't help that we took a beating from every other dorm before we got to them."

you winced sympathetically, unsurprised the other dorms had gotten their revenge out during the game. even still you felt bad, but perhaps that was your annoyingly empathetic heart talking.

"housewarden! ruggie!" jack exclaimed, turning his body around to see the others in their cots. you slowly sat up, ignoring your dizziness in favor of getting the chance of getting closer to leona. you are surely going insane, why were you wanting to comfort leona after everything he did? why were you wishing to kiss his hurt away in front of your friends no less.

leona tsked, his arms crossed over his hardened chest as he said, "being stuck in the infirmary for anything other than a mid-day nap is about as lame as it gets."

his eyes wandered over to you and you felt your body warm, self conscious about the way you look. you could feel that your hair was a bit tangled and your clothes were slightly frumpled, making you wish leona would suddenly forget you existed. did he think you look bad? you looked at your hands, trying to cease your racing heart.

"and what's worse? none of the diasomia kids ended up here." ruggie pouted, his ears flattening aganist the top of his head. you felt your lips quirk in amusement, finding the small boy's annoyance kinda cute. he reminded you of your friends from your world (though that thought suddenly made your heart feel heavy.)

ace nodded and started talking about the head of the diasomia dorm, apparently being a major powerhouse. you didn't doubt it, seeing as half the guys at this school were insanely large or annoyingly good at magic. they still scared you, seeing as you were neither of those things.

"with that attitude you're never going to beat them." jack said with his fist clenched, all good old determination, "i didn't beat them but i will next year! i'll do anything it takes."

"does 'anything' include your capacity for evil?" leona asked with a slightly malicious grin. you felt mildly deranged for wanting to kiss it off of his face.

"have you learned nothing?" you asked, fighting the urge to get closer. once his grin widened, deliciously evil glint in those pretty brown eyes you felt your resolve wavering.

so you did get a bit closer, sitting on the chair beside his cot. he didn't seem displeased with your proximity as he said, "i didn't realize this was an after school special."

you couldn't help the laugh that bubbled past your lips, eyes lighting up with amusement. he was insufferably wonderful. "i didn't realize you knew so much about those after-school specials."

ruggie interrupted with his infamous laugh, making you feel suddenly aware of the way you were sort of flirting with leona. you backed up and looked shyly away, grateful your friends didn't seem to notice the way you had been half tempted to settle your and leona's debate with kisses.

"there's the leona i know!" ruggie said, making jack roll his eyes. jack reminded you of captain america if he was part of the omegaverse, but the boy's brain might explode if you tried explaining that to him..

"i can already tell this won't end well." jack muttered with a slight shake of his head. you felt your lips curve into a grin at the same time as leona. even though you most definitely didn't want leona try to cheat his way to the top you also liked his...ambition. you were far gone.

deuce, ace, and grim chimed in talking about how they wanted to play in the tournament for real next year. a small part of yourself wondered if you'd still be around by next year or if crowley would have found a way home for you by then. then you quietly wondered whether you would return to your old life or stay in your new one.

suddenly a little boy with red hair bounced into the room, jumping onto leona without a care in the world. your eyes widened, surprised by the freaking kindergartener entering the infirmary. he was adorable and sort of reminded you of your younger cousins, who were all around his age.

"unca! there you are! i finally found you!" the child giggled, hugging up close to leona. leona looked shocked for a moment before his face relaxed to his usual pissed off look and he hugged the kid back.

"unca leona...?" jack mumbled, matching your confusion. all the boys seemed equally confused that this tiny person was calling leona uncle and cuddling up to him without getting beat into a pulp.

"this is cheka, my brother's son...my nephew." leona explained boredly, ruffing the boy's hair. your eyes widened, reeling at the sudden revelation.

"so this is the next in line for the throne." ruggie said in a low tone, amusement filling his expression. you were still shocked this adorable little baby was leona's nephew.

"unca! i saw you play, you were sooo cool!" cheka giggled, his hands tapping against leona's shoulder in a badly attempt at rhythm, "teach me how to play pleaseeeeee!"

"fine, fine just stop screaming in my ear." leona grumbled, plucking cheka off his body and putting him down. which made cheka notice everybody around, particularly you.

the tiny redhead ran to you, jumping onto your lap. he was very similar to your cuddly baby brother so it was easy to just wrap your arms around cheka and let him hug you. you giggled, amused by leona's nephew.

leona was about to protest, and you could have sworn you saw a light dusting of pink across his cheeks. it gave you the smallest glimmer of pride, close enough to the third year that you saw the tiniest details.

"so the source of all leona's anguish is..." jack began, struggling to understand what was happening. everybody was to be quite frank.

