#maybe i needed that 5 years to really come to terms with it

[confinesofmy]

my vape addict cousin pissed me off so bad the other day bc she swore up and down she was too stressed out to try the nicotine patch right now and i pointed out that nic addicts always say that and it's bc the nic is making you anxious af, the patch will immediately ease that stress and weaning down will cure it in the longterm. and she said no i mean it i really am stressed you have no idea what i'm going through and i pointed out that i quit smoking 10 months after my mom died, with debilitating daily panic attacks and 300 burdens weighing heavily upon me. and she said you just don't understand what i'm trying to say and then explained again that she's just too stressed. and that right there is why she's never going to quit. 🤷

[dorkicon]

bitching abt homophobia n shit at my job in the tags o7 happy pride

[coquitokisses]

Back Together | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader, (husband!Bucky Barnes x wife!reader, dad!Bucky Barnes x mom!reader)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/Tags: Bucky being dad and hubby material, fluff, angst maybe?

Summary: Bucky and reader are married and have two girls, but because of Bucky’s work, reader decides to “break up” and have been separated for a few months. (Let’s say that this “job” was when the whole thing with John Walker happened in TFATWS, idfk lol)

A/N: so I’m currently writing a fanfic (on wattpad) and I had this idea, but I’m not there on the fanfic just yet lol so I decided to just post it here (also, my first language isn’t english so if there are any errors or mistakes, I’m sorry lmao)

The girls are like 4 and 5 years old and those aren’t the names I have planned on using for the fanfic, but it’ll do for now.. and Steve is alive and well lol (he doesn’t make an appearance, but I do mention him, like I said, this idea came as I was writing a fanfic so what I did was try and edit it a little bit so yall don’t need context and shit lol just enjoy okay?)

A/N #2: this is my first time doing this so just bare with me please lmao

It’s almost 10 pm which means Bucky must be on his way to bring the girls back after having them for the weekend. You were away in Seattle the whole weekend for work, but anyways it was Bucky’s turn to stay with the kids. They were supposed to stay with Wanda tonight, but since you arrived earlier than anticipated, you told her that Bucky was gonna bring them over.

You’re not on the best terms. Actually, you’re broken up at the moment and have been like that for like three months now. It all started because of Bucky’s “job”. You always said that he wasn’t being careful with the things he did and you didn’t like the constant worrying about him every time he went out to do his things. He didn’t really see it that way which made you get into a really bad fight and you decided to break up because he wasn’t putting his safety, or his family, as a priority and you didn’t like that.

Which was kinda true. So you’re currently not living together. Bucky has been staying with Steve, or with Sam whenever he comes to New York. The girls usually stay with you and then Bucky takes them on the weekends, but whenever you can’t take them to school (or get them on time) or something on week days, then Bucky takes them without a problem.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick them up for you?” Wanda asked while on FaceTime with you

“It’s alright, red, don’t worry.” You replied “Besides, Bucky’s probably on his way anyway.”

“Still haven’t talked?”

“Well we talk, just not about us.” You said walking out of the kitchen

“And are you guys still, like, mad or..?”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“Steve told you he got out.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I just.. I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him about it.”

“Well I think you need to.” She said “Just have a little chat and see where things are at.. you guys still love each other.”

And you did. Of course you did. And the girls want you to get back together too. But you just haven’t talked about it again.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You replied and just as you said that, you saw the car lights through the window “He’s here, I gotta go.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, love you.”

“Love you more.”

You hung up the call and left the phone on the couch before heading to the door. You opened it and saw Bucky walking over to the house holding Olivia, your youngest, in his arms and Eloise was walking right next to him. And the three of them just looked tired as hell.

“Hi mommy.” Eloise ran over to you

“Hi, pretty girl.” You immediately hugged her

“Say hi to mama, Liv.” Bucky said as he got closer

“Hi mama.” Olivia opened her arms wanting you to pick her up so you did

“Hi, my angel.” You kissed her cheek

“Sorry to bring them so late, we just got out of the cinema.” Bucky said

“Buck, it’s fine, they don’t even go to school yet.” You told him “Did you guys have fun?” You asked the girls

“So much fun!” Eloise replied excitedly “We also went to the trampoline park earlier.”

“Oh well that explains why someone’s a little more tired than others.” You looked at Olivia and she rested her head on your shoulder

“Mommy, can daddy tuck us in tonight, please?” Eloise asked

“Baby, I’m sure mommy had a really long and tired flight and she just wants to sleep.” Bucky told her

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You said “Daddy will tuck you in, sweetheart.” You tucked a few strands of Eloise’s hair behind her ear

“Daddy, come on.” She grabbed Bucky’s hand

You all went inside and you gave the girls a quick shower before Bucky helped them get in their pjs.

“Mommy, are we staying with auntie Wanda tomorrow?” Eloise asked as she got on her bed

“Yes, baby, I need to go to work.” You replied

“Can’t we stay with daddy?”

“Daddy works too, honey.” You moved her hair out of her face “I thought you liked staying with auntie Wanda.”

“We do, but we wanted to stay with daddy again.” Olivia spoke

“Well I can pick you up at auntie Wanda’s house when I get out of work, how does that sound?” Bucky told them

“And we can get dippin dots too?” Olivia looked at him with puppy eyes

“We can get whatever you girls want.” He said squishing her cheeks making her giggle

You couldn’t help but smile a little. You loved watching Bucky with the girls, he really is an amazing father and they love him like crazy.

“Alright it’s getting super late, time to sleep.” You said to them

“But mom!” Eloise pouted

“No buts, listen to your mom.” Bucky said “Come on, get in bed both of you.”

Each of the girls got in their beds and Bucky went and tucked them both. They have their own separate rooms, but they’re pretty close and they’ve always wanted to sleep in the same room so when the time came and you bought Olivia her big girl bed, Bucky just placed it in Eloise’s room. Anyways, when the time comes when they get to the point where they don’t even want to look at each other, you’ll probably make Bucky move Olivia’s bed back to her room and problem solved. But for now, they absolutely love being in the same room.

“I love you.” Bucky kissed Olivia’s forehead “And I love you.” He then kissed Eloise’s “So so much.”

“We love you too, daddy.” They said

“Now get some sleep because auntie Wanda is coming early tomorrow to pick you up before I leave.” You leaned down to kiss each of them on their heads “I love you both so insanely much.”

“Love you too, mommy.”

“Now go to sleep or I’ll call the slender man.” Bucky said as he turned off the light

He quickly closed the door once you got out of the room and the girls let out a scream that made you both laugh.

“You’re evil.” You chuckled “Creating them traumas so young.”

“It gives them strength.”

You rolled your eyes laughing. “Of course.”

You both went downstairs and then Bucky went back to the car to bring back Olivia’s shoes and a few toys that the girls left in the car. While you put them on the dining table, Bucky was just telling you what they did and how the girls were on the weekend.

“Liv didn’t even asked for my help to wipe her after using the bathroom.”

“No?!” You looked at him kinda shocked

Potty training Eloise was way easier than training Olivia. First she was afraid of the toilet being flushed, then she was afraid that something would come out and bite her, then she didn’t want to stay alone while using the toilet. It’s been a rollercoaster for all of you.

“No, she did it all by herself.”

“Oh my god, really? I’m gonna cry.” You said with a hand on your chest

“She said she’s a big girl and big girls don’t need any help to go potty.”

“She is a big girl.” You said “Fuck, they’re both getting so big.”

“They are.” He nodded “How was Seattle?”

“Fucking amazing.” You said excited “It’s so pretty.”

“And how did it went? Are they planning on transferring you?”

“Hell no, I told Nick I’m not leaving New York.” You replied “If we were still living in the compound, then this would’ve been a whole different conversation, but we’re not and we have kids now so no, I’m not leaving even if they pay me more.”

“Well if they are paying you more then..” he raised his eyebrows

You laughed. “You know what I mean, idiot.” You rolled your eyes “But no, I’m not being transferred.”

“Then why did you go?”

“Nick said that they needed someone like me for some training.” You answered “It was great, I got to teach a few people about self defense, how exciting.”

“I’m glad.” He said with a small smile

He was genuinely happy for you. He knew how much you’ve missed working like that. Being an agent, a spy, you missed it. But at the same time, it wasn’t really in your plans anymore ever since you got pregnant with Eloise. It happened during the blip as well so you weren’t exactly working as an agent or spy anymore so you just decided to leave it behind for good. Until recently.

“You know, if it’s really what you want, then go for it.” He told you “The girls aren’t stopping you and neither am I.”

“I know, but it’s just that I feel like I’m on a different stage in life now.” You said “It felt fucking amazing, don’t get me wrong.”

“Then do it, talk with Nick and tell him to put you out there, that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“We’re not going anywhere, you know that, right?” He said and you looked at him “And how cool would it be for the girls to say that their mommy is a spy?”

You laughed. “They will brag about it for sure.”

“And the best part is that you’re great at it and always have been.”

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You shrugged looking at the time on the stove “It’s getting very late.” You looked at him

“Ouch okay, I’m leaving.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes

“Are we gonna keep this up?” He looked at you

“What?”

“This nonsense.” He motioned his hand between the two of you

“This nonsense?” You arched an eyebrow “Do I need to remind you whose fault is it that we’re on this position right now?”

“It could’ve gone so much better, but little miss I’m extremely petty over here, doesn’t like to listen to people and doesn’t care about anything other than her opinion.” He said

“Oh don’t make me mad, James.” You crossed your arms

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

“I think you can go now.” You said turning around and starting to walk away

“See what I mean?” You heard him say from behind “Can’t we just talk about it like normal people?” He asked following you

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” You said turning around to look at him

“Well I think it is.”

“Bucky..”

“Y/N, come on.” He sighed “It’s been three months, are you gonna keep pushing me away?”

And he’s right, you’ve been kinda pushing him away. To be honest, the whole thing could’ve been avoided if Bucky and you came to an agreement, but you never did. You were upset that he was going away with Sam to do all these things that you weren’t okay with and you were thinking about the kids, which, at the moment, he wasn’t doing and that pissed you off. That was the whole thing. He didn’t want to empathize with the way you were viewing the whole situation and he was kinda making you look crazy. Saying things like “it’s not a big deal” or “everything will be alright, you don’t need to freak out”.

How does he expect you to not freak out when he doesn’t care about doing all this dangerous things? Was he insane?

In other circumstances, if you didn’t have kids for example, maybe you would’ve been a little bit more okay with it, maybe. But it’s a whole different scenario now.

And you were kinda pushing him away, sort of. But it wasn’t intentional, it’s just that you were kinda petty and there were times where he wanted to kinda fix things, but you wouldn’t let him because you would find a way to push him away unconsciously.

“You made me feel like I was exaggerating when I clearly wasn’t.” You said

“Because at the moment I did feel that way and I didn’t want to view the situation the way you were.” He explained “And I know I was wrong for that and I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh. “You still went.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed here with you, I regretted it the moment I left with Sam.” He said “And I came back as soon as I could.”

“And you stayed with Steve.” You rolled your eyes

“Baby, you wanted to kill me, do you really think I was just gonna come and ask you to take me back after that shit? Like you were just gonna accept me.”

“… Well, you’re kinda right.”

“I know, Steve told me you were pissed and that you wanted to punch me.”

“I did tell him that.” You nodded

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s fine, just forget it, I’m sick of the topic anyway.” You replied leaning on the back of the couch

“But are we fine?” He asked

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Well I’d say we are, kinda.” He got closer to you “You want me to do anything?”

“You could start by fixing the damn back door.”

“Again? But I just fixed it a few months ago.”

“Well I think you did it wrong because the doorknob is broken again.”

“I need to change that fucking door already.” He rolled his eyes “Anything else? Are you still mad at me?”

“A little.” You replied

“Just a little?” He moved his hands to your hips “I can help you change your mind.”

“Easy there, soldier.”

“Easy my ass, come here.”

Before you could even protest, his real hand grabbed your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss that screamed need. You really missed his kisses and just the way he would always give you a peck, whenever and wherever, whatever you were doing, he didn’t give a single care in the world. This man could see you sitting on the toilet and he still would go and give you a quick kiss.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He whispered on your lips “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“I did too.”

“Can we please never fight again?” He gently put his forehead against yours

“As long as you don’t piss me the fuck off doing some stupid shit like that again, we’re good.”

“Good.” He nodded before kissing you again

“And I swear to god..” you started saying between kisses “If I see you again that close to John Walker, I’m gonna kill you.”

“I know.” He said lowering his hands to the back of your thighs and picking you up

masterlist

a/n: should I post the fanfic here? What do we think? Lol (I’ve been thinking about it A LOT lately)

**UPDATE! I ended up uploading the fanfic and here is the masterlist for it lol

Anywaysss, hope you liked this! <3

(Likes and reblogs will be appreciated)

[just-a-ghost00]

How will you meet your next lover?

Group 1

Cards : 2 of pentacles, Knight of pentacles, Temperance, page of cups, ace of swords, 4 of pentacles

This feels like a work setting or at least a work related meeting. You might not necessarily meet them directly at work but your occupation may lead you to meet this person. I feel like either one or both of you are in a transition when you meet. If not, a period of instability. It's like you're not really sure whether you want to keep going in the direction you're headed to. When you meet, I feel like the connection is instantly going really smoothly. You and this person may be chatting right away, exchanging ideas and tips. However, I feel like both of you are on the reserve. I don't see anyone being at the origin of your meeting with them. You will likely be surrounded by people but they will not come into play here. It's just you and your person interacting with each other. I feel like both of you are single when this happens. The transition phase may concern your respective studies or career. There might not be much going on upon first meeting. But you will instantly feel attracted to them, especially to their mind. In terms of timing, I'm picking up on a few years. A little pigy bank was depicted on the 4 of pentacles card. So I'm getting the message that in order to meet this person, you will have to save money. Or you will meet them at a point in your life when you or they need to save money for a project. Maybe you live at a distance from one another and when this person meets you, you or they are only there for a short period of time. Which would explain the transition thing. Think about a tourist visiting a country and making acquaintances with the locals.

Group 2

Cards : 4 of pentacles, 9 of swords, Queen of swords, Magician, 6 of swords, King of pentacles

I am getting a work setting from this group as well. You might have felt drawn to group 1 too. For this group, I'm picking up on a difficult phase in your career. Maybe you've reached a stalemate. You're working really hard to ensure your future and stability but somehow you're not seeing any progress. This may lead to you feeling anxious or even being depressed. I see that during this period of time, you're not entertaining any relationship. You feel very guarded and hurt and the last thing you need is for someone to come into your life and see you stuck in this mess. Yet, that's what happens. This person is also single and very career focused. You may meet them at a time of their life when they're travelling for learning purposes. This person has reached a stale mate in their career as well. And in order to overcome this phase, they have decided to make a move and find an opportunity to learn more and get more resources. This person decided to force their luck so to speak. "If I'm not going to be given the sucess that I seek, I'm going to create it on my own, no matter how hard that may be" was their mindset. Neither of you expected to meet each other. I don't know why I keep talking in past tense. This could be an indication that you may have met this person already. I get a vibe from you that both of you are very witty and cerebral people. This may be what got you to interact with each other in the first place. I'm picking up on different zodiac signs which could give us an indication as to who they are or when you met them. We have Gemini, Libra, Taurus and Scorpio. So that gives us a time frame from mid June to mid November. You may have met them during Summer.

Group 3

Cards : Hierophant, 5 of cups, The World, 10 of pentacles, King of cups, 10 of cups

For this group, the place of the meeting may vary. What triggers this meeting is a loss. It could be the loss of a partnership in any form (person, contract) or of an important belief system. In both cases, this really affected you on a spiritual and emotional level. When you start to overcome this loss and feel a bit more optimistic about life is when this person comes in. You may be travelling abroad or interacting with a lot of foreigners online. Your job or studies are going well. You may be travelling or enhancing your presence online in order to gain knowledge, notoriety or resources. The person you meet is very generous. Right off the bat, you will get a very good impression of this person. They will make you feel safe and cared for like no other. One way that you can recognize this person is by how sweet and kind they are. They will gift you many things out of the blue, for no other reason than to make you smile. They will give you compliments out of the blue, reassure you very frequently, encourage you every step you take. This person is a very good listener and a reliable support system. When you meet and start interacting, you may be living at a distance from each other and thus use social media to stay in touch. I'm picking up on fixed signs very strongly, especially Taurus and Scorpio. When you meet this person, you will notice that a lot of things in your life are improving. It will almost feel surreal. It's like this person has unlocked a cheat code that you weren't aware of and now all you ask for is in your hands. Lucky you!

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 5 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: the second year of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly concerning traditions 

warnings (TW): swearing, gambling, illegal activities, illusions of past abuse 

tags: fluff, affection, mutual-pining

notes: canonically no one knows anything about shermie really, which would be hilarious if I didn’t have to write about it \\ also i feel like there not too much fluff in this (could be really fucking wrong lol) but the next part i have drafted is sickingly sweet so just give me some time 

Also (again) i’ll begin linking a legit masterlist below with all the parts! I thought of renaming each era but the naming part of things is where im legit the leassst creative for some reason? maybe later idk? but anyway! so much love from everyone! thank you so much! you don’t know how much i appreciate the love and the comments, thats why i continue writing this ahhhhhhh! thank you!!!

word count: 4.4k 

| masterlist | part vi |

March, 1984 

It had taken her several months to come to terms with what had to be done for the sake of their identities. 

He had been more open with her concerning his past in that one two-hour conversation than he had in the past year in its entirety. Something that would shake a normal woman, but she had become so oddly attached to her new partner she almost didn’t care about the picture he painted of what he used to be - something he insisted he still was. Bad. He had said to her that night. That he wasn’t any good. 

The painting only flooded with more color, in those following months after said heart-to-heart. His conversation with his mother spoke of it. It also spoke of a man who truly honestly couldn’t be the picture he had painted. 

It’s something they had both tiptoed around, conversations of their parentage. Of course, because of Ford, she knew that they grew up in the typical American nuclear family home, with a mother who lingered in doorways and a father who raised his hands as frequently as his voice. But she didn’t know how intertwined Stanley had been with his mother in particular. 

Which was hard, considering he was now legally dead. 

That first frantic conversation they had had over the phone had shaken him, had him reconsidering. But watching Doc’ wait in anticipation and disbelief in the next room over quickly made him change his mind. It was so they would be safe, he reasoned. 

