#no hate i just had no idea. blissfully unaware

[supersoftly]

You never realize who fandoms are majorly horny for until you accidentally stumble on a very dedicated blog that excessively and explicitly describe what they want to do to them alongside a thread of 1000+ fans agreeing with them.

[hopefullhearts]

Sickeningly Sweet [Scott Miller x Reader - Twisters]

summary: You are Tyler Owens' childhood best friend and member of his storm chasing crew. A storm outbreak means you and the gang cross paths with Storm Par on more than one occasion, and your sweet southern charm drives Scott crazy (in more than one way).

content warnings: somewhat heated kissing, no use of y/n, light name-calling/teasing, not proofread/bad writing (I have not written a fanfic in forever), bad taste in candy, & i think that is all!

word count: 3.5k

a/n: I have not written or posted on tumblr in SO long but I saw Twisters for the glenn powell craze and left with a scott/david corenswet obsession and these thoughts must come out of my head.

Shoutout to @hederasgarden and @sailor-aviator for leading the charge for the Scott girlies. All of their writings and drabbles inspired me to write this one, so check them out!

If people like this I might do a smutty part 2! I don't mind writing smut I just feel like it's not very good hahaha but let me know what you think!

--

You heavily resented the idea that guys and girls could not just be friends, because you'd be damned if Tyler Owens wasn't the best friend you ever had.

You met on the playground in Kindergarten. A boy pushed you off a swing, Tyler defended your honor, and the rest was history.

Tyler's overprotective streak made you view him like the brother you never had, and that's how your relationship remained. He was family, and that was that.

Tyler had always been interested in tornadoes, more specifically, how to track and predict them. You, on the other hand, hated science, including weather, but you loved the thrill of the chase.

In college, you studied marketing while Tyler studied meteorology. So, when Tyler had the idea to start streaming his storm chases, you were right there with him to help grow his brand.

Tyler knows he would be stupid not to credit you with all his success. You set up his streaming account, you edited all the clips and drone footage to post to his social media after the fact, and you even gave him the idea for the "Tornado Wrangler" nickname.

Now that everything was off the ground, you mostly put together streaming highlights and designed the merch, but you were right there in the backseat for every single chase, soaking up all the thrills.

This particular storm outbreak was expected to be a big one, so the whole crew strapped in for a week of bad weather, cheap motel rooms, and of course, a few run-ins with other chasers, including the guys from Storm Par.

"Storm Par's here." You said, gesturing to the fleet of white vans parked at the gas station you had just pulled up to.

"Of course they are." Tyler sighed. "There's probably going to be a lot of damage done by these storms for them to swoop in on. Just ignore them."

"No, we should be polite." You chastised him. "I'm gonna go say hi. Will you get me a cherry coke please?"

Tyler fought back an eye-roll, but nodded with a smile as you both got out of the car. "Of course."

Like everyone else in the crew, the Storm Par guys got on your last nerve. They were all a bunch of Ivy League grads who thought a more expensive degree made them better than everyone else.

However, being raised by your Mama, the epitome of Southern grace and charm, you always put a smile on your face and treated them with kindness. You even occasionally brought them food or coffee if you ran into them in the aftermath of a storm.

And even though you were blissfully unaware of the fact, this drove Scott absolutely mad.

"Hi Scott, Javi." You said cheerfully to the two boys in charge.

Scott replied with a grunt, but Javi was quick to greet you with genuine enthusiasm. "Hey! How are you?"

"I'm doing well." You nodded, smoothing your hands over your athleisure skirt. "Excited for a good chase today. How about you guys?"

"Us too." Javi nodded. "We're hoping to finally get some solid data collection today."

"Ah." You nodded, unsure what to say. You hated the idea of what they were collecting data for, but Javi seemed like a nice enough guy, and Tyler ripped on them enough for the both of you.

"Something on your mind there, princess?" Scott finally spoke, glancing away from his tablet to look down on you (literally and figuratively).

You rolled your eyes. While you would normally love to be called a princess, it always sounded like an insult coming from Scott, his voice always laced with a touch of venom.

"No, nothing at all." You smiled. "Just wondering if we'll see you guys in the aftermath if there's any damage done?"

"Why? Are you looking to increase your t-shirt sales?"

You bit your tongue, doing your best to hold your composure and not let him get to you.

"Nope, just trying to figure out if we need to make some extra to-go boxes for you guys." You decided to focus your gaze on Javi instead, finding him less intimidating.

Javi opened his mouth to speak, but Scott beat him to the punch. "I think we can find food on our own, thanks."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Okay, well, the offer always stands if you change your mind."

Javi smiled and nodded. "As much as I want to see a good storm today, let's hope we don't have a ton of damage clean up."

You smiled. You knew he had a heart.

"That's something we both can agree on." You grinned. "Stay safe out there you guys!"

With that, you turned and walked away. Scott watched you go, your hair and skirt blowing side to side in the wind.

"Stay safe out there you guys." Scott mocked you under his breath.

"Yo, you don't always have to be a jerk to her, you know."

Scott gave him an unamused look. "She comes out here with her little boyfriend, selling his t-shirts and shit, and then skips over here like we're the best of friends with her thick southern accent. It's all fake."

"For one, I don't think Owens is her boyfriend." Javi corrected. "And two, I think she's just a genuinely nice person. She always says hello, even when everyone else in their crew ignores us like the plague."

"Whatever." Scott mumbled.

As you reached the truck, you took the ice-cold Coca-Cola bottle from Tyler's outstretched hand.

"Thank you!" You said excitedly, twisting the cap off to take a sip.

"How are dumb and dumber?" Tyler teased.

"Javi was nice." You informed him. "Scott was... there."

"Ah, yes." Tyler laughed. "Word on the street is he's a man of many words."

"Right." You agreed sarcastically. "But, when he does speak to me, he always calls me princess, and it drives me crazy."

"In what way?" Tyler said, failing to hold back a smirk.

It took you a moment to realize what he was implying, but when you did, you were mortified,

"Tyler Owens!" You gasped, your face flushing red with embarrassment.

""I'm just teasing you! You make it too easy." He laughed loudly. "In my defense, he looks like exactly like every boyfriend you've ever had."

Your face got even warmer, because he was exactly right. You had a weakness for tall, muscular, dark-haired men, and you especially loved a man who was a challenge.

"That is...irrelevant." You said, covering your face in your hands out of pure embarrassment.

Tyler held his hands up in surrender, as you rushed to talk about anything but Scott. "Let's just figure out what storm we're going after, you jerk." You insulted Tyler, but the smile on your face was ear to ear.

Scott watched the interaction from afar, and his chest twisted at your sickeningly sweet smile. Even if you weren't Owens' girlfriend, your closeness was evident. He ignored the burning feeling that was rising within him, not wanting to question why it was there in the first place.

Tornadoes were scary, but trying to understand how he felt about you? Terrifying.

"Alright, boss man, which storm are we chasing?" Javi pulled him out of his thoughts with a hand clapped on his shoulder, and he finally pulled his gaze away from your smile, the sound of your laughter fading into the background.

--

The storm was bad.

It hit a small town of about 3,000 people, and you estimated based on the initial damage scene that it was an EF3 at best, maybe even an EF4.

You were currently handing out anything that might be helpful to families who had been impacted by the tornado - blankets, water, heat lamps. pre-made sandwiches and cookies. You tried to offer them any comfort you could with a smile and hug, but you understood the devastation they felt all too well.

In the early days, you would try to help with the damage cleanup, but Tyler insisted that you stay back at the camper and talk to the families.

At first, you were insulted, and you thought that Tyler was insinuating you weren't strong enough to move heavy tree limbs or pieces of drywall. You finally asked him about it one day, and he laughed.

"Absolutely not!" He insisted. "You just have this energy around you that's calming, and these families need that. Your empathy and kindness are doing much more for them right now than cleaning up a bunch of rubble would."

You had never thought of it like that, but once Tyler pointed it out, it became your mission to be the solace that these families in crisis needed.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Mrs. Smith?" You asked, rubbing the arms of a middle-aged woman who you had been speaking to for a few minutes now.

"No, thank you." She sniffled. "I really appreciate you guys being here. God bless you."

You smiled, giving her another hug. "Please let us know if there's anything more we can do to help."

She nodded, walking away to join her family, who were staring at the remains of their house.

You pushed back tears, feeling silly that this never got any easier for you, but also focused on being the anchor that these folks needed.

Scott saw you before you saw him. He watched you from afar as you did your work. He watched you force a smile and hold these people as they cried. He also watched you look up to blink back the tears before taking a deep breath and moving on to the next.

And damn if it didn't drive him nuts.

This job is easier when he doesn't get involved with the people impacted. It's easier to pretend not to care. But watching you pour your heart out to strangers, just because it's the right thing to do? It made his heart jump, and that scared him.

Ignoring the people involved and ignoring his feelings for you had become increasingly more difficult with every chase.

"Scott!" You called, approaching him with a styrofoam container in your hand.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself as you literally bounced over to him.

How the hell does someone look this good after taking on a tornado?

"Here." You offered him the container. "It's just a ham and cheese sandwich and a cookie."

"I'm really not hungry." He responded.

"Seriously?" You asked, not buying it. "We've all been chasing since 10 AM and it's nearly 8, you have to be hungry."

Scott shrugged, trying to hold back the things he really wanted to say.

"Fine." You sighed. "We're right over here if you change your mind."

"Yeah, I know princess. It's hard to miss you being the town's savior over there."

Scott watched you visibly retract and he internally screamed as his heart dropped. You probably hated him, but it didn't matter anyway. You were far too sweet for him, so putting a wedge between the two of you seemed to be the smartest way to outrun his feelings.

"Wow." You spoke, your voice much smaller and shakier than usual. "I knew you were sarcastic and maybe even a little mean, but I never thought you were actually cruel. So, thanks, for enlightening me."

And with that, you turned and strutted off. This time, you failed to fight back the tears as you returned to the camper.

And to your horror, Tyler was there, taking a break from clean up for some water.

When Tyler sees you cry, his overprotective streak comes out instantly, and right now you didn't want to be protected, because you were so embarrassed that he finally got to you. You were even more embarrassed that you thought that just maybe, he might be a good person under that scowl and hard facade.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" Tyler rushed up to meet you.

You nodded, trying to stop sniffling. "I'm fine."

Tyler looked behind you to see Scott watching you closely, with a look that almost mimicked longing, and he quickly put two and two together.

"Let me handle this." He insisted.

You shook your head in protest. "No, Tyler, please, he thinks I'm a waste of time anyways, it's not worth it."

"Trust me, he doesn't," Tyler reassured you. "Let me handle this, and if it goes badly, I'll edit all the stream highlights for the next two weeks, okay?"

"Deal." You nodded.

You truly did trust him more than anyone in your life, so you opted to go inside the camper and dry up your tears while he went to speak to Scott. You would let Tyler handle it, but no way were you going to stand there and watch, looking like a puppy who just got kicked.

"Coming to defend your girlfriend's honor?" Scott said sarcastically, trying to mask any emotion he was feeling.

"Dude, seriously." Tyler glared at him. "If you want her attention being a complete and total asshole is not the way you get it."

"Is that what you think? That I want her 'attention'?" He said, framing the last word in air quotes.

"Yeah, I do." Tyler nodded. "I saw the look you gave her as she walked away."

"Okay, so what?" Scott shrugged. "You might be surprised to know I am human and I didn't mean to make her cry."

"Sure." Tyler nodded. "So, what about all the other times I've caught you staring at her, hm?"

Scott stayed silent, stunned speechless.

"Ah, you thought you were better at hiding it, didn't you?" Tyler said with a smug grin. "Every time we end up at the same gas station, restaurant, bar, or motel, your eyes follow her nearly the whole time. And don't even get me started on the holes you burn into my head when I'm talking to her."

"Alright, fine." Scott snapped angrily. "Here to rub it in my face then?"

Tyler sighed in frustration. "No."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to give you a piece of advice."

"Why?" Scott scoffed. "It's no secret that we aren't friends."

"I know her better than anyone else, do you want my help or not?" Tyler asked, his patience nearing its limit.

Scott didn't protest this time.

"Look, no matter what I think about you, you're pretty much exactly her type," Tyler said, much to Scott's surprise. "So if you want her, apologize and tell her how you feel."

"She's not going to feel the same, and she deserves much better than me." Scott retorted. "C'mon Owens, you know what we do. When she comes floating into these broken towns like a heaven-sent angel, I'm collecting data for the devil."

"That doesn't have to be a permanent problem." Tyler pointed out. "Plus, she likes a challenge, and she's definitely brave enough to think she can fix you."

That cracked a smile from both of them, followed by a moment of silence.

"218." Tyler said.

"What?"

"That's the room she's staying in tonight." Tyler said, starting to walk away. "Apologize."

Scott nodded, beginning to formulate a plan on how the hell he was going to get you to forgive him.

--

You were snug under your blanket in the motel room watching reruns of Modern Family when the knock came.

You sighed and got up, not bothering to check the peephole as you assumed it was just Tyler coming to talk about the day's events.

So when you opened the door to see Scott standing there, you couldn't be more surprised.

"What are you doing here?" You said quietly, nearly breathless at the sight of him.

It wasn't the first time you had seen him outside of that stupid Storm Par white jumpsuit, but it was the first time you had seen him in gray sweatpants and a tight black long-sleeve shirt that clung to his muscles in a way that you could only describe as sinful.

He towered over you, leaning against the frame of the doorway, and you nearly shuddered when you looked up to meet the intense gaze in his eyes.

"I brought you something. As an apology for being an ass earlier today."

"Oh, and what did you bring for all the other times?" You spat back, no longer in the mood to play nice with him.

"I deserve that." He sighed. "Can I come in?"

"Depends." You responded, and he raised an eyebrow. "What did you bring me?"

He handed you a plastic bag, and you opened it to find a Cherry Coke, Sour Patch Kids, and a Honey Bun.

All of your favorites.

"How did you know what I like?" You asked, curious to know if Tyler was behind this.

"You always get some combination of the three at any local gas station." He shrugged.

He remembered because the first time he saw you buy all three he physically rolled his eyes, because, of course, you would buy snacks just as sickeningly sweet as you.

"I didn't know you paid this much attention to me." You said softly.

"Yeah." Scott inhaled a sharp breath. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can I please come in?"

You opened the door, inviting him in with the gesture. The door shut behind you, and there was a brief moment of silence between you two.

"I'm sorry, for being a jerk today and every other time I'm around you." Scott started, visibly nervous as he ran a hand through his hair. "I wish I had a better explanation for why I've been such an ass."

"Yeah, so let's hear it." You said, hands on your hips. "Because I have been nothing but nice to you, even though I don't like who you work for and what they stand for."

"I know." He nodded. "At first, I thought you were being fake or sarcastic because it was unfathomable to me that you would be nice to us when you have absolutely no reason to be."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"But once I learned more about you, and I realized you were being genuinely nice," Scott took a deep breath, building up all his courage. "It knocked me off my feet."

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused at what he was getting at

"I spend most of my time pretending that I don't care about the people that are devastated by all of this, because it's easier that way. But watching you bear your heart and soul to all of these people, just because you can?" Scott scoffed. "It makes it hard to pretend like I don't care about them, or more importantly, about you."

"You care about me?"

"I do." He nodded. "And I was a jerk to you because I thought it would be easier to make you hate me than it would be to admit that I have feelings for you, when you're far too good for me."

His admission stunned you. You can feel your heart thumping out of your chest as you look into his eyes, which look painstakingly vulnerable.

"I completely understand if you don't feel the same way, but I couldn't outrun these feelings anymore, and I wanted to at least let you know that I'm sorry."

The room fell silent as you processed everything he just told you. Scott was panicking inside, waiting for what felt like years for you to say something, anything.

"Do you know why I was always nice to you?" You asked him. "Because I was hoping that somewhere in there you had a good side. I needed to know that you had a heart before I could admit to myself that I felt drawn to you."

"Do you still? Feel drawn to me?"

You nodded. Stepping closer to him so that you were nearly face to face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please." You nodded desperately, your words barely above a whisper.

His lips were on yours in a flash, and the pure intensity of the kiss nearly knocked you off your feet. It was heated and rough, but somehow gentle and passionate at the same time. His thumb grazed your cheek as he pulled you closer, and every spot his fingers touched made your skin feel like it was on fire. You couldn't get enough of him.

Once he knew you were comfortable, he took the liberty of exploring you more. His tongue slipped into your mouth gently and his teeth caught your bottom lip, causing a small whimper to come from the back of your throat.

Scott groaned at the sound, letting his mind imagine (not for the first time) all of the sounds he could pull from you.

When the two of you finally pulled away for air, he kept you close, his hands ghosting under your chin around your neck, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You taste just as sweet as I thought you would," Scott said with a smirk.

"Shut up and kiss me again."

[korncest]

Saw you were taking requests and decided to drop on in! I’ve been really trying to push the “Leon loves goths” agenda and just wanted to see if you had an ideas for cute rookie!Leon having the hots for a goth. You can make it as sfw or nsfw as you want. I just can’t stop thinking about smothering him in black lipstick kiss marks ahh.

ROOKIE! LEON KENNEDY & GOTH CHICK

∿ warn . nsfw under cut, riding, tit sucking, leon calls you mommy!

this is a drabble! so the quality isn’t very good :(( vaguely proof read too so WAAA BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY! 3k words :33 when i tell you i CHEERED when i saw this in my inbox, i’m being so fr! i’m a proud goth so seeing the goth chick agenda being spread.. UGH! the dream don’t play. goth girl x leon is so real.. WRITING RULES | PINNED

when leon first saw you, he couldn’t look away. he really did try to tear away his gaze from you, but he physically couldn’t help but ogle at your outfit and overall disposition. he’s never seen someone with that sense of style you had outside of media — he vaguely knows what goths are, he’s seen goths displayed in movies and shows, like nancy downs in the craft, or late at night when mtv played the cure.

it was surprising to see you in raccoon city, with clothing that made it seem like you had just stepped out of a funeral and heavy eyeliner that made you resemble the dead.

in a midwestern small town, you don’t often see people with alternative fashion, and seeing you in full gothic attire was like finding a needle in a haystack.

it was almost funny how mundane setting was, leon had just stepped inside the local coffee shop near the police station to grab some coffee before his shift, and here you were, tucked away in the corner of the shop idly reading a book. he would’ve expected to see you at the local hot topic or the morgue, but no, you were just.. reading.

your nose was stuck inside a stephen king novel, carrie, leon thinks — he couldn’t make out the cover words as he stood by the cashier counter.

you were listening to music too, leon saw the cassette resting on the table and the headphones that covered your ears, he wondered what were you listening to. the cure? honestly, that’s the only gothic band he knows, he mainly focuses on listening to grunge, maybe the NSYNC when he needs a change of pace. would you hate that? frown down at him because he likes the occasional boy band? he hopes not.

leon was snapped out of his thoughts when the barista called out to him, “sir, can i help you?” she asked sweetly, tensing in surprise, leon looked back at the woman and cleared his throat. “oh, uh, yeah!” he said quickly.

after giving the barista his order, he paused, glancing back at you. you still read, blissfully unaware of his glances, “hey, does she come here often?” leon whispered as he turned to face the barista, subtly gesturing over to you. the barista raised her eyebrow as she looked over leon’s shoulders to you. “occasionally, but only at night.. some of my workers are convinced she’s like a vampire or something.” the woman laughed, mocking you as she looked back at leon. “what? is she scaring you, officer?” she teased, a small grin coming up to her lips.

leon shook his head, “no, no—“ he paused, “..what did she order?” he asked, realizing how stupid he might look.

the barista’s grin faltered, not expecting that response.

“uh.. vanilla coffee, why?” she questioned.

“can i add that to my order?” leon asked, he wanted to talk to you, and he wanted to seem as natural as possible to not seem like some creep.

the barista paused as she glanced back at you, “oh, yeah! yeah, of course, is that all?” she asked as she took her notepad out again. leon nodded his head, raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck, “uh..yeah, ma’am, thank you.” he said quietly, nodding his head at her once more to show his gratitude before he took out his wallet.

after paying, leon stood by the counter, stealing glances over at you. once the coffees were ready, leon perked up and took them, walking over to your table.

once he reached your table, leon cleared his throat, holding the two steaming cups of coffee as he thought about what to say.

“excuse me?” he called out, hoping to get your attention from the book without having to stand there awkwardly. he had one mission tonight: to get your number.

while you read, you noticed how a figure had come up to you by your peripheral vision. taking your attention away from your reading, you looked up to see who was bothering you. you weren’t expecting to lock eyes with a police officer, it was the last thing you expected. tensing, you were startled, why was there a police man looking down at you? you hadn’t been a disturbance to the shop.

furrowing your eyebrows, you put your book down and took off your headphones before pausing your cassette.

“can i help you?” you asked, distaste clear in your features.

leon just stared, baby blue eyes taking in how pretty your makeup was. it wasn’t full traditional gothic glam, yet the detail in your eyeliner and perfectly coated black lipstick was impressive. leon bit the inside of his cheek before he took in a deep breath and shifted, “uh,” what was he supposed to say? “sorry, i was watching you earlier—“ horrible start, leon! “— and i just think you’re pretty, i like your..makeup and clothes.” he stammered. god, get it together, kennedy!

you paused, the tension in your shoulders releasing, that’s not what you expected at all.

as someone with alternative fashion, you’ve had your fair share of problems with people of authority. the world seems to love assuming that you’re satanic and plan to burn down churches, you’re nothing more than a girl that enjoys indulging in gothic media. from songs, to books, to movies, and make up. it’s just who you are.

nonetheless, having a cop, out of all people, compliment you was endearing.

you eyed the chubby cheeked cop, noticing the two cups of coffee in his hands. he was cute, with those bright blue eyes and preppy look, “aw, thanks.” you began, a small smile curling on your lips.

“what are the two coffees for?” you mused, your eyebrows raising in interest as you looked at the cups.

leon pursed his lips and glanced away, damn, why was he was acting bashful? looking back at you quickly, he let out a breathless chuckle, “i got one for you,” he said, offering you the cup. “thought it could help break the ice.”

you reached out and took the cup off his hands, a small laugh leaving your lips, this guy was charming.

“it’s working,” you mused before putting the carton cup to your lips, you took a small sip, a hum of delight leaving your lips as the warm liquid touched your tongue. vanilla, your favorite. “how did you know i liked vanilla?” you questioned.

leon shifted, “lucky guess?” he said, deciding not to mention he asked the cashier.

squinting, you nodded before putting the cup down. “so.. what do you want officer?” you asked, wanting to know the motive behind his actions, leon moved his hand up to scratch behind his neck. “i was hoping to get your number?” he said, looking at you like a hopeful puppy.

“you want my number?”

“yeah, i wanna get to know you better.”

a small smirk curled on your lips, “alright, officer.” you said, reaching into your bag, you slipped out a pen before reached for the table napkins.

leon watched intently, you swore his eyes seemed to be sparkling.