"this innocent angel." you finished for him, ruffling cheka's hair. cheka giggled and squirmed in your arms, eyes wide and happy as he looked at you.

"shuddap, all of you." leona grumbled, "stop gawking."

you grinned and couldn't help the way you decided to sit on his cot beside him. you were small enough that you could fit on the bed at his side. cheka seemed happy by this decision because he could now crawl freely between you both.

despite leona's annoyance, he wrapped his arms around your waist to prevent you from falling off the cot. ruggie raised his eyebrows in silent shock, probably surprised to see his big scary upperclassmen cuddle with the random girl who just appeared at the school.

cheka rambled incessantly, asking questions and talking to leona. cheka seemed to idolize leona, making you wonder if he realized that. does leona know how much cheka loves him?

ruggie was laughing like a maniac at the new side of leona they had all discovered, probably wanting to use this as blackmail. you did think it was funny, but it was also freaking adorable seeing leona so soft. leona nuzzled his face into your shoulder, glaring at the first and second years all laughing their heads off.

"are these your friends?" cheka asked, turning around to look at them all. then he looked back at you, "is she your girlfriend?"

"oh for sure. we're besties with leona." ace grinned, even happier when cheka asked about your relationship with leona. you felt your cheeks warm, lips opening to deny the assumption.

but leona didn't give you a chance as he grumbled, "i won't forget about this."

though the boys were still amused they decided to leave, laughing and talking about "unca leona". the older boy glowered, tightening his hold on your body. hell even ruggie left, feelinf well enough to leave the infirmary for a moment.

"you gonna marry her?" cheka asked, bouncing on leona's stomach. leona groaned and pulled the kid off of him, so he wasn't treating the third year like a jungle gym. cheka glanced at you and added, "what's your name?"

"my name is [name] but everybody calls me yuu." you said, ignoring his first question and especially ignoring the way your heart throb at the idea. it was silly, you were a teen and thinking about marrying leona.

leona also ignored the first question just mumbling out a quiet, "furball always trying to start stuff..."

suddenly cheka jumped up, hearing the voices of his attendants. the little redhead ran away as quickly as he came, probably going to cause more chaos. he really was lucky he was so adorable...and the fact he was a prince.

being alone with leona made you acutely aware of the way he was cuddling you. his arms wrapped around your waist and his tail curling around your shin. he was warm, his firm body pressed aganist your back in such a comforting way.

"i didn't say this earlier," he began, his low timbre full of the beginnings of sleepiness, "but im sorry for hurting you when i overblotted. i didn't mean for you to get involved."

you blinked with surprise, your heart stalling as a lump in your throat. maybe he really did feel remorse for what he did, the thought sending a flutter of excitement through your tummy.

slowly you turned so your front was against his, faces inches away. you were both laying down on the small cot, his strong arms keeping you steady and grounded.

with that delightful dizziness in your head, you leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. he froze, soft gasp of surprise falling from him. his arms tightened around you, squeezing the skin on your waist.

"its okay, leona. i'm not mad." you replied softly, gifting him your forgiveness like you were sent straight from god. not that you knew if he even had a god in his world. perhaps even without a god, you wondered if he knew how to worship one. if he might worship you like you were one.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[tan1shere]

Scare You

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: not much to say except enjoy ! I hope this is good :) (it's kinda bad I'm sorry ☹) @omwtfybbbbb

Warnings: none really ! She comforts you

Masterlist

You didn't want to be here. But yet you were forced by your friends. Claiming, "You never got out of your house." - "You're a scardy cat Y/n." - "Loosen up, Y/n." So ofcourse you wanted to prove that wrong. But you were failing. Terribly. So terribly whenever a scare actor would come anywhere near you, you'd hang onto your friends arm for dear life. Was it stupid? Maybe, but you couldn't help the fact you got scared easily. Maybe it was down to childhood trauma so when stuff like this happens it triggers you. It couldn't get worse, surely.

Yup. It does.

You were walking around and for a good amount of time, you thought you were alright. No one had come up to you. Which is why this hurt really bad. One of them, a girl. Comes up behind you grabbing your shoulders briefly and making a loud growl. Your body sinks to the floor curling up into itself as you scream. Billie had faced many people with bad reactions. But not this bad. Not one she'd truly feel sorry for. Your friends tug you up. "Come on, it's fine." But it truly wasn't, you look back at the actor. Tears brimming your eyes slightly.

Her mood changes and her heart aches. She loved her job but not at that price. Sure she loved scaring people but not to the point of tears. This hurt her deeply, and all she wanted was to comfort you. But you were sadly out of sight.

