#feel free to rebuke

[duckysprouts]

Omg I love your twilight but svsss idea. I hope when new Jacob realizes Edward is into him, he tries yelling, "Bella! Come and get your man already!", only realize she is sloppily making out with a vampire chick behind him. Also I hope Edward and Bella be friends together in that mlm wlw solidarity

i haven’t figured out the dynamics yet since svsss is very hard to translate into twilight, but for some reason the compass is currently pointing towards bella-edward hostility😭

[fallen6253]

Why did Kim Rok Soo live like Satiama.

Hear me out:

The guy lived on the outskirts of town, basically isolated from civilization unless he was working (which probably built on his depression as social interaction is a very valuable thing to mental health). His work includes defeating monsters that threaten human life, and before he got good at it, he used to lose a lot. In fact, he got hurt a lot. He didn't let that part bother him too much because it was part of the job and it meant he would reach his goal. Saving people. Building strength to take down any enemy. Says he doesn't have a lot of money, yet may, in fact, be very rich (Krs was definitely rich and just lied, and while he doesn't exactly start out having actual income that I know of, he doesn't pay rent, and now Genos gives him money).

Thinks his problems are his own, and doesn't realize that whenever he meets people that don't hate him, he feels a bit better about life.

[notmoreflippingelves]

Hi! I just read your post about Mateo recently. If I may, can you give me any specific instances in the narrative of the show where Mateo isn’t called out as heavily as they should have? I’m just curious?

During the Shuriki returns arc in particular, Mateo makes some pretty glaring mistakes that I feel like he should've gotten much more flack for (and based on what we see elsewhere in canon, I feel pretty confident that if Gabe, Naomi, Isa, or Esteban at least --and possibly even Elena-- had made these mistakes, they wouldn't have been swept under the rug nearly as quickly as they were for Mateo).

While it's unfair to completely blame Mateo for Carla's manipulating him during the "Rita" arc, I feel like it's reasonable to hold him a *bit* accountable. He did after all blab highly confidential information (on more than one occasion) to try and impress a pretty girl with how clever and important he was. (Something tells me that if any of the others had done likewise, they would've been called out for it. But because it's "beloved" Mateo, we don't even get "wait, you told Rita how to get into your workshop? And you've known her for only a few weeks? What were you thinking, Mateo?") Moreover, he never even apologizes for this or promises to do better/be more careful with such important, sensitive information in the future.

Even more aggravating is his behavior in "The Scepter of Night." Mateo is so eager to play the hero and claim all the glory for himself that he twice (!) disobeys a direct order/abandons the plan and goes looking for the scepter piece on his own. This directly leads to Fiero and Victor finding the scepter piece and (temporarily) stealing it. And it's really only due to luck and very conveniently-timed infighting amongst Shuriki's allies that Elena and co. are able to get the scepter piece back. While Mateo does receive some (brief) criticism, it's nowhere near the level that it should be.

Also noteworthy Elena doesn't really get particularly "mad" at him (especially considering how angry we see her get at other characters even for more minor things) . She's not truly, actually angry at Mateo (and Gabe and Naomi are only a bit angrier); she's just a little frustrated and disappointed at him in the moment. And apart from a (very short) little "do better next time" speech, Mateo doesn't face any real consequences or lingering resentment unlike other characters who do.

When Isa obeys direct orders in "Sister of Invention," she has to face consequences (Elena grounding her). Similarly, Elena holds a grudge against Esteban for days (if not weeks) after he interfered with the Feast of Friendship (a much lower stakes mistake than Mateo's imo). Moreover, it's possible to interpret Esteban's staying behind in Avalor when the others go to see the Norberg Lights as a punishment (either self-inflicted or imposed by Elena) for his actions in the previous episode.

In contrast, Mateo just gets a brief "I expected better from you" speech from Elena and Gabe jokingly assigning him push-ups as punishment (which he immediately takes back when Mateo tries to do them). I'll give Mateo a little bit of credit for actually apologizing this time (which he doesn't always do). But it's still frustrating that everyone is so ready to forgive and forget Mateo's missteps immediately while this same courtesy is seldom shown to others.

I think it's worth directly comparing a few Mateo-centric episodes with a few more similar ones that focus on other characters so that we can see how there does seem to be a noted narrative bias in his favor compared to the others.

Let's start with two "feeling kind of insecure" episodes: "Spellbound" for Mateo vs. "Naomi Knows Best" for Naomi. In the former, Mateo expresses doubt that he's capable of rising to the occasion as royal wizard. No one (except Gabe and he gets over it by the end of the episode) blames him for not having reached his full level of confidence and potential right away and not being able to immediately solve the problem. And Elena in particular (and by extension the narrative) gives him so much validation and support. Whereas in "Naomi Knows Best" (and to a lesser extent "Finders Leapers" and the "Carla-as-Rita" arc as well) the narrative "punishes" Naomi for her feelings of self-doubt. We're told that *if only* Naomi had trusted her gut instincts and stood her ground right away, Elena and co would not fallen right into the trap and that Naomi needs to screw her head back on straight and embrace confidence ASAP to fix her mistake.

When Mateo feels insecure, the narrative gives him every reassurance about how capable and special he is, that he can learn at his own pace, and his insecurity isn't really such a problem after all. When Naomi feels insecure, the narrative encourages her to get over her doubts as quickly as possible because unlike with Mateo, there's "no time" for her to wallow in self-doubt and actually the fact that she even had said doubt in the first place is what "caused" the disaster.

On a slightly different note, Naomi is also called out for taking a little free, fun time for herself in "The Last Laugh" when the group needs her, and yet somehow I have a feeling that Mateo would've been allowed to take a day off if he wanted without any protest. He complains about long hours in "Movin' on Up" and Elena gives him the big royal wizard's chambers for him to relax and unwind in. Naomi asks for one (1) day off to spend with her childhood friend for her birthday , and suddenly it's big drama. (And at the time, Naomi asked for said day off, all Elena needed from her was help doing paperwork. The Team Ash stuff came up unexpectedly.)

Similarly whenever Gabe and Mateo get their little rivalry on ("Spellbound," "Party of a Lifetime," "Captain Mateo" and a few other examples) , the narrative either presents them as equally at fault or Mateo as the only one in the right.

When Gabe brings in Bronzino to train the Royal Guards in magic, it's specifically because Mateo failed to explain how and why he was training the guards in the way he was. If he'd just explained how they were going apply the seemingly basic exercise they were doing to real magic, Gabe likely would've allowed Mateo to continue the training at his own pace.

(Also like. it's super hypocritical imo for Mateo to get annoyed at Gabe feeling impatient/impulsive about their apparent-lack-of progress when Mateo himself is easily the second most impulsive character in the show after Elena.) Mateo feels entitled to keep important information to himself (or blab it to a cute girl he barely knows) even when its no one else's best interest. He's only okay with being "cautious and patient" when he specifically is the one setting the pace. And yet, Gabe is the only one who is called out for his behavior in this episode--even though he might not have acted as he did if only Mateo had trusted him and the guards with an explanation in the first place.

And then there's just a few other "dude not cool" little moments that never really get acknowledged/Mateo never apologizes for. For instance, there a two low-key terrifying Mateo moments in "Captain Mateo" that are not only not acknowledged but are also framed in context as Mateo being just "so funny and quirky". Near the end of "Should be in Charge," Mateo magically gags Gabe so he can't protest anymore about Mateo taking over as leader of the mission. And this is after having already enchanted one of the stationary suits of armor to come to life and fight Gabe. (Gabe admittedly does lightly shove Mateo out of the way during his parts of the song, but that's still a far cry from literally drawing a sword on Mateo as Mateo does via magic to Gabe.)

It's played for laughs (The Grand Council is just smiling happily in the background throughout the scene which is so yikes), so it's easy to overlook what's actually happening. Frankly, it's pretty horrifying that Mateo's natural instinct upon his experience/authority being questioned is to literally attack and then silence. (And attack and silence someone who is supposed to be one of his best friends and closest allies at that!)

Rather than the narrative acknowledging that maybe it's a bad idea to immediately grant power to someone to someone who is so retaliatory against fairly minor criticism, the Grand Council just gives Mateo exactly what he wants and doesn't even offer a "maybe next time, let's not gag or attack our friends, okay?" alongside it. I mean sure Mateo does step down as captain at the end of the episode, but it's very specifically presented as his and Gabe's voluntary choice and not an order from Elena/the Council.

[defmaybe]

Not Shy

1k words

aespa’s Yoo Jimin/Karina x Male Reader

Sequel to J’adore

Prequel to Afterglow

See also: Sticky, Bahama

“Are you sure no one noticed us coming in here?”

“The five-minute interval shouldn’t alarm anyone, f–fuck.”

You whimper as Jimin drags her lips on where the suit doesn’t cover, so—the hollow of your throat. Your back is leaning on the women’s bathroom door.

“And by the way, ngh, it’s like they’d snitch on a student president, anyway.”

“You’ve got nothing to lose, baby. You’re a fucking treasurer, mmm.”

“I–,” are the last things you can rebuke before the buttons of your shirt are unlocked.

It’s true, aside from a few bills collected onsite, you have absolutely no worries at this second, both at work and in reliability. Background works—billing, accounting—won’t be affected by whether you’re getting fucked by your head of student council, anyway. Treasurer is quite a passive position to do, isn’t it?

“Not so witty anymore, mmh?” Karina bends down; her tongue paints a straight line up your abdomen, and you clench your mouth tightly to not have the other partygoers hear your symphony—her words.

“C–Can’t you just like, ngh, forbid them o–or something?” you ask, legs shaking with her hand groping your bulge, her lips still printing endless marks on your chest. Your composure is stripped off with each clothing removed.

“I wish secrets work like that, dumbass,” she responds, fingers grabbing your crotch–tightly, sending a shock throughout your lithe frame.

“Ngh! F–Fuck~ Alright, I–I get it, Jimin.”

“Be a good boy for me and keep quiet, alright?” She pulls back from your now-reddened body, locking you within her eyes–brown, alluring. It helps that her hair is tied to the back neatly with no stray strands, so that you can see her face—god, that face, the perfectly sculpted nose, the rosy red lips—clearer.

“S-Sure.” You can do nothing but comply.

Now, the logistics of the bathroom aren’t very complex. There are stalls—perfect for a sitting position. There are walls, obviously—pin Jimin against the wall and fuck her brainless. Though, is she a woman like that—the kind that is so eager to become a student president in college, and so pliant at the same time? You’d argue that there exists a woman in this intersection; it’s just not Jimin.

This is where the mirrors and the sinks come in.

“Ready?” The stark eye contact is still there, and she’s still grabbing your aching erection under the pants.

“Ready what?”

“You know, fucking my cunt,” Jimin growls, letting go of your bulge onto the back of her neck, trying to unlatch her thin, black strap holding her night together.

“O–Oh, yeah.” And swiftly, the clanks of your belt, the swoop of your pants, and another swoop of your underwear finally unshackles your raging length for her.

At the same time, her dress comes undone, freeing her voluptuous breasts topped by the hardened brown peaks just for you, and you don’t realize that you’ve been entranced by them for a little too long.

“Hey,” Jimin says, snapping her fingers. “Yeah, I fucking know they’re big. Now fill me up already.”

You gulp, “Y-Yeah,” as you watch her taking off her laced purple panties.

She then hands you the garment. “Here, a souvenir for our underappreciated treasurer.” She rolls her eyes while saying so, not believing the words coming out.

With not much time to lose, you quickly shove her used underwear into your pockets, making sure no tails of it can be seen. And getting ready, Jimin walks towards the marble sink, planting hands on it. Her immaculate features are shown in the mirror. She pulls the charcoal-black dress up, looking at you in the reflection.

“Fuck me.”

It would be the sight of your ass jerking back and forth if someone is to walk in on the debauchery—not your cock, not her tits (helps that your hands are using them as handles—grabbing, squeezing). Every thrust in and out of her, the sight of her contorted expression, the sound of her silent moans are sending you into rapture.

“Y–Your vagina feels so good, J–Jimin, ngh,” you moan. Your cock now glistens with her juice.

“Say ‘cunt’ or ‘pussy’ like a normal person, idiot. I’m not a fucking prudish,” Karina scoffs.

You aren’t in the right state of mind to debate, really. Her wet, tight cavern is so determined to milk every drop of essence out of you to drought. The walls squeezing around your needy length is just too much to handle.

And there it is, your impending release. You can feel it in your loins, far, but it’s there. Karina gives you a stern eye contact along the act—purposeful, ardent. Hell, she’s even smirking at you. She’s always this confident, isn’t she? It has been like this since the first meeting. She’s headstrong, not swaying by a bit, even if she’d be alone with the choice. She’s kind, not swaying by a bit, even if it means getting herself into harm. She’s perfect. She’s fucking perfect.

“F–Fuck, Jimin, I think I’m gonna–”

“Just fucking cum inside me, baby. I wanna feel your cum dripping down my legs. I wanna feel your cum–, ngh,” she cries out, unable to form the last words. She doesn’t seem to care about her forte anymore.

And it’s like you’d care, anyway.

“Cum with me, alright?” Jimin looks back at you, before mumbling under her breath, “Ha, fucking bye-nior prom.”

It’s not much more for you to release your seed inside of her, as you can feel her body shrieking around your cock. It’s a euphoria—eyes fluttering, hips slowing down, panting and such. You can hear your cacophony echo throughout the bathroom. 

As you two come down from the orgasm, Jimin’s breaths are still ragged. “F–Fuck, that’s great, my dear treasurer.”

“Y–You’re t–too, my dear president.” You’re also unable to catch your rhythm.

“Do you think anyone would hear us?”

You ponder for a few heartbeats before replying, “Yeah, definitely… maybe.”

[sunderwight]

SV scenario where Shen Jiu is also Shen Yuan's Meimei.

Trans egg SJ never got to examine her gender identity very much in her first life. What with all the enslavement, abuse (given as well as received), misunderstandings, betrayals, dismemberment, and death, there was far too much for her to ever come to terms with a set of concepts she'd never really had the luxury to entertain. By the time Shen Jiu was a peak lord, the Shen Qingqiu persona was locked in, and any dreams of a different life or inclinations to the contrary of her role were ruthlessly quashed by SJ herself.

But when SJ finally dies and her soul is free to reincarnate (taking a few more memories than usual along for the ride), she has mixed feelings about being born as the youngest daughter of a wealthy family.

The mixed feelings don't actually last long, though after a while she starts to wonder why the fates would grant her a reprieve? Maybe remembering her past life is her punishment, because it's certainly the worst part of her new situation. Her parents are indulgent, her older brothers all dote on her and spoil her, and when she tests limits she's only gently rebuked if she gets rebuked at all. Not only is she allowed to wear fine dresses and look pretty, she's expected to (actually the expectation does chafe, a bit). But even when she uses foul language, skips classes, reads controversial books, and commits myriad other tiny rebellions, no real retribution ever comes of it.

Even despite everything, after some years Shen Jiu starts to become... not complacent, but perhaps calmer would be a better description. She has a stable future handed to her on a silver platter. Very few things remind her of her past, either. She can read books about snotty highborn lords getting railed by werewolves as readily as classics of literature or academic papers on science, business, culture, politics, or whatever else takes her fancy. Her family doesn't even put demands on her to marry, despite some of her mother's hints in that direction. For the first time, Shen Jiu has a life where it seems like she can't fail, she can only succeed however much she wants to. It's like having nowhere to go but up, except without the part about hitting rock bottom.

A foolish set of assumptions, in the end. There's always something to lose.

When Shen Yuan suddenly dies, Shen Jiu recognizes the sinister hand of the same entity which oversaw her own reincarnation. One which had visited her dreams quite recently, trying to tempt her back to her first life with offers of being able to change the past. It wasn't even difficult to deny it. Shen Jiu doesn't believe she could change what happened, and she doesn't really want to try. Her one regret is what happened to that person, the one who died so horribly while rushing to her rescue, and even that, she doesn't know how she would change (because she still doesn't know why he bothered in the first place).