“i don’t know your name.” you pointed out while scribbling your number down onto the napkin, leon straightened up, “oh, right.. leon kennedy.” he introduced himself, glancing over at his digital watch. leon mentally winced as he realized he was already late to work.

nodding, you finished writing your number before standing up. “alright, leon, i’ll wait for your call.” you hummed, glancing at him with a small smirk before grabbing your bag and coffee. handing him the napkin, you walked away, leaving him staring at you like a lost puppy.

you were so pretty and confident, an air of mystery followed you that made leon want more.

taking the napkin in his hand, he read it.

xxx-xxx-xxxx — call me ;)

just then he realized, he didn’t know your name.

your room was chilly, closer by nine inch nails playing in the background, the song was muffled and quiet, leon’s focus was completely on you.

his lips were pressed against yours, making out with you sloppily, a moan slipped past his lips as the two of you kissed. his hands were wrapped around your body while you straddled his lap. leon’s body was hot, you were taking the lead with this and he didn’t mind — your body pressed against his while your arms were wrapped around his neck.

the kiss was eager and messy, leon’s hands resting against your back as they clutched the back of your lacy black bra, shaky hands trying to work on taking off your bra.

once oxygen began to come between the two of you, you pulled back with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your lips before you pulled back, your hands moving to cup his face as you looked down at him. panting, leon’s eyes locked with yours, your black lipstick smeared, coating his bruised lips.

a small smile curled on your lips before you aided him with unclasping your bra, quickly tossing it to the side, your tits perking in full display. “like ‘em?” you hummed, moving your hands to cup your breasts and push them up, leon’s eyes widened when he noticed two barbells adorning your perky nipples — your nipples were pierced and his cock was aching.

nodding like an idiot, leon shuddered, “y-yeah.” he confirmed, his hands moving to cup your breasts, greedy hands squeezing the mounds of fat, watching as the fat poked through the gaps between his fingers. he groped them like a hormonal teenage boy that’s never had a face full of tits before.

“they’re soft..” leon mumbled, squeezing and fondling.

letting out a huffing laugh, you plucked his greedy hands away from your perky tits and reached down to his pants, his denim jeans pressing tightly against his clothed cock.

shuddering, leon glanced down with wide eyes as your smaller hands palmed his cock.

a soft moan left leon’s lips, his hips twitching upward against your touch, eager for more. you moved your hand up to the zipper of his pants and expertly undid the button and zipper, leon wondered how many people you’ve been with before him. your movements were eager and precise, you had experience — it made leon’s heart tumble as he realized he didn’t match your level, yet a blossoming excitement filled his tummy.

you were going to make him putty in your hands and he was excited.

hooking your fingers on the elastic band of his pants and underwear, you tugged down the fabrics, a shaky gasp leaving leon’s lips as he felt his cock spring up from the restraints.

his throbbing cock stood proudly, the tip sticky with pre-cum while the tip blushed a rosy color.

your hand wrapped around his cock, giving him slow pumps before your gaze locked with his, “you have a pretty dick,” you mumbled, your lips curling up in a playful smile.

leon trembled, his hands moving back to clutch the black comforter of your bed. leon’s cheeks burned red as he looked down at your hand as you stroked his cock. looking up at you, he shuddered, “b-baby,“ he mumbled, “m’need you.” leon babbled.

“yeah, baby?” you mused, slipping your hand away from his cock to nestle yourself properly on his lap.

“you need me?” you repeated.

leon nodded his head, baby blue eyes lidded as he stared at you.

“s’much, please.”

you bit your bottom lip and hummed, moving to grasp his cock again before moving your hand down to your panties and pushing the fabric aside, quickly adjusting yourself above his aching cock, you lowered yourself, his tip kissing your folds.

leon was a pretty sight, he already looked fucked out and you haven’t even put his cock in, there was something about your boyfriend looking so shaky and needy under your touch that made your cunt throb. your pussy was wet and sticky, eager to feel him around your warm walls.

leon’s hands moved to your hips, his large hands squeezing the fat of your hips eagerly.

“c’mon, please, baby— please.” he pleaded, trying to roll his hips up to try and slip his cock inside your pussy.

“aw,” you smirked, tilting your head to the side, “relax, i’ve got you.” you teased, babying him.

in one swift movement, you slipped down onto his cock, a small moan of relief leaving your lips as your cunt sucked leon’s shaft eagerly. you’ve a handful of dicks inside you before, so it wasn’t uncomfortable, but leon’s body trembled.

feeling your warm walls hug his girth snugly made leon see stars.

he threw his head back as a choked moan left his lips, his eyes shutting tightly as he got accustomed to the feeling. holy shit.

panting, he squeezed your hips tightly, leaving crescent shaped marks on your skin as he dug his nails into your flesh.

“f-fuck—“ leon stammered, his eyes fluttering open and meeting your gaze. his breathing was shaky and you haven’t even moved yet — he really didn’t have much experience. leon has fucked before, he slept with his ex-girlfriend every now and then but her libido was low and leon was hormonal, the most solace he got was a hefty amount of lotion and his fist, but this? this was fucking brain altering.

slowly, you began to roll your hips again his, a soft breath leaving your lips as you felt his girthy cock push against your walls, savoring the feeling.

letting your hands rest against leon’s chest, you dug your black manicured nails against his pale skin. leon wasn’t shy about his pleasure, the moans leaving his lips were needy, whiny, and loud.

“like that?” you moaned, glancing down at him as your hips bounced against his, his cock slipping in and out of your pretty pussy, the tip pressing flush against your cervix, giving it kisses with each roll of your hips.

“y-yes,“ he gasped.

each roll of your hips felt like a surge of electricity slipping through leon’s veins, “s’good—“ he slurred, clenching his jaw as he let out a heavy breath. his grip on your hips remained tight and firm, his hips rolling up against your own, desperately trying to match your pace, but it was sloppy.

you let out a soft sigh, moving up to cup his face in your hands, leon’s gaze moved up to your face, big blue puppy dog eyes meeting yours.

smirking, you moved your chest to his face, moving his head against your plush tits.

getting the message, leon eagerly popped one of your pierced nipples into his mouth, his warm tongue pressing and flicking your bud like a baby. he moved his hands up to your waist, holding you close while he suckled eagerly.

shuddering, you let out a moan as leon sucked on your tits.

continuing to bounce on his fat cock, leon was seeing stars. being able to suck on your fat tits while your cunt actively sucked his cock back inside was making his brain fuzzy while a tight coil began to form inside his tummy.

he moaned against your skin, his balls beginning to tighten while his cock throbbed.

“gonna cum, m’gonna cum, mommy—“ he moaned, his cheek pressed against your tit while his saliva coated his skin.

he was too pussydrunk to realize he called you that, but you heard him. your eyebrows raised in surprise, “mommy?” you mused, a small smirk curling in your lips, “gonna cum for mommy?” you teased, moving your hand to the back of his head, your finger tangling between the locks of his hair. you pulled on his hair, pushing him away from your tits to look into his eyes.

leon nodded eagerly, his hips rolling against your hips.

“yes, mommy.” he gasped.

a small laugh left your lips before you let of of his hair and continued to bounce on his cock, “go ahead then, cum for mommy.” you babied, pressing your lips against his forehead, your black lipstick staining his skin.

leon moaned, his eyes rolling back as his lips parted, his lips were glossy with his saliva as his hands moved down to your hips. he gripped your body tightly as he began to maneuver you, guiding your hips against his as he fucked his hips upward.

his movements were sloppy, leon’s brain zeroing in on chasing his high.

the coil in his tummy began to tighten, he was desperate, forcing you up and down his cock like you were nothing but a pocket pussy.

you were surprised by the sudden change of pace, sometimes you forget that leon is much stronger than he seems. gasping, you felt your cunt get fucked with each thrust upward, your tits bouncing at the force while the sound of your pussy squelching around his cock got louder.

whimpering, leon bit his bottom lip harshly, he was right at his peak, and with one final thrust, he pulled you down onto his cock before his cum spurted out.

his tip nuzzled right against your battered cervix, his cum filling your pretty pussy up. thick, sticky, and milky.

leon’s back arched, his toes curling while his body trembled. he gasped and panted, a deep groan leaving his lips. he hasn’t cum that hard in forever, actually— he doesn’t think he’s ever cum that hard, his head was swirling while his body shook with the aftershock of his climax.

you let out a small moan when leon slammed you down onto his cock, your breathing steadying as he filled your cunt up with his cum.

after a few seconds, you felt leon’s cock slowly getting soft inside you, but you didn’t make any attempts to move. “leon?” you mused, feeling leon nuzzle against your chest again.

“yeah?”

you hummed, slowly moving to roll your hips against his again, his body immediately tensing as his sensitive cock got rubbed against. he squeezed you and gasped out a choked breath, wanting to stop you, needing a break to get down from his high, but the words were stuck in his throat.

“you’re getting me a plan b later.” you moaned, smirking as you felt him tremble.

tags 〜 @rigorwhoring @nilpill @cubedkennedy @ottermarbles @dollivication @dilfmaagnet @v0lturiaq @maes-mind555 @antagonize-me-motherfucker @luvrgreyy @arminsbf @sprawberry @xxfritzz @flutterylust @angelstargel @cockiiess @ghosty-the-doll @crystaksack

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ I can fix him ( No really I can ). ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary:Y/n's obsession with Mattheo was evident; she stalked him everywhere, daydreamed about him, and planned ways to get his attention. However, even though he said he hated her, his actions didn’t quite align with those words.

Warnings: stalker!reader , unhinged!reader,obsessed!reader, misunderstood with anger issues reader too! +16 , strong language.

Words: 4.5k

The air hung thick with the smell of spilled Butterbeer and desperation. Wedged into a corner booth of theLeaky Cauldron, I felt like a fish out of water, albeit a very determined fish. My friends, Lily and Anthony, slumped beside me,faces pale and glassy-eyed.

They were the studious type, the kind who'd rather spend a Friday night poring over Herbology textbooks than navigating the dimly lit chaos of this questionable bar. But here they were, martyrs to my grand plan.

My obsession with Mattheo riddle wasn't a recent development. It had blossomed, nurtured by stolen glances across the Great Hall and late-night eavesdropping during our Hogwarts years. Sure, it bordered on stalkerish – I knew his favorite Quidditch teams, the brand of broomstick polish he swore by, even the obscure runes tattooed discreetly on his forearm. But hey,love knew no bounds, right? Well, at least that's what I kept telling myself.

"Y/N, for Merlin's sake," Lily muttered, her voice barely a whisper above the din of drunken wizard gossip, "can't we please go back to Hogwarts? My eyelids are heavier than a dragon's hide after a full moon."

I shook my head firmly, my gaze scanning the sea of faces. "Not yet," I hissed, the anticipation bubbling in my chest. "He should be here any minute."

"He who?" Anthony mumbled, his head lolling against the worn leather of the booth.

"Mattheo, of course!" I exclaimed, my voice a touch louder than necessary. Heads swiveled in our direction, and I quickly ducked my head, mortified.

"Y/N," Anthony sighed, "I can't believe you dragged us all the way out here for a guy who wouldn't recognize you if you levitated naked in front of him."

"He will," I declared, a stubborn glint in my eyes. "Just wait and see." I straightened my robes, trying to project an air of confidence that I definitely wasn't feeling.

As if on cue, the door to the Leaky Cauldron creaked open, and a wave of boisterous laughter flooded the bar. My breath hitched. There he was. Handsome as sin, his black hair tousled, A mischievous grin playing on his lips. He was everything I ever dreamt of and more.

A collective groan escaped my friends' lips as they followed my gaze.

He scanned the room, his gaze sweeping right past my carefully constructed hiding place. "Oh, lord help her," Lily muttered, her voice laced with a mixture of amusement and resignation.

I forced a dazzling smile, willing him to notice me. But alas, he remained oblivious, his attention captured by a group of giggling witches at the bar.

"Show some respect to my man," I declared, though Mattheo was still blissfully unaware of my existence.

"He's not your man, Y/N," Anthony pointed out, stating the very obvious.

"Not yet," I corrected, my smile widening. "But he will be."

They both shook their heads, exasperation etched on their faces. "Y/N," Lily hissed, her ethereal voice taking on a surprisingly stern tone, "do you have any idea what you're talking about?"

I clamped a hand over her mouth "I can fix him," I whispered, my eyes fixed on Mattheo.

My friends erupted in laughter, the sound harsh and grating in the smoky bar. "No, seriously, I can!" I insisted, but they just kept shaking their heads.

"I can't take this anymore," she declared, her voice ringing clear. "Y/N, you're delusional, and Anthony and I are enabling you. This ends now. We're going back to Hogwarts."

"Fine, go," I muttered, my eyes still glued to Matteo. "But I'm staying for a while."

The Leaky Cauldron door creaked shut behind them, leaving me alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces and swirling rumors. I nursed my lukewarm Butterbeer, stealing glances at Mattheo across the room. He was lost in conversation with his friends, his laughter tinged with an edge I couldn't quite place.

A shadow fell across my table, and I looked up to find a burly wizard with a sly grin. "Mind if I join you, pretty lady? My treat."

I shook my head politely, my gaze still fixed on Mattheo. "Thank you, but I'm waiting for someone."

He persisted, leaning in uncomfortably close. But before I could politely dismiss him again, a loud booming voice cut through the bar's cacophony.

It was Mattheo, his handsome features contorted in a scowl. He said something that made his friends erupted in laughter, egging him on. A secret smile played on my lips. There he was, the same arrogant, trouble-seeking Mattheo I'd known at Hogwarts.

As his laughter died down, his eyes scanned the room, landing me. A flicker of surprise, then recognition, crossed his face.

He nudged his friends aside, striding towards my table with a swagger. Just as he reached me, he punched a nearby table sending the unsuspecting wizard sitting next to me flying in the air. He landed with a thud on a group of unsuspecting patrons, who shrieked in surprise.

My heart hammered in my chest. This was it. The darkness in his eyes – I knew that look. At Hogwarts, it always meant trouble. And with wands banned outside of school grounds, trouble often meant a good old-fashioned fistfight.

Mattheo reached me, his eyes narrowed. He glanced at the groaning wizard on the floor, then back at me. "Is he dead?" I asked, smiling.

My gaze darted between Mattheo and the dazed wizard. The words died in my throat as he grabbed my arms, his grip surprisingly tight.

"Who are you?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

My carefully crafted facade threatened to crumble. Maybe my years of stalking – stalking? Observing! - hadn't been as effective as I'd hoped.

"Y/N," I stammered, my voice barely a squeak. "We have… two classes together… last year… remember?" I threw out the first things that came to mind, hoping to jog his memory.

He looked at me with raised eyebrows, a skeptical expression etched on his face. But before he could respond, he grabbed my arm again, his grip firm, and pulled me towards the bar's dimly lit exit.

"Okay, that's… kinda kinky," I blurted out. He stopped in his tracks, his mouth agape, as if unsure how to react to my strange comment.

"So… are you kidnapping me?" I continued, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. "Honestly, I wouldn't mind. I just wanted to know you better!"

He stared at me, incredulous. "A date first, wouldn't you say?" I added, a playful smile on my face.

Instead of replying, he pushed me against a wall, his frustration palpable. "Okay, that's a weird way to propose," I declared, a strange mix of excitement and fear bubbling in my chest. "But yes!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he said, his face inches from mine.

My mind was a whirlwind. He was close, impossibly close, and I couldn't think straight. But then again, I never could when it came to Mattheo Riddle.

"A lot of things," I mumbled, my voice barely audible. "So, which one are we talking about right now?"

His grip on my neck tightened, restricting my breath. Fear finally pierced through the haze of my infatuation. "Who sent you?" he spat. "I know you've been watching me since the beginning of the year. Tell me who sent you, or you're dead."

Dead? He thought I was a stalker, someone sent to spy on him? The truth was far more embarrassing – and much more obsessive. "Ouch," I croaked, trying to lighten the mood. "No one sent me.

He stared at me, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"I love watching people," I blurted out, a lame attempt at an explanation. His hand tightened around my neck, cutting off my air supply. I choked back a gasp, opting not to struggle.

"You are really into a lot of things," I wheezed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"This isn't a damn game," he growled, his face inches from mine. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"I know," I rasped. "And I'm telling you, no one sent me."

"So you just happen to be everywhere I'm in? Watching my every move is just a coincidence?"

"I do watch you," I confessed, meeting his gaze. The closeness was intoxicating, the scent of his cologne filling my senses.

"I, uh, I like you a lot and…" I stumbled over the words, my voice failing me.

He cut me off with a harsh laugh. "You like me a lot? So you just decide to stalk me?"

"Well, it's not… well, fine, yeah, but it wasn't that creepy, I swear!" I protested, flustered under his scrutiny.

"Go back to the castle. What did you say your name was? Y/N? Go back to the castle, and if I ever, ever saw you doing that again, I won't be this kind."

His words stung, a cold reality check washing over me. Yeah, maybe my grand plan of charming Mattheo hadn't gone exactly as planned.

"What if I don't want to?" I blurted out, blinking back tears I refused to let fall.

He sighed, frustration written all over his face. "Listen here," he said, pointing a finger between us. "This – this is not going to happen. Ever."

"Ever?" I echoed, a tiny voice in my head pleading with me to accept defeat.

He nodded. "Ever."

Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, a ridiculous statement popped out of my mouth.

"Well, I don't think so," I said, a playful smile replacing my tearful expression. "I think one day you'll be so in love with me you'll beg me to be with you."

Matteo's response was a hearty laugh. "Yeah? And what makes you think that?"

"Delusional, maybe?" I replied, mirroring his smile.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he finally released his grip on my neck. "Go back to the castle, Y/N," he repeated, his voice softer now. "I won't say that again."

I nodded, a bittersweet feeling settling in my stomach. "Yes, sir," I quipped, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

"What did you just call me?"

"Sir?" I repeated, a full smile blooming on my face.

"Don't you ever call me that again," he said, pushing his hair back in frustration.

"Fine, fine, I'm going," Stepping back. "But you know," I added, turning back to him, "being controlling isn't very healthy in a relationship." And with that I walked away the look in his eyes enough to make me run for my life.

A week crawled by. Every snide remark from Lily and Anthony about my "delusional crush" felt like another blow to my already bruised ego. Yet, a strange sense of pride bubbled beneath the hurt. I'd talked to Mattheo Riddle, gotten under his skin even. A win, as I kept telling myself.

The first time I saw him in the Great Hall after the bar incident, my heart did a somersault. He was across the room, his usual smirk plastered on his face as he bantered with his friends. But then, our eyes met. His gaze lingered for a fraction of a second longer than felt comfortable, and I quickly looked away, cheeks burning. Had he told his friends about the crazy stalker girl (me)? My stomach twisted in a knot.

Days blurred into one another, punctuated by stolen glances at Matteo in the Great Hall, Potions class, and even the Quidditch pitch (though I swore I wasn't there to see him play). Every time I felt his gaze on me, a wave of nervous excitement followed by a mad dash to the nearest deserted corridor. My behavior was erratic, even by my own standards.

Did that mean anything? Maybe. But probably not.

Dinner was a disaster. Every time I met Matteo's gaze, a jolt of excitement shot through me, followed by a wave of crippling anxiety. My hands trembled as I held my fork, and I managed to knock over my glass of pumpkin juice. A mortified squeak escaped my lips, and I felt the entire hall turn to stare.

I saw Mattheo. He smirked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. My mortification reached new heights.

I whispered to Lily. "I need to get out of here."

She nodded "Go," she mouthed.

Was I crazy? Obsessed? My friends were right. This was ridiculous. I couldn't keep acting like a lovesick fool.

Today professor Flitwick's voice echoed through the Charms classroom, "Today, we'll be practicing the Patronus Charm in pairs! Choose your partners wisely, as teamwork is crucial."

My heart skipped a beat. Partnering with anyone was nerve-wracking, but the thought of working with Mattheo sent a shiver down my spine. Of course, fate seemed to have a twisted sense of humor.

Just as I was about to pair with Anthony, Professor Flitwick called out, "Y/N (L/N) and Mr. Riddle, you'll be a fantastic team!"

Mattheo raised a questioning eyebrow, and I swear, I could hear the unspoken accusation, "Stalking me even into Charms class now?"

I held his gaze, a wry smile playing on my lips. "I swear I had no hand in this. Total coincidence."

Matteo leaned back in his chair, scanning me from head to toe with a slow, infuriating gaze. "Brave, are we?" he drawled, his voice a low rumble.

"I know," I countered, a playful smile tugging at my lips.

"Actually," I continued, unable to resist, "this isn't the first time we've worked together in a class."

He scoffed. "Don't remember."

"Of course not," I muttered, a wry smile playing on my lips. "It was third year, Herbology, Professor Sprout gave us…"

Before I could finish, he cut me off. "Nope, still drawing a blank."

"Right," I said, pushing down a surge of disappointment.

We spent the next hour working on the charm. To Matteo's surprise, I grasped the Patronus concept quickly, flawlessly conjuring a shimmering silver stag. His own attempt sputtered out, a wisp of smoke.

"You're smart," he finally admitted, a surprised glint in his eyes.

"Yeah," I replied, a playful glint in my eyes, "I was a bit of a gifted child."

"Was?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Burnt out," I explained with a shrug. "Turns out being brilliant can be a drag."

A strange silence fell between us. He held my gaze for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.

"You're so annoying," he finally said, his voice gruff.

"So you keep saying," I retorted, a smile spreading across my face. "And yet, here you are, looking at me like you don't hate my guts."

He averted his gaze, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I don't like you," he mumbled.

"Whatever," I said, a mischievous glint in my eyes. "We're done, Professor!" I called out, grabbing my bag.

As I turned to leave, I couldn't resist one last look at him. He met my gaze, a smirk playing on his lips.

The following week felt like a bizarre role reversal. After our unexpected partnership in Charms class, Mattheo seemed to be the one doing the observing. It was a subtle shift, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but I felt it like a brand new tattoo – the intensity of his gaze burning into the back of my head whenever I wasn't looking.

It started subtly. During Defense Against the Dark Arts, I caught him staring at me from across the room as Professor Moody droned on about Unforgivable Curses. His gaze lingered a beat too long before he quickly averted his eyes, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

During lunch, I was engrossed in a lively conversation with Lily when I felt a familiar prickle on the back of my neck.Looking up, I saw Mattheo seated at the Slytherin table, a half-eaten sandwich abandoned in his plate . He met my gaze for the briefest of moments before scoffing and turning away to talk to Blaise Zabini.

Today as I trudged back to the castle after visiting Honeydukes. Lost in thought about the latest sugar concoction they were offering, I almost missed him. A flash of dark hair disappearing into the Forbidden Forest, followed by a flicker of red – blood.

My heart hammered in my chest. Was I imagining things? No, it was definitely blood. Curiosity, or perhaps something more, gnawed at me. Ignoring the voice of caution in my head, I veered off the path and followed him.

He emerged from the trees a short distance away, heading towards a small, ramshackle house nestled amidst the thick undergrowth. I watched from behind a large oak, my breath catching in my throat. He stumbled slightly as he reached the door, his face pale and drawn.

I should have turned around then, just left him to his secrets. But something held me rooted to the spot. A primal urge to help, a need to know what was going on.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the house, my hand hovering over the knocker. This was crazy. What if he was hurt? What if he was in trouble with someone dangerous?

The door creaked open before I could knock. Mattheo stood there, his face contorted in a mixture of surprise and anger. There was no mistaking it this time – his face was streaked with blood, and it seemed to be coming from a nasty gash on his forehead. But that wasn't all. Blood stained his clothes in several places, and a dark smear marred his cheek.

He looked like he'd been in a war.

"So, another fight?" I managed, my voice barely a squeak.

"I thought I told you to stop following me," he growled, his voice hoarse.

"I wasn't," I blurted out, ignoring the tremor in my voice. "I was just coming back from Honeydukes, and then I saw you…"

He rolled his eyes, but I could tell the anger was fading, replaced by a weariness that mirrored my own. Taking a chance, I stepped closer, ignoring the frantic beating of my heart.

"Let me help you," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "You can't go back to the castle like that."

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded. "There's a first-aid kit in the back," he muttered, stepping aside.

I pushed past him, following his directions, I found the kit and rummaged inside.

Taking a deep breath, I shrugged off my jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair. The only light came from a single dusty window, casting long shadows across the room. Mattheo sat on the bed.

Silence hung heavy in the air as I knelt beside him. First, I cleaned the cut on his hand, the antiseptic sting making him wince.

The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my shallow breaths. Finally, I reached his face, the most serious injury – a deep gash above his eyebrow.

Gently, I dabbed at the blood with a damp cloth, my movements slow and precise. As I cleaned the wound around his lips, I found myself looking directly into his eyes. They were a dark storm, swirling with emotions I couldn't decipher.