Your friends continue to drag you along until one of them realizes your tears. "Ok, guys maybe we should call it quits for tonight." One of them furrows her brows. "Oh come on, Y/n needs to toughen up a bit." Their voices become distant as they argue. You couldn't take it, standing up and walking off. "Some friends." You mutter, walking along when all of a sudden you feel a hand on your shoulder again. You screech but they shh you calmingly. You turn to face them warily. "Hey its ok. It's just me from earlier." The woman says, taking off her mask. She was gorgeous.

"Oh.." you shy away. "I was going to say it wasn't my intention to scare you but- that's literally my job. I mean-" She sighs. "I just didn't mean to scare you to the point of literal tears." You blink at her. "Are you ok?" Your shoulders just shrug. "I'm so incredibly sorry-" But your tears come again. "I- I didn't even want to come here but my so called friends made me, making me feel like I was pathetic and I just wanted to prove them wrong but I didn't because I truly am pathetic, getting scared over people pretending all because of what happened when i was younger." You sob.

All the sentences were shakily said. She softens her look, going to carefully bring you into a hug. You tightly wrap your arms around her, needing that comfort right now. "They are certainly not friends. Nowhere near that title." Her hands smooth out your hair softly. Your breathing coming back to normal. "Shhh." She gently says. Your eyes close. "You're not pathetic, I promise you angel. I'm scared of alot of things too." You pull away to look at her. "Really? But it can't be anything like this? And I doubt it's silly like mine." "Water."

You stare at her for a second. "Water?" She nods. It honestly made you feel better. "Not so silly now huh?" You give her a faint smile. "You have a beautiful smile, keep it on more." Your cheeks heat up at the compliment. "Thank you for coming back to see me." She smiles, nodding. "It hurt when I saw you were crying I had to make sure you were ok." It was sweet to you. The reassuring nature of this girl was a huge comfort.

"Hey, what do you say we give those 'friends' a run for their money. Literally." She says.

"Great idea."

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I don't know anything about Batman comics but I am very curious, who is this Jean Paul Valley fellow?

(I could google it but I feel like your answer is going to be a lot more enlightening)

okay so imagine you're a grad student just trying to get your degree in computer science. your mom is dead, you've never been close to your dad. you've made the best of it. one night your dad shows up on your doorstep in weird armor, terribly injured, and he dies in your arms telling you that you have to take up his mantle now. what the fuck does that mean? what mantle? oh, okay, turns out he was a warrior for a secret religious order. okay, it turns out all the men in your family have been for generations. alrighty, this is accomplished via childhood programming that creates a secondary warrior personality that lives in your head and comes out when you need to hurt people. maybe even kill them. you don't really want to do that but it also seems like you don't have a choice. sometimes you just kill people with a sword now, I guess. but Batman's here, Batman is going to help. he promised. he takes you under his wing, says he'll teach you how to manage this. you can't stop fighting but you can fight for good, maybe. Batman will show you how. except things are going wrong in the city, and Batman is running himself ragged trying to fix it. he's busy, too busy for you. Robin is trying to help you as best he can, but Robin's just a boy. and things are getting worse, Batman is fading. but you're also getting worse, there are voices in your head. and then Batman nearly dies. he certainly won't be able to walk again, not any time soon. so you're Batman now, I guess. you have barely even know how to be yourself anymore and now you also have to be Batman, and the man who was Batman has disappeared. out of the country to solve another mystery, left the city to you. you don't know what to do. you don't know what to do and people are dying and this city is hell on earth and why? why did he let it get this bad? what the fuck was the old Batman doing? you have to be a better Batman. you have to do whatever it takes to fix this place. maybe the old Batman wasn't hitting hard enough. maybe his enemies should have been more scared of him. maybe he shouldn't have let them get away in the first place. you're so alone. Robin is gone. Batman is gone. the only advice is coming from the voices in your head. you help people, sometimes, but you also feel increasingly disconnected from them. you're not really yourself anymore, are you? you're the voices in your head, your programming. you're Batman. you barely sleep and when you do it's on the floor of a cave, in your armor. and you keep this up until the old Batman comes back. he's walking again; it's a long story. and he wants his name back. he brought the other sidekicks and all three of them hate you, and when they come for you they don't stop until you're stripped of the armor, the mantle, and the name. they kick you out of the cave. you spend months living on the streets of this awful city you couldn't fix, hallucinating and trying to figure out who you are. they leave you like this until Batman comes to find you. you still work for him. he has a job for you. he doesn't like you, isn't even sure he trusts you, but he has a job that needs doing and you're a warm body. you're grateful. what else do you have?

that's Jean Paul Valley.