But how dare the System God take the silliest and softest of her brothers to try and fix her accursed first life?! Luo Binghe will eat him alive! Cang Qiong will mistake him for a demon or a madman or worse, and throw him into some cell somewhere, if they don't just kill him outright!

Shen Meimei tries to negotiate with the System, but it tells her the window of opportunity for her to go back instead has passed. Smarmy piece of shit. There's nothing she can do without supernatural help, however, except bide her time and wait for another "window of opportunity". It's in the midst of this that she discovers PIDW, and its (terrible) account not only of the broad strokes of her first life and death, but of what came afterwards. That little beast really wrecked the world, huh? And all those women, too. She's never been more grateful to have not figured herself out in her first life. But at least with access to this information, she can try and prepare more. (She's suspicious of who actually wrote this account as well -- is Luo Binghe himself in this world? Better to leave it now, in that case, before he inevitably makes another bid for power and destroys everything in his wake all over again!)

When the System finally gives her an opportunity to go back (as herself, or rather "Bonus Epilogue Side Character -- Shen Qingqiu's Mysterious Little Sister!") she is braced for any number of outcomes. Shen Yuan could be dead. He could be imprisoned. He could have had his limbs all cut off. He could be stuffed into a pickle jar. He could be hiding or on the run somewhere. Hopefully, he'll be hiding behind that person, confused and distraught but still intact thanks to the sect leader's guilt-driven sense of obligation. Most likely if the same number of years have passed since Shen Yuan "left", he's already been destroyed by Luo Binghe and all Shen Jiu will be able to do is avenge him. But she has some ideas of how to kill the beast, so, she will.

Of course, what she finds is nothing she expected, and almost even worse.

Luo Binghe married her brother?!

Death is too good for him! Shen Jiu's going to skin him alive!!!

[periprose]

Arachnid Anxiety

You're Spider-Woman, and you've been tasked with babysitting Mayday. Maybe you have a bit of stress that you need to vent about, and Hobie comes along quite conveniently for that purpose.

Genre: Fluff, reader having anxiety, Hobie giving her advice, very cute, reader is a Jessica Drew variant, perhaps mutual pining if you squint, takes place during the movie but before Miles arrives to the Society, terrible british slang attempts (sorry Hobie :'))

Word Count: 2.4k

Babies are hard to wrangle when they’re crawling up walls.

Of course, Peter B. Parker said that he needs a nap, just this once, and he needs someone to watch over Mayday while he sneaks away into the sleeping pods in the Spider-Society-System. Sometimes he and MJ don’t get sleep for days at a time, so you get it.

But Mayday is so curious, and you find yourself having to pull her prying hands away before she inadvertently tampers with things around Miguel’s labs and causes either a mass outage or a explosion or Miguel’s wrath. You understand why Peter is a little exhausted.

She’s a very cute baby, though, and you can’t help but coo at her as she clambers off the wall into your arms. 

“Who’s a good Spidey? Who’s gonna be the best of us?” You shake her up and down and she giggles, wrapping her arms around you. 

You instinctively flinch, feeling your Spider-Sense go off.

“Large statement to make. But I see where you’re coming from.” Spider-Punk comes up from behind you, and you turn to him. “She’s definitely punk.”

“Hey, don’t go claiming someone else’s kid as one of your own.” You joke, and Hobie scowls as he pulls off his mask.

“Don’t believe in claims. Or labels, for that matter.” He scratches his hair, looking effortless as he ever does, and you roll your eyes. “She is… who she is. Forgive me for using a descriptive word, Spider-Woman.”

“I get it.” You hold Mayday as she squeals at the sight of Hobie, and she motions in an uppy-uppy motion. She wants to be held by him, but he ignores her.

You never quite know how to feel about Hobie Brown. The Amazing Spider-Punk is revolutionary, known for being better than just his words– he holds himself to the very essence of anarchy. He practices what he preaches.

But you can’t quite get a read on the guy. You don’t know if he’s pulling your leg– or taking the piss as he would say– when he gives his bouts of advice while somehow simply being amazing through it all. He somehow knows what to say but he also isn’t the most comforting, and that in itself makes you drawn to him. He just happens to be kind of rough around the edges, and it’s because of that you know he truly means what he says. 

No sugar-coating, ever.

But you hate yourself, because you’ve somehow managed to fall for him. 

It’s not uncommon for Spideys to fall for each other. Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy. But you know this is the one time it just wouldn’t end well for you.

You can already hear Hobie’s comments if he ever found out. He’d probably rebuke you even though you’d never try anything. Tell you he doesn’t feel that way and you’re delusional for potentially thinking that he would ever tie himself down. Spiders are meant to be swinging free and all that.

Even worse, he just happens to be beautiful. You’re positive that if Hobie wasn’t so anti-everything he would have stuck with being a runway model. His face is molded in a distinctive way that has you trying to catch his glance, even if he only looks at you with nonchalance, completely unbothered, not a hint of chemistry in his eyes.

It is with great displeasure that you find yourself wanting his bored attention anyways.

And so you’ve been swallowing your crush for the greater part of a year now. You’re sure it will pass like all things do.

Pavitr, as much as you love him, has told you many times about the “chemistry” between you and Hobie– and you have told him every time to fuck off. Not in an actual harsh way, because again you can’t help but love the guy, but because you don’t need false hope.

You’re just Spider-Woman. Another red-and-yellow suited variant of Jessica Drew, you might as well just be another Peter Parker. You know that’s not how you’re supposed to think of yourself, but it’s just how it is. Canon events brought you here, and according to Miguel, it’s not something you chose– you just happened to be there at the right time and place. You’re no Jess, who comes in on her motorcycle, raging heat and excitement on her toes– you are one of the many, instead of being exceptional like the few.

You’re not like Hobie, who is as far as you know, one of a kind.

“What’s on your mind, Spider-Woman?” Hobie asks as he picks through random tech on the desk in Miguel’s lab, taking what he feels is useful for whatever it is he does with the stuff. He’s never used your name, because he doesn’t know it.

You and a few other Spider-People have chosen to stay anonymous, for different reasons, and only Miguel and Margo know who you really are. Hobie has told you before that that’s pretty cool– he only chose to give up his name because it was easier to get along with people that way. Hobie knows there’s power in people.

“Just babysitting. Obviously.” You motion to Mayday, who takes this moment to thwip out a web and swing away from you– but you’re faster and you grab her back into your arms, and she pouts.

“Nah, nah. I mean that sour expression upon your lovely little visage, imbecile.” He pokes your masked cheek, and you find yourself blushing but pulling away from him. Hobie is like that– overly familiar and no real sense of space because he doesn’t care.

“It’s not lovely.” You retort, fully convinced of it because he has never seen your face, only your incredulous expression through the eyes of your mask. 

You think that Hobie is again being sarcastic about your unknown appearance, and because his back is facing yours as he searches through random shelves now, you don’t catch how his face frowns at your response.

“Disagreements about your anonymous-but-surely beautiful face aside– not that looks matter, mind you– you’re clearly miffed about something.” Hobie turns and crosses his arms, and it’s with a little embarrassment and comfort that you want his advice. Even if it’s kind of to do with him.

“Well, I guess, uh… lately I’ve just been feeling kind of down. Like what’s the point of all this?” You bite your lip, knowing Hobie’s feelings on nihilism. “I don’t mean like nothing in life matters, Hobie. I mean more that I don’t matt– I don’t… anyways, I feel useless. I don’t have anything special about me, I don’t really bring anything to the Spider-Society that wasn’t already brought.”

"Whoa whoa whoa. Nah, lady, you've got your priorities all twisted." Hobie pulls your arms, bringing you kind of closer to him, and rests his hands on your shoulders, making you listen. "This inner hatred stuff– that sick urge to feel shame and then blast it inside of yourself, all that repression, yeah? It's a crock of shit."

"Huh?" You and Mayday both peer up at him. You behind your mask, and she with her crocheted one. 

Hobie picks up Mayday, finally giving into her wishes to be held by him, and she immediately giggles. There’s a subtle smile on his face that warms him to you a little.

"It might feel good in the moment. It might even feel revolutionary." Hobie scowls, and scratches his jaw. "It's worthless. Notice, Spider, I didn't call you worthless. The very action is garbage, a visceral thing that brings no productive value– that's what they want you to feel."

"Ah, because then I'll never fight against the establishment, right, Hobie? I'll be too busy fighting myself." You say mockingly, taking on a fake-pretentious-Cockney accent, mimicking him, but Hobie gives you a chill look and nods.

"Now you're getting it."

"Aw." You slump and slouch and sit on the counter full of gadgets and gizmos next to him. "I know you're right, but… don't you ever get people getting mad at you?"

"You've lost me."

"Like… being so responsible." You roll your eyes as Hobie snickers and whispers the spider-mantra you all know so well. "Or just living by your own ideology so… efficiently. It's almost like a slap in the face to the rest of us Spiders. We don’t know how to cope, and here comes along Spider-Punk with all his personal assurance that even if things aren't alright, he'll make it alright for himself."

"Oi, trust me, it wasn't all that easy." Hobie sniffs and sits down next to you, holding Mayday close and then letting her go as she crawls onto the wall in front of you. "You really think I haven't had a bad day? I haven’t had my moments of self doubt, huh?”

“Uh… well. When you put it like that, it does sound kind of crazy.” You admit, and nudge him with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean any harm, Hobie. I just feel so… inadequate.”

“Just stop.” He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and you feel that yet again, he’s somewhat unreadable. “Don’t think those things. You’re not inadequate.”

“But I–”

“Stop.” He grasps your hands, and squeezes them tightly in his own, and you wonder if Hobie has ever looked this seriously at you, his eyes soft yet firm with affection.

You’re in trouble, you think. Your heart is pounding and you’re really glad he can’t see your face.

“I don’t think you know how important you are.” He utters so quietly, in that very deep voice that has you leaning in to hear him better. “You’re not nothing, Spider-Woman. You’ve done a lot of good for your Earth-257, I’m sure, and that makes you something special. Like the rest of us– you’re kind of irreplaceable, right?”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess.’” Hobie punches the side of your arm and you pretend to say ow, laughing a little. “If you didn’t exist, we’d all be poorer for it. Peter couldn’t ask you to chill with his baby, and I couldn’t be here talking your ear off.”

“But I’m not– I don’t really compare to her, you know?” You say without thinking, and then immediately squint at your own stupidity. 

“Who’s her?” Hobie is wary of how your expression is shifting. “Stacy?”

“Uh, no.” You inhale, exhale, and then decide it’s time to get it over with. “Jess.”

“Jess? Jessica Drew, huh?” Hobie smirks a little. “You don’t want to be adopted by her, do you?”

“More complicated than Gwen’s weird fantasy.” You shift on your spot on the counter, and pull off your mask after a minute of tribulations. “I’m… also Jessica Drew.”

You feel incredibly shy as Hobie takes in your face, wary of his every move as you feel yourself sweating, and he grasps your face gently, peering into your eyes and taking a look at your features, as if he’s really trying to remember them.  

“Huh.”

“What is it?” You say a little too defensively, and he shrugs. 

“You do have a lovely visage, you silly little sod. Even if it’s completely different from Jess’ face.” He laughs as you shove him away, covering your face in your hands. “No, don’t do that.”

He’s tracing your jaw, and he murmurs. “Maybe you could use a few piercings… a tat or two… ever thought about it?”

“No.” You shut your eyes. “I’m not cool like you.”

“Oh, shut it.” He leans in imperceptibly closer, and you blink, eyes open. Maybe Pavitr had a point that Hobie and you have something, because there’s not really another explanation for that look in his eyes. “You’re plenty cool, Jessica Drew. It was just a shit suggestion of mine.”

You think Hobart “Hobie” Brown is sweeter than you previously thought. You have half a mind to tell him about your feelings.

You and Hobie both look up, Spider-Senses tingling, and sure enough, Mayday is cooing from the ceiling– she leaps into your already waiting arms. She giggles at your expression.

Oh well, you think. There’ll be some other time to work up the courage to tell him.

Hobie half-smirks at her. “Way to interrupt us, Mayday.”

She looks at him all confused, tilting her head in a “huh?” motion, and you feel the same way, not entirely sure what Hobie meant by that and not willing to assume either.

He answers you by pulling your face in a sudden, swift motion, connecting his lips to yours, and in between the two of you, Mayday shrieks and laughs. She crawls off to the side of you, no longer smothered between your torsos.

Hobie is weirdly insistent– you feel like he’s been wanting to do this for a while, maybe longer than the length of your conversation (you don’t know if this is just a funny little fling for him, but you’re fairly sure it isn’t) and he’s a lot taller and lankier than you, so he really has to tower over you to reach your mouth better. He’s grasping your jaw and neck and the back of your head with a lot of intensity– you feel wildly dizzy when he pulls away.

“Uh.” Peter B. Parker is standing in front of you both, mouth wide open, and you look back at Hobie and he grins rather coolly, not really giving a damn. It’s enough to make you snort. “Wait, who are you?”

“Oh. Spider-Woman from Earth 257.” You remember Peter has never seen your face, either. “Jessica Drew?”

“Right, right.” Peter raises his hands in a whoop-de-doo motion, like he should’ve known that. “Nice to know what you look like behind the mask. Not nice to know that you’ve been avoiding your babysitting duties. Why are you two fooling around like prepubescent children? What happened to responsibility?”

“Ahhhhh, please, Peter. Live a little.” Hobie stands up, his full length of height drawing him to about the same height as Peter if not an inch taller. He picks up Mayday and hands her off to him. “Let’s not act as if you and MJ weren’t shacking up in the sleeping pods last week, yeah? Does Miguel need to know about how irresponsible you were?”

You think he’s kidding, but Peter pales and you clap your hands over your mouth, trying not to laugh. Miguel would absolutely throw a fit if he found that out.

“Uh…” Peter swallows. “At least that’s not an interdimensional tragedy-in-the-making like you two.”

“There’s no rules against that, I don’t think.” Hobie shrugs. “And if there are, fuck them. Miguel doesn’t know it all.”

“He really is punk to the very end.” Peter groans and leaves out to the hallway with Mayday. 

Hobie flashes a smile at you as he sits back down, ruffling your hair.

[yumeboshi]

Happy 100!! I’d love to see the nostalgic starfruit sundae :0

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @cakeboxie .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡．．

𐙚NOSTALGIC STARFRUIT SUNDAE：almost makes you feel younger。

𐙚 dish desc。．when you two were younger, he crushed on you even back then。

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。pure starry sweet fluff finally, a little non canon in aven, teen setting/late teens in aven’s, bittersweet

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。sunday and aven

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY

。before becoming what he is right now, he was a sweet and probably shy boy who, during your first meeting, could not utter a single word and unintentionally let Robin do all the talk 。he will feel so foreign, poor him; he has never felt such an influx of emotions. he’d stammer over his words, forgetting everything about what his family taught him about ‘etiquette’ and will always end up looking stupid because he really can’t do anything around you. 。“sunday, are you listening?” “….ah, yes. sorry, I was distracted. um, please continue.” 。i definitely see him stalking you, just like in a cute way. when you’re out doing your own business or hanging out in golden hour, he’d just stare at you from afar- probably from his estate’s window like some deprived owl, completely entranced by you- the way you smile, the way you laugh at someone’s jokes- the way your hair ripples with the wind like soothing waves— was he daydreaming again? 。it gets so bad. he’s obsessed, daydreaming, even robin knows her brother’s head is in the clouds. the dreammaster hereby then prohibited him from seeing you, because you were getting in his plans to educate him since all he’d ever talk about was you. you were his new priority- he doesn’t even care about the order anymore; making the dreammaster grumble about when he’d raised such a lovesick boy. 。but gopher wood did not foresee that the young boy would do anything daring at all, like rebuking his orders.

STARLIGHT is near and you’re already hiding under the Oak Family’s residential area where you’re probably not supposed to be inside one of the back garden’s bushes, patiently waiting for your romeo to come.