Suddenly, I was acutely aware of my position – kneeling between his legs, my gaze locked with his. "Good boy, all done," I whispered, my voice barely above a squeak. His breath hitched, hot against my face.

Then, a touch. His fingers brushed my cheek, sending a jolt of electricity through me. We were impossibly close, his gaze flickering between my lips and my eyes.

"What are you doing?" I stammered, barely recognizing my own voice.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Before I could react further, his lips were on mine. igniting a passion that had been building for so long.

His hands moved possessively to my waist, pulling me flush against his body.as our kiss deepened.

He pulled back abruptly, pushing me gently onto the bed.. "You taste so good," he murmured against my lips, his breath hot against my skin. "You’ve been driving me insane."

“ what spell did you cost on me ?”

I couldn't help but smile against his lips. "No spell, just pure chemistry," I whispered back, my fingers tangling in his hair. This was everything I'd imagined and more.

His hands roamed over my body, trailing fire across my skin, igniting a passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long. "Say you want me to stop," he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

But the words wouldn't come. I arched into his touch, my heart pounding with anticipation. "I don't want you to stop," I urged, my breath hitching as his lips trailed down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

His touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine. "I won't," he promised, his voice filled with a hunger that matched my own.

Just then, the world exploded around us. The front door creaked open, throwing harsh sunlight into the dusty room. Mattheo and I scrambled apart, guilt and confusion flooding my face.

"Well, first of all, what the hell? I thought you hated her," Blaise Zabini drawled from the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise. He shifted his gaze to Mattheo, a smirk playing on his lips. "How can you still get energy after that fight, Riddle?"

Heat flooded my cheeks as I scrambled to gather my things. "I have to go," I mumbled, my voice strangled.

Mattheo remained silent, his gaze fixed on me. Did he want me to stay? Did he...?

I couldn't bear to wait for an answer. As I rushed towards the door, I couldn't resist a final act of defiance. Stepping on Blaise's shoe with all my might, I gave him a withering look before exiting the ramshackle house.

I heard Blaise's surprised yelp “ She’s fucking crazy, man” followed by Matteo's low chuckle. A strange sense of satisfaction washed over me.

With a final shove, I pushed the rickety door shut behind me, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Blaise's bewildered face was the last thing I saw before I was plunged into the cool evening air. My cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and a thrilling, exhilarating heat.

The sound of Blaise's voice, laced with confusion, drifted out from the house. "Didn't you say you hated her or something?"

A tense silence followed. Then, I heard it – Mattheo's voice, low and gravelly. I held my breath, straining to hear his answer.

"Yes," he said, a single word that echoed in the stillness of the forest. "I still do."

A wave of disappointment washed over me, so strong it took my breath away. It all meant nothing. He still hated me.

Closing my eyes, I forced myself to move. My legs felt heavy, but I stumbled away from the house, deeper into the darkening forest. Maybe my friends were right. Maybe this whole obsessive crush had been a complete delusion.

The following days were a masterclass in avoidance.My mission was clear – steer far, far away from Mattheo Riddle.

If I saw him sauntering down the hallway, I'd take a sharp turn into the nearest classroom, even if it meant enduring Professor Sprout's droning lecture on Mimbulus Mimbletonia for the fifth time.

Corridors became obstacle courses, as I scanned for his familiar dark hair, taking circuitous routes if I even suspected he might be lurking around a corner.

Tucked away in a secluded corner, surrounded by fragrant lavender and plump pumpkins, I finally pulled out the letter from home.

The familiar parchment felt heavy in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I unfolded the letter and started to read. It was a glowing report on my brother, praising his achievements at the Ministry and lauding his "brilliant mind." A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Of course. My brother, the golden child, the one who could do no wrong.

As I continued reading, the praise seemed to morph into a subtle criticism of me. There was no mention of my academic achievements, no congratulations on my recent Charms O.W.L.s. Just a vague allusion to my "potential" and a gentle reminder to "follow in my brother's footsteps."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the words on the page. Anger bubbled up inside me, hot and fierce. Why were they always so focused on him? Didn't they see me? Didn't they see how hard I tried?

Pushing the frustrations down, I wiped my tears with a vicious swipe.

Just as I was about to crumple up the letter, a familiar voice startled me. "Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?"

Mattheo stood before me, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. I whipped my head up, startled. The mocking smile I'd planned faltered slightly.

"Well, hello there, Riddle," I managed, a slight tremor in my voice.

He ignored my shaky greeting, his gaze fixed on my tear-streaked face. He knelt down beside me, his hand reaching out to gently touch mine. Before I could pull away, he brushed a stray tear from my cheek.

"Answer me," he pressed, his voice gentle. "Did someone hurt you?"

I managed a watery laugh."Do you think anyone could actually hurt me?"

"I think they'd regret the day they were born if they tried," he said fiercely, his thumb brushing away another tear.

A choked laugh bubbled up in my throat. He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he finally asked, his voice low and serious.

"Didn't that seem to be what you wanted all this time?" I retorted, my defenses slowly crumbling under his genuine concern.

He shook his head, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "But it never stopped you before, did it?"

"You hate me," I stated, forcing the words out, hoping to maintain some semblance of control.

He met my gaze, a surprising warmth melting away the usual façade. "Of course I do," he said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Then why are you here, caring so much for someone who claims to hate them?" I challenged, my voice trembling slightly.

He leaned in closer, his voice a mere whisper. "Well, I don't hate you. In fact, I kind of missed you these past few days. You really know how to mess with a man's head, L/N."

My breath caught in my throat. Mattheo held my gaze, his hand still gently cupping mine.

"So?" he drawled, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Am I forgiven, or should I do that dramatic monologue you conjured up that night?"

The urge to laugh was overwhelming. His teasing, that infuriatingly familiar smirk – it felt strangely comforting after the emotional rollercoaster of the past few moments. Instead of a witty retort, I leaned in and surprised even myself by kissing him.

He responded instantly, his kiss deepening with a fervor that stole my breath away.

"That would be nice," I mumbled against his lips when we finally broke apart, "but right now, this will do." I reached up and cupped his face, my fingers tracing the sharp angles of his jaw. "This," I whispered, "is more than enough."

He pulled me closer, his hand reaching up to explore the curve of my back. The kiss was different this time, slow and languid

His hand found its way under my skirt, sending a jolt of heat through me. He pulled me closer, setting me on his lap.

"What the…" a voice cut through the charged atmosphere. We both pulled away, startled, to find Blaise Zabini standing there, his jaw hanging open in a comical display of shock.

Heat flooded my cheeks "I'm going to kill him," I whispered to mattheo.

"I'd help you hide the body,"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Now that you are gone

please note that once again this is a very important topic this is the last part of this series. if you are not familiar with this series please check the warnings.

Dearest husband or should I say ex husband now that I am gone or will be gone by the time that you would have found this letter. I couldn’t do it anymore lando I saw the way you and charlotte were being burdened by my presence and just knew I had to leave.

You were never a bad husband just simply disappeared from our marriage.

Each day I crumbled infront of you and yet you stayed oblivious, it’s been over 3 months since we last shared a bed and I know you are disgusted by the thought of being with me now that I’ve let myself go, all I wanted was love but I guess it was too much to ask for.

Please don’t try and save me now that you’ve read this, I’ve been gone for far too long for you to simply try now. I know we promised forever to each-other but sometimes maybe it’s for the best that it ends early. Be there for charlotte don’t leave her alone you are the only thing she has left I doubt that she would even notice I’m gone.

I know you hated being told what to do but please make sure charlotte never finds out how I left it’s the only thing I will ask from you. I still love you I promise I just don’t love myself enough to say. The voices are getting too hard to block out.

Goodbye Lando Norris

When lando came home from the club he didn’t expect to be treated to the shrill cries of his daughter, he knew you’d be there to take care of her and had called out your name to make sure you were with her so that he could go lay down the amount of drinks he had plus the cries of his daughter made him want to throw up due to the intense headache.

little did he know everything was simply going to get worse for him.

After yelling your name for several minutes with no response he knew he had to deal with charlotte, muttering under his breath about how deaf you were being. He stomped up the hallway into little charlottes room and based of the little girls cries it seemed like she knew that she had just lost her mother. Nothing lando could do was able to console the destraught little girl. It took him an hour to get her down.

An hour which could have been used to save you.

Lando was blissfully unaware of the heartache that was going to be unleashed into his heart. He searched the house trying to find you and give you a piece of his mind.

When you were nowhere to be found he had the bright idea to check the cameras, and that lead him to his discovery. A rather shocking one that he wouldn’t even wish on his worst enemy.

In the middle of the bathroom deep within the bathtub laid his wife, his one anchor in life through everything the women he called everything laid there in tranquility. The water still and unmoving your body laid there lips blue and cold to the touch yet to lando you still looked like the prettiest women in the world. His mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening it wasn’t until it finally hit that you were not moving, this wasn’t some sick prank or a nightmare that he could wake up from this was his reality his wife was dead lying there cold and dead. The women he called his angel now was an actual angel. He had lost her he lost his love and he knew it was all his fault. He felt shame creeping up his neck knowing he was trying to find you to yell at you. His head shaked with the intensity of the situation.

It was the day after your funeral when lando had found the letter you had left for him and charlotte.

It broke lando to a different level, in his wife’s handwriting his sins were written, he and killed her he had killed you and each day he would pay for his sins.

You were always there, no matter where lando went there was a bit of you everywhere.

He couldn’t get rid of you, not that he wanted to either

The only words he could have muttered at your funeral were “it should have been me, I did it it shoukd have been me she wasn’t supposed to go so soon”.

16 years later

Little Charlotte Norris was not so little anymore, she was now a grown 17 year old girl with questions about her mothers sudden death.

Her entire life she had been shielded from the gruesome reality of how her mother died.

Her father whom she adored more than anything in the world hid the truth from her. Her mother didn’t simply die of a heart attack at 24 she died due to depression, and when Charlotte Norris unfortunately found out the bitter truth due to Lando’s negligence her world shattered.

Her father’s irresponsible behaviour killed her mother.

Landos midnight saddens had resulted in him forgetting to hide away the letters you had left for him and charlotte another careless mistake on his part which would result in him losing his daughter as well.

Charlotte was in tears when Lando returned and he just knew she had found out about everything he could simply feel it.

He tried to justify his actions and decisions blaming it on him being too young and not knowing what PPD was, unfortunately for him his little angel would hear none of it.

She had left lando just like you had.

Charlotte now went by your last name still blaming her father for the years of hurt you went through and how she had to grow up without a maternal figure, she didn’t know why but she always missed you and your soft face.

Your daughter had started up a foundation to help new mothers and fathers with postpartum depression and the anxiety new mothers face. This was the best tribute she would have ever come up with.

tagged -:

@yunnifer

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Delicate

Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: "Is it chill that you're in my head? / Cause I know that it’s delicate"

Warnings: Angst, death, major series spoilers for people who haven't finished the books

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

Sometimes I wonder, when you sleep / Are you ever dreaming of me?

Luke could admit to himself he wanted his best friend. He had for a long time. In fact everyone could see it, except for her. She seemed blissfully unaware of any feelings Luke had to the point that it made him nervous she was doing it on purpose. But if he couldn’t have her, he’d take the next best thing of being her friend. As long as she was in his life.

It was supposed to be bonfire night but Luke and Y/M had snuck off to the beach. They lay next to each other, staring up at the stars. Well, she was looking up at the stars, Luke was looking at her. They talked for hours about nothing until she finally dozed off.

Given the strict rules about curfew, Luke hardly ever got to see his best friend’s peaceful expression as she slept. Her face relaxed, unburdened by the perils of being a demigod. And as the two oldest at camp, they had a lot of perils.

Luke reached out, stroking her hair. That elicited a content sigh from her and he wondered if she was aware it was him. He wondered if she thought about or dreamed about him nearly as much as he did her. He had an ever present fantasy of absolutely sweeping her off her feet in a moment of glory. One of his favorites was after he won capture the flag, he’d march right up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and just kiss her.

But of course that would never happen so he kept it stashed in the back of his mind.

He let her sleep for a few more minutes before he finally woke her up. “Hey, you gotta get up or the harpies will get us,” he laughed softly, shaking her awake.

She groaned but opened her eyes nonetheless.

Sometimes when I look into your eyes / I pretend you're mine all the damn time

Her eyes. Luke could probably get lost in them forever. He didn’t even need to watch the stars. He’d much rather watch the reflection of them in her eyes.

Unfortunately, the moment was ruined by one of the Athena boys. “Oh, hey Luke. Um, I just came to find Y/N. Chiron said late curfew starts in five minutes.”

“Really?” she asked, sitting up. “How long was I asleep?”

Luke felt his face get hot. He actually had no idea, he had completely lost track of time while watching her. “Uh not long. I just didn’t want to wake you,” he tried to play it off smoothly.

She gave him a soft smile, her hand finding his knee. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to waste your night.”

“No, no, no,” he quickly corrected. “You’re never a waste of time.”

“So um,” the Athena boy cut in awkwardly. “You want me to walk you to your cabin, Y/N? It’s right across from mine.”

Luke felt a surge of possessiveness. This guy clearly liked her. But before she could answer, Luke did it for her. “We’ll head over in a few minutes but thanks,” he tried to dismiss him.

The boy looked discouraged but tried to play it off. “Oh- uh ok.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Y/N offered, feeling bad for him. He immediately brightened with a smile before retreating back to his cabin.

Luke hated that she always seemed to leave the door open for other guys. They had had numerous conversations about the boys that liked her so he knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose. She just felt bad outright rejecting them so her sugar coating often came across as a signal to try harder. He just wished he could make it clear to them she was taken. Of course, she wasn’t his (yet).

Once Luke was sure he was out of earshot, he brought the topic up again. “He likes you.”

“No he doesn’t,” she immediately dismissed.

“Yes he does, and you trying to make him feel better about rejecting him doesn’t make it any better.”

“I didn’t reject him, you did.”

“Because I know you don’t like him.”

“Who says I don’t like him?” she shrugged.

Luke’s heart stopped. He had been playing defense so well for so long now that it hadn’t even occurred to him that she could like someone else. “What?”

She just shrugged again. “Who’s to say I don’t like him? You chased him away before I could get a word in.”

“D-do you like him?” Luke’s heart was pounding in his chest.

“No, but I’m just saying-”

“Gods, Y/N!” Luke interrupted in relief. “Don’t scare me like that.”

A satisfied look crossed over her face. “Why is that scary?”

He sent her a playful glare. “You know.”

“Tell me,” she pressed.

Is it cool that I said all that? / Is it chill that you're in my head?

Luke’s heart was pounding in his chest. She had basically already confirmed she was into him but the fear still lingered in his chest. He just had to say the words and he’d have his fantasy. She’d be his.

“I like you, Y/N. I have for a long time. I was just always scared you’d… I don’t know, reject me. Or think I was being stupid. But I like you.” Luke looked at her nervously, unsure of what she’d say. His heart was still pounding even when she leaned over and kissed him. As she tried to pull away for air, Luke’s hands found their way to her face, keeping her close. “I’m not done yet,” he mumbled against her lips, eliciting a giggle.

Long night with your hands up in my hair / Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs

That night Luke really didn’t want to leave her but Y/N wasn’t willing to break the rules just yet. He had spent the entire walk back to the cabins trying to convince her to sneak into the Hermes cabin. “Please, I swear no one will snitch on you.”

She laughed, intertwining her fingers into his. “Well what about my siblings when they see I’m not in bed? What will the children think?” By now they reached Cabin 7.

“The children can think whatever they want,” Luke smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips. It was late but several campers were still awake. Word of the couple would spread like wildfire and by the morning, even Chiron would know about the new couple.

But spending every night separately wouldn’t last for long. Y/N normally spent the evenings in the Hermes cabin where they had somehow managed to smuggle many forbidden things in. Like video games and junk food. And every night when the conch blew, signaling that curfew was soon, Luke begged her to stay. “Come on, no one will tell. Will you?” he asked his siblings.

That received a resounding “No!” swearing they’d keep our secret. She looked around the room, her resolve crumbling after weeks of this. “Fine,” she agreed. So many cheers erupted you’d think she just agreed to marry him. “But!” she waited for them to quiet down, “I’m still a counselor and I have to make sure everyone else is in bed.” Luke pouted but let her go nonetheless, promising to drag her back to Cabin 11 if she didn’t come back.

So after putting all the younger kids to bed, Y/N snuck back to Cabin 11. She found it dark but made her way to Luke’s bed. As she reached it, Luke could recognize the outline of her created by the moonlight. “Finally, I was just about to come break down your door.”

“Ha ha,” she laughed sarcastically. “Scoot over,” Luke obliged, sliding against the wall to create room. She slipped under the covers, settling against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her tightly, his face buried in her hair.

“‘M glad you’re staying,” he mumbled. “Feel like it’s easier to fall asleep when you’re with me.” He didn’t say it out loud but he liked having the assurance that she was safe in his arms as they slept.

“Me too,” she mused, her eyes already closed. “But I’ll say you kidnapped me if we get caught.”

“Okay,” Luke chucked. “You can blame me.”

My reputation's never been worse, so / You must like me for me

But those nights were gone now. Luke made his choice but so did she.

“Isn’t it messed up how the gods neglect their kids?” Luke asked as casually as possible, staring out at sea, his fingers tracing the dock.

“Yeah,” she mused. “Can you imagine being an omnipotent, immortal being but you can’t even take the time to tell your kid they belong to you? I mean, Apollo’s been pretty good about it but the others…?”

The pressure in Luke’s chest lessened as she more or less agreed with him. “Or how they treat us as disposable puppets? Like pawns?” He watched her face carefully as she considered it.

“What do you mean?”

Here we go. Luke began chipping at any remaining loyalty she had to the gods. “Well think about it. Thalia? Her godly parents could have saved her. Every demigod who died? Their parent could have saved them. My quest was a joke. All Hermes wanted me to do was repeat one of Heracles’ labors.”

She looked deep in thought. “I guess but why are you asking me about this?”

He took a deep breath before lacing his fingers in hers. “I’ve been uh… talking to someone.” She didn’t say anything but her furrowed brow urged him to continue. “I’ve been told that things don’t have to be the way they are. We don’t have to wait around until we’re killed. The Titan Lord could restore-”

“Shut up right now!” her frightened voice cut him off. She pulled her legs out of the water, shifting her sitting position to face him directly. “Luke! What- how- why are you doing this? So what if you can’t rely on the gods? You certainly can’t trust Kronos anymore.”

He gently grasped her hands. “Y/N, he promised every demigod that joins him immortality and safety. We wouldn’t have to cower in a summer camp with children who most likely won’t make it to their 18th birthdays. Please, come with me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.” That broke his heart. “Luke, I love you. I really do. But I can’t let you go down this path.”

Through his internal struggle with Kronos, Luke could see Y/N staring at him, pain in her eyes. He gripped Annabeth’s knife tightly, saying a silent goodbye to everyone he loved and a curse to Kronos. “I love you,” he tried to say to her but it came out strained. The blade sunk into his only vulnerable spot under his arm—his Achilles heel.

“No!” he heard her yell. But he was already on the ground, beginning to lose consciousness at the fatal blow. But Y/N was kneeling over him, tears leaving tracks on her dirty face. “No, no, no,” she mumbled. “Why, Luke?” she practically screamed in frustration.

He reached up, wiping her tears and some dirt from her face. “Do you still love me? After everything I did?”

“Of course I love you!” she cried. “I never stopped.”

Despite the pain, he was smiling. “I love you too. I’ll see you in Elysium.”

She nodded, trying to smile too but the sobs were clawing their way of her throat. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Not too soon,” he insisted. “I love you, Y/N.”

Masterlist

[mingisongs]

𓇢𓆸 solace in us

ateez! song mingi x reader ᡣ𐭩

summary; your boyfriend comforts you thru health concerns and fertility issues

pairing; song mingi x afab!reader

word count; 2.2k

tags; comfort, fluff, grief

trigger warnings; infertility, reproductive illness !!

notes; personal to me — ♡

ᡣ𐭩

my dream had always been to be a mother.

and after meeting mingi, that desire grew into an aching need. the thought of us blossoming into such a testament of our love as that filled me with not only joy for my own dream, but euphoria at the thought of getting to be the person who makes him a father. he was young, i was young, but i had never met anyone with as much love to give as he did, and i felt in my heart that he could and would be the best parent.

he was aware that i was no longer on any form of contraceptive, and while we weren’t purposefully trying to conceive, we weren’t actively trying to prevent it. it wasn’t really a thought for either of us, and the way we were intimate was never careless nor with the sole intent to get pregnant. but we both shared the idea that we wanted a family together in the future, and my greatest hope was that i would be able to surprise him with the news that he was going to be a father.

i sat beside him on my couch, my chin resting against my knees as my thighs were brought up to my chest. he was sleepily watching the movie we’d put on an hour prior, but my drowsy eyes could only focus on him. he was unaware of my staring at him, and i giggled quietly, causing his attention to turn to me.

“what?” he asked, blissfully ignorant to the fact that i hadn’t been paying a bit of attention to the TV. his bare, clear skin without makeup adorning his eyelids, playful concern spreading across his face as i struggled to answer. i shook my head, unsure of why the bliss i felt was causing me to laugh.

“i just love you,” i said softly.

his bashfulness caused the soft pink of his cheeks to darken, while i knew he wasn’t shy about his affection, but just flustered when i professed my adoration for him unprompted. he reached out, pulling me against him, and i snuggled closer into his chest. his scent was so comforting, welcoming, him. i hated the way that his presence made me sleepy from how safe i felt, because i wanted nothing more than to stay awake 24/7 showering him with kisses and praise.

he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “i love you more than anything.” another kiss, his lips against my hair longer this time. “anything.”

we fell asleep on the couch that night.

•

the next day, i was sat on the bathroom floor. i was struggling to keep quiet, but devastation was debilitating me, and stifling my sobs was becoming more and more difficult by the second. mingi was still here at my apartment, but he was in the other room, and in his usual fashion i knew he was waiting patiently impatient for me to return.

it was the fourth time my late period came with not one, but two negative pregnancy tests, and the knowledge i had of my cycle had made it almost impossible for the timing to have been wrong. i wrapped the plastic tests in toilet paper and shoved them down into the trash can, and stood up to wipe my eyes. splashing my face with cold water, wiping my nose, trying to convince myself it was okay, nothing helped. every time i felt a sliver of peace, it was broken with the reality of the circumstances. it took forever to catch my breath and gain the courage to return to mingi’s side.

when i opened the bathroom door, however, he was standing directly behind it, staring at me with a worry and fear i had never seen in his eyes before.

“what’s wrong?” he asked. “you were crying?”

i felt paralyzed, my blood frozen cold in my veins. we were both too nervous to speak.

he finally reached out, taking my hand in his. “please, please tell me.”

i didn’t want to speak, it felt as though i couldn’t. “i… i’m sorry for worrying you —”

he reached up to wipe a tear from under my eye. “talk to me. that’s what i’m here for.”

“my… my period was late,” i stuttered out. “but i took two tests and they were negative.” my voice broke at the end of my sentence. i hated that i felt so broken up over this. his love and his presence was more than enough, my happiness wasn’t reliant on being a mother.

“oh,” he pulled me into him, breathing out a sigh of relief and sadness. ���baby, it’s okay.”

“no, it’s not,” i sniffed. “i feel so broken.”

“you’re not broken.” he rubbed my back and he squeezed me tighter. “you are so perfect.”

i cried into his shirt for a while longer, and as perfect as he is, he was there with me until i got through it.