His mother had called believing she was calling Ford after she received the shattering news that her baby boy was presumed to be dead. Baby being used here loosely, seeing as Ford was only truly older by a mere fifteen minutes. 

His mother hadn’t been shocked Ford hadn’t contacted her in that past year, something he had shook off every time he passed the landline. He thought to call her. But she was quite hung up on not having heard from Stanley that past year, insisting in her ways that surely he would have called, her free-spirited boy was always much more inclined to call her, something she had never blamed Stanford for of course. Just a flippant difference between her two boys. One called and the other lingered in doorways, like her. 

Stanley had reasoned with her over the landline. Insisting that he, unfortunately, would not be able to make it to his own brother's funeral, something she had tisked at, raising her voice to who she assumed was Stanford. This is your brother! She had insisted. You loved your brother, don’t say you didn’t. Everyone makes mistakes, you need to forgive him now. 

It was not until after the event that she called again, telling him not to worry. That she had attended for him, but that his father was just as busy as him. Something unspoken between them, just as stubborn. She had meant to say. Just as ignorant. 

His mother spoke with him in a different tone over the phone, a difference in how she held cadence when she was talking to Stanford rather than Stanley, something he wondered if Poindexter ever noticed. 

His Doc’ knew the conversations drained an odd part of him, so she did her best to work around him when his mother did ring their landline. Something she did semi-frequently now that Stanley was officially dead. 

In the beginning, she had lingered in the next room, then drifted through doorways, and eventually made it until she sat at the kitchen table with him, playing with his fingers in hopes of baiting him away from the phone. If the conversation was shorter then surely he wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t for too long. 

She later realized this was a mistake, no matter how his impression of his brother gnawed at an odd part of her psyche. So she moved from him, doing dishes and cooking. But still oddly near him. 

It was easier to lean into domesticity when she played it so well around him, and it made the phone calls less nerve-wracking to take. Pretending his wife was doting on him, that his long-distance mother was calling to check in, and pretending he wasn’t a fraud and a failure. So he usually insisted on her presence. And he pretended that she played a role in it all and that his mother didn’t sound different over the phone. One big lie to make him breathe better. 

It’s after one of these phone calls that he slumps deep in his kitchen seat one day, and she turns from the dishes in the sink to ask what’s wrong. 

“We’re gonna have to tell her one day.” 

“What?” 

“That we’re married, doll.” He crossed his arms, a contemplative look overtaking him. The first time he’d said the word since that conversation in the car. “I don’t know how long until we have ta’, but I know we gotta.” 

“Okay.” She hums, hands still sudsy from the sink. “Is there any other family we may have to tell?” 

“My older brother, Shermie. But he’s in Cali not Jersey like my ma.” He hums. “Older than me, don’t know him as well. But he is closer.” 

“And will he be able to tell?” She asks. “That you’re not Stanford?” 

“Nah.” He sighs. “He’s got a wife though, and a kid from what I remember. A baby girl, probably about ten now.” 

“Oh my god, so you’re an uncle?” She laughs, a smile splitting her face once more. 

“Ya doll, have been since I was 18. Remember meeting her, but pretty soon after I hit the road.” 

He had been fond of her, from what he could remember. The baby girl had rarely left the crook of his doting mother’s arms, but when it came to be his turn to hold her he enjoyed the warmth and weight of her. And her gummy smile at his continued insistence. He still remembers her tiny hands, fisted around one of his fingers. She had been small, smaller than he had imagined babies could be. He bet she was still small, it felt hard to imagine her as more than a swaddle in the swell of his arms now. 

Silence breaks between them again. “Well for what it’s worth I think you’d be a great uncle, if you could have been closer to her that is.” She hums, moving back to the sink to wash some more dishes. Her hair curved around her soft face, beautiful in her usual careless way.

Maybe he would have been. 

June, 1984

They had started a tradition in their home. A young tradition, but she figured it still was one since they had promised to go about their day the same way as they had the previous year. Except this time they had thought to prepare. 

The town they resided in was odd for sure and had an affinity for the unexplained and perhaps more creepy pursuits. The town had a tradition of its own in which they held a Halloween event twice a year, Summerween they called it. 

Not that they had known of it their first year residing in the shack, but it was quite the surprise to open the door to trick-or-treaters in mid-June. The children had unknowingly interrupted Stan's attempt to teach her how to play poker. Unfortunately for the children, they didn’t have any candy on hand for them that year. Without anything to give them, the kids retaliated by tee-peeing their yard that same night. 

She had found it only slightly annoying, having to clean it up the next morning. But it quickly fell into amusement, watching Stan stomp and curse while pulling toilet paper from bushes and trees. He didn’t enjoy a prank that was not his own. And he wouldn’t be caught unaware the next year. 

Which was why they had wandered around town that last week, looking for supplies to decorate their porch and getting last-minute off-brand candy. She had scoffed at the shitty candy they had bought but figured it was more or less all they could afford. She had eyed up the bigger bags of nicer candy, chocolate had always been a weakness of hers. 

Stan had also bought what he called “Scary Stan” supplies. Silly string, odd meats, and fake blood found its way into their shopping cart. Along with supplies for caramel apples upon her insistence. 

They had made a night of it, decorating their porch with fake spider webs and the town's traditional carved watermelon jack-o-lanterns. She had gone ahead in making caramel apples also, bagging them up as she went for the children. Perhaps it would make up for the shitty candy. 

In keeping with tradition, Stan thought to continue their poker night as they had been doing the previous Summerween. So their night was spent in an identical fashion almost, with detailed explanations of correct poker etiquette from Stan with interrupted rushing to and from the door to give awaiting kids off-brand chocolate and homemade caramel apples. Except they sat across from each other in costume now. She had been amused when he had insisted on them being matching, he had flushed in embarrassment in the store that week, pleading his case after his initial insistence. Like it was only natural that they would match. She barely fought it, something odd aching in her chest at his rather sweet insistence.

“Come on! It’s a good idea!” 

“What are we Stan, twelve?” 

“No, we're married. Just as embarrassing.” He had said flippantly, his ears red in a flush as he shoved two capes into the shopping cart along with everything else. 

Which is how they ended up here tonight, sitting across from each other in the dim kitchen light, both dressed as a gaudy vampire couple while Stan explained for the fourth time the probability of getting a royal flush. Her feet propped up on his lap, like always. He had bent down to grab them, folding them into the curve of him. 

He had tried not to stare too long when she came down the stairs earlier, her matching velvet red cape and shitty plastic vampire teeth sat oddly in her mouth. But it was one of the first times she had done her makeup like that, all dark and creased around her enchanting eyes. And the first time he had ever seen that black shirt, which had a surprisingly low cut. All the more distracting. 

This is why he was stumbling through explaining what a royal flush was for the fourth time, and probably why she was looking all confused at him like that also. 

“Okay doll, let’s run through this a couple of times, then we’ll put in some real steaks here.” 

“Stan we are dead broke we are not gambling money tonight. You’d rob me blind!” 

“Shush!” He insisted, smiling across from her. “Just a couple rounds, I’ll show you some good hands and we’ll go from there, okay?” 

They were interrupted interspersedly from time to time during their practice rounds, Stan usually being the one to race out to the porch first, in hopes of scaring whatever little kid dared knock on their porch door. 

Of course, if the child was too young he’d call for her. She had put up a fight with him about scaring kids that were younger than ten tonight. Which he had been glum about until he watched her with them. 

She’d gush at the doorway, complimenting costumes and handing out her caramel apples she had slaved away over. She had this certain smile too, and silently in the back of his mind he thanked any little kid who knocked on their door that night because she looked particularly enchanting when she was kneeling down talking to them. Like she was always meant to be doing that. 

Anyone over ten was free for the taking though, and he took particular pride in scaring any poor sap who was old enough in her eyes. The fake blood in particular came in handy, and she would laugh when he’d routinely come back from the porch door slathered in it. She silently thanked those kids tonight, because he seemed to be particularly enchanting when he laughed like that. Like he was always meant to be this carefree. 

The poker games practice rounds were over though. And he had a particular surprise just for her. 

“Ta-Da!” He said, while pulling out a bag of candy from the very top cabinet she could never reach in the kitchen. 

“Oh my god, is that chocolate!” She gasped again, reaching for the bag. “Name-brand chocolate! Awe, you shouldn’t have Stan.” She encased it in her arms, hugging it like a stuffy. It was the bag she had been eyeing up in the grocery store not even a week ago.

“Ah-ah!” He moved to grab the bag back. “This is what we are betting with tonight, doll.” Candy back in his hands, he moved back to his seat. Opening the bag to evenly disperse the individually wrapped candy between the two of them. 

“How’d you even get that bag, Stan, we can barely afford everything else we bought.” 

“You don’t wanna know, hun.” He said, shuffling her candy pile in front of her. Okay, so he had stolen it, so what? He hadn’t called her “hun” in a while though. Distracting. 

He almost never called her that sickeningly sweet name now, something she thought about far too often for her good. She missed that term of endearment in particular for some reason. But perhaps Stan found it to be too domestic, too personal for what both resided between them now. Perhaps it reminded him of her mistake, of her tying herself to him for the foreseeable future. Her heart did something odd though, when he would call her that. She usually made note of it when he did call her “hun” now. Because it was so rare to hear it, and she hesitated to ask why. It would slip out of him in odd moments, moments he would catch himself unaware and relaxed around her. But it always made him flush now, too. 

The game followed similarly, his flushing smirk distracting her from her hand on more than one occasion. He was so charmingly confident when he was playing games, so competitive. She tried to shake it off, the way he looked like this. She wanted to play with him, too. 

“You’re full of shit doll.” 

“No!” She gasps, suddenly a good actress. “My hand is just that good bucko! I raised it by too cluster bars, are you gonna meet or fold sir?” She hummed, smiling at him over her hand of cards. 

This was probably the only time she was damn good at lying, he conceded. She liked to play it up, waving her hands and laughing everything off. She was pretty good at playing off a hand that had absolutely nothing in it. But he had memorized her tell long ago, memorized her face just the same. She looked the same every night, teasing him across this kitchen table over dinner. Her brow upturned just a little, her cheeks flushed. That was the look, her look. She had nothing in her hand. 

But he was wiping the floor with her. 

He hums, hand over his lips. “I guess I fold then.” He sets his cards down, pushing his stack of candy back towards her.  

“Yes!” She jumps up, reaching across to swipe his candy into her pile. An elated smile on her face as she dances in her seat. The kitchen light making shadows on her face, the sun having finally gone down to alleviate some of the June heat. She stops mid-dance, a realization blooming over her face. “Wait a minute.” 

“Hmmmm?” He says, munching on one of his candies. 

“I know for a fact you can count cards, Stan!” Her finger pointed accusingly at her. “That’s why they won’t let you back in Nashville. You should legitimately win every round, and I know that for a fact!” 

He leans back in his kitchen chair, laughing in his low gravelly voice. “Perhaps?” He questions, hands held up in guilt. 

“Gahh!” She yells, reaching across the table and the stacks of candy to throw a fist at his shoulder. “I’ll get you for real one day.” 

“You’re smart hun, I know you will.” That flush across his face. 

“You’re smart too though.” She says, stating what she knows to be true. He is smart, he proves it to her every day. He just would never actually take the compliment, something he figured was a lie. He’d never been called smart in his life before her. He’d let her lie about this one thing though. His head hung off the back of his chair. His Doc’ was a terrible liar, though. 

“Nah!” He says flippantly, hand waving away her truth. “Let’s watch a movie!” Jumping from his seat, scooping up her pile and his pile of chocolates, and racing to the T.V. They’d play again the next year, and he’d let her win again in hopes it would make her just as happy as she just was. And maybe then she’d believed she’d won and he’d believe he was smart enough to be out-witted by the likes of her. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” She inquires, head popping back into the living room. 

“No no, come here!” Waving her in, so she can plop down next to him on the floor. Candy piled high in between the both of them. A mischievous grin sneaks up on his face, hand already reaching for the movie she’d hate. She was terrified of zombies, for some reason. Something he takes advantage of routinely. Anything to have her curled up next to him, her heat seeping into his side as his hand made a home on the back of her neck. Like usual, like always. Something that still made him feel sickly sweet, her flippant affection for him. It must be nothing for her, to be this close to him.

“Scary movie?” 

She nods, mouth full of chocolate and shirt dangerously low. Her cape piled around her, and her eyes dark as she grins at him. Distracting. 

October, 1984

They had hit a metaphorical dead end when it came to the portal. Something they both feared voicing between the two of them. 

It was hard, almost impossible, to reverse engineer the plans drawn out in the one journal they had on hand. She knew there had to be two more out there, hidden in the woods. A homage to the three corners of the portal that she stared at day in and out. Stanford was like that in a way, flippantly sentimental about the oddest thing. 

Her old friend more than likely buried the other two journals somewhere on the property. Unfortunately for them both they did not know where the property line began and ended, but she more or less figured it was a lot of land to cover. Stan had backed up this claim, explaining to her that first night that Stanford had wanted him to take this first journal, take it with him to the ends of the earth. In hopes that the portal his brother had created couldn’t be replicated. Something they had both dared to do now and something they did not discuss in great lengths either. 

He had put them away in his haste, she figured. He was never one to half-ass anything really, but with the way Stan had described his brother that night he disappeared into the portal, she figured he was not necessarily himself. Not himself, actually at all. She had contemplated it a lot, the fear of otherworldly possession. But had a hard time believing Stanford would let anything into something as sacred as he believed his mind to be. He didn’t even let her up there. 

But the way he described his odd relationship with an entity that happened to be a shape was… distracting. It constantly had her flipping back and forth in the journal, looking for clues as to what Ford was doing in relation to an otherworldly being. He couldn’t help his own curiosity she figured, something she had never blamed him for except for now. Something she cursed him for, now. 

So they had both agreed to move in silence when it came to passing into the tree line of the property. She had more than hinted at their need for caution in communicating with whatever the hell Ford had previously encountered. Stan and Ford both considered themselves adventurers in their own right, which would be admirable if one of them wasn't missing from their current plane of existence. 

They had headed out together one October day, bundled up, and hoping to find signs of Ford on their property line. Hoping to find one of the journals, and nothing else. 

His red coat with a new patch was swung over his shoulders, as she had whined in the doorway that morning. She much preferred his things to her own nowadays. Much preferred to be swallowed by his shirts and jackets, not that he would ever comment. There was just more warmth to his things than her own now, and she preferred the imprint he left on the couch to her own in these colder months. Stealing his spot when he would up and leave for a new drink, laughing when he would come back to claim it. Stealing that imprint of him was her only joy, because it made him laugh and flush differently when she got close now. The closest he had allowed in months, the imprints and loose shirts he’d leave behind. Made something behind her chest ache thinking about it.

Felt slightly disjointed in their trek through the forest now, the thought of the unknown just beyond them both. And no warmth of his jacket to cool the part of her that achingly worried for him now.

But of course, they both had weighed the probability of them encountering some creatures that Ford had sighted in his journal, but she feared encountering something that was not listed in the specific one they had in their possession. Something out in the borders of their home, that they had no knowledge of. 

He was swearing with every step through the underbrush ahead of her, his hand held behind him in case she would need it when trekking through the uneven forest floor. His head held down as he stomped a path into the fallen leaves for her. Her head held up, looking for signs of their long-gone friend somewhere between the trees. 

“Fuck!” She swears, tripping over fallen branches. He reaches back, catching her with the length of his outstretched arm. The first time he had reached for her since he bent to fold her legs across his lap this morning. He felt far away. He was flushed though, worked up with the long trek they both had made. Some odd miles between them and their home now. 

He grunts, lifting her back to her feet with ease. Moving to wipe dead leaves and twigs from her hiking pants unconsciously.

“Should we map this out doll?” 

“Mhm.” She nods, as he reaches back into their shared backpack he had been carrying. Taking out a property map and a compass. He had thought to bring the map, commenting on how they could mark down when they would see odd things throughout the forest, and so they could track where they had already been. She had thought to bring the compass, simply to find their way home. 

She looks down at the unfolded map now held up in his hands, stepping to bend down under his arm, residing in front of his expansive chest and between his outstretched arms. He was warm, she noted, a part of her cooling. 

“Sooooo… I think I saw something around here.” She moved her pencil up, marking along their predetermined path where she thought she had seen tree carvings. She took a step back, running into his chest. Trying to get closer to him, before he would inevitably leave. “I believe we are about 1.5 to 2 miles out from the shack?” She questions, tilting her head back to look at him. 

He grunts, flushed by her proximity. Her back to his chest, he noted how warm she was when she was this close. Her eyes shining up at him in question. She shouldn’t be this close. 

“Mmm, feels like we’ve been walkin’ longer than that.” 

“You may be right.” She hums, her pencil held in her mouth now. “Should we retrace our steps? Get a better estimate? And look at that carving I saw?” 

“Whatever you say, boss.” He grunts, trying to move his eyes away from her. 

“Alright!” She steps back from him, suddenly cold. Ducking beneath his arm and stepping away from him as he begins to fold back up the map. She’d savor whatever he allowed. “Then we’ll be home in time for lunch.” She comments. 

“Can we have those fancy deli sammiches?” 

“Mmmm, sounds good to me.” She shrugs, letting him lead the way back to their home. Trying to find oddities in the tree line, but getting distracted by his shoulders the entirety of the way home. Missing that imprint of him along her back already.

[dilfstar]

daddy dearest

realdad!leon x daughter!reader 3k words. warnings ! incest, forced ddlg, infantilization, slight coercion, drugging, fingering, oral (f), piv, daddy kink, loss of virginity, creampie notes ! mega super awesome thank you 2 @localkiss for the idea and so much of this... wouldn't be able 2 do it without U i love u 🙏 ignore how fast the pills kicked in... just go w it ☹️

You were old enough to move out, get a job, live on your own, be an adult. But he had other plans. What kind of father would he be if he let his sweet, innocent daughter out into the cruel, harsh world? Where people could get you, men could grope you, ruin you! Just the thought of it made his skin crawl…

Leon made sure you stayed home, safe, and tucked away in your childhood bedroom. The walls were still painted in a light pink. Though, the decor was more reminiscent of a 5-year-old's room. Toys and coloring books were everywhere, with stuffed animals watching your every move. Yikes.