How could you refuse? He was the loveliest, the sweetest and the most handsome boy you ever met, albeit not meeting a lot of kids your age. His wings too, were so fluffy and so cozy to lean into. Your little heart could comprehend these foreign feelings as a crush.

And there he was- your young prince, quickly stepping out of the window that’s barely open, tipping to the floor like a dove that’s free from its cage. Every step he takes is already elegant and authoritative, it reminds you that you are not his class, and you should not be here.

When your face peeks out of the bushes, his expression immediately lights up as if someone had brought all the stars from the sky to his face, he immediately runs to you and laughs breathlessly. “You’re here.”

”Shhh!” You frown and put your small hand to his mouth. He looks around at that- his wings tickling your nose, and he shrugs- “—I don’t see anyone nearby.”

“But the scary old man might be—“ you break off, and your heart skips a beat when you hear footsteps. Without thinking, you quickly hug sunday and pull him into the bush out of terror.

A second has passed. Two; or three, maybe. You lose track of time because of his loud heartbeat thudding against your own. You were not sure if it was out of fright or out of this complex feeling neither one of you were knowledged in.

You snap out of it quickly, because it made your head spin as if a swarm of butterflies were invading it. The dreammaster was gone, but neither one of you were moving an inch.

It feels time has stopped. Maybe you are wishing it did, because you know all too well that this would become a fleeting memory.

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE

。one day, after facing a similar massacre in your own planet, you are thrown into captive under a shady man. 。you are not alone, but you are more annoyed by the fact that your cellmate is an avgin. you are pretty sure your parents had told you countless stories about their wicked ways. 。kakavasha, on the other hand, is enamored by you. the way you snap back at your captor, the way you are defiant- even in such stakes. it enchanted him. it even inspired him. 。when he’s still a little kid, he’d follow you around like a little puppy despite your annoyance. 。but when you grow a little older- maybe around your teens, he hits his growth spurt, and he grows almost unrecognizable- yes, those tantalizingly beautiful eyes of his stay the same; but he just becomes so.. manly. masculine, almost mature- it’s hard to believe the quiet and puppy-like boy grew up to be such a fair.. man. 。but one thing that did not change a bit with him was the way his usually bored and dead stare would light up when he sees you. he teases you a lot, he likes to practice his tricks on you, simply because it’s endearing how you snarl in frustration at his antics. 。you are his personal pair of sky blue shades. you changed the way he saw the world forever- looking at you, he could think that the world might not be that cruel, if it doesn’t take you away.

ALTHOUGH his long awaited freedom has arrived- to the hands of an unknown woman who calls herself jade, he felt as if his world was crumbling again, all too familiar to what he felt when he was younger.

What about you? You have no clue about his release. He’d sworn to you he’d stay with you forever whether you liked it or not- he still remembers how you snorted and dismissed it with a light blush across your cheeks, scoffing that all the avgins were liars anyway- he’d laughed and told you he wouldn’t ever lie to you, ever, which earned him a glare and an embarrassed slap.

He tried to deny it. He wanted to say no. He couldn’t leave you here, no. you were his wild card, the one chip he would never, ever gamble on; because he cherished you over himself. you are the one thing he’d never risk— his only love, you have his whole world, you’re like a diamond key to his closed and broken heart.

But life was truly cruel, because he knew right now that it was his last chance to break free from the burdens of his past. His heartache will perhaps be soothed a little, after leaving those memories behind. But it means he will have to leave you behind as well.

Although his heart screamed no, that he was your one and only and he had to stay with you, his rationality whispered a different tale- echoing the woman’s promises of freedom.

And here he was, selfishly walking to the cell that held all of himself. You were there, barely awake, looking up at the sky that is too beautiful for the words he is about to say to you.

He takes in your ethereal figure underneath the twilight, your eyes are the cosmos itself, reflecting the moon inside them. He always took pride in his eyes, but nothing could be more beautiful than yours. he’d fallen in love with them the first time you two met. they are almost deceptively exquisite enough to make someone like him lose his rationale.

He is about to say something but your finger presses against his lips- you don’t turn to look at him; your eyes are fixed somewhere afar. “I know,” you say quietly.

So you knew? He hid his surprise. He had thought he did a good job acting it up. He shakes his head with a laugh- of course. This was you. You knew his every expression, the faintest of creases on his face, you could see right through him.

“Then I suppose I don’t have to entertain you with any cheesy goodbyes. Do you wish to say any more words?” He asks with his playful smile, albeit he knows you know he’s trying his best not to break down.

You hesitate, and then hold his hand gently. “Take care, kakavasha.”

At that, he could not take it anymore. He leans forward to kiss you, for the last time, and he tastes like memories. He tastes like your annoyance, your laughs, your cries, you feel like you are experiencing your childhood all over again like a broken record. Something bitter graces your mouth and you realize it is his tears.

“Always trying to act tough, just don’t do that in the outside world.” You laugh into the kiss, and you feel him smile against your lips. He tilts his head away, glancing somewhere else to mask how vulnerable he is- but you stop him, you look into his eyes that are far too distinct- they are seas of magenta, wavering each time he blinks to conceal any tears.

As his lips part from yours, he feels himself slowly dissipate. Kakavasha was no more.

[rottenfyre]

Do you think there's a very big difference of Anakin after his transition to dart Vader? Or the once sweet bright eyes boy still longer deep inside him? Also if I remember correctly his armor literally it on maiden on steroid it's so painful but it keep him alive maybe with reader presence near him it can help the pain a little

Oh, absolutely, there’s still a part of Anakin left inside Vader. I think that’s what makes him so tragic. Anakin never really stops loving—it’s just that his love becomes darker, more suffocating, and even more possessive once he transitions into Vader. The sweet, hopeful boy who dreamed of saving the galaxy? The one who looked at you like you were the center of his universe? He’s not gone—he’s just locked away.

Anakin’s love was always intense, borderline overwhelming. He’s the kind of person who would give you the galaxy if he could, and if he couldn’t, he’d burn it down for you instead. When he becomes Vader, that same devotion is still there—it’s just twisted into something that’s more terrifying than tender.

Think about it: as Anakin, he’s the type to whisper to you about how you’re his everything, how he can’t live without you, and how he’ll always protect you. But as Vader? Oh, it’s so much worse. He doesn’t just promise to protect you—he forces you to stay by his side, locking you away in a golden cage and daring others to come closer. In his mind, it’s for your own good. The galaxy is dangerous, and he’s already lost so much. He won’t risk losing you, even if it means controlling every aspect of your life.

Vader’s entire existence is fueled by pain—physical, emotional, spiritual. Every breath he takes in that suffocating armor reminds him of his failures, of how far he’s fallen. But when you’re there? You’re the only thing that makes him feel human again.

Like, imagine him in the middle of one of those long, lonely moments when it’s just him and the endless ache of his body and soul. Then you step into the room, and for the first time in hours—or days—he feels a flicker of relief. Your presence, your voice, the way you look at him like he’s still Anakin... it’s the only thing that quiets the storm inside him.

And yeah, let’s talk about that armor for a second. It’s hell. Every inch of it is designed to keep him alive, yes, but it’s also a prison. It’s like the Sith wanted him to suffer so his anger would stay sharp. The constant pain, the weight, the limitations—it’s unbearable. But when you’re near him? It’s like the Force shifts. The pain dulls, the pressure eases. It’s not a cure, but it’s enough to make him crave your presence even more.

Now, does he still love you as Vader? Oh, absolutely. In fact, his love for you becomes even more intense. Anakin’s love was passionate and overwhelming, but as Vader, it’s darker. He’s lost everything else, and you’re all he has left. He’ll do anything to keep you with him.

Picture this: you call him "Anakin," just once, softly, like you used to. He freezes. His breath hitches, the mechanical rasp faltering for a moment. No one’s called him that in years. No one dares. And yet, when you say it, it doesn’t feel like a rebuke. It feels like forgiveness. Like love.

Now, would Vader’s obsession be different from Anakin’s? Yes, in some ways. Anakin, for all his flaws, still has that boyish charm and overwhelming need to protect you. He’d do anything to make you happy—even if it means bending the rules or making selfish choices. Vader, on the other hand, doesn’t care about rules or even your happiness anymore. All he cares about is having you.

“You’re mine,” he’d say, his mechanical voice low and menacing. “You belong to me, now and always. No one will ever take you from me.”

It’s possessive. Claustrophobic. But also deeply, heartbreakingly vulnerable because you are his only light. He doesn’t even know how to express that without it coming out as a threat.

Now, if you call him Anakin—like, if you look into that black mask and say his name—he’s done. He’ll freeze, and for a moment, you’ll see him falter. It’s like all the layers of darkness peel back, and he’s just a broken man again, desperate for your love.

“Say it again,” he’d whisper, and for the first time, his voice doesn’t sound mechanical—it sounds human.

And you better believe he’ll latch onto that. He’ll want you to keep saying his name, keep looking at him with those soft, forgiving eyes. You might even catch him hesitating—his voice softer, his touch gentler.

But then the guilt sets in. He doesn’t think he deserves to be Anakin anymore, not after everything he’s done. So, he buries that part of himself even deeper and clings to you even harder because you’re the only good thing he has left.

I like to think that, even as Vader, your presence is the only thing tethering him to his humanity. Without you, he’s lost. But with you? There’s still a glimmer of hope that the man he once was might come back.

In short: Vader is still Anakin, but his love for you is darker, more obsessive, and far more dangerous. He’s not the sweet, bright-eyed boy anymore, but he’ll always be yours, in his own twisted way. And honestly? That’s what makes him so compelling. You’re the one thing that keeps him human, but his obsession can either save him or destroy him—and you along with it.

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 14

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, some setting is in a hospital, mentions of catheters and needles, descriptions and talk of anaphylaxis, mentions of financial difficulties, mentions of alcohol, mentions of toxic parents, mentions of death and suicide, minors do not interact

word count: 7.9k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

palestine will be free

The first thing you feel is something plastic poking the inside of your nose. It smelled of chilly, medicinal air conditioning. 

The next thing you feel is a massive, unpleasant weight on your chest. Then at the crown of your head. Then some weird pressure squeezing your calves every few seconds. Then an entirely full bladder. 

“I need to fucking pee.” You mutter, voice dry and raspy. 

“I think you can just go, dude.” A familiar voice replies. 

You fight against the crustiness of your eyes but immediately regret it. All you can see through the slits of your eyelids is a harsh, white light. 

“Am I… Am I fucking blind?” You whine. 

“I’m pretty sure that your eyeballs are still inside your head. So hopefully not.” You hear the voice chuckle. 

You fight against the unforgiving glare from above, forcing your eyes open. It takes a few moments to gain control of your body, but you’re eventually able to crane your neck towards where the voice had previously echoed from. 

“J-Jesse?” You croak. 

“Yeah. I’m here, bud.” Your raven-haired friend smiles. 

You spot him to your left, sitting in, what appears to be, an uncomfortable armchair. He wore a blue disposable mask over his nose and mouth, his hair looking unkempt and unshowered, and you notice how his clothes look wrinkled and slept in. 

“What happened? Are you alright? What’s going on?” You groggily inquire. 

“You’re the one all strapped to a hospital bed, but you’re asking me if I’m okay?” 

Jesse takes your hand and squeezes it appreciatively. He flashes you a soft, warm smile. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks. 

“I-I’m not sure…” You admit. “What… what the hell happened?” 

“Well,” Jesse starts slowly. “You went on a date with Anderson to Orchards yesterday. At the end of it, you were being a total dummy and made out with her after she ate a whole plate of shrimp.” 

“N-no, no,” You interrupt, scrunching your face up as you try to recall the previous day’s events. “She ate this whole soup thing for dinner. Some weird French dish with some weird-sounding name.” 

“Bouillabaisse,” Jesse clarifies. “It’s a fish soup. It doesn’t always have shellfish in it, but hers apparently did.” 

You groan. 

“Oh, I am such a dumbass.” 

“Please explain to me exactly how you were being a dumbass in this situation.” 

“You literally just said that I was a dummy!” 

“That was Jesse of the past. I’m a much more mature man now in my old age.” 

You attempt to smack his arm, but he’s saved by the many coils of IVs attached to you, pulling your hand back. 

As he playfully rebukes you for attempted physical abuse, another person enters the room. A kind-looking nurse walks in with a clipboard in hand. Wearing dark blue scrubs, a low ponytail, and a surgical mask, she greets you with a friendly wave. She approaches your bedside opposite Jesse, and her glasses-covered eyes indicate a friendly smile. 

“Hi there,” She nods. “My name is Yoojin. I’m your nurse today. I’m so sorry for not being here when you woke up. I had to step out for a few seconds, but your brother here assured me that you were in capable hands.” 

You turn to Jesse and mouth in amusement, “Brother?” 

He suppresses a laugh. 

“Later.” He whispers through his mask. 

You turn to Yoojin with a small grin. 

“No worries. I only just woke up now.” You assure. 

She gives you, what you assume, is another smile under her mask. 

“So how are you feeling?” 

Jesse remained by your side the entire time, only leaving briefly when he needed to use the bathroom or take a call. He sympathized with your gripes about being bedridden, making lighthearted jokes about your catheter, messing around with the IPC devices off your legs over and over until a nurse came in and kindly asked him to stop. 

The TV in your room wasn’t working, so he kept you entertained, cracking his usual dad jokes and telling some old stories of Jackson you hadn’t heard yet. You pretended not to notice that the anecdotes he’d recall always excluded an essential person in his childhood, and you tried your best not to remark on it. 

After a couple of hours, Dina finally came around to visit. She walks in as you’re berating Jesse for stealing a fruit cup you knew you weren’t going to eat. The sight of her immediately warms your heart. 

“Dina!” You exclaim. “Oh, I missed you.” 

Dina sets her bag down next to Jesse, lowers her face mask for a moment to give him a quick peck on the cheek, and pulls up a chair next to him. She takes your hand and beams at you graciously. You notice that her eyes are slightly glassy. 

“Oh, babe,” She sighs. “I missed you too. Sorry that I’m just getting here. Had to deal with a few things before I came over.” 

“Don’t apologize, D. I’m just glad to see you.” 

She squeezes your hand softly. 

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” She gulps. “You worried us so much.” 

“Sorry about that,” You grin sheepishly. “I was being a bit of a dummy.” 

Dina blinks for a moment before giving Jesse a smack on the back of his head at this. 

“Oy vey. You asshole.” She chides knowingly. 

“Hey! No need to abuse me! I’m delicate.” 

He caresses the spot where she hit him as you laugh heartily. 

The couple recounts the events of last night for you, explaining in detail as much as they know. You listen without interruption until they reach the topic of your EpiPen. 

“But how’d you guys get to my EpiPen so quickly? Did you pass by my apartment?” You ask them curiously. “I don’t mind if you guys did! It’s just not that close to the restaurant. Wouldn’t have made much sense to book it back to my apartment, honestly.” 

Dina and Jesse share a look you don’t understand. Your eyebrows furrow, confused by their hesitation. Eventually, Dina responds. 

“Uh, well…” She begins slowly. “Jesse actually happened to have a spare EpiPen at his place. Thank god, right?” 

“You did?” You turn your head towards Jesse. “I didn’t even know you had one, Jesse.” 

“Y-yeah,” Dina continues cautiously as you notice Jesse’s expression shift to a poker face. “He used to have an, uh, egg allergy growing up.” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. 

“Yup,” Jesse chimes in. “I grew out of it when I was in high school. But my mom still insists that I have an EpiPen on me. Just in case.” 

You continue to look completely discombobulated. You don’t fully buy their story, especially since neither were looking you directly in the face. But you’ve always trusted Dina as a sister and Jesse like a brother, so you half-heartedly accept the tale they’ve decided to present you with. 

“Oh, okay,” You say, slightly unconvinced. “Well, thank god for that, I guess. Is it okay that you used it on me, though? What if you suddenly need it again?” 

“No worries,” Jesse assures you. “I’ll call my mom and ask her to send me a new one.” 

His poker face improves, so you concede for now. 

The couple continue to recount the previous day’s events until they eventually catch up to the present. 

