#not to mention what they did while writing/reading those scenes

[notsoftysof]

I just had a thought ...

Brennan canonically writes sex scenes in her novels. Between "Kathy and Andy", aka Booth and her. And Booth reads all her books. And she knows he reads them...

They kind of had a sex life before they got together..? In addition to exchanging i-love-you's, deciding to have a baby and admitting that they would kill&die for each other.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[letorip]

somethin’ stupid

“and then i go and spoil it all, by saying somethin’ stupid like ‘i love you’”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: even knowing that your relationship with wednesday is one huge grey area, you can't help the words that come tumbling from your lips one night while on an expedition together.

warnings: blood, violent attack scene, angsty pining, mentions of sex, fear of the dark

word count: 4.2k

A/N: first post, kinda nervous. honestly pumped to start posting on here after being somewhat new to writing. will try my best not to suck.

===+++===

It’s only after you meet Wednesday Addams for the first time that you understand why storms are named after people.

In the near five months total she had been in your life, she had quickly climbed to the top priority, and you found yourself trapped in her rain bands, tugged under her dark, swelling tide and drawn to less direct ways.

Now and likely until the very end of time, you followed her through the forest, peeking around each passing tree and shining your flashlight into the dark. It was a knight's sword for you, and you held it like a weapon so as to ward off evil spirits or howling beasts. Only, half of the time it ended up being a squirrel.

It seemed antithetical, to walk into the pitch black forest that had killed several hikers and injured Eugene, -or more the big ass creature inside it had, but Wednesday had never cared much for what made sense, and you knew better than to argue with her.

The rain continued to fall around the both of you, splattering against the hood of your rain coat and rolling down your sputtering lips, tracing your nose on the way down. If Wednesday was at all affected by the rain, she hadn't let it show yet. Not that she let much show, that was.

You shivered from a sudden gust of cold, wet wind rushing over your knuckles from where they white-gripped the rubber wrapping of your flashlight. "Are we almost there yet?" You asked, squinting into the trees. "I have to get up early tomorrow."

There was no possible way Wednesday could know where she was going in the sheer amount of darkness fended off by a flimsy Acebeam, but she pushed through like she did. Maybe orienteering was just part of the outré magic she always carried with her, or at least that's what you figured it probably was. In another life she had been a cheerful girl scout, though you knew better than to suggest that aloud.

The same could not be said for you, who was an utter idiot about directions and probably would have driven off a cliff by now without the use of a GPS. Wednesday had once said you wouldn't be able to find your way out of a cardboard box, and offensively, she was probably right.

It didn't make sense why she chose you of all people to bring along, then. You had no special strength or sight, and virtually no knowledge on how to investigate a murder, especially the serial kind. The only ability you had allowed you to read thoughts and minds, though you never dared read Wednesday's, even when you itched to know what she was thinking.

Despite feeling more like an achor dragging her boat down, almost every evening, at around the same time after dark, she showed up on your doorstep to tug you off to some dangerous place.

Maybe you were secretly hoping for a reward of some sort. She often indulged you as such, lips like a heroin shot directly to your veins, powering you through the day as you watched the clock tick away into night anticipating the next rush. Enid was right. You were whipped for her.

"Your protesting doesn't make the journey any shorter," she replied, turning with the dark look that always lurked in the back of her eyes.

You knew the movements well: when she glared, her eyes lowered slightly and her mouth tensed. One could not help but watch in awe, storing the memory for later. Or, at least those ‘whipped’ for her couldn’t. She spun back around to face forward, your flashlight pointing over her shoulder into the brooding dark.

The rain only seemed to come down harder from there, punishing you both for slogging through the mushy leaves when sane people would be indoors. But Wednesday would not settle until she found Arcadia.

You cleared your throat, uneasy with the ensuing silence.

"Where are we even going, Wednesday? We've been walking forever," you said, looking down at the pale grey rocks as you stepped over them. You were grateful for being clever enough to remember hiking boots.

"We're finding evidence," she replied. "I was informed of a suspicious cave out in the forest, and-" Wednesday's words came rushing to a halt as her foot clipped the rock in front of her. She stumbled a bit, and you threw out an arm to her back, there if she needed something to steady herself on.

It was uncoordinated and it was clunky at best, and Wednesday was far from appreciative. She jolted back from your touch as if you had stung her, glaring as harsh as ever. "Sorry," you said. "I didn't want you to fall." The tips of your ears had begun to burn again, upon realising you were made the fool for another time in a row.

"You should have," said Wednesday, walking ahead. "It simulates dropping dead." Of course, on you, such a statement did not have the desired effect. Whereas most would have replied in shock or disgust, you laughed. Out loud, right at her. The gall. She whipped back to you, perplexed and annoyed by the noise. "Have something to share?"

You grinned. "You can act cool all you want, but if you had actually landed in the mud, you would have been pissed." Her expression went from glare to glower impressively quickly, though you took great glee in the fact she didn't try to dismiss it.

Anyone who had just met her would have been terrified, but you knew that look meant she hated just how much you were right. Wednesday's moody eyes lowered to your jacket, as if she was looking for an insult to sling in response.

"Why are you yellow?"

You blinked, then shrugged. "Because for someone so intelligent I'm the only one who remembered a raincoat."

"The beast will eat you wether you're rained on or not," she replied reasonably.

You blanched at this. It was apparent the possibility had never crossed your mind. "It eats people????"

Suddenly the darkness of the woods only seemed to worsen and the rain seemed to come down even harder, as if life was laughing at the terror it was causing. You had never been one for haunted houses, and you decided in that instant that this was far worse than any haunted house you had ever been to.

Wednesday shrugged, and you were far from put at ease by that. She glanced at you up through mischievous lashes, entirely knowing what she was doing and enjoying every sadistic moment of it.

"I suppose we may find out tonight. I should offer up you, the yellow highlighter, first. You have longer bones than I do, and I'm sure it would appreciate a snack, after-"

"Ha. Ha."

As surprising as was Wednesday's capacity to joke, you knew that's all it was. Such falsehoods could not be exposed to the public, and she would rather die than admit she cared for anyone. That was her secret. You knew to keep it well.

It had been weird to see Wednesday attempt comedy at first. Often times you still thought she may be dead serious. But on these nightly expeditions it seemed she could joke freely. Sometimes she kissed you freely. You just had to know she didn't do it for you. She told you constantly, just to be sure.

From in front, Wednesday trembled from a sudden angry breeze and you watched her, sighing and tugging off your raincoat. You tossed it over her shoulders wordlessly; Wednesday didn't acknowledge it either. She put one arm in, then another, but didn't pull the hood up, and you rolled your eyes. "Pull the hood up, Wednesday. Don't be stubborn."

"I'm fine," she shot back, tone sharp and piercing to any sort of armour you could have put up. But even that didn't make you buy it.

"Your hair is like, stuck to your forehead, Wednesday. Just pull up the hood part."

"I don't even want to be in this dreadful thing, why would I want more of it on me. It's yellow."

"It's keeping you warm."

"I'm allergic to colours."

"Well then I guess it's great you brought a black one- oh, wait! That's right! You didn't."

She blinked at you unappreciatively, but your unimpressed expression made her give in, and she begrudgingly did as she was told. With a hood now over her, shrouding her soft hair from the harsh rain, you felt a bit better about her being out in the cold. After a moment she grumbled, messing with the sleeves. "Why are your arms so freakishly long?"

You didn't answer, biting back a response that included the word 'short.' It would have been entirely unproductive and probably earned a rock thrown at your head. Instead, you focused on the small row of houses you could see on a road in the far distance.

Their windows were small, warm boxes in the dryness, as opposed to the pouring, angry storm only a heathen of some sort would be caught in. It looked the same as it had the week before when you had passed the same area with Wednesday, and you recognised the same lamp that sat in the same spot of the same window on the second floor. It hadn't moved even an inch and neither had the flowers in the pot sitting next to it.

You hummed, "I love streets like those. It looks so warm and comfortable. I could be out here forever and it would still be the same warm place."

"Poetic," Wednesday dryly replied. Poetry had never seemed to move her much, beyond the grim ones from Poe about death and despair. She had tried to teach you about it once, during an impromptu "study session," which was what Wednesday usually called hunting you down after class and sticking your head between her legs.

It was the very first time she had let you stick around after, and the more and more often she let it happen, the more you felt yourself allowing for false hopes. Of course, accusing her of growing fond was a way to end up in an early grave and you knew better.

It had been a whisper, really, what she said with your head resting on her stomach, arms against the skin of her thighs. You were both sweating, terribly so, and then came, "years of love have been forgotten, in the hatred of a minute." It was only a whisper, and you weren't even sure Wednesday had spoken it into existence. But you looked up, and she was staring down at you, eyes unreadable. Her mouth was tensed into a grimace; a symbol for words unsaid.

"What's that?" You asked, leaning your head back.

She had shook her head. "It's Poe. He founded the school."

"I know who Edgar Allan Poe is, Wednesday. I meant what you were saying."

She looked away to the window, like eye contact then would have doomed her. "I'm not sure." It was a lie, and you knew it, but you couldn’t scan Wednesday’s thoughts and it was the first time she had let you stay propped up against her. You knew better than to ruin that.

"Why do you like that kind of poetry, anyhow? It's awfully depressing."

"It's a reminder," she replied, eyes still away and tone flat. "You and I will be in the ground someday, or maybe I will be in the family crypt. 'As you are now, so once, was I.' And other such ruminations. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Her gaze sliced back to you, as if she were gaging your reaction. "Either way, we're doomed."

You hadn't known what she meant by that, and you still didn't know, walking through the forest. She spoke in riddles, and it was impossible to know if she wanted you to decipher them or leave them as they were. Her vagueness with emotions was her armour, maybe.

Wednesday was usually cold and efficient and exact, in a way you could appreciate. You were far warmer, and though you seemed to constantly trip over yourself, patiently waiting for any sort of warmth to be returned, she stayed with the same chill that kept you close enough to bring comfort to her fingers, but never close enough to make her melt.

"When we get there, I want you to stay outside and keep watch. Don't come inside with me, I want to look around alone. If you hear anything or any noise or thoughts over the rain, give me the signal I trained you on," said Wednesday, looking through the bowers and thread veins of roots so as not to trip again.

"You're not my boss, Wednesday, and I'm not your henchman," you said, the words spilling out in annoyance. You hated when she went into work mode. She looked over at you, eyes giving an intense challenge.

"What am I then?"

You rolled your eyes at this. "Like my hobby, at best." It wasn't true, and both of you knew it.

"Do you kiss and sleep with all your 'hobbies,' then?" Wednesday's eyes studied you.

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I don't really kiss and tell." Actually, you hadn't kissed anybody since she had made out with you two days prior, and you hadn't kissed somebody other than her since she had first kissed you two months ago.

You knew, though, that Wednesday had done similar peregrinations with the normie boy, Tyler, from town who worked at the Weathervane. Sometimes you wondered if she put her lips on his, too. Other times, you couldn't help wondering if either of you really mattered to her.

She had said no when you asked her that once before, but slow danced and made out with you immediately after answering, at the Rave'N, so your confusion was understandable. It was like she both hungered for you and hated you for it at the same time, and you knew getting thrown around like that wasn’t what you wanted. But if it gave you her, even for a brief moment, you were all too eager.

From behind the both of you, you heard a branch snap, spinning around as the rain poured. There was nothing visibly there; your stupid flashlight didn't reach out that far and no moving through the brush could be heard. "Did you hear that?" you said to Wednesday, freezing completely. She nodded, but did not seem phased even slightly, turning to watch your terror with an eyebrow raised.

“Likely an animal," said Wednesday.

You were still frozen to the spot, staring into the dark as fear screamed at you to run away. “Are you okay?” she asked, puzzled.

You shook your head, sticking your hand out towards her. “No.” It was a question that needn't be asked. Wednesday examined your fingers closely, like she was contemplating if it was a bad idea, but then grabbed your palm and held it tightly in hers, locking the digits in with her own and squeezing it gently. It was an immediate comfort and you unfroze, Wednesday pulling you into the dark.

===+++===

"Your obnoxious coat is warm...thank you." She seemed to spit the last part out with a bit of reluctance, but you appreciated it nevertheless. For around the last half mile, you had been getting rained on instead. Droplets dripped from your hair, rolling down your cheeks and over your lips before dribbling from your chin.

"You can keep it for a while. Until you get your own, I mean," you said, absentmindedly playing with the flashlight. You would rather die than admit you were nervous aloud. Luckily, it didn't seem you needed to.

She stopped short at your words, grabbing your collar roughly with her hand and balling it between her fingers. It was harsh and it was passionate, like Wednesday always seemed to be in flares. Her mouth crashed into yours, teeth clinking together, toes poking into the mushy ground so she could even reach your face.

Unfortunately, it was over as soon as it began, and she pulled away quickly, walking away and leaving you behind, panting awkwardly as your mind began to spin. She was all too much, everything about her. You couldn’t stop yourself. "I love you,” you blurted out.

From the way she whipped back to you, it hadn’t been nearly quiet enough. Silence seemed to echo through the clearing, even in the raging storm around that pounded into trees and pooled in mushy puddles. She stared at you, and all you could do was stare back. Wednesday stomped back over, cheeks red and dark eyes shining with an unusual capriciousness. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”

But she didn’t believe you. In previous attempts by you to draw out any indication of her affections, she could blatantly ignore it or change the subject without answering. Now, she was frustrated by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. And this time, how your words demanded she do the same.

“What did you say,” she demanded. “Tell me right now, or I’ll-“

“I said I love you, Wends,” you cut her off before she could make a threat. God, she stared. She stared and stared and stared at you with her eyes in the dark, looking like she would be the one to read your mind and not the other way around. The humidity of the rain was suffocating you, but the powerful wind filled your lungs with air again, in a vicious, heaving cycle.

She took a small step forward, tilting her head up at you like she was inspecting you up close. “You don’t mean what you say.”

"I really wish I didn't, but I absolutely do." Your tone burned with a relieving candor, and Wednesday's eyebrows furrowed, before she backed away again. Your flashlight turned towards the ground, lowering your face into shadow.

"I told you, I don't want anything more from you," she said. "You're spoiling what we already have." She seemed more agitated than anything, but you stood your ground.

"But I feel like there's more here, Wednesday. I know I'm not crazy, you can feel it too. So I don't know why you're being all tough, when I just want to take care of you. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Learn to want for something else then," she argued back. "We can't work, we won't, I-"

"Why?"

"I told you why," she replied, crossing her arms. "Years of love-"

"No no, none of that bullshit you know you want to confuse me with. Just lay it out, plain and simple."

She bit her mouth shut, then narrowed her eyes at you before giving a huff. "Have you been reading my thoughts?"

"What?" Your forehead creased into lines, staring at her intently. "You know I don't."

"I don't know if you're aware, but I see you, in my visions sometimes. I actually think about the same one often, when I'm with you."

"What am I doing, then?" You asked, feeling a sickness come to your stomach. You didn’t know what future event you would be up to, but you could guarantee Wednesday you would stop yourself from hurting her.

“You’re being killed. By the beast.”

“…Oh.”

“You’re running far away, being chased. I see you get tackled or hit, and you fall into the dirt. Then I see your face being slashed over and over again by a creature, and you appear to bleed out on the floor of a forest.”

“Wednesday, that won’t come true.” You tried to assure her, but a small hand came forward, covering your mouth, shushing you. The gentle palm pressed against your soaked lips, fingertips ghosting the lines of your cheeks.

“I would hate you for it, dying. What I hate even more is that your closeness to me is likely what causes this. I don’t love you, (Y/n). I can’t. Stop trying to make me. It’s only pitiful and painful for the both of us.”

You reached up for her hand, pulling it away. “But how do you know it’s definitely you that ruins it? What if it’s something else, or what if it’s you saying no?”

“Because as painful as it is, I’m certain I break your heart if I indulge you.”

“Wednesday,” your voice shook a bit. “You’re breaking my heart right now.”

“This,” she said, “This is why I cannot give you more than I already have. I’m not my parents, (Y/n). Can’t you just be happy with our current relationship? You always try to complicate things. Like a stupid little puppy.”

You took a step back like a wounded animal. “What? You’re being mean.”

“Maybe if I am it'll get through to you. We won’t work, and if we don’t try to make it work, I won’t end up breaking your heart, and you won’t run away.” Her speaking volume was getting louder now.

“That’s a stupid plan!” You said raising your voice.

“And you’re a fool!” She said back. “I’m trying to protect you and take what I can get at the same time."

"You're hurting me."

"You're hurting yourself. I keep pushing you away. Stop coming back."

You frowned, feeling your face grow hot. "I come back because I care, and I know you care too."

"Caring for you gets me nowhere. You're doomed, (Y/n). I'm trying to protect you, so do us both a favour and get as far away from me as possible. Don't let me pull you back."

"Wednesday, I-"

"Go, you idiot." You swallowed her words. She was still wearing your yellow raincoat, looking at you with the most steely expression you had ever seen. You stepped forward in silence, only the mushing of the leaves filling the space between you. You unwrapped the armband of the flashlight from around your wrist and extended it out to her.

"Here. For the cave." She blinked at you, then she took it. Without another word, you did as you were told, stepping off into the dark and pulling against the magnetic field. With your ability to break past her facades turned off, you couldn't see the deep regret that wormed its way into her stare, watching your back retreat into the tree line.

===+++===

It only took around five minutes for you to regret not having the flashlight. The storm had turned to complete and utter chaos, and you could hear thunder and lightning booming and cracking against the night sky. Everything was so much darker than before, and it seemed to grow up and out like a giant ladder, turning to shadow and fog a few feet in front of you.