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Breaking up with Steve Rogers is harder than it seems.

prompts. | Steve Rogers + no AU + “Don’t be a brat.” + Manhandling, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!Steve Rogers x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, manhandling, roughness, mean!steve?, angry!steve, friends-with-benefits/sex-only relationship, pet names, attempt at breaking up, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

Captain America’s hand squeezes your arm tightly as he drags you out of the elevator and to one of the spare sleeping quarters. You let him do as he likes, knowing you have no authority compared to the Star Spangled Man. 

“Captain Rogers–” you begin, but he grumbles. “Sir, if you’d just stop and listen for a second–” you insist, trying again. “Shut up,” he spits out, throwing you onto the cot. 

You land with an ‘oomph,’ forgetting for a second just how much stronger Steve is than the regular person. “You know, I thought you’d be happy with what I did,” he begins, shutting the door behind him. The small room is dark, but you can still see him pretty well.

He leans over you, eyes flicking as he runs them up and down your body. You gulp thickly, nervous under his stare.

“I am, Steve. I promise,” you breathe out, forgoing the professional farce you’re forced to put up in public. But behind closed doors, he’s your Steve—the one you’ve been having a strictly sex-only relationship for the last few months. “Really? It doesn’t feel that way.”

You sigh in annoyance. Steve is crazy about communication despite this not being a traditional relationship. You’ve explained it to him time and time again, and although he says he understands, he never listens.

“I swear,” you tell him, sitting up to level your gaze with Steve. You roll your eyes at his anger.

He’s referring to how he used his rank to get a few weeks off for vacation, where he promises he’ll take you to whatever foreign country you’d like. The only issue is that you don’t have the same clearance as Steve, so you’re stuck with the same schedule.

Except now, he has all the time in the world to hound you as you try to work. 

“Don’t be a brat,” Steve hisses, grabbing you by your arms once again as he lifts you up. “I’m not being a brat, Steve. I just wish you’d have told me sooner,” you sigh.

His jaw clenches in frustration. “Why? You’ve been avoiding me for the last two weeks. I thought it would be a nice surprise, yet here you are, sulking,” he says, seething the entire time.

You wince at how rough Steve’s voice is. You’re sure the only other time he’s like this is on the field, and it hurts your feelings. Undeniably, you’re scared.

“I’m not sulking,” you groan in annoyance. You have to tell Steve what’s been on the tip of your tongue for days on end. It’s the only way he’ll realize why you’ve been distant from him. “I’m thinking of ending things. Between us.”

You sigh out the words and are greeted by complete silence. All you can hear is Steve’s heavy breathing. 

“What?” he finally says, as if your words have just sunken in. “I don’t think we should continue… this, okay? You’ve been great to me, and I really do like you, Steve, but it’s not a good idea to keep it going. You deserve better. So do I.”

Steve squints his eyes as he listens to your monologue. The silence prolongs.

“You know, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I can pull a few strings to get you some time off,” he finally says, breaking the tension in the room.

“...What?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, sweetie. We’ll leave and come back on the same day, too,” he smiles, and you furrow your brows. Steve places a hand on your face and strokes your cheek, the anger in his face cooling. 

“No, Steve–” 

“What? Can’t even be grateful for that either?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. His constantly switching behaviours give you whiplash. “You’re going on that vacation with me, whether you like it or not,” he tells you, pushing you back onto the cot.

“Did you really think you can leave me that easily, sweetie? How cute.” 

[zweiginator]

do u tbink reader and bsf!patrick would ever start hooking up but in like a fwb way? bc imagine….and wildly enough it’s HER who’s like ‘cant get attached’ blah blah blah. like it’s her being the one to make it clear that this doesn’t change anything, she’s completely platonic outside of it (well ok not really), she won’t think of them as dating even tho they practically are.

and it’s so obvious she thinks he’s not taking it seriously. assumes he’s going on dates. tries to not think ab it.

n eventually he just like loses it. points out how "it’s not fucking fair. you do all this shit to me, with me, and now you’re acting like i’m the crazy one for thinking we’re more than just fuck buddies? that’s all you wanna be? fuck off" and angry sex…..

NOT SURE JUST SOME THOUGHTS…

yes. youve seen patrick's ex girlfriends, how obsessed they still are with him. there is something so egregiously intoxicating about him--it scares you. truly knocks the wind out of you.

you didn't get it before you became friends with benefits. before you leapt over that line in the sand that had been toed over for year and years.

but that one night in september when patrick had just broken up with a girl, and you were feeling upset after yet another horrible date--you got it.

patrick comforted you that night. it felt selfish; you were upset about a guy you met maybe twice. he had just dumped a girl he thought he truly loved.

you brought up the idea.