•

my new doctor had ordered testing. they wouldn’t have been as concerned, if symptoms outside of not getting pregnant hadn’t also been present. bloodwork, ultrasounds, MRIs. the results were all to be discussed with my doctor at once, and i waited anxiously as the days passed before i met with her.

mingi clutched my hand, rubbing his fingers on my skin reassuringly, my knee bouncing rapidly. i had protested him being present for this appointment, yet he expressed the need to be there for me, and while he respected me immensely, i decided that his accompaniment would be beneficial in the long run. and i was right, as the news delivered by my doctor made my brain pull the parachute cord, and i was outside my body for the entirety of our conversation.

if he was upset, he masked it well, as he held my hand and took care of speaking to the doctor on my behalf. it was hard for me to cry in the presence of medical professionals, so i was frozen, the lump in my throat aching so bad i thought i might throw up. the doctor’s professionalism came across as apathetic, though the sadness in her eyes at having to share the results with me was apparent. bicornuate uterus, external endometrial adhesions, fallopian blockage, hydrosalpinx… she couldn’t fathom how the pain was tolerable for me, or how these things hadn’t been caught sooner. she was apologetic. she said she was sorry the health care system and medical industry had failed me. she said we could discuss other treatment options at a later date when i was ready. for now i was being put on a form of birth control, hormonal drug, contraceptive to help the symptoms and shrink the growths.

back in the car, mingi held me, and i cried.

•

when we returned home, my heart broke at my inability to be present for mingi, but i went straight to bed. i laid down, my blinds closed and the lights out, and covered myself with my blanket. it was cold in my apartment, beginning to rain outside, and i knew that the cool air would be a comfort as my tears burned my face.

the hum of the air conditioning overpowered the sound of footsteps, and i was startled by mingi joining me in bed.

“you don’t have to -”

“i want to,” he interrupted.

his arms slid around me from behind, pulling me close into being his little spoon, and he held me tight, resting his hand under my shirt, right on my lower belly between my hips.

as soon as his warm fingers spread across my skin, i couldn’t stop the tears. he pressed a kiss to my back, his forehead against my shoulder. “i wish i could take your pain away.”

i sniffed. “i’m glad that you don’t have to.”

his lips were warm against my skin, his voice soft and quiet. “baby, i hate to see you in pain.”

i struggled to speak. “i won’t be able to make you a father.”

i felt him take a shaky breath, and he gently grabbed my arm to turn me over and face him. he had taken so much initiative and cared for me so much in the short while that i’d been struggling, so i didn’t resist when he wanted to speak to me directly. i just didn’t want to see his face knowing i was causing him to cry.

but when i looked at him, he was giving me the saddest smile, tears welling in his eyes. “and i won’t be able to make you a mother,” he said, touching my face gently. “it’s not your fault. i wish so badly that i could give you the same.” he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “but we have so much time and so many options.”

i felt unworthy of such love and kindness. “it makes me feel so worthless,” i said. “i knew something was wrong. i just didn’t expect it to be that bad. i didn’t expect my body to be that fucked up.”

he traced his thumb along my cheekbone to wipe a tear away. “it’s not fucked up. nothing about you is fucked up. it is not your fault.” he kissed my nose. “today, i love you more than i ever have. and there is nothing worth more than your love to me.”

•

he wasn’t in bed when i woke up the next day. i figured he had stepped out briefly for something, but i didn’t question or worry. he had a habit of leaving without waking me if he thought he’d be back before i got up for the day.

i checked the time, though, and it was almost noon. i sleep a lot when i’m sad. and i sleep so deep. i could barely keep my eyes open.

mingi held me all night, until i was able to relax. my heart still ached so heavily in my chest. but the panic was gone. i was left with exhaustion and absolute despair. it wasn’t because i felt like my purpose was to be a mother, or that my happiness relied on it, or that i was failing mingi. it was because i was sick, my body was broken, and i had a chronic disease inside of me that made my future unclear and scary.

that was the worst of it. the infertility was just the icing on that cake.

i heard the front door open, and got tense at the same time that i felt comfort from mingi’s return. he was quiet as he moved about the kitchen, his movements gentle and silent for — what i KNEW was — my sake. he would’ve parted the seas for me, had i asked.

i didn’t hear him walking towards the bedroom, yet i heard the sound of a small bell jingling, and stayed still to listen closer. it couldn’t have been his keys, but i was unsure as to what it could’ve been otherwise. i hadn’t heard a sound like it before.

just as i sat up, a little gray and white kitten with a bell hanging from her collar came running into the room.

my mouth immediately fell open in shock, throwing the blankets off of me to join the kitten on the floor. i got to my knees to get a closer look, and behind the kitten followed my sweet mingi.

i looked up at him in awe, and he grinned happily.

“you didn’t,” i said. he joined me on the floor, crossing his legs, sitting right beside me.

he lifted the kitten up and set it in my lap, and i held my hands up, unsure what to do, but the little baby curled up on my lap and stared up at me, bright blue eyes looking calm and curious.

“it’s a girl,” he said. “i had been wanting to surprise you for a while but… after yesterday, i figured it was the right time.”

“oh, mingi,” i whispered, reaching down to pet her. she immediately began purring and leaning into my touch. seeing her up close, i realized her collar was a pink bow, the little gold bell jingling quietly with every movement. i looked back at mingi. he was looking back at me with such love, but also waiting intently to hear about how i felt. “i love you so much. i don’t know what to say.”

“are you happy?” he asked, his concern for my wellbeing so endearing i wanted to melt.

i nodded, reaching out to pull him in, and kiss him softly on his lips. “i am so happy. this is the most amazing thing you could’ve done for me.” i took his face in both hands, looking him in the eyes. “i love you.” another kiss.

he laughed quietly, kissing me back.

“so many things are uncertain,” he said. “and all we can do is wait it out. but i hope that one thing you never question is how much i love you. how in love with you i am.” he reached out to pet the kitten in my lap. “and now, she can be a testament to that.”

he became engrossed in petting her, talking to her sweetly, but i couldn’t look away from him. he was so loving, and so giving, and so perfect. it would take me an infinite amount of lifetimes to ever begin to repay him and it still wouldn’t be enough. i would be forever indebted to his selfless devotion, yet all he asked for in return was my presence. my affection. my love.

and song mingi will forever own my heart. ♡

[itneverendshere]

hi! For the bartender!Universe would u mind writing a pregnancy scare? It brings a lot of mixed emotions when they find out she wasn’t pregnant and it ends up a really deep talk about what they want with their future? Thank you so much 💕💕

i got a similiar ask at the exact same time so i decided to combine aspects of both!!! the other request: "this one’s a lil angsty. maybe you have a pregnancy scare and while rafes like super excited for the potential baby, you’re not, the stress of keeping rafe clean and not heading back to rehab lingers your mind".

hope you both enjoy!!!!❤️🫂🤭

 just want you in my life keep you warm at nights - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: pregnancy scare; insecurities

Rafe was sprawled out beside you, his arm draped lazily across your stomach as he scrolled through his phone. You could feel the pressure of his hand pressing gently on your skin, but your mind was a million miles away, your gaze stuck on the ceiling fan.

It felt like everything had been on autopilot for the past few days, your mind preoccupied with one thing—late. Not like a few days late.

More like over a week late.

It wasn’t the first time your period had been irregular, but you couldn’t help but spiral immediately. Rafe and you had been together for three and a half years, living together for a while now and he’d proposed last autumn. But this? This wasn’t part of the plan.

Not yet.

“Hey,” His voice snapped you back to the present, his brows furrowed as he looked at you, concern evident in his blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, trying to force a smile. “Nothing... just thinking.”

He shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you more closely. “Thinkin’ about what?”

You stomach dropped. You hadn’t told him yet. You weren’t sure if there was anything to tell because you hadn’t even taken the test. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. Saying it out loud would make it real. And that terrified you.

Rafe, on the other hand, would probably be thrilled. He’d always talked about kids like they were a given, like it was part of some unspoken future you were destined for. You wanted them too, but the truth? The truth was, the idea of being responsible for another human being when you were still trying to recover from Rafe's scare last year and keeping your shit together now that you’d gotten a promotion at the club—well, it felt like too much.

You couldn’t say that, though. Not to him. So you kept quiet. 

The next day, you stared at the small plastic stick in your hand, heart hammering in your chest as you waited for the result to appear. The bathroom was dead silent, save for the faint drip of the sink, but your mind was anything but quiet.

This one stupid piece of plastic was going to dictate the rest of your life. It could change everything in the blink of an eye. Three minutes. That’s how long it would take to find out if your entire world was about to be turned upside down.

You still hadn’t told Rafe. You didn’t even know how to. His mind was in a good place lately, and you weren’t about to ruin that. After everything we’d been through—the relapse, the rehab, the nights where you weren’t sure if he’d make it out—this was not something you were ready to throw on both of you.

You hadn’t even wrapped your head around it yet. Shit, you could barely breathe just thinking about the possibility. You glanced at your phone, biting your lip as the seconds ticked by.

Almost time. Your stomach twisted into endless knots. He was in the living room, blissfully unaware of the panic attack you were on the verge of having just a few feet away. You could hear him flipping through channels on the TV, probably looking for some show to watch. Part of you felt guilty for not telling him, but how were you supposed to tell him when you didn’t even know what you wanted?

The idea of being pregnant had scared you more than you expected.

Not because you hated kids or anything, you grew up rising Milo for fuck’s sake—it was just the timing. Or maybe it was more than that.

Your mom died shortly after you were born and your dad…well, a drunk piece of shit was hardly a good parental figure. You’d never let yourself think about it before, Rafe had told you how good you were with kids a million times over the years, but you didn’t know how you’d turn out with your own kids. You didn’t want to be anything like them, ever. 

Taking a deep breath, you finally glanced down at the test.

Negative.

Relief took over you so fast it made you feel lightheaded. You hadn’t realized just how much pressure you’d been carrying on your shoulders until it was gone in an instant. Thank God.

Your shoulders slumped as you exhaled, leaning against the sink for support. You felt like you finally could breathe again, like you could relax for the first time in what felt like weeks. There was no baby. No life-altering change. No new responsibility that you didn’t know how to handle.

You closed your eyes. This was good. This was the outcome you needed. No baby, no stress, just… back to normal.

But then, life had a twisted sense of humor and the door creaked open. “Hey, baby, you—”

Your eyes flew open, heart dropping in your chest as you quickly shoved the pregnancy test behind your back. Rafe stood in the doorway, looking at you with his signature confused look—one eyebrow cocked, lips slightly parted, like he’d walked in on something he wasn’t supposed to.

You forced a smile, too wide and too fake, and took a step back, trying to act casual. “Oh, uh, hey! What’s up?” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you internally winced. Smooth.

He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “What are you hiding behind your back?”

Shit.

You tried to laugh it off, shaking your head like it was no big deal. “Hiding? Me? I’m not hiding anything.”

His eyes moved to the hand behind your back. “Really? Because it sure looks like you are.”

You swallowed hard, your brain rushing to come up with some excuse, any excuse. 

But the longer you stood there, the more suspicious you looked. And Rafe was nothing if not persistent when he thought something was up. Before you could stop him, he pushed off the doorframe and closed the distance between you two, his hand reaching behind your back in one smooth motion. Your stomach dropped as he grabbed the test from your hand, pulling it out in front of both of us.

He stared at the pregnancy test in his hand, his eyes widening with realization as he slowly processed what he was seeing. What he was holding. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out at first. He just stood there. 

“Y-You thought you were pregnant?”

The heat rose to your cheeks, and the anxiety that had been building in your stomach for days came back at full force. You were still reeling from the relief of the negative result, but now that relief was giving up space for guilt. You hadn’t meant for him to find out like this, or maybe not even at all. You didn’t want to drag him into the spiral you’d been caught in, not when things had been going so well lately.

“I... I wasn’t sure,” you stammered, looking down at the floor because it was easier than meeting his eyes. “I mean, I was late, and I just…I didn’t know.”

Rafe’s face softened, the confusion in his eyes giving way to concern as he took a step toward you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing again, this time for a different reason. The last thing you wanted to do was lie but telling him the truth felt impossible.

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” you admitted, “I wasn’t even sure if I was, and I didn’t want to freak you out for no reason.”

Rafe’s hand was still holding the test, but now he was looking at you with that intensity he always had when he knew you were telling the entire truth. He wasn’t mad—he never got mad, not anymore—but you could tell he was hurt that you hadn’t let him in. You felt awful about it.

“I wouldn’t have freaked out,” he said gently, stepping even closer until he was right in front of you. “You know that, right? You don’t have to do this alone.”

That was the thing, though. Over the past year you’d spent so long worrying about him, making sure he was healthy, that the idea of burdening him again with your own fears had become...strange.

You didn’t want to be another weight on his shoulders.

“I know, I just…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know how to feel about it. And I didn’t want you to—”

“To what?” he pressed softly, his voice so calm and reassuring that it made the stress loosen just a little.

You took a deep breath, “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, I guess. Or feel disappointed if it was negative.”

He set the test down on the counter beside him, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. “Baby, I wouldn’t be disappointed,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “If it had been positive, great. If it’s not, that’s fine too. We’ve got time. It’s not like we have to figure this out right now.”

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak. “You’re really not mad?”

Rafe shook his head, “I wish you would’ve told me what you were going through. I don’t want you to carry that by yourself.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. There was so much you wanted to say, so many fears you’d been holding onto—not just about the possibility of being pregnant, but about everything. About whether you were even ready for kids at all, about what kind of parent you’d be, about whether you could handle the responsibility when your past still haunted you in ways you hadn’t recovered from.

“It’s not just that,” you whispered, “I don’t know if I’m ready, Rafe. And it scares the shit out of me.”

He was silent for a moment, and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, his expression was so gentle, so understanding, that it almost broke you.

“Hey,” he pulled you into his arms. “We don’t have to be ready right now. There’s no rush. When you’re ready, we’ll talk about it."

You buried your face in his chest, letting him heartbeat calm you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and for the first time in what felt like days, you allowed yourself to relax.

“I-I know you want a baby. But—”

He sighed against your hair, lips brushing your temple, “What I want is for you to be happy. And if this doesn’t make you happy right now, I don’t mind waiting. We got forever, remember?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want kids—it was that right now, everything already felt like too much. Planning a wedding, keeping up with work, holding your relationship together after what you both had been through, it was all overwhelming. And then the idea of a baby on top of that? You’d grow crazy.

Rafe’s fingers brushed through your hair, and you just let yourself be in his comfort. But the guilt was still there, eating you whole from the inside. You should’ve told him from the start, not carried it all on your own like you always do.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered into his chest, voice muffled. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just didn’t know what to do. It’s been a lot lately.”

He kissed the top of your head, his hands gentle as they held you. “You don’t have to apologize, baby. You’re dealing with enough already.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I think I’m losing my mind.”

The wedding. God, the wedding. You hadn’t even let yourself fully acknowledge how much that had been stressing you out too. You’d dreamed about this day since you were a kid, but now, between caterers, guest lists, dress fittings, and everything else, it felt like a full-time job. And the worst part was, the more overwhelmed you got, the more guilty you felt for not being excited enough about it.

“I just want everything to be perfect,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I want it to be special, but it’s starting to feel like a chore. Like I’m supposed to care more about seating charts and floral arrangements than... than actually enjoying the fact that we’re getting married.”

 “Then let’s cut back. We don’t need some huge, over-the-top thing if it’s stressing you out. I just want to marry you, that’s all that matters to me.”

He always knew exactly how to calm you down, how to remind you what was important when everything else felt a little too crazy.

“But what about your family?” you asked, wiping at the corner of your eyes. “They’re expecting this big thing.”

He shrugged, “They’ll get over it. This is about us, not them. If you want something smaller, we can do that. Hell, we can get married in the backyard for all I care, as long as it’s what you want.”

The sincerity in his voice almost made you want to bawl your eyes out. You took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I think I’d like that. Something smaller. More us.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he nodded. You let out a sigh of relief, the knot in your chest loosening more. Maybe this was what you needed—to let go of the pressure to have it all figured out. To accept that it was okay to not be ready for everything.

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

“I love you too,” he replied, his forehead resting against yours. “But baby, you have to stop worrying so much about me. I’m okay. I’m doing good, and I’m not going back there. But you’re gonna drive yourself crazy if you keep putting me first and ignoring what you need.”

You blinked, your breath catching slightly. “I’m not ignoring what I need—”

“You are,” he cut in gently, but firmly. “You’ve been doing it for months now. Since the relapse, since rehab. You’ve been carrying all this, stressing about keeping everything together. And I love you for wanting to take care of me, but you can’t keep putting yourself second. It’s not fair to you.”

You wanted to argue, to say you were fine, that it was just what you had to do to keep everything from falling apart. But deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been holding on so tight, so terrified that if you let go, if you stopped worrying about him for even a second, you’d lose him again. 

“I’m just scared,” you whispered, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Rafe said softly, pulling you closer. “But if you keep this up, you’re gonna lose yourself.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your face into his chest as the tears you’d been holding back finally started to fall. Rafe held you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. He didn’t try to hush you or tell you to stop. He just let you cry, let you get it all out, like he knew you’d needed this release for a long time. You couldn’t stop. Everything you’d been bottling up for months was spilling out at once.

Rafe held you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. He didn’t try to hush you or tell you to stop. He just let you cry, let you get it all out, like he knew you’d needed this for a long time.

You pulled back slightly, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling what you’re feeling. But you’ve gotta start trusting that I’m okay."

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”

"You’re allowed to let me take care of you too, you know?”

You let out a small laugh, wiping the last of the tears from your face. “I’m not great at that.”

“Meh, you used to be a lot worse.”

“Yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, leaning into his familiar warmth.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You used to keep everything so locked up, I’d have to pry things out of you.

His words made you chuckle, despite yourself. It was true. You had gotten better at letting him in—at least compared to before.

“You’ve always been so good at taking care of me,” you whispered, your hand tracing soft patterns across his chest. “But I guess sometimes I still forget that I don’t have to be strong all the time.”

 “You don’t. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve always got you.”

He meant it—every word. This was Rafe at his best, the man who had fought his way back from the darkness, who had become the partner you always knew he could be. The boy you fell in love with, the man you were going to marry and grow old with.

“I’m really trying,” you murmured, blinking back the last of your tears. “I don’t want to keep worrying about everything or trying to control what’s out of my hands. I just want us to be happy.”

“You make me happier than I’ve ever been, and I don’t want you to ever doubt that.”

You hesitated for a second, biting your lip before finally speaking up.

"Rafe?" you said softly, looking up at him. He hummed in response, his hand still tracing slow, comforting circles on your back.

"Are you… are you sure you're not sad about the, uh, not pregnant thing?" Your voice was quiet, unsure. You didn’t know why you felt the need to ask again. Even with all his reassurances, a part of you couldn’t ignore the worry that he might feel disappointed deep down.

He sighed gently, his lips quirking into a soft, understanding smile. "Baby, no," he said firmly, shaking his head as if to emphasize his point. "I promise you, I’m not sad. It doesn’t change anything between us. I told you before—we’ve got time. I’m happy with where we are right now. I don’t need a baby to make me feel complete. You already do that."

You couldn't help but ask again, just to be sure. "Really? You’re not disappointed?"

Rafe sighed softly, moving his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he looked at you with those steady blue eyes. "Not disappointed. Not sad. I’m just glad you’re here. That’s all I care about. I’m fine with whatever the outcome is as long as I have you.”

"You’re really okay with this?" 

He frowned slightly, his hand coming up to gently tilt your chin so you were looking directly at him. "Listen to me. You could never disappoint me. Okay?"

You still had questions, still had insecurities about the future, but for the first time in days, you weren’t consumed by them and allowed yourself to believe that everything really was going to be good.

"Okay."

[kusakiguzen]

Hello 👋 um I don't know if your request is open, but could you do yandere Shanks x female reader headcanon. Like how Shanks meet the reader, how he got obsessed, etc. (Can you make it where shanks crew is obsessed with the reader too, not in a romantic way and helps shanks)

A/N: It took me a while to get a good enough idea and i have two. I feel this is soul less but i did my best with my degrading mental health right now. I hope you enjoy.

I'm not really familiar with the crew except Benn so i did include him. I don't think this is my best work and i honestly hate it and will probably try again once in a better headspace.

I apologize if its not up to your taste

Warning: Has a shit ton of grammatical mistakes, I'm so sorry

Thank you for stopping by

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Red force. Laughter and the sounds of clashing swords filled the air, a reminder of the crew’s relentless spirit. You were nestled in a corner of the ship, blissfully unaware of the darker truths that surrounded you. As Ben Beckman’s little sister, you had grown up sheltered from the harsh realities of the world, always finding comfort in your brother’s protective presence.

Your first encounter with Shanks was a vivid memory. It had been a fateful day when your brother brought you on the infamous captain aboard the Red force for a visit. You had been playing with a few of the younger crewmates, their laughter echoing around you, when Ben approached, his usual calm demeanor slightly overshadowed by a hint of excitement.

“Y/N, come here! I want you to meet someone special,” he called, ushering you toward the main deck.

You followed, curious and eager. As you stepped into the sunlight, your eyes landed on the man with red hair, his grin wide and inviting. “Hey there! You must be Ben’s little sister. I’ve heard so much about you!”

Your heart raced at the sight of him. He was everything stories had described—a charismatic figure whose presence lit up the room. “Hi! I’m Y/N,” you said, beaming.

Shanks smiling while holding your hand, his playful nature shining through. “I hear you love adventures. How about we have one together? I could use a partner in crime!”

You giggled, completely taken in by his charm. “Really? That sounds amazing!”

That day marked the beginning of your bond with Shanks. He took you on a mini adventure around the ship, showing you the ropes and regaling you with tales of his travels. You listened, wide-eyed, as he spoke of battles and treasures, unaware of the underlying dangers that came with such a life.

As you laughed and explored, you felt a sense of warmth and safety that enveloped you. Little did you know that Shanks, even then, had been captivated by your innocence, seeing you as a light in a world filled with shadows.

Fast forward to the present, and Shanks was still a constant figure in your life, always by your side, watching over you with a mix of affection and an intensity that you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, Y/N!” Shanks called out one afternoon, striding over with that signature grin. “What are you up to?”

“Just watching the waves,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with innocence. “It’s so peaceful!”

Shanks’ heart raced at your words. He loved how you saw the world, so untouched by the dangers lurking just beyond the horizon. “You know, the world isn’t as safe as it seems,” he said, his tone shifting ever so slightly. “But I promise to protect you, no matter what.”

You giggled, brushing off his concern. “I know! Ben would never let anything happen to me.”

At the mention of your brother, Shanks’ expression softened. Ben was fiercely protective, almost possessive, and the crew had come to share that sentiment. While they all adored you, their affection had a darker edge, something you remained blissfully unaware of.

“Ben’s always looking out for you,” Shanks agreed, stepping closer. “But sometimes, you need to rely on others too. Like me.”

You smiled, oblivious to the way his gaze lingered on you, filled with intensity. “Of course! You’re my favorite big brother figure!”

Shanks chuckled, though a hint of frustration bubbled beneath the surface. He wanted more than just the role of a guardian; he longed to claim you as his own. But he also understood that you were naive to the world's cruelties. That innocence was something he cherished, and he’d do anything to keep it intact.

Meanwhile, Ben watched from a distance, arms crossed, his eyes narrowed. He’d seen the way Shanks looked at you, and though he trusted his captain, an unsettling feeling gnawed at him. He would always prioritize your safety above all else, even if it meant keeping you sheltered from the crew's darker inclinations.

“Y/N!” Ben called, stepping forward. “How about a game? Just the two of us.”

You perked up, grateful for your brother’s attention. “Sure! What should we play?”

As you wandered off with Ben, Shanks watched, his expression conflicted. He loved you dearly, but he knew that your brother's presence would always be a barrier. Later that evening, as you prepared to settle down for the night, Ben and Shanks found a moment to speak privately.

“Shanks,” Ben began, his tone serious. “We both care about Y/N. We need to keep her safe.”

Shanks nodded, his expression hardening. “I agree. The world is dangerous, and we both know it. But together, we can protect her.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “We need to be vigilant. No one can get to her without going through us.”

“Exactly,” Shanks replied, a determined glint in his eye. “We’ll make sure she never sees the darkness of this world. We’re in this together, Ben. We’ll keep her innocent and happy, no matter what.”