All of your old clothes were thrown out, too mature for his liking. What? Was he supposed to let his little girl wear next to nothing around the house? What if he had company over! His friends would eye-fuck you into the next century!

It wasn't like you didn't try to fight it or leave. You just couldn't. He put stuff in your food. You know he does. But how are you supposed to stop him when you can barely walk long enough to get to the bathroom on time? Your legs were turned into useless sticks from all the pills he snuck into your food!

He lived in some kind of delusion. Some made-up world where what he's doing to you was good for you, saving you. Fucking freak! You're his daughter! Not some random girl he met on the street, not some fucked-out whore he picked up from a bar. His child, his own flesh and blood. What kind of dad fucks their own daughter?

A good one! At least according to his definition of the term. A good dad should fuck his daughter’s brains out, leave her full of cum and barely conscious. It's his right. He deserves this after all the years taking care of you!

He didn't really care how you felt about the situation. Why would you be thinking about it in the first place? You're just his dumb little baby, too high to even eat on your own. You needed Daddy for everything. You needed him to feed you, change you into your cute little outfits, bathe you, fuck you until your body gave out. 

He ruined you. Leon took and took and took until you were nothing, just a doll for him to use and abuse with his twisted fantasies. He was a sick, sick man. A sick, twisted man you still loved. More than anything in the world. How could you possibly hate him? He's your daddy! He's just looking out for you.

It all happened so fast. Starting from a simple movie night with your dad. A few too many beers making you a little too needy, clinging to him like you did when you were little. The way you rested on him, used him as a pillow. Oh, it made his heart squeeze!

Your voice was so soft as you cuddled up to him, mumbling Daddy over and over. Leon raked his hands through your hair as you laid your head on his lap, so, so close to his dick. The way you wiggled around so much made it so difficult for him to keep it together. Such a tease, just like your mother.

Maybe that's why he loved you so much. You looked just like her, after all. Same hair, same nose, same lips… He needed you. He needed you so badly that it hurt. His cock ached, craving something warm around it. Something tight. Something perfect, like you.

You would be the best thing, right? I mean, you’re literally made just for him. Meant to be used as his personal fleshlight. The thought of any other guy touching you made him sick to his stomach. He deserved to be the only one! That's when it all clicked inside his head—the perfect plan coming together.

Leon carried you up to your old room, setting you down on the twin-sized bed like a princess, tucking you in with a gentle kiss on the lips. You tasted so sweet, like the strawberry chapstick you always put on. “My beautiful angel… All mine…”

He planted another kiss on your forehead before leaving, running down the stairs to the garage to get some boxes of your old toys and clothes. He had to get everything set up while you were asleep, so you could wake up to your (his) dream!

Your head was pounding the next morning, the sunlight coming in through the window not helping. The sudden attack of pink woke you up instantly. Every single inch of the room you were in looked like a little girl's dream come true. The number of stuffed animals and dolls around you made your eyes burn.

You looked down at the outfit you were wearing, a shocked gasp falling from your lips. What could've possibly happened last night for you to be wearing something straight out of a Justice catalog? In what world would you willingly put on something this childish? 

The door opened, revealing a smiling Leon carrying a tiny cup in his hand, a few pills in the other. “Hey, sweetheart… ’m glad you're awake. Was starting to get worried! Here, I brought you some medicine. Should help with your headache…” 

He handed them over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched you swallow the pills. His stare was focused directly on your body, as if he wanted to pounce on you and attack. It all felt so off, so nauseating. Why was your dad staring at you like a piece of meat? Why did you wake up to all of this?

The room started to spin, your vision blurring as your head hit the pillow behind you. Everything felt so hazy, like a fog rolled into the room, blocking all of it from your view. “Dad… Daddy… What’s happenin’...?”

Leon crawled over to you, pulling back the fluffy comforter, revealing your bare legs underneath. He had to bite back a groan; the sight of you, his daughter, so vulnerable made him feel crazy. His hands moved up your legs slowly, inching towards your inner thighs, pulling them apart to reveal the pink and white polka-dot panties covering your core. He leaned in, inhaling your scent like it was the antidote to an illness he'd been suffering from forever.

“Shh… Just rest… “Daddy's here.” He mumbled, his breathing shallow and fast. His fingers looped underneath the waistband of your panties, gently pulling them off and pocketing them. He needed something for later!

He poked and prodded at your cunt, smiling like a perv at how perfect you looked. The light touches, mixed with his soft breaths sent chills down your spine. Your hips bucked as he brushed against your clit, disgust immediately washing over you. Why was he touching you like this? Why did you like it?

“Need t’see if my girl is a virgin… Make sure she saved herself for me…” He placed his thumb on your clit, pressing down gently, groaning at the way you shuddered from the slight contact. This shouldn't be turning you on. He's your dad, for crying out loud!

He spit on your pussy, eyes twinkling as the glob of saliva dripped down your slit. His fingers moved down to your hole, mixing the spit with your juices as he pushed a digit in. He started with slow, simple movements, soon adding another finger, and then another. 

They moved inside of you so painfully slowly that you wanted to scream at him to move faster! But whatever he gave you earlier made your tongue feel so heavy, your arms and legs felt like 40-pound weights were tied to them. All you could do was let your dad tease you like some jerk.

“Seems like you did… You did so well… I think you deserve a reward, yeah?” He pulled his hand away, causing a small whimper to escape from you. He stared up at you so sweetly, as if you were a princess awakening from a years long slumber. 

Leon leaned down, immediately diving into you. His nose bumped against your clit as he ate you like a starved man at a buffet. His tongue thrust inside of you, lapping at your wetness like an animal. He groaned into your cunt, loving the way you tasted. If he was on death row and got offered his last meal? It would be you.

“‘m close… So close…” You whined, desperately trying to squeeze your legs around his head, still feeling too fuzzy to move a muscle. All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and move your head, your body feeling too much like it was encased in cement. How were you already so sensitive? It’d barely been 5 minutes, and you were this close? 

The room felt like it was spinning again; all of your nerves felt like they were on fire. Pleasure shot up your spine, exploding in your head like a fireworks display. The word Daddy fell from your soft lips like a mantra. Your mouth could only form the one word, your brain filled with thoughts of him. Your breath hitched in your throat as you came, eyes shooting open and rolling to the back of your head. “S’too much… Too much! No more…”

He sat you on his lap like usual, grabbing a spoonful of whatever mushed-up food was on the pink plate in front of you, bringing it to your mouth while making airplane noises. Your mouth fell open like usual, allowing him to shove the head of the spoon in. He wasn’t a bad cook, no. He was just weird. Weird for making you act like a little girl at your age, weird for turning you into a toy.

You just wanted your old life back, when you had friends and other people to talk to. Acting like a kid wasn’t exactly the most fun thing a girl could do. Though you didn’t necessarily hate some of the attention he gave you. How fucked up is that? Liking the way your own dad touches you? What kind of sick freak acts like- Oh. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

He frowned at the way you denied the food, the dull look in your eyes. Why couldn't you just be good for him and eat it? Why did you always have to fight him on this? 

The plastic spoon hit the plate, food flying off it onto the table. His hand moved to your face impossibly fast, fingers digging into your cheeks, squeezing them together as he turned you to face him. “What did I say about acting bratty, hm? No treats for disobedient little girls.”

His grip on you was bruising, his nails digging into your skin, sure to leave crescent-shaped marks. The way he stared into your eyes terrified you. Anger hiding behind his blue irises. He was pissed. He was beyond pissed. Why couldn't you just listen?

“I told you not to do this again. Remember what happened last time? Y’wanna do that again? Sure seems like you do…” Your eyes widened as memories of that night flashed through your mind. The bruises he left all over, the red marks on your ass—how you couldn't sit properly for a week! The threat made you curl into yourself on his lap like a small child being yelled at for stealing from the cookie jar.

He released his grip on you, patting your cheek lightly with a sickly grin. Leon pulled down on your chin, opening your mouth enough to shove the spoon in again, making sure you swallowed the food. “Now, there's a good girl… So good for Daddy, yeah?”

He held onto your jaw as you ate, making sure you couldn't refuse him more. What kind of daughter disobeys their dad? Bad ones. What happens to bad daughters? They get punished.

His punishments were cruel, just meant to be pleasurable only to him. Spanking you with his belt, tying you to your bed, taking away your toys. His favorite was fucking you until you passed out! The way your eyes fluttered shut, how you went limp in his arms. God, he loved it. He loved how scared you were of him, the look of pure fear in your eyes was enough jack-off material to last for weeks!

His fingers curled inside of you, squeezing against the spot that made you see stars. Your head was spinning. Every inch of your body was on fire. “Daddy… I can't do any more… Please!!” You squealed, crushing his wrist between your thighs.

Your hands gripped the pink sheets beneath you for dear life, holding on as if you were about to fall off the side of a building. Bliss shot up your spine, filling you with a feeling of delight and pure disgust. All because of your dear, sweet father.

He smirked down at you, the sight of you writhing underneath him sent all the blood to his cock, the pajama pants he was wearing suddenly feeling a little too tight. “That's it… There's my girl… Y’think you're big enough to take me yet? Think you're ready for me, baby?”

Yes, God, yes! You wanted to scream it, let the world know you wanted to get fucked by your dad! But sadly, all you could do was nod. You looked like a stupid bobblehead toy, silently begging him to rail you into the next universe. None of it mattered when you had him, though. 

He chuckled at how enthusiastic you were, leaning forward to place a tender kiss on your lips, tongue rubbing against your bottom one, asking to be let in. You deepened the kiss, arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling him in close. His hand left your soaked cunt, wiping itself on his pants before moving to the back of your head. He slotted himself between your legs, rutting against your heat as he made out with you. 

His free hand snuck down to his pants, pushing them and his boxers down just enough to pull his dick out. Leon pulled back from the kiss to look down, smirking at how wet you were. He looked up at you for a moment, a sympathetic look in his blue eyes. “This is gonna hurt for sec… Promise I'll be as gentle as I can…” And with that, he slowly pushed in. His head fell at how wonderful you felt around him, like you were already shaped perfectly for his cock.

“S’okay… I’ve got you.” The stretch absolutely burned. It felt like you were in some medieval torture device. At least the drugs he had you doped up on dulled some of the pain…

He moved his hand back to your clit, thumb moving in small circles, trying to make it at least a little more pleasurable for you. He pushed and pushed, inching in slowly until he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His chest heaved as he caught his breath for a moment, the whole situation now overwhelming him. “I’m gonna move now, ‘kay?”

With a small, comforting smile, he pulled back, shoving into you all at once. His thrusts started slow as you adjusted to his size, trying to be careful with you, terrified to hurt you. How could he live with himself if he hurt you without meaning to? Punishments were one thing… But actually harming you? It’d kill him!

Once he fell into a nice rhythm, all rational thoughts flew out the window. The fear of hurting you was gone, he couldn't care less about it now. It was like a switch flipped inside his head. Your walls just squeezed him too perfectly, clamping down on him like a vice.

It all felt so perfect, like it finally made sense. The disgust that was in you melted away at the feeling of him pounding away at you, just using you for what he wanted. It sent your heart into overdrive, the organ beating against your ribcage. Your head dropped back onto the mountain of pillows behind you, cushioning it while you let your father take advantage of you.

He felt like a teenager again, like he did before he met your mother. She was a good fuck, sure, and he did love her, but it just never felt as good as this. Nothing could ever compare to you, to how you felt around him. The way your velvety walls hugged him so wonderfully made his heart flutter in his chest. 

“Daddy… Daddy! S’too much… Can't do it… I-I can't!” You whined, shaking your head from side to side like you were throwing a tantrum. You felt too sensitive, his touches too much for your body to handle. The coil inside of you felt like it was about to snap, like it was about to explode! You didn't know if you could last much longer, and neither did he. His pace got sloppy the closer he got, hips stuttering inside of you.

He finally stilled as thick, hot spurts of cum coated your walls, painting them in a milky white. You squeezed around him, cunt refusing to let him go. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, legs twitching around his waist, accidentally pulling him in impossibly closer. You whined involuntarily as he pulled out, feeling too empty inside without him. He almost came again at the sight of his cum dripping out of you, staining the sheet below. 

“You okay, baby? Are you hurtin’ anywhere?” He checked over you frantically, looking into your eyes like a madman. All you could do in return was give him a sloppy, fucked out smile. A smile that made all the worry in him dissolve. He crawled off the bed, snaking his arms around you bridal style, carrying you off to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

[theonottsbxtch]

TEACHER'S PET PT.4 | CL16

an: final part let's go!! can't wait to hear what you guys think about this and many thanks to @iimplicitt my beloved for writing the smut scene since i absolutely suck at it.

wc: 6.4k

warnings: smut mdni 18+ only, infidelity, oral (f), fingering, unprotected p in v (don't be silly, wrap your willy x)

Charles leaned back in his chair, eyes on the academic papers scattered across his desk, though his attention was elsewhere. Across from him, Professor Gasly was rambling on about departmental logistics, something about reallocating teaching assistants for the next term. Charles nodded occasionally, keeping up appearances, but his mind was already on the ticking clock, counting down the minutes.

Six o’clock was approaching. Too slowly.

He glanced at his watch, trying not to make it obvious. 5:58.

Just a few more minutes.

"And, of course, there’s the issue of the undergrads for next term," Pierre was saying, his voice a steady drone, punctuated by the sound of a page flipping over in his notepad. "You know, I’ve had a number of students in the seminar expressing interest in your modules. You’ve built quite a reputation with them."

Charles gave a noncommittal hum, his mind drifting. He hadn’t been able to focus on much all day. Not after that kiss. The memory of it was still imprinted on his senses—the taste of her, the heat of her skin under his hands, the way she’d looked at him with that intoxicating mix of desire and defiance.

She’ll be here soon.

As if on cue, a movement outside the window caught his eye. He shifted his gaze, and there she was.

She stood just outside his office, her figure outlined by the soft glow of the hallway lights. Her hair was slightly tousled, lips parted as if she was catching her breath. She hadn’t bothered with her usual careful posture—her shoulders were relaxed, almost languid. He could see the anticipation in her stance, even from here. Her eyes darted toward the office door, and for a brief second, their gazes met through the glass.

His pulse quickened.

Pierre, oblivious to the shift in Charles’s attention, continued his monologue. "Of course, I was thinking about restructuring the curriculum for our electives. There’s a student in your lecture—I think she’s in one of mine as well—what’s her name? Oh yes, Miss. Impressive work ethic. Top marks. One of those who really stands out."

Charles turned his head slightly, glancing at Pierre. His colleague followed his line of sight, and Charles knew immediately he’d seen her standing outside.

"Ah, speaking of," Pierre said, his tone slightly more interested now. "That’s her, isn’t it? Always punctual, always prepared. You’ve got a meeting with her, I assume?"

Charles felt his throat tighten, though his expression remained composed. "Yes," he said evenly, trying to maintain the professional front. "She needs help with an assignment for another module. I promised to take a look."

Pierre glanced back toward the window, where she still waited, her body bathed in the soft glow of the evening light. His gaze lingered on her for a moment too long, his eyes subtly sweeping up and down her figure before he turned back to Charles with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, she certainly has the kind of focus we like to see," Pierre remarked, a thin smirk playing on his lips. "You don’t come across students like her every day."

Charles’s jaw clenched, though he nodded, forcing himself to keep his tone neutral. "She’s dedicated," he said, his voice a little lower than before.

Pierre leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, clearly in no hurry to leave. "Very dedicated," he agreed, still smirking. "Maybe she’ll volunteer to be your TA next year, she’s a good one."

Charles’s eyes flicked back to the window, where she had shifted her weight, crossing her arms, the smallest hint of impatience in her stance. The way her blouse clung to her frame made it impossible for him to focus on anything Pierre was saying.

He needed to get this over with. Now.

"Pierre," he said, cutting into the professor’s musings. "I’ve really got to get started with her. We’re on a tight deadline."

Pierre chuckled softly and stood up, collecting his notepad and pushing his chair back. "Of course, of course. I’ll leave you to it. Tell Miss I said she’s doing excellent work."

Charles nodded, already standing as Pierre made his way to the door. As Pierre opened it, he gave her a polite nod on his way out. "Good evening, Miss," he said.

She responded with a quiet, "Good evening, Professor Gasly," her voice steady, though her eyes were firmly on Charles as she stepped into the office.

Pierre disappeared down the hall, leaving them alone.

The door clicked shut, and the silence that filled the room was thick, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

She stood in the centre of the room, her gaze on him, unblinking, waiting for him to make the next move.

Charles took a slow breath, the tension in the air between them building as they regarded each other. The boundaries they’d already crossed lingered in the space between them, ready to be shattered completely.

Without a word, he gestured toward his desk, though he wasn’t entirely sure either of them intended to sit.

"Close the door," he said, his voice low, firm.

She didn’t hesitate. The door clicked shut once more, this time locking them in the room together with all the desire and recklessness that had been simmering since their last encounter.

It was six o'clock, and they both knew exactly what they were here for. Charles’s gaze met hers. The tension in the room was palpable, thick with unspoken desire. She stood in the centre of his office, her eyes dark with intent, and without a word, she slowly moved toward his desk.

Charles’s pulse quickened as he watched her, the anticipation humming in his veins. She didn’t hesitate—she just sat on the edge of his desk, her posture casual, yet there was nothing casual about the way she looked at him.

Her legs crossed at the ankle, her skirt sliding just slightly up her thighs as she perched on the edge of the wooden surface. The soft glow of the lamp on his desk cast her in a warm light, but it was the heat in her eyes that held him captive.

She didn’t say anything. Neither did he. There was no need for words right now.

Instead, Charles moved toward the windows, crossing the room with deliberate, measured steps. He could feel her eyes on him the entire time, watching, waiting. His hands gripped the cord of the blinds, pulling it down, and in one smooth motion, the office was sealed off from the outside world. The blinds fell shut with a quiet thud, the last sliver of daylight vanishing, leaving them enclosed in the dim intimacy of the room.

When he turned back to face her, she hadn’t moved. She still sat on the edge of his desk, her hands resting casually at her sides, but there was a fire burning in her eyes, a challenge, an invitation.

Charles’s breath came heavier now, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on him, but he didn’t resist it. He crossed the room until he was standing right in front of her, close enough to feel the heat of her body. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, the way her breath had quickened, mirroring his own.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, she raised a finger to her lips, silencing him with nothing but a quiet shh.