"let's just be friends with benefits." you plead. the truth was that you were so curious about him. as he grew more and more and became a man instead of an immature little boy--you wanted to feel him.

"what are you talking about?" he didn't want to ruin your friendship. but thee truth was that he had broken up with his girlfriend because of a petty little disagreement. it was trivial, really. he told himself it was just pure incompatibility. but in reality, he resented her for not being more like you. nobody could be you--except for you.

patrick knew it would be complicated. for some reason, you figured it wouldn't be. patrick was always hooking up with and talking to new girls. it seemed like he had the no strings attached thing down pat.

patrick made love to you that night. that was the only way to describe it. slow, meaningful, deep thrusts, your legs wrapped around his waist. desparate for him to be closer.

his words were filthy. he spread your cunt open and cooed about how pretty it was. how it opened up just for him. how wet he had made you. so pretty. so perfect.

it made you cum. it made your nails dig and dig and dig into his back.

you understood how his exes turned obsessive. maybe not even turned.

so you vowed to never get too attached. to never ruin your friendship.

you never slept over at his place, and you never allowed him to stay the night at yours. no pillow talk or sweet nothings. no dates.

of course, these stipulations had loose definitions. and as best friends, it was inevitable to show appreciation to each other, to go out to an occasional nice dinner or impromptu lunch.

patrick was becoming more and more livid with you. you didn't know what had changed. he was more bossy in bed; he went from slow sessions of eating your pussy to slapping his cock on your tongue and commanding you: fucking suck on it.

of course, you liked it. you loved anything he did to you. but maybe you missed how sweet he used to be. you wouldn't admit to yourself why that was.

valentine's day was soon. and maybe patrick had assumed that you would be his date. he made reservations for you.

"patrick, what are you talking about? no, i'm not gonna be your valentine." you shake your head, taking his tennis rackets from him to shove in the backseat.

"what the fuck do you mean 'what am i talking about?'" patrick lowers his voice. "we've been fucking for like 6 months why are you acting like this?"

"exactly," you say. "we've been fucking. we haven't been dating. i told you this would be purely platonic when we started."

patrick scoffs, slamming the door. he's yelling at you now. "so you're just gonna act like i'm fucking crazy for thinking this is more than platonic when it is definitely more than platonic?" he forces the car into reverse, driving away angrily.

"you're mad because i'm keeping my word--no, our word."

"whatever." patrick spat. "you're full of fucking shit. acting like this hasn't been dating this whole fucking time. making me seem like a fucking idiot for thinking you liked me."

"i do like you-"

patrick seethes; the vein in his neck pulses as he parks the car. he's dropping you off at your apartment.

"get the fuck out. go home. this is over--all of it is."

you gather your things and get out of patrick's car. you have barely shut the door when he skids away. your breath is visible in the cold february air, but your body is hot, and stiff with anger and confusion.

you think he will break and call you first. but one week passes, and then valentine's day. and soon it's march and you haven't so much as seen patrick for almost a month.

it's stupid. you go to patrick's apartment. you look like a lost puppy dog.

he doesn't answer the door. you know he's home. his car is in the driveway, you hear music in his living room. maybe he's with another girl. maybe he really did move on.

you don't leave. it's freezing, and your jacket is light--it's not made for the dry cold that hurts at the end of winter.

patrick opens the door.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

your lip wobbles.

"it's freezing out here what's your problem?"

patrick bullies you. he pulls you inside and wraps you in a blanket but sits on the opposite side of the couch. doesn't say a word.

you speak up; he cuts you off.

"i have nothing to say to you."

now you're begging. you're crying and the tears are stinging and you're on patrick's lap trying to get him to notice you.

"please pat, p-please. i miss you."

patrick grabs your jaw. he's stern. "this isn't how platonic friends act. this isn't how you fucking cry when you're just friends."

he's right.

you pull at his shirt. "please, i need you, i'll do anything. want you to be mine. i was so--stupid."

patrick is hard beneath you. he likes this.

"you're so fucking pathetic." he spits.

you get down on your knees in front of him.

"i'm so stupid."

"show me how much you want me." he pushes his sweatpants off; he's wearing no underwear. and his cock looks bigger. just as angry as he is.

you grab him into your hands and spit on his cock, moaning as you kiss it all over. lick him from his balls to the weeping head of his cock. suckling on him and hallowing your cheeks. saying im sorry im sorry im sorry.

he slaps his cock on your face. tells you you should be.

you feel how he pulses in your mouth; he groans as he pushes your face into his balls. you suck them into your mouth. your eyes water and your pussy drools for him.

patrick pulls you up. puts you on top of him. pushes your cunt onto his throbbing cock until you're gasping. god he's big and he's fucking relentless. you're not even moving and he's fucking up into you so hard you feel like you have whiplash.

but god, it feels so good. patrick pulls your hair, palms your ass, slaps your face. he rubs your clit and laughs at you. laughs at how much you're moaning. how easy you are.