Days passed, filled with laughter and adventures on the high seas. Yet, as you explored, the crew’s obsession grew, entwining around you like a vine. You remained blissfully unaware, believing the crew’s protectiveness stemmed from love and friendship. Little did you know, their hearts were tied together by a darker thread, one that bound them to you more tightly than any affection could.

One night, as the stars twinkled above, you sat on the deck, lost in thought. Shanks approached, leaning against the railing beside you. “You okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah! Just thinking about how lucky I am to be with you all,” you replied, your eyes shining with sincerity.

Shanks’ smile faltered for a brief moment, replaced by a more serious look. “You have no idea how lucky you are… or how dangerous this world can be.”

You tilted your head, confused. “I mean, I’ve heard stories, but it doesn’t feel that way here.”

“Exactly,” Shanks said, his voice low. “And that’s how it should stay. As long as we’re here, you’ll always be safe.”

You grinned, completely missing the intensity behind his words. “I know! You all make me feel so protected.”

As the night deepened, Shanks’ hand brushed against yours, an electric jolt that sent a thrill down your spine. You looked up, meeting his gaze, still unaware of the storm brewing within him.

The next day, Ben noticed the lingering touches and exchanged glances. He felt the urge to intervene, to remind Shanks of the boundaries. But deep down, he understood the allure of your innocence—the way it made everyone around you feel alive, almost compelled to keep you close.

“Let’s go on an adventure today!” you suggested, breaking the tension.

“Count me in,” Ben replied, masking his unease with a smile. Shanks nodded, but a flicker of possessiveness gleamed in his eye. He wouldn’t let anyone take you away from him.

As you laughed and played with your brother and the crew, you remained blissfully unaware of the intertwining shadows of yandere love that surrounded you. The Red-Haired Pirates had claimed you as their treasure, and they would go to any lengths to protect you, even if it meant shielding you from the very truths of the world that would shatter your innocence.

In the embrace of their twisted affection, you danced on the edge of a dangerous precipice, blissfully ignorant of the love that could turn to obsession at a moment's notice. And so, the sweet story of your life with the yandere Shanks and Ben continued, a delicate balance of joy and darkness that only time would reveal.

A/N: I didn't particularly like this piece but i still posted it.

Umm i hope you enjoy reading it @wereallmadhere666

Masterlist

Stay Safe, Healthy and Hydrated

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober- Day 2 - Public Humiliation

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : here is the post for the second day of Kinktober 👀. The prompt is Public Humiliation. I honestly couldn’t picture Em being into public humiliation but hey maybe I’m wrong so I decided to write about him giving it a try… for the sake of his kinky girlfriend 🙊

CW : Public humiliation - Dirty Talk - Embarrassment - Fingering - Fluff

You were almost embarrassed when you had approached Marshall, weeks ago. You’d been together for a little while and everything was going great, but confessing kinks didn’t come too easily to you, even though you trusted him. When you told him you had a thing for public humiliation, he was taken aback at first, almost hesitant. He didn’t judge you, but it wasn’t in his nature to be cruel. Sure, he’d been mean to partners in the past, cruel, even, but he was a changed man. Plus, he absolutely adored you, so being mean to you did not make any sense. He had always treated you like royalty and he hated the idea of belittling you, even if you asked for it. However, you assured him it was something you wanted, that made you feel alive I ways you could not quite explain. You’d tried to put words on it, explaining that there was something intimate, that it was all about trust and that he was, in fact, the person you trusted the most. He didn’t necessarily get it, but after some careful consideration, he agreed to give it a try, during a dinner party he hosted at his place. For obvious reasons, he could not indulge you in a very public setting, in a room full of strangers that might record the thing or talk to the press. So the safest bet was to do it in private, at his place, with people he knew and was comfortable around. You had both agreed to keep it light, but the perspective was enough for you to find it titillating. 

You knew everyone that would be present, just a few of his friends for a casual dinner party. You got along with everyone and you happily spent the day in the kitchen. You weren’t a chef but you enjoyed cooking and knowing your amazing boyfriend had agreed to indulge your kink definitely put you in a good mood. The table was set, and their guests were mingling, sipping drinks and chatting casually as Marshall sat at the head of the table, watching you move around the kitchen, plating the final dish. His heart pounded, knowing what was coming. You had agreed on what would happen and you had done everything you could to make him as comfortable as possible, even agreeing on some safe word and signal if either one of you found things to be overwhelming at some point. You both trusted each other, and he knew he could pull back at any point. He was a little stressed out, though. He’d been an asshole to partners before, sometimes even in public. Back then, drug addiction helping, he hadn’t cared too much about the consequences. But you were his queen, he revered you like some sort of deity and he was apprehensive at the thought of hurting you, breaking something about the precious relationship you shared. Also, as someone who had evolved, he was a little wary as to how people would perceive him. A decade and a half ago, he might not have cared, but now he did. He knew he would have to find some sort of balance : be enough of an asshole to titillate you, but stay on the safe side so that it wouldn’t embarrass his guests. Of course, it would have been easier in a room full of strangers he’d never have to see again, there wouldn’t have been so much at stake… But being one of the most famous rappers in the world made it virtually impossible. He couldn’t help but pick on the cruel irony that he was a public figure whose significant other had a kink for being humiliated in public. He wasn’t particularly kinky but it would probably have been easier for him to indulge you if you’d had a thing for golden showers or anything that could be done in private. As for you, you seemed blissfully unaware of what was going on in his brain, humming as you brought the dish on the table. 

Dinner began, and everything seemed normal at first. He waited for the right moment, feeling his stomach twist as he prepared for what he was about to do. « Everything alright with the cooking, babe ? », he asked. You smiled at him, your good mood apparent « All good, I think. You tell me. », you replied softly. He took a bite and looked at you, something sharp in his eyes. « You know, I would have thought but impossible to mess a dish as simple as this but… You managed, I guess. Maybe it’s a talent. », he said. A few of his friends laughed awkwardly, unsure if he was serious. After all, they were used to his dry humor. You met his gaze from across the table, your eyes shining, a glint of excitement hidden behind the feigned hurt in your expression. « Oh. I’m sorry. I did my best… », you said softly as you refrained yourself from smiling too much. « I’m sure », he shot back. « Maybe next time I’ll hire a cook. Someone who knows what they’re doing. ». 

The tension in the room thickened. You could see a couple of people share nervous glances, but Marshall didn’t stop. He knew this was what you wanted. You had asked for it, almost begged him for it in the privacy of his bedroom, but now, with all eyes on him, it felt very real. Almost too real. Yet, he continued. « Speaking of knowing what you’re doing… How’s that pet project going on for you ? », he asked with disdain. « You mean my new job ? », you asked innocently.  « Whatever you want to call it, I guess. Though an actual job would… you know… pay actual money », he shrugged. « Well, I just started doing freelance so… I’m still… um, working on it », you said as your voice got lower. The whole thing was demeaning and embarrassing. The way he looked at you with contempt, the tone he used, the way his words stung, the look on people’s faces… It was embarrassing. Humiliating. And you absolutely loved it. Marshall could see it by the way you gripped your cutlery and the flush on your face, which the guests probably mistook for embarrassment. « Right. ‘Working on it’. Though I hope you mean you’re working harder than when you’re ‘working’ in the gym. Like, if you’re going to talk about it so much, you should at least show some results. »  

The silence in the room was deafening now. Marshall’s heart raced. He hated every word coming out of his mouth, but your eyes told him to keep going. « You’re lucky you’re pretty. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have a lot going on for you. », he added. Some people in the room looked absolutely mortified. As for you, you were looking down, face flushed with humiliation and something else - something only Marshall knew about. You were sitting in your chair, staring at him, feeling soaking wet. He was good at it. So good. The way he belittled you, demeaned you… It did things to you. It was even better than what you had anticipated.  As the dinner went on, he made a few more biting remarks, cutting into your cooking, your career aspirations, and even your body in ways that made his skin crawl. You played your part perfectly, responding with a mix of hurt and feigned disappointment, but every so often, you’d give him that look—the one that reassured him you were enjoying every second of it. Finally, as the evening came to an end and the guests filed out, offering awkward goodbyes and sideways glances, the house fell silent. The moment the door clicked shut, Marshall turned to you, his face pale with regret. « Babe, I- », he began but you cut him out by kissing him lovingly. « You were perfect », you said earnestly. « It was amazing ! ». He cupped your face and stared at you for a couple of seconds, his face full of disbelief. Eventually, he pulled you in for a warm hug. « I hated it », he said. « I don’t know how you- I don’t know », he sighed. You smiled and placed a kiss on his pec. « It was exactly what I wanted », you said. « Thank you ». 

He looked at you again, an undecipherable expression on his face. He didn’t get it. Some kinks, he could get the appeal, even though he wasn’t particularly interested. But this, this was beyond him. « You’re insane, do you know that ? », he asked with furrowed eyebrows. You let out a giggle before replying with a grin « I know ». He sighed and gently cupped your face. « I love you, Y/N », he said in a low voice. « But I don’t know if I can do that again. Being mean to you? It’s like... it’s the opposite of everything I feel about you ». You nodded with understanding before placing a soft kiss on his lips. « I know. That’s why it means so much that you did it for me tonight ». He hummed and kissed you again, not letting go. As if he wanted to make sure that you were ok, that the love you shared remained intact and wasn’t tainted by the events of the night. In truth, you felt the opposite. This brought you closer. The frown on his face started to worry you, though. You’d had a great time and you were more than grateful that he indulged you, but you didn’t want it to be an awful experience for him. « Are you upset ? », you asked carefully. « No, I- I just don’t get it, you know ? I don’t get how you can be into… that ». You smiled and tilted your head, amusement playing on your lips. « Into what ? ». He sighed and gestured vaguely. « This. This whole humiliation thing. I just spent the entire dinner ripping you apart in front of everyone, saying things I don’t even believe, and you were just sitting there—loving it. ». Your smile grew wider, a twinkle of excitement visible in your eyes. « Oh, I was more than loving it », you said. Marshall shook his head, torn between disbelief and something deeper—something that, despite everything, made him want to understand you. « What’s wrong with you? » he asked, half-joking, half-serious. « You’ve got this... kink for being humiliated. You like being talked down to, like I’m supposed to just tear into you and you’re gonna walk away with a smile on your face? That’s messed up. ». Your eyes flickered with that unmistakable glint—the one you got when he pushed your buttons just right. You bit your lip, enjoying the way his frustration was manifesting, the way his words stung but also ignited something within you. « Maybe it’s what I need. Maybe I like being messed up. Maybe I like it when you’re mean to me. Maybe it turns me on to have you rip into me and make me feel small. ». The excitement was palpable in your voice. It was sultry, full of lust. Marshall stared at you, his jaw tightening as he tried to reconcile the conflict brewing inside him. « ou really want me to make you feel worthless? You really want me to tear you apart like that? » he asked. 

« Yes », you whispered, your voice low. « I want you to tear me apart. I want you to call me pathetic, to tell me I’m not good enough. I want you to say all those things because it’s you saying them, and I know you don’t mean it. ». He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of what you were saying. « So, what—you want me to sit here and tell you how messed up you are? You want me to go off on how crazy it is that my girlfriend has a kink for being humiliated? ». The edge in his voice had returned, and you could feel the energy between you shift. You nodded, your heart racing as his words cut deeper, but it wasn’t the hurt you craved—it was the rawness, the vulnerability that came with it. « Yeah » you breathed as you felt your pulse quickening. « I want you to tell me just how weird I am. How messed up it is that I get off on you being cruel to me. Tell me everything you think but are too afraid to say ». Your boyfriend’s jaw clenched as he stared at you, the conflict swirling inside him like a storm. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous tone. « You want me to say it? Fine. ». His words were sharp now, cutting like the verses he spit on stage, but this time, there was no crowd, no mic—just the two of you, locked in a twisted, shared understanding. « You’re twisted » he hissed as his eyes locked on to you. « You get off on this? On being told you’re not good enough? On me making you feel small in front of everyone? That’s messed up. Who even thinks like that? ». Your breath caught in your throat as he continued, his words hitting you like a drug. « You love it, don’t you? » he continued, his voice gaining momentum. « ou love it when I point out all your flaws, like how you can never seem to finish anything you start, or how you act all confident, but deep down, you’re just looking for someone to knock you down a peg. ». 

You shivered under his words, your pulse racing as his insults landed perfectly, pushing all the right buttons. You could barely hold back the way her body responded, your lips parting in anticipation for more, your nipples hardening, goosebumps appearing on your skin. And the wetness in your panties, it was criminal. « And the cooking? » he continued, his voice still laced with venom, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something softer, something only you would catch. « You think making a dinner for a few friends means anything when half the time, you barely know what you’re doing in the kitchen? That’s what you’re proud of? Please. ». Your skin flushed, and you felt a warmth spread through your body as he kept going. You knew this wasn’t easy for him—that it was taking everything in him to keep up the facade. But that’s what made it so perfect. « You’re insane, » he muttered, his voice growing quieter, though no less intense. « You’re absolutely insane for liking this. You know that, right? It’s messed up that you want this from me. » And then, as if to punctuate the moment, he stepped even closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear as he whispered, « But you love it, don’t you? ».  A shudder ran through you as his words hung in the air, your chest heaving with the intensity of what had just transpired. You looked up at him, eyes shining with everything you felt but couldn’t put into words. « I love it, » you whispered back, your voice trembling but sure. « I love it because it’s you. ». 

Marshall's thumb lingered on your cheek as his breathing slowed, the intensity between you still thick in the air. He stared into your eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability, the excitement, the love you had for him—despite everything he had just said. There was no question now; you were thriving in the energy you had created. But now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to close the gap between you. Your lips parted slightly as you leaned closer, your eyes flicking to his mouth. The anticipation hung between you like a live wire, and Marshall couldn't hold back anymore. He lowered his face to your, his lips capturing yours in a sudden, desperate kiss. It started slow, tentative, as if he was afraid you might still be hurt by what he'd said earlier, but you responded immediately. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a hunger that matched his own. He could feel your body pressing into him, the heat of the shared tension spilling over into something else entirely—something you both needed. Marshall's hands slid down your back, pulling you even tighter against him as the kisses grew more heated, more frantic. He felt the familiar rush, the way your lips moved against his, soft but demanding. Every ounce of guilt he had felt moments earlier dissolved as you kissed him back, as if you were trying to tell him with every touch that this was exactly what you wanted, that he was exactly what you needed. You couldn’t help but moan softly into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, and it drove him wild. He kissed you harder, his lips moving with more urgency now, tasting the sweetness of your desire, the intensity of everything that had built up tonight. Your body responded to every movement, pressing against him, and he could feel your heart racing in time with his own. Marshall pulled away for just a second, breathless, his forehead resting against your. « You’re crazy, you know that? » he muttered, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.,You grinned, breath ragged as you pulled him back into another kiss. « I know, » you whispered against his mouth before your lips met again, the heat undeniable. He pushed you against the nearest wall as you kept on making out, one of his hands wasting no time going under your dress to go and check If what he suspected was true. As soon as his had cupped your pussy over the lacy fabric of your underwear, he knew he was right. You weren’t wet. You were absolutely soaked, almost dripping. He looked at you, his stare a mix of shock and lust. « Fucking twisted », he muttered before resuming the kissing. You hummed into the kiss, his hands on you driving you absolutely wild. He pushed your panties aside, inserting a finger, immediately earning a moan. « Look at you. All wet because I’m telling you the truth - how fucking deranged you are. It’s pitiful ». You whimpered and he added as second finger, immediately starting to thrust. As his hand worked his magic between your legs, he kept on whispering in your ear, choosing the right words to drive you crazy. You looked at him with pleading eyes, praying that he’d keep going. You had never been so turned on, ever, ad he could tell. He spent the night using it to his advantage, taking you for round after round. As twisted as the whole thing was, he get off on seeing you get off, and the orgasmic bliss made the whole agony of the dinner absolutely worth it. 

The next day, you woke up to the sound of Marshall walking into the room, placing a tray on the bed. « Good morning princess » he said lovingly. You’d had a good sleep and the memories of the night had you smiling from ear to ear. « Morning my love » you cooed. « I thought you’d enjoy breakfast in bed », he said softly. « There’s pancakes, coffee, juice, and I even had croissants delivered, from that bakery you like ». You gave him a smile full of gratitude and kissed him lovingly as he sat next to you. « You’re the best », you said. « Anything for you, love », he replied earnestly before kissing your temple. « So, this is what? You’re going to give me the royal treatment because you called me out on my cooking? » you giggled. « Exactly, » he said, his face serious, as if he had rehearsed the whole thing. « I need to make sure you know you’re my everything. I don’t care if you loved the whole humiliation thing—I’m still gonna treat you like you deserve. ». The sincerity in his voice was almost too much. You loved him for it, even if it made you laugh. « Marsh, » you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck, « I don’t think you understand. I really enjoyed it. You don’t have to keep doing all of this ». « Yeah, but I want to, » he cut in, leaning down to kiss your forehead. « I don’t care if you liked it. I’m not letting you think that’s who I really am, though. I don’t ever want you to feel less than amazing. ». You let out a soft laugh, your heart swelling with affection for this man. He could be stubborn as hell, but that was one of the reasons you loved him so much. Even when you were perfectly fine with the way things were, he went out of his way to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him. « Fine, » you said, still smiling. “If you insist on treating me like a princess, I guess I’ll just have to enjoy it.” He grinned. « Good. Because I’m not stopping. »

[anonymityisfunwriter]

it will come back.

"i warn you, baby, each night, as sure as you're born, you'll hear me howling at your door..." - hozier, it will come back

pairing: yandere!bucky barnes x reader c.w.: dark!bucky (he definitely does some questionable things, but nothing graphic)

a.n. - it's official, i've become addicted to lower case fics. they're just so much fun. they've got a vibe, you know? anyway, this is my first attempt at a darker bucky, so i hope you enjoy!

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

this is your fault. it’s all your fault.

you know better, or at least, you should have known better.

what else could you expect from a man like him? a man robbed of his humanity for so long. a man so close to ferality. that's who he is in all matters of you, a man more beast than human, no better than an animal when it came to you.

that’s how you should’ve treated him. as a beast. prowling back and forth in their confinement. poised to devour any unlucky soul that got too close. so long as he was caged, you were safe.

you didn’t though. you didn’t treat him like the beast he became the moment he saw you.

maybe in another life, he could've loved you in a normal, sane way. in another life, he could give you the sweetness you deserved. in a life where he wasn't so twisted and tormented, he would have done just that. the flowers. the chocolates. the romance.

but this is love, he tells himself.

this raw, deranged, twisted, obsession.

this is his love.

he loves you.

he swears he does.

in this life, this is the only way he can show you just how much he loves you. just how far he's wiling to go to love you.

something happened to him the moment he set his sights on you. perhaps something broke. perhaps something mended. but maybe this was always who he'd been. all he knows is that heaven is not fit to house the love he has for you.

it didn't matter. the moment he set his sights upon you, you were doomed.

he wanted to scream, to bellow a warning to stay as far away from him as possible.

he stayed silent during that first meeting. his jaw tense, spine straight as an arrow, fists clenched so tight he was sure there would be indents in the metal of his vibranium palm.

"it was nice to meet you, sergeant barnes." you made a point to place yourself in his line of sight, forcing him to look at you in those bright, wide eyes. "i look forward to working with you."

that was your first mistake. he had the strength to stay away. to resist the feeling creeping up his spine. but you just kept rattling his cage. calling out to him with your siren song.

"bucky," you rest your hand on his shoulder. you're trying to soothe him. you don't realize it's a kindness neither you nor him could afford. "it's alright."

he stiffens, that's the first time you've ever touched him. it's the first time he's ever heard his name fall from your lips. not sergeant, not sir, but his name.

his chest heaves, rising and falling as he tries to control himself. you think it's just the adrenaline of the mission. you don't have any idea how overwhelmed he is by your presence.

it's your own kindness that was your undoing, that was his unraveling. years of discipline, years of training, years of strength gone with a touch.

if he didn't love you so much, he'd hate you.

from that moment on, it all spiraled. he spiraled.

he wasn't a patient man, not by any stretch of the imagination. but for you, he'd wait. for you, he'd bide his time.

first, he watches. he watches and look for ways to insert himself into your life. it was almost too easy. for a shield agent, you were careless. doors unlocked. blissfully unaware of your surroundings on long, morning runs. you barely realized how he'd slithered his way onto your missions.

it helped you were vying for his approval, for his adoration. you didn't know that you had it from the moment he saw you. he started slow. inserting himself into your daily routine. a simple good morning. a good night. passing by you in the corridor, always offering a quick grin. he listened to you. to your ideas. your wants. your little anecdotes.

soon, you were close enough to invite him into your apartment. if only you knew that he'd seen it before.

"bucky, we're friends, right?"

he gritted his teeth. friends. no. you weren't friends. you were the love of his life. you were everything he had ever wanted, everything he would ever want. you were the center of his universe. he couldn't tell you that. not yet. "yeah. why do you ask?"

"i just wanted your opinion on this guy."

"a guy?" his voice is so clipped, so gruff, he's shocked you can't hear his teeth grinding together. his fists clench. can't you feel the rage rolling off of him?

"yeah, this agent," you sigh. "he keeps asking me out. i keep trying to let him down easy, but he's not taking the hint."

"oh."

your eyebrows furrow. he almost smiles to himself. you're so aware of him, of what he does or doesn't do. you're worried you upset him. you're worried you shouldn't have told him. he likes that you're this concerned about what he thinks. "should i - i'm sorry i shouldn't have said that to you."

he places his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. "no, i'm glad you told me."

it was too easy for him to swipe your phone when you weren't looking. too easy for him to find out which agent dared to try to take you from him.

and it was even easier to get the agent paired with bucky on a field mission. just the two of them. overseas in an unfamiliar country. there were just so many things that could go wrong.

he was respected in the avenger's compound. and in this moment, he's glad he put in the work to earn that respect. he didn't think they'd respect him so much if they knew how easy it was for him to sabotage that agent. he couldn't kill the guy, but if a gun shot to the leg wasn't enough of a warning, there were other ways to get him off your back.

all of this was your fault. you opened the cage, whether you knew it or not. you pushed him to this. you showed him the warmth of your doorways.

you could've left him alone. left him to the land. left him to the cold that he knows from the depth of his bones. you should never have let him taste your warmth. you shouldn't have uttered a single word to him, not when he's sat in silence for so long, not when the sound of your honey sweet voice in enough to feed his hungry soul.

you can't show warmth to someone stone cold.

you can't feed someone starved for decades.

you can't show mercy to someone used to the harsh, unyielding world.

you should never have let him in unless you planned on keeping him.

or he'll come back.

"bucky," you pant, running to bucky's room after hearing about his disastrous mission. "i heard - i heard things went wrong on that mission. i thought you were -"

"i'm okay. don't worry." he tries to bite back the smile at the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. you were worried about him.

your words come out in short bursts. "i just - the guy - he's the one i told you about - i heard he was shot - and - and that you were on the mission with him-"

"that was the guy who wouldn't leave you alone?" there's an intentional lilt to his voice. of course he knew. but he didn't want to give away just how much he knew. you weren't ready for that. "he's okay, if that's what you're worried about."

"i was worried about you." your eyes lift to his, shining with tears, with admiration. you were so close to putting the final nail in your coffin. "i was so worried about you."

he should tell you to run. the lion should never live with the lamb. if only you'd left him to the land.

"i'm okay. i promise."

run, he silently warns you.

run.

run.

"i just- " your frantic eyes find his again. you don't say another word. you lunge forward, planting your warm hand on the side of his face. your lips meet his in a frenzy.

too late.

it was far, far too late. it was too easy for him to become addicted to your presence. how easy you are for him to need. how easy you are for him to crave.

he'll always come back for more. he'll never be satisfied. he lived deprived for so long.

you should've know the reason they locked him away and threw away the key. he's a greedy beast.

and he's decided, he can't live with a taste. not anymore.