“Only family is technically allowed to visit you in the ICU,” Dina confesses at one point. “Jesse had to say he’s your brother to get past the nurses' station. The nurse manning the desk at the time could definitely tell we were lying, but she was really nice and allowed it anyway.” 

“Oh, gotcha,” You say. “Well, you’re basically my brother, anyway.” 

“You should feel so lucky to share the same genes as me.” He boasts, stealthily avoiding yet another smack from Dina. 

“What about you, D?” You ask, turning towards her. “What did you say you were? My sister?” 

“Nah, I didn’t wanna be siblings with Jesse, even just as pretend.” She grimaces. 

“Okay, yeah, didn’t think of that,” You realize, scrunching up your nose in total disgust at the thought. “Gross.” 

“Wouldn’t be able to get that image out of my head.” Dina shudders. “Anyway, I told them that I’m your life partner.” 

“My what?” You giggle. 

“Hey, it counts!” Dina defends. “Well, kind of. The nurse had to list me as your ‘spouse’ instead, which feels like a hate crime.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You laugh as Jesse chuckles. 

“What? You don’t wanna be married to me?” Dina asks in mocking shock and offense. 

“I am absolutely honoured to be married to you,” You assure her. “I’m just worried about poor Jesse. How in the world are we supposed to break it to him that we’ve actually been married for over ten years?” 

“Oh, please, Jesse’s known from the start that he’s always just been a side piece.” 

“Hey!” Jesse interjects in indignance. “I’m right here.” 

“Be quiet, side piece. The wife and I are speaking.” Dina waves him off. 

You burst out into laughter at Jesse’s playfully hurt expression. 

The three of you discuss what the doctors have told you, and you eventually bring up the conditions required of you to be discharged. 

“I know that the doctors and nurses saved my life and whatever. And of course, I’m very grateful. And I truly do not mean any disrespect,” You say. “But I want to get the fuck out of here, uhh, right fucking now.” 

Dina smiles and Jesse chuckles. 

“I know, babe.” Dina sympathizes. 

“You’ll be out sooner than you know, bud,” Jesse adds. “Don’t stress over it. We’ll get you out as soon as possible.” 

“Oh!” Dina suddenly pipes up and reaches into her bag. “I can’t believe I forgot. I brought your phone. I was able to grab your purse for you before the paramedics took you away. I turned it off and charged it at home, so it should have some juice.” 

She places your phone in your hand, and you flash her a grateful smile. 

“D, you need to be canonized for your good deeds, I swear. With a statue and everything.” 

“Oh, I know,” Dina smirks. “Brought your wallet too. Not sure if you wanna keep it here or bring it back to your apartment, though.” 

“I’ll ask them if I can keep it here with me.” 

A thought suddenly hits you. 

“I’ll… I’ll have to figure out how to pay for all this when I get out.” You sigh. 

“Oh, babe,” Dina says reassuringly. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. Just focus on resting, okay?” 

“Your insurance will hopefully take care of a huge chunk of it,” Jesse contemplates. “It’s through your dad, right?” 

“That’s what I’m worried about,” You say as your hands begin to fidget anxiously. “Something as big as this, they’ll probably contact my parents. I… I can’t let them know I’m in here. I know it’ll start shit and… I just know it won’t be good.” 

The couple give you identical, concerned looks. 

“D-do they know? Th-that I’m in here?” You ask timidly. 

“Not that we know,” Jesse replies. “Neither of them is on your emergency contact list. And you know that Dina and I would never speak to either of them. Unless it’s to tell them to shove a stick up their respective asses.” 

You and Dina giggle. 

“Speaking of which,” Dina adds. “You can ask your uncle. I called him yesterday while you were still out. I hope that’s alright.” 

“Oh, that was so thoughtful of you,” You say gratefully. “What did he say? I hope he didn’t worry too much.” 

“Honey, you almost died. Of course, he’s worried. He loves you.” She checks the time on her phone. “He should be arriving sometime later today, actually.” 

“Shit,” You groan. “He didn’t have to do that. He gets so busy with work during this time of the year. This must have been so inconvenient—” 

Jesse suddenly takes his thumb and middle finger and flicks you on the forehead. 

“What the fuck!” You exclaim in indignance, rubbing the spot you were hit, as Dina gives him another hard smack on the head. Jesse ignores you both. 

“You are more important than any goddamn job that exists in the world, in the whole motherfucking galaxy. Your uncle loves you, just as we do. So no more complaining about it, dumbass.” 

You give him a pouty look, but his words fill your heart. 

Your best friends stay the rest of the time until your uncle arrives around midday. Relief and affection overwhelm you when he enters the room. You squeeze him with the tightest embrace you can possibly give for someone essentially strapped to their hospital bed. You ignore the loud beeping resulting from the tangling of your many IV wires. 

After your friends help you unravel all the cords, they gather their things and get up from their chairs. 

“We’ll let you guys talk.” Jesse says, offering his seat to your uncle. 

“Oh, you don’t have to leave.” Your uncle graciously assures them. 

“It’s alright; have some family time,” Jesse insists kindly. “I’m pretty sure she can only have two visitors at a time, anyway.” 

The couple make their way towards the sliding glass door. 

“I cannot express how grateful I am for you two,” Your uncle says before they exit. “Thank you for saving her life. And thank you for keeping me in the loop.” 

“Please, no need to thank us, really.” Dina nods kindly. “She’s family. We would do absolutely anything for her.” 

“That means you’re both family to me too.” Your uncle concludes. “Thank you.” 

You hold back tears of vast emotion from three of the most important people in your life exchanging such caring sentiments. You’ve never felt luckier. 

“We’ll be in the waiting room,” Jesse promises. “Let us know if either of you needs anything, okay?” 

Jesse and Dina take their leave, and your uncle subsequently takes a seat next to you. 

“Oh, Uncle,” You start before he can speak. “I’m so, so sorry. You shouldn’t have flown all this way. I can’t believe I was so stupid to have—” 

“Hey, hey,” Your uncle interjects. “None of that. You have no reason to be sorry. You needed me, so I’m here. I’m not mad, and this is not your fault.” 

Tears form in the corners of your eyes. 

“I just feel like I’ve inconvenienced so many people. If I could have just paid attention…” You lament. “And now I’ve totally made you drop everything to be here. I know you’ve still got work—” 

“You are a thousand times more important than my job, sweetheart.” He shakes his head and squeezes your hand, echoing Jesse’s previous words. 

“But…” 

“You are my family. Nothing is more important than that.” 

You smile at his adamancy. 

“And especially since losing Rafael,” He continues. “I think of you as my own.” 

“I know, Uncle.” 

You squeeze his hand back in affection. 

“D-did…” You suddenly say. “Did you tell—” 

“No, your mother and father don’t know a thing about this.” He answers insightfully. 

“Thank god.” 

“Did you want me to tell them?” 

You grimace. Your uncle chuckles. 

“I figured as much.” He surmises. 

“I just don’t know how to keep this from them forever, though,” You continue. “They’ll see it through the insurance company. I…” 

“Don’t worry about that. I can talk to the nurses later today before I leave, see if I can pay it in full myself without needing to use your father’s insurance.” 

“Uncle, please. Please don’t do that. This is going to be so costly, and you’ve still got your mortgage and Raf’s leftover student debt—” 

“I just want you to focus on getting better, alright? I don’t want anything else on your plate right now.” 

“Uncle, promise me. Please. Please promise me. Do not spend a single cent on this. I want to do this on my own. I’ll figure it out. Please promise me.” 

He gives you nothing more than a smile in response. 

Your friends and uncle take turns rotating as your company for the rest of the day. They’d only leave your side when the doctors and nurses needed to conduct extensive tests to ensure that you were still stable. You were never on your own for more than a few seconds, your loved ones determined that you not feel alone. 

You’d turned your phone on almost immediately after Dina’d handed it to you. But as a small, gracious gesture of appreciation, you had set it aside to give your visitors your undivided attention for the rest of the day. 

It wasn’t until the evening, when your friends and uncle waved you goodbye as visiting hours ended, that you allowed yourself to finally glance at your notifications. 

Anxiously picking your phone up, the first thought you have is to call Abby. Jesse and Dina had mentioned she was with them in the waiting room the night before. But, like your friends, she was informed that she wasn’t permitted to see you in the ICU as she wasn’t family. Dina and Jesse sent her home with the promise to let her know as soon as possible when you finally woke up and that you were alright. 

You notice that she’d messaged you earlier in the day. But much too embarrassed to face her just yet, you decide instead to first call your old freshman roommate. 

Tara picks up after only two rings, almost as if she’d been waiting by the phone for your call. She greets you with a happy shriek of your full name, an amused giggle escaping your lips as a response to her sudden enthusiasm. 

“Thank fucking god!!! I’ve been waiting all fucking day to hear the sound of your voice!” 

“Umm, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” You reply, smirking. “This is actually Satan, here to leave a message. I’m calling to let you know that I will be collecting your mortal soul sometime during the next 24 hours.” 

“Oh nooooo,” Tara plays along. “What on earth have I done to warrant eternal damnation, Miss Satan?” 

“Not sure if you know, but homosexuality is actually a cardinal sin. And unfortunately, you seem to be a notorious, flaming homosexual. I know, I know; it’s quite disappointing. But alas, I do not make the rules.”  

“But Miss Satan, are you not a homosexual too?” 

“Well, that’s exactly how I know it’s a sin.” 

The two of you crackle at each other’s banter, and you make plans in your head to spend more time with Tara and the rest of the girls after you’re released from the hospital. 

You and Tara chat for a little while about the most mundane things, like her classes the day before and her plans for the weekend. She apologizes for not having more to say and for “being so boring,” but you’re genuinely happy to just hear her prattle off about anything. 

At some point, she hands her phone over to Astrid, who greets you with a similarly delighted shriek that her girlfriend had received you with prior. She gushes over you with love and concern, insisting that she and all the Wilson girls come to visit you as soon as you’re out and adjusted. 

“Tara just about broke down when I told her about it.” She reveals. “She was about to leave for her shift at Ruston’s when Dina called, and I’m pretty sure the whole dorm could hear her sobbing.” 

“What?! I did not!” You hear Tara shout from a short distance. 

“You had so much snot running down from your nose that I just about hosed your face down before you left!” Astrid yells back. 

“Stop telling her that! She doesn’t need to hear all that!!” 

You giggle at the couple’s repartee. 

“Anyway,” Astrid continues. “Kris, Sid, and I tried to come down for a visit, but they apparently only let family in. Jesse and Dina seemed to have monopolized the fake roles of being your family already.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that, Addy.” 

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” She brushes off. “I’m just glad that you haven’t been alone there. Those two really care about you, you know.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Dina started to make a whole fuss when they wouldn’t let us past,” Astrid continues. “Threatened to sue the nurses, all the doctors, the entire hospital. The receptionist nurse didn’t even get a chance to kick her out ‘cause Jesse himself forced her to go leave and take a walk to calm down. I don’t think she came back until a couple of hours later.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like our Dina.” You snort. 

The two of you discuss what you’d like to do whenever you finally get released, Astrid swearing to get you out of your apartment nearly every day after your discharge. 

“I don’t think I have all the stamina for all that, babe.” You chuckle. 

“Then you better get yourself to the gym with Jesse, and build that stamina the fuck up! I want your sexy self at parties and clubs, living your best 20s life with us!” 

You chuckle warily at this, simultaneously pushing away the reminder of who Jesse’s daily workout partner is. 

After saying your goodbyes to Tara and Astrid, you make brief calls to the rest of the girls of the Wilson Crew. They all answer your calls with an assortment of jubilant greetings, each girl expressing their elation and gratefulness that you’re finally awake and safe. 

You send individual texts of love to Dina, Jesse, and your uncle, thanking them extensively for coming to your aid and expressing your excitement to see them again very soon. 

Having done your rounds of gratitude, you finally acknowledge that you can no longer ignore the unread texts of the blonde-braided woman you’d had your near-fatal dinner with. You open up your message thread with Abby to see that she’d sent you only three texts earlier in the day. 

You stare at her text. 

Oh. Huh. 

No part of you blamed Abby for the incident; in fact, you’d been feeling a tremendous amount of remorse for putting her through such a traumatizing and jarring ordeal. It had been plaguing you so much since you woke up that you were far too embarrassed to ask Jesse and Dina more about her. 

But something about her texts bothers you. There was very little warmth and familiarity in her messages. Her words didn’t seem that of the woman who had been walking you to your classes every day, who showed you off to her friends at the Bow and the Arrow, who treated you to a lavish restaurant on a fancy date. Who kissed you with so much passion on the sidewalk of that same restaurant the evening before. 

Is… Is she angry with me? 

You continue to stare at her strange messages for several more minutes, unable to process the situation you’re somehow in now. You can’t think of an appropriate response that would lead to something honest, so you decide to put your response off. 

A-at least until after they release me… At least until I get home… 

The doctors only began to discuss the possibility of your discharge early Sunday morning. Though it hadn’t even been a full two days since your admittance, it took everything in you not to practically beg them to let you go. You’d been insisting to anyone who’d listen that you were completely fine, that you’d walk right out yourself if you weren’t strapped to your bed with a million wires. 

It wasn’t until midday, as you were mercilessly beating Jesse’s Shy Guy as Pink Gold Peach in Mario Kart, that Yoojin walked into your room with good news. You don’t notice her at first, too busy taunting Jesse for landing in 7th place while you scored 1st. 

“You only won because I got Lakitu’d in the second lap! Fuckin’ Isabelle was sending red shells at me nonstop…” Jesse gripes. 

“Sucks. Sounds like a personal problem, man.” You shrug. 

“Alright, I want a rematch, but on the Egg course this time.” 

“You’re such a sore fucking loser!” 

“There’s a shortcut on Yoshi’s circuit close to where the finish line is, by the way,” Yoojin interjects, eyes smiling. “If you use a mushroom and drift to the hidden waterfall on the right, it’ll get you pretty far ahead.” 

You and Jesse look up, a bit sheepish at her witnessing your juvenile behaviour. The nurse looks completely unbothered by it, however, and she approaches your bed as you place your controller down. 

“Aww, come on, Yoojin,” You whine. “Don’t tell him that! I’m on a winning streak!” 

“Shh,” Jesse shushes you, attempting to cover your face with one hand. “Don’t listen to her, Yoojin. She’s delirious from all the drugs you’ve been pumping her with. I must know all your secrets, ‘cause I swear, this one is cheating.” 

“Maybe later,” Yoojin laughs as you flick Jesse’s forehead. “Because you might want to hear what your doctor just told me.” 

Your ears perk up at this. 

“I can go home?” 

“Your most recent labs just came back, and everything looks good.” Yoojin nods. “And your vitals have been stable for the last 24 hours. So unless you plan on wolfing down ten pounds of shrimp sometime before leaving, we can get started on getting you released sometime later today.” 

Your face breaks out in a huge smile, and you turn to grasp Jesse’s arm. 

“Dude! I can go home!” You exclaim. 

“Yes, I heard,” Jesse says. You can feel his smirk through his face mask. “Finally.” 

You turn back to Yoojin. 

“I can go right now?” You ask. 

“It’ll take a couple of hours to make sure everything’s set for your discharge,” Yoojin says, chuckling at your eagerness. “But just hang tight, and you’ll be out of here in no time.” 

“Why don’t you guys settle things here while I go tell your uncle?” Jesse offers. 

Your uncle had stepped out to get some lunch at the hospital’s food court not too long ago. He and Jesse had arrived on the dot when visiting hours began earlier in the day. Dina had accompanied them but left shortly after to take care of other obligations, promising to be right back the second she was done. 

“Oh, that’d be great,” You say. “Thanks, Jess.” 

“No worries, bud. I’ll be right back.” 

He gives you a pat on the head before leaving you alone with the nurse. 

“So before you leave, we’ll go over a few things to make sure you don’t suddenly relapse during the next few days,” Yoojin begins. “And we’ll make sure you go home with a couple of new, unexpired EpiPens, just in case.” 