"are you fucking sorry?" he asks. his balls slap against your ass.

you can barely get a word out.

"yes--i'm so sorry."

"tell me you love me." he wipes a tear from your eye. "tell me you fucking love me."

you nod, cumming right then. coating his cock in your slick, milking him.

"i love you patrick. love you so much. i'll never leave you again."

patrick cums too.

[ladykailitha]

I have decided today I am giving out my Steve Harrington headcanons, because I love him so much.

His parents are very rich. His dad is new money, self made. His mom is old money.

His father is Indiana born and bred, but his mother is from Kentucky. She doesn't have her accent anymore because she trained herself out of it. Though it does show up when she's drunk or angry.

I know everyone does Richard (Dick) for his dad mainly for the lols, which I respect, but I think his name is Clint. It's just rich dude bro enough, you know? And then for the mom I go back and forth between Maureen and Allison. Allison because that's Ally Sheedy's character in The Breakfast Club and I often use her looks as bases for Mrs. Harrington.

They were never meant to be parents. They had the one because that's what was expected of them, but no. They don't like kids.

I don't know if his dad is only verbally abusive, but he is some kind of shit. Steve was so scared of him finding out that there was alcohol the night Barb vanished that that was all that consumed his thoughts. And even in season 3 Steve tells Dustin (thinking he was his dad) that he doesn't do drugs, just marijuana. Meaning that's something they've fought about a lot.

Kids of good parents rarely smoke, drink, smoke pot, and have wild parties all the time as an under-aged teenager. There are no doubt exceptions, but most of the time it's kids who are neglected and abused that are the ones that act out like that.

Steve had nannies and baby-sitters growing up that he saw more than his parents. But he would still be taken on actual vacations with them. Mostly to show off that they do have a son.

He was in baseball in middle school but quit when he got into high school. His parents put him in as many after school activities as they could. He was taught piano. Went to swimming and was so good at it, he joined the team in high school. Played basketball throughout both middle and high school. But he was forced to dropout due to the concussion Billy gave him his senior year. It's why he sneers at Brenda at the game when she says it would ironic if they won the championship the year after he graduated. Because he wasn't even on the team his last year.

When he turned sixteen they gave him his BMW. No, he did not get to pick the car or the color, but he takes very good care of it. Does a lot of the maintenance himself. One of the few things his dad taught him, but because you needed to know enough to make sure your mechanic wasn't ripping you off.

He can cook. But only if he has a recipe to follow and will get upset if it doesn't look like the picture. Is a consummate baker though. Because everything has a reason it's done like that and it makes sense.

Definitely a fall baby. That's why he was able to lifeguard for three years even if he didn't lifeguard after his senior year due to him working at Scoops Ahoy.

He's bad at math and science which is why the Party teases him all the time, but he's great at English and history.

Only applied at the schools his dad thought were "appropriate" and didn't get in. But to be fair, he was still suffering from a concussion when those applications went out and he wasn't really at his best. Just above his worst if he was honest.

He likes his preppy clothes and while he laughs it off, it upsets him when he's made fun for it.

Alt rock fan all the way. Depeche Mode, The Cure, New Order.

Has a list of the Party's likes and dislikes for food and other things, so he is the best gift giver. He doesn't spend a lot of money, though he has been accused of that a couple of times. But he prefers well thought out gifts over expensive ones. It's why Max, Eddie, and the Byers boys love Steve gifts. They never feel pressured to one up him.

Complete romantic. Loves being in love, but it was hard to pick up the pieces of his broken heart after what happened with Nancy.

Loves Robin, but even though it is sometimes weird, it never veers into creepy or obsessive. Robin is absolutely the vodka aunt of the party to Steve's mom.

When Eddie comes into the group, they tease him that's he's the dad to Steve's mom. Because as goofy as Eddie is he absolutely wouldn't let the kids get into real trouble.

Steve the romantic gets absolutely wooed by Eddie and never is made to feel wrong footed when showers Eddie with the affection he would for a girl. It's nice for a guy to receive flowers sometimes too.

Steve favorite flower is sunflowers. But his favorite color is blue.

He absolutely keeps the vest. Refuses to give it back. Which Eddie is surprisingly okay with.

I could go on forever, but I'll stop there for now and if I come up with more I'll add them later.