"i just want to talk to you," the agent pleads with you. he follows you down the hallway, still limping on his leg after that gun shot. "just hear me out."

"look," you sigh, stopping for a moment out of pity. "i'm sorry you got hurt, but i've already told you, i'm not interested."

"you're not interested in me, but you're interested in the maniac that had me shot?"

your eyes widen at the accusation. "you're lying. and don't - don't talk about bucky like that."

"i just thought you should know what kind of man you're falling into bed with."

"you're just jealous." you're about to turn on your heels when he grips your bicep forcing you back around. he squeezes tightly, forcing you to stay in place. you look down at the white knuckled grip, "you're hurting me."

"he told me that i should be more careful next time. that next time it wouldn't be in the leg. you should ask him about it."

you wrench your arm from his hold. "stay away the hell from me."

you felt guilty about your reaction. even guiltier when he turned up dead just days later. the details of that assignment were so fuzzy. even an entire investigation turned up nothing.

"i can't believe he's gone," you softly cry into bucky's shoulder. "we were friends for so long, you know?"

"i'm so sorry, that can't be easy for you," bucky coos at you.

"i don't what happened. he was acting so strange the last few months and then we got into that fight. i said terrible things to him."

"you got into a fight?"

"he said some things. about you. about us."

"about me?"

"yeah." you nod, tears still stinging your eyes, but offering no other details of that argument. you didn't want to upset bucky with those strange accusations. "these last few months, he was like a different person. he wasn't the friend i knew. i'm sorry, i know i'm rambling at you. i just - i don't know how to feel."

"you don't have to be sorry," bucky promises, he strokes your back up and down, following the curve of your spine. "i understand."

"thank you." you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. "you're being so sweet to me."

"i would do anything for you."

you're not sure what it is. the inflection of his voice. the way the words fall from his lips without pause. or the intensity with which they ring in your ears. you freeze, peeling yourself out of his embrace. your heart hammers against your chest, the blood pumping faster and faster.

you look up and, for the first time, you get a glimpse of it. those blue eyes are almost unrecognizable. that vibrant blue is gone, replaced by something much darker. almost lupine. feral.

it was the first time you ever flinched away from him. you stumbled back, afraid of him.

if you didn't know better then, you certainly did now.

but it's too late for you. he's supposed to unlearn the warmth of your skin, the taste of your lips? he's supposed to let you go? just like that?

no. not a chance in hell.

he doesn't know why you can't see it. can't you see that blood that stained his hand was for you? that agent will never lay another hand on you. you'll never wince under his grip again. he'll never plant seeds of doubt in your head ever again. you're safe. here. in his arms.

you sent him away that night. but he doesn't care. it doesn't matter. he'll always find his way back to you.

he'll always come back.

can’t you hear him just outside your door?

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

a.n. this is my first attempt at writing a yandere fic, so let me know what you think! reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[lueurjun]

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽.

⋮ — 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗒!𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾 : the both of you are extreme sappy simps that just can’t get enough of each other.

one thing is for certain: heeseung didn’t ask you out. a younger boy he hangs out with named riki did

if we’re getting into specifics, heeseung had been crushing on you for well over two years and he managed to keep it tight lipped

well, if you could call everyone knowing but you tight lipped

it was a known fact between all of your peers that heeseung was crushing on you — but for some reason, you didn’t realize

now i’m not calling you dumb but for the sake of the plot, you’re dumb

you had absolutely no idea that heeseung liked you

not even when he blurted it out to you during gym class six months ago

how? well you assumed he meant as a friend

the poor boy was crushed when you ushered out the words ‘i like you too! you’re such a good friend’

like i said dumb but it’s okay heeseung is too, perfect match if you ask me

anyways heeseung wanted the ground to swallow him whole whilst the rest of the class just stared at him in pity

it was really embarrassing, jay had to leave the class for a few minutes to recover

whereas you didn’t see anything wrong with the interaction and went back to what you was doing blissfully unaware of the turmoil you just caused

anyway fast forward to a week later and niki is fed up

all the poor boy wanted to do was play basketball with his hyung but he couldn’t and you wanna know why he couldn’t?

because heeseung wouldn’t stop whining about you

so he took it into his own hands

imagine the absolute horror heeseung faced when niki showed him the text he had sent you off of heeseung’s phone

i’m in love with you. pls date me

“you make me sound desperate!”

“you are desperate.”

heeseung felt like he was going to vomit when your name flashed up on his phone screen indicating that you were calling him

he tried to ignore it

niki answered it and threw it at him

“absolutely not—no. niki—heyyy y/n… what’s up? sun is lovely, very warm!”

“it’s 9pm heeseung.”

much to heeseung’s joy

and niki’s relief

you didn’t brutally reject him like they both had been expecting

in fact, you asked him out on a date

“you—me?—us?”

niki had to yank the phone from him and agree to it for him before he passed out

fast forward to now and the two of you have been together for almost six months

you’re both as sickeningly disgusting as each other

you insist on wearing matching jewellery

jay wanted to gauge his own eyeballs out when he saw the matching necklaces

“you’re both gross. i hate it. break up.”

“don’t hate us because you aren’t in love like us.”

even after six months heeseung can’t believe that you’re his.

like the idea is insane to him.

“are you okay?”

“pardon?”

“like why me? are you like alright? you’re too perfect for me. i don’t deserve you.”

that usually calls for a lot of kisses assuring him that he’s more than deserving of you

and you’ll fight anyone — including him — who says otherwise

being so popular, you tend to get quite a lot of attention which can lead to a little bit of jealousy on his part

but you always know when he is feeling a little threatened

“why are you pouting like that?”

he’s not even looking at you, hands pressed firmly to your waist with his gaze over your head

admittedly, he looks hot and you can’t stop yourself from pressing a kiss to his chin which seems to pull him from his angry state and back to your fluffy, shy boyfriend

his ears go bright red

“did you say something?”

“i love you so much”

thee confession strides of off your tongue with ease, and the trail it leaves tastes sweet

and then heeseung grins.

“i love you more.”

[darkfluffydragon]

Cookie Run AU Ideas #8: Timeless Kingdom

what if Pure Vanilla Cookie, instead of being amnesiac outside with Black Raisin, was instead trapped in the Vanilla Castle time loop? But because of the Light of Truth, he's aware of it? he's been stuck there for...hundreds of years, watching his people die over and over again nothing ever changes no matter what he does and then finally, Gingerbrave shows up. I mean, PV may be nice but there are only so many times he can hear the same monologue before he gets reaaaally sick of it gonna join GC on the hate train and he physically isn't able to do anything "out of script". Every time he tries, he sort of 'loses control of his body', since it's a memory time loop you can't just change a memory and since he's a part of it, it'll force him to go along with it. To play his role. Gingerbrave and his friends probably wouldn't even realise he's not a memory at first, that the Pure Vanilla is the real one.

And an extra I wrote for the AU >:3

Pure Vanilla Cookie awoke with a start, his eyes snapping open to the familiar sight of his bed’s golden canopy. His head throbbed, and his mind felt muddled, a fog of pain and confusion clouding his thoughts. He struggled to sit up, the effort sending sharp jolts of agony through his body. As he gathered his bearings, fragments of memories began to resurface—the battle against Dark Enchantress Cookie, the ruins of his castle, and the faces of his friends, Golden Cheese Cookie, Dark Cacao Cookie, Hollyberry Cookie, and White Lily Cookie.

They had arrived to aid him, late, their expressions grim and determined. By then, he had already spent hours running through the chaos, trying desperately to heal his people. But no matter how hard he tried, the cake monsters kept coming, relentless and unyielding. He remembered the wounds they all bore. The exhaustion that clung to their bones as they fought to protect their home, their kingdom. With his magic reserves depleted, there had been a point where he had started reaching into the depths of his being, drawing upon his very essence—his life powder and soul to fuel his spells.

He remembered the final confrontation against her, he had used Dark Moon Magic, a power he had sworn never to touch. ~~The magic most natural to him.~~ The last time he had seen it wielded, it had led to the academy's destruction. But there had been no other choice. He had cast the banishment spell, lifting himself into the air as Dark Enchantress Cookie tore their Souljams, their very souls, from them. The explosion had ripped through the kingdom, the pain blinding and all-consuming. And then, nothing.

Now, here he was, awake once more. Why? How? As these questions swirled in his mind, he felt a strange sensation, as if invisible strings were tugging at his limbs. Panic surged through him as he realised he was moving against his will, his body tracing the exact path of his memories. He tried to speak, to cry out, but no sound escaped his lips.

“No! Run! Dark Enchantress is coming! Evacuate the cookies!” he screamed, his voice hoarse with desperation. But the words seemed to dissipate into the air, unheard and unheeded. The cookies outside moved about their routines, oblivious to the impending doom. Children played in the streets, vendors hawking their wares, and guards patrolled, all blissfully unaware of the threat looming over them.

The nightmare would unfold before him with horrifying clarity. His friends—the heroes—were nowhere to be seen. Instead, dark silhouettes had taken their place, shadowy figures that seemed to mock his efforts. Was it because of the Souljams? Could this memory not replicate them because of the artefacts which housed their power? 

The endless battle raged around him, the air thick with the stench of smoke and the cries of the wounded. Cake monsters swarmed the castle, their grotesque forms looming over the terrified cookies. Pure Vanilla’s attempts to heal his people felt like trying to stop a flood with a sieve. Every spell he cast seemed to evaporate into nothingness, swallowed by the overwhelming darkness.

The invisible strings tightened around him. It constricted his movements, squeezing his mind. His autonomy slipped further away with each passing moment. The fog in his mind grew denser, suffocating his thoughts.

He felt every wound, every drop of jam that spilled, every life that was lost. He could see the faces of his people contorted in terror and agony, and hear their screams echoing in his mind. His friends fought, their forms blurred by exhaustion and jam. Yet no matter how hard they fought, the cake monsters kept coming, an endless tide of destruction.

The sky would fill with magic circles, blue eyes of the runes staring down at the target as he used magic that he swore to never use, for the second time. He would see her malevolent grin, and feel the agony of the explosion that followed. 

And then, he was back in his bed, the cycle beginning anew. The loops continued, over and over, each one more harrowing than the last. As time stretched into eternity, Pure Vanilla Cookie felt his thoughts growing quieter. Centuries seemed to pass, each loop eroding a bit more of his will. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, and soon, he feared, he would no longer be able to think. In the moments of silence, his mind would turn to White Lily Cookie, the one he had loved so deeply. She had become Dark Enchantress Cookie, the architect of his suffering and the destroyer of his kingdom. Yet, despite everything, he still loved her.

The pain of that love was like rose thorns digging into his heart, a constant, aching reminder of what once was. He had loved her so dearly, had kept her transformation a secret from their friends, hoping against hope that she could be redeemed. But now, as he watched his beloved kingdom and its innocent people crumble time and time again, the anguish was almost too much to bear.

To love White Lily Cookie was to love a rose. To love her was to let the rose crawl up him, letting its hurtful thorns dig into his fragile dough. His jam would paint the delicate petals red, and once gone, wounds and scars would be left to taunt him of his foolish desire.

She had been gifted a bouquet of hearts, yet the only one his moon had taken was his own. She dangled the prize in front of him like a carrot on a stick, and he ran the race despite being the only competitor. She blindfolded him of the fact, and let Pure Vanilla run himself ragged until he could give no more. Then, she left. Left with everything that was Pure Vanilla, left him empty and hurting. Trapped. Left in all her gentle and loving glory, as her beautiful soul was tainted and twisted into the monster that had taken her place.

He did not care for the traitorous thoughts wondering if he was feeling the wrong feelings and thinking the wrong thoughts. He could not care, for he loved her nonetheless. Loved her poisonous, uncompleted promises. Loved her for the nights of waiting by the academy garden, gazing up at the sky, at clouds that would never part to allow him a glimpse of her smile. Loved her for the incomplete dances she swore she would return for, leaving him alone and abandoned in an empty ballroom. He loved her unconditionally. And for this, White Lily Cookie had become his greatest torment.

Each encounter felt like a knife twisting deeper into his heart. The sight of Dark Enchantress Cookie, her once gentle eyes now filled with malice, was a reminder of everything he had lost. She had been his moon, his guiding light, and he had loved her with a purity that he had thought unbreakable. But the darkness that had taken her was relentless, and it had shattered her, and him, beyond repair.

The White Lily Cookie he loved was gone, replaced by the Dark Enchantress Cookie who revelled in his suffering. She was the creator of his endless torment, the reason his kingdom lay in ruins, and his people were lost

What a fool he was.

Pure Vanilla Cookie, awoke in a bed not his own. His limbs were not strung by strings that cut into his dough, and his thoughts were…loud. Clarity such as this was so incredibly rare.

He took in the room, noting how the other cookies, the ones who had…saved him, were still asleep. Quietly, he slipped out of the room, his steps soft and deliberate, as if any sound might shatter this fragile moment of peace. The hallway was dimly lit, shadows playing along the walls. He moved with purpose, though his heart was heavy with the familiar ache of his memories.

Reaching the garden, he paused for a moment at the entrance, breathing in the cool night air. The scent of flowers and earth was a reminder of simpler times. He walked towards the patch of lily flowers, their white petals glowing softly under the moonlight. 

Sitting down among the lilies, he stared up at the moon, its pale light casting a gentle glow over the garden. The tranquillity of the night wrapped around him, and for a brief moment, he felt the weight of his sorrow lift.

His thoughts turned, as they always did, to White Lily Cookie. The moon reminded him of her—bright, beautiful, yet distant and untouchable. He remembered their nights in the academy garden, the way she would laugh and talk about the future with such hope. Those memories were bittersweet now, coloured by the centuries of pain.

The garden was silent except for the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Pure Vanilla Cookie closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. He could almost hear her voice, see her smile. But then the image would shift, and he would see her as she was now—cold, dark, and filled with a malice that seemed impossible for someone who had once been so kind. He hated that he loved White Lily, a love that had once been pure and untainted. But he loathed Dark Enchantress to the point it hurt.

As the night wore on, Pure Vanilla sat alone. Though he could pretend that he was not, that there was another by his side. Perhaps…even four, all five of them together, underneath the starlit sky with the scent of campfire smoke in the air.  He did not know how long this clarity would last, how long before he would be pulled back into the muddy thoughts and fog. But for now, he rested in the peace of the garden, and the bittersweet memories of the one he loved.

Under the moonlight, surrounded by the lilies, he allowed himself to simply be. To remember, to grieve, and to love, even if it was only for a brief, stolen moment.

[milykins]

One More Night

I felt inspired by @justalotoffanfiction who wrote a Bayverse Raph story based on Mr. Brightside, so I thought I'd try my hand writing something based on a different song, One More Night by Maroon 5.

TW: Angst, Abuse toward Raph, verbal and physical, swearing and mentions of sex.

*Aged up characters

*Bayverse Raph × Reader

*HEA ending guaranteed

Special thanks to @avery73 for beta-reading!

Even the strongest of us can fall victim to this type of treatment. Raphael was no exception.

SLAP!

The sound reverberated off of the paper-thin walls in the tiny apartment. She was hitting him again. She was always angry at him for some reason. Why the hell was he here again? Oh, yeah, because she wanted to fuck him. This was always the reason.

He got a little bit of satisfaction seeing her shake her hand after slapping him, though it did nothing to quell her seemingly burning hatred toward him. If anything, she looked more enraged that his skin was so tough.

“You ASSHOLE! You think you can come and go as you please?! I’ve been waiting for you for hours!” She was screaming at him because his patrol had gone longer than it normally would, and she did not like to be kept waiting.

He knew this, and he should care, but he didn't. This… ‘thing’ they’d had going on had been well-established for months, but any time something went awry or didn’t go according to plan, she exploded. It’s not like she could really hurt him… slapping, hitting, throwing things at him. It didn’t really matter. That’s what he tried to tell himself, to make excuses for her behaviour because, on the other hand, being with her had resulted in some of the hottest sex imaginable. That’s why he kept coming back. That’s why they both kept coming back.

It still made him angry though. Fucking bitch.

“FUCKING FINE! I’ll just fucking GO THEN.” He meant it and whirled around to leave.

“Don’t you take another step Raphael.” She snapped; her voice deadly low. “Get the hell over here.”

He should leave. He should shut this down right now and never come here again. They both knew that this wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t stop coming.

And she knew it.

Moments later he’d spanned the length of the room and had her pressed tightly against the wall, kissing her ravenously, his hand fisted in her hair. She was just as desperate, hands clawing at him, trying to remove his clothes, and throwing his weapons to the ground. As hot as that was, he’d never liked how she had no respect for them or cared about how dangerous they were. All she had cared about was getting what she wanted.

In the aftermath, he laid in her bed staring at the ceiling hating himself. She was deeply asleep beside him blissfully unaware of his conflicting feelings. She’d apologize of course in her moments of clarity, even promise that next time she’d be nicer, gentler. She never kept that promise.

Quietly, as only a ninja could, he dressed, retrieved his weapons, tucking them safely into his belt and left. He felt like such an idiot. He needed to stop fucking doing this. He knew his brothers and their father were worried about him but he shut down anytime anyone tried to ask him about it. The only one who had any idea of what was going on was Casey.

“Dude, she sounds fucking awful, why do you keep going there?”

“Cuz she’s hot and the sex is amazing.”

“No pussy is worth this, man. She’s slapping the shit out of you every time you go.”

“’s fine, it doesn’t really hurt me any.”

“Maybe not physically, but it ain’t great for your head.”

“I’m fine.”

They’d left it at that; but as time went on, he was slowly coming to the realization Casey was right. This wasn’t good for him but he kept going back. He needed to stop; he needed a reason to cut ties with her for good.

You ended up being that reason.

You’d been best friends throughout your teens and had lost touch after the two of you had met your respective partners. Your relationship had ended disastrously with him cheating on you with a ‘friend’ of yours. Immediately, you cut ties and burned those bridges with both of them. Now single, your thoughts had turned back to Raph. You wondered how he was doing and hoped he was happy. You wished the two of you could reconnect and catch up, but you were afraid he’d forgotten all about you.

It's funny how life works sometimes. One Saturday night, you heard glass breaking in the apartment below you. You had just moved in and had groaned when you realized there was probably a loud argumentative couple living below you now. Hearing more noise and muffled yelling prompted you to go to your balcony to see what was going on. You figured you could call the police if it got really bad and you were just a tiny bit nosy.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw and heard.

“You’re fucking crazy! I’m done. WE’RE FUCKING DONE! I ain’t never coming back here!” It was Raph, it was unmistakably his voice. You’d know it anywhere.

Craning your neck over the side of your balcony you looked far as you could and saw him. The poor guy looked like a wreck. There was red liquid and bits of broken glass all down his front. From what you could see, it appeared to be remnants of a glass of wine. You could assume that it had been hurled at him along with the entire bottle it looked like.

“Don’t you fucking walk out on me, Raphael! GET BACK HERE!” The woman who’d thrown those things was screaming at him but he wasn’t turning back.

It was only when you heard the screen door slam shut that you dared call out to him. “Raph?”

He heard you, how could he not? Seconds later, he was swinging himself up to your balcony, whispering your name in surprise and looking ashamed at his appearance. He hurriedly brushed any remaining pieces of glass to the floor. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I just moved here.” Unable to stop yourself, you reached to grab his arm but stopped when you saw him physically tense up. What had happened to him? He used to be so strong in your eyes, and now he looked afraid to have you touch him.

Slowly, as if you were approaching a scared animal, you gently pulled him inside. You couldn’t help but notice that he just looked so angry and… broken.

“Are you okay?” You knew your concern was valid since he was quiet a long moment before answering.

“…I’m fine.” He was lying to you, and he hated himself for doing that. He regretted it the moment those two words left his lips.

Sucking in a breath you gently grabbed those huge biceps of his and met his troubled gaze. God, you’d missed those piercing green eyes of his. “You’re not fine Raph… you’re covered in wine and…” You looked at his face, studying it more. “Does she… hit you?”

He turned away in shame as he tensed. “Doesn’t hurt none…”

You narrowed your gaze, your own anger rising up as you gave those arms a squeeze. “How often is she hitting you, Raph…?” Again, when he doesn’t answer right away your tone and your grip become harder. “How. Often?”

He spoke so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “A lot…” If he’s finally admitting it to someone, it should be you.

A lump was quickly forming in your throat as you realized what had been going on. What kind of relationship he’d been dealing with. Why he was so tense and unsure. How unhealthy it was and why you hadn’t heard from him in so long.

“Raph… that’s… abuse. She’s abusing you.” You whispered these words because it hurt you to say them any louder. You knew Raph would never lay a hand against a woman, but you never expected him to be on the receiving end of this kind of thing.

His first instinct was to argue against that. He bristled as he backed away out of your grasp, walls of defense shooting in place as he tried to deny it. That was ridiculous! Him being abused.

“No it ain’t! I’d know if I was… that’s fucking ridiculous!” He’d curled his hands into large fists, his shoulders hunched and slightly shaking with his denial.

You can feel him practically vibrating with humiliation and uncertainty. You say nothing more as you go to him and start gently rubbing his shell. You’d done this often for him when you both were younger. The action was soothing to him whenever he was angry and upset about something. When you finally felt him relax, you moved around to his front, hugging him tightly. A few tears slip down your cheeks, adding to the wine stains on his red hoodie. You felt absolutely broken for him.

“Please don’t say you’re fine Raph… not to me…” You attempted to swallow the lump and keep your tears at bay. “It’s okay… It’s okay to admit this is happening to you, and it’s okay to leave…” You choked out a sob. “It’s okay… to not be okay. I’m here for you.”

That was it. Finally, finally, the walls fall down as his arms came around you holding you so tight you could barely breathe. He’d been living a lie for so long, spent too many months with this appalling treatment, but seeing you, hearing that was all it took. The dam broke; he buried his face into your shoulder, shaking slightly as he finally allowed himself to break.

He was crying, you realized as he quietly sobbed, his own tears joining yours as you cried together. “It’s okay, big guy…” you choked out. “It’s gonna be okay…” You rubbed his shell as best you could, being an anchor for him in his time of need.

When he finally looked up, you could see his mask was damp, his expression vulnerable and unsure accompanied with shaky breaths. You suddenly had the urge to kiss him. Where had that come from? You two were just friends… right? Plus, this wasn’t the right time… he needed to get his head right and recover. You shook the thought away and took his hand, guiding him to your couch. “Take that off.” You softly ordered. “I’ll wash it.”

Too exhausted to fight or argue, he listened and removed both his red mask and hoodie. Gently, you took them and threw both items into your washing machine with laundry soap and oxyclean. Hopefully, that would be enough to remove the wine stains.

He relaxed into your couch and called for you. “C’mere.” The request was soft yet held a note of urgency. When you approached, he reached for you and pulled you onto his lap. “Jus’ wanna hold you,” he murmured, needing your comfort and closeness, something he’d been severely lacking in for a long time.

It was easy to melt into his embrace and wrap your arms around him in return. “I gotcha big guy…”

He held you quietly for a long time, just breathing in your scent and taking in your soft energy. This was the turning point, the sign he’d needed to make a permanent change in his life and cut that toxic woman out of his life. He hadn’t felt like he had the strength to do it previously, but with your support, now he did.

“Thank you… for bein’ here…”

“I’ll always be here for you Raph…”

True to his word, he’d made good on his decision to completely cut ties with her. There had been even more yelling and items being thrown at him, but he was done. Once he’d made up his mind, that was it. He was one hundred percent DONE. She didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell to come back from it.

You were there waiting for him when he told you the news and were so happy and relieved or him. His brothers, in turn, were also relieved with Mikey even calling to thank you for being there for his big brother.