You nod as she goes on to explain the plans for your discharge. You listen attentively, determined not to end up back in the hospital like this again. As Yoojin wraps up, you work yourself up to ask her a question that’s been at the tip of your tongue since the beginning of the conversation. 

“Hey, umm, before you go,” You mutter nervously. “I wanted to ask about how much all of this will cost me. I-I know it’ll be pricey and all, especially with two brand new EpiPens, so I just want to be prepared.” 

“That’s not really something I can help you with,” Yoojin replies apologetically. “That’s the jurisdiction of the hospital’s billing department. But I’m sure you can get it all settled with your insurance after you’ve been released. Depending on what you have, they should cover most of it.” 

You give her a tentative smile as you wring your blanket between your fingers. 

“A-alright then.” You sigh defeatedly. 

It takes about two hours for you to finally be released from all your restraints and another hour until you’re finally walking out of the hospital and into the sunny parking lot. Yoojin allowed you a quick embrace before you left, insisting that you promise to be much more careful from here on out. 

You lean against your uncle and Jesse for support as you exit the hospital’s automatic sliding doors, legs still a little shaky after being bedridden for so long. Dina pulls up next to you in her car and gets out to open the passenger door. 

“M’lady.” She says with a bow, gesturing to the seat. 

“Shut up, D.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. 

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Your uncle inquires. 

“I think so,” You reply. “Didn’t really bring anything with me.” 

“Alright, well, I’ll head to my hotel room first so I can take care of a few things. I’ll meet the three of you at your apartment sometime later today. Sound good?” 

You, Jesse, and Dina all nod in unison. Before he walks away, you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. 

“Thank you so much, Uncle,” You murmur. “It means so much to me that you came.” 

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Anything at all.” 

He gives you a quick squeeze before releasing you, promising he won’t take very long before walking away towards his rental car. 

“So,” Dina chimes. “Wanna grab some gross, greasy non-hospital food on the way home?” 

 When you finally cross the threshold of your apartment, you’d already wolfed down the majority of your fries along with half a chocolate milkshake. You collapse onto your couch with a relieved sigh, your best friends falling next to you on either side. You lean your head onto Dina’s shoulder as you take her hand between both of yours. 

“I think I’m about to go into the world’s longest food coma.” You decree. 

“I’m right alongside you, dude.” Jesse agrees, having devoured one and a half burgers himself on the way. 

“No comas, please, or we’re gonna have to turn right back around and readmit you into that hospital.” Dina says. 

“Never again, please,” You beg. “If I have to hear the nonstop beeping of a heart monitor for one more second, I’m going into straight-up fight-or-flight mode.” 

Your friends chuckle. 

“Alright,” Jesse eventually says as he sits up straighter. “Now that you’ve been freed, what do you want to do first?” 

You hum as you ponder his question. 

“Get so blackout drunk that I totally forget this entire experience ever even happened in the first place?” You offer. 

“Right, well, perhaps we can do something that isn’t completely stupid and detrimental to your health. Especially after you were just in the hospital after almost dying.” Dina retorts. 

You boo her as Jesse chuckles. 

“Well,” You continue. “I guess I should tell the girls I’m finally out. I promised them I would. Or did you guys say anything to them already?” 

“Not yet,” Dina says. “They’ll probably want to hear it from you.” 

You groan. 

“You’re right. Ugh. I don’t think I can handle the sheer amount of screaming and excitement that’ll come with it, though. Kris sounded like she was going to smother me with so much love that I’d suffocate from it.” 

“You can always put it off, at least until tomorrow.” Jesse counters. 

“I guess so. You think they’ll be mad?” 

“Babe,” Dina says, squeezing your hands and rolling her eyes. “You almost died. I think they’ll survive a day.” 

“Alright, alright,” You giggle. “I probably should focus on getting work done before class tomorrow, anyway.” 

“Ma’am, I know you are not thinking of going to your classes right after you were just in the hospital all weekend.” Jesse scolds sternly. 

“I’m fine!” 

“Dear lord.” Jesse sighs, exasperated. 

“Like I said,” Dina repeats. “You almost died. School is not a priority right now. You need to be resting, not writing essays and doing homework.” 

“I don’t want to fall behind!” 

“Didn’t your doctor give you a school note before we left earlier? She said you can give it to your professors to excuse you from your classes this week.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not mandatory or anything. I’m fully recovered now, so it just seems totally unnecessary.” 

“Like hell it is!” Dina bellows before releasing your hands to stand up from the couch. You fall flat on your face onto her spot when her shoulder disappears from under your head, and you muffle irritated curses into the couch cushion. You look up to see she’s disappeared momentarily into your bedroom. 

“D… What are you doing?” 

Dina reemerges after a few seconds, your laptop in her hands. 

“Babe. What’d you get that for?” You ask suspiciously. 

“I’m emailing all of your professors myself to tell them that you will not be attending any of your classes this week. Especially since it seems that you want to be such a stubborn dumbass about it…” Dina says matter-of-factly, shoving your head away from her spot on the couch to sit beside you once more. 

“Never should have given you my password.” You grumble as Dina opens up your laptop and easily bypasses your lockscreen. 

“Alright, who are all your professors again?” She asks, opening up your browser to access your email. 

“I’m not telling you!” You reply stubbornly, crossing your arms. 

“Hmm… I know she’s got Olinick’s double class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Mulligan at least on Mondays—” Jesse lists, counting your professors on one hand. 

“No, no, no, I don’t!” You turn towards him, shoving your hands in his face. 

“—I think Joslin from the English department too, but I can’t remember if that was last year or this year.” 

“Jesse!” 

By the time your uncle arrives at your apartment, you’d conceded to your best friends and allowed them to draft an excuse email to all of your professors. Dina opens the door for him after he knocks while you make final edits to your letters, and he settles into the ratty, secondhand armchair right next to the couch. 

Your uncle chuckles at the scene before him: you with a focused look on your face typing rapidly on your laptop, Jesse leaning back into the couch while gently patting the top of your head as he continued to make suggestions to your email, and DIna taking her seat right back next to you before kicking her feet onto your lap as you lift and place your laptop on top of her legs. It had been a while since your uncle had seen you so relaxed around other people, the last time being right before your freshman year of college. His fondness for your best friends quickly grows by the second. 

You look up from your work for a moment to smile warmly at your uncle, and he returns it with one of his own. 

“Hi, Uncle! Sorry, I’m just finishing up this email to my professors.” 

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. You telling them you won’t be attending any classes this week?” 

“Yup,” Jesse answers for you. “Took a lot of bullying on our part to convince her not to overwork herself with school right now.” 

“This dummy wanted to go back to classes right away as if nothing happened.” Dina rolls her eyes as she extracts a foot from underneath your laptop to kick you softly, earning her a stern “Hey, hey, hey!” from you. 

“Well, thank goodness she has you two to set her straight.” Your uncle chuckles. 

“Oh, she’s absolutely lost without us.” Jesse says, continuing to pat the top of your head. 

Your uncle smiles. He can tell that Jesse’s joking around, but he knows that the couple have both been selflessly keeping you alive for the past few years. 

“So how are you feeling?” Your uncle continues with concern etched on his face. 

“Not so bad,” You admit. “Just so glad to be among civilians once again.” 

You feel Jesse rub your upper back kindly. 

“I’m sure,” Your uncle smiles kindly. “How about we talk about what you’re going to do now that you’re out?” 

The four of you discuss what the next, post-hospital visit steps would be. They remind you of the check-up appointment you have later in the week, caution you once more about what foods you need to constantly be looking out for, and double-check that you have your new EpiPens handy and within constant reach. 

“I still have my current EpiPen in the bathroom,” You say. “It hasn’t lapsed yet. So maybe I can give you each of the ones they sent me home with, if that isn’t too much of an inconvenience to either of you guys?” 

You turn towards Dina then Jesse. 

“You sure?” Jesse asks. 

“Yeah, I mean, I obviously don’t want something like this to happen again. But if, by some hideous trick of fate, I end up in a repeat situation, it might be smart to just have one in multiple places. Just to cover my bases, I guess.” 

“I don’t mind at all,” Dina nods. “As long as you have easy access to one at all times.” 

“Yeah, that was my thinking too,” You agree. “Plus, I don’t want to have to use one of yours again, Jess.” 

“Mm, I guess.” Jesse hums. 

Your eyes meet his and you once again recognize his poker face. 

“That sounds like a good plan,” Your uncle agrees. “Let’s try not to rely on just luck next time around.” 

You give him an apologetic smile. 

The sun had been set for at least an hour when Dina and Jesse finally took their leave. Both offer to stay the night, in case you suddenly need either of them, but you assure them that you’ll survive one night alone just fine. You embrace each of them tightly, putting every ounce of gratitude you have into your hugs. 

You settle back onto the couch after you see them both out the door, and you turn towards your uncle still sitting in the armchair. 

“I know I’ve said this probably a hundred times the past day or so,” You begin. “But thank you for coming, Uncle.” 

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t come,” He replies. “Neither would Raf if he was still around.” 

You both share a sad smile. 

“I miss him, Uncle…” You whisper suddenly. 

“I know. I do too.” 

You sigh before continuing. 

“I wish he was still here. I feel… I feel so incomplete without him around. Like this has all been an awful nightmare that I have yet to wake up from.” 

“I know just what you mean,” Your uncle laments. “But our lives still go on, sweetheart. I think it’d make him sad to see us grieving him for the rest of our lives.” 

“But… it just feels so wrong. It feels so wrong to stop grieving for him, to move on from him.” 

“It’s not exactly moving on from him,” Your uncle ponders. “It’s more like… We make a place for him in our hearts. It’s sort of like he becomes a part of us. He’ll always be in everything we do.” 

Your eyes well up as a childhood memory floods your thoughts. 

When you were eleven years old, you had your first anaphylactic experience. You and Rafael were hanging out at his house, your uncle at work all day. You were making a mess in the kitchen, developing concoctions with half the contents of the pantry. As you were dumping a bag of marshmallows into a blender full of graham crackers and banana slices, Rafael fished an old bag of chips out of one of the cabinets. 

The writing on the bag was all in a language you couldn’t understand, but the superheroes on the front seemed to be enjoying the crunchy snack. Raf was tearing the bag open before your greasy fingers started grabbing at its contents. 

It didn’t even take two minutes until Rafael realized something was wrong. You were annoyed and taken aback when he slapped the chips out of your hand. It wasn’t until he was hauling you to the garage and strapping you into the passenger seat that you began to feel dizzy. By the time Rafael had driven to the emergency room, your skin had broken out into hives and your throat felt completely swollen. The last thing that you remembered before blacking out was your faithful cousin scooping you up and sprinting to the emergency room’s entrance. 

You didn’t hear the end of it from your parents when you’d woken up from being unconscious after a couple of hours. Your mother spared no shame in relentlessly admonishing you, regardless of who was in the room, for your “stupidity.” The doctors and nurses offered you continuous looks of pity as they had to witness your many verbal lashings, though none stepped in to interfere. You were blamed for inconveniencing the family, for forgetting your EpiPen at home, for “forcing” Rafael to drive a car when he didn’t have his driver’s license yet, for obligating your parents to pay for your medical bills. 

From that day on, your fear of your parents’ wrath was far greater than the fear of possibly falling prey to your fatal allergy. 

All that gave you hope was your uncle and cousin coming to your defense. Unlike your parents, they showered you with care and love, especially Rafael who felt guilty and responsible for your admission. They nursed you back to health after you were released, Rafael promising you that he’d never let it happen to you again. 

 “Can I tell you something, Uncle?” You ask. “I didn’t even tell Jesse or Dina this. And I don’t think I ever could.”  

“You never even have to ask, sweetheart. You know you can tell me anything.” 

“I…” You gulp. “There was a point… while I was in the ICU that I was a little lucid for a few moments…” 

You wring your fingers together in uneasiness as you stare down at your lap, unable to meet your uncle’s eyes. 

“I… I didn’t know what was happening to me. I didn’t know I was going through anaphylaxis again. But I just knew… I felt that something was wrong with me.” 

Your uncle listens to you intently, his chin on his hands folded as if he were praying. 

“Something inside me… Somehow, I knew that I was dying,” You continue. “Or I knew that at that moment, I could die. I could keep going… or I could choose to let my body give out completely.” 

You finally meet your uncle’s gaze. 

“And I wanted to. I wanted to just… go,” You confess. “Not in a s-suicidal way. Not exactly, at least.” 

Your eyes fill with thick tears. 

“But… I wanted to be with him again. I knew that if I gave in, if I succumbed to whatever was killing me, I would see him again.” 

Your bottom lip shakes as you continue. 

“I miss him so f-fucking much, Uncle. I don’t know how to go on without him around. I’m so l-lost and confused, and all I want to do is talk to h-him about it. But I can’t. There’s n-nobody else in this world that I’ve ever felt as close to as him. Maybe except—” 

You break off before you can finish, shaking off the memory of ocean green eyes and a constellation of freckles. The look on your uncle’s face tells you that he already knows how your sentence was going to end, but he says nothing. 

“He told me he’d never let anything happen to me. He was always supposed to be here with me,” You sob. “I know that’s selfish. I know that his life didn’t revolve around me. But so much of mine did. I planned… I built my life to always include him. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?” 

Your uncle’s sad eyes watch as you roughly wipe your cheeks of the tears uncontrollably streaming down. 

“Sweetheart…” Your uncle begins as he stands up from the armchair to sit next to you on the couch. “You are not selfish. I know how much he meant to you. How much he still means to you.” 

He takes your hands between his. 

“I just…” You sniffle. “It’s been years. I thought I’d healed from it already. I thought I’d moved past all the pain.” 

“It’s not a continuous thing, dealing with your grief.” Your uncle smiles softly. “You’ll have moments, hard ones where it’ll all feel raw and fresh again. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or selfish. You just have your own way of handling your sadness.” 

You nod in acknowledgement of his words. 

“But I think we both owe it to Raf to live our lives, to be happy without him around,” He continues. “His gift to us was time. Time with him and great memories. Even if he’s no longer with us, we’ll continue to carry that gift with us wherever we go.” 

Your uncle smiles and you return it, though wistfully. 

“I’m very grateful that you trusted me to share this with me,” Your uncle begins. “But don’t be afraid to talk about this with your friends. Especially those two.” 

“Jesse and Dina?” 

He nods. 

“I see just how much they love you,” Your uncle says. “They seem like they would do absolutely anything for you. And I am so grateful that you have people like that in your life.” 

“Yeah, they… mean so much to me.” 

“I’m glad. So, please. If I’m not around, don’t be afraid to confide in those two. I’m sure if the roles were reversed, you’d do the same for them.” 

“I’d do absolutely anything for them.” 

“Exactly. So don’t be afraid to embrace the love in your life. You deserve that. And that’s exactly what Rafael would want for you.” 

You throw your arms around your uncle and sob into his shoulder. 

You and your uncle continue to talk for a while until you realize that it’s nearly midnight. Like your friends, he offers to stay the night in case you need him. But you know his flight home was only in a few short hours, so you insist that he go back to his hotel to get a bit of sleep before he needs to leave for the airport. 

It took everything in you not to beg him to stay, but you couldn’t bear troubling him further. And you longed to finally have some time to yourself, so you put on a brave face.  

After your many assurances that you would take care of yourself better, you walk him to your front door. When you open it up, you both notice a simple brown box with a thin bow placed on top of your doormat. You pick it up, noticing how light it feels in your hands. 

“What is this?” You mutter. 

“You got a package?” Your uncle asks, looking at the box. 

“No… I didn’t order anything.” 

“Strange. Maybe your friends Dina and Jesse left it for you.” He offers. 

“I… I guess,” You frown. “Although, I don’t really know why they wouldn’t just give it to me when they were here earlier.” 

“Hmm, that’s true,” He hums, squinting his eyes at it. “A secret admirer, perhaps?” 

“Ha ha, Uncle. Very funny.” 

You give him an amused grimace before untying the bow and removing the lid. You gasp as you recognize what it contains. 