The move caught him off guard, but he didn’t fight it. He stood there, frozen for a moment, as she leaned forward, her fingers curling around the end of his tie. She tugged on it gently, just enough to pull him closer. His breath hitched as he allowed himself to be drawn toward her, the distance between them shrinking until there was barely any space left.

And then, before he could process it, her lips were on his.

The kiss was hot, urgent, a collision of need and desire that made his mind go blank. Her hands twisted in his tie, pulling him even closer as her mouth moved against his with a hunger that matched his own. There was no hesitation this time, no second-guessing—just the raw, electric connection that had been building between them for weeks.

Charles groaned softly against her lips, his hands finding her waist, fingers curling around the fabric of her skirt as he pulled her against him. The feel of her body pressed to his sent a jolt of electricity down his spine, and he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping against hers, tasting her, claiming her.

Her legs parted slightly as she shifted on the desk, drawing him in closer until he was standing between them. Her fingers moved from his tie to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, her hands insistent, needy. Every brush of her fingers against his skin sent sparks through him, each touch driving him further over the edge.

He let out a low, throaty growl, his hands sliding up her sides, feeling the softness of her body under his palms. Her skin was warm, inviting, and he wanted nothing more than to explore every inch of it, to lose himself in the feel of her.

But she wasn’t passive in any of this. Her hands were everywhere—his tie, his shirt, his hair. She was guiding the kiss now, setting the pace, her lips moving against his with an urgency that made his heart pound in his chest.

She kissed him deeper, harder, like she couldn’t get enough. And neither could he.

Charles’s hands slid up her back, tangling in her hair as he tilted her head back, giving him better access to her lips, her neck. He kissed a trail down her jawline, his breath ragged against her skin. Her hands were pulling him closer still, tugging at his shirt, her nails grazing his chest through the fabric.

His self-control was unravelling, faster than he’d expected. Every touch, every kiss was a reminder of just how far they’d already crossed the line. And yet, instead of pulling back, he was sinking deeper, his body pressing into hers, his lips trailing down her throat, tasting the softness of her skin.

She moaned softly in response, her fingers gripping his shirt tighter, her body arching into him. The sound of her voice—low, breathy, filled with need—sent a surge of desire through him that was impossible to ignore.

He was on the edge, teetering between reason and pure instinct, and all it would take was one more moment, one more kiss, to push him over.

And then the sound of his own ragged breath reminded him where they were. His office. His desk. The world was just outside that door, but right now, it felt like they were the only two people in existence.

His lips hovered just above hers, their breaths mingling as they both paused, the reality of their situation crashing over them for a brief second.

Her hands were still on him, her fingers tangled in his shirt. His own hands rested on her hips, thumbs brushing the soft skin just above her waistband. They were both caught up in the moment, knowing they should stop but unable to find the will to do so.

The only thing that broke the silence between them was the quiet, unsteady beat of their breaths.

"Slow down," Charles muttered against her lips, his voice husky and ragged. His breath came in shallow gasps as he gently pulled back, his hands slipping from her waist. He stepped away from her, creating just enough space to catch his breath, though the need still burned in his eyes.

She blinked, her chest rising and falling quickly as she looked at him, clearly reluctant to stop. Her hands hovered in the air, as if unsure of what to do now that he’d created distance between them.

Charles took a steadying breath and stepped back toward his chair, his hands running through his tousled hair. He didn’t break eye contact, though, not for a second. The heat between them hadn’t lessened—it had only intensified, simmering just below the surface.

He sank into his chair, his tie still loose around his neck, his shirt slightly undone from where her fingers had been. His gaze never left her as he slowly leaned back, legs parted, watching her with that dark, hungry look that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Mon Ange, viens la," he said softly, his voice a low, velvet command.

She hesitated for only a second before lifting her leg towards him, her body still thrumming with the tension that hung in the air. He reached out, his hand curling around her ankle, and slowly guided her leg up, placing her foot on his knee.

She balanced herself, her breath catching as she felt the warmth of his hand on her calf.

Charles's fingers moved with deliberate slowness, unbuckling the strap of her shoe. His touch was light, teasing, as he slid the shoe off her foot, letting it drop to the floor with a quiet thud. His hands lingered on her skin, his thumb brushing soft circles over her ankle as he looked up at her, eyes heavy with intent.

"You have no idea," he whispered, his voice roughened with barely controlled desire. "What you do to me."

Her breath hitched at the way he was looking at her, the intensity in his gaze making her knees feel weak.

His hand slid up her calf, slowly, agonisingly slowly, as though he was savouring every inch of her skin. He leaned forward slightly, his lips grazing her ankle in a featherlight kiss, barely a whisper of contact. It sent a jolt of heat through her, her body tightening in response.

"I’ve been thinking about this," he murmured, his mouth brushing the curve of her calf now, kissing a path higher. "Since the moment you walked through my door."

Her fingers curled into the edge of his desk for balance as his lips travelled upward, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along her leg. His hand slid higher, gripping her thigh just enough to make her breath catch, as his mouth moved slowly, achingly slowly, up the inside of her calf.

"You make it impossible to focus on anything else," he whispered against her skin, his breath warm as he kissed higher still, his lips now nearing her knee. "When you sit in my class, all I can think about… is this."

She felt her pulse quicken, her body responding to every word, every kiss. Her skin tingled where his lips touched, each caress leaving her more breathless than the last. The intimacy of the moment—the slowness, the tenderness—was almost overwhelming, the way he was worshipping her with his mouth and hands.

Her hand, which had been resting on the desk, slid down to his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she watched him, unable to look away. He was taking his time, drawing out the moment, making every second feel like it was teetering on the edge of something deeper, something reckless.

Charles kissed the inside of her knee, then paused, his lips hovering over her skin as he looked up at her. His eyes were dark, filled with a kind of raw hunger that made her shiver.

"But you need to understand something," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper now. "Once we go further, there's no going back."

He kissed higher, just above her knee, his hand still gripping her thigh gently. The sensation sent waves of heat through her, her body practically buzzing under his touch.

"Do you want that?" His voice was rough, but the question was deliberate. He needed to hear it, needed to know.

She swallowed, her heart pounding as her fingers tightened their grip on his shoulder. For a brief moment, she hesitated, the weight of the situation hanging heavily between them. But then her eyes met his, and all the hesitation melted away, replaced by the undeniable pull that had been simmering between them for weeks.

This was what she wanted.

Instead of answering with words, she leaned down, closing the space between them again, her fingers sliding up the back of his neck, into his hair. She pulled him to her, their lips crashing together in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

His fingers dug into her thighs and the warmth of her mouth against his was overwhelming. This moment in his office felt existential, as if infinity was laid before him so he could experience everything life had to offer him in the form of her body. Charles didn’t know if he was getting ahead of himself, or maybe he was just a hopeless romantic, but this felt like more than lust. More than hormones and lingering glances. More than just a one time thing. 

She was so soft yet every touch was electric, making each of his nerves vibrate in anticipation as he slowly pushed out each of her knees. A light gasp escaped her mouth, the hot breath invading his senses and he couldn’t help the way his lips tugged up at the sides. Pulling away from her mouth was one of the most difficult things he had ever done given the way her lips were swollen and glistening, her eyes fluttering in a daze. 

He kept eye contact with her as he leaned down, slowly kissing up between her thighs, his mouth open and leaving a wet trail that made goosebumps erupt up her skin. She was trembling against him, sensitive and anxious and he nearly laughed if it wasn’t for the slight look of concern that furrowed her brows. Charles left one last kiss at the apex of her thigh before stopping. 

“What’s wrong, mon ange?”

She swallowed thickly, her pupils blown wide and eyes glowing in the darkness. “Nothing, it’s just,” she took a deep breath, blushing slightly in what was clearly embarrassment. “No one has ever really done this before.”

Charles tilted his head to the side, not quite sure what she was getting at. “You’ve never…had sex before?” If she hadn’t, that was fine. Everyone’s life moved in different stages but he needed to know how careful-

“What? No, no.” She covered her face with her hands and let out a nervous laugh. 

Charles began to rub soothing circles into her legs, wanting her to be as comfortable as possible when she was with him. He wanted her to give him everything, and he’d give her his soul in return if she’d take it. 

“Hey,” he gently grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands down, kissing the backs of both as he looked at her. “Tell me what's going on.”

She sighed, biting at the inside of her cheek as she debated. A few moments later the words spilled out. 

“No one has ever gone down on me before.”

Charles blinked at her as if someone had just slapped him. Not being able to wrap his mind around how not one of her past flings ever offered. Or maybe none of them were good enough for her to want them to. He went to open his mouth to say something but she kept going.

“You don’t have to.”

This time, it was Charles’ brows that furrowed in concern. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that I— don’t worry about it.”

“Logan has never done it, has he?” Her boyfriend's name was sharp in the quiet room, an uncomfortable reminder of how wrong this really was. 

She didn’t say anything and Charles squeezed her hands. “Has he even offered?” She looked away from him, biting at her lip before eventually shaking her head.

“No, he hasn’t.”

Charles let out a long sigh as he watched her with such strong intent it made her shift slightly where she was sitting, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red if possible. 

His hands let go of hers, falling to her thighs as he slowly trailed them upwards, fingers disappearing under the hem of her skirt and he watched as her breath hitched. Charles continued to watch her as his hands explored further, pushing her skirt up around her waist and a barely audible prayer left him as his eyes caught sight of the white cotton panties she was wearing. She was wet, that much was obvious from the damp spot that could be seen and he felt as if the world had stopped moving just for the pair of them, the universe giving them a small moment of infinity. 

He leaned forward, kissing her navel and his hot breath danced over her covered pussy and she trembled against him, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Sir,” her voice wavered, thick with anticipation and lust. 

Charles' eyes flicked up to hers, his mouth hovering over where he knew she needed him most. “Please, mon ange. Let me do this for you.” He sounded desperate, and by god he was. She was the air that he breathed and he needed her permission to do this or he thought he might drop dead by tomorrow. Driven mad by all the what if’s and the way his name might sound when she moaned it. 

She stared at him for a tense moment before nodding once.

He didn’t hesitate as he lowered his mouth right over her clothed clit, rubbing circles into it with his tongue and her hips bucked up into his face as a surprised shout left her. One hand dug into his hair while the other slapped itself over her mouth. 

Charles worked her with his mouth with the fervour of a man who had just had his first taste of salvation. Desperate to chase more and reach heaven, the sounds leaving her throat despite how hard she was trying to keep quiet were a twisted form of a holy prayer. Blessing him over and over again.

Her hands were twined in his hair, tugging in a way that made the pain deliriously pleasurable as she yanked him closer. 

“Please,” she panted, not sounding quite like herself but the slight rasp to her voice could be equated to a siren leading him to his downfall. Perhaps she was. “Please, sir.”

As much as he adored the term, the sick satisfaction of it and how wrong it was, he wanted to hear something else fall from her pretty lips. 

“Say my name, ma chéri. Then ask me again.” He pressed a kiss to her clit and gasped sharply.

“Charles, please.” She pulled on his hair so his eyes could meet her’s, and there was a glimmer of determination mixed in with the storm of lust. “Give me everything.”

“Everything?”

“I want it all.”

He wasn’t sure what came over him, perhaps it was something primal, something that he hasn’t even dared to explore, but his hand wound itself around the strap of her underwear at her hip and yanked until the sound of fabric ripping echoed in the room. His mind was consumed by her, the feeling of her skin and what she would taste like with no barriers left. The line they had crossed was forgotten and blurred in the distance. Irrelevant.

He placed a hand beneath each of her knees and lifted, spreading her wide for him and he was sure he would come undone right there and then. Charles was already painfully hard and just looking at how wet she was for him was enough to make him come. But he needed this to last and he would kill himself if she didn’t enjoy every moment of this night together. 

His eyes flicked up and held hers as he pressed the flat of his tongue at the bottom of her entrance, licking a long stripe up before closing his mouth over her clit. Revelling in the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head and his name tumbled out of her mouth like it was a mantra that would lead to salvation. 

Her nails dug into his scalp, any self restraint she had long forgotten as she moaned and pushed her hips closed to his mouth. Slipping into delirium as his tongue circled her clit in tight circles. A scream nearly tearing through her as two of his thick fingers sunk into her cunt with no warning, the even thrusts of them had her panting.

Charles felt like headed. Hoping to any higher power that this was real and his mind wasn’t playing cruel tricks on him. She tasted devine and she was constantly clenching on his fingers, begging for more. Begging for a release. 

He was so hard it was painful, one of his hands sneaking down to give his cock a hard squeeze. Anything for some relief. Charles wasn’t helping his own case as he inserted a third finger, crooking them up and hitting that spot that made her scream his name as she came against him, liquid and cum spilling out and he wasn’t letting a drop get wasted as he continued to eat her out. Lowering his mouth to her entrance and his fingers trailed up to her clit, not letting up and she convulsed in over stimulation.

“Charles, oh my god!” Her legs tried to snap themselves shut but he didn’t let up. He felt crazed and she let out a guttural sound as she came again. 

He finally pulled back, a delirious grin on his face and his chin shining from the aftermath as he watched her fall back on her elbows trying to catch her breath. 

“That was… oh my god.”

Charles stood and began to unbutton his shirt. “I’m nowhere near done with you yet, darling.” Her breath caught as her eyes followed the movements of his hands. Watching in what seemed like admiration as he shrugged his shirt off and let it fall to the floor. She seemed more entranced with his hands when he began to undo his belt however, her attention apt as Charles slowly pulled it free from the loops and undid his zipper. 

When he finally rid himself of his trousers and the cool air from the office hit his cock he shivered, the tip was leaking and clearly desperate for release. Charles stepped closer to her, closing the distance and he slowly pushed her onto her back, not caring about the stacks of paper that fell to the floor. 

Leaning down, his breath danced across her neck and he smirked into her skin as she shuddered against him. “Mon amour,” his voice was low, gravely. Not quite familiar. “I am going to ruin you for anyone else.”

He entered her completely within a breath, the action brutal and unforgiving but with the way she moaned and clenched around him, he knew she loved it. Charles kissed her neck before straightening, grabbing hold of her hips and pulling back, watching in sick satisfaction as his cock slammed back into her. 

She was moaning his name with no care in the world, her screams mixed with the lewd sounds of skin slapping against each other. She was everything to him. She was all he could think about. All he could feel. His existence was in her hands now and he’d never be able to get enough of her. Not until the day he dropped dead and even then he would long for her from the grave. 

The sharp sound of a phone ringing felt like a tuning fork struck right against the ears drums. Charles didn’t stop, though. She didn’t even seem like she noticed, her head still thrown back and mouth agape as he continued his relentless pace. 

His eyes strayed to the lit up screen.

Logan.

His contact picture glowing up at him, the American smiling brightly with his arm draped over your shoulder. 

Charles shouldn’t have done it, but he didn’t regret it either as he hit the answer icon and tossed the phone to the side. 

“Fuck, Charles I’m going to come.“

“Let it out, mon amour. Give me all of you.” His hand snaked down between their bodies, rubbing tight circles into her clit and he watched in pure adoration as she came on his cock. Charles followed not a moment later, her name echoing around the room followed by their heavy breaths as he collapsed on top of her. 

The air in the room was thick, their ragged breaths the only sound breaking the silence. She lay sprawled on the desk, still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling heavily. Her hand slipped from Charles’ shoulder as he rolled off her, his own breathing just as uneven. The remnants of their reckless act were scattered around them—clothes on the floor, papers thrown askew in the heat of the moment.

For a split second, everything was still.

Then, the door creaked open.

Both of them froze, eyes darting toward the door, panic seizing her heart like ice.

There, standing in the doorway, was Logan. His eyes, wide with shock, scanned the scene—the two of them barely dressed, her legs still exposed from where her skirt had been pushed up, Charles’ shirt hanging open, his tie askew. The mess on the floor, the heavy air, the undeniable truth.

Logan’s face shifted from shock to something worse—a mixture of hurt, disbelief, and fury.

“Wow.” It was the only word he could muster, low and bitter, dripping with betrayal.

Her breath caught in her throat, panic surging through her body. She scrambled off the desk, her heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst through her chest. “Wait—please, I can explain—”

But he was already turning, shaking his head in disbelief as he backed out of the room, his face contorted in pain.

“No, don’t—wait!” she cried, desperately grabbing her blouse from the floor, pulling it on hastily as she stumbled after him. Her hands were shaking, her mind racing, trying to figure out how to fix what couldn’t be fixed.

Logan didn’t stop. He walked out of the door, his pace quickening as he stormed down the hallway. The echo of his footsteps sounded deafening in the otherwise silent building.

“Please! Just let me explain!” she called after him, her voice cracking, but it was as if he couldn’t even hear her.

She was halfway down the hall when she caught up to him, grabbing his arm and turning him toward her. “Please, let me explain. It’s not—”

“Not what?” he snapped, his voice sharp, full of anger and pain. He yanked his arm out of her grip, his eyes cold as they locked onto hers. “Not what it looks like? You think I’m stupid? I saw everything. I heard and now walked in and saw you—” He stopped, shaking his head like he couldn’t even finish the sentence, like it was too painful to put into words.

She swallowed, her throat dry, her chest tight with guilt. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, I—”

“You didn’t mean for it to happen?” he repeated, his voice rising. “You didn’t mean for what to happen? You didn’t mean to fuck him behind my back? Or did you just not mean for me to find out?”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, her chest tightening painfully. She didn’t know what to say. There were no words to make this better. No explanation that could undo what had just happened.

“And what, he’s a better man than me?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice quieter now but filled with a kind of desperation she hadn’t heard from him before.

She froze. The question hit her like a punch to the gut. 

“I—” Her voice faltered. She didn’t know how to answer.

Her hesitation was all he needed. He let out a bitter, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Logan turned to leave again, his movements stiff, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Don’t walk away. I didn’t—”

But he was already gone, his footsteps echoing down the hallway until the sound faded into silence.

She stood frozen in the hallway, her heart still pounding, her breath shallow and uneven as Logan’s figure disappeared down the dim corridor. It was as though she had been cast out—left stranded in the wake of her own betrayal. Her mind screamed to run after him, to beg for forgiveness, to undo the irreversible, but her feet stayed rooted to the ground.