He visited you regularly, now having a much better reason to go to that same apartment building. The two of you slowly reconnected and started making up for lost time. You were a crucial part of his recovery and ended up being a major element in his support system. The feelings you had toward him from that fateful night had only grown stronger, but you wouldn’t act on them. You couldn’t, not until he was fully healed.

Raph had been realizing how wrong he’d been to let you go and had vowed to make it up to you. It was little things at first, stopping by after patrols with pizza, sending you a random meme that he hoped would make you laugh, and bringing you your favourite latte in the mornings. He was slowly coming to terms with how much he had missed this and how much he had missed you. This is what a healthy relationship looked like, and he felt like a fool for not seeing it earlier.

It was a few months later that it had finally hit him over the head that what he’d needed and what he truly wanted had been right in front of him all along. He saw you, and when he’d nervously confessed his feelings, he’d been absolutely elated when you’d told him you felt the same way.

That first kiss you two shared had been the pinnacle of his journey to healing.

Afterwards, you’d held him close and whispered these words.

“No one will ever hurt you again.”

Because you would make sure of it.

The End

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus

@the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28

@definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs

[queenshelby]

The Accident (Part Three)

Pairing: Reader & Cillian Murphy

Warning: Accident, Child Birth, Abuse, Religious Themes

Thank you @blondie-22 for this amazing idea!

Sunlight draped lazily across the bedroom, its warmth mingling with the remnants of last night’s intimacy that he shared with his fiancee. The sex had always been good, which was initially something thatdrawn him to Naomi amidst the chaos of his life. Their relationship started out as a casual fling, a distraction from the weight of grief that clung to him like a shadow. From that came something more and now, after dating for almost two years, they were going to get married, whether he felt ready for it or not.

Cillian turned on his side, propping himself up on one elbow to watch Naomi as she scrolled through her phone, blissfully unaware of the way her fingers danced over the screen, drawing the world into her social media realm, which was her thing, as an influencer, but not his. He hated the constant need for validation. It felt empty, like a house built on sand.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice still husky from slumber.

Naomi glanced up, briefly meeting his gaze before turning back to her phone.

"Yes, you?" she mumbled, her attention still fixed on the screen. The bright sunlight illuminated her glossy hair, framing her face which wore the same model-perfect expression she flaunted in her posts.

"Yeah," he simply responded before asking, "what time is it?" he murmured, voice still gruff with sleep.

Naomi shrugged, eyes flicking from the screen to him, her lips painted into a half-smile that failed to reach her eyes.

“Late enough for us to get up, I guess,” she teased just as Cillian's phone started to ring on the nightstand, shattering the moment.

He reached for it, scanning the caller ID, David O'Shea, the private investigator he'd hired to locate you. Cillian’s heart raced, anticipation tightening his chest.

“Hey, David,” he answered, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Cillian, I’ve got something for you,” David’s voice crackled through the line, a hint of urgency threading through the usual calm.

“Yeah? What did you find?”

“Based on the car’s number plates, I tracked down a business address," David began to explain. "I called the business and they confirmed that the vehicle belongs to company run by a guy named James O'Reilly. He’s listed as the owner, and I believe he's your Y/N's husband," David explained, causing Cillian to sigh.

"I will text you the address," David finally announced and Cillian slid out of bed, getting dressed in a haste.

"Thanks, David. I appreciate it," he replied while Naomi looked at him with narrowed eyes, her phone forgotten.

“Who was that?” she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

Cillian pulled a shirt over his head, his mind absent. "David, the guy I asked to find me Y/N's address," he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

“Oh god Cillian, seriously?" Naomi rolled her eyes, frustration tightening her expression. “You’re still going on with this?" she asked, her voice laced with annoyance.

"Listen, I have a bad feeling about this. It's just a gut feeling, but I think something is wrong and she has had a baby without medical care. I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least make sure she is okay," Cillian expained and Naomi scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

“You want to go chase after some random woman when we have wedding things to finalise?” she asked and Cillian paused, trying to keep his frustration in check. “Naomi, this isn't just any woman. She’s a young mother who went through something traumatic. I have to know she and her baby are safe," he repeated and, with that, he left the bedroom and made his way downstairs and gathering his car keys.

"I will be back at two to check out the cakes with you, alright?" he then asked Naomi who, by now, had followed him to the hallway.

"Okay ," she replied, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "But you better not take too long. We have so much to do, Cillian."

Cillian nodded absently, slipping into his jacket, the cool fabric brushing against his skin as he stepped outside. The air felt different today—charged with anticipation and uncertainty. He hopped into his car, the engine humming to life, and he gripped the steering wheel tightly, frustration mingling with determination.

After a little more than an hour, his nav igator led him to a quiet street lined with modest houses, their worn facades hiding stories of weathered lives. He parked in front of a small complex and sought out the unit number David had shared with him.

As Cillian approached the unit, his heart thudded with each step. The slight chill in the air seemed to bite into his skin, adding to the knot tightening in his gut. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then knocked gently on the door. Silence greeted him, only the rustle of leaves in the faint breeze filling the air.

He knocked again, this time harder . With each rap on the door, anxiety twisted tighter in his chest. He had to know if you were okay after all that happened to you and, most importantly, he wanted to know whether Mika was doing well.

Eventually, the door creaked open slightly, and you poked your head out slightly.

"What are you doing here and how the fuck did you find me?' you whispered and Cillian's breath caught as he took in the sight of youbr, with several bruises webbed across your cheekbone.

"I came to the hospital but you were gone," Cillian said, his voice softer now, an undercurrent of concern threading through his words.

You hesitated, the door barely ajar, your eyes darting back into the dimly lit hallway behind you, assessing the safety of your surroundings before focusing on him.

“Please, just go away,” you whispered urgently, pulling the door tighter against your body as though it could shield you from more than just the world outside.

"Please. Just let me help," Cillian urged, stepping closer, keeping his tone low and steady.

“No help! Just go! You shouldn’t be here,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, panic simmering beneath the surface.

Cillian searched your face, his heart racing as he recognized the fear in your eyes. Instinctively , he took a step back, giving you space before pulling a battered receipt from his pocket and scrawling his number down with a shaking hand.

“Take this. If you need anything, day or night, just call,” he said, pushing the receipt into your trembling hand, trying to convey assurance through his intense gaze.

You stared at the small piece of paper, your fingers curling around it, as if holding onto a lifeline in a storm.

“Please leave," you repeated, voice barely above a whisper, your eyes wide with fear.

Cillian nodded slowly, recognising the gravity of the moment.

"Okay, I will go. But please call me if you need my help," he said, his heart heavy as he stepped back again, giving you the space you seemed to desperately crave. The door remained slightly ajar, a barrier that kept the outside world at bay while encasing both of you in an ocean of unspoken fear.

He saw you clenching the receipt tightly, your knuckles pale in contrast to your bruised skin before finally turning around and retreating from the doorway.

You then shut the door behind you with a finality that echoed in the silence of the corridor.

Cillian hesitated for a moment before leaving, his heart pounding in his chest like a relentless drum. He stood on the porch, staring at the door where you had disappeared, wishing he could do more, but at least for now, he couldn't.

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[cptindanvers]

can't seem to run you out of my mind [you part 3]

summary: distancing yourself from Steve and Nancy was quite possibly the best decision of your life. but, doesn’t distance make the heart grow fonder?

pairing: steve harrington x reader (set end of s2 + s3)

word count: 8.7k!

a/n: it's finally here!! after like . two years of this rotting, untouched from its first very rough draft. well. hope u enjoy! (also, can u tell how much i hate writing the show scenes LOL)

part one / part one [remastered] / part two / masterlist

November came and went in a flash. Attempts at forgetting the month's events and living normally was starting to feel like a dream; always just out of reach.

This time, Steve had gotten wrapped up in everything because of your advice; flowers are the key to a girl's heart, you'd insisted. They also happened to be the key to near-death experiences, apparently.

It was a series of unfortunate events, really.

Jonathan had been spending an awful lot of time with Nancy; you'd be happy for him if it hadn't left Steve with no one but you to call.

Steve had made sure to keep you updated on everything that happened between him and Nancy. You knew he had no bad intentions, but listening to him talk about how much he loved Nancy was agonizing for your poor heart. Steve felt like he owed it to you, considering he'd shown up at your door without warning that Halloween night. You felt like it was the worst form of torture.

And so, he'd innocently walked up to Nancy's house with flowers at the same time Dustin Henderson walked up; his one-way ticket to danger.

The kids had recounted everything you missed out on afterwards, stars in their eyes. A majority of the good comments about Steve came from Dustin, which caught you by surprise. Dustin's defensive tone made you wonder about any information he hadn't relayed.

Hearing about Steve protect the kids you adored made all those nasty, wonderful feelings bubble in your chest. But the same heroic tales led you to the awful realization that underneath it all, you've led Steve down to danger from the very beginning; if Jonathan had answered the door two years ago, Steve would've been blissfully unaware of the Upside Down.

But it was too late to think about how things could've been different; maybe Steve would've gotten involved regardless of you. At the end of the day, both of you had gotten tangled up in another inter-dimensional predicament, pulling the two of you together in ways you'd hoped to avoid.

This new Steve, heroic and selfless, risking his life for teenagers he just met, definitely didn't align with the Steve you once knew.

And you so desperately wanted to learn everything about this new Steve.

The hopefulness made that familiar ache in your chest painfully present and the logical side of you knew you'd have to snap yourself back into reality at some point.

Or rather, Jonathan did.

⁂

Apologies and explanations were exchanged, though the both of you knew you couldn't stay mad at each other for long. A much-needed late night talk revealed the relationship that'd started between Nancy and Jonathan, a bright blush creeping up Jonathan's neck as he summarized what happened.

You'd confided in Jonathan about your very complicated feelings towards Steve, knowing Jonathan was quite possibly the only person in Hawkins who'd understand. He nodded as you spoke, letting you get everything off your chest; and what a relief it was.

"I just don't know what to do," you sighed dejectedly, Jonathan's silence worrying you as you wondered how he'd weigh in.

"He hurt you." Jonathan said factually, as if you had no idea.

"I know."

"I just want you to be careful."

You sighed. "I know," you mumbled quietly as Jonathan pulled you in for a hug.

He was right, as annoying as it was. There was no way you could ever go back to Steve with the way he treated you. Even if he changed, it didn't change what he did.

So, you went back to how you were before; distancing yourself from Steve. It was different this time; you were no longer fighting lingering feelings. You'd acknowledged them, now you'd have to let them pass over you.

⁂

It'd been around 7 months since El closed the gate and saved all your asses, and a week or two since you'd last seen Steve at Hawkins High.

You weren't exactly avoiding Steve - though you did duck your head anytime you saw him in the halls, pretending you were too deep in conversation with a friend to hear him call your name. Maybe you could be friends with him one day, but you needed time without him for a while.

Over half a year had gone by faster than you'd anticipated. Winter became spring which turned into summer, the chilly months fighting a losing battle to the warmer temperatures. The heat became unbearable in June, forcing most Hawkins residents to take shelter in their homes. Those who were brave enough to venture outside frequented the town’s only pool or the new Starcourt Mall with dozens of indoor shops or, perhaps most importantly, air conditioning.

The few weeks out of school had been vital to your journey of protecting your peace; getting to pick and choose who you spent your time with gave you a greater sense of control. You could finally, confidently say you were doing well; great, even. The gaping hole in your chest, kept open by unwanted interactions, had healed.

Steve wasn't on your mind on your third date with someone you'd met at the library a few weeks ago. Steve wasn't on your mind when the two of you entered the brand new Starcourt Mall. Steve wasn't on your mind when your date offered to buy ice cream, until Steve was right in front of you. A few awkward glances were passed as your date paid and took your ice creams, but Steve was no longer on your mind as the two of you walked out, hand in hand.

Things were good; bearable now.

"So..." your date began. "Who was that?"

A part of you pondered why your date wondered who Steve was. You'd made it clear that once summer was over, the two of you would be too.

You shrugged nonchalantly, swiping at your ice cream before answering. "Just an ex."

"Anyone I should be worried about?"

A small - albeit a little annoyed - smile crept onto your face.

"Not at all."

⁂

Jonathan had been a little distant this summer, busy balancing a new relationship and internship at the Hawkins Post. You didn't mind much; you recognized the opportunity he was given, and how lucky he was to share it with Nancy. And, the two of you always made time to catch each other up on the most important details.

Other than occupying yourself with summer flings, you spent time with your annoying kids that you loved dearly.

The kids were dying to visit the mall; and while they had their bikes, they also had a perfectly available chaperone who they knew they could plead into doing essentially anything for them.

It was partially your fault for always giving into the kids, but as mischievous as they were, you loved seeing them happy. Plus, it was summer; they were well deserving of a break after all they 'd been through.

However, they were a lot more resourceful than you'd anticipated.  Somehow, the teens had roped Steve Harrington into their antics. The surprise on your face was evident when the kids led you into Scoops Ahoy, coercing Steve into letting them into the movies for free. You knew what Steve did for them, of course; how could you forget? But you hadn't anticipated the relationship to continue after the monsters were banished.

"Tiny assholes, all of them." Steve had his hands on his hips, looking a lot like an exasperated babysitter.

You laughed in agreement.

You planned on spending the next approximately 2 hours shopping for Dustin; he was coming home in a few weeks, you had yet to find a suitable welcome back gift for him. Those plans were trashed as the kids had circled back around, complaining about how they had to walk all over the mall searching for you. Surprise overcame you once again that day; conversation with Steve had come too easily, too natural. So much that two hours had passed in the blink of an eye.

You rolled your eyes at the kids, threatening to let them walk home before waving a goodbye to Steve, leading the teens out of the mall and into your car like ducklings.

It was adorable.

"What the hell was that about?" A voice from behind Steve demanded.

"Jesus, Robin! I thought you went home."

"No way. I just didn't want to interrupt whatever that was." Robin propped herself up to sit on the ledge connecting the break room and ice cream parlor, suddenly very intrigued in studying Steve's body language.

Steve huffed, crossing his arms. "I don't know what you're talking about." He turned his head, hoping Robin wouldn't spot the red hue creeping up his face.

"Seriously? That was the longest you've talked to a girl all summer. I'd give you a point if you'd at least gotten her number or something!"

Steve ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Do you seriously not - ? I can't just -"

"What, did you break her heart in high school or something?" Robin laughed a little, only half joking until she saw how Steve's face dropped, suddenly very interested in wiping down the spotless counter.

Robin bit her bottom lip, hating how big her stupid mouth was. Whoever you were, you clearly meant a lot to Steve. Robin hadn't even thought that was possible, though she was realizing that maybe, there was a lot more to Steve than he let people see.

"Well, it seems like she forgave you? I mean, I wouldn't talk to someone I hated for two hours." Robin's voice softened, suddenly feeling the need to reassure Steve. Who would've thought?

"Yeah, I just... it's complicated, okay?"

That would've been the end of it; until you walked back into Scoops Ahoy, completely alone, a few days later.

Maybe it was out of boredom, maybe loneliness. Maybe you realized how embarrassing it was that the majority of your friend group consisted of kids that hadn't officially reached high school yet.

Whatever led you to Scoops didn't matter as you walked in, watching the surprise on Steve's face as you came up to the counter.

"Hey, you" Steve said automatically, wanting to punch himself in the face. "What brings you here?"

You shrugged, not even glancing down at the array of ice cream. "Guess I missed you."

The boldness of your words caught Steve off guard, a minute to recollect himself necessary.

"Sorry?" His voice came out at a higher pitch than usual, lips parted in confusion and eyes big.

"I want to be friends, Steve. I mean, if that's okay -"

"No, yeah! That's - that's more than okay," Steve quickly reassured you, glancing up at the few customers entering the store.

"Tell you what, if you want to sit in the back - I'll just take care of them and take my break?" Steve glanced at you nervously, as if he was asking for your permission; as if the slightest inconvenience would make you change your mind and walk away from him. Steve realized that he really didn't want you to leave.

You entered the back of Scoops Ahoy as instructed, glancing warily at the big, red  EMPLOYEES ONLY. Perhaps the sign was warning you of things you couldn't see just yet; but how could you have known what such a simple action would lead to?

Always too stubborn to heed any warnings, you entered the break room of the parlor, eyes landing on a girl in a Scoops Ahoy uniform; she was sitting at the small metal table in the center of the room, well-loved sneakers propped up in front of her. Her name tag read Robin, and Robin had stopped eating her yogurt mid-bite to stare at you, a knowing smile growing on her face.

"Sorry, I didn't realize anyone was -" Your words faltered as your face warmed; you hadn't even realized Steve had a coworker.

"Oh, it's okay! You're waiting for Steve, right? He talks about you a ton." Robin smiled warmly, getting up from her spot to meet you, face-to-face.

"Really? I -"

"I'm Robin. I don't think we've properly met." Robin stuck her hand out, yogurt long forgotten.

You took Robin's hand gently, introducing yourself with a bright smile. You had a feeling the two of you would get along well.

Just as Robin finished talking about a super annoying customer that complained about her serving too much ice cream - who complains about that, anyway? Steve burst open into the break room, as if you ran away in the few minutes that'd passed from the last time he saw you.

"Hey," Steve breathed out, snatching the stupid sailor hat off his head, eyes glancing from you to Robin back to you.

"I see you've met Robin." Steve motioned to the girl standing next to you, her arm reaching up and over your abdomen.

"Yup," Robin said, squeezing your side as she headed for the door back into the parlor. "You're way out of his league, by the way!" Robin called as she shut the break room door behind her.

The sweet sound of your laughter dissolved the scowl right off Steve's face.

"She's - ignore her." Steve ran a hand through his hair, motioning towards the table.

"She's sweet." You took a seat as Steve slid into a chair across from you. "Seems like a good influence." You teased.

"What? I'm totally the good influence here. She's younger too, so I'm, like, basically her mentor or whatever." Steve smiled, voice tapering off as he glanced at you, unspoken questions lingering in his eyes.

"You know, I didn't realize you were... friends with the kids." You said the word carefully, as if the statement would offend Steve.

"Honestly, I didn't either. Gave Dustin some advice and I guess we bonded." Steve shrugged, smile a little sad as he remembered that day.

"Advice? Really?" You let out a small laugh. There was no bite to your words, yet you brought heat to Steve's face, an embarrassed hand coming up to his neck.

"Yeah, I mean..." Steve was a little apprehensive, but your eager gaze led the next words out of his mouth, almost unconsciously. Steve lowered his voice, as if Dustin could hear him from however many miles away. "Dustin had a crush."

Your reaction was priceless; the way your eyes widened in surprise, hand clapping over your mouth as if Steve had just revealed the most groundbreaking piece of news of your life.

"You know, I always suspected -" You began, recalling the way Dustin had described the new girl in Hawkins.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. You say that now." Steve interrupted, eyes crinkling with that award-winning smile.

"No, I did!" You insisted between bursts of laughter. "I swear!"

"Yeah, I guess you always had that kind of intuition," Steve smiled fondly at the memories he kept of you, stored neatly in a special part of his mind. "Remember when you swore John and... Christ, what was her name?"

"Melissa!" The excitement at such a simple recollection made Steve's heart flutter.

"Melissa," Steve snapped his fingers, pointing back at you. "John and Melissa. They looked at each other once in that class we all had."

"You know they're still together?" You reported, eyes gleaming with memories of your old classmates. A lot of them weren't terrible, for the most part.

"What? I swear they've broken up like, twenty times." Steve's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, smile reappearing as he watched you laugh softly.

"Guess there's someone for everyone, right?"

Steve took a second too long to reply, watching the way the florescent lights of Scoops Ahoy illuminated the warm glow on your face, cheeks surely sore from all the smiling. Thoughts betrayed him as he glanced down to your lips; he'd kissed them plenty of times before, but he took all good things for granted back then. The corners of Steve's lips turned up at your suggestion of true love and soulmates; ideas that always entertained him, though he never was quite sure how much of it he bought into.

"Yeah," Steve was suddenly very interested in his hands, tracing figures on his palms. "I guess there is."

He prayed to any higher being out there you couldn't see the way his skin turned pink under your gaze.

⁂

Your trips to Scoops Ahoy quickly became routine, easier to settle into than you'd expected, or even planned.

You'd begun being the one who suggested the kids hang out at Starcourt, eventually drawing suspicion with each additional leap at the mention of the mall; it was strange how they no longer had to beg you to drive them there.

Visits to Scoops Ahoy were made during the week, at hours Steve assured you would be slow, anyway. The last thing you wanted was to get in the way of anyone's work. Though Steve was right for the most part, he couldn't fully control the stream of customers at any given time.

Robin always commented on how you might as well get a job at Scoops with how much time you spent there, but you always laughed the comment off.

"Really, I don't know why you choose to be here, especially when Steve Harrington works here." Robin half-joked as the two of you wiped down tables.

"He's not so bad."  You said softly, playing along.

"Sure." Robin teased lightly, smiling growing on her face.

Maybe it would be too much, too serious if you got a job at the same place as Steve. Perhaps you worried of lines you'd cross if that step was taken.

So, you stuck to your little routine of visiting Scoops Ahoy - sometimes with the kids, but mostly alone.

⁂

The bell rings, and Steve turns quickly, throwing the rag he was using to shine the counter over his shoulder. His customer-appropriate smile falters when he sees the guy  - the one you had come in with only a few weeks prior - with another girl.

Steve definitely didn't earn himself a tip with his service, but his annoyance (and perhaps jealousy) had sprung onto him out of nowhere. I mean, how did you even stand going out with the guy? Steve recognized him; he had been on the basketball team with him but had never even made it off the bench.

And although high school shouldn't be consuming so much of Steve's mind post-graduation, he can't help but reminisce as he wipes down the counters for the fourth time; no customers to serve - no distractions to keep him from thinking of you.

His thoughts hadn't initially started with you, but it seemed like you were seeping into every crevice of his brain. When you weren't around, he talked Robin's ear off about you, funny stories you had shared, or pointing out something he remembered you enjoyed. And, really, he wasn't sure he ever stopped being able to think about you.

But all those thoughts, all his memories of you, eventually led him back to the part were he ruined it all.

Maybe something about all the shit he's seen these past two years, the life-threatening situations he found himself in over and over again finally made Steve grow up. There were much more important things than whether the people he associated with were cool enough to be around; no value in things like his reputation. He was sure you'd been the only person, at least back then, to really care about him.

Even then, he was too afraid to let his persona down around you. He was always a gentleman, always suave; but never vulnerable. Not enough, anyway.

The way he acted back then makes Steve want to go back and help Jonathan get a few more punches in, really. And Steve, even after your tenth time visiting Scoops Ahoy, can't wrap his head around the idea that you're here, willing to even talk to him.

So, if friendship is all you have to offer Steve, that's what he'll take.

But it's beginning to eat away at him.

Steve turns his engine off once he pulls into your driveway, but it's as if you can sense he doesn't want you to go quite yet.

There's no tension, not like last time, but Steve's turned toward you and he has that habit of biting his lips when he's nervous and it's making you nervous.

"We never did, um... talk about-"

"Steve, we really don't have to-"

"Why? I mean, I can admit to all of it and I just want to-"

"Well, I don't want to, Steve!" You say exasperatedly. Perhaps it's because the strange form of friendship you have with him now is riding on the fact that you've managed to swallow all your pain and put it far behind you, to associate it with a version of Steve that didn't exist anymore. Maybe it was easier to believe that you had both had been playing pretend with each other, never really together. And, god, was Steve making it difficult for you.

"I care about you," Steve starts once the silence has become unbearable. "I mean, I did before, too, and I was really bad at showing it, but I did love you-" Shit. That's not what Steve had meant to say.

"Steve-"

"I didn't mean..." Steve sighs, tapping his fingers on his steering wheel.

"I don't think you do. Love me." Your voice is so soft, careful. "Maybe you thought you did. Maybe you think you do now. But I think... maybe you're just a little lonely, Steve."

You can't bring yourself to look at him. Not as you open the passenger car door, not as you make a quiet exit, not as you enter your home; leaving him as just as you did two years ago.