[theaceace]

When Burgess summoned Dream, instead of Dream being completely cut off from the Dreaming, instead the magic pulled all of Fawney Rig into the soft places at the edge of the Dreaming, so like Dream still can't get out of the circle and his subjects can't get in but the Dreaming suffers much less and crucially, he still has access to some tiny fraction of his power

So now the whole house and everyone in it is sort of tied to the Dreaming and there's just oodles of magic coming off it, and the house in the Waking and the house in the Dreaming exist sort of superimposed over each other. Like you can be in one and sort of be aware of the other but you can't really flip between the two

And I want the whole thing to operate on a sort of combo between Aladdin in the cave of wonders/Orpheus leaving with Eurydice rules where it's said that if you enter the house in the Dreaming side and manage to find the Dream king, he'll grant you the thing you've been dreaming of, but the catch is you have to believe you have it. You have to leave the house without checking. So Burgess asks for Randall, but he turns to look almost before they're out of the basement because if he were Dream then he would pull a trick (TBF it wasn't actually Randall, just a dream of him, but Burgess couldn't tell the difference anyway because he was a terrible father and you can't change my mind). After that, he never managed to find the basement again. Never even manages to find the dream house again, only the waking one, although he goes mad looking for it

But like. Someone else asks for riches and the Dream king says they can be found the guy's pocket or whatever, but he can't feel anything? There's no weight there, no shape, his pocket seems empty (it isn't when he checks, but as soon as he gets out of the house, yelling about his triumph, it's gone and the house is mundane again)

Alex, who doesn't ask for anything until after the death of his father (and after he murdered Jessamy) asks for peace. For safety. The Dream king says nothing, and Alex lives the rest of his life in the Dreaming version of the house, too scared to step outside in case whatever peace he's found in his personal prison vanishes

Ethel never makes it to the house in the Dreaming . She takes what she wants from the waking, and when she leaves she doesn't look back once

Time passes, and more and more people find their way to Fawney Rig, but as Dream himself said, the great stories always return to their original forms, so no one succeeds because that's how it goes

And then. And then Hob. Hob who finds his way to the house just looking for an answer. Looking for something he can do to make sure his Stranger is there in 2089, because otherwise he might lose his mind with the what-ifs. So he finds the house, and he meets Alex, who hasn't set foot outside the front door in over 80 years except it's a little hard to feel sorry for him when Hob realises why. He meets Paul, who lives solidly in the waking, and hasn't been able to convince Alex that it would be worth it to leave with him. He finds his way down to the basement, finally, and there he finds his Stranger

And at first he thinks? It's a trick? Because isn't that sort of what this place does, it tricks you? But he speaks to Dream, and he gets the rest of the story from him, and the only thing Hob wants to take from this place is Dream. And he's like I want to get you out of here, but I can't because you're trapped in that circle (which for reasons unknown to the author right now but probably has something to do with the nature of dreams and stories can't just be broken like a regular spell circle) and I can't do anything about it and Dream is all you know the story, Hob Gadling. It is a more powerful magic than the binding. Leave, and don't look back, and trust that I am following

(Dream knows the story. He's sure he knows how it ends. But he also knows that it has to be played out, that he has to give Hob this chance - he finds himself, as he follows, weeping silently for his son and Eurydice)

So then there would be the agonising climb and return through the maze of the house where Hob almost looks back a bunch of times, and eventually he makes it to the door and steps out into the bright sun of the waking, and -

End title

[zedif-y]

Joel wakes up screaming.

His first thought, honestly, isn’t very coherent. A mishmash of need more time and a throat-tearing scream escaping him as he opens his eyes to–

His scream dies down. Joel looks around– at least, he thinks he’s looking around. Hard to tell when it’s all pitch black and he can’t see a thing, is he sure his eyes are working–?

Joel brings a hand to his face, “Did I go blind– What the heck!”

His voice comes out shrill, a hair away from a shriek (because no, it wasn’t a shriek, it was all manly and stuff, thank you.) as his hand kind of– it kinda–

He knows where his head is. Obviously. Be a bit weird if he didn’t. He knows where his head is, and he knows where his hand is. Both are important. So when he reached towards his head, right, gotta see if there’s a cloth over his eyes, or if he’s gone blind or whatever stupid thing must’ve happened to him after… After he…

His thoughts go fuzzy for a second, like that feeling you get when you think you’ve forgotten something but can’t remember what. Like knowing the shape of something you’ve lost, its absence so pressing that it chokes you like sand, clogging your lungs with each second it's gone but what the heck is it–?!

Where was he, again?

Oh. Right. He was freaking out.

The point is– because there was a point, right before things got all weird there– his hand went through his head.