Part of you was still mad at Wednesday. Knowing she was scared for you didn't make it any of an easier pill to swallow. Neither did knowing you would likely die soon.

The looming question still sat unanswered, weighing down the wrinkles of your brain and cozying up at the mantle of your thoughts. Would it be weeks? Months? If she never ended up catching it (though that was very unlikely) how many years would you have left?

From behind you, you heard a branch snap again. You spun, looking around. An animal maybe. Then, you heard footsteps. They were big, though not an animal. Maybe it was Wednesday. She wore thick shoes often, with heavy soles.

It was only with the sudden realisation that there was no flashlight with the figure coming towards you, that your eyes began to widen and a chill shot up your spine like a spooked animal. It only took the dropping of your telepathic cancelling to fully realise what was about to happen.

KILL. KILL. KILL.

The monster's thinking was thunderous and loud, and it reverberated within your skull as you turned to run. You stomped your foot into the swampy ground, running the fastest you felt you ever had. KILL. The forest seemed to blur, rushing past you as you fled through the trees and smacking at branches that sagged in your way.

KILL. You heard the footsteps now, coming up quickly. They sounded huge, and with every bound you could hear greenery get smushed behind you as the beast moved through it. KILL. You had no idea how close it was behind you, but there was no time to look either. In one rush, you found yourself back in a stoney quarry, and in the far distance illuminated a KILL. streetlight standing over a mountain road.

You ran towards it, face scratched by a branch in the process as you forgot to swipe it away. The wood KILL. connected with a stabbing pain, piercing your lip as you ran, but you didn't so much as wince. "HELP!" You yelled KILL. out, trying to catch any attention as you ran for the pavement, and you were almost there. KILL.

You were too slow. A set of long, pointy claws latched onto your back, sinking into the skin and ripping you down with a yelp, throwing you to the ground. Your back slid into the tree with a sickening crack, and pain seemed to freeze your body. KILL.

Standing over you was the muscular, horrifyingly disfigured body of a towering creature, its eyes shining with violent zeal. It lowered with a clicking growl, eyeing your heaving, bleeding body and sneering. KILL. KILL. KILL.

Your eyebrows furrowed, blood spilling from your lips. In a single instant, you knew who it was, digging past the monstrous yells to the real thoughts of the boy underneath. "Tyler?"

Its claws sunk into your stomach, and everything went dark.

===+++===

a/n: a part two maybe? idk, i'm no rocket scientist. anyways, this is my very first post, so, here we go i guess? excited to start this and grateful for anyone who reads this. i tried to spellcheck but if it isn't perfect please please please let me know, i would fix it immediately.

[star-stilinski]

stiles with virgin reader? maybe she's like insecure or like is just scared he'll look at her differently 😩😩 everytime i watch the eichen house basement scene i literally die because he is so sweet and gentle and GHRHHSHEHDH

okay so i actually have that written from before i deleted my blog... would you guys want me to write another?! i'll repost the one i have but this concept is really super fun to me and i like writing it a lot so... maybe you guys would want to see more?? anyway here's the old one!

☆

yep, stiles is perfect. dominant, but just to guide you. observant and overly educated (he once spent an all nighter researching female pleasure and orgasms. he stayed a virgin for a long time after, but at least he knew!). he wants you to feel good.

i feel like he had a conversation with allison once when she was really frustrated with scott where she basically ranted about how he was great in bed, really, but he sometimes got too excited and forgot about her until later. or his wearwolfness made him a bit rough. stiles just kinda stood there, but he was determined to keep that from being his reviews when he finally got laid. it was very educational.

set right before season 4.

you're reading up on the spanish mafia on your bed while stiles types away on his computer with one hand and breaks to texts scott with the other. he seems to be especially stimulated today.

"i think my excuse will be that we're camping." he mumbles randomly, setting his phone down face-up to take a swig from your water bottle. you frown. he smiles. "when we go get derek."

"for your dad?" you set the library book on the floor and scoot up on your bed, sitting back against the pillows.

"yeah. he's all worried i'm isolating myself after... everything. so he'll like that anyway. hey, scott invited us to the lake later tonight, wanna go?" your boyfriend talks so quick you almost get dizzy. that subject change was so stiles though, and seeing him as himself after those worrying days of the possessed, zombie-eyed shell of a man he was makes your chest feel fuzzy.

but at the mention of swimming, you glance away from him. you hadn’t been feeling super awesome about your body lately. It’s just… stiles is amazing, really, but he never says much about your looks and you’re scared he’s not into that part of you. It’s not like you need to be constantly hit on, but knowing that he wanted you in every way would be… well, it would make you feel better than you do.

so you hesitate, at the thought of being in a swimsuit in front of everyone. “uh, i dunno, i have a lot of homework.”

he laughs and his eyebrows shoot up. "what? we got ahead on, like, everything. did you fall behind again?”

"okay, first off, we did not get ahead on everything. we did everything due this week. you’re just used to waiting until the night before to rush through. second of all, i’m not really feeling the lake right now.”

“why not?” he frowns, tilting his head at you. you roll your neck and sigh, wishing you hadn’t said anything. It was so annoying to try and explain it.

“i mean…” you shift uncomfortably on your bed. “i don’t know. i’m just feeling weird lately.”

stiles stands, grabbing a stray pen to fiddle with as he stretches his legs, pacing your bedroom floor. "yeah, that's what you say, don't you? that you’re feeling ‘weird’.”

"you're weird." you deflect, watching him pace. he likes it when you do that, you both realized one day a long time ago when his hair was buzzed and you had braces. a lot has changed since then, but he still liked to know that you’re listening when he has to move around.

"and yet here you sit, after inviting me over to listen to me ramble." he teases back, throwing you a look before turning to walk the other side of the floor. he scans the pictures and posters on your wall, back turned to you. "seems like my weird is good weird and yours is bad weird."

you're thankful he isn't watching as you flush a light pink color in the cheeks. it's the stupidest stuff getting you flustered recently. the other day he said 'atta girl' to you and you were still blushing ten minutes later. kira actually thought you were sick. 

you know why. Part of you just wants to ask him, but a larger part of you assumes that -even as his girlfriend- he’ll be grossed out if you asked to have sex. He’s just not into you like that.

stiles swivels around to look at you, frowning curiously. "you went quiet."

"oh, um," you shift on the bed and fiddle with the hem of your shirt. he watches you do so with a look on his face before stepping closer to the edge of the bed while you scramble to remember what you were talking about. "your weird is tolerable weird."

he smirks and scoffs but it's kind of a laugh, one that makes your stomach swoop pleasantly. "what makes yours bad weird?"

"it’s nothing, sti’.” you fiddle with one of your stuffed animals, growing antsy under his gaze. “just thoughts.”

you feel the bed dip beside you as stiles sits, feeling his shoulder brush with yours. there's plenty of room on the bed. you know he did it on purpose.

"i like to know your thoughts.”

"yeah, well, sometimes i prefer to keep them in my head." you huff, still not looking at him. “and anyway, they’re just-”

"weird?" he interrupts and you look up at him. he's smirking, brows up, eyes sparkly.

you frown at his cockiness. you were going to say weird, but still. you can hear him silently asking you to elaborate.

"you’re not allowed to get all pitying, okay?" you feel yourself about to spill anyway, so you might as well tell him. it would usually take a lot more encouragement for you to say anything, but it's stiles and he's using his stupid pretty eyes on you and you trust him with your life. “lately i just feel kinda… just like, um, not great, i guess? i’m just scared i’m not doing enough for you, or something’s wrong with me because you never say anything about my looks and i dont need you to, but if you’re unsatisfied i want to change that because i want you to be happy in every area to do with me.”

stiles is silent for a moment. you look up and catch him look away from you. he frowns and looks back, meeting your gaze head on.

"that's not weird.” he says, quietly, brows upturned. “you… wow, you’re dense.”

you laugh abruptly at the jab stiles pulled, embarrassed. "stiles! I’m not upset or anything, i just dont want you to not be into the way i look. which might be unrealistic, i guess. not everyone is going to be physically attracted to me. that's fine."

"you say that a lot." his tone drops to something more thoughtful. you give him a face and tilt your head.

"what? no i don't."

"yeah, you do. 'oh, well, lydia's the beauty out of all of us anyway.' 'malia, you should dance with kira to blend in. that would be casual and guys will find you two hot, anyway.' 'that isn't my color.' 'i'm breaking out.' 'i'm bloated.' 'i don't think anyone would want to see me in something that revealing.'"

you feel heat crawl up your neck as he quotes stuff you've said the past few weeks. you scramble to make him wrong. "stiles, literally all of those were different sentences."

"no, they were not." he shifts, like he's revving up to explain something. you press yourself against the pillows to create space between you two. he notices. "you keep saying you think you're ugly. just the other day, a girl you didn't even know came up to you and said you were pretty and when she walked away you said she was lying. i remember, you were convinced. thought it was just to be nice because you had let her cut you in line for drinks. it was at the movies."

you look away from him, narrowing your eyes. you're embarrassed right now, and he knows. why isn't he stopping? "she was lying, stiles. you're a guy, you can't see that stuff like girls do."

"i'm a guy, i'm not blind." he gets hotter in his voice. both in tone and in attractiveness, getting sterner. saying 'i'm right' without saying it. "are you blind? you're so pretty. like, objectively."

"stiles, can you drop this? I shouldn’t have said anything." you curl in on yourself, drawing your knees up to hide your body. you feel so exposed, like he tugged the part of you out that you don't really like to talk about.

stiles goes soft. like a flip being switched, he loses his fight and shifts to face you better, placing a hand on your knee. "hey, i'm sorry."

you desperately want to go back to when he was a safe distance away and pacing your room and teasing you. you hate it when you ruin the mood with your feelings. you hate how much you love it when he touches you, especially since he'd never want you the way that you want him.

"it's fine, i promise." you claw around your brain for something to change the subject, but you feel it short circuit as stiles' hand begins to hold your cheek. he lifts your chin to look at him. you feel your cheeks flame hot and your whole body warm at his touch. you stare at him as you feel your resolve practically melt away.

"do you think you're pretty?" he asks, curiously. like you're something he doesn't fully understand yet, but he's on his way and he's getting excited to speed up the process. it makes you nervous.

"umm... i don't know..." you don't think so. you're very confident that you're ugly. but telling stiles that is letting him win. and you don't know what you'll do with a cocky stiles when he's already ballsy enough to corner you like he is now.

"i do." he says with finality. stiles gets closer and his hand leaves your cheek, only to part your legs gently and crawl in between them. "i think you’re hot. and pretty. and when you focus you nibble your lip and it kinda makes me want to pin you to the nearest flat surface and eat you out.”

now your legs are on either side of stiles and he's leaning over you, eyes roaming over your face hungrily. you stutter dumbly for a moment, face flushed and feeling like a cornered bunny getting stared down by a wolf. his scent becomes stronger and you resist the urge to ask him to do just that, opting instead for feeling like a gross creep and fretting if you’ve shaved well enough.

"you don’t have to say that..." you trail off, still flustered at stiles' boldness. "i just didn't really know what you thought about my looks, i guess. b-but i guess that’s kinda conceited, huh?" you laugh weakly at your joke. stiles doesn't laugh at all. instead, he watches you quietly for a moment, a hand landing on your knee again.

"i don’t say anything because i never want you to feel uncomfortable." he states breathily. you squirm under him as he leans forward, a determined look in his eyes. “do you want me to tell you what i think about you?”

"stiles, c'mon." you turn your head away. maybe you can resist this question by acting pathetic. it's not really working, and stiles just gently guides your chin so that you're looking at him again. he knows the answer. he kinda has to, doesn't he? otherwise he wouldn't be doing this.

"I want to hear you say it." he looks into your eyes like it would actually literally kill him if you said no. you feel that rush you get when he talks like this, all quiet and deep like he's breathless. and despite you thinking that stiles thought of you as a low-physicality girlfriend, you find yourself nodding slightly.

"yes, i do."

stiles sighs out like you just healed every one of his wounds and leans forward, shifting himself so that he's propped on his hands and knees above you. one hand moves to your waist and the other holds his weight as he leans down.

the kiss sends a spark down your spine. as he goes back in again, kissing you harder, deeper, gently guiding your mouth open, you think it's better than any other kiss you've experienced. his hand inches your shirt up to reveal your stomach and he pulls back.

"you're beautiful. okay? i feel like you're not hearing me. i want you to see it." he says, still upset about that. you're still a bit flustered by the quick change of events, so you don’t respond.

he frowns at your lack of response but it softens as your hands slide onto his neck, pulling him down again. he smiles and goes back in for another kiss.

this one's even more than the last. stiles' tongue... well, it works. that's all you can describe as he makes you gasp in surprised pleasure from just a kiss. you can feel his slightly cocky smirk as he kisses again, but it gets lost when you rake your nails lightly against the back of his neck. he manuvers you both further down the bed so you're laying more comfotably and kisses you deeply again, like he can't get enough. 

he presses his knee up against your core as you kiss and it sends a pulse of pleasure up your body, making you pinch your brows. stiles pulls back abruptly, and you're both panting. you can see your spit making his lips glisten prettily and you want to hide under the covers and pull him back into you at the same time.

"hey," stiles dawns a little smile. it's sweet, and when he tugs at the hem of your shirt gently your heart flutters. "can i take this off?"

you pause at that. if he takes your shirt off, he'll have to see you shirtless. you didn't wear a nice bra today, just the grey t-shirt bra you got at walmart. but he wants to see you shirtless. and you want to see him shirtless.

then again, you’re no pornstar-level body. maybe stiles will be disappointed. or laugh. no, no, he won’t laugh. but if he doesn’t like it, he won’t say anything, and you’ll be stuck wondering what he’s thinking again...

"i can hear you overthinking, you know." stiles' big palm lands on your bare waist, his thumb rubbing your skin softly. "we can stop if you want."

you meet his eyes. he looks like he really means it, like he'll pretend none of this happened if you asked. his hand leaves your waist, cups your cheek, and his thumb presses against your bottom lip softly. you breathe in. "i don't want to stop."

he nods, smiling. it's crooked and you almost giggle because of course stiles is excited to keep making out. and then his gaze shifts and he takes his hand off your cheek to tug on your shirt again. his brows lift in question.

"uhm, yeah." you nibble your lip. fuck it. "take it off."

"that was not enthusiastic enough."

"i-?! don't blame me if you don't like what you see! i just don't want you to be unimpressed!" you squeak defensively. he laughs and pulls you up just enough to lift your shirt off.

"you can be so obtuse sometimes." he mumbles as he tosses your shirt out of the way. you're propped up on your forearms when he turns back around and you can practically hear the breaks in his brain screech to a halt.

his eyes roam your body in a way that makes you flush and his hands aren't much better, spreading over your now-exposed middle like they have a mind of their own. he lets out a breath and blinks a few times, one hand sliding up to cup your bra. “s’ this okay?”

you swallow and nod. it is. really. you like the way stiles’ hands feel on you and how his eyes track over you like he wants to devour you but doesn’t want to hurt you. you like how eager he is to touch you. it makes you feel like maybe he really wants to.

he leans over you and presses a kiss to your neck. you tilt your head back on instinct as he grows more persistent, pressing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and nibbling your neck to pull a sound out of you. you gasp when he nibbles your earlobe and he reacts positively, hands getting more confident as he cups your breasts or you waist or whatever he can get ahold of.

you feel him press his knee up against you again and it makes you jolt momentarily. your thoughts are getting hazier, you feel yourself relaxing every second you spend underneath him. his hand travels up your back and finds your bra clasp and he kisses down your collarbone as he undoes it.

“you’re so pretty.” he starts, pulling back. you blink up at him as he sits over you. “you are, I don’t care what you think. I can’t believe you’re so convinced otherwise.”

he pauses, giving you time to reject him or tell him to stop or do anything. instead, you tug at his shirt, pulling it up.

he takes it off immediately and you press your hands against his bare skin. “stiles, i’ve never done anything before. I’m not gonna be good.”

he scoffs and shakes his head, toying with your loose bra strap. it’s still on, unclasped. he’s waiting.

“you’re doing so good right now, idiot.” he hums affectionately as he traces the seam of your bra, fingers brushing your breast. you suck in a breath. he watches your chest rise. “i’ve, um, thought about this before. a lot. and it’s ten times better having you under me than daydreaming about it.”

you blush at that. he traces the underside of your breast, fingers slipping under your bra to feel your skin. “I want to make you feel good.” he whispers, meeting your eyes. you nod slowly, fingers running along his abdomen as you admire him.

“you do?” you ask, as if he wasn’t practically pinning you to the bed already. he nods eagerly and it spurs you on. you shift, slowly pulling your bra off. he helps you and tosses it away with your shirt, but his eyes never leave you. instead, they dart all over your chest, hands cupping your tits. he sighs and his thumbs swipe over your pebbling nipples, making you squeak in shock.

“you’re so beautiful. ‘m gonna make you believe it, okay?” he says with finality, maneuvering so that he can kiss your breasts. you gasp when his tongue flicks over your nipple and he pulls up just to envelop your mouth. “you sound so pretty. just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

you’re embarrassed at how easy it is for you to make noise and how eager you are to listen to his instructions. you sink into the pillows and let your eyes flutter shut as stiles kisses you. it's soft and slow, but it makes you a puddle anyway.

stiles gets the both of you down to your underwear shortly after. his hands are incessantly gentle and when he does something new he leaves a sort of gap for you to tell him to stop.

you never do.

he's mouthing at your neck when he first presses his long fingers against your clothed clit, and you sigh lightly in relief. the pressure was more than enough and you had completely soaked through your panties anyway. he pulls away from your neck to watch you as he rubs a slow circle against your nerves, humming in approval when your lips part and your brows pinch.