With trembling hands, she turned back toward the office door. The room she had once thought of as a sanctuary now felt like something else entirely—an altar, a place of confession, a place where she had surrendered too much.

When she pushed the door open, the heavy silence greeted her, thick as sin. Charles sat behind his desk, utterly unbothered by what had just transpired. He reclined in his chair, his shirt still undone, a cigarette lazily burning between his fingers. The soft tendrils of smoke curled upward, like incense rising from a ritual long completed.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, the weight of it slamming shut like the gates of something holy—something she was now forever barred from.

Charles watched her through the haze of smoke, his eyes sharp, reflective. His mouth curved into the faintest hint of a smile, as if all of this was inevitable—as if the fall had been predestined. He took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly, the smoke coiling in the air like the whisper of a prayer.

“You’re back,” he said quietly, his voice smooth, almost like a benediction.

She stood in the middle of the room, the guilt burning in her chest, her throat tight with everything she couldn’t say. The weight of her own sin felt unbearable now, but Charles’ eyes held her captive, calm and untroubled, as if nothing sacred had been broken.

“I ruined everything,” she whispered, her voice fragile and cracked, like glass about to shatter.

His gaze stayed steady on her. “No,” he said simply, his voice low, like a confession offered in the stillness of a church. “You didn’t.”

She blinked, confusion crossing her face. How could he say that? How could he be so certain when everything felt so wrong? Her world had crumbled. The altar of her relationship, her conscience—it was all in ruins.

Charles extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, his movements slow, deliberate. He stood up from his chair and walked around the desk with the grace of someone who had already seen the ending, who knew the story was written long before they’d ever acted it out.

When he reached her, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes tracing her face like he was reading her soul.

“He’s out of the picture now,” he said softly, almost reverently.

Her breath caught. The way he said it, like this was some divine plan, made her chest tighten. “I didn’t want this,” she whispered, the lie trembling on her lips, tainted with uncertainty.

Charles’ smile widened, though there was something dark in his gaze. He reached out, brushing a thumb against her cheek, his touch tender but loaded with something more—something dangerous, something tempting. “Didn’t you?”

The words hung between them, heavy with the weight of her unspoken desires. He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing as though they were locked in some secret prayer, a communion that only they could share.

“You wanted this,” he whispered, his voice low, like a psalm of temptation. “You wanted me.”

Her breath hitched, her pulse racing as the truth stirred within her. She had tried to deny it, tried to resist, but standing there, under his gaze, she felt stripped bare—her defences falling like the last walls of a crumbling cathedral. He saw her, truly saw her, and it was terrifying how deeply he knew her desires, how easily he could pull her into them.

She shook her head weakly, as though she could shake off the truth, but the words faltered. The pull was too strong. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she said, her voice wavering like a confession whispered in the darkness of a confessional.

Charles’ eyes darkened as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, his voice a hushed, dangerous promise. “You’re free now,” he murmured, as though he were offering her salvation.

The weight of that word—free—hung in the air, almost sacrilegious. Freedom wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to feel like falling.

He stepped even closer, his hand finding its way to the small of her back, pulling her against him in one fluid motion. She felt her knees weaken, the space between them vanishing as his lips hovered just above hers, his breath a ghost of temptation on her skin.

“No more pretending,” he whispered, the words slipping between them like a vow.

She felt the heat of his gaze burning through her, igniting something reckless, something she couldn’t control. And in that moment, she realised there was no turning back. The fall had already begun.

Charles’ hand trailed down her arm, his touch soft but insistent. He was pulling her in, and she was letting him. She wasn’t running. Not anymore.

And when their lips met, it was more than a kiss—it was an offering, a surrender. His lips moved against hers slowly, deliberately, as if savouring the taste of her guilt, of her desire, as though it was all part of some twisted prayer they were both too willing to say.

But the peace that should have followed never came. Instead, it left her breathless, hollow.

She broke away, her mind spinning, her body trembling with the force of it all. “But he…Logan” The words were a last, desperate plea for redemption, but even she could hear how weak they sounded.

Charles didn’t hesitate. His grip on her tightened, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “He’s gone now. It’s just us.”

There was something almost triumphant in his voice, something darkly satisfied, as though he’d been waiting for this all along. He pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes, his expression unreadable, save for the gleam of possession in his gaze.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice like a prayer. “And I don’t intend to share.”

the end.

comment if you'd like to be tagged in my works

[ohbueckers]

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME. i’m not scared of it, she ain’t either.

CHAPTER SIX! pairing, paige bueckers x teammate!oc. notes, hey… writers block got my ass but i’m backkk. decided this fic will be split into two separate parts (ish) the 22-23 season is mostly just lore filling but hopefully still enjoyable, and then the second will be 23-24. enjoy sugarsss warnings, sexual content.

october, 2022

“shots on me!”

my head shoots up to find the source of the sound, and of course, it’s paige. she’s basking in the sudden attention so well you’d be surprised that we had to convince her to come. the whole table cheers like it’s the greatest news they’ve heard all night, and i watch, a faint smile on my face as she strolls over to the bar, keeping her promise.

i lean back in my chair, adjusting my neck that had just been previously broken to look back at her. i glance over at the propped up phone in front of ice, the tiktok livestream running with a small handful of views climbing by the minute. i grin, dramatic, before draping both of my arms over ice’s shoulders and resting my head against her, leaning into the moment. “guys, pour one up for isuneh staying responsible tonight!” i joke, exaggerating my voice.

ice laughs, nudging me with her elbow but not enough to push me off. “you gotta chill,” she says, turning slightly toward the camera with a smirk. “you see what i have to deal with? sana thinks she’s funny.”

i glare at her, playfully removing my arms from around her. “know so,” i retort.

before i can settle back into the noise of the room, nika and aubrey have made their way over, and are now fully invested in entertaining the growing comments. they start playing it up, making faces and gesturing wildly at the camera while ice chuckles, leaning into it all. sober or not, it was really easy to have a good time with this team.

i let myself sink into my own world for a moment, head spinning just slightly as i pull out my phone again, this time to stare at the birthday post i’d put up for paige earlier. i didn’t want to stare at it, but it had been getting a lot of traction. the first slide is a video from one of our late-night sessions at the gym—a grainy shot of paige casually sinking a full-court shot, her back to the camera. she’d turned around just in time to see the ball swish clean through the net, flashing that smug smile she always gave when she knew she was about to show off. it was late, maybe around midnight, and i remember being just tired enough to think i might’ve imagined it if i hadn’t caught it on film.

when the video ended, my other post appeared. it was a photo from the first official day of practice earlier in october that the media team had took and posted. paige, clad in her #5 workout tee had my head snuggled in between her arms, smiling wide as ever, while i on the other hand had one hand wrapped around her torso, the other on my side, smiling all picture-perfect.

a great resemblance of our dynamic if you asked me.

the caption had been simple enough. happy birthday to this blonde lady i found. backcourt next year will go braaazzzy 🏆. i didn’t think much of it, really, but the more i thought about it, the more insane it must’ve looked that sana caruso was now all buddy-buddy with paige bueckers.

not acquainted, friends.

i smiled at it for another beat before locking my phone, leaning back against the chair with a sigh. i’d been distant most of the night, i suppose. practice earlier hadn’t exactly gone the way i wanted it to, and it was messing with me. paige might’ve been injured, but i was starting, and expectations were high—higher than usual this season, which i hadn’t completely came to terms with yet, and i needed to. soon.

“sana, you’re going to be a huge part of this team this year. we need you to step up—not just as a scorer, but as a leader.” geno’s voice was gruff, his eyes on mine. “you’ve got it in you, but you’ve been holding back. let’s see the player we recruited. the one we know you are.”

sure it wasn’t meant to be much more than a pep talk, but i’m way too much of an over thinker for words like those not to stick. i have been holding back. i do need to step up for a team that had just become mine.

lost in that thought, i didn’t notice paige approaching until a shot glass slid in front of me, barely stopping before it hit my hand.

“i meant you too, ruso,” she said, a sly grin spreading across her face as she leaned in, making sure i knew she was talking to me.

i grinned at her, realizing i hadn’t been drinking as much as the others tonight. not that it was a bad thing—after practice earlier, i needed to keep my head straight—but then again, this was paige’s birthday. maybe it was time to let loose a little, and paige was good at that.

“what is it?” i asked, lifting the glass to my lips and tipping it back easily before getting an answer.

much to my dismay, i probably should’ve waited for paige’s response. vodka. i coughed lightly as the burn hit, squeezing my eyes shut for a second as the heat rushed through me. of course, she’d pick the strongest thing on the menu. i should’ve known better.

paige laughed, eyes following mine as she watched me recover. “you good, ma? thought you could hang with me.”

i shook my head, glaring at her. “i can hang. just didn’t expect gasoline.”

she leaned in closer, her breath warm against my neck. “that’s the point. birthday girl gets the good stuff.” i can feel her eyes on me, following my movements as she pipes up, “why you been wall sittin’ all night?”

i chuckle, looking up at her taller figure through my lashes. only for a moment though. my attention drifted back to the empty shot glass in front of me, twirling it absentmindedly between my fingers. “don’t worry about me,” i shoo her playfully. “my phone’s been blowing up, though. let’s talk about that,” i then state simply, raising an eyebrow.

paige smiles smugly, letting out a breathy laugh. “you know they eat that shit up.”

i smile, too—shaking my head. “yeah, maybe. or they just like you too much.”

paige grabs hold of the shot glass, forcing my attention to advert to her. “you like me too much.”

our eyes met, and i caught how she sized me up. her blue eyes were dangerously low, almost hungry. the heat from the vodka wasn’t just in my throat anymore; it was creeping up my neck, and i didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from the way paige was watching me. her tongue darted out, swiping across her lips, and i needed to get out of this chair.

like, now.

i swallowed—not visibly as i pushed past the sudden tension and mumbled, “c’mon.” i motioned toward the bar. paige smirked, lips glistening from her spit as she held her hand out for me to take, and i hesitated for just a second before sliding my hand into hers.

she helped me down from the bar stool easily, her opposite steadying me, and then we were strolling over together, her fingers still loosely wrapped around mine. it was so normal, like it didn’t mean anything, but we both knew it did.

we strolled over to the bar, and paige was quick to order another round. things felt relatively normal at first, just the two of us, but only got worse after every shot. i’d even taught paige that the real culprit for a night like this wasn’t vodka but tequila. naturally, she’d laughed me off, but the alcohol in my bloodstream had me ordering a mojito, daring her to try it. paige, never one to back down from a challenge, grabbed the glass from my hand before i could even take a sip.

“you’ve been over here way too long,” i said, my voice lower now, the words slipping out with a hint of something i couldn’t quite control. i leaned against the bar, chin propped up in my hand. “it’s your birthday.”

paige raised a brow. her back was against the bar, her eyes flashing as she looked ahead, shrugging. “i’m exactly where i wanna be.”

i licked my lips. “right. and that’s stuck over here with me?” i shouldn’t have asked. i knew the answer.

paige turned toward me, leaning one arm against the counter, her body now fully angled in my direction. “yeah, somethin’ like that. that a problem?”

her gaze dropped to my lips for a second, just long enough to make me forget how to breathe properly. i shifted, trying to keep cool, but she was too damn close now. “guess not,” i muttered.

“good,” she murmured back immediately, her lips curving into that half-smile. there was this constant back and forth between us—like some game of who would have the upper hand of the day, and right now, it was paige. it was all paige.

her eyes flicked down again, and i internally wanted to curse at her. my throat tightened—but i couldn’t look away. “paige—“ i started, and my voice was barely there.

“yeah?” she asked, eyes still locked on me. every inch of her body screamed focus, intent.

“we should regroup.” i nodded towards our teammates, but paige was stilled.

“right.”

i swallowed hard, knowing exactly where this was headed, feeling the pull in the pit of my stomach. “we can’t do this here,” i whispered, a last-ditch effort to keep my head straight as i began chewing on my bottom lip. we were even closer now, and i couldn’t comprehend when that had happened either.

paige smirked, tilting her head and blinking slowly. the gold chain that sat so nicely on her chest swung slightly as she shifted her weight. my mind was racing, trying to remind myself of all the reasons why this was a bad idea—why i shouldn’t, why we couldn’t. “why not?”

i swallowed. my throat was dry. “people. the team.”

paige furrowed her eyebrows, nodding like it was obvious. “oh, yeah. for sure.” but she didn’t budge. and i swore she was moving closer.

before i could stop myself, i sighed out, almost dreamily, like i’d had some pressure built up. “but i wanna.” damn that fucking vodka.

paige nodded, eyes glued to my lips. “mhm? wanna what, ma?”

and before i could come up with a response that was any less desperate than the last to redeem myself, before i could stop myself, i closed the gap.

━━━

her lips were soft. softer than that night in the car if that were possible.

we were stumbling, half-laughing, half-drunkenly colliding down an empty hallway, our hands everywhere and nowhere all at once. my back hit the wall first, and her body pressed into mine, the weight of her against me felt… perfect. sana’s hands were in my hair, pulling slightly, like she absolutely needed to feel me, and i wasn’t about to complain.

i could feel the cool tile behind me, but all that mattered was the heat between us. my hand slid up her neck, fingers resting just under her jaw, and i heard her gasp against my lips. fucking perfect.

“fuck,” i muttered between kisses, my voice a little more breathless than i wanted it to be. “you kiss like you been waitin’ on this.”

she laughed softly, the sound vibrating against my lips. “maybe i have.”

i pulled back just enough to see her eyes, barely able to catch my breath. my hand tightened around her neck as i leaned in again, dragging my lips across hers, speaking right against her skin. her skin was damp, mine too, probably. “you know you could’ve had this whenever you wanted it, baby.”

she didn’t pull back, just let her hands explore the length of my torso. “couldn’t have. you’re you.” sana’s grip on my hips tightened, pulling me flush against her as she pressed her lips back to mine. this time, there was no holding back. the kiss deepened, hungry, like she was making up for all the times she thought she couldn’t. i let her take what she wanted, but damn if i wasn’t right there with her, needing her just as badly.

“bathroom?” i mumbled. my mouth moved to her neck, peppering kisses down her skin, tasting the heat of her pulse.

sana’s breath hitched, and she nodded, her hands gripping the back of my shirt. “bathroom, yeah.”

luckily, it was empty. it was a thursday after all. we barely made it inside before i was hoisting her up, my hands gripping her thighs as she arched on the counter. the brighter light in here felt like a spotlight, like there was no hiding now—not that either of us wanted to. her breath hitched as i moved my mouth lower, kissing down her neck, my fingers sliding into the waistband of her jeans and hastily pulling them down.

i dropped to my knees without warning, and i could feel sana tense under my hands, her breath coming out in quick, shallow bursts as i knelt in front of her. our eyes locked, and i swear i’d never seen a prettier sight. my fingers skimmed up her thighs, spreading them wider, my lips brushing just below her waistband. i didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. her own hands gripped the counter beside her, knuckles turning white, like she was holding herself steady for what was about to come next.

i dipped my head, my mouth meeting her with no more waiting, no teasing. sana’s body jolted, and the sound she made—it sent a jolt straight through me. she tried to stifle it, biting her lip, but there was no hiding how much she wanted this.

her hips shifted forward instinctively, and i didn’t let up, pulling her closer, needing to feel every little reaction i could get. i let her legs drape over my shoulders, my hands gripping her thighs tighter as i took my time—and God, does she taste like a fucking fruit.

i felt her hands in my hair, tugging at the strands, and that’s when i pulled back just enough to speak, my voice low and rough, “had me thinkin’ you were innocent…” i couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips as i dove right back in, the taste of her driving me crazy. “nah… you a freak.”

sana’s breath hitched again as her head fell back against the mirror, eyes squeezing shut. “paige,” she whined out. her expression moved into a laugh as she tugged at my hair a little harder, like she’d just comprehended what i’d said. “shut the fuck up,” she managed, her voice shaky, breaking in the middle like she was losing control.

i chuckled against her, looking up, the vibration of it making her squirm. i didn’t stop. not until she was too far gone to care about anyone else but us.

“yes, ma’am.”

november, 2022

paige bueckers is eye-fucking me from across the room, and i’m not sure how to feel about it.

we’re sitting in the film room, going over footage from yesterday’s home-opener, a complete blowout. 98 to 39. my stats were setting the bar incredibly high for the season, and as much as i hate to admit it, the sex definitely helped. paige helped.

but why did it have to be her?

coach was talking, his voice fading in and out as he pointed at the screen, circling plays and highlighting our best moments, but my mind was elsewhere. i glanced over in her direction, prepared to make some kind of face that would shoo her off, but she was already looking away, pretending to be interested in geno’s lecture. like she hadn’t just been burning holes through me five seconds ago.

instead, i caught nika’s eyes, and she had this mischievous look on her face, one eyebrow quirked as she stuck her tongue out playfully. it was enough to pull a giggle out of me, and i quickly covered my mouth, trying to keep it discreet. nika grinned wider, clearly pleased with herself.

eventually, geno wrapped everything up, and everyone started to head out. either to class, or any other relevant plans, but there was a 99% chance we’d be back in each other’s apartments at some point tonight. perks of getting housing in the exact same complex of your team.

i grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder as i waltzed toward the door. i was ready to get out of there and clear my head, but just as i reached the hallway, i heard footsteps behind me. paige. of course.

“headed somewhere, ruso?” paige’s voice came from just behind me.

i glanced over my shoulder, smirking. “library back on campus to study. what’s your excuse?”

she shrugged, stepping closer, and for a second, i thought she might’ve followed me just for this. “i gotta hit PT a few doors down.”

i glanced down at her knee, but i didn’t say anything. paige didn’t talk about her injury often, but she didn’t have to. her comeback was the only thing that mattered. getting healthy and back on the right track. “right, gotta keep those muscles working,” i replied, playing into that teasing tone she held.

“seeeee, exactly,” she shot back, grinning from ear to ear. “especially since you been keeping me busy. can’t have a repeat of—“

i throw a hand over her mouth, glancing back to make sure no one was behind us. everyone must’ve taken the shorter exit; i was practically walking her to physical therapy at this point.

paige, never one to let an opportunity slide, licked my hand, making me jump back with a startled laugh as she giggled. “paige!” i yelped, immediately wiping her slobber on her own arm, in which she gradually accepted.

a literal kid.

“my bad, go ahead and finish,” she urged.