“Oh…” 

You drop the box and embrace its previous contents. 

“My Barbie Bear…” 

author's notes:

thank y'all so much for you patience waiting for this new chapter to come out. i literally wrote like, half of this while in the psych ward, and that was all the way in decemeber sldkfjlsdk

tbh i meant this chapter to be a lot shorter than it turned out to be but lskdjfs more content for y'all ig!

reader's first words after waking up is inspired by me saying, "i need to poop so bad" when the doctors were busy working on me in the emergency room lmaoooo

silver lining of me being in the icu back in december is being able to describe it in detail in this chapter hehe. being in the icu suuuuucked but mostly cause it was boring and cold and i wasn't allowed to get up to pee!!!

the nurse yoojin is named after one of my nurses while i was in the hospital. i loveddddd her, she was such a sweetheart and it made me so happy whenever she was assigned to me. i was rewatching arcane while i was in the hospital, and she saw and asked me about it, and then we gabbed about the show and league of legends (cause she religiously plays the game but hasn't watched arcane yet), and i eventually convinced her to actually watch the show heeeheee

reader’s uncle saying he sees reader as his own is what uncle iroh says to zuko in atla, fun little easter egg heehee (you know me and my love for easter eggs)

reader greeting tara on the phone as satan was how i first greeted my best friend when i was finally able to call her through the public phone in the psych ward (hi rhi LOL)

pink gold peach is my main in mario kart lol

reader's professors mentioned are all named after old professors from my former college's theatre department (rip dennis, miss you always ❤️)

reader’s uncle telling her “we make a place for him in our hearts” in regards to rafael is what tara in buffy the vampire slayer says to dawn when their mom dies (can you tell i love btvs)

working on the next chapter asap, lmk what you think of this chapter in the meantime!

also i made an ao3, so if you wanna read on there too, check it out!

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[revelboo]

Y’all won. I’m starting to move these over to AO3, but likely won’t update there except weekly. I needed a backup anyway since I type these in my downtime on my phone, these only existed here.

18+ content- mass displaced mech 🌶️

It Had To Be You Pt 9

TFO Megatron x Reader

• That warm haze of rightness is already slipping through your fingers as you come down from the high. Leaving you painfully aware of what you just did. Of the fact his spike is still buried inside you, pulsing with the thrum of his spark as those strong servos flex against your hips. Of your mouth against his neck, that needy flush subdued enough in the aftermath for the horror to kick in. Because no matter how much his confusion had sounded real, this is somehow his fault. Some weird alien thing he did to you to make you act that way, the same thing that causes that desperate need to be near him, touch him. Swearing you push at his chassis, head lifting to find those angry, red optics staring down at you, his jaw clenched. Like he’s as uncomfortable about what you two had just done as you are. “Let me go.”

• He servos flex as you shove at him, that anger back. There’s fear there in your eyes now, too. And that he can understand, you unraveled him with your touch, your taste, your scent. All those things tearing apart his defenses. Weakening him. He should despise you for that. Treat you like the threat you are and dispose of you, but as you try to get free from his grip, moving against him like you are, all he can think of is rutting against you all over again. Pinning you to the wall at your back, he curls a hand against your neck, thumb forcing your head up. And you go still, your pulse a wild thing against his servos as you stare up at him. Kill you or breed you? Remove the threat or claim it wholly, break you until you understand you belong to him? Feeling the wild rhythm of your heart, he knows there’s no being rid of you. You’re his to keep, to breed. To break. “Never, little one,” he growls, hips rocking against you, watching as your eyes slide shut, lips parting. “This is mine.”

• He’s moving again, that spike stroking inside you so slowly you can feel every ridge and bump. And even though you want to push him away, you pull him closer instead, body heating. Needing this. Needing him again. “Not yours,” you manage, legs tightening around him when he snaps his hips in a sharp drive at the rebuke. Even if your body responds with heat and need at his touch, you don’t belong to him. You’re not a thing for him to own. Optics narrowing at you, he begins thrusting faster, the wet sounds mingling with his growling vents. Laying claim to your body, and you can’t stop him. Don’t want him to stop. And he can claim your body, but your heart? That you can protect. It’s only sex. Animal need driving you to move against him, to enjoy the feel of him inside you. To use him to chase your own pleasure.

• Still rebelling against him even as you make those little needy sounds, your body wet and tight as you fist his spike, rocking yourself to meet his thrusts. Using his grip to force your head up so he can claim your mouth again, he growls. Not his? He’s not sure if you’re lying to him or yourself. Groans as he feels you tighten on his spike, sliding his glossa against your tongue when you cry out. Moving faster against you, drawing it out as you writhe against him before burying himself deep, hips rocking as you milk his spike of his release. Nipping at your bottom lip, he smiles as you just press your face against his shoulder, unwilling to meet his optics. Because no matter how much you protest, you’re as powerless to fight this as he is.

Previous

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[yurinaa-world]

Could I request Blade, Welt, and Dan Heng with a who likes drawing and painting them?

"𝓓𝓻𝓪𝔀 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Blade, Welt, & Dan Heng x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who likes drawing and painting them

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling mistakes

💫𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈"

“Could you at least try to smile?”

Your 10th critique about him. You loved drawing him all the time and now you’ve made him into your subject to draw. But you don’t seem happy at all, squinting at him, in hopes that he listens.

“I’m not smiling.” He groans, refusing your demand—honestly, in your eyes, a smile might fix the only atrocious pose he does all the time—arms crossed, while accompanied by a blank-looking face. “Come on! You would look perfect with a smile on your face!” You rebuked. You didn’t bring out all your best supplies just for a basic sketch of him you do all the time! This has to be perfect!

“Hmph.” 

That meant no…

Then you’ll play dirty yourself. 

“I thought you loved me!!” You began to fake cry and looked away to make him feel bad. “If you loved me enough, you would at least smile for me. I’m only painting the man I love dearly out of my free will and time.” Every word you spoke made him out to be a terrible person, and until your last breath, he did not hear the end of it.

“Fine…” 

He had enough of your anger directed towards him, as he sighed, the ends of his lips shakily spreading wide and revealing an ugly and awkward-looking smile—which makes him look like you’ve got him at gunpoint— “Uh, forget I said that, you don’t have to smile,” those words alone leave him instantly frowning and glaring at you.

“I was just joking earlier!”

💫𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒩𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈"

“Are you going to line those sketches?”

You jump the second you hear his voice from behind you, a bit flustered, closing it and pressing your sketchbook right against your chest to hide the drawings of him, though it’s clear he’s already seen it. “Well…Well, I'm not sure yet.” you sputtered, watching him sit beside you while you were embarrassed by the fact he saw your sketches of him.

“Could I see them? Your sketches look beautiful from a distance, you want me to see them, that is.” 

“Uh…” Gazing back at his hopeful eyes while he awaited your answers. It wouldn't be harmful to show him, since already seen everything.

“Uh, sure, they aren’t that good though.” 

Shakily handing him your sketchbook in his, his hands flipping through the pages while looking at every one of your drawings with a distinct eye. It feels like an inspector is looking through them (if you’re being truthful). Watching his expression every time he flipped through a page; nervousness pools its way into your stomach.

“These are incredible, you’ve left me speechless.” Even the way you drew him; made him look far better than he does in person. The way you draw, each pencil stroke having its place when during a messy sketch, your hands are truly gifts.

💫𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔 "𝐼𝓂𝒷𝒾𝒷𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝐿𝓊𝓃𝒶𝑒"

He could feel the tips of his ears go red as he awkwardly posed for your painting. Your detailed gaze looked at him; it felt like you were looking through him. You could even get up to capture a certain detail on his clothes.

Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't notice.

He keeps repeating that phrase in his head. Your fine eyes looking up at him make him freeze even more. You make him feel so see-through as if you were trying to unravel his deepest secrets.

“Dan Heng, inch your head up a little.” you move away from your canvas to look at him, signalling with the tip of your paintbrush in your hands, yet you frown at him when he inches his head a bit too high up, which makes him freeze up—unsure where to move his head.

“A little down,” 

“No, no, that too downwards,”

“Now you're too high again, wait a second.” You sigh, putting down your paintbrush and pallet somewhere off the side, before quickly reaching to his side, gently cupping his chin, and lifting it to your desired height and position. He could feel his sweat dripping down his forehead as you quickly fixed his appearance once again; maybe his ears might go red with the close proximity you have with him.

“There you’re perfect now, Do not keep that position for me please.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[forever-rogue]

Not kissing steve because Mike made a comment about how too much pda is gross and the poor guy is so confused and lost and desperate to kiss you and he asks you sadly whats wrong and tries to fix it. (With lots of make up kisses and steve not caring what Mike says)

AN | No, but I love this idea, especially Mike being a lil shit 🥺

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve Harrington was an affectionate person. He always and more than likely always would be. It was one of the many things that you loved about him; he wasn’t afraid to be outwardly touchy and feely and never missed an opportunity to kiss or hug you, to hold your hand, or just be near you. And you would never, ever, turn down anything from him, even if it was just a simple in passing. 

You never thought much about it, letting it just happen. You were sure that his affections were nothing out of hand but that all changed one afternoon, thanks to Mike Wheeler. The lot of you were at the fair, currently standing in line for some random fried food stand. Steve was standing behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder. You loved the feeling of him being all over you especially as he pressed lazy kisses to your warm, sunkissed skin. 

It wasn’t until you were next in line that Steve let go of you, turning to order for both of you. Mike scoffed and shook his head. You looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “what’s wrong, Mike?”

“You guys are so gross,” he groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically, “you’re always all over each other, just calm down. We get it. You’re madly in love with each other, great, fantastic.”

“Mike,” Dustin smacked his friend, as Max and Lucas were completely oblivious, “maybe you should calm down. Don’t be so jealous. Get over it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mike flipped him off, “I forgot - if Suzy was here, the two of you would be equally disgusting.”

“Maybe you should stop being such a jerk-”

“Boys,” you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head at the kids, “maybe we can all stop being so…over dramatic? It’s all good, okay? We’ll try and tone it down and Mike, you can get the stick out of your ass.”

Mike scowled deeply and Dustin brought into a fit of giggles. He might have called you out, but you had to get him back. 

But  - it was a promise that you intended to keep, but it still managed to bring a small pout to your lips as you looked over at Steve. Ugh. He was so ridiculously handsome, but so easy and effortless and it made your heart swoon. He turned back to you, arms filled with fried goodness and a big smile on his face. You walked over to him, taking a few things in order to free up his hands. 

“Looks disgustingly delicious,” you grinned, “good choices, love.”

Steve nodded happily before leaning over to try and press a kiss to your cheek. You turned your head and quickly dodged the kiss, not saying anything but leaving him with a confused little look on his face, “angel-”

“Come on,” you looped your arm through his and started to lead him to one of the nearby picnic tables. You decided not to mention anything of what Mike had said to Steve, figuring that it would work itself out. Maybe if you toned it down for a few weeks he would eventually take the hint and stop being so outwardly PDA-friendly.

Steve, meanwhile, was trying not to read into anything, more so trying not to freak out at the fact that you had rebuked his kiss. It was the first time you had ever turned down a kiss. But he was sure that it was not something that would keep happening. Right? Right. You were his girl, his honey, his baby, his angel, and you’d never stop loving him. Or so he hoped. Maybe you - no. He was not going to panic or worry too much - it was just one kiss. It would all be fine.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But…it turned out to be more than just one little time. 

You’d started to pull more and more out of being physically affectionate with him. At least in public - behind closed doors things were the same as ever. If anything, you were almost more touchy and lovely when it was just the two of you. It just confused Steve. He was used to being so open with you all the time. 

“Hey honey,” Steve’s face lit up as soon as he spotted you walking into his backyard. You looked more gorgeous than anyone should have been allowed to, and caused some sinful thoughts to run through his head. He had to take a moment to compose himself, trying hard not to…well, get hard. You were wearing a cute little pink polka dot two piece, and he couldn’t wait to be alone and rip it off you. The little bow holding it together in the front of your cleavage was practically taunting him; you were like a present waiting to be unwrapped, “you look gorgeous.”

“Hi Stevie,” you smiled softly at your boyfriend, admiring him in his trunks, so much of his warm, golden skin on display. You loved all of his freckles and couldn’t wait to map them all out later with your mouth, “you look good too, handsome.”

He practically melted under your praise as you reached over and took it hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You were fashionably late - you could thank your coworkers for that - and the last one there. But you were happy to see your friends. You knew that Steve was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to kiss him, or letting yourself be kissed by him. If he hadn’t been so attuned to you, or paid as close attention as he did, he would have missed the way you looked around nervously.

“Everything alright?” there was a note of concern in his voice as you looked back at him and shook your head, “you seem…”

Off. Different. Not wanting to touch me.

“‘m alright,” you promised and for the briefest of seconds, you reached up and touched his cheek, “do you need a hand with the food or anything?”

“No,” he shook his head lightly, disappointed but also not pushing the fact that you didn’t kiss him, “I’ve got it. Just relax and enjoy yourself, angel. Y-you’re still planning on staying tonight, right?”

“Of course,” you insisted happily, “wouldn’t miss a night with you, my love.”

“Good,” he nodded, almost more to himself than anything. He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, “I’m glad. I love it when you’re here. I love spending any time with you.”

“Me too,” you smiled sweetly. You grinned when you saw Robin and Nancy excitedly waving you over. You gave Steve a small shrug as if to say what can you do before heading over to him. He’d half expected a kiss but there was no such luck.

A deep, pretty little pout settled on his features as he watched you go. It was not lost on Eddie, who definitely teased him about him for the rest of the afternoon. All he wanted was a little kiss. Was that too much to ask for?!

-─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And so it continued on, and it almost became normal that you weren’t going to let him be any sort of physically affectionate with you. It was slowly starting to wear on him; he loved you, adored you behind words, but he really just wanted to touch you. It wasn’t even anything inherently sexual, it was the sheer intimacy of being close to you and getting to feel the gentle delicateness of your soft skin on his, or to be blessed with the grace of your lips. 

But now, as the gang hung out at Phyllis’ diner, taking up two booths between you guys and the younger kids. You were next to Steve, as per usual….but you were sitting next to him as one would sit next to a friend, not a lover. You were normally tucked up into his side, thigh pressed against his, hands entwined or your head on his shoulder as you stole sweet, syrupy kisses from each other.

This evening, however, you simply sat next to him, keeping a little bit of distance between your bodies. He didn’t even try to argue or even mention it, instead taking it for what it was. You were spending the night at his place, as you did weekends, and he decided that he was going to ask you about what - or hadn’t - been going on lately. He was your boyfriend, your partner, you should have been able to tell him anything. And clearly right now, there was something going on. Steve was determined to get to the root of it…if nothing else, he wanted to make sure that you were okay. 

-─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Stevie,” you sighed his name softly as you flopped onto his warm, comfy bed. There was a big smile on your face as you stretched out and burrowed your face into his pillow, “this might be my favorite spot in the entire world.”

“You look like you belong there,” he agreed softly as he sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching over and gently tugging on the hem of your dress. You often wore sweet little dresses, and they always managed to drive him crazy. It was something so simple but so innocently sinful, “you do belong there.”

“That’s because I belong to you,” you reached for his hand and gently tugged him towards you. He obliged your silent request, not wasting a moment before crawling next to you, laying down, his head just across the pillow from yours. You couldn’t help but reach over, touching his freckles with the tips of your fingers, “I love you, Steve Harrington.”

His entire being softened, big brown eyes gentle as he watched you. He swallowed thickly before taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. He listened to the way you softly inhaled at the feeling of his lips on your skin. A quiet fell over the two of you, as he ghosted his fingers along your features. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” you giggled lightly, “you’re the only one that gets to ask me anything, my love. What can I do for you?”

“Are we…are we okay?” he whispered so softly that you almost didn’t hear him. A frown tugged down the corners of your mouth as you tried to figure out where he could have gotten the slightest inkling that things weren’t okay.

“Of course we are,” you insisted, nodding your head fervently, “where did you get the idea that we weren’t?”