"does that feel good?" he questions quietly, still rolling a circle against you with his middle finger. you nod and hear him swallow as his eyes roam from your exposed tits to your wet spot and everywhere in between, locking eyes with you at the end.

"i can't wait to hear you. you're gonna sound so good." he mumbles, mostly to himself as he slowly pulls your panties off. you whine in embarrassment and cover your face with your hand.

"don't say stuff like that!" you huff, scrubbing your face like it will make the blushing subside. "you're getting your hopes up."

"jesus christ." he groans, and it sounds super fucking hot. you peek through your fingers and see him looking at you like you've wounded him. "you've exceeded every single one of my very high hopes i've been getting off to since freshman year so far. you-i mean, look at what you're doing to me."

he gently takes the hand you're using to cover your face and guides it against his bulge. he's hard as a rock, and when you press your hand against him he tilts his head back and sighs out. "seriously, you're so gorgeous. and you're a great kisser. you're doing so good. i mean..."

with your panties off and him in between your legs, he has easy access as he slides two fingers through your slick. you can both hear it in the quiet of the room and you feel that heat rush of embarrassment again, eyes widening as he literally moans. "you're so wet. just for me."

and as he presses his finger to your clit, it feels ten times better than it did with your panties on. you gasp and your eyes flutter closed as you whimper "god," completely on accident. his hands aren't amazingly skillful, but the way he watches your reactions and tweaks his performance, fucking a finger into you and keeping his pace on your bundle of nerves-it's almost hotter than a guy who isn't looking to improve, because stiles is adjusting things to your preference. not just what every woman would generally like.

"how's it feel, pretty girl?" he hums against your stomach, kissing down your body. you don't know what the hell he's doing but most of your mental focus is on how stiles is making you feel, anyway.

"feels good, sti'," you gasp, feeling his mouth against your thigh. he moans when you say his name before sucking a hickey onto your inner thigh. your eyes snap open and you prop yourself up to look at him, eyes wide. "are you leaving a mark?"

stiles looks up at you, and then at your neck, and then your tits. he pulls away from your skin slowly and mumbles "uhm..."

"whatever, just... don't make it ugly. hickeys can look so weird." you flop back against the pillows and sigh, but your thoughts are cut short as stiles-

"oh, fuck," you moan, rolling your hips against stiles' tongue unconsciously as he presses his mouth on your clit. he flicks his tongue and you gasp out another moan, hips lifting.

his big hands land on your bare hips and press them back down, holding them there as he looks up at you. meanwhile, his tongue is laying claim on you in a way no one ever has, and he's making you feel better than you ever have. you sit up on your forearms to watch him and he sucks on your clit, making your eyes roll back. "stiles, oh god, that feels really good-"

he moans at your noises, mouth moving with more fervor against you, hands pulling you closer to him. he's doing everything perfectly, or so you thought, until he pulls a hand away from your hip and presses two fingers inside of you. it's a stretch, but it feels amazing, and your brain is fried as you feel yourself hurtling towards that edge-

and then he pulls back.

you look down at the speed of light, glaring at him on accident. "wha-? why-?"

his eyes are dark, something you haven't seen in them before. his mouth is covered in your arousal and he's sitting up, leaning over you. "i really want you to finish with me inside you. does... is that...?"

your previous annoyance falls away and you bob your head enthusiastically. "yeah. yes. please."

he grins and licks some of your slick off of his lips before kissing you sweetly. when he pulls back, you look down to take his boxers off but realize he took them off already. you also realize you've never seen stiles' dick before.

"your staring is making me nervous." he teases, rubbing your thigh. you blink and look back up at him, smiling sheepishly. he smiles back, and it's crooked, and he's tilting his head and panting and sometimes his eyes are wandering to your tits before snapping back up to your eyes. and.

"you're the hottest guy in the whole world, i think." you hum, reaching up to cup his cheek. his eyes go wide and he laughs, kissing your palm.

"is my dick that big?"

"not what i meant."

"it could be."

you laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. "'s it gonna hurt?"

his eyes go soft, a bit worried. "proabably for a second, but we'll go at your pace so you can stretch out properly, and if it's too much i can just finish the way i started, kay?"

you nod. stiles would never, ever hurt you. and with the way he's looking at you and how he moans when you feel good and how his hands always have to find a way to pleasure you... something in you switches and you realize he really wants you to like this. that he's being honest when he says he's thought about it a lot.

so as he quickly rolls on a condom (which included him admitting that he usually grabs one before he leaves to see you) and presses into you -slowly, slowly- you try your best to relax against the pillows. it's not unbearable, but you have to ask him to pause sometimes. he always does, and layers praises on top of each other while he does it.

"you're doing so well. just breathe, okay? just like that. holy shit, you feel amazing- b-but how do you feel? you alright?" he rambles halfway inside. you nod, breathing deeply.

"it actually feels... good..." you close your eyes and pull on his waist, urging him forward slowly. he bottoms our and gasps out a moan at the same time you do, feeling him reach the spot you're never able to. his hand snakes in between the two of you and presses against your clit. you gasp out his name, tilting your head back. it's almost too much.

almost.

as you urge him to move, he presses slow circles against your bundle of nerves and kisses any patch of your bare skin he can get ahold of.

"just relax, baby- fuck, god, you know how may times i've thought about this?" he pulls out slowly and pushes back in, and all of his stimulating mixed with his moans and his words... he's doing a good fucking job, that's for sure.

you moan when he moves a little quicker, gasping. he presses his tongue into your open mouth and kisses you sloppily, going a bit faster with every thrust. you whine when he flicks your clit almost crudely, pressing your head back against the mattress and gasping, "faster, sti'"

he obeys without further encouragement, snapping his hips a little quicker than comfortable. you feel your body adjust and watch stiles as he leans back to admire you.

his eyes rake over you, one hand cupping your breast and kneading it softly. he lets out a higher pitched moan than you've heard from him when he sees the point where your bodies connect, slowing his thrusts just to watch. "you're perfect, i swear to god."

you can't respond, not when he's already leaning down to overstimulate your nipples. your brain feels like it's in the other room and has been replaced with stiles' hands, almost solely focused on his kneading of your tits and his circling of your clit. his mouth makes its way back up your neck and he kisses you again, still with very little concern for the proprieties of it.

it's sudden, the feeling that crawls up on you as his hips snap quicker and praise falls from his mouth in between kisses. you gasp for air and tug his head back by pulling his hair, causing a loud moan from him that you'll have to unpack later. you're arching your back, whimpering "faster, faster," squeezing your eyes shut as you feel that sweet release low in your belly. he speeds up his hips, but more importantly his fingers on your clit. your vision goes white for a split second as you cry out, chanting his name like a prayer. you hear him moaning too, and it only helps you as he rides you through your orgasm.

"holy shit," you gasp as you come down. he nods, pulling out of you carefully, and you both lock eyes. you're smiling and he's kissing you and everything feels kind of perfect for a split second. then you remember him, and feel like an idiot. "oh, did you, i totally forgot, did you-"

"don't worry," he laughs sheepishly and glances away from you. "i did. it was, um, when you pulled me away from kissing you."

"when i pulled your hair?" you ask incredulously. he buries his face into your neck and groans.

"maybe we should focus on you again." he kisses up your neck and all over your face. "you did so good, you're so perfect and pretty and oh my god you thought i wasn't attracted to you. you're so out of it sometimes."

"stop insulting me! you never said anything!" you defend, slapping his shoulder. he laughs and cups your face.

"i'm going to say every thought i have now. okay?"

"i feel like this isn't going to end well..."

he grins mischievously. "you look so good when you're cumming. let me make you make that face again?"

you close your eyes and sigh. "yeah, i knew it. this is going to be the death of me."

he laughs, loudly, excitedly, and kisses you. "it's funny how you think death will help. i bet you'd be a sexy ghost. oh, fuck, now i'm thinking about that. yep, it's hot."

you shout and push him off of you, laughing.

☆

when i wrote this originally, i wasn't super happy with it. even now i'm like... ehhh.... i dunno.... so if you guys want more of stiles with virgin/inexperienced reader, i have a lot of ideas and would totally post some if given the 'okay' from my fellow stiles lovers! let me know!!

(please say you want more because i want to make more lowkey tho just lowkey like idec but please)

[dirtyvulture]

Envy and Venom - Part 2

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4911

AN: Didn't think I'd write this, but the opportunity was too good to let pass. :)

Click here for Part 1!

DAY 2

“I can’t believe you,” Tony says, watching as you anxiously like a caged animal. “I mean, I can, because Romanoff is smoking hot, but really? On your first day?”

“I didn’t know who she was!” you snap, your stomach churning in knots. You hadn’t been able to eat breakfast, even ignoring the hot black coffee your secretary Wanda had waiting for you like usual when you arrived to the office.

“Literally the daughter of the guy of our biggest rival,” Tony says, clearly only trying to make you feel worse than you already feel.

“I know who he is!” you bark, well familiar with Alexei Shostakov, the enormous, bearded and beer-bellied Russian who had once been on the board of directors at Envy Industries. Alexei was long gone from your dad’s company by the time you entered the scene, and at that point had formed Black Widow Corporation into a juggernaut. Word on the street was that Alexei used “unconventional methods” to stay ahead of competitors and now you wondered if you had fallen right into one of those traps. 

“Why was Romanoff even at the party in the first place?” you ask.

“Why do you think?” Tony scoffs. “Daddy probably sent her to mess with you and no offense…but it worked.”

“We don’t know that,” you defend, although your gut is telling you that Tony is right. 

“So, what did you tell her?” Tony asks, kicking his chair back to wobble on its hind legs.

“Nothing!” You sigh, your brain scrambling to remember your interaction with Natasha before you took her up to your suite. “Uh, I mean…I mentioned the contract we have with Tesla. But a bunch of other people probably overhead too, and that’s not exactly a secret anymore.”

“Mhmm, sure. Anything else?” Tony prompts.

“No. No, nothing else,” you say with an edge of uncertainty. “There wasn’t really much time for talking, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know you, you horndog.” He waves at you.

For once, you feel immensely guilty about not being able to control your behavior. This wouldn’t be the first time you had to face the consequences of the people you chose to take to bed with you, but none had been this jarring or dangerous. You feel used, even though you truly hadn’t revealed any company secrets to Natasha. Just the thought that she knew who you were, and wasn’t honest with you about herself, made your whole interaction with her feel slimy and fake. While you also knew it was ridiculous to think that you were in love with someone you just met, even you won’t deny there had been some kind of spark between you two, but perhaps it had all been manufactured. 

You genuinely want to see Natasha again, hopefully in more honest circumstances, and not just purely for the physical pleasure of it. You knew she was one of the few women on Earth who truly understood your line of work. She didn’t need to pretend (or even study ahead) like some of the partners you had in the past. She was beautiful and smart and managed to turn you into a stuttering, whipped mess in less than ten minutes. No one else had ever been able to do that, and as humbling as it was, it was also hot as hell.

“What am I supposed to do now?” you ask, pulling at the suffocating collar of your shirt. 

“First of all, don’t see her ever again,” Tony responds, and it sounds like he’s telling you you’re not allowed to breathe anymore.

“Fuck,” you grumble, because you know he’s right, but it won’t be that easy to just forget about Natasha. 

“Seriously, Y/N,” Tony goes on. “You have a whole company to run now. Let the media say what they want, but promise me that you won’t be caught with that woman ever again.”

“Caught, you say?” you tease, knowing that he would always offer you a way out.

“I know you,” he repeats. “Besides, I heard she has a sister.”

You laugh, the tense mood lightening considerably. “Yeah, sure, I’ll put in a good word for you when I see her again.”

“You’re the best.” Tony stands up to give you a high-five.

***********************************************************************

Natasha hums to herself as she opens her laptop. She plugs in her headphones and boots up the application that is connected to the microphone she slipped into your jacket pocket. Over 12 hours of audio have already been recorded. Just out of curiosity, she scrolls to the first hour.

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.”

Natasha feels her core light up with desire as she remembers the previous night with you. It had been a long time since she had been fucked so well and you certainly lived up to the hype. When she closes her eyes, she can still remember how your body had felt against hers, the way your muscles flexed in warning when you were about to finish but were waiting for her permission, the intoxicating taste that coated her tongue and had her (quite literally) demanding more and more from you.

“Hey, sestra.” Yelena walks in without knocking, and Natasha’s eyes snap open, tearing off her headphones and closing the audio application.

“What?” she growls, annoyed by the interruption.

Yelena smirks at her. “How was the party last night?”

“Good.”

Yelena doesn’t look convinced. “Did you see that TMZ article?”

“Anyone who relies on that hack as a legitimate source of information is just setting themselves up for disappointment.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” Yelena states, walking up to Natasha and showing her her phone. 

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff 

Below the headline is a grainy photo of her almost sitting on your lap, both of your heads leaned close together. 

“What’s your point?” Natasha asks, pushing Yelena’s phone away from her face.

“Did Dad approve of this?”

“What does his approval have to do with anything?” Natasha snaps. “I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want–”

“We’re not stupid, Natasha,” Yelena frowns. “And you aren’t either. You aren’t getting mixed up with just anyone, this is the CEO of Envy Industries–”

Natasha waves her hand. “Just stop, Yelena. I know what I’m doing, okay? And I’m the one who’s going to take over the company when Dad steps down, so I need to make sure that we are on top and stay that way.”

Yelena’s expression softens. “Just be careful, sestra. You don’t know what some of these people are capable of.”

“Like Y/N?” Natasha laughs. “She’s just a big rich idiot. I could steal her entire company right from under her nose and she’d just go fill her bed with Victoria’s Secret models and forget it by the next morning.”

“Please be careful, Nat,” Yelena begs. “Do not forget what happened last time–”

“That was in the past. I know better now,” Natasha dismisses, although the hair on the back of her neck rises at the memory. She had been too cocky, too arrogant, and nearly lost her life as a result. But she was certain that wouldn’t happen with you. She had you eating out of the palm of her hand even before the mind-blowing sex. You’d happily hand her the keys to Envy Industries if she promised you five minutes in bed. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Natasha gruffs, turning back to her computer. “Close the door on your way out.”

Yelena doesn’t respond and backtracks. Natasha waits until she hears the click of her door to open the files on her flash drive that contains the data stolen from your systems. None of your files are even password-protected. Maybe your company was even more of a joke than she thought.

***********************************************************************

DAY 14

Tesla backs out of contract with Envy Industries, reportedly in talks with Black Widow Corporation for GPUs

DAY 15

Envy Industries (ENVY) stock drops 15%

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) stock up 10%

DAY 18

Tesla hires Black Widow Corporation to produce hardware for upcoming Model 2

DAY 24

Black Widow Corporation announces AI supercomputer project

DAY 30

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) joins the Magnificent Seven stocks, knocking Envy Industries (ENVY) out

“You need to fix this. Now.”

“I’m trying!” you practically sob, staring at the same headline on your computer that your father is looking at. 

Your first 30 days as CEO had been an absolute whirlwind–of defeats. First, an intern at Tesla had called you to tell you the deal was off. And then to hear that they were taking up business with Black Widow Corporation was like a sucker punch to the gut. No one at your company could understand how Black Widow suddenly had the technology you’d been working on for months, but a nagging feeling in the back of your head told you that you were the only person who knew the answer.

But you couldn’t be one-hundred-percent sure. After all, you had spent one night with Natasha Romanoff, most of it in bed with her getting your brains fucked out. But she had left even before you woke up, and there was no way to confirm if she had managed to get her hands on the confidential information that your company was built upon.

Whatever had happened, Envy Industries was on a steady decline ever since you had taken over and it was not a good feeling. The stock prices were tanking and now you had lost your spot amongst the prized “Magnificent Seven”–also known as the seven highest-valued companies in the United States. It was embarrassing, shameful, and upsetting. The board of directors were having daily meetings about your leadership qualities and you were worried they would boot you from the position any day now. Your father still had some influence, despite stepping down, but with the way he was speaking to you now, you weren’t sure he was going to defend you anymore.  

“I don’t care how Black Widow Corp got the intel. They have it now and we can’t get it back. You need to raise security protocols and if anyone is caught leaking information, they will be publicly humiliated and sued to kingdom come,” your dad rages through the phone. 

“Yes, yes, I agree,” you say.

“You need to focus on recovering from this. What’s done is done. But if you let it get worse, there will be severe consequences. For the company, for its future, and for you.”

“Yes. Yes, Dad,” you gulp.

“Stop fucking around and get your shit together,” he says. “You have a reputation that precedes you and thousands of people are depending on you to see them through this. Envy will come back. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you repeat hollowly, not even convinced of your own words.

“Good girl. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay. Bye, Dad.” You hang up and put your phone face-down on your desk, staring once more at the headline. For the first time, you don’t feel sad, you feel angry. You want to lash out at something–someone. Preferably the person or persons who put you in this predicament. You didn’t deserve this. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But one thing was for certain: you weren’t going to mope around and let them continue to take advantage of you.

There’s a heavy knock on your door.

“Hey, Y/N. Ready for lunch?” It’s Tony.