Once again, Steve's made all this so complicated.

⁂

You have the decency not to show up to Scoops Ahoy anymore, much to Steve's dismay. He wasn't trying to change anything. He had been more than content with just seeing you semi-regularly; maybe that's why he still searched for your face in the crowd.

But you didn't want Steve to stay in love with you, or stay confused, or whatever it was you thought Steve was feeling. He knew that. He also knew that your actions, however kind, were pointless. A piece of Steve would always be reserved for you.

Isn't that what being in love feels like?

⁂

Your shift in demeanor when the kids bring up Starcourt gives you away quickly.

It's subtle; a furrow of your brow, an avoidance of eye contact, an excuse, and a suggestion of a different place to visit.

Max catches on first, testing her theory with questions, eventually leading the topic back up to Steve.

"You like him, don't you?" Max smiles, thinking she's figured it out. "He obviously likes you, too, so there's nothing to worry about!"

You bite back a tart laugh. That was exactly the problem. "I promise you, I do not like Steve."

"Didn't you guys date before?" Mike pipes up, faintly recalling some type of history between the two of you.

"We did."

"So why'd you break up? Did he do something? I know with Nancy-"

"Mike!" Max scoffs. "Obviously she doesn't want to talk about it!"

"Guys, it's fine," you insist. "But I promise, there's nothing going on between Steve and I."

"Oh-kay," Mike raises his hand in surrender. "But do you really think we'd ever willingly just hang out with Steve Harrington?" Max frowns and smacks Mike's arm. "Ow! What? I'm just saying!"

⁂

"And then I told her I still loved her. But it was an accident!"

"Still love her? As in, did before?"

"We were together for a while junior year. It... didn't end very well."

Robin sits with this information, faintly recalling ignoring hushed whispers about a situation her sophomore year, Steve's name thrown around more than usual.

"Okay, so what'd she say?"

Steve goes quiet, suddenly very intrigued by his half-eaten banana. "That I didn't and I was just lonely."

Robin can at least acknowledge the pain in Steve's voice, no matter how he tries to hide it. "I really don't mean to be a downer, but... you've only been talking regularly for, what, a few weeks? And you just realized you've been in love for who knows how long after a few weeks?"

It doesn't sound rational. Not in Steve's head, or anyone else's. And maybe Steve didn't really know what love was. It wasn't like he'd ever been around a good example of it. Perhaps he was still too young, too deprived of love to recognize it.

But Steve's heart was trying so desperately to convince him otherwise, recalling all the moments you'd made him feel too much too quickly, dating back to sophomore year.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Steve mutters, throwing the rest of his banana into the trash, his appetite suddenly lost.

⁂

It's been days since Steve last saw you.

It would've been unbearable if Dustin hadn't come home a few days after your last talk with Steve - and really, Steve couldn't be more grateful.

It was strange how much he missed Dustin. It was strange how their friendship continued past demonic dogs together, and even stranger how much normalcy Dustin was able to bring Steve - though there was no way it could've lasted long.

Dustin came in with a secret Russian code begging to be cracked. Of course, after Steve, the second person he wanted to loop in was you. And of course, you came running.

⁂

Your little mission has led you to an elevator - trapped, if you wanted to be completely accurate.

You knew this was a bad idea - but it was better to tag along and try to keep them as safe as possible than to leave them on their own. Right?

There's not much of a bright side, though. No way to push yourself into danger as long as it meant getting everyone else to safety - wherever you were going, you'd all be going together.

The idea didn't comfort you.

"I think you were right." Steve interrupts your useless brainstorming of ways to get out - something the rest of them had given up on a while ago.

"Hmm? About the door?"

"What? No," Steve laughs, arms crossed as he stands in a corner of the elevator, hoping for as much privacy as he could get with three other people. "No, I mean... me. Us. About what you said that day."

"Oh. That." Your chest tightens, and you're unable to distinguish if it's discomfort or hurt. It was confirmation. You were right. Steve had never really loved you.

"That," Steve repeats. "I didn't... I never wanted anything to change. You want to be friends, that's all we'll be. I'm happy with that. Just... I want you to stick around, alright? I mean, it's bad enough I dragged you into this-"

You scoff. "Steve, I'm the one who dragged you into this."

Steve's brows furrow as he gives you a look.

"Two years ago. If I hadn't opened that door..."

"Oh, you mean if you'd shot me?"

Both of you laugh. "I should've shot you! I think you would've been better off." Cause, god did it feel like you were a magnet, dragging Steve towards everything terrible that popped up in Hawkins.

"Nah," Steve shakes his head. "It's all taught me a lot. Made me think about things differently."

You'd almost be grateful for the whirring noise that picked up your attention - if it didn't hammer in the last nail in the we're so screwed coffin.

The sense of dread that sticks in the pit of your stomach doesn't go away, even as you all finally make it out of the elevator; it seems to intensify with each step taken down the abnormally long hallway.

Something wasn't right.

At least you weren't alone. Steve and Dustin slow their paces alongside you as the three of you begin to exchange looks and whispers.

"Look, it's just a theory, right?" Steve chirps. "We don't know for sure."

"Yeah, but if we are right..." Dustin trails off, eyes falling on you as you bite the inside of your cheek.

"Better start praying we're wrong," you mumble, quickening your pace before the three of you lag too far behind.

⁂

Your situation somehow worsens when you stumble upon the main hub, or whatever this place was, dozens of very heavily armed guards standing perfectly in between you and the room you wanted to break in to.

Somehow, slowly and sneakily, the five of you make it; and you would've been home free if it weren't for the soldier in the coms room, hand reaching for his gun before you can even react.

Luckily, Steve's faster. He has the soldier down in a surprising amount of time, considering his odds when it came to fights.

"You can shoot, right?" Dustin says, motioning to the knocked-out solider. "Take his gun!"

You consider it, but only for a few seconds. "No," you shake your head. "There's too many of them out there. If they see us with a gun, they'll shoot. At all of us."

There was no way you were putting everyone in that type of danger. The mood goes solemn with the thought, only snapping out of it when Robin's voice interrupts.

"Guys," she says breathlessly, motioning to the stairs behind her. "There's something up there."

Quietly, everyone makes their way up the stairs to a small room with windows that confirm your suspicions.

Whoever these people are, they're trying to reopen The Gate.

⁂

It's not long after you notice the missing guard that the alarms go off and god, you never should've let the kids get involved.

Your body moves quicker than your brain, breaking into a run while you try to navigate the facility and, simultaneously, lead everyone to somewhere safe.

There's an empty room and you shut the door as soon as the last person enters, immediately leaning yourself against the door to try and keep it shut. Steve's right beside you, bracing himself with his back against the door.

"Go!" Steve shouts and you think he's urging Dustin and Erica down the vent they've uncovered - but you turn your head and realize he's talking to you.

"What? No-"

"Please," Steve pleads, desperately. "Please go."

Robin acts quickly, urging you towards the kids as she places herself against the door. "I've got it," she assures.

Because, even if she hasn't known Steve for long, she knows he'll never forgive her if something Robin could've prevented happened to you.

There's not a lot of time; not as Dustin stands halfway in the vent, not as the soldiers group around the door, trying to force their way in.

So you go.

⁂

Your throat tightens as the space around you constricts drastically, but having to crawl through vents isn't your main concern.

The regret was instant, the urge to turn back strong. But where would that get you? No, where would that get the kids?

Steve had sent you to protect them. Yes, that was it. That was what you had to do now. Focus and get them out.

"Come on," you say, wiping the sweat off your brow as you all come to a fan blocking your passage. "Pass me the screwdriver."

⁂

"Oh, god."

Dustin works on Steve and Robin's restraints hastily as you stare down at the man you'd... electrocuted? killed?

You don't feel bad, not after seeing the damage on Steve's face. His uniform is stained with fresh blood still streaming from the gash near his mouth. His eye is almost swollen shut. Robin, at least, looks physically unscathed, but who knows what they did or said?

"Get ready to run," Dustin warns, finally pulling the restraints loose.

Though, it was a lot less running and a lot more dragging.

⁂

"Are they drunk?"

"No, no," you crouch next to Steve, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. "I think they got drugged."

"What? I'm fine," Steve laughs, hands reaching for your face.

"Steve, let me see your eyes." You try to hold him still, pulling his eyelid up to check his pupils; his extremely dilated pupils.

"No, I wanna see your- ow- eyes," Steve mumbles.

You turn back to Dustin and Erica. "Definitely drugged."

The elevator comes to a stop and you're dragging Steve up. He almost knocks you over with the way he clings onto you, laughing about something you can't understand. You pull Robin up with your free hand, grip on them strong as you tug them out of the room.

"Shit!" Dustin cries as guards begin to run at you.

"Go, go," You motion towards the room to your left, dragging Steve and Robin along as quickly as you possibly can.

"Why are we running?" Robin groans, trying to worm herself out of your grasp.

Dustin takes the lead, navigating the hallways you're sure Steve has taught him how to sneak through. Thank god for their bribery.

Dustin finds the right door and sticks his head out. "All clear," he announces before opening it fully.

"Okay," you stop for a breath, letting Steve and Robin loose and turning towards Dustin and Erica. "My car's parked out front, we can get out through the side entrance and..." you reach into your back pocket for your keys but come up empty-handed.

Your heart drops.

"What?" Dustin asks, staring at your expression.

"My keys are gone," you say solemnly.

"What do you mean they're gone?"

You check your back pocket again. And your other one, and your front ones. "They're gone. They must've fallen out somewhere, shit!"

"Hey, guys?" Erica calls. "Where'd they go?"

Your head snaps; Erica's right. Robin and Steve are gone.

"We're gonna need backup," Dustin sighs.

⁂

"Okay, my turn," Robin giggles. "What really happened between you and... you know. I mean, I heard rumors but..."

Steve sighs from his stall, leaning his head against the wall.

"I cheated on her. With her best friend."

"Oh, wow. Yeah, it's definitely still in your system."

"Biggest mistake of my entire life. I don't even know why I did it. I guess I was so used to... pretending. I thought... that maybe she didn't actually think our relationship was real. I mean, looking back, I don't think I had any genuine relationships... with anyone, except her. I just... got caught up in all the lies and thought we were one, too."

Robin sits quietly, unsure of how to respond.

"You OD over there?"

She laughs. "No, no, I am still alive."

Steve slides under the stall, leaning back opposite of Robin. "I guess... I never expected her to forgive me, right? She said she did, but... I don't know. I guess I never forgave myself."

"She still cares about you, y'know?" Robin offers. "I mean, it's obvious."

That at least pulls out a laugh from Steve. "Yeah, I don't know. I mean, maybe you're right. Maybe it's time to move on. Meet new people."

Maybe the shit Robin got injected with is still messing with her head - or maybe the sad look in Steve's eyes is killing her. She doesn't know him as well as she thought she did, couldn't chalk up his character to rich, popular, white boy with no problems of his own.

But to do this, to be actual friends with Steve Harrington, there was something he needed to know.

"Do you... remember what I said about Click's class?"

⁂

The walkie-talkie only gets you so far without an extra eight double-a batteries. Seriously, did it really need that many?

You're getting exasperated in your search as you exit the theater and look at the unusually empty Starcourt walkways. That's right. It's the Fourth of July.

"Uh, okay, think," Dustin says. "If I were a drugged-up Steve, where would I be?"

"Maybe they went back to Scoops?" Erica suggests.

"No," you shake your head. "I think I know where they went."

Dustin bursts into the bathroom and you breathe an audible sigh of relief as you spot Steve and Robin in one of the stalls.

"Seriously, what the hell?" Dustin demands.

You stick out your hands immediately, helping Steve and Robin up once again. "Are you guys feeling better?"

"Yup, think we got must of it out of our systems," Steve confirms, suddenly incredibly self-conscious of the blood and vomit staining his uniform. God, he doesn't even want to see what he looks like right now.

But there's nothing but worry in your eyes as you check for any new damage since the last time you saw them. Now, though, in the florescent lights of the Starcourt bathroom, you can really see how Steve's face has been healing.

And by that, you mean it looks even worse.

"It probably looks worse than it is," Steve tries to assure, hands bringing yours that hold his face as you try to inspect it, down.

"Yeah, well, you look like shit," you mutter.

"I really hate to interrupt, but do we have a way out of here?" Robin pipes up.

You sigh. "Dustin tried to call the rest of the kids, but we don't know how much they heard. We have no idea where they are and... my keys are gone! So..."

"We're gonna have to go out there," Dustin says, cracking open the bathroom door.

The rest of you peer over his head, watching as crowds emerge out of the theater.

"And... blend."

⁂

"Abort, abort!"

"Go, go!" For the millionth time, you're rushing everyone along - this time, sliding down the space between the up and down escalators.

"Get behind that counter," you say. "Go!"

You and Steve help Dustin and Erica jump over the counter as each of you press your backs against the nooks made for the employees.

Someone's sneaker squeaks against the linoleum and you hold your breath as you hear a voice, not so far off, saying something you can't understand.

Your eyes fall to your lap, where you realize Steve's hand is clasped around yours. You're not sure who reached for who, but it doesn't matter; you squeeze.

The sound of a car alarm brings surprise to your face as you turn to look at an equally confused Steve. A loud crash has you spinning, hands on the counter as the five of you slowly peer over.

The guards are down, red pools of blood slowly forming under them. The shiny red car once sitting in the middle of the food court sits, smoking, in the side of one of the food stalls.

You all turn slowly, but you only know one person capable of this.

El stands, peering over from the second floor, with the rest of the party, along with Nancy and Jonathan, coming up behind her.

Dustin breaks into a jog to hug Mike and El and you can't deny your pace quickens once you spot Jonathan.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been trying your house for days," Jonathan says, pulling you into a hug.

"Sorry, I was stuck underneath Starcourt."

He doesn't even have time to ask what the hell you were talking about before you're pulling Nancy into an equally tight embrace.

The game of catch-up commences as you five try to explain how the Russians and the Gate are, in fact, connected until El collapses.

"El? El!"

"My... leg..." El manages out through painful breaths.

"Okay, okay, her leg..."

Nancy moves the gauze on her leg off as Mike carefully rolls up her pant leg, revealing a wound that most certainly does not look right. Something moves inside of it, earning sick groans from the group.

"Keep her talking," Jonathan starts, getting up. "Keep her awake!" He calls sprints off in the direction of the food court, and you help Mike sit El up, carefully.

"You know, it's, uh, not that bad. You know, the goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg and, like, the whole bone came out of her knee, six inches or something, it was insane-"

"Robin, please," you say lightly.

"You're not helping," Steve adds.

"I'm sorry." She runs a hand through her hair, clearly overwhelmed. You can't blame her, really. Not after all the informaton about monsters and superpowers you all just dumped on her.

"Okay," Jonathan says, returning with a few new tools. "All right, El? This is gonna hurt like hell, okay? Need you to stay real still."

You grab El's hand and squeeze, lightly.

"Here, you're gonna want to bite down on this, okay?"

Jonathan slices the wound with the knife and El screams through the wooden spoon in her mouth, squeezing your hand hard.

Her screams only intensify and a collective gasp is drawn as Jonathan sticks his gloved fingers into the wound.

The pain becomes unbearable for El, your fingers close to breaking, when she spits out the spoon.

"Stop! I can do it... I can do it."

All of you watch in terror as El screams, forcing whatever was in her leg out.

The shop window behind you shatters and you cover her head from the spray of glass, watching as the slimey, fleshy, thing makes it out of her leg and goes flying, crawling, smashed under a shoe.

There stands Hopper, Joyce, and a man you've never seen before.

Now the real game of catch-up commences.

⁂

"Hey," a voice comes up behind you.

"Hey." You turn to see Steve, face a few different shades now. It's too quiet between the two of you now, the world pushing you together harder in the last twenty-four hours than it ever had before. It might've been awkward if the threat of death wasn't looming over your head so consistently.

But there's no objective right now; no enemy to defeat, no facility to escape. No life-saving topics to discuss to distract from all the feelings you were trying to avoid.

"Why don't you let me clean that up?" You motion to his face; namely, his eye. "I'm sure there's a first aid kit somewhere." At the very least, there had to be ice.

Steve nods, unable to think of something cool and nonchalant to say. Robin catches his eye from a few feet away and shoots him a thumbs up - to which he makes a face at her.

There's a kit by the stove of whatever restaurant's counter Steve sits on, bouncing his knee nervously.

It's not the proximity that bothers him, he swears. But your touch has always been one he leans into, instinctively. Even when the alcohol you use to swipe at the dried blood stings when it touches his cuts, Steve doesn't do anything to break the contact between your fingers and his skin.

You're gentle, guiding Steve's head around carefully, even in places where he's uninjured. You apologize when he flinches, and he would shake his head at you if you hadn't insisted he stay still.

There's a look in your eyes, and for what feels like the first time ever, Steve doesn't know what you're feeling.

The corners of your lips pull down into a small frown as you press ice against Steve's swollen eye, apologies escaping you.

"'S fine," Steve insists, taking the responsibility of holding up the bag full of ice cubes from you.

"What... happened in there?" You ask, though you're not sure you really want to hear the answer.

"Oh, pfft. Got punched a few times, injected with a mystery drug. No biggie, really." There was no sarcasm in Steve's voice as he tried to downplay the situation, but his efforts to make you feel better were in vain.

"I should've stayed," you start.

"No-"

"No, I should've stayed, Steve! I had no idea what was happening to you down there and if... if something happened, if something worse had happened-!"

Your hands are in Steve's. Somehow, they've managed to work themselves in there again.

"I was going crazy imagining what they were doing to you. I think I would've preferred getting punched in the face as long as I knew... as long as I was with you."

It's all coming out now, all clicking in your head. You couldn't deny how worried you were about Steve, how panic had filled every crevice of your body when he wasn't in your line of sight; when he was in danger.

And what if he had gotten killed down there? What if one of you were to die fighting whatever fleshy monster you were bound to run into?

"This is a terrible time to say this, but I... I love you, Steve. I mean, as much as I don't want to, I do. It's fine if you're done with me, but you need to know, I mean, I have no idea what's going to happen after this, but almost losing you was the worst feeling of my entire life and we... we've been through some pretty bad shit!" You laugh because that's all you can do, nerves pooling in the pit of your stomach at Steve's silence.

But he's looking up at you with a glint in his good eye and lips parted - shock, maybe.

"Can, I uh... can I kiss you?" Steve asks, hoping you've wiped all the blood off the side of his mouth.

"Might just be your last chance," you smile, leaning in oh-so-carefully.

Steve's lips feel so familiar, but the way he kisses you is not. He's restrained, maybe because of the pain, maybe because of the disbelief. He holds you like he's always held you, carefully swiping a thumb across your cheek as you kiss.

You're careful as you pull away and Steve is starstruck.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No," Steve insists. "No, you didn't." Quite the opposite, really.

The worry won't wipe off your face so Steve takes your hands in his, thumbs tracing over your knuckles like he used to always do.

"Don't fuck up again, Harrington." Your voice comes out too soft, too vulnerable.

"I won't," Steve swears. "If I do, I fully give you permission to like... I don't know, chop off my dick or something."

"Hey," Robin calls, though she's unable to keep the grin off her face. "We just got put back on babysitting duty."

She doesn't miss how Steve doesn't let go of your hand all the way outside and she doesn't even mind squishing into the backseat with Dustin and Erica.

⁂

"Griswold Family, do you copy?!"

It's no use. They won't, or can't, pick up.

Your heart thuds in your chest at the thought of all the kids being so close to the danger. This wasn't the plan.

You catch Steve's eye and he nods, the two of you are up and off.

"Where are you going?" Erica demands.

"To get them the hell out of there! Stay here, contact the others!" Steve calls.

"Wait!" Dustin cries, throwing you a walkie. "Stay in touch."

You nod, carefully following Steve downhill as quickly as you can without tripping over yourself.

"Think we're gonna make it?" Steve asks as he manages to get back onto the road, slightly out of breath from the run.

"We're gonna make it," you assure, but you still let Steve's hand squeeze yours for just a second before returning to the wheel.

⁂

"Steve, he's not stopping!"

"Yeah, wouldn't expect that asshole to," Steve mutters. "Okay, hold on!"

You try not to scream as Steve presses the gas, aiming right for Billy. Steve puts his arm out in front of you upon impact, eyebrows drawn in worry.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, though you're not sure how honest you're being. "Come on," you hop out of the car, cramming into Nancy's backseat and shutting the door behind Steve, watching the giant spider flesh thing climb atop of Starcourt.

⁂

It would be comical, really. Dustin and the girlfriend you all thought was fake singing Never Ending Story while a monster chased you around. You'd be laughing if your lives weren't at stake.

"It's turning around," Steve warns and you press yourself closer to the window. Shit. He was right. "It's turning around!"

"Maybe we wore it out?"

"I don't think so!"

Jonathan makes a tight u-turn and, rather than driving the monster away, you're now following it.

Back to Starcourt, it is.

⁂

Your very own light show was right here in the middle of Starcourt, fireworks flung at the Mind Flayer evidently doing some damage. But you couldn't keep this up; the supply was running low and El was still down there with Billy.

All you could do was watch, horror-stricken, as the Mind Flayer got one final kill before the body was disconnected from the brain.

⁂

They put you in shock blankets as you sat in the ambulances. You weren't sure why, but maybe they were doing something. But it felt too constricting, too heavy on you. You had to stand, do something, check up on someone.

Someone beats you to it, bumping your knee with his as he takes a seat next to you.

There's no need for either of you to speak. There's not much to say, anyway.

Instead, you lean into Steve and he wraps his arms around you instantly, his own blanket slipping off as he slides his hands into yours.

There's a ghost of a kiss pressed against your forehead as you bury yourself further into Steve, away from everything horrible you'd seen today.

"Why don't you stay with me tonight?" Steve whispers carefully.

You nod, almost immediately. You don't want to be alone. Not tonight.

⁂

Goodbyes were tough.

Steve had come with you to say goodbye to Jonathan and Will. Despite his rocky relationship with the former and practically non-existant one with the latter, he'd show up anywhere you asked him to.

There were so many memories in the Byers home, some of them completely haunting - but so many of them wonderful.

"Remember when we burnt breakfast so bad it filled the whole house with smoke?" Jonathan reminisces from beside you, leaning against the door frame.

"We? You were supposed to keep an eye on it," you laugh. "Remember Christmas?"

"Yeah, when I had to beg you to stay over?"

"You just didn't want to drive me home."

"Untrue."

The two of you go silent, each of your minds replaying all the memories you had together here. In different orders, you were sure, but all the same memories.

Jonathan pulls you into a hug; tighter than any he's give you before.

"Don't start crying on me now," you joke, but your own throat is beginning to tighten.

"Yeah, you wish."

It's Will and El that almost break you, each of them receiving bone-crushing hugs that they don't complain about - how could they through their sobs?

You hold them until you've got to let go, watching with a heavy heart as all the kids say their final goodbyes.

Not final ones. Just goodbyes, for now.

None of you leave until the U-Haul is long gone, a piece of your little family driving off with them.

⁂

"Steve," you laugh, barely able to get a word in between all the kisses. "I am a forty minute drive away."

"It's almost an hour with traffic," Steve whines, trying to hold you still as he kisses your face.

"Then I'll meet you halfway," you compromise, taking advantage of your cheeks occupying his lips.

"No, no, I'll be here," Steve promises, attacking your lips again.

"Steve!" You laugh, pushing him away. "I'll be home on weekends. And on days I don't have class."

"What if I miss you before that?" Steve mutters, forehead pressed against yours, hands on your hips.

"Then you come visit me. I'm sure my roommate wouldn't mind an extra guest."

Steve groans as you laugh. His hands slide up to frame your face, your own hands resting atop of his.

"I'll see you in five days," you whisper with a smile.

"I'll be counting down the seconds."

Steve kisses you, as lovingly as he always does, until both your lips are puffy.

Maybe this summer wasn't so bad.