“I just…things have been different,” he pointed out and Steve could tell by the way your face fell that you knew exactly what he was talking about. You swallowed thickly but shook your head, “you can tell me anything. You know that - anything.”

“Nothing is…” you stopped yourself, unable to lie to him. You shifted so you were sitting up and Steve mirrored your gesture and sat there facing you. You sighed before hanging your head, “it….it was Mike.” 

“Mike?” he repeated in shock as you simply nodded at him, “what the hell did he do?”

“Nothing bad,” you put your hand on his arm and shook your head, trying to dispel any negative thoughts, “back at the fair, he made a few comments about PDA and basically…us. Us being too touchy and feely and open in public. He thought it was gross and I…I dunno it just kind of stuck with me.”

“That’s what…” he couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up as he shook his head, somewhere between amusement and annoyance, “you’ve avoided kissing me or letting me touch you in public because of the kid?!”

“When you say it like that…” you met his eye and couldn’t help but laugh too. It hadn’t seemed so irrational and weird at the time. Now it really seemed silly, “it didn’t seem bad at the time!”

“Baby, you’ve been practically killing me,” your boyfriend groaned playfully as you just shrugged sheepishly, “you wouldn’t even let me hold your hand! You denied me my kisses! I thought I might die.”

“Stevie,” you were both laughing now. His large hands found purchase on your waist as he pulled you into his lap. You made a small sound that went straight to his heart as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “you’re so dramatic!”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, “tell me it wasn’t hard to keep your hands off me.”

You couldn’t even lie or argue, instead giving in by softly pressing your lips against his. He practically sighed into your touch as he melted, kissing you just as softly and reverently. You pulled back, gently carding a hand through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, “it was hard for me too.”

“Then let’s stop,” he suggested coquettishly, “and never not touch each other again. Whaddaya say, angel?”

“Yes,” you laid back against his pillow and pulled him on top of you, “and now, my love, please, please, please touch me. All over, as much as you want, but don’t ever stop.”

“I can do that,” he was practically melting as you stole some soft kisses from him, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Steve,” you grinned, “now please touch me!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were the last to arrive at the game at the Wheelers’ house, having no one to blame but yourself. You’d taken too long getting ready, and lost track of time. But you looked very pretty, thank you very much, so it was all worth it. You let yourself into the Wheeler home, hearing the excited chatter and laughter from your friends. 

“Hello!” you greeted excitedly as you walked inside, met with happy waves…and then almost tackled by your overly enthusiastic boyfriend. He wrapped you up in a tight hug, twirling you around before kissing you softly. You beamed at the boy, wondering why on earth you’d ever willingly rejected this display of affection before.

“My angel,” he whispered against your lips, so soft and gentle, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you promised, “and it’s only been like…twelve hours.”

“Doesn’t matter,” his hand found the side of your neck, his thumb gently brushing along your soft skin, “I’d miss you even if it was only an hour.”

“Ugh, stop being so perfect,” you playfully groaned. But you meant it - Steve really was a wonderful man, golden hearted and loving and you couldn’t imagine life without him, “if I loved you anymore, I’d probably explode from love and happiness and sweetness.”

“It’s just because I love you,” he pecked your lips before you both heard a loud throat clear from the living room. You pulled apart and turned to find Mike Wheeler standing there and looking between the two of you. He shook his head, but you could see that a small smile was playing on his features. 

“If you lovebirds are done, we’re about to start monopoly!” he motioned with his head for the two of you to join the rest of them. He paused for a moment, “it’s still disgusting! But it’s kind of cute how in love the two of you are.”

And with that, the boy turned around to join the others as you laughed quietly. Steve’s cheeks were a pretty pastel pink as he cleared his throat, “you’re in love with me, huh?”

“Duh, Stevie,” you grinned, “are you in love with me?”

“Duh,” he teased softly as he took your hand in his and you were practically glowing, “more than you’ll ever know, angel.”

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Snowdrop part.2

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Description: Taken by the handmaiden who seems to haunt the library of Dragonstone, Jacaerys offers her free reign of the books and his hand in friendship. When an incident with Daemon prompts a protective streak in Jacaerys, the prince realises that he feels more than just friendship for the lovely handmaiden.

Part 1

Writer's note: so sorry for the delay with getting the second part out. There's 8 more parts written so far and I'm still writing so expect daily drops. Hope you enjoy :) Thank you so much to @callsigncrushx for the love. This one's for you!

Warnings: female reader. Nothing else.

Running from the library as fast as she could, with a frantically beating heart at her interaction with the Prince, Y/N did not turn around before vacating the room, or she would have seen the Prince staring after her, a soft expression on his face. Not stopping in her flight until she reached the servants' quarters at the lower levels of Dragonstone, she slid down the door once safely in her own room, her hand pressed to her chest to calm her wildly beating heart.

She mentally rebuked herself for having been so foolish as to disturb the Prince before he had finished using the library. Her face grew hot at the memory of her flustered response to his kind offer for her to make use of the library. She had little expected to receive such kindness from one so far above her station, even from one who had already proven himself to be a true Prince, in every sense of the word. Her regard for him had begun when she had noticed how he treated all members of the Queen's household with respect, regardless of their social status, always offering the household staff, thanks for their ministrations, and nodding politely to them. On one occasion, when Y/N had been clearing Rhaenyra's chambers as the Queen joked with her son about the antics of a bannerman, Y/N was unable to suppress her quiet laughter at Prince Jacaerys' equation of the bannerman to a sycophantic weasel. She quickly covered her mouth, fearing that there would be repercussions for her having been caught listening into the conversation of the royals. Hesitantly looking over at the Prince, she was surprised to see his face alight in a gentle smile, almost as if he was pleased to have made her laugh, before he turned back to his mother. His kindness to her, always acknowledging her and the other servants, and intervening to defend her from a bannerman, had not prepared her for this additional kindness towards herself. Not only this, but he had addressed her as if she were a lady belonging to his station and had looked so genuinely contrite at having startled her. The thought of such gentleness being directed towards her from a Prince of the realm had her heart rate accelerating from something other than her frantic flight from the library. Remembering her abrupt departure, she pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes, embarrassed at her response to his kind gesture. What must he think of her?

She pressed her hands more roughly to her eyes at the Prince's mistaken assumption that it was only her interest in the books that had her returning to the library every night. She could only hope that he was not aware that she had returned so many nights when he was making use of the library, or that it was her foolish admiration of him that was the primary cause. Her mother was right to attempt to temper her fascination with Princes and Princesses at an early age and she resolved to act on such wise counsel now and not return to the library again, unless it was for the express purpose of cleaning it. She would not disturb the Prince again, or open herself up to the embarassment of him discovering her misplaced interest in him. It was bad enough that the other maids were aware of it and were vocal in chiding her for it, having noticed how her eyes followed him whenever they could.

It was several days before Jacaerys saw the maid who had caught his interest again. Whilst he had continued to leave his books open upon vacating the library, knowing that they would be of interest to her, he had not seen her appear to read them, as he had waited a few moments behind the library door in anticipation of her entrance. Sitting at an oak desk, the light from his candle casting a shadow across the page of his book on the reign of Jahaerys and Alysanne, which he had purposely chosen, since the maid had seemed to take such an interest in their reign in particular, a frown made its way onto his features. He began to grow concerned that his abrupt approach towards her upon their last meeting had frightened her too much to return to the library and accede to his offer for her to make use of the books therein. The thought distressed him more than it should have done, and he could not discern why. Perhaps it was because he hoped to rule, as his mother would, without inciting fear. His features resolved into a look of determination as he rose from the table, book in hand, and began to collect a few more volumes, before striding purposefully from the room, in the direction of the servants' quarters.

A knock at the door and a slip of paper rustling underneath it at the hour of the bat, had Y/N hesitantly rising from her bed. Upon opening the door, she did not find the person who had knocked outside, instead she found a neat pile of old books upon the flagstone floor and a note. Retrieving the books and the note, she looked down both sides of the hallway but saw no evidence of there having been another person, just the faint crackle of the lit torches hanging from the walls. Quietly returning to her room and closing the door after her, she opened the note first.

My Lady,

Following my abrupt interruption of you a few nights ago, I feared that I may have startled you out of making use of the library. Please accept my humble apologies, should such be the case. Anticipating that this should be the reason for your continued absence from the library, I have selected a few volumes which I hope should be of interest to you. I do hope to see you make use of the library in future. I should be most happy to hear your thoughts on what you have read.

Most faithfully,

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon

After finding out which room belonged to his pretty, curious maid, he deposited the books and his note, gently knocking upon her door before swiftly retreating behind the cover of the nearest wall. The door creaked open a moment later and the lady emerged, looking quizzically up and down the hallway before she spotted the pile of books on the floor. He watched in fascination, holding his breath both in anticipation of her reaction to his offering and to conceal his hiding spot. A small smile formed on his face as he watched her face light up at the book he had been reading but an hour before, on the reign of Jahaerys and Alysanne. He had counted on that particular volume piquing her interest and was pleased to have been proven right. Waiting until she had retreated back into her room and closed the door softly behind her, he quietly turned down the hallway to ascend to the higher levels of Dragonstone, his thoughts preoccupied with what she would think of the books and whether they would coax her into returning to the library.

Jacaerys began to grow disheartened as days passed and the maid continued to not only remain absent from the library but also to avoid him wherever possible elsewhere in the castle. Where he had been used to seeing her as they crossed paths down a hallway or she entered a room to arrange it, she had managed to elude him for days now. This was in spite of him continuing to leave books outside her door that he hoped would interest her. He began to grow truly fearful that he had managed to frighten her so effectually as for her to avoid him as best she could. The thought of such a sweet, quiet lady being afraid or distrustful of him greatly concerned him. He could not deny that he had also been eagerly anticipating her return to the library, so that he might discuss the books with her and find out more about her, personally. It was with these troubling thoughts oppressing him as he walked down the dark, stone-paved walls of Dragonstone that he turned the corner, only for the very same maid who had been so occupying his thoughts to crash into him. Quickly raising his arms out to catch her upper arms gently in his hands and prevent her from falling, he lowered his head to assess whether she was harmed by the collision, only to become even more shocked and alarmed at the sight of tears streaming down her face, accompanied by her sharp intakes of breath. Before he could ask what had befallen her and whether he could be of assistance, she pushed herself away from his hold, bowing her head low.

"Apologies, my Prince." She had barely stuttered these words out before she turned to flee around him, a movement which he quickly arrested by holding her elbow in his hand.

Speaking lowly and gently so as not to alarm her further, he began to question her to see what had been the cause of her distress.

"What is it that has so frightened you. I am your Prince and I ask that you answer me truthfully. I cannot be of service to you if I do not know the cause of your distress."

Looking up at him hesitantly, she stammered out her response.

"I am just being silly, I apologise for troubling you with it my Prince. Prince Daemon was angered by a Lord and threw something in my direction. I'm afraid to say that it startled me. My apologies."

He did not interrupt her as she explained the reason for her flight but he found himself struggling to restrain his anger at Daemon's cruelty, particularly towards someone so quiet and gentle who he found himself wanting to protect.

"It is no trouble. Thank you for telling me. It was not your fault and I would not have you distress yourself further. Are you harmed?"

As he said this, his eyes surveyed her form, seeking to ascertain any evidence of injury that she was unwilling to inform him of, but stopped immediately when his appraisal seemed to make her uncomfortable.

Shaking her head jerkily, still trembling, he noted with barely suppressed anger, he could see that she was desperate to depart. He would not keep her here for a moment longer if his presence was proving equally distressing to her, though it stung him in a way he couldn't yet fully explain to himself. Sighing, he released her elbow and stepped aside, bowing his head deferentially.

"You are free to depart, should you wish to. Do not be distressed further, I will speak to Prince Daemon. You need not enter his chambers from now on. Come to me should he give you any further cause for alarm. Your Prince would serve you as well as you do him."

He said this gently and cautiously, as if approaching a startled deer, but was still dejected to see her nod shakily, tears still glistening in her eyes as she turned and ran from him.

He watched her until he could no longer see her. Turning back in the direction he had seen her run from, his face darkened as he resolved to do what he had just promised her. He would deal with Daemon.

A goblet clattering against the wall beside his ear had Daemon looking up in alarm, coming face to face with the enraged expression of his step son, Prince Jacaerys.

"Did I startle you, Daemon? I wonder how much more you startled the young girl you sent fleeing from your company with your brutish behaviour."

His back held in tension, he approached Daemon with confident strides as he ordered the rest of his mother's Council to clear the room.

The unaccountable absence of his mother from these council discussions over the last few days had given Daemon a concerning degree of license, something Prince Jaecerys was determined to constrain. If not only to uphold his mother's authority in her absence, then to defend those who served her. He held the thought of the tear-stained face of the maid in the forefront of his mind as he approached his step father. He would not allow him to use his authority to abuse those weaker or more vulnerable than himself. He was incensed at Daemon's cruelty towards such a sweet and quiet girl who he knew, from making his enquiries, had travelled to Dragonstone to serve the true Queen, at great personal risk. Her attempt to conceal the reason for her distress and her respectful tone towards Daemon, in spite of his behaviour, only strengthened his determination to defend one who could not defend herself against one in a position of power over her.

This would not be the first time Daemon's cruelty towards women had been a point of contention between them both. The young Prince would never forgive him for his refusal to go to his mother when she was in the throes of labour pain. He could never be so callous to his future wife; he would have gone immediately to her. He found the thought of ignoring the cries of pain of a loved one untenable, even as the sight of his mother in so much pain was almost impossible for him to endure. Endure it, he did, however, since his mother was courageously enduring so much more. Even if he could not help her in her pain, he could yet hope to offer her comfort and support.

Daemon's expression conveyed surprise at the Prince's uncharacteristic display of anger, but he could not deny that he was also impressed at his bravery in confronting him, where few others were willing to do so. Even if he was doing so under some misguided, philanthropic desire to protect a servant girl.

"All this over a mere servant girl. The goblet barely hit her, she shouldn't have taken so long about her work."

Anger rose forth in Jacaerys' chest as he realised that Daemon had, in fact, assaulted the girl, and that she had been either too afraid or too polite to reveal that to him.

"What kind of a coward strikes a girl, unable to defend herself, in anger at something a bannerman said!" He almost spat the words in his fury.

To the Prince's frustration, Daemon only met his rebuke with a condescending smile.

"Have you begotten a child with this maid for you to assume a role as her protector?"

Jacaerys advanced towards Daemon, holding the hilt of his sword, a surge of anger brimming forth in his chest.

"I dare you to say that again. I will not have you cast aspersions on a lady's character because I have chosen to uphold the duties belonging to a Prince, where you continue to flout them. A Prince of the realm should protect his subjects, not threaten them with violence when they only serve him."

Daemon glowered at him, surprised at the intensity of his anger.

"Be careful how you address your King, boy"

Squaring up to Daemon so that they were chest to chest, Jacaerys did not falter in his anger at the dangerous tone of Daemon's retort.

"I see no King here, only a coward who abuses his authority by assaulting girls who cannot defend themselves against his brutality. The only authority I will bend the knee to is that of my mother's, the true Queen."

Refusing to back down, as Daemon continued to stare at him with storm clouds in his eyes, Prince Jacaerys continued.

"I will beg you to remember your manners and your position, Prince consort," he returned, placing particular emphasis on that last word, "and to grant the members of the Queen's household the respect owing to those serving the true sovereign."

When Daemon did not respond, and only continued to glower at him, he turned on his heel, his crimson cloak whipping behind him as he stormed down the halls of the castle towards his own chambers. Several emotions flickered behind his eyes, which glittered under the light cast by the torches suspended from the walls of Dragonstone by dragon shaped sconces. After he had proceeded a few strides through the halls that led to the royal apartments, shaped as they were like the mouth of a dragon, he paused. A look of determination fixed upon his features as he turned and began striding swiftly in the direction of the Windwyrn tower, which he knew Y/N would normally be tending to at this point in the day. He had to see that she was well, following Daemon's revelation that he had, in fact, struck her. He could not remove the image of her distress from his mind until he could reassure himself that she was better.