“Sure. Give me a minute.” You whip your burgundy blazer off the back of your chair with more force than necessary; it gets twisted upside-down and something falls out of the pocket. You squat to pick it up. It’s a black, small, flat circular device that blinks red and there’s tiny little ridges in the center to indicate some kind of microphone.

What the hell is this? you think. You look back at your burgundy jacket. It’s the same one you were wearing the day you were made CEO, the night you met Natasha Romanoff. It wasn’t your most worn jacket, making the occasional appearance if you felt it complimented the rest of your outfit, but spending most of its time hanging in the front of your closet.

A disturbing thought enters your head. This little device couldn’t be what you thought it was, right? But you knew tech better than most people. And you knew that Black Widow Corporation had somehow gotten ahold of confidential information that was causing catastrophic damage to your company.

It takes all of five seconds to formulate a plan. 

You slip the audio recorder back into your pocket and put your jacket on.

Two could play at this game.

“Hey, Tony. Where are we going for lunch?” you call out, trying to keep your voice flat and clear.

“The steakhouse!” But his voice is muffled through the door.

“The steakhouse? The one on 6th Avenue, right?” you ask.

“Unless you suddenly have a new favorite that’s not on 6th,” he grumbles.

“Nope, that’s fine. Let me go check on something in the lab and I’ll be ready.”

***********************************************************************

“What’s wrong with you? Did they get your order wrong?” Tony asks as you poke at the slab of beef on your plate. 

“I’m just not really hungry,” you say. “You know, since our whole company is falling apart and everything.”

“Well, it’s still standing the last time I checked.” You appreciate how straightforward Tony is. Granted, he isn’t under the same kind of pressure as you, but you need someone who can be this cool under pressure in your life. “And I know you can’t be productive on an empty stomach. Should we order those crab legs you like?” 

“No more food please,” you mumble, pushing your plate away from you. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hurry back. Or I’ll order the whole appetizer menu!”

“Okay, whatever.” But you smile as you walk away from the table to the back. You look at your reflection in the gold gilded mirror, noticing the clear stress lines in your forehead, the darkness under your eyes, the way your cheeks are more hollowed in because you aren’t eating your usual 4,000 calories a day.

You rinse your hands in the sink and pat water on your face. You hear the door open behind you and your heart starts pounding faster. Had your plan worked?

“What’s wrong, honey?” Her voice snaps you to attention, velvety and seductive just like how you remember hearing it the first time. You turn to see Natasha Romanoff leaned against the wall, wearing a white blouse ready to burst at its buttons along with black slacks and towering heels. Her hair loosely bounces on her shoulders and her exposed wrists and neck are adorned with more jewelry than you can count. 

“You,” you growl, striding over to her in three big steps and glaring down at her. “Are we adding stalker charges to your growing list of crimes now?”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha tilts her head to the side dumbly. “I’m here for lunch, just like you. A coincidence isn’t a crime–”

You pull the little audio device out of your pocket. Natasha’s eyes widen for a second before she quickly turns her expression into one of defiance, but she’s already given away her familiarity. “So this is how you’ve been stealing all of our ideas, huh?” you ask. 

“You have no proof that came from me,” she objects.

“I guess not.” You toss the device to the floor and stomp on it so hard with your Gucci loafers that it crumbles with an audible crunch. “And now we’ll never know. But now you’ll have to leave alone for a little bit, right? You have to give us some time to come up with more ideas for you to steal–”

“It’s nothing personal,” Natasha insists. “Business is business, isn’t it?”

“Well, once you put my reputation at risk–” You move one step closer until your chests almost bump. “–My future at risk–” You lower your head until you’re practically breathing on her face. Natasha doesn’t shy away. In fact, you think you see a glint of triumph in her green eyes. “–It becomes very, very personal.”

The tension between you is so thick it’s suffocating. You refuse to break eye contact with Natasha, but you’re not even sure what your next move should be. You know that you should hate this woman, should be calling for her head and outing her to the media for the literal crimes she’s committed, but you also want her. She hadn’t left your mind since the day you met her and knowing that she had been spying on you this whole time was both infuriating and a little arousing. 

Natasha suddenly grabs onto the front of your shirt, yanking you closer to her until your lips crash together. You hate that the contact makes you feel relief, and you wonder if part of your recent frustration can be attributed to the fact that all this time you were secretly yearning for the same woman who was responsible for ruining your life.

“Things between us are very, very personal,” Natasha whispers, her hands slipping under your shirt to scratch across your abdomen. The coldness of her skin makes you want to cringe away, but her fingers hook onto your belt to keep you from going too far.

“Did you get jealous listening to all the girls I was fucking?” you ask.

“No,” Natasha says, but her cheeks redden and you know she’s lying. “But none of them could make you moan the way I do.”

“I wished they were you,” you admit, panting against her forehead as she undoes your belt. “Which is a fucked up thing to say given what you’ve been doing to my company.”

“I’m very good at what I do, baby,” Natasha says, pressing another hot kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll make your life hell if you don’t stop fucking with my company,” you growl, but your threat is significantly undermined by the whimper you let out when her fingers trace down the V-line of your hips to your center. 

“Would you rather I fuck you over your company?” she asks.

“Shit,” you gasp, unable to focus on her question when two fingers slip into you. You’re embarrassingly soaked for her, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had wet dreams of letting Natasha Romanoff fuck you ever since your first encounter. You fall back against the wall, panting as she pistons her fingers in and out of you. “Someone might walk in,” you warn, suddenly reminded about the forbiddenness of this relationship.

“I locked the door,” Natasha says, using her free hand to tug down the collar of your shirt so she can lick and kiss the skin of your neck. You bite on your lip to muffle your moan, your hands going to hold her hips roughly, pulling her closer to you. Her fingers curl and her thumb presses hard into your clit. You feel yourself clench tightly around her and your knees are ready to buckle. “For the record, I did miss you too.” 

“What took you so long?” You have no idea how you’re able to hold a conversation with Natasha Romanoff while she fucks you, but here you are. Your hands wander towards her ass, cupping her solidly and almost lifting her off the floor. 

“I had to wait,” she answers simply, her thumb flicking against your clit and your stomach burns with the stimulation. The slick noises of her fingers sliding into you is downright filthy and you rock your hips forward to urge her to move faster.

“What did you…have to wait…for?” you pant. “Your stocks to…overtake…mine?”

“Sure, baby,” Natasha says, nibbling at your collarbone and marking you with a dark hickey. You still have enough consciousness to notice the way she dodges your question. “You want to cum for me?” she asks, pistoning her hand faster.

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg, already on the verge of finishing. You adjust the angle of your hips so she can reach deeper, her fingers brushing past the sensitive ridges that make you see stars with every touch.

“Wait until I say,” she demands and you whine at her dominance. But you’re in no position to negotiate, so you keep your back pressed against the wall, desperately fighting the tidal wave of arousal threatening to crash down. 

“Nat,” you say, your fingers digging hard into her ass, “Please let me–”

“Wait,” she repeats, sounding both annoyed and aroused. She pumps into you harder and faster, until you’re quivering and don’t think you can physically hold back anymore–

“Babe–”

“Cum for me.”

You feel like your body is tearing apart as you explode over her hand, arching your back off the wall, pressing your heaving chest into Natasha’s, heart pounding like you’ve just sprinted through a marathon. Natasha’s thrusts slow as you ride out your orgasm, and as you slump against the wall, she pulls her fingers out and, sticking them into her mouth to suck off your juices. You watch her hungrily, still dizzy from the rush of endorphins. 

“My turn,” you say, hooking your arms under her thighs and her arms loop around your neck. You pick her up effortlessly and shuffle with her into the handicapped stall. This time, Natasha’s back is pinned to the wall as you crash your lips into hers, reigniting the heat between your legs. But you’ve already got your release and you are more than eager to return the favor. 

You pull down her pants and panties, mouth watering at the sight of her glistening center. You crouch down to pick her up again, this time letting her thighs rest on your shoulders so when you stand up, her pussy is perfectly in line with your mouth. Natasha’s hands tangle tightly in your hair as she draws your head towards her center, her calves locking across the back of your neck.

Without needing any more prompting, you pull forward to taste her. Her moans are music to your ears as you lap at her dripping heat, your tongue pressing deeper in search of more. All you can smell is her, all you can taste is her, and all you can think about is her. Natasha is sinful heaven to you and for a few seconds, you let yourself completely forget about how she’s ruining your life.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door.

“Hello? Why is this locked?” someone’s voice on the other side says. 

You reach up with your right hand and cover Natasha’s mouth. She bites into the side of your hand and you hiss at the pain.

“Go get one of the staff.”

“You better finish soon,” you hum, nipping at the insides of her thighs while she squirms on your shoulders. “Or the whole world is going to hear me eating you out in here.”

“They should,” Natasha pants, gripping almost painfully at the back of your head, trying to force you back between her legs. “They need to know that you’re all mine, baby.”

You want to tell her that you don’t belong to anyone, and certainly not her of all people, but the protests die in your throat as she squeezes her thighs around your head. You truly are some kind of servant to Natasha Romanoff. Your tongue runs up and down her slit, poking at her throbbing clit as she bucks forward against your face.

“Fuck, take me already,” she whines. 

“So impatient,” you tease. 

“Less talking, more fucking,” she demands.

“Same to you.” You shove your fingers into her mouth to quiet her, and she sucks on them in a way that you try to mirror against her pussy. Wrapping your lips around her clit and thrusting your tongue into her until she’s a puddle in your arms.

“...I don’t know why the door is locked. Let me speak to the manager to get the key.”

Natasha’s whimpers are muted so you have to gauge her reaction by the rest of her body. The way she grips onto your hair like it’s some kind of lifeline. Her walls milk your tongue desperately, slick spilling onto your chin. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to get enough of this woman.

The door clicks open just as Natasha finally comes undone. Your fingers muffle her moans as you quickly lick her clean, wishing you had time to bring her to a second orgasm, but the heels on the floor indicate the two of you are no longer alone. You slowly lower Natasha to the floor, suddenly feeling the burn in your shoulders as you finally relieve yourself of her weight.

“Call me next time you want to fuck someone,” Natasha pulls you in for one final kiss and slips something into your pocket. It’s her business card. 

“We’ll see,” you say, still not exactly sure of this arrangement, but not having the time to hang around and discuss. You leave the stall first, washing off at the sink and slinking out.

***********************************************************************

Natasha waits until you’ve left the bathroom to adjust herself in the mirror. She reapplies another layer of lipstick, smoothing down her blouse and tucking it back into her pants. She struts out of the restaurant, her body tingling in the aftermath of her sexcapade in the bathroom with you.

She steps into the alley adjacent to the restaurant and stands by the overflowing dumpster. She takes your wallet out of her pocket, unfolding it and laughing at the photo on your driver’s license. It was almost disappointing how easy you were. You weren’t cut out to lead a powerful company like Envy Industries. While you might have had the intellect, you clearly could not handle confrontation and even the idea of failure.

Natasha almost feels bad for you, but not bad enough to stop.

She empties the cash from your wallet, the several crisp hundred dollar bills fluttering to the ground. Maybe they’ll make some lucky homeless person’s day. Natasha pockets your heavy metal credit cards, despite having no intention but to use them as paperweights for her office. Then she finds what she’s really after: the solid black card that’s your apartment key. 

Natasha discards your wallet into the dumpster and walks out to the street to be picked up by her driver. 

***********************************************************************

You return to the table, smoothing back your hair and pulling at the newly-formed wrinkles in your shirt. You barely remember to button your shirt back up to your throat to hide the collar of hickeys Natasha left to remember her by.

“You were in there a while,” Tony comments. “You need some Pepto?”

“No, I’m fine.” You sit down, staring at your cold steak while you think. “Can we go now? I have some stuff I need to do.”

“Sure, sure.” Tony calls for the waitress and the check. You slip your phone out to view the location of the tracking device you (literally) implanted into Natasha.

It was a tiny, tiny device, probably about the size of a grain of rice. You could barely feel its weight when you have it balanced on the tip of your finger. 

“This GPS will provide an accurate location down to a meter,” Dr. Pym explains. “Designed and manufactured right here at Envy Industries, so you can rest assured this is the highest quality product you’ll find on the market.”

“Don’t mention this to my dad, will you?” you request, placing the little tracker back in its foam-padded case.

“Of course,” Dr. Pym says. “I answer to you and only you now.”

“Good.”

You weren’t a hundred-percent sure how successful you’d be, but you had tried your best to hold the GPS on your fingertip before sticking your fingers in Natasha’s mouth. Her natural reaction would be to suck and swallow, and you were hoping that the rice-sized GPS would easily find its way down her esophagus into her. 

There was no way she would know about it (or even be able to taste it) in the heat of the moment, and after a few days, it would pass through and the evidence wouldn’t be in her system anymore. You didn’t need more than a few days to track her location and habits. 

With a sigh of relief, you see the red dot on the map indicating that she’s still waiting by the street side of the restaurant, probably for her driver. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself, wondering what Natasha would say when she realizes you’re willing to play just as dirty as her.

The waitress boxes up your steak and hands it to you in a paper bag. You and Tony leave through the back entrance to the cramped parking lot and you wait until you’ve climbed into his Aston Martin to say, “Are you still in touch with that…uh…Buck guy?”

Tony is quiet for a moment. “Oh, you mean Bucky? Yeah, I see him from time to time. Why?”

You’ve never made a request like this before in your life, and you know the moment you do, it’s going to change everything. You take a deep breath, fighting the anxiety in your chest.

“I need him to get me a gun.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Click here for Part 3!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[starlostseungmin]

whispers ─── lee felix.

✰ notes : first of all i'd like to announce that i reached 3k friends here! thank you so much for that and i appreciate every single one of you! <33 anyway if you watched ABOUT TIME movie, you are already familiar with this scene because it's inspired by it. i just made a bit of changes and with felix in it so i hope you guys like it (this is not proofread btw) also, please DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS after reading! thank you <33

✰ tags : @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji

masterlist | taglist.

felix went home a bit late that one saturday night after work. he had to see the movie he promised to watch with jeongin at the cinema. you bailed out after he invited you when he mentioned he got tickets and made a reason to sleep on a day off. he parted ways with jeongin around the block and walked home, alone. 

it was cold, he could see the smoke coming out from his mouth as his hands shoved inside the pockets of his jacketーthe stars were illuminating the dark sky with a few clouds in sight but his eyes wandered around the streets. he was supposed to take the train back to your shared apartment but didn’t want to be disrupted by noisy passengers with loud music banging their ears from their earphones and he tried to take some time to think. 

you’ve been dating for the past three years and it has been amazing. he never felt so happy and contented. the joy cannot be compared to any other things. it was that time when the two of you met at a diner just outside the office where you were working. the purpose was to grab dinner and go home then, this wonderful man showed up who had gotten the love at first sight experience. an opportunity came in and a conversation. he invited you to dates every weekend until the feelings got deeper after getting to know each other for weeks, made the relationship official with labels, and decided to live together. 

for the past three years, it was magical as it made tons of memories that you and felix couldn’t write every single one of them in your journal. the polaroids that were taken are hanging on the walls of your room with dates written on each one of them. those plushies he won for you sat on the shelves, the books being piled up being read or untouched, the albums from your favorite artists being displayed on the table along with the music player and vinyl, the flowers on the vases, the letters and other gifts you’ve exchangedーit was sweet. 

having this amazing relationship with felix is like reading a book without a synopsis or a summary from the covers or even the first pages. you don’t know what’s going to happen. it’s like living every day and there are things you cannot control. it’s either you read and go on with the story with curiosity and braveness or do not read the book at all and miss a series of events that could change your life. yet, you chose to read the book and the author created a love story you could ask for. it did change your life as well as felix’s but one thing’s for sure, there are a lot of trials on the way but it would start by holding your hands together to make a stronger bond, just like how chemical bonds create structures. 

he went inside as quietly as possible as he didn’t want to ruin your slumber. the lights were switched off in the living room and only the entrance’s light censor made him see through the dark as he removed his shoes. 

felix has thought of all the possibilities and the impossible, the rights and wrongs, the obstacles and smooth ways while walking. the consistency of this relationship must remain and be locked. he knew it wouldn’t be fancy but he promised himself that he’ll do it in a way that the two of you would prefer. and now, he’s here, looking at your sleeping figure being wrapped around that white duvet. 

“baby,” he called softly as he shook your shoulder lightlyーkneeling down on the carpeted floor of your room. 

“hmm?” you hummed in response. “five more minutes.” you muttered making him let out a soft chuckle. 

“no, baby, wake up,” he said. “i have something important to ask,” 

your eyes flutter open, from a blurry vision to a clear frame directed at his face. a smiley felix welcomed you as he caressed your hair when you were about to sit up. 

“no, just lay down,” he said. 

“okay,” you smiled. “what is it?” you asked, feeling relaxed on your soft mattress and the coziness of your pillow. 

“you know that we’re happy, right?” he paused as you nodded in response. “i don’t know if it’s the movie i watched with jeongin that made me feel this way, it's always the romance genre that would hit me to reality and the thought that i always have you by my side—” he added when you put your index finger on his lips, hearing a piece of romantic music playing gently from the living room as it echoes through the open door of your room. 

“is that romantic music?” you asked. “and you’re on your knees while saying something that i doubt is not just a love confession,” you added while fighting to stay awake which felix laughed shyly. 

“yeah,” he said, licking his lower lip in embarrassment. “i am,” 

“go on,” you smiled. 

“will you marry me?” he asked which made your smile bigger and now you’re fully awake. 