It… He doesn’t even know how to explain it. It felt like… Not much, really. Didn’t feel like anything. But that’s the issue with it, the issue of something should be there, like skin and muscle and bone and perhaps even a brain. But instead, Joel put his hand where his face should be and he felt nothing, no matter how hard he tried, how far he reached and pushed and–

Joel wants to scream. Or laugh. Or cry. Either of the three, though preferably not that last one.

It’s so weird. He just wants…

There it is again. That feeling. The clawing, desperate something in his chest that twists and writhes–

“Hey, Joel.”

Joel screams. (First option, then.)

Jimmy just stares at him, unimpressed. His sunglasses are blocking his eyes.

For some reason, it makes Joel want to cry.

Jimmy sighs, “Are you done?” Joel gapes at him.

Are you serious, “Am I d– What the heck, Jimmy?” He snaps, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, I’m not bloody Grian–”

Since when did Jimmy get so quiet, anyway?

“Of course you’re not Grian,” Jimmy says, his voice all weird. Off. “It’d be easier if you were. He’s already moved on.”

Joel’s hackles rise, “What d’you mean it’d be easier?” He snarls, like snapping teeth. “And he hasn’t moved on, he’s just–”

“Looking for new friends?” Jimmy deadpans. Joel’s jaw clicks shut. “ ‘s what I thought.”

Oh, Joel wants to punch him in the–

Wait a second.

It comes back to him then, slamming into him like a wave. The bubbling, helpless laughter in his chest as he leaps and runs across a flimsy dirt bridge. The way he knows he’s fallen before, fallen a million different times and came out both dead and alive but he doesn’t care.

("–you can't keep doing this–")

He doesn’t (didn’t) care, because why should he, he’s got– he’s got water. He’s got water, like everyone else on this blumin’ server, he’ll live, surely, so there’s no need to be scared.

("–got to let go, eventually, right–?")

No need to worry, even as yellow feathers plummet and disappear from view and lightning strikes where Jimmy’s voice cut off–

“Joel!” Jimmy shouts, practically right in his face. “Joel, are you even listening–?”

This, Joel decides, is not Jimmy.

It's got the shape of Jimmy, sure. Right hair and face and everything. Right voice, right bloody curve of his eyebrows, which makes Joel laugh, because it isn't him.

It can't be. It can't be, because Jimmy's dead. Jimmy's gone, he ran out of time because he fell like an idiot so no, this can't be him, there's no way.

On all levels except physical, Joel can't seem to breathe.

There's no way this is Jimmy, he thinks, just the right amount of hysterical. It's just not possible.

Because if this is him, (and that's a big, gigantic if) then that means– That means wherever he went, Joel followed. Joel followed, and now they're in the Void, or Limbo, or whatever the heck it's called, and that means that Joel–

Joel failed Grian, too.

"You're not Jimmy," He says at last, with his not-there tongue and not-there face. His voice sounds distant. "He'd be like, crying. Screamin' about dying first again, going oh my gosh!" Joel tells Not-Jimmy, pitching his voice up and then laughs, laughs, and laughs.

Until he can't breathe. Until it hurts to.

Until it's not much of a laugh at all.

Light shines on Not-Jimmy's sunglasses. He's still the only thing Joel can see.

Joel reaches out, pretending to see two, shaking hands grab Jimmy by the shoulders. He pretends, thinks about it hard enough that he almost feels the texture of Jimmy's denim under his palms. He thinks, imagines, pretends, whatever, that the fabric crinkles under his touch, that the sob that makes his way past his lips is a laugh as he says, "I'm sorry."

Something wet trickles down his not-there face.

" 'm sorry, Jim," Joel rasps out, and it hurts. "You weren't supposed to– I had a surprise for you, you know?"

Jimmy's voice is quiet, "What kind of surprise?" He asks, and Joel…

Joel thinks he might be falling apart.

(Or maybe, his mind supplies, he shattered a long while ago. Like glass hitting the floor.)

He grins, or at least, he tries to. "I was gonna break your curse," He confesses, with his terrible, trembling mouth. "I was gonna sacrifice myself for you, be all heroic and everything."

Jimmy says nothing. Joel still can't see his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He's getting tired of pretending.

"Will you come with me now?" Jimmy– Not-Jimmy says, his voice ringing like the toll of a bell. "You've said your piece, not many are afforded that luxury."

Joel blinks. Death stands before him, no sunglasses to cover empty sockets.

For a moment, Joel considers fighting. Again, and again, and again.

But he is so, very tired.

He sighs.

I don't feel very lucky, Joel wants to say. And you still aren't Jimmy. 

"Whatever," He says instead. He feels his entire being slip away like sand, like time held tightly between two fists. "Take me away, or whatever it is you do."

Joel closes his eyes, "I'll tell him when I see him."