“we need some rules.” i looked to her, and she didn’t look any bit of phased.

that was before she raised her eyebrows, interest clearly piqued. “that’s necessary?”

i began to chew on my bottom lip. “i mean, i’ve never done this before. and you seem… i don’t know. experienced.”

she laughed, eyes widening in shock, but i swear it was fake. “you tryna call me a slut?”

there was a brief silence, and i met her gaze, unable to suppress a smirk. “if the shoe fits.”

her mouth fell agape, although i wasn’t sure why it was such a surprise. wasn’t she the one practically engaged in hookup culture? “sorry? i don’t think i heard you correctly.”

“if the kobe’s fit, bueckers!” i yelled into her ear.

she pulled back, laughter spilling out of her as she shook her head, clearly caught off guard. “wowww, okay. i see how it is.”

i rolled my eyes at her playfully, struggling to get back on topic. “look, all i’m saying is that if we’re gonna keep doing this,” i continued, “i need to know what’s off-limits.”

“like what?” she pressed.

i thought for a moment, letting her words settle in for a beat. “like, are we keeping it casual? or should i be expecting breakfast in bed after a night of… whatever this is?”

paige chuckled, her eyes flickering to the ground for a moment before she looked back at me. “i mean, i’d love to make you breakfast, but that’s only if you’re willing to stay the night.”

what did that even mean? that’s not fucking casual at all. was she just joking? “maybe i am.” my response was cautious, although my heart was racing a bit at the thought. at least my brain was still quick-witted. “but let’s make sure we’re on the same page first.”

she nodded, a serious expression overtaking her normally playful for just a second. we stopped in front of the PT room, and i glanced inside before giving her a look, indicating that i should probably go.

paige licked her lips, tilting her head up in my direction as she slung the physical therapy door open. “aight, fair enough. i’ll call you later.”

[liveontelevision]

Okay, this started as a rant about Lucifer lore and turned into an argumentative essay on why Lucifer is a bottom. My b.

18+ Smut ahead, lots of angst

•••

Here's the thing about Lucifer. He was an awesome dreamer, fell in love with Lillith, and was banished to Hell. Literally forced to see what the gift of good will can do at its worse. Unless he's made some personal contact with a sinner to get like updates about what the gift of good will did right, he had to be stuck in a depression for centuries, at least until Charlie was born. And while that would've definitely given him a new passion, he'll never feel confident in dreaming again.

With how much he dislikes sinners and what they represent, i wonder if there had to be some strain on their relationship when it came to Lillith taking control? They never really talk about if they had a fallout or if she just disappeared, but i dont think they really got divorced either.

When Lucifer looks at that family picture and winces, does he feel bad about not contacting charlie? About something he did to make lillith leave? Or maybe he feels bad about being upset at lillith for leaving in the first place? There's so much to umpack there i live for the lore.

Love Interests:

But when that comes to potential love interests in the future, Lucifer hasnt had to court anyone before like ever. Not in the circumstances that they live in a big city like Hell. So when he finally ends up catching feelings, he has no idea. People around the hotel literally need to pick up on context clues for him and have an intervention to tell him he's in love again.

Even if he hasnt seen lillith in 7 years, their relationship had to be a drastic change compared to new love. I think that his love interest would also pick it up before he does, and you would let him work at his own pace. Fuck, it is so important that he goes through this process at his own pace.

With so much strain on his past relationships with loved ones, he fully gaslights himself into thinking he doesnt deserves and isnt allowed to feel affection anymore. I hate making characters i love suffer. But i feel like in his state of mind he'd go through depressive episodes and panic attacks, maybe some night terrors. Theyed be about his past and his subconscious would essentially tell him he has feelings again, and he shouldn't act them in case he scares you away and abandons you, like heaven. Or drives you away like lillith. Or purposely blocks you out like charlie. Mans is struggling i swear. He needs some comfort.

After finally coming to terms, hes a nervous wreck about every decision he makes. He'll constantly stare in the mirror in the mornings, making sure he looks his best, would plan mental scripts before even having a conversation with you, and would become a bumbling mess just trying to make jokes out of the situation, some base level actions, like how we saw in the show. He'll manage to finally ask you out, but all he really knows how to do is profess an undying love (i feel like his confession to lillith was hella dramatic) so it was a little awkward, but still cute. And of course you said yes.

So let's say its been 5+ years since he moved into the hotel, met you and finally managed to confess his feelings. When it comes to the actual relationship? You give him reassurance and support him through his mental episodes, and laugh at his jokes and praise him for everything he does. He has such intense imposture syndrome though, that even other demons have to reassure that theres no way you dont love him with all your being. Because it is literally obvious to everyone but him.

He's pretty good at doing the romantic fluff stuff in public, he loves to make a big show out of treating you like royalty and even trying to embarrass you when you become close enough. He's always more charasmatic in public, it seems easier than doing that alone.

Not in a negative way, but Lucifer is so never to be alone with you. You take the lead a bit more in those scenarios, suggesting ideas like movies or just coming up with small talk yourself. He needs someone who'll be patient with him. Being alive for millions of years AND being left or shamed by all your loved ones during that time is literally the definition of Truama.

Of course he's been bottling all that shit up, he has no one to confide with. There's no one who's been alive and witnessed it all the way he has. So bless you for loving and caring for him even without understanding all hes been through.

You'll have some rough patches, where this emotional side locks him away from you and everyone else. It might be a few days before you see him. He'll lock himself in his office, pumping out ducks by the dozen just to keep himself from sleeping, because he's scared he'll have night terrors if he feels asleep. He's in a constant loop;

"what if i fucked up?"

"what if i try to talk about it and then they realize how bad i fucked up?"

"what if that's enough of a reason for them to leave me?"

"what if i scare them away?"

"what if that fucks this up?"

"what if i fucked up.. Again..?"

After he leaves his office, youre excited to see him out and about, but you cant make a big deal out of it. You have to speak to him calmly, make sure he's physically okay before talking to him about his thought process. It might take awhile, but he'll eventually trust you enough to open up. And of course it'll never be bad enough for you to leave him, he's just struggling.

Physical Contact:

It takes him an even longer time to become physical with you. He hasnt been intimate for over a decade at this point, but as soon as he becomes comfortable with little affections like hand holding, cuddling, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing? Hoo boy, he melts after your first kiss. It couldve been even a small peck and he would still become a nervous wreck just trying to ask for more.

He'll ask for physical touch more than provide it at first. You'll give him a quick kiss and he'll look up at you super eager just like, "another?" He'll grow into tastful pda's, linking arms, quick hugs and smooches, holding hands all that.

He becomes putty in your hand when you're alone though. You'll nudge him to lean against your shoulder or even lay his head in your lap while youre lounging or watching movies. He becomes so relaxed in your presence, that you'll want to suddenly peck him just to see his suddenly flustered reaction.

You'd give him massages that he would always be hesistant over. He was always a little nervous that he wasnt giving enough to you, but you were quick to assure him that wasnt the case. You'd straddle his hips while giving him a slowww massage. It starts with light touches, tracing your fingers over his shoulder blades and spine. You'd trace your fingers over his chest when you would cuddle too, depending on the position. Or stroke his back sweetly. It was enough of a distraction to keep his mind occupied, away from any spiraling thoughts he might be having.

He purrs. Convince me that he doesnt purr. (You cant)

Being secluded for so long probably means that he doesnt fly as much as he used to. It was probably a passion of his, and he was especially delighted to share it with lillith and charlie.

So during those 7 years he barely flew, he also didnt take care of his wings. I feel like theyre something to be summoned, so they arent constantly tucked into his back. You'd basically scold him sometimes to just let you clean his wings.

You'd do it in like a spring-type bathhouse that Lucifer would have in his castle somehow. It was one of the first intimate moments he's experienced in years, so he was generally going insane. Feeling your hands and a little comb rake through the feathers on his giant wings? You'd have to tap his shoulder sometimes to keep him from falling asleep to the relaxation alone. After the first time, the water you used was pretty dirty and he had a lot of loose feathets that were combed out. Damn, he needed this.

Intimacy:

After awhile, you sit down and would have a discussion about being intimate in bed. Lucifer would be absolutely nervous about overstepping by asking this, (even though you've been together for about a year at this point). He would use his mental scripts and basically practice what he wanted to say.

It would mainly be him saying he wants to do this because he loves you and youve done so much for him that he wants to give back to you in this way. It would consist of him saying its okay if you dont want to, or if you ever want to stop to just say so. But of course you want to, how could you not?

It would start slow, he actually tries taking the lead in this specific situation. He would kiss you first, his lips trembling at the thought that this is actually happening. Feeling his nerves, you'd cup his face and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs lightly. That will help him ease up enough to start letting the passion take over more.

He'd become more confident in slipping his tongue into your mouth and placing his hands on your hips to pull you closer to him. Lucifer would get lost in the moment, pulling you to straddle his lap as he kissed and licked and bit his way across both your shoulders and down to the softeness of your breast. After leaning back to look at the damage his eyes would become increasingly wide, looking up at you with a flustered expression. Seeing you losing it as much as he was, gave him enough courage to keep up at it.

He would almost hesistantly take a hold of your breasts and would massage them softly, running his thumbs across your nipples and becoming absolutely delighted at the reaction you gave. The adrenaline from the pleasure would make you start grinding against his lap, which would make lucifer's hands on your hips pull away for a moment and make his breath stutter. Lucifer would look you up and down as if he didnt know what to do next, studying your body with darting eyes. You'd press a small kiss on his forehead before guiding his hands back onto your hips with yours, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

"Are you okay, Luci?" He would gulp before nodding his head and turning ridiculously red across his face, maybe from the idea of what was to come, maybe just from your voice alone. You'd keep your hands ontop of his at your hips as you'd keep moving, letting out breathy moans. He would be holding his breath without realizing, an absolute nervous wreck just from the view.

He would already be hard just from the previous make out session, so this would cause him to lean his back against the bed, his strength giving out. You'd keep up at it, feeling his hips jolt up to meet yours at times.

He was a sweaty, twitching mess in front of you and you hated to admit how much that excited you.

His scripted plan was immediately forgotten, but he was quick to remember that he wanted to please you.

He'd snap out of his state of intense pleasure, to carefully switch positions, him looking over you with your back against the bed.

You both discuss it, of course, attempting to set boundaries before hand. Even just the tender discussion would get him riled up. So he'd lean foward and kiss you again, showing off his forked tongue before peppering kisses down your entire body, until he was close enough to let his hot breath heat up your folds.

You'd feel his nervous breath on you before delving in. He would be hesistant of course, but would be quick to get used to your entrance after running his tongue across your entirety multiple times. Lucifer loves providing pleasure this way, so his brain immediately knew what to do once the nerves past. He was quick to take a tight hold onto your thighs to keep you in place as he entered you with his demonic lengthy tongue. He would look up at you as he sort of aimlessly dug around at first, waiting for a reaction. Once he'd see you dip your head back with a muffled moan, he would close his eyes to focus all his attention to that one spot. He'd reach his thumb around to circle and massage your clit that he would find far too quickly. You'd arch your back and try to get more friction against his tongue, but it's easy to forget that he is quite literally the strongest being in Hell. You weren't going anywhere.

He'd love feeling your hands in his hair and would absolutely lose it feeling you pull hard when he'd hit just the right spot. As soon as he set a steady thythm and was hearing your voice become more unhinged, he'd speed up to an extent that you didn't realize was possible after going for so long. You discussed cumming before and he made it very clear that he was okay with you finishing on his face. Fuck, he wanted it. You still warned him, moaning out his name to get his attention, "I-I'm almost there- K-Keep doing that.. like that..! Luci-" you'd almost direct him though the whole process, but were quick to become a moaning mess unable to communicate with words. You'd reach your limit and he would let you buck up into his face this time, loosening his grip on your thighs. He'd pull away after licking you clean, sending overstimulated pleasure across your entire body, with a line of your juices following his tongue as he lifted his head. He would pant with his tongue still sticking out of his mouth, and even through hazy eyes you loved seeing his demonic tongue and thinking about how it just drove you to climax.

Things would switch up again, and you'd sit him against the back of the bedframe. you'd have another quick discussion before seating yourself slowly on his length, which had been throbbing for any contact since the night started. The first few times, he'd do his best not to cum immediately. He hadn't been touched like this in a while, after all. You'd only begin to move once you made sure he was okay since his struggle was written all over his face.

The moment you began to keep a steady space, he would jut his hips upwards, becoming needy to feel this sensation he hadn't felt in over a decade. The first time didn't last long. It was sweet, and he would constantly moan out your name and babble on about how much he loves you. The entire time, you'd be praising him through every move until he was going too fast for you to get a sentence out.

He'd cum inside of you, another previously discussed topic. You essentially had to beg to convince him it was okay. You'd collapse onto his chest, a position he didnt see often. While the two of you always cuddled, you were so focused on making sure he was comfortable, Lucifer realized you didnt often get the chance to just relax on top of him. So after realizing that? Aftercare was amazing.

He'd let you sit with him inside you for a while, before pulling you off and immediately cleaning you up. Some nights, when he felt especially dominant, he would lap up his own cum from your incredibly sensitive cunt. He would swallow some of it, but was mainly pushing anything that dripped out back into your entrance.

After cleaning you up, he would wiggle his way back underneath you and pull you onto his chest, enjoying taking care of you the way you took care of him.

After the first night, lucifer would be much more confident. He'd have that healthy glow, but would be more assertive during meetings, more communicative and wouldnt shut others out as often. It really helped him realize how much you gave to him, and he was determined to give all that and more back to you.

[thehouseofurmotha]

In all honesty, I'm such a fan of the bakugo x aizawas daughter!reader series (if i can all it that)

I'm in NEED of new oneshots basically anything will do

AHH PLEASE TYSM @kitthefanfickat FOR REQUESTING THIS I LITERALLY LOVE ANY EXCUSE TO WRITE DADZAWA <33

Pt. 3 to loud blonde <3 (as for all of them could be read on its own as a standalone one shot.)

Pt. 1, pt. 2

Summery: y/n starts feeling really left out of her father's life, and her loud blonde boyfriend is there to comfort her and fix the pieces of her that have broken.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mommy issues!! Mentions of mental abuse snd neglect,

You loved your father, and you knew how much he did for you. But sometimes you couldn't help but feel left out of his life. Recently he's started spending the little free time he has training a kid in your general studies class.

Hitoshi Shinsou, you've talked to him on more than one occasion. You and him have a very similar personality, and in reality he kind of reminds you of your father. Which is why it makes sense that he took a liking to the kid. But fuck did you feel like shit.

You knew that your father loved you too, and that there wasn't anything that he wouldn't do for you. But you still, couldn't help but feel left out of his world. The world of being a hero, you suppose.

You've never once regretted your decision to not become a hero like your father. Maybe it was from your mother drilling it into your head as a child that hero's are bad, and you should never want to be one.

For the first 5 years of your life you were raised by a mother who simply did not care about you. Maybe she saw to much of your father in you to ever truly love you. She had left your father before you were born, as a child you fantasized about him coming to save you and take you away from your mother. But even as a child, you knew the chances were unlikely as the chances he knew you existed were very slim. Your mother would tell you that, all the time. She would constantly remind you that no one loved you, and nobody was coming to save you.

For a long time you couldn't come to terms with the truth that your mom was an awful person. You wanted to hate her but she was still your mother. No matter how much she neglected and manipulated you.

The day of your 5th birthday, your mother finally snapped. She hadn't been taking care of you in months, you were practically skin and bones. Your hair was in one huge mat.

As a child, most kids were excited for their birthdays. Not you, your birthday just reminded your mother more of 'mistake' she made by not getting rid of you. You woke up and made your way to the kitchen in hopes she would have made herself breakfast and you could steal whatever scraps ended up left.

You were lucky that morning that she did. Or so you thought, she had went to the couch to watch her show while she ate. And you saw this as the perfect opportunity to eat a little bit of the food she had left over, even if you couldn't have much it was better than nothing.

You quietly dragged a chair over to the stove and picked at the extra eggs and bacon lying in a pan. You thought your mother had been preoccupied, but she must have forgotten something, you didn't really know.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" She screamed some how louder than she ever has at you before. You immediately burst into tears stuttering an apology over and over again.

"I was just so hungry mommy I'm so sorry- I- I won't do it again-" She looked at you with burning hatred as you begged for her forgiveness. You didn't understand what you had done to deserve this.

"Get the fuck out of my house." You sob even harder at this. You were just a kid where were you supposed to go.

"Mommy please-" you beg, you don't want to get kicked out. You just wanted her to love you.

"Get out. Now." She was unnaturally calm while saying this. You kept sobbing and sobbing as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the door handle. Suddenly you were no longer in that house, and surrounded by a cold uncaring world.

You don't know how, but you managed to make it to a police station. You knew that these people would help you. You just wanted to be saved, like the people your father helped. Why couldn't he help you.

You push the large doors open, not without struggle though. You see a pretty woman sitting at a desk in front of you with a kind smile.

"Hi honey, where are your parents?" Her comment makes the tears that had previously stopped come back even harder. No body had ever been that gentle with you.

"M-mommy kicked me out-" You sob and hiccup throughout the sentence and the lady gives you a look of pity. She quickly gets up from her desk and wraps you in her warm arms.

"You're safe now sweetie, you're safe." You shove your face into her chest and sob harder. Never having felt such loving touch. "Can you come with me honey? We just need to ask you some questions so we can figure out how to help you."

You look up at her and give her a small nod. You're brought back into an interrogation room, but the kind lady never leaves your side. She sits in the chair next to you asking if you need anything. She offers you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"don't know what that is.." It's hard for you to admit, you really didn't know what anything was. It was a miracle that you had learned how to talk at all.

"It's a very yummy food, and it'll help you feel better." She adds the second part after heading your stomach grumble. You not giving her approval, "I'll be right back honey." She says this as she walks out of the door leaving you alone.

You pull your knees to your chest. You were so scared, you just wanted your mom to love you.

You wake up from the nightmare, if you could even really call it that. It was nothing but the truth, the harsh reality you had to face that your mom had abandoned you.

You hazily make you way out of bed, tears gently falling from your eyes. You make your way straight to your father's bedroom, it's a Saturday so he should still be in bed asleep. But he's not and an overwhelming panic sets onto you. You go and search the rest of the house hoping that he just woke up early today.