“i think,” you paused, clearing your throat. “i’m going to say, yes to that,” you added, looking at him in awe, saying; “and thank you for doing this that does not involve a lot of people and other crowds. i don’t like many people,” 

felix smiled gently and placed a soft kiss on your lips before tracing his fingers on your cheeks, “i also don’t like people,” he said. “thank you for saying yes,” he whispered before leaning forward to kiss you again. 

“i love you, darling,” you said in between. 

“i love you more,” he answered. “get back to sleep, alright? i’ll join you in 10,” 

“okay,” you said softly as he smiled, leaving a kiss on your forehead before exiting the room shushing han and seungmin for playing the instruments he asked for support outside. 

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[ghsface]

It's okay to cry. It's okay to not be okay...

Bau team x bau!reader

Sumary: Sometimes I need to remind myself and others that survival doesn’t just mean being okay, it means learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?

Warnings: mentions of attempted suicide, lots of blood, some dark humor at the end, cuts on arms, bathtub full of blood, no use of t/n (if you don't feel good reading this please don't read it, I also tried to approach this topic with too much care and delicacy and respect, I hope not to offend anyone)

Author's note: September is suicide prevention month. "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" is something that you always hear people say.. and it's true.

speaking from my personal experience, it's something that was on my mind many months many years ago, and I was able to put those thoughts aside thanks to people who I thought were never going to help me, it was a long and very hard process but now I can tell you that I'm completely fine, once they told me if you have people to write a farewell letter to it's because at least someone cares about you, you may have heard this before but it's true, you will always have someone to support you even if you think you have no one, also once they told me if you ever have these thoughts again or even try again ask for help it doesn't matter who just ask for help, whatever way ask for help, those words marked me almost all of my adolescence tbh and it helped me, I hope that if you are going through this alone, you can talk to me, my messages will always be open for whatever it is help or just talking, feel free to do so, if you read this up to here I really appreciate that you did<333

The BAU team was uneasy. It wasn't often that someone on their team disappeared without a trace, much less you. Emily Prentiss had been the first to notice your absence, as you never missed work without notice. Days ago, you had requested a brief leave for personal matters, but you hadn't returned to the office or answered any calls or messages since. As the days passed, worry turned to fear.

JJ, Spencer, and Emily decided to go to your house, as they could no longer ignore the fact that something wasn't right. The atmosphere in the car was tense. JJ kept his hands tightly on the wheel, while Spencer stared out the window, his mind wandering through thousands of possibilities, each one worse than the last. Emily, in the backseat, checked her phone over and over again, hoping in vain to receive some news from you.

When they arrived at your house, the silence was deathly. The windows were closed, and the door seemed intact, but there was something in the air, something that made them hold their breath. Emily pulled out her gun, and after exchanging a worried look with JJ and Spencer, they decided to go inside.

“anyone home?” JJ shouted as she walked down the hallway to the entrance. There was no response.

Spencer’s heart was pounding as they made their way into the living room. Everything was in order, not a sign of a struggle, but something wasn’t right. Every step they took, every corner they inspected, increased the feeling that something terrible had happened.

It was Emily who first noticed the bathroom door ajar. She approached it slowly, holding her breath, as a dark foreboding took hold of her. Pushing open the door, the scene she found was enough to make her stomach turn.

There you were, in the bathtub, submerged in the red-tinged water. Your arms hung at your sides, covered in deep cuts, blood still slowly flowing from the wounds.

“Oh my God!” JJ exclaimed from the doorway, her voice cracking.

Spencer walked into the room behind her, and for a second, the world seemed to stop. She’d never felt such paralyzing fear, such sharp pain in her chest. The air became thick, almost impossible to breathe.

Emily was the first to react, rushing to you, her hands shaking as she tried to pull your unconscious body out of the water. “Call an ambulance, JJ!” she screamed, trying to stay calm, though her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Spencer knelt beside you, her eyes flooding with tears. “You can’t do this... you can’t leave us like this,” she whispered, her voice thick with desperation.

JJ tried to call 911, but the desperation in his voice made the words catch in his throat. He finally managed to give the address, but the operator informed him that the ambulance would take a while to arrive due to an accident on the main road. Without wasting any more time, JJ made a decision. “We can’t wait, we have to take her ourselves!”

Without thinking twice, the three of them carried you out of the bathroom, wrapping you in towels to stop the bleeding. Spencer held you, his hands still stained with your blood, as they rushed you to the car.

The trip to the hospital was agony. Every second that passed, every breath you took, or stopped taking, was like a stab in the heart of each of them. Emily, driving at full speed, struggled not to lose concentration while JJ, from the backseat, pressed on your wounds, trying to keep you conscious. Spencer kept talking to you, murmuring words of encouragement, pleading with you not to leave, to stay with them.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital, and the doctors immediately took you into surgery. The BAU team, who had been alerted, arrived soon after. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Garcia joined Emily, JJ, and Spencer in the waiting room. The hours passed slowly, each minute a silent torture as they waited for news from you.

Spencer kept staring at his hands, your words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of you, limp and lifeless in that bathtub. He felt helpless, riddled with guilt for not realizing what was happening to you. He loved you, more than he’d ever dared to admit, and the thought of losing you was too painful to bear.

Finally, the doctor emerged from the operating room, his expression grave. “She’s stable for now, but the blood loss was significant. We had to suture multiple wounds and are monitoring for possible nerve damage. It’s a miracle they brought her in on time.”

The relief was palpable, but so was the sadness. They knew that even though you had survived, the battle wasn’t over. They would have to face the reasons why you had gotten to that point, figure out what had happened, and most of all, be there for you, to help you heal.

Spencer walked up to the ICU door, looking at you through the glass. His eyes filled with tears, he rested a hand on the glass. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad you were,” he whispered, feeling the weight of guilt crushing him.

Emily and JJ accompanied him, each feeling a mix of relief and pain. They knew the road to your recovery would be long and difficult, but they were determined to be by your side every step of the way, no matter what it took.

When you were finally able to open your eyes days later, the first thing you saw were the tired but relieved faces of your teammates. You knew you had plunged into a darkness that seemed insurmountable, but seeing the people who loved you by your side, you knew you wouldn’t be alone on the road back to the light.

The dim glow of the hospital’s fluorescent lights welcomed you back into the conscious world. Your head hurt, and you felt the weight of the blankets on your body, but what caught your attention the most was the soft sound of someone breathing next to you. You slowly turned your head and met the tired, worried eyes of Spencer, who had been watching over you.

“Spencer…” your voice came out as a whisper, rough from lack of use and medication. You were surprised at how weak you felt, as if a large part of you had vanished.

He sat up instantly, his eyes filling with relief at seeing you awake. “You’re awake…” he said in a tone that reflected a mix of joy and pain. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... If I had known… If I had noticed something…” The weight of his guilt hit you hard. Even though every fiber of your being was exhausted, you couldn’t let Spencer carry that pain. But before you could answer, the door to the room opened, and Emily and JJ rushed in, closely followed by Hotch and Rossi.

Emily approached you, tears in her eyes, but keeping her composure. “You scared the hell out of us,” she said softly, gently taking your hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone, understand? We’re here for you, always.” JJ sat on the other side of the bed, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Whatever you’re going through… you can tell us. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence, everyone waiting for you to say something, anything to help them understand what had brought you to this point. You knew they were worried, that they wanted to help you, but it wasn’t easy to put into words the storm that had been building inside you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking, feeling tears build up in your eyes. “I didn’t want them to know… I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Spencer looked at you in pain, his hands shaking slightly as he took yours. “You would never be a burden to us. Never.”

Hotch, who had been watching silently, stepped forward. His voice was firm, but with a tinge of compassion that he rarely showed. “You don’t have to face this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever led you to this, we’re going to be with you every step of the way.”

Hotch’s words, so simple and full of promise, were what finally broke the dam. The tears you’d been holding back for so long began to flow, and with them came a wave of emotions you’d been suppressing: the despair, the loneliness, the pain that had consumed you in silence.

Emily wrapped her arms around you, holding you with a strength that anchored you in the present. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to not be okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking with her own pent-up emotions.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt like you could breathe, if only barely. The lump in your chest didn’t go away entirely, but the presence of your peers, your friends, gave you the strength you needed to start talking, to share what you’d been keeping to yourself.

You told them about the pressure you’d felt, the feeling that you were failing, that you couldn’t live up to expectations. You told them how each day had gotten harder to bear, until one day you just couldn’t take it anymore. The words came out in fits and starts, mixed with sobs, but they listened to each one with patience and understanding.

There was no judgment, just support. And as you spoke, little by little, you began to feel the weight that had been weighing you down begin to lighten, if only a little.

When you finally finished, the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Spencer was still holding your hand, and his gaze reflected both pain and resolve. “You’re not alone in this. You won’t be anymore,” he said firmly.

Hotch nodded. “We’ll have to work together to get through this, but we will. We’ll help you find the support you need, and we’ll be here for you, too.”

Rossi, who had been watching from the back, came over and gently patted you on the shoulder. “Remember, that’s what family is for, to be there in the worst times and the best too.”

At that moment, although you knew the road ahead would be long and difficult, you also knew that you wouldn’t walk it alone. The team weren't just your colleagues, they were your family, and with them by your side, you began to believe that, perhaps, you could find a way to heal.

And although the darkness still lurked, the light of hope, however small, began to shine again.

ONE YEAR LATER...

1 year into recovery brought with it a new version of you, a version that, while still scarred, both physically and emotionally, was fully committed to moving forward with humor and gratitude. You had rejoined the team fully and found a balance between work, your personal life, and your healing process. Your colleagues had learned to appreciate your new style of humor, even when you surprised them with your comments from time to time.

One afternoon, while you were in the office cafeteria with Emily, JJ, and Garcia, you decided to break the silence with a joke, something you had perfected over those past few months.

“Did you know I’ve developed a new skill?” you said, as you poured yourself a coffee. The three womens looked at you curiously. “Now I can say that I’m an expert in abstract art. I just need something sharp and a bad day.”

There was a moment of surprise, but then Emily was the first to laugh, shaking her head. “You know, no one handles dark humor like you.”

JJ nodded, smiling. “True, but at least now we know you do it with complete command of the situation. Although I will never stop being amazed by your ability to make jokes out of something so serious.”

“Well, my traumas, my jokes,” you said with a wink, and the group burst into laughter. They had learned to take your humor as a sign of your progress, a way to remind yourself and them that you were in control, that you wouldn’t let yourself be overcome by the darkness that once trapped you.

Garcia, who until now had been listening in silence, smiled and gave you a gentle nudge. “You know, I think you should consider writing a self-help book: ‘How to survive work and not go crazy. ’ It could be a best-seller.”

“Sure, with special chapters on how to choose something sharp and how not to use them when you have a bad day,” you joked, and everyone laughed again.

Towards the end of the day, as you were gathering your things to head home, you ran into Rossi in the hallway. He looked at you with his typical knowing expression, but with a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“You know, kid I love seeing you make those jokes. It’s a sign that you’re okay, but it’s also a reminder of how far you’ve come.”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Yeah, Dave, I know. Sometimes, I need to remind myself and others that surviving doesn’t just mean being okay, but learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?”

Rossi let out a soft laugh. “You know, you can always count on me to be your audience. I’m not as good an audience as Spencer, though.”

“Thanks, Dave. I’ll keep that in mind for my next show.”

As you left, you knew you were surrounded by people who understood you, who supported you, and who accepted every part of you, even the darkest ones. But most importantly, you knew you had found a way to move forward: with a smile on your face, a joke on your lips, and a team that, no matter what, would always be by your side.

And as you walked out the door, ready to face whatever came next, you couldn’t help but make one last comment to yourself. “Well, if I survived the bathtub, I’m ready for anything. I just hope there’s more wine and less blood next time.”

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly🫧

[lucysarah-c]

Euphemisms

Summary: Levi may not have attended school, but he knows a thing or two about pregnancy… and also periods. (Levi takes care of you during your period) Author's Note: I wrote this story a while ago for my main fic. Then, I wrote a different version for the final cut of the fic, so I decided to re-arrange this one so it could be a one-shot. Warning: Suggesting themes, mentions of pregnacy. The reader is a virgin. Word Count: 3.5k

The calendar that was peacefully and innocently lying on top of Erwin’s desk. ‘March…’ her mind read, ‘It’s March already, the 7th to be precise.’ Her mind tried to count days, desperately trying to find missing days that could make the counting lower. Biting her nails with worry, this was a new topic for her to be stressed about.

Levi had joined the military only a year ago, right? He hadn’t been promoted yet, but the gossip in the halls said it was imminent. Perhaps because in the few months he had been part of the Scouts, he had already killed more titans than anyone before. Maybe it was because he worked directly for Erwin, who kept ordering her to write letters to the military board requesting the special promotion of Captain for those who were impressive additions to the military but hadn’t gone through the regular training.

The yet-to-be Captain and she had locked eyes in the past, or… done more than just locking eyes. That was the issue now. Every single time Levi was dragged into Erwin’s office because he had replied with his colorful vocabulary to a higher-up or fought another cadet, she was there. One thing led to another, and during common chores or after training, they had gotten more “familiar” with each other.

Y/N wouldn’t even dare to complain. The thug that Erwin had decided to bring to the surface kicking and shouting was many things. Rushed wasn’t one of them. She had clarified to him that she had never had a boyfriend before, or anything to be more precise, and he had reassured her that she could set the tempo. They would do anything that she felt comfortable with.

“Lev- Ah-“ she whimpered as he kissed her neck enthusiastically and his fingers played thoughtful circles over her clit.

“You like that, hm?” Levi replied almost as joke, it was obvious that she did by the way she rocked her hips against his hand.

“I-?!”

“Shhh,” he hushed her, half as mockery, half because they were breaking curfew “Don’t worry, I won’t go too far… two fingers are all I need,”

Blood rushed to her cheeks as she tried to concentrate on work, pen marking the time as it repeatedly hit the paper she was supposed to be reading while her mind recalled the exact scenes that, she believed, had dragged her into this situation.

The little knowledge that had been shared with her was more lies and tales than realistic information. The sudden crucifixion of her actions a couple of months ago passed in her mind as a picture book, one after the other, as her less pure side made an emphasis on bringing back the mental sequence of him taking off his shirt while smirking and then going down to kiss her, or better say devour her, taking her breath as if he needed the oxygen from her lungs for himself. Perhaps, the rocking of his bare hips against hers, with his manhood in full display for her to see as it pressed against her lower stomach.

‘Maybe it takes longer to show… no no, maybe I’m not. But what if I am?’ ‘Who do I tell? Who do I ask? What do I do?’

“Oi, are you going to tell me what the fuck is up with you or not?” Levi asked, pissed off already after an entire day of him asking, “You alright?” and her answering with a face that seemed far from okay, saying “Yes.” He was resting his body on the railing of the watch post, with a hot cup of tea between his hands.

“Nothing,” her voice came out whispery and sad, and he sighed loudly and groaned in pain.

“Just say it. Don’t be like ‘nothing,’” he emphasized the last word with sarcasm and disdain and kept going, “with the most fucked up face. It’s obvious that something is going on. Don’t be a pain in the ass and say it. Cut the show.”

A part of her wanted to be mad at him for saying that she wasn’t making a show or a scene. “It’s nothing that concerns you,” her response came dubitable, which made Levi keep up the demanding attitude, as if this time he wasn’t taking that as an answer. “It doesn’t concern you… you as a man.”

There was a brief silence before he sighed loudly. “You’re on the rags, that’s it?” She raised an eyebrow at the euphemism that was a bit more “street-like” than what she was used to. “You’re on your period, you’re bleeding. That’s what I meant.”

Leaving aside that it wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last that despite both of them talking the same language as every human inside of the walls, Underground slang was so distant from what she was used to that sometimes that they got lost in translation. When she got what he meant, she blushed intensely, ashamed. “No, and God, you could be a bit more delicate about it.”

Possibly, she wasn’t used to bringing the topic around the other gender. She had been told (since it happened for the first time) the bearable minimum amount of information: “You’re a woman now, it will happen every month, men must not know.” Telling Levi was breaking one of the three rules set in stone for her. The second rule was also broken, so she felt like stepping on completely foreign land.

The permanent wrinkled frown in Levi’s complexion was slightly changed with the addition of a raised, thin eyebrow. “If you’re not, then what’s the problem?”

She joined in the frowning and avoided his glance with questionable security and a mortified appearance. “More like… the lack of it?”

“Why are you worried about it?” Levi’s straightforward nature was testing her limits of politeness.

“Well, you know!” she cussed at him. “That I may be expecting,” she whispered the last part, terrified that someone might even hear her, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. As if those words could travel through walls and arrive at someone.

This was the time for him to be shocked and surprised. His eyebrows raised, and his eyes opened. Suddenly, even without him wanting, a pang of hurt appeared in his face. Levi was quick to question, “Are you fuckin’ someone?”

Perhaps the details or the official title of what they were sharing hadn’t been discussed yet, but Levi somehow thought it was rather clear that they were exclusive. However, since she seemed genuinely worried, Levi considered that perhaps he was the only one taking this more seriously. The idea of him misreading the relationship was like a bucket of cold water mixed with the raging fire of jealousy. He took a sip of his tea, mostly to disguise the disappointment mingled with hurt.

Her coldness was lost, and she pressed her lips together while raising both eyebrows, irritated. “You!”

The former thug, not following her train of thought, admired her in confusion before saying, “How could I get you knotted up?”

Levi’s usual frowning expression changed slightly as he was certainly not getting the point of the conversation. “Are you fuckin’ someone else?”