After her encounter with Jacaerys in the hallway, Y/N hurried along the passageways to perform her cleaning duties in the Windwyrn tower, trying to calm her frantically beating heart and the throbbing in her head from where the goblet had glanced off it. As she had vacated Daemon's chambers, she had pulled her hair down to cover the cut and the bruise forming where Daemon had struck her, but she still felt the impact of the blow. The Prince Jacaerys' kind concern for her condition had her heart fluttering but she was also embarrassed for having appeared in such a state before him for a second time. He was a Prince of the Realm and had far more important matters of state to be concerned with than with her; it was not for him to shield her from the insults that women in her social caste were wont to receive from men of Court. Nonetheless, a warm feeling grew inside her heart at the thought of the concern she had perceived behind the Prince's brown eyes, and the gentle way he had held her arm, before enquiring into her wellbeing. Pushing these foolish thoughts aside, she began to arrange the room. She had not been long at her ministrations before she heard determined strides down the hallway and saw the very Prince she had just been thinking of enter the room. Immediately dropping into a curtesy, which she hoped concealed the heat rising in her cheeks at his sudden appearance when she had just been thinking of him, she politely addressed him.

"My Prince, would you like me to vacate the room and return later to finish arranging it?"

"That will not be necessary, I only came to see if you had recovered from your earlier shock. I do not mean to intrude."

"You are most kind, my Prince. I assure you that I am quite well."

Raising herself from her lowered position, she was slightly alarmed to see the Prince cautiously approaching her, so that he was standing a pace in front of her.

A pained expression passed over his face, the cause of which she could not identify, before he raised his hand slowly to the place on her forehead where she had been struck. Realising that her curtsy must have moved her hair so that it was no longer concealing the injury, she rebuked herself for her foolishness, once again. Startled by his hand coming into her vision, she moved back, as if afraid that he would strike her too. A look of alarm at the very notion crossed Jacaerys' features before he quickly returned his hand to his side.

"Have no fear of me. I would never harm you, you can be assured of that. Why did you not tell me that you were hurt?"

Confused by his persistence on the matter, Y/N hesitantly responded.

"I did not think it would matter. It is only a little thing."

"It matters to me. May I have your permission to examine the injury, my Lady?"

Her face must have conveyed the alarm she felt at him being that close to her, as his face fell slightly.

"I give you my word as a Prince of the Realm that I shall not harm you, I only wish to ascertain if there could be a risk of concussion."

A moment of hesitation passed, before she nodded, and he raised both hands, tentatively, bringing them to her head to push her hair back slightly and examine the wound.

Nodding, seemingly satisfied with his assessment, he dropped his hands back to his side again, before taking a pace back from her.

"The wound is not deep and there is no risk of a concussion, but I would have you return to your chambers and rest for the remainder of the day."

Seeing that she meant to protest, he smiled.

"That is not a request."

Raising her hand to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss upon it before turning to leave the room, leaving Y/N standing in the middle of the room, a bewildered expression on her face. This was quickly replaced by a dreamy smile as she, too, vacated the room in the direction of her own chambers, unable to direct her thoughts away from the Prince.

[tedturneriscrazy]

Okay yeah I think I need to talk about that last Luz-Eda interaction, because it lives in my head rent free.

I feel like some people might consider that a Mama Eda moment, and I think that isn't really the case. It's not about Eda having a parental moment, because she has no idea Luz drew the picture.

Rather, for the whole episode, we see that Luz has repeatedly been told that she is lesser, a loser, weird, not good enough, living in a fantasy world, etc. And it's clear she has internalized this and felt the full brunt of RSD when Amity trashed her art. So obviously she's on edge when she sees that Eda is looking at it and fully preparing for another session of being talked down to.

Instead, we get an honest statement of appreciation of her work, and a rebuke of anyone who would discard it. By referring to it as "beautiful," Eda isn't just complimenting Luz's handiwork. Here, quite possibly for the first time from a non-family member, she's hearing someone genuinely admiring her expressing herself. That what she has to share with the world has value. That she has value.

Small wonder she becomes a sobbing clingy mess.

Fuck, I wish we got that in the final show, this fucking slaps.

[youryanderedaddy]

yan prison guard who hates u but low-key wants to f??

YES?!

tw: female reader, hinted non-con, period cramps, physical neglect, abuse of power, hinted blood play, reader is hinted to be a criminal, starts flirty but ends dead dovey xD My Ko - fi <3

"Shit." You mumble, your back softly resting against the cold wall. You reach for the nearest utenstil on the ground - all metal now, since you broke one too many nice porcelain plates - and throw it against the bars with little consideration to the vomit inducing "food" still left inside. The yellow sauce splashes all over the floor, and you look up, not even bothering to hide your smug expression.

"I could make you lick that up, you know." Darcy states, adding little emotion to his already monotone voice - his eyes glued to the book in his lap and all the tiny little words in it, perfectly pristine fresh ink in the stuffy air. His gloved hands are digging into the paper, almost crumpling it, and you now know that his pale hands are simply incapable of holding anything gently - even the things he actually likes.

"Will you?" You tease, but the warning bells at the back of your mind go off nonetheless, seemingly in spite of your best attempts to come off as playful and not desperate. He rarely jokes around - not exactly the fun type. "I'll decide after I finish this page." Your warden chuckles humorlessly. "Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline." He starts reading aloud, licking his cold lips. "So be earnest..." You can feel his gaze on you, caging you in like a wild animal. "And repent." He finally closes the book. "Revelation 3:19." The blonde repeats quietly, turning his attention back to you - and you realise calling out was a mistake, but now it's too late. He's got you in his clutches.

"My stomach hurts. Tell me, Father Allmighty, is this devine punishment too?" You spit out sarcastically, hugging your knees in order to numb the pain a bit. "Or am I simply on my period?" It's your turn to giggle, although it hurts to do so - anything to mask the unease tugging at your vocal cords every time you're faced with that demon.

His eyes narrow in response, and his fingers circle his nose bridge as he scoffs at you, annoyance quickly spreading across his irritatingly handsome, yet equally sharp features.

"Your voice makes my head throb. Stop it." The guard barks, voice dropping low in warning. Still, you decide to push your luck due to pure and simple physical need. "But it hurts." You let yourself whine, slowly revealing your collarbone - and silently hoping that just this once the sweat will look like glitter. "I don't care." He hisses, picking his book again.

You roll your eyes.

"Alright. Sure. But you'll be the one cleaning the bloody sheets after." You mutter under your breath, crossing your hands. You're not sure what's more frustrating - the way your stomach is trying to eat itself or having to appease a narcissistic maniac with too much power and free time through it. Somewhere in the part of your brain still capable of rational thought you realize you should be provided with basic hygiene products just like all the other female prisoners. What makes you different, you guess, is the fact that you're kept under lock and key almost extensively. Solitary confinement 24 hours a day, except for Darcy.

He brings you food. He helps you bathe - if you've been good enough. He's the only one who knows if you're dead or alive. Hell, he may be the only one who even cares.

"I'm sure cleaning up your mess will be quite exciting." The blonde cracks a tiny, self evident smile only he knows the meaning of - and you would have frowned in disgust if you could still feel that lovely human emotion. "Admit it, you actually like the thought of me bleeding, you little freak." You scrunch your nose at him, then look back to the floor, the filth so thick it almost sticks to your slightly less dirty shoes. "Takes one to know one." Darcy responds nonchalantly, running his hand through his slick white locks.

At that moment the cramps return in full force, your lower abdomen on fire with sharp stabbing pain. You remember some fragmentary tips from your scrappy teen years - you close your eyes and breath in deeply, you bite the inside of your cheek - you even pray to whoever is listening, but it just won't stop. So you bargain.

"You can have it." You say with difficulty, folded in half. Hot tears prick your eyes and you try to fight them, but soon give into the agony. It's such a relief to cry after months of resilience - to break down completely and let your most vulnerable self out.

The warden takes a single steps towards the bars and motions for you to move closer. You crawl to him, your hand supporting your lower belly in the process. He takes a good look at you and slowly, almost gently caresses your face through the metal - eyes suddenly softened by the image of you dancing in the palm of his hand.

If it was anyone else he'd be simply repulsed by this clear display of weakness. If it was another prisoner, another hardened criminal, he'd have no problem following his own principles of zero tolerance - of crushing and breaking their spirit until nothing was left. But it was you and your beatiful, stipid tears that mesmerized him to no end, that haunted his dreams and turned his bloodlust into something a lot more sinister. Something harder to capture, harder to fight - and easier to give into.

"You can have it." You repeated tearfully, rubbing at your soft wet eyelids - completely still. Scared of your own flesh and its betrayal. "My mind, my body, anything. Just please give me some pills. I can't take it." You whimper pitifully, shaking under his watchful eyes. He's holding onto your cheek, but you feel like he's got you in a suffocating embrace. And then just when you're about to kneel down, he unlocks the door to your cell.

"I've been taking your brain apart for months now." Darcy whispers softly, taking off one of his gloves and letting it drop to the floor. He takes another step towards your cowering form. "Your body, on the other hand, is a white canvas." He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his burning gaze - and the pain fades away instantly, replaced by raw, intense fear. "I wonder what your insides look like. Surely, they're beatiful."

You feel his lips on your neck, followed by the tip of a knife - a butterfly kiss.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 21

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

It isn’t until you hear the front door that you leave your bed. Much of the morning you’ve spent listening to the buzz of your mom and Steve’s murmurs. They’re plotting their surprise and you’re left to suffocate in anxiety. You can’t think of anything they might be planning. 

You get up and gently open your door. You tiptoe into the hall and peek into the kitchen. No one’s there. The bathroom door is closed and you hear your mother’s cough from inside. That reassures you somewhat.  

You continue down the hall and stop by the front door. Once more, the drone of Steve’s deep timber cuts through the walls. You lean over to peek through the window beside the door, tugging the edge of the curtain back with a single finger.  

Just at the threshold of your mom’s lot, Steve stands with his broad back to you. You glimpse two figures on the other side of him; blonde, primped, and pretty. It’s Marge and Callie from the HOA. They hand something to him and he examines it as he bends his neck. Their voices drift in through the screen but the words are obscured by distance. 

Marge plays with the perfect flip at the bottom of her hair and Callie pushes out one hip. You wonder if they’ve hand delivered their first rebuke. Oddly, their interaction doesn’t seem tense. 

The women preen up at Steve and finally walk off. He watches after them, shifting on his feet, then turns and marches up his walk. You get a better look at what’s in his hand as he diverts and stop on the other side of the low fence. You strain to keep sight of him around the trim of the window. It’s a tupperware container. He dumps it in the bin and grimaces, letting the lid fall back down heavily. 

You back up as you hear the bathroom door. Your turn and sniff, rubbing your temples as you drag your feet along the hallway. She emerges in a cloud of hairspray and perfume. You crinkle your nose at her. 

“Morning,” you babble dumbly. 

“Would you hurry up,” she sneers, “we gotta be going soon.” 

“Right, sorry, mom, I was just--” 

“Just putting something on,” she snaps. “Steve’s gone to get dressed then he’s back to drive us.” 

She brushes past you roughly and you peer after her as she goes into the kitchen and pours what’s left in the coffee pot into a mug. She tuts and shakes her head as she drinks tediously around her painted lips. The makeup and hair suggest that jeans really aren’t an option. 

You return to your room and scour your dresser and closet. You don’t have much more than handmedown jeans and tee shirts. Like everything else about you, clothes are an afterthought. You only have that dress. 

You change into the polkadot dress. It doesn’t fit any better than last time. It’s too hot for a sweater as a sheen already settles over your forehead. You peek out before you cross the hall. You think your mom is done in the bathroom. 

You brush your teeth and wash your face, going through the basic steps of your routine. You never do very much. You wrangle in your hair as best as you can but you still feel inadequate. You step back into the hall as your mom’s footfalls stomp closer. 

She’s in a green satin dress. The forest tone is muted but the cut is elegant and the fabric expensive. You haven’t seen her in anything that nice since before her diagnosis. Together with her hair and makeup, and the necklace around her neck, she doesn’t look sick at all. 

“Oh, mom, you look pretty,” you say. 

“Yes, yes, move,” she elbows into the bathroom, “I have to touch up.” 

You nod and your cheeks pinch. You flit back to your bedroom and search the little basket in your top drawer. You find the silver bow pin and weave it into your hair. It’s better than nothing. You shrug. You don’t have any other jewellery really. 

You close your door and wait in your room as your mom snaps and slams around in the bathroom. Her footsteps thump down the hall then click back up in heels. She sounds like she’s pacing. She only stops as the front door opens and you hover on the foot of your bed. 

Your mother holler’s your name and you stand up. You come out and scurry down the hall. You pick out the brown strappy sandals that don’t really go with your dress. Your other option is sneakers and you don’t think she’d be very happy about that. 

“Well, you two look lovely,” Steve praises as he stands just inside the door. 

You murmur a thanks and look up. He’s wearing a blue suit and his hair is combed and style neatly. Your eyes round as you look between him and your mom. You’re underdressed to a painful degree. 

“Ready to go?” Steve asks as he checks his watch, “we gotta be there by ten.” 

“Ready,” your mother chimes. 

Steve backs up and opens the door as he steps out onto the porch. He holds it as your mom struts through and you follow as you cross your arm over your stomach and rub your arm. He beams at you as you try shrink into nothing. 

You follow your mom up the walk and to Steve’s car pulled up at the curb. As you stand at the passenger side and Steve strolls up behind you, your mom leans in and lowers her voice to a harsh whisper, “pull your dress up.” 

She pinches the strap and you look down. You gulp and try to adjust it to cover more of your chest. You really don’t know when they got so... big. You turn away as Steve passes and goes around the back end. As you tug on your dress, he glances over and you make a face, caught in the adjustment. His cheek ticks and he quickly looks away and strides up the other side. The door unlock with a click. 

“Alright, ladies,” his opens his door, “today’s the day.” 

You get into the backseat as his declaration rings in your ears. The day? What day? You lift yourself and push your skirt under you as it catches behind your bum and you drop down, your chest bouncing with the motion and you once more tug on the flimsy fabric. 

Your eyes are drawn up as Steve fixes the mirror and you meet his eyes in the reflection. Can he see you? You quickly avert your gaze out the window and pull on the seat belt. Your stomach is roiling like a steaming pot. You don’t like surprises. 

🏠

The large metal letters above the romanesque entry read ‘CITY HALL’. You walk behind Steve and your mom as they enter through the double doors. Their pace is urgent and they are quiet with anticipation. You do your best to keep up though you wonder if they even remember you’re there. 

The twists and turns past the plaques that delineate different departments and arrows the point to others has you disoriented. Why are you here anyway? It seems like important stuff for adults. Well, you are an adult too. 

You join a queue inside an office with windowed walls. You hadn’t been paying attention when you entered. You crowded your mom and Steve as you try to stay away from the person behind you. The line moves slowly as the clerks behind glass call numbers out to bring up the next person. 

“Rogers, Steve,” Steve declares as he steps up and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, then recites your mother’s name. 

“Oh, yes, the Judge will see you in private chambers,” the man in the booth says, “your witnesses?” 

“Got one, the other is on his way,” Steve tuts and lifts his wrist, checking the time, “he will be here by ten.” 

“Alright, you just want to go to your left and curl around this desk. You’re in Chamber Three,” the clerk directs and hands back the paper, “congratulations.” 

Steve nods and backs up. As he turns, your mother clings to his hand and he slowly closes his fingers around hers. He glances back as you follow, careful not to tread on his heels. You furrow your brow. It sounds like... 

“Surprises,” Steve chuckles as he stops before a door marked with a number three and lets go of your mom, “we’re getting married.” 

Your mom steps into the open doorway and you stop just outside as Steve lingers by the frame. You gape up at him, speechless. He smiles and rubs your arms. 

“We’re gonna be one big happy family,” he says, “I’m gonna take care of you and mom.”