As you're searching you find a letter on the kitchen counter, and it reads

'Hi hun,

Left to do some training with Shinsou, I'm not sure when I'll be home. But if you want me to pick up food or anything on the way home just text me. Have a great day.

Love, Dad'

The letter only manages to make you sob harder. You just wanted your father, and he was just with another kid. With this thought, you started to spiral. With the thoughts that your father's going to leave you, just like your mother did. Maybe you should have become a hero, maybe he'd like you better. You start thinking of all the things you could've done wrong, all the things that could make him hate you like she did.

Eventually you start to recognize that you are not in the state of mind to be alone. But texting your father asking him to come home now seems like the scariest thing ever. So you settle on the next best person.

As soon as you had just simply said please he knew something was wrong. You never invited him over without telling your father. You respected your father to much for that.

As to his promise, Katsuki arrived 15 minutes later. He pounded on the door until you opened it; you weren't sure if it was because he was worried, or this was something he would always do if you didn't wait outside for him. But today you simply didn't have the energy.

You walk over the door quietly unlocking it before sitting back on the couch. Your boyfriend obviously hears you unlock it cause he's bursting through the door a second later. He scans the room looking for you and as his eyes land on your disheveled body, with tears still running down your face.

He gently wraps you in his arms, holding you as close as he can. "Talk to me doll what's goin on?" He just wants to know how to help you. The softness in his voice seems to only make you sob harder.

"He- he's gonna leave me- he's gonna leave- I'm not good enough he's gonna leave-" This only left Katsuki with more questions. Who was 'he'? It couldn't be your father would it? What would he have done to make you feel like this, Katsuki thinks he may kill your father if it was him.

"Who baby? I need to know so I can help you, I just want to help you." He gently rubs your back, the soothing motion help you to start sobbing a little less. But in the moment Katsuki thinks that any progress is good progress.

"My- my dad- he's gonna- he's gonna leave me just like she did-" Katsuki's suspicions are confirmed with this. It was about your father, and he could only assume the she was your mother. He knew a little bit of what had happened. He knew that you didn't have contact with your mother, but that was pretty much the extent to what you had told him. He really didn't know what to do, so he texted the one person who might.

"You good sensei? You look even more miserable than normal." Shinsou and Aizawa have always had a sort of playful banter while sparring. And even though they're on a water break they normally keep it going. And when Shinsou noticed that Aizawa was staring at his phone with his brows creased, of course he was gonna do some teasing.

"Sorry to call it quits early, but I have to go kid. Something's going on with my daughter." Aizawa is really panicking internally, wondering what he could have done to upset you. He doesn't know, he thought you had been fine. But obviously not.

"Oh you're all good, I didn't know you had a daughter Sensei." Shinsou was a little taken aback by that comment. Never having heard about this mysterious girl.

"Yeah.. have a good day Shinsou I'll see you Monday morning before classes."

"Alright see you then sensei, thank you." And with that Aizawa gets in his car has fast as he can. Thoughts racing, he just wants to know what's wrong with his daughter. What he did, so he can fix it.

He doesn't want you to feel like he's going to leave you like your mother did. He never would. He definitely speeds a bit on the way back to your guys apartment but honestly, he doesn't care. He just wants to hold his daughter and tell her that everything will be okay.

He quickly arrives at your guys apartment, due to the fact that it's not very far U.A. He rushes up the stairs to get to get to your apartment.

As he opens the door, he's greeted with the sight of you sobbing into Bakugou's chest. The boy looks up at him with a puzzled look on his face. This tells Shouta that he's made no progress figuring out what sparked this.

Quickly he makes his way to you and picks you up out of Bakugou's lap. The boy goes to resist it but he just sends a glare at him and the boy takes the hint. Allowing him to carefully cradle you to his chest, the way he would when you were upset as a child. This action causes you to only sob harder.

"I'm not leaving hun, I'm not going anywhere's. I'm not leaving." He just keeps repeating that he's not leaving you. And this manages to get you calm enough to form semi coherent sentences.

"Msorry- I was just being dramatic- I'm sorry-" you mumble this out with your face shoved into his chest.

"Honey, if you're this upset it's not dramatic I promise. I need you to tell me what's wrong hun, please. Let me fix this." With a sigh he holds you closer, he just wants to make you feel better.

"I just- I had a dream- more a nightmare I guess- of um- the day my mom you know- kicked me out- and then you weren't here.. and you've been spending so much time out of the house. And I know your training Shinsou and he's a nice kid and would make a good hero- but I don't know- I feel like he's taken up the little bit of time that we would spend together- it's stupid but part of me thinks you like him better because he wants to become a hero and I don't.." Once it starts to come out you just couldn't stop. You had told him everything you had been feeling. He looks at you with a look that makes it impossible to tell how he feels.

"I'm so sorry, kid. I should've thought about you would feel about this, but I need you to know nothing you could do could ever make me love you less, or love someone else more. I need you to know that I'm not going to leave you, not ever. I will not abandon you like she did. I promise I'll make extra effort to hang out with you, I'll call out of patrol tonight. Me and you, as well as Bakugou if you would like, can all hang out and have a movie night. Or whatever you want to do, anything to make you feel better. I'm so sorry." You start to cry again, but this time more of relief than anything. You had finally gotten the reassurance from him that you needed.

"Also hun, I don't care about you not becoming a hero, all I want is for you to be happy and do something you love. And I know analysis is that thing."

"Thank you dad.. but you um- you don't have to call out tonight I'll be fine."

"Nah it's alright, I'll just get Hizashi to cover and he'll do it no complaints." This causes you to giggle, you truly do love your father and Hizashi's relationship.

"I love you dad." You say this with a smile on your face looking up at him.

"I love you too kid."

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you're the one who breaks it. "I think that I want to try and contact her.." You whisper this not knowing how your father will feel about this.

"If you think that's what you need to do, then I'll support you 100%." The reassurance that he's not upset at the idea is comforting.

You notice that at some point your boyfriend had left. You figured that he just went outside, to the benches at the front of the building. Because you know that Katsuki would never leave you with out saying bye.

You spend the rest of the night sitting between your two favorite people feeling more content than you had in a while. And even though there was anxiety about trying to talk to your mother, you know that they would get you through it. And that was all the comfort you needed.

Okay so I definitely meant to finish my Shinsou x reader one shot before I finished this, but I got a little carried away when I started- soooo! Anyways I hope you enjoy! Happy reading <3

[scoops-aboy86]

Realize You’re Living (Secret Admirer pt 5)

Steddie Week 2024, July 5: Reunion / exes to lovers or getting back together / Wasted Years by Iron Maiden

Sorry. Not for the delay in posting, I just think I'm gonna get yelled at for reasons.

wc: 2815 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

There isn’t time to send Steve another letter before Friday. 

There isn’t time, not through the mail, and there’s no way Eddie is risking physically putting something in the Harrington’s mailbox himself. That would mean running the risk of someone finding out, and that still ignites an old fear in the most primal part of his brain that screams at him to run. No matter who it is. 

On the other hand, standing Steve up for their phone date is not an option. The very idea makes his insides freeze over. They’ve both had to reassure each other that they want to continue this epistolary romance, Jesus H. Christ—there’s been too much hot and cold already to pull something like that. 

Eddie rolls over on his bed to lay face down and screams into his pillow. It's like they’re in a relationship, except Steve doesn’t even know who he is. It's absurd. An absolute clown town of his own making.

Okay. Okay, no, he can do this. (Can he?) All he has to do is relax and stay calm until tomorrow night. He’ll call at 10:30 on the dot and play Steve some Iron Maiden or something, maybe a little Dio, a smidge of Black Sabbath, throw in a dash of Judas Priest… Basically play the guy a mix tape, live. 

He whips his head up and all but dives for his side table, looking for the tin where he keeps his weed. It’ll help him chill out enough to come up with a song list. And he needs all the chill he can get. He’s lost his mom to cancer, his dad to addiction and prison, and his childhood home with them—he refuses to lose Steve if he has even half a chance of actually having Steve. Because if this whole secret admirer thing is going where he hardly dares to hope it is, this could be the most important mix tape of his entire goddamn life. 

Steve spends all of Friday so on edge that Robin starts threatening to drop banana peels in the circuit he keeps pacing behind the counter. 

“What is with you today, dingus?”

He stops, tapping his foot restlessly and removing his hat so he can rake a hand through his hair. “Nothing, nothing, I… have an important call tonight, is all. I think.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Oooh, is it a pretty girl?” she teases.

“Maybe,” he mutters with a halfhearted shrug. He really still doesn’t know, and it doesn’t seem likely he’ll find out tonight. “I’m not even sure they’ll call. It’s… kind of a blind date sort of thing.”

“A blind phone date?” Robin looks like she doesn’t know what to do with that, which. Fair. “Is that a thing?”

Steve shrugs again. He goes back to pacing. “It might be. I’ll find out tonight I guess.”

She gives him a minute before butting in again, spraying more Windex on the display case to get the lunch rush’s grubby child fingerprints off the cool glass. “...Is this because of the board?”

Again, Steve stops. “What?”

“The You Rule / You Suck board. Have I accidentally degraded your confidence in yourself so much that you’ve turned to blind dates as an alternative to trying to seduce any and every girl who walks in here?” 

Her tone is flippant, but because they’ve been on better terms recently—especially since Steve started offering her rides (and let her take control of the tape deck after that time she threatened to throw all of his Wham! tapes out the window)—he decides to take it as a genuine question. 

“No. Well—No, it’s more the hat than that. It messes up my best feature, you know?” He runs a hand through his hair again, fluffing it up more, then slumps against the back counter next to the milkshake blenders with a sigh. “It’s kind of a pen pal thing. We’ve been talking for a while but we haven’t met, but… I think it might be going somewhere good.”

Robin stops her bored polishing of the display case, only half of the afternoon rush’s smudges and fingerprints wiped away, to laugh with a slight shake of her head. “Oh wow, King Steve is a romantic. Who knew?”

“Not me before junior year, that’s for sure,” he scoffs honestly. 

She studies him thoughtfully for a moment. “Makes sense. Kind of lines up with something I heard the other day, when—”

But then they’re interrupted by a couple strolling in for some ice cream. Robin rushes through cleaning the rest of the glass so as to get out of their way, and Steve scoops and rings them up while she moves on to wiping down tables, conversation forgotten. 

Eddie’s finished his playlist and his plan is to call early. Not too early, just… a minute, five minutes tops. His uncle leaves for work before 10, so he has plenty of time and he’s buzzing with nervous energy. 

Way too much nervous energy to carry into the Big Call tonight. 

By the time Wayne is out the door, Eddie’s already started on rolling a joint and rereading Steve’s letters from start to current. If he’d been smart he would’ve written out copies of his own for a more complete read, that in depth analysis his English teachers never shut up about… but alas. 

Usually his memory is pretty good, especially when it comes to his own work. He also hadn’t expected this to go on as long as it had; not really. But now he can hardly imagine what it would be like to know Steve only from a distance anymore and that… colors things. Fuck only knows what he’s remembering wrong because of a simple difference in perspective. 

Because Steve has let him in, Eddie acknowledges as he lines the weed up on the paper. He’s written things about his home life, about his old friends, and definitely about his injuries over the past couple years (though oddly enough never much about what actually caused them) that Eddie would bet good money that no one else knows, if only because Steve doesn’t seem to have anyone else to tell. Maybe those kids he babysits (begrudgingly but genuinely dotes on, Eddie’s seen it from a distance). But really, how much can you realistically talk to a thirteen year old? Eddie remembers being thirteen; he hadn’t listened to anyone for shit. It was a miracle Wayne hadn’t just released him into the woods like a wild animal. 

And all Eddie’s been doing is pulling Steve close, while steadfastly keeping him out. God. 

He licks the joint to seal it, lights up, and keeps rereading. 

Steve is standing by the phone in his kitchen watching the second hand on the clock. How it sneaks around the clock face, slow but steady, until it laps the 12 line and it’s 10:31. 

He slumps back against the kitchen island with a groan. That had been an absolutely excruciating minute, and he’s staring down the barrel of another fifty-nine more until he can reasonably give up hope. Because anything under an hour is just running late, right? Something could have come up, something unavoidable like… family coming home unexpectedly, making a private conversation impossible. 

… Okay, maybe that was a stress dream he’d had last night about his parents, but something like it could happen to anyone.

10:32. The second hand barely makes it past fifteen this time before the silence is split by the shriek of ringing in the otherwise silent house. Steve multitasks, jumping out of his skin and lunging to answer the phone at the same time.

“HelloHarringtonresidence, thisisStevehowcanIhelpyou?” he rushes out. 

There’s no response except breathing on the other end of the line, which would be creepy if it weren’t exactly what he was hoping for. 

(Eddie is pressing a hand over his mouth, keeping in an equal parts amused and disbelieving laugh at how Steve had answered the phone, all flustered and cute and overly formal in an automatic sort of way that suggests an ingrained habit. From what he knows about Steve’s parents, he’s not terribly surprised, but it’s still such a delightfully dorky greeting.

And it seems like Steve really was waiting by the phone for his call, which makes Eddie want to fucking dance.)

“Is that you?” After a second, a light bulb goes off in Steve’s head and he adds, “Oh. Uh, tap once for yes, twice for no?”

It takes a few seconds, but then he hears a single tap against the plastic of the other receiver. 

(Smart, Eddie would tell him if he could. If he dared. He sucks hard on the last of his joint before letting the smoke billow from his nose like a dragon and putting it out in the ashtray by his bed. Maybe he mashes it in a little harder than necessary, blaming it for being late even though that’s really just another one of his bad habits at this point.)

Relief breaks over Steve like a wave. “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re the, um, my secret admirer?”

Tap. 

(Yeah sweetheart, it’s me.)

Steve does a little bounce on the balls of his feet and pumps his fist, too giddy to feel stupid about it with no one watching. “Holy shit. I mean, t-thanks for calling. Sorry, my parents make me answer the phone like that.” 

Nothing. 

(Eddie is smiling. Beaming, really. I figured, he imagines saying. At first it makes his heart feel full just thinking about it, but then has to stop that line of thought before his anxiety conjures up all the ways Steve Harrington, until recently Hawkins High’s resident ladies man, might react to the surprise of being on a phone date with a guy. Jesus, how is he high and still so nervous?)

“Right, you can’t answer. I mean, you can, if you want, but you don’t have to. This is, this is to see how I like your music.” Steve rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Did you want to play something for me now, or…”

Tap. 

(All the tapes are on standby, spread out in chaotic order around the second-hand player he got last year after Wayne’s old one crapped out on him. Eddie cranks up the volume as high as it’ll go; he’s used to it, the neighbors are resigned to it, and Steve won’t be able to hear it well enough to count through the phone otherwise.)

The first song starts, and Steve twists the phone cord between his fingers as he stands in his kitchen and listens. There’s a heavy beat and a noticeable bass line, even over the phone, nothing like the pop rock he usually listens to. But…

“… I definitely didn’t hate it,” he says once the last notes fade out. 

(Eddie is vibrating as he hits pause and ejects the tape, elated, a few of his worries already soothed. Steve doesn’t hate metal. That doesn’t necessarily mean Steve will like him, but it’s got to make the odds at least a little better, right? He wants to say fuck yeah or I love you or, fucking… shriek wordlessly or something, but presses his hand over his cotton-dry mouth instead, hard enough that his gums ache a little.)

“It kind of reminded me of AC/DC? Like Back in Black, or Hells Bells.”

(They’re not one of Eddie’s favorites, didn’t even make the playlist. But they’re harder rock than he expected Steve to be familiar with, and suddenly he has a wild urge to know what the guy thinks of You Shook Me All Night Long.)

“One time, the radio played Big Balls in the car and my mom literally clutched her pearls and said, ‘I don’t think he’s talking about ballroom dancing, Richard!’” 

(Eddie grins as the funny little falsetto Steve put on for the impression fades into a rich laugh, like he’s so tickled by the memory that he can’t help it. There was probably some appalled, classic white-anglo-saxon-protestant-sucking-on-a-lemon expression on her face that he’s picturing, while Eddie can only imagine. It’s okay, Eddie is too busy wanting to pour Steve’s laugh into a bathtub and soak in it.)

Tap. 

“Yeah, really not,” Steve agrees, his cheeks almost aching from smiling so wide. He feels lighter than air just knowing he’s on the phone with the person who’s been writing to him the past couple months, knowing he’s proving that they’re genuinely at least a little bit compatible. “So, what’s the next song?”

It goes on like that. Steve doesn’t know the artists or albums or track titles, but figures that Secret Admirer will fill him in with the next letter. There are a couple of songs that are more shouting than singing for his taste—“I like songs I can sing along to once I know the words, you know? Really belt out in the car after a long day, or something,” he explains, and gets a yes tap in response. 

(Eddie has to improvise. Instead of another WASP song, he reaches for an Iron Maiden tape he’d put aside as a half-assed backup and scours the track list, trying to decide… Ah, that one. He pops it in and turns the volume down for a second so he can check that he’s fast forwarding to the right spot on the tape.

This one’s for you, sweetheart, he thinks, lighting a second joint—not for nerves this time, but just for fun. He leans back and lets the smoke fill his lungs, fill his mind, send him floating off to whatever time of that big house Steve is curled up in so he can spiritually throw an arm around the other guy’s shoulders.)

Steve likes the instrumentals in the intro of this one. He doesn’t really track the words at first once they start—usually doesn’t, on a first listen-through, with so much new to take in. But he starts catching on to the shape of them by the first of what turns out to be the chorus. 

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years

Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind Can't ease this pain so easily When you can't find the words to say, hard to make it through another day And it makes me wanna cry, throw my hands up to the sky

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years, hey!

He listens, slowly untangling himself from the long phone cord and taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. When the song finally fades out and he hears the far-off click of the tape being stopped and taken out, he asks hopefully, “It’s about seizing the day, right?”

Maybe they’re building up to telling him who they are, or at least giving him a little more. 

(Eddie freezes, not expecting Steve—who had told him he didn’t get things on the first try—to venture any insights. Especially on a song that hadn’t been on his list, a last minute change-up that he’d picked with the transformation from King Steve to just normal guy Steve in mind and how Steve seems so hung up on apologizing for the douchebag he used to be. 

Or at least, used to be on the outside. Every day, Eddie gets a little less sure that persona went much further than skin-deep.