Gasping in disbelief, “Are you already questioning my loyalty to you?” She felt dreadfully offended. She turned around and gave him her back. “My grandmother was right. Men back up so easily. They leave you as soon as they find out.”

He shook his head slightly while wrinkling the nose, as he tried to process everything. He was completely confused but at the same time he got a rush of relief at her words. “You… you think you could be knock up?”

“Couldn’t you be softer about it? You say it so harshly,” she complained about his sharp tongue. As a silent reply, the hand that wasn’t holding the cup left his trousers’ pocket and raised as he also cocked an eyebrow, completely misunderstanding what was wrong with his choice of words. “I don’t know, maybe a bun in the oven or with child.”

She was freaking out inside and out, and Levi dedicated his best disinterested look to her after her correction of words. “What am I going to do?” she questioned to no one in particular as she felt the fear kicking in.

Levi’s expression remained the same as he gave it a thought, and then said almost as if he was confused of his own actions too. “I … I haven’t put it in yet,”

She seemed to have completely ignored him. Once he had finally concluded there was actually no real problem he sighed and then said, “Then you’re not pregnant, chill. Calm down.” As soon as those words left his lips and she turned around with a dead gaze, his free hand raised again but this time as some sort of white flag. “Fine, fucking terrible choice of words.” Aware that not a single person in human history had calmed down after being told so.

“You don’t know that,” she murmured as a reply to his first statement.

“I think I kinda do.” The calmness in his tone and the disinterest in his face made her even more infuriated.

“People in my life, especially my family, had made it clear before. Messing around with a man could lead to pregnancy. We were both naked and your… your thing was touching me and close by. I don’t know! Maybe it worked somehow,” she desperately tried to express her fears until she heard him chuckle. It was starting to be tiring to dedicated him dead glances.

“Sorry,” he apologized, probably realizing that laughing in her face wasn’t helping. “I may not be the most educated moron around here, but that simply is not how it works. I didn’t put my dick in, not even close, so you’re safe.”

“Are you implying that you know more than everybody around me?”

“More about sex than you? Apparently, yes, I’m sure of that.” As he arrived at the end of his reply, he couldn’t stop a side smirk from appearing on his features, and then he took a sip from his tea. "If getting knotted up was that easy, girly, there would be more kids than fucking grass.”

Her stubbornness didn’t allow her to believe him. She walked around the watch post worrying, “What if I need to carry it on? Will I lose my job? Erwin will be so disappointed in me! I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready to be a mother either.”

Levi rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You know, there’s no fucking schools down there but I’m sure about this.” He commented, thinking to himself so stupidly prudish surface people were compared to the underground. “You’re not knock up. I’ve to put it in and shoot my load for that to happen”

When he noticed she wasn’t really paying attention, Levi took a cup and filled it up with tea. He placed it in her hands and grabbed her face. His rough, calloused hand applied pressure on her cheeks and raised it slowly, to look up at him even when they were more or less the same height. “Calm the fuck down. Why would I lie to you? If it was possible, don’t you think I would freak out? Drink the tea and relax for goodness’ sake. We are one week away from an expedition, and you’re stressed as a fucking cornered rat. Of course, your period is not coming down.”

“Alright,” she stuttered. “But what if I am? You’re not leaving me to deal with this alone, right?” She gave him her best doe eyes.

“Of course,” he replied, mostly to not argue with her but the thought that she was still considering it made him roll his eyes.

Stress is never an excellent ally. He was right in everything. They came back from the expedition; she relaxed for a few days, and it came right in. If there’s something worse than a period, it's a late one. Her hormones were messed up, and everything hurt twice as much.

"Trying" was a generous word for her attempts at pretending she wasn’t in so much pain that she wished she'd never left her bed. It was a mix of the constant discomfort from the unrelenting waves of pain and a boiling sensation in her lower belly. Not to mention the random rushes of intense pain in her butt that made her feel as if time froze until the sensation slowly passed. She felt moody, mostly because the uniform felt like it was pressing in all the wrong places. It was too tight, complicated, impractical, itchy, and either too cold or too warm. She wanted to put on a long shirt and lay in bed for a week.

Her fork moved the food from one side of the plate to the other. She was hungry, but not for breakfast. The usual meal felt like an insult to her state. ‘I want comfort food, not healthy stuff for training,’ she thought.

“Why the shitty face? Are you constipated?” Levi asked bluntly. Her initial thought was, ‘Yes, try going to the bathroom normally when you feel like dying.’

“I have a headache,” she replied miserably.

Levi hummed a positive reply, “Ah,” looking her from the other side of the table and simply stated, “Your blood finally came,”

She choked on the glass of water she was drinking, coughing loudly. When she finally recovered, her embarrassed expression made it clear how she felt. “Don’t say that! Or at least not like that. Haven’t you imagined that a headache is a social clue since you’re a man and I don’t want you to know?”

Levi, who once again didn’t understand her reactions, kept his uninterested facade and raised the teacup to his lips. “I don’t get your fucking embarrassment. Men know about it. It’s not a secret.”

“It’s girls’ stuff,” she tried desperately to keep the traditions she was told, while Levi was obstinate about going against them.

“It’s normal. Why are people here on the surface so fucking obsessed about hiding normal shit?” Levi, still getting used to another society, snarled.

The need to argue left her body as she writhed in pain from another cramp. She tried to hide it as best as she could, even though Levi already knew; she felt like expressing her pain was something he didn’t want to hear.

“If you feel that bad, go to bed and rest.” His voice was calm and monotone as always, but there were hints of compassion escaping his stoic expression.

“I can’t tell the superiors,” she used as an excuse.

Levi clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Who cares? What’s the point of you training while feeling like this? Go, rest, and I will tell Erwin.”

“Erwin shouldn’t know,” she cried out loud, as if that was the worst fate.

“Don’t be an idiot. Erwin has hair on his balls. He knows how it works.” Levi felt as if she was talking nonsense but when he saw her conflicted face, he added, “I will tell him you caught a cold, whatever, so rest. I’ll do your chores.”

“You sure?”

“Just go.”

She did exactly that. At first, she felt she shouldn’t because she could bare it, but as soon as she arrived at her shared bedroom, changed her clothes, and laid quietly on the bed, she knew she didn’t want to be anywhere else. She fell asleep; it was still early anyway, so it was more like resuming the rest of the night than an actual nap.

Later, a few hours before dinner, she was feeling quite bad but wasn’t tired enough to take another nap. Laying on her side, curled up as she read a book slowly because it was hard to read from that position, she heard a knock on the door. It was unusual because her friends would have just rushed in.

“Come in!” she said, slowly and lazily sitting up.

Levi's figure appeared, and she felt the urgent need to smooth out her hair, which was heavily tangled from lying in bed all day. “What are you doing here?” she questioned quickly, running her hands through her hair. “Men are not allowed in the female barracks.”

Levi left a tray with tea and some buns with jelly, probably leftover from breakfast, on her nightstand as he moved next to her between the two bunk beds. “Who is gonna keep me out?” he replied monotonously, as if they both knew nobody was going to pick a fight with him or get on his bad side by snitching to a higher-up.

Before she could thank him, he asked, “You have a hot water bottle?”

“Yeah, but it’s cold already,” she replied, still confused. He extended a hand as a silent gesture for her to give it to him.

Once she handed it to him, he declared, “I’ll come back later. Drink the tea before it gets cold. Bread with jelly was the closest thing to something your bratty sweet tooth would like.”

She accepted the warm cup he handed her with a tender smile. “Thank you so much, you shouldn’t have.”

“How are you feeling?” Levi asked, keeping his eyes on her while she tasted the tea. ‘Chamomile,’ she noted.

“Could be worse, I’ll survive,” she replied, still embarrassed that he was around. “Did you warn the higher-ups?”

Levi nodded. “Told them you had a headache. Erwin said to take it easy today and let him know how you feel tomorrow. He mentioned something about administrative activities or some bullshit like that if you’re still not feeling well enough for training.”

She accepted the white lie without question. While resting warmly in bed, she thought, ‘If it’s only him knowing, I could get used to this kind of pampering.’

The white lie was necessary because when Levi walked to Erwin, who was leading his squad’s early morning training, he stood in front of him and said, “Y/N isn’t training today, she’s bleeding.”

The blunt words made the blond, who was casually writing on a spreadsheet, snap quickly in shock and then chuckle slightly out of nervousness. “Oh, alright, I’ll write her down as indisposed.”

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking ashamed, too?” Levi rested his hands on his hips, looking deeply at his squad leader.

Erwin, probably smiling at the unexpected situation, said, “Well no, but usually people are a bit more discreet… especially the girls.” Levi clicked his tongue, annoyed, before Erwin added, “I highly doubt Y/N told you to tell me that.”

“She told me to say she had a headache.”

“Of course,” Erwin chuckled, knowing those were not her words. “Try to be softer next time, especially if you ever have girls under your command. They get really embarrassed, especially when they are young.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Got it. I’ll add it to my long list of stuff that you fuckers from the surface get scared about.”

He was ready to go back to training while Erwin let the swears slip by as if he was tired of calling Levi’s attention to those. Then the shorter man asked, “Do you have chamomile tea?”

Erwin raised his attention from the spreadsheet to look at Levi and simply replied, “No. I have black tea.”

He clicked his tongue, “it’s for the brat,” Levi clarified, as if that would make a difference.

“I imagined, but no. I can give you black tea if you want.” Erwin insisted, confused about the specificity.

Levi frowned. “That doesn’t work, moron. Caffeine makes cramps worse. Chamomile works better. Don’t you know that?”

The blond shook his head, not ashamed of admitting his lack of knowledge. “Usually, female cadets don’t talk to us about that.”

“About their bleeding? Don’t you have a little sister?” Levi questioned back, as if that was reason enough.

“Step-sister, and she was born after I joined the military. We never shared a household,” Erwin explained as he went back to his work, disinterested. “And we prefer to call it indisposed,” he added, instructing him again.

“Tch, got it. I’ll add it to the other list of stuff I should say instead,” Levi said, ending the conversation as he turned around and walked away.

Or so he thought, because Erwin spoke up again. His attention was still on his paperwork while he switched the weight from one leg to the other, making the little rocks of the training ground move and crack. “Euphemisms.”

The former thug looked back over his shoulder, frowning, and asked, “What?” from a slightly bigger distance now.

“Euphemisms,” Erwin repeated as if the question was because the cadet didn’t hear it. But as soon as the blond didn’t get an answer, he proceeded to explain, “A euphemism is a word or phrase used to avoid saying an unpleasant or offensive word.”

Erwin had no intention of displaying his education to the former thug, more of a plain explanation. The blond even raised his eyes and did a slight smile as a “white flag,” not trying to sound superior in his explanation.

Levi replied with his best deadpan expression, “You surface assholes know that but not about chamomile tea? You should check your priorities.”

This time, the black-haired cadet truly walked away, hearing his superior chuckle a bit. “Check with Hange. They may have the tea,” Erwin called after him.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee Wanna join my tag list? Here!

Ps: If you ask me... Erwin know they are fucking lol

[ineffableteeth]

So I was rewatching Good omens and I realized something.

Season 2 brings up Memory. A lot

Specifically Crowleys memory

In every episode something is said about it and I find this really interesting

I’m only going to bring up what I think are major, I want to note there are more instances than this. This is gonna be messy and a little disorganized since I’m just throwing my words on this post as I think of them and read the episode transcripts but I had to write it out.

In Episode 1 we see pre-fall Crowley and are introduced to our amnesiac archangel. This will be important later

We don’t see much of Crowleys memory loss in this episode but the biggest example I could find was the way Beelzebub had said Extreme Sanctions after Crowley misunderstood

It was as if they were expecting him to remember

In Episode 2 we get the first blatant hint of Crowleys memory loss

When Gabriel said he couldn’t remember, Crowley doesn’t say “Well try anyway”

He says “Yes you can.”

Crowley knew Gabriel could remember, he knew he could make himself remember. As if he knew it from experience.

Also in this episode we get Crowleys “I’m a demon, I lied.” As well as several other instances where he lies in this episode.

I also feel like his “Lonliness” is important to point out, because I feel like that goes much much deeper than “[I’m on] my side”

In Episode 3 we get Crowley and Gabriel’s Conversation about “Gravity”

Crowley knows what gravity is on a base level. But he says “I don’t remember” when asked why gravity exists and proceeds to give a very nondescript explanation

Now for Episode 4. This episode is actually what triggered me to start looking for these instances.

Because of Furfur

Near the end of the episode when Furfur enters the dressing room he mentions that him and Crowley were directly next to eachother during the Great War, as well as the fact Crowley used to jump on his back “Like a little monkey in a waistcoat”

And Crowley didn’t remember

All he remembered was going to war

Why does Furfur — A demon — remember but Crowley doesn’t?

In Episode 5 we get one of the most crucial ‘memory’ scenes imo

The aftermath of Crowley threatening Gabriel

When Gabriel tells Crowley “It hurts to remember, my head isn’t built for that” Crowley replies with “I know, do it anyway”

Again it sounds like Crowley is speaking from experience

The most important quote to me though is when Crowley says “I know, looking at where the furniture isn’t.”

Because after the fact he proceeds to ask Gabriel if he wants a hot chocolate

This wasn’t a sympathetic action. It was Empathetic.

He feels for Gabriel, he knows what it’s like to not know

Finally in Episode 6 we get context.

This is where the whole amnesiac archangel comes into play.

Before I get into that though I want to bring up Crowleys meeting with Saraquael. Because something interesting stood out to me while reading her voicelines. After Crowley asks “Do we know eachother?” Saraquael says “When you were an Angel” and pauses before she says the following voiceline “We worked together on the horsehead nebula”

Those were two different sentences. I’m definitely looking too far into this but to me it sounded like she knew he wouldn’t remember so she gave unnecessary context. This as well as the fact she didn’t respond when Crowley essentially said he didn’t remember her.

Back to my original point though, during this episode we finally learn how (and why) Gabriel lost his memories. Angels can remove their own memories as well as have their memories removed by other angels.

But clearly Furfur still has his memories, as well as Shax, Dagon, and Beelzebub

And anytime Crowley mentions “remembering” something it’s post-fall

Adding on Neil’s post about “Crowley not being a reliable narrator on his fall” as well as showing Crowley pre-fall in episode one leads me to believe there’s some foreshadowing in there and something happened to Crowleys memory.

But What?

Why doesn’t he remember?

What did they do to him?

[imminent-danger-came]

Sun Wukong Knew About MK the Whole Time: A Theory

I am currently hyped up on leftovers and iced coffee, so let's do this!

I've talked about this before, here and here, but I think it's finally time I wrote an official post. You can go and read those posts if you want to (I definitely hit the nail on the head with some of this stuff), but I will be compiling a lot of what I said on those posts here!

So. Let's get the Mr. Elephant out of the room first: The David Breen Tweets. (thread here).

I see this tweet mentioned a lot whenever I bring up SWK knowing about MK, and honestly, this is a far cry from the "it's been confirmed that SWK didn't know" definite answer everyone's been implying.

So let's break it down!

#1: "Monkey King ain't the father"/"Monkey King isn't his dad." Well of course! Being born from a stone means you don't have any parents. I see it like this: Wukong isn't MK's dad, but he's also not NOT MK's dad, it's a secret third thing (creator and creation). Or, perhaps Wukong didn't help create MK at all, but he at the very least was involved in the circumstances that lead to MK being created/being born from the stone. (Aka eldritch abomination MK theory. My Beloved. Okay sorry.)

#2: "Monkey King was ripping his way through memories looking for MK, but kept coming back to the stone. He doesn't know why." So, while Wukong was ripping through memories, he didn't know why the scroll kept spitting him out by the stone. This is not a confirmation that Wukong didn't know about MK and his origins. It also begs the question: how did Wukong know MK was in the scroll to begin with? There's also some speculation to be had about why Wukong was so desperate to find MK to begin with:

MK: "Monkey King did this?" Macaque: "It looks like he's been tearing his way through his past—trying to find his way to.." MK: "Me."

(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)

-

What was he so afraid of MK finding? Or, what was he afraid the scroll would force MK to experience? I think these are questions worth asking.

#3: "Wukong's trying real hard to leave the 'not being open with MK' days behind after s3. Problem is he's got lifetimes of info to catch them up on." Well, this one is a DOOZIE. One: we already know MK doesn't know everything about Wukong and his choices because he doesn't know Wukong killed Macaque (thank you 4x11). Two: "trying real hard" and "successfully doing" are very different things. And three: YOU DON'T JUST DROP INFO LIKE "Hey, did you know you're a Monkey Demon?" ON TOP OF SOMEONE RANDOMLY. Especially not MK. You have to prepare them for it.

Wukong is trying to do better and be better for everyone around him, but that still takes work. That still isn't easy. He's still going to make mistakes, which means he's not going to always go about being open with MK in the best way.

Sun Wukong: “Point is, mistakes happen, but so long as you leave the world in better shape than you found it, then it’s all good. Right?”

(4x01 Familiar Tales)

-

This scene—to me—feels like Wukong is trying prepare MK for his eventual "Hey did you know you're a Monkey Demon?" conversation he wants (and needs) to have down the line. Yes, SWK is trying to be more open with MK, but he's also just not going to be given that chance before the truth comes out.

MK: "Yeah right, if Monkey King really was my dad don't you think he would have said something by now?" Mei: "Yeah...because he's normally SOOOOO forth coming with information." MK: "Well uh, whatever—when we find Monkey King's stone, then we'll just ask him!"

(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robbed Demon)

-

Notice how they never asked Monkey King that question? From a writing standpoint, why bring this up at all if it wasn't to imply that (even if Monkey King isn't MK's dad) he wasn't involved with MK's creation in some way?

ANYWAYS.

NOW THAT THE BREEN TWEET THAT HAS RUINED MY LIFE IS OUT OF THE WAY, let's get into the evidence given to us throughout the entirety of the show. Starting with this:

This isn't a scene that takes place during the "A Hero is Born" special, as I'm sure plenty of people have noticed before now. Of course, this could have just been Monkey King "scouting out a successor", but with everything we know now doesn't that...feel kinda weird?

We were told at the beginning of the show that Monkey King gave MK his powers, but now we know that's not true. MK has had his own powers this whole time—and that's something Wukong, at the very least, knew:

Sun Wukong: "Listen kid: You fought demons, and you didn't die, and you made it here! Not just anyone can lift my staff, but you did." (1x00 A Hero is Born)

-

MK: "This whole time, I thought my powers came from the staff! Sun Wukong: "The staff's just a big 'ol stick bud! It takes someone special to lift it." (3x03 Smartie Kid)

-

There's also 1x09 Macaque, which I have mentioned before:

Macaque: "Ohohoh no, can't you hold the magic staff anymore? Well, you know what that means—there really isn't anything special about you. You're just a kid with a heavy stick."

This scene is then followed by MK lifting the staff, which only happens because Wukong encourages him.

MK: "Ugh, I can't! I'm not strong enough." Sun Wukong: "Kid! We're definitely going to have words later, but it's time for the Hero Stuff!"

(1x09 Macaque)

-

Ultimately, Wukong knows MK can lift the staff again even after Macaque supposedly stole all of MK's powers. He knows MK can beat DBK (more on that later). He does something similar to all this in 3x14, being the one to let MK face the Lady Bone Demon, powered by the Samadhi fire, alone (even after Pigsy tries to stop MK):

Wukong want's to protect MK. That's why he went to face the Lady Bone Demon alone in the first place—but here, he let's MK stop the end of the world all by himself. Why would he let his beloved student face not only LBD, but a reality ending flame alone?

Because he knows how much power MK has. Because he knows MK is capable of doing it.

This all brings me to my main point: If before now we were supposed to believe that Monkey King gave MK his powers, and he so clearly didn't, how would Wukong not know he didn't give MK powers. And because he clearly knew he didn't give MK any powers, why would he not question where this kid's insane level of power came from? He had to have "chosen" MK to be his successor for a reason right?

ESPECIALLY because Wukong never planned on being a mentor in the first place:

Sun Wukong: "I know I can never make it up to you. Honestly, I- I never thought I'd live as long as I have let alone be someone's mentor—turns out I'm not very good at it. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I'm sorry MK. For all of it."

(3x14 Destiny Fulfilled)

-

This was also alluded to in 3x05 Amnesia Rules:

Pigsy: "Of COURSE you don't remember the kid—one day you are going to grow up to be a terrible mentor!" Sun Wukong: "Ha! Zhu Bajie, can you imagine me teaching someone? HA!"

-

So, Wukong clearly didn't ever want to become a mentor, and this directly contradicts what Wukong says to MK in "A Hero is Born":

Sun Wukong: "You're perfect!" MK: "Perfect for what?" Sun Wukong: "To be...my successor!"

Honestly, think about it: has Wukong ever once actually needed a successor? When given the opportunity, he goes off and tries to handle things on his own anyways (Leaving in s2, wanting to go and reforge the Samadhi Fire on his own, going to stop LBD alone). It's the classic "we're being told one thing and shown another" trick.

Sun Wukong: "No no no- in case you forgot I'M retired, you're the one supposed to be taking care of the bad guys." (1x01 Bad Weather)

Even in 2x01 he's lying:

Sun Wukong: "Aw, come on bud! I promised myself that when I found a successor I'd go see some friends, take a tour of my old stomping grounds, just cut loose you know?" (2x01 Sleep bug)

It's proven in the next episode, and by the fact that all of his friends are dead/gone, that literally nothing he said here is true.

And, it's also note worthy to point out, that by this point Wukong had already disappeared for hundreds of years. Why step in again at all? Why put the effort into getting a successor you definitely were never prepared to have?

MK: "*sigh* You think Monkey King ever felt like this? Maybe that's why he stayed up on this mountain, just having a good time with you guys. You know cause- cause he knew he'd be out of the way where he couldn't hurt anyone he cared about." Macaque: "Or, he was doing his usual Wukong thing and being a lazy peach eating idiot. Ignoring all the worlds problems.

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

-

So, I don't know about you, but I'm going to trust Macaque's insight on this. I'm not sure Wukong ever planned on coming back. Sealing DBK, he effectively cut off one of his last ties to the world (please go read wlw-wukong's thoughts, they are delightful), and he had already left the world alone for a long time. Why did he feel the need to train a successor now?

The simple answer is this: because he knew he needed to train MK and teach him to control his powers, and DBK's return was the perfect way to do it.

NOW. THE S4 MK VISIONS.

So, the visions MK see's all through out s4 (4x03, 4x04, 4x05, 4x06) are of Wukong ripping through the scroll and going to the stone—David Breen confirmed that himself in the above tweets.

Here's a list of what we see:

(4x03 The Great Tang Man)

-

(4x04 Pig Napped)

-

(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robbed Demon)

-

These are what I would say are the visions of Sun Wukong trying to find MK in the scroll. Yet, they are distinctly different from what Subodhi presses MK to remember ("Tell me of your childhood, your parents." "You do not remember?" "And what else?"):

(4x06 Show Me the Monster)

-

Look at that difference!

Every vision MK has includes the same scenes, except this one. That's why I think it's a memory; that and the way it's framed, with MK closing his eyes in focus. The other visions from 4x03, 4x04, and 4x05 all are unprompted, being forced upon MK. Why make this last "vision" so different from the others? Why show our mystery lady making the stone monkey? That would be because it's a memory—be it MK's, something from the scroll, or a mix of both.

There's also the matter of like, why Wukong going to the stone would trigger any sort of vision in MK to begin with. Overall, it just seems like there something more to those visions.

This would be how I imagine the general timeline playing out:

MK is created (through help of Sun Wukong), a beautiful baby boy pops out of the stone, and Sun Wukong "loses" that beautiful boy (if Wukong knew he was born to begin with) with MK finding his way to Pigsy's.

Then it's later Sun Wukong finds MK again, coming up with a plan to make MK his "successor" (still leaving MK with Pigsy, which I think was the right call lol). As Wukong says in 4x01, "You make ONE mistake, and no one ever let's you live it down! Looks like the ghosts of my past have finally caught up with me." That's what I think this parallel in particular is really trying to show off—in some way, MK is part of his past mistakes, just like Macaque is.

AND SO. I WILL CLOSE OFF THIS THEORY POST WITH EVERYTHING WE LEARNED IN THE SPECIAL.

Sun Wukong: "Heh, nothing gets under his skin more than a monkey. Leave Azure to MK and me."

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

Sun Wukong: "Kinda embarrassing for the Jade Emperor to have two little cheeky monkeys running circles around him the first day on the job." MK: "Well, one monkey and one unconfirmed, but *laughs* yeah! I'd be embarrassed for sure!"

(4x13 Rip and Tear)

-

Wukong sounds suspiciously confident that MK is a monkey.

Not even MK is sure what he is (which he's probably just in denial, but also "Until I know what I am, what my destiny is?" from 4x08 anyone?), but Sun Wukong is extremely certain about what MK is.

Sun Wukong: "We got this bud. Would have liked to give you some new training with your monkey form, but-" MK: "Oh yeah yeah yeah- uh um- about that— um. I- I was thinking, I've never really needed a scary new monkey form before, so, I just thought maybe I'd use it next time." Sun Wukong: "Next time? Kid, there might not be a next time! This is the time."

MK: "It's be fine! Mei and I have got this awesome new armor and everything! You know, when we look this good? Ain't nothing gonna beat us." Sun Wukong: "Kid. New armor isn't going to cut it! We have to hit Azure with everything we've got! You can't just ignore this whole part of your power because it scares you!"

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

If the writers were trying to highlight the fact that Wukong didn't know, this scene would have gone very differently. Instead of "You can't just ignore this whole part of your power because it scares you!" I think it would have been more along the lines of "I know this is new for all of us, but you've got to accept this part of your power!".

Even this exchange at the end of the special raises some alarm bells for me:

Pigsy: "Heh, don't bother. I've been telling him that for years but he LITERALLY never listens." Sun Wukong: "Yep! That's how we roll."

(4x14 Better Than We Found It)

-

That's how "we" roll? As in him and MK, as two monkeys? Again, Wukong is surprisingly chill and okay with this new form for someone whose first interaction with it was supposedly this:

MK, writhing on the ground in pain, completely destroying the world around him, and unable to control his powers.

Sun Wukong: "Yeah! Go MK, go! Just try not to totally wreck up my stuff would ya-"

(4x13 Rip and Tear)

-

Overall, it gives me the impression that Wukong already knew what MK was before 4x07. This new form didn't scare him because he always knew that's what MK was. MK, to Wukong, is MK! And MK has always been a Monkey Demon. He has unshakeable faith in his protege, and even while MK is absolutely tearing up the world around flower fruit mountain he can't help but cheer for him.

After all, Wukong knows MK is the only one who could defeat Azure:

MK: "Ne Zha's right—while Azure has the Jade Emperor's power and the scroll, there's NO way we could beat him head on!" Sun Wukong: "I mean, some of us could beat him! *ahem* One of us, specifically-" MK: "Nope! None of us at all."

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

"But Imp!" I hear you say, "Wukong was talking about himself here!". To which I would reply, that's not true! This scene is right after Wukong has already said he only almost beat the Jade Emperor:

Sun Wukong: "But don't worry—I almost beat the Jade Emperor single handed once! Between both of us, Azure doesn't stand a chance." (4x12 The Plan Man)

-

Between this and Wukong's pre-fight convo with MK ("We have to hit Azure with everything we've got!"), he's clearly banking on MK using the full extent of his powers to win this fight. Wukong isn't banking on his own—if he were, he would never have left MK to go and collect the scroll pieces during their fight with Azure.

Conclusion

Sun Wukong knew MK was a monkey the whole time, lol—and fate has plans for MK. Great plans, or foul? Time will tell.

And Wukong has done his best to ensure that those plans are great.

[somevagrantchild]

Missing Loustat scene discovered in Anne Rice's diaries

I HAVE SOMETHING AMAZING TO SHARE WITH YOU!!

As I was reading Anne Rice's diaries in the special collection library at Tulane University while I was in New Orleans for the Vampire Ball, I discovered this intensely sexy scene she wrote between Louis and Lestat that never made it into her books. This is Anne Rice's original writing, never before shared anywhere online.

Anne Rice wrote this scene by hand in her diary dated November 6, 2015 (which she mentions is the day before Stan's birthday. He would have been 73😭). I have deduced that it is her very first (and very rough) draft of the scene that eventually became chapter 4 in Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis, aka the scene where Louis agrees to move into the chateau and be Lestat's partner/companion again. The final version of the scene in the book reads like wedding vows, serving as the beginning of their marriage in the modern era. As you'll see, the first draft was rather different. 

In Prince Lestat, Louis and Lestat's interactions are extremely brief, and they aren't able to talk beyond one stolen moment to reassure each other of their love. It would seem that in the six months between the end of Prince Lestat (when Louis thinks to himself that he will be with Lestat very soon), and the beginning of Atlantis (when that finally ends up happening), Louis and Lestat do not have any intimate conversation. They may have talked somewhat, but only briefly about superficial matters, or they may have not even spoken to each other once over those six months until Lestat asks Louis to meet him in New Orleans for chapter 4.

In an earlier diary entry, I found a note where Anne said she wanted their first reunion conversation to begin by finally addressing Louis dumping Lestat's body in the swamp after Claudia tried to kill him—something they have never once discussed. So when I came across this scene in a later diary, I could tell it was a direct follow-through on that idea. 

The scene begins with Lestat speaking to Louis, and it seems they are outside on the streets of New Orleans, but someplace private where they aren't being observed by mortals. This is different from the final book version with them sitting at a sticky table at the Café Du Monde (though it is similar to how Lestat tells us they walked around the city streets together for hours after the reunion scene was over). 

Anne headed this part of the diary entry with: Early on: L+L quarrel—

“I can forgive her for what she did. She was never a human being. She went from being an infant to a monster. But you—you stood there and watched. You carried my body into the swamps and dumped me there as if I were trash—you were the one I hated! How could you do that to me? Decades we’d been together!”

He stared at me for the longest time—not defensive, not angry.

“I could do it because I was afraid,” he said. “I didn’t know how I was going to live without you.”

“I don’t believe you. You were fine without me. You were preparing to sail to Europe. You were making plans.”

A torrent of words.

“Stop!” he said. “I’m here now. I love you! I thought you wanted me here! I thought you’d forgiven me. I thought we had a second chance, now, you and I. And miles to travel together!”

I nodded.

“A second chance!”

I nodded.

Then I took hold of him as if I was going to kill him. I threw him up against the wall and bit into his neck for the first time in two hundred years—the first time since the first time—and when the blood gushed into my mouth, I saw again—for the first time in two hundred years—his soul, his heart.

I was lost in his mind, his thoughts, his dreams, flashes…

I drew back—I’d drunk too much. He was being held there by me, his head bowed. I slapped him hard and when he opened his eyes, I pushed his open mouth against my neck. I forced his fangs into me.

And we were together, wrapped in one another’s arms…

Finally I pushed him back.

He was sitting on the paving stones, hair in his face, back to the wall. I took his hand and helped him up.

“Kiss me,” I said. “No, really kiss me.”

Finally I let him go.

“I can’t live without you! “ he said. “I swear, you wander off on me again, I…”

“I won’t. I won’t ever.”

We walked along in silence.

“He loves you too,” he said.

“Who?”

“The silent one, the one who’s never spoken to me, the one inside you.”

It was time. I could have lingered a half hour more in the old times, but the time was now.

The End 

------------------------------------

Above is the clean version, which I have corrected for missing punctuation, missing letters/words, and necessary dialogue tags.

Below is the original rough version as I have transcribed exactly from Anne Rice's handwritten diary.

------------------------------------

“I can forgive her for what she did. She was never a human being. She went from being an infant to a monster. But you—you stood there & watched. You carried my body in the swamps & dumped me there as if I were trash—you were the one I hated! How could you do that to me? Decades we’d been together!

He stared at me for the longest time—not defensive, not angry.

I could do it because I was afraid, he said. “I didn’t know how I was going to live without you.”

“I don’t believe. You were fine without me. You were preparing to sail to Europe. You were making plans.”

—A torrent of words.

“Stop! I’m here now. I love you! I thought you ’d wanted me here! I thought you’d forgive me. I thought we had a second chance, now, you & I. And miles to travel together!”

I nodded—

“A second chance!”

I nodded—

Then I took hold of him as if I was going to kill him. I threw him up against the wall & bit into his neck for the first time in 200 years—the first time since the first time—and when the blood gushed into my mouth I saw again—for the first time in 200 years—his soul, his heart—

I was lost in his mind, his thoughts, his dreams, flashes — (more)

I drew back—I’d drunk too much He was being held there by me, his head bowed. I slapped him hard & when he opened his eyes I pushed his open mouth against my neck. I forced his fangs into me.

And we were together, wrapped in one another arms — (more)

Finally I pushed him back.

He was sitting on the paving stones, hair in his face, back to the wall. I took his hand & helped him up.

Kiss me. No really kiss me.

Finally I let him go.

I can’t live without you! I swear, you wander off on me again, I … I ”

“I won’t. I won’t ever.”

We walked along in silence —

He loves you too

Who

The silent one, the one who’s never spoken to me, the one inside you.

It was time. I could have linger a half hour more in the old times, but was now —

The End 

------------------------------------

The spots where she wrote (more) are clearly areas where she intended to expound upon all Lestat was seeing and feeling in Louis's mind, soul, and blood, and then what he felt and saw as Louis was drinking from him. How I wish we could know what she would have written there! Also the lines that start or end with a — make me wonder if she intended to add more to those bits as well. Would she have actually written out Lestat's torrent of words?

Lestat's line "Kiss me. No really kiss me." isn't in quotation marks in Anne's diary. I chose to add them, because there were many other obviously spoken-aloud dialogue lines also without quotes. But it is possible that Lestat only thinks these words as he and Louis are kissing each other. It reminds me of in Queen of the Damned, when Daniel thinks, "I like kissing. And suggling with dead things, yes, hold me." The narration doesn't tell us Armand actually starts holding him, but Anne's style of using internal monologue makes it clear that's what happens in the action. So the "Kiss me." could be similar in this instance as well. And in that case it might mean Louis is the one who initiates the kiss, and this is Lestat’s internal “yes, yes!!” reaction to it. But I do suspect he is actually meant to be saying it aloud.

With the em dash at the end of it, the very last line could have been meant to continue: "but was now ______" was now...something. But considering she wrote "The End" after it, it seems like it was meant to be a final statement, so that is why I added the missing words I chose in my edited clean version.

Although this conversation is very different from the one we get in the final version of Atlantis, I do still see elements of it in the book's scene:

Louis's line "I can’t live without you! I swear, you wander off on me again, I …" became "so I'll come. And when you tire of me and want me gone, I'll hate you of course."

They still kiss, really kiss. In the book, it is moved to before their conversation, when Lestat first sees Louis in their Rue Royal flat, wearing the new clothes he ordered for him and Louis says, "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" and Lestat is so shocked, he's unable to respond.

They do still discuss Amel in the book version, in much more depth than he is mentioned here. Louis having never heard Amel's voice in his own head remains consistent. 

They do still go walking around the streets of the Garden District, though it happens after the conversation, not during it. Lestat does say they talked for hours during that walk, but about Amel and what's been happening to Lestat as Prince. Not about themselves or their past. 

MY THOUGHTS!

The confirmation here that Lestat never tasted Louis's blood before their new marriage begins in Atlantis is one of the most amazing parts to me, when combined with the offhand way that Lestat mentions what Louis's vampire blood tastes like in Blood Communion. Even though the final version of Atlantis never shows us Lestat drinking Louis's blood (either forcefully like this scene, or consensually in other ways), the mention in Blood Communion does confirm that it DOES happen off the page at some point during the years between Atlantis chapter 4 and the beginning of Blood Communion. 

We know that Louis drank much of Lestat's blood at the end of Merrick, and this was his first time doing it because we were told in previous books how much he resisted his powers being increased by drinking ANY other vampire's blood. It is nice to have it confirmed that Lestat never bit Louis or drank any of his blood in return either before or after Merrick. But now, after Lestat becomes Prince, this is now a new element to their relationship. It makes me consider more strongly that Anne perhaps meant to imply that they then for the first time began to engage in blood sharing the same romantic way Lestat did with Akasha in Queen of the Damned, and then in the even more explicit way she shows us with Rhoshamandes and Benedict in Prince Lestat. 

I don't take all Anne wrote in her diaries as canon. It is clear that much of what she wrote there were spitball ideas that she later chose to absolutely reject (as opposed to deciding they were true but she just didn't mention them in the books). But I do not see anything in this scene that the final versions of the books contradict. So even though this scene didn't actually happen in canon, we can believe that the feelings and emotions that drive this scene are still canon. And I love that for us 🥰

I have cross-posted this on ao3 to give us a good place to talk back and forth to each other about it in the comments section there. Reblog and reply to this post as much as you like, but if you want to have some conversations and share your own thoughts on what she wrote, ao3 will give us a much more organized place to do it, where other people will be able to easily find and read your meta as well.

[fox-bee926]

Who did this?

Harvey Specter x fem!reader

Masterlist A/N: Wow another one? I'm going to do one more after this and then answer an ask and put all my harvey fics on one post. Then after that who knows. I have an awesome aragorn x reader fic I've been playing around with so I might work on that. Definitely going to try and do more one shots to improve my writing. I really enjoy it but depression makes it a tad hard. Anyways! Enjoy! TW: **This story focuses on the physical abuse between the Reader character and her boyfriend. I am not responsible for the content you consume so please be advised. There are explanations of abuse, but no explicit scenes of abuse occurring.** abuse (physical and emotional), hurt/comfort, Harvey being very sweet, mention of painkillers but I'm talking like 2 tylenol or ibuprofen or something Word Count: 2.5k

You run across the street to the Pearson Hardman office building, just about soaking wet. All that protected you from the rain was a newspaper you bought right outside your building. You prayed all the way to work that it wouldn’t just completely break under the force of the rain. You had spent almost thirty minutes on makeup, twenty five more minutes than you usually spend. To go along with that, you couldn’t find an available taxi because of the rain. Not even the pain in your shoulder had let up, despite taking a couple painkillers.

Your boyfriend had gotten a bit angry with you last night after you went out socializing with some friends. It wasn’t your smartest move. You knew he didn’t like you to hang out with your guy friends without his permission. But you didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The feelings of your heart conflicted with your rational mind. All you know is you love him and he loves you. Which is why he gets upset when you go out without him. But then why wouldn’t he make time to go out with me alone?

You shook those thoughts out of your head as you swiped your card into the building. You took the time in the elevator to dry off with your sweater. Which was consequently soaked. Curses rang out in the elevator- cursing the sweater, the weather, your boyfriend, you didn’t know.

You sat down in the chair next to Donna and exchanged greetings. “How are we looking today, Donna?” You smiled as you saw Harvey sitting in his office. The only person getting into the office earlier than him was Donna.

“Full day as always. Oh, Jonathan from accounting asked for Harvey to look at his expense accounts for this last month. He won’t of course- but as long as they get to Harvey’s desk, Jon won’t speak another word about it until the next thousand dollar dinner with a client.” Donna goes back to typing rapidly on her computer. 

“And then the cycle continues,” You let out a hearty laugh for the first time since you left work last Friday. “I’ll get on that. Anything else while I’m in accounting?” You gather up different file folders that you need to take down to accounting anyway.

“Nope, say hi to Mr. Expense Forms for me!”

“Will do, Donna.”

You quickly walk to the elevator and down to the accounting department for Jonathan's expense reports. Harvey is still in the same spot as he was when you left as you open the door to his office. You make sure to open the door with your left arm, with the papers in your right. 

“I got a delivery for Harvey Specter from Mr. Jonathan Expense Forms from accounting. Fuming as always. You might want to lay off the fancy dinners for a week.” Harvey rolls his eyes at the notion.

“Sweetheart, you think I’m that good at my job that I don’t need fancy dinners to win over clients? You must think very highly of me.” He chuckles smugly as he writes words you can barely read on a legal pad. You deal his snark back just the same.

“Of course I think you’re good. You’re my boss, I’m legally obligated to think so.” You both laugh until you reach with your right arm to set the folder on his desk. You let out a noise just loud enough for Harvey to be concerned. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“It’s nothing, I just fell.”

At this, Harvey looks up. You were never one to be clumsy, let alone fall so hard as to hurt yourself. As Harvey’s eyes assess you, he notices a large dark bruise on your wrist- both your wrists in fact. 

His silence worries you, and you follow his eyes to your wrists. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry-” You quickly try to pull your sleeves down to cover the spots. Remnants of rain water drove through the foundation. 

Harvey takes a few deep breaths as you stand there in shocked silence. For the smallest second, you think he’s going to hurt you. Rationally, you know the notion is absurd, but the mind that has dealt with angry men keeps you silent.

Harvey finally speaks after taking a minute to process the information he’s pieced together.

“Who did this to you?”

You’re taken aback, that small part of your mind thinking he would call you unprofessional or weak. “My... My boyfriend. He just gets a little annoyed with me sometimes. It’s truly nothing. I’ll do better to cover them-”

“A good man being annoyed never results in bruises. How did this happen?” Harvey has to go against every part of his nature not to rush out and ask Donna everything about this man, then subsequently find him. He’s thinking that those boxing lessons are actually going to come in handy.

But he knows he can’t. He knows that if he moves like that, or moves at all, he’d terrify you. He can see how your eyes dart around. Towards the door, towards your wrists, and towards himself. He didn’t know how you would react if he even stood up.

“I fell into a bookshelf. He pushed me a bit and I lost balance.”

“You mean he shoved you into a shelf.”

The way Harvey phrased it made you feel uncomfortable. “That’s a bit harsh, but you could phrase it like that.”

He stared at you in disbelief. This wasn’t the woman he saw on a daily basis. The woman that dealt with almost every slimy man that came into the building. The woman that he had slowly fallen in love with since she arrived here.

The woman before him seemed like a shell of the woman he met three years ago, and he couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next.

“Do you know how you sound? You should never be bruised, shoved, or red eyed if you’re in love. That’s simply not how it is, and I’m sorry you’ve been made to believe that.”

At this, the dam broke.

Tears had been pooling in your eyes from the moment Harvey saw the bruises. But at his last words you let out a pained sob. It hadn't sunk in just how bad it had gotten. Your boyfriend had done this a few times before, but had never gotten so harsh until last night.

All the pain from the last year had come rushing in, and you were about to break right in front of your boss. Heavy tears started to run down your face. It was at this moment you were glad you never wore heavy makeup. You did your best to stifle the sounds and cries that tried to escape, but outside, Donna still saw through the glass. 

Immediately, Donna calmly walks in. She takes one look at you, then Harvey. With a single nod from Harvey, Donna lets out a quiet "Car is on its way."

Unfortunately that made you feel even worse. "I'm so sorry, Harvey. This is completely unprofessional-"

Harvey finally stands up and walks towards you. At this point, what you need isn't space. He places his hands as gentle as can be on your arms to coax you to look at him. And you do, but looking at your red eyes and wet tears streaming down your face up close make his heart break even more.

"I don't give a shit about professionalism. Donna is getting the car and my driver is going to take you home-"

"No! He's there, he's been trying to move in with me and doesn't have a day job. He's just been staying there..." Your sentence trails off as you’re trying to process what you’re actually saying. Are you really doing this?

"Okay, then my driver will take you to my place and give you a key. We'll talk about the next steps when I get home. I'll get you some things from your apartment, okay?"

The tears were gone purely by witnessing Harvey be so calm, and you nodded slowly. All you could do was follow the sound of his voice. Like a lighthouse in a raging storm. 

Donna entered the room quietly, "The car is here."

"Good. Donna will walk you out." You nodded, not saying a word. You turn to walk out of Harvey’s office, but he reaches out for your hand. “You’ll get through this, alright?”

You give a small smile. However, your mental state did not display the same sentiment. Your mind was reeling from what had happened in the last- what, 10? 15 minutes? 

Donna leads you out the back staircase as a gesture of mercy. She knew that you didn’t want anyone else to see you like this. Harvey wasn’t exaggerating his view of you. Everyone in the office saw you as an unbreakable force.

Harvey’s driver opens the door for you. You look back at Donna, who is smiling sweetly. “I promise, Harvey will take care of everything. The only thing you need to worry about is taking care of yourself, okay?” 

You gave Donna the same small smile you gave Harvey. You were at the edge of your sanity at this point. Now that you’ve gone through all the sadness and shock of the... situation, you were embarrassed. Angry. Angry at yourself for letting a man put his hands on you for a full year. Angry at Donna for knowing exactly what was going on and getting exactly what was needed. Angry at Harvey Specter for being so goddamn perfect that you couldn’t help the butterflies that always arose in your stomach whenever he talked to you. Angry at the world for putting you in this position.

Wordlessly, you exited the car once it stopped in front of Harvey’s building. You reached his apartment without thought. You took your heels off, and put your purse on the closest counter you saw. 

And you cried.

_______

 Harvey exited the elevator with a large box held in his hands. It was purely full of necessities. A week's change of clothes, toiletries, some books he knew were your favorite. Everything else he could buy new. He looked down and saw your heels on the ground and your purse on the table beside him.

Once he set down the box on the floor, he saw you. You looked even worse than at the office. Your beautiful hair was frizzy and pulled in odd directions. The worst part was the absolutely destroyed look on your face. Eyeshadow and liner were smudged on your red tinged eyes which stared into space in front of you. 

Harvey sees your body stiff as a board on the edge of his soft couch, seemingly ready to run at a moment’s thought. “Have you been sitting like that since you got here?”

“No. I’ve only just sat down.” Your arms leaned on your knees, hands folded in your lap.

Harvey tries to ignore the hoarse sound in your voice. “Well, you can relax a bit if you’d like. I got you some more comfortable clothes if you want to change.”

Your brows furrow as you think. “Did he give you any problems?” For the first time since he came in the front door you look at him. He was visibly more relaxed than he is in the office. His suit jacket was tossed on the coat rake next to the door and the sleeves of his dress shirt were neatly folded up his arms. He walked towards the kitchen to the freezer. 

“He didn’t get a chance. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you again.” He walks over to where you’re sitting on the couch and sets down an ice pack. His shirt was obviously wrinkled, and his knuckles held the slightest tinge of blue. The thought of Harvey hurting someone made your stomach flip, but you didn’t feel quite so bad for the receiving party.

“Let’s get some ice on that shoulder, huh?” He could tell you were still sensitive, but it felt more subdued than the scared woman he saw in his office.

You nodded in agreement about the ice pack. You hadn’t really stopped to think about it until he said something. As you unbutton your shirt to reveal your nude colored undershirt, you wince. The swelling of the bruise had gotten worse since you hadn’t taken anything for it. You hadn’t noticed the pain when you were crying, but now it just felt terrible.

“Let me help.” You give Harvey a look when the words come out of his mouth, a glimpse of that fiery woman that he knows. But you sigh and relent. You managed to undo a few buttons at least before Harvey steps in.

He unbuttons your shirt down to your stomach and pulls the shoulder of the shirt down just enough to slide the ice pack onto the skin. As soon as it’s securely placed between you and the couch, you let out a groan. In relief or pain, you don’t know. All you knew was that the cold felt absolutely wonderful on your swelled skin.

You and Harvey stay like that for a while, the exact amount of minutes you don’t know and neither does he. Harvey is the first to speak.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” 

You give him a look that says “I wonder why, dumbass.” But you refrain. “I’m thinking.”

He finally sits next to you on the couch and reaches his arm to grasp the top of the cushions. In his mind he excuses it as getting more comfortable, but the opportunity to touch you is also a bonus. Harvey was not a man of wise words for comfort, moreso actions and touch.

In a singsong voice, trying to lighten the mood, he says “Whatcha thinkin’ about.”

You smile a true smile and look towards him. Then the thoughts in your head come rushing in and the smile falls from your face. “I’m thinking about how I’ve been with him for so long that I don’t know how to live my life without him. So much of my life has been conforming to his ideals, his feelings. How am I supposed to love and be loved after him? After I’ve split my soul into so many pieces that I’ve lost track of where they all are?”

Both of you sit in silence, not sure what to say.

“I was definitely not expecting that.”

“I am... extremely sorry I said that, please just ignore-”

“I wasn’t finished, sweetheart. Firstly, I think you should see a professional about these feelings. But in the meantime, we can work on that together.” Harvey smiles, but then falters. “I- I mean, if you want. I’m not trying to get in your pants, I promise, all I’m saying is that I’m here whenever and you can stay as long as you want and-”

“Thank you, Harvey. It means a lot to hear you say that.” You laugh at the sight of a flustered Harvey Specter.

“To paraphrase, you're not alone in this. Not ever.”

You reach over with your good arm and pull him into as much of a hug as you can muster. In return, he pulls you close. Neither of you ever want to leave.

[alia-schlatt]

"You're beautiful"||JSchlatt

♡ Summery ♡

Jokingly flirting turns Schlatt into a teddy bear

♡ Warnings ♡

Sfw but mentions of smut while flirting.

♡ Word Count ♡

The total words are 623

♡ Authors Note ♡

Hi loves!! This is my first time writing and posting on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy♡

"Ight I think imma log off, I gotta be up early for some market the missus wants to go to," Schlatt tells his friends on the other side of the discord call. I watch as he shakes his head and closes the game. "Sorry boys, I'll see you later. Bye." He says before he ends the call.

"You could have played longer," I tell him. "Nah, I'm tired." He says, closing a few apps on his computer. "What have you been doing while I've been gaming Toots?" He asks. I look down at the page of quite literal porn on my iPad. "Just reading," I smile. "Reading? Is it that filthy shit again?" He asks.

Schlatt picked up a book of mine once about a year ago and opened it to a random page that just so happened to be a smut scene. He's never let it go since.

"No, nothing like that," I say, biting my tongue. I watch as he stands and rolls the chair into the socket of the desk before leaning down to touch his toes. He stands straight and stretches side to side before lifting his arms up and stretching his back.

His shirt lifts a bit, and my eyes immediately go towards a V-line of hair leading into his pants. "What you looking at sugartits?" He questions. "Nothing," I snap immediately. Looking into his eyes, he smirks, knowing he caught me. "We gonna head to bed soon?" He asks, and I nod.

"It's hot in here," He says, starting to take off his hoodie. As he lifts it over his head, my eyes immediately and involuntarily go back to that V-line.

My view is blocked by a blob of red hurling towards my face. It hits me with a soft sting. I stare at the hoodie of his that now lays in my hands. "Hey, what was that for?" I forow my brow. "That's what happens when you let those porny books get inside your mind and affect your thinking." He jokes.

"And why not? You seemed to like it last night," I smirk.

"God, you're such a brat,"

"Your brat," I wink.

Jay and I did this a lot. We called it friendly flirting. Although yes, we were a couple, we would often flirt with each other like you would a friend.

"You think you're such a smart ass, but what would happen if I-" he doesn't finish the sentence but instead jumps onto the bed on which I'm sitting and starts tickling me.

I turn into a fit of laughter as I try to get him to stop. "Jay -" I try to catch my breath. "Stop -" another wave of giggles hit me. It's not long until I'm pinned under him and still a laughing mess. I don't even realize he's stopped tickling me until he leans down and kisses my forehead.

When he pulls away, I look up into his eyes, and a smile spreads across my cheek.

"Hi," I whisper.

"Hey Toots," He whispers back.

We stared at each other for a long while before he scoffed.

"You're so beautiful, ya know that?" He says.

"Jay -" I try to pass off the compliment.

"No, my love. You're beautiful, I don't think you'll ever be able to see yourself the way I do. And God, I wish you could. You're the most perfect woman in the entire world. What I did to deserve you, fuck I'll never know" He tells me.

My stomach erupts with butterflies. "Who are you, and what have you done with Jay?" I try joke, and he rolls off me.

He turns to me, and I look at him.

"I love you, Toots."

"I love you too, big guy"

[the-thing-withfeathers]

SAVE A HORSE…

a/n: this is part 1 to a two or three part series!! this is probably the first time i’ve written anything in a LONG ASS TIME. but i hope y’all enjoy it, i’ll