A tiny sound curls out of Eddie’s throat, a barely audible, inquisitive hum. Something that says please, keep going. He knows Steve has heard it because of the quick intake of breath over the line.)

Steve clutches the handset so hard that his knuckles go white. It’s the first sound, the first crumb that Secret Admirer has given him that’s really them, not a tap on plastic or other people’s music. Too quiet to make out any distinguishing features, but it’s something. 

It feels like everything. 

“You could, you know,” Steve says softly. “You could… make a stand? If you told me who you are, or just anything more about you, I… I really like you. I know for sure that I want to know you. Maybe that makes me a romantic sap, but it’s true. What if we find out we could have our golden years right now?”

(Eddie is freaking out. The mellow of his high isn’t helping anymore, all the floaty syrupy hopefulness of it stripped away. Oh fuck oh balls oh shit, shit, shit!

He’s hyperventilating, knows Steve can probably hear it, and he’s nothing but a goddamn coward in the end.

He can't do this.)

There’s a single clunk, and then all Steve hears is dial tone.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs

[allsadnshit]

How did you meet your husband? And what was your story like?

I met my husband on tumblr when we were both like 17-18 but actually started dating when we were 24

We were mutuals for many years, just casually friends from different cities with no plans of ever hanging out but would chat sometimes, support each other's art, and recommend music/books

I had mutual friends with him irl because lots of people from my arts high school in Pittsburgh ended up in Philly at Tyler which shared a campus with his school which was funny but we still were really only internet friends till 2020 when during the first lockdown I had been through a break up earlier that year and had spent a lot of time alone and sort of thinking more deeply and uninterrupted than I ever had about romance and love because I was unhappy where I was at. I was also really sick at the time and had been getting more sick for the last 4-5 years without finding the reason why so it was just generally a very life changing moment of needing to soul search on a lot of levels to cope with what was happening.

My long time best friend ended up asking me "If you could date anyone, not just who you know or who's around, who would you ask out?" and I had never thought about it like that because I was very much a creature of comfort and usually dated co workers or friends within my social circles out of availability - but I answered right away with my husband which felt funny because I had not ever actually considered him a "crush" up until that point but I realized he was in my eyes, the coolest person I knew.

So I dm'd him on instagram (which he very rarely used) and said something flirty for the first time like "hey nice birkenstocks, maybe we can wear them together on a lavender farm sometime" not knowing if that would be weird since I had never been suggestive towards him before then but to my surprise he reciprocated hard and fast like no hesitation! We realized it had never occurred to either of us to consider something long distance but that we were both very attracted to each other and the timing just lined up well!

We started texting every day for about a month and I also moved into a new short term lease, and within that month of talking he bought his first car so he could come and meet me. He drove in on a friday after work and didn't get to my house till like 1am, but we just had a really intense emotional/spiritual connecting right away and I think both of realized it was serious very fast. I was actually so nervous that I got constipated to the point he had to drive me to the ER on his last night visiting. I told all the nurses I had just met my true love.

After he had to go back to Philly, he drove back up a month later to stay for a whole week, during which we decided he'd come move in with me for the rest of my 6 month lease and then I'd come move to Philly to be with him. I also realized that for all this to happen, I needed to take a risk and find out what was really going on with me medically, so I also got a diagnostic surgery where they found endometriosis. It was a really hard recovery that he was there for me for, and when I was healed up enough and my lease ended he drove us back to Philly. We got married in 2021 about a year later.

He is the treasure of my life <3

[witchpassing]

interview_3aC

I got into piloting during the Third Generation. For the historically illiterate, that’s before the breakpoint, not after. Summer Offensive, Chelsk Offensive, ‘81, ‘82… All that shit.

When you say pilot now, people get a certain mental image. It wasn’t like that, back then; end of the day, a G3 frame is basically just another kind of tank. Hot like hell inside and full analogue control. You had to think five, six, seven seconds ahead sometimes, because that’s how long it’d take you to string together the inputs for what you were doing next.

I was good. I mean, I’m good at my job now, sure, but… you should’ve fuckin’ seen me then.

... Anyway. Long and short of it is, I got unlucky. Everyone does, sooner or later. Coterie railcannon caved in part of my cockpit, crushed my leg to dogmeat, and that was that. A few years later, they’d have amputated, plugged in a spare, and sent me back in, but this was ‘83, the tech wasn’t there yet. We were hearing about it, you know, shit on the grapevine about the brain-machine barrier, weird tests underground out in Lysk, but I don’t think any of us really believed in it.

I wanna say I knew what was coming, but I didn’t. Nobody did.

So. Cockpit breach. Fucked leg. They did a lot of work, got it to where I could walk on a good day, but it was obvious I wasn’t gonna cut it any more. Took my pension, checked out, spent eight years in the worst dyke bars I could find. Don’t really wanna talk about that part. That’s not what you’re here for, anyway.

So I’m a few years down the line, losing my mind somewhere in Sengrade, and I get a call. It’s this guy I used to know, I never really nailed down what he did, Information maybe, and he’s telling me about this program they’re spinning up over in Lysk, and sure that rings some alarm bells but what am I gonna do, say no? I don’t even need to hear the specifics, he’s trying to tell me it’s the next big jump in frame tech, it’s gonna win us the war, whatever, I’m already halfway onto a train.

The job turned out to be the Fifth Generation. Not only was the brain-machine barrier real, but they’d smashed clean through it. I said a G3 is basically a tank, right? So I was expecting an iteration on the form. Sharper, sleeker sure, but at the end of the day just a prettier-looking tank.

Well, I was dead fuckin’ wrong. Seeing something that size move that way, it’s… I don’t think I can put it into words. Go find a poet or something. Ask them what they think about Gen 5.

… Didn’t come for free, of course. The neural throughput on a machine that size will cook an unprepared brain like a fuckin’ egg. You need to be dosed to the gills on a whole cocktail of ten-syllable shit to take it for more than a few minutes, and the drugs make you weird. Horny, mostly - I’m sure you’ve heard about that - but you’re also looking at impaired impulse control, difficulty with long-term thinking, emotional disregulation, mania… Plus, there’s something in the cocktail or the link or both that is bastard habit-forming. You see them counting the hours between sorties. They adjust to the hyperstimulation, get calibrated to it, and then everything else is just too god-damn quiet.

Think maybe it’s carcinogenic, actually, but you didn’t hear that from me.

So, yeah. Weird. Command doesn’t want weird operating superweaponry. Weird doesn’t make sound tactical decisions. Which means all the shit that makes somebody a functioning soldier - the long-term decision making, the impulse control, the ability to give a fuck about the rules of engagement - it had to be outsourced.

The term they used at first was “special consultant”. Then “special consulting officer”, once we hit field testing. It wasn’t “handler” until later.

The first crop of us - I’m just gonna say handlers, I know how you’re gonna wanna spin this, I get it - were all ex-pilots. G3, mostly; Gen 4 didn’t leave a lot of material to work with. I guess the idea was we were the closest you could get to a G5 candidate’s frame of reference, but it was pretty clear within the first few months that that was bullshit. Some of us took to it, some of us washed out. A lot couldn’t take the wetwork, which I guess I can sympathise with.

Me, I handled it fine. Better than I should’ve, maybe. Being a tanker didn’t do shit for me, but my dad, he was a dog trainer, and… Yeah, well, you get the idea.

… No, no. The other kind of wetwork. You know what I mean.

…

The leg? Ha. Yeah, they offered me a prosthetic. ‘Course they did. But, call me a hypocrite, whatever you want - by that point I was six months in and I knew with total fuckin’ certainty I didn’t want the link. I spend enough of my time helping the military put their shit into peoples’ bodies, you know? I don’t want it walking home with me.

… No, I don’t understand why they keep signing up. Early days, sure, nobody knew what it did to you back then, but there’s been leaks, people’ve talked - hell, I’m talking right now. You can find our burnouts in any dive in the country, or what's fuckin' left of them. The candidates now, they know what we do to people here, and they just keep coming, and coming…

Though, you know… I think sometimes about the first time I saw a Gen 5 machine take off, that first day on the program. The way it moved against the blue-black of the sky, like it weighed nothing at all. And I almost get it.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for not telling my friend that her husband is gay and cheating on her for months after I found out?

Okay so I really don't know what the right move would have been in this situation and I feel really bad about it.

So I, 28(f) have two childhood friends who I'll call Rose (28f) and Matt (28m). Rose and Matt started dating in school, married quickly after that and have been together for years. It had been a really fairytale relationship and honestly I was really jealous of their relationship for a long time, before this situation started.

So I was hanging out with a friend who didnt know Matt and Rose, who we'll call Ben (30m). We were chilling together and he got a grindr notification. We like to share like who were talking to, what the plans are etc and he showed me this guy he'd matched with and it was Matt. I freaked out, Ben was like "hey maybe theyve got an open relationship and you don't know" I was skeptical but I had to admit that there was a small possibility that was the case. Ben sent me screenshots of Matt's profile and their texts and I arranged to hang out with Matt by himself the next week.

So when we hung out I confronted him about it with the screenshots and he broke down and told me the truth. He's gay, he's known he was gay since he was 13ish, and he's terrified of his, very conservative, family finding out. I asked him if Rose knew, and he confirmed that she didn't and he's been telling her that he's visiting family/other friends and instead meeting guys from Grindr to sleep with.

I was trying to balance my support for him, because I really felt for him and his inner turmoil being closeted for so long - I'm bi myself and it took me a long time to feel comfortable sharing my sexuality with people - and my anger for him cheating on Rose. I was also concerned because he was just meeting randos and sleeping with them with nobody knowing where he was, like bad shit could happen and nobody would know. We talked for over 5 hours going over all aspects of the situation, and by the end of it he said that he was going to come clean to Rose and tell her the truth and theyd figure out what to do from there.

Matt never told her. I waited for two months before I pressed the issue because, well that's a huge thing to talk about and I didn't want to pester him any more that it needed to be pressed. But after two months, he hadn't said anything and I was like "hey, she needs to know about this. You have no idea if youve given her any stis from the number of people you've slept with. She needs to know." He said he was going to tell her when he got home. He didn't.

In fact, Matt never told her willingly. Two weeks after I confronted him for the second time, a different friend came across him on Grindr in an unconnected situation, and he sent the screenshot straight to Rose without talking to Matt first. She immediately left him. She got an sti test and he had given her gonorrhoea.

They're getting a divorce. His family is incredibly homophobic, so Rose and Matt have agreed that they will gender swap who he cheated with when talking to his family (I.e., admitting he was using dating apps to cheat and the number of times he'd cheated but claiming that all of that was with woman rather than men). Since then they haven't spoken and Rose has been staying with her family.

I've told her all of my side of what happened and while she understands why I spoke to Matt first, she says she's upset that I didn't tell her at the same time, as gonorrhoea usually takes about two weeks to develop in the system and she (direct quote) "might have walked away with a shred of dignity if I wasn't peeing fire while i come to terms with being a useful idiot."

I feel dreadful. Obviously the blame really lies with Matt for giving her gonorrhoea in the first place but I can't help but feel responsible for not telling her when it was clear he wasn't going to do it by himself.

Aita?

[tee-dohrnii]

Hey!! I’d love to see Thalia and Gale being domestic, if you don’t mind!! Your art is GORGEOUS.

I’d also love to learn more about Thalia’s backstory or any Gale headcannons you had!

I hope this counts as being domestic I just can't resist a good nap time moment :') and I also wanted to just do doodles but I got carried away and started coloring 😭 coloring has never been my strong suit so I hope this is fine

And uaaa thank you for thinking my art is gorgeous!!! I'm honestly really glad to see people are enjoying my silly doodles here thank you!!

--- vv Thalia backstory blurb vv ---

In terms of backstory, honestly I haven't been able to flesh it out much yet! I also don't know much about dnd lore (I really wish I did) so anything I say here may not be consistent with lore :'D

However, what I have so far is Thalia used to be Thalia Adkrana, daughter of a noble family from a powerful bloodline of storm sorcerers. Despite being the 4th born child out of 5 children, since birth she's shown to be more blessed with magic than anyone in her family, powerful storms raging around her constantly when she was younger and destroying anything around her, causing trouble for her family. As she grew older, she may have logically understood how it is to keep her lightning under control, but whenever she gets very emotional her magic tends to lash out in response to her reactions. Growing up privileged and powerful, she also developed a bit of a superiority complex and an awful temper when things don't go her way, so not really a good combo when her magic gets unstable when she's upset.

Because of this, her family preferred keeping her within their property as much as possible to avoid dealing with her and to avoid troubling others, especially when one wrong outburst from her could ruin their family reputation. Growing up isolated from world didn't really help her grow and mature properly either, and her temper tantrums got worse and worse the longer she was kept in there and the more her family seemed to just give up on her. The only one she could really confide in and find comfort in was her younger brother.

Everything really changed when one day she decided to speak up against her family and demanding they let her leave the house, let her come with them to one of their social gatherings. Hells, she's been trapped in their property for so many years at this point she wants to engage with people, even peasants at this point because she'd rather deal with them than look at the same suffocating decor for even another second. Voices and tempers rising, she grew more and more frustrated as her parents kept shutting down every argument she could come up with, and the more the storms around her grew the more she proved that her parents were right for keeping her in. Angry at them, angry at herself, thunder roared and the lightning sparks dancing around her gathered into huge bolts of lightning, surging out of her in rage as if her magic itself was screaming out for her if her words and her voice couldn't reach her family. She knew they had every good reason to not let her out, knowing her own lack of control over her own emotions - but maybe if they trusted her just once, guided her, saw her as someone in desperate need of help instead of a stain on their family name, maybe things could've been different.

But that's not how we got to this point. A loud thud of a body falling flat on the ground snapped her out of her state and right beside them lay one of their servants, dead at her feet, and as if the panic she was feeling couldn't get any worse, just close by she saw her younger brother lying on the floor, badly hurt and crying out from pain. Immediately her parents, older siblings, and anyone who heard them nearby rushed to her little brother and the poor servant, doing their best to take care of the situation and Thalia stood there silent, watching her world fall apart in front of her eyes.

The order to banish her from their home came soon after, no longer Thalia Adkrana but simply Thalia, removing her status and all the benefits that name gave. Since she so desperately wanted to go out and see the world, now the world is all she'll have and no home to return to.

Kinda really awful timing when shortly after she started her new unwanted life as an adventurer, she got picked up by a nautiloid and had a tadpole squirming its way behind her eye.

And also shortly after meeting poor souls who shared the same unfortunate tadpole situation she was facing, it's no wonder Thalia fell so hard for a certain wizard who showed her in one night how beautiful, intimate, and warm magic could be as it enveloped her whole being like a gentle embrace - that her power and her emotions were something she could learn to channel and not be afraid of, a perspective her family failed to teach her for years. And even if at times she still found herself electrocuting the waters they stood on in her anger or excitement and hurting them, or maybe her temper would get the best of her again and she would unconsciously lash out at them before she could even realize she was yelling, after every argument or petty insults thrown at each other, they would still watch out for one another and care for each other and soon after they'd be sitting around a campfire laughing and enjoying each other's company.

It's no wonder once she's found a family she truly belonged in and felt safe in that her true nature finally bloomed after being suppressed for so long - a kind, lonely girl who loved being around people and helping them in all the ways she wished she could've helped her younger self ages ago, never letting anyone get left behind and given up on like she was back then.

Although being out of touch from reality for many years did create a lot of very awkward moments when interacting with people during the beginning of their journey, she did learn very fast how best to compose herself in public - best she could when the ones teaching her are also a couple of social outcasts but hey it's fine.

---

Whew! That's a lot actually. Idek if any of that makes sense I'm not going to proofread all that :') I also don't really have any Gale headcanons I do really enjoy reading other people's headcanons about him though!

I hope this answer is sufficient ^_^

[writingquestionsanswered]

Do you have any tips on making characters more plot relevant? I have characters that are important to the story because of who they are and their interactions, but when it comes to their page time or POV I struggle to make their side and individual story meaningful. I’ve been able to add more events that they deal with and add importance to their character, but I feel as if it’s too secondary. I won’t call them afterthoughts but they kind of are. I struggle with having character arcs and development that are a part of the main plot but don’t deal with it directly often.

Making Characters More Plot Relevant

If you have characters who are important to the story in terms of their relationships with other characters, and who you feel need to be a bigger part of the story, here are some things you can do to give them a stronger role in the plot:

1 - Give Them Agency in Main Plot Events - First and foremost, you want to make sure these characters have at least some bearing on what happens in the main plot. Each character should make decisions or take actions that directly affect the main plot, at least once in a while. They can even make decisions or take actions that initiate major plot events even if they're not involved in them.

2 - Create Subplots That Feed into the Main Plot - Can you think of any "side quests" (so-to-speak) that need to be carried out in order for the story to progress that these characters could do? For example, maybe your protagonist has to pull off a big heist in order to solve the story's external conflict, so they are gathering their team. Perhaps some of these characters could go on a "side quest" to locate one of the potential recruits.

3 - Create Main Plot Conflict for Them - Each of these characters should have their own internal conflicts and their own motivation for working toward the story's goal. Can you think of some way to create conflict for them between what they want and what actually needs to happen? For example, maybe they were trained in the dark arts and the reason they are with this heist group is because they left that life behind and no longer want to practice dark arts... but maybe their role in the heist will require them to use dark magic. How will they overcome this conflict?

4 - Utilize their Unique Skills or Knowledge - Consider giving some of these characters unique skills or knowledge that can be used in the fight toward resolving the conflict. So, in the case of the example heist story, maybe one of these characters is really good at creating forgeries. Or maybe another character has incredible stealth skills. By making their knowledge or skills invaluable to the "mission," you can give them more weight and make them invaluable to the plot.

5 - Consider Combining Characters or Reassigning Tasks - Quite often, if you're really honest with yourself, you can probably take some of these important-but-not-plot-relevant characters and combine them. In other words, if you have one character who is important because they're the protagonist's love interest, and you have another character who's important because they're a main character's sibling, is there some way you can combine this into one character? So that this character is both the protagonist's love interest and the main character's sibling? Another option would be to look at important tasks completed by other characters. Can any be reassigned to a character who needs something more important to do? Or could they play an important role in assisting that character with the task?

By utilizing some of the tips above, you should be able to give your characters more relevance in the plot.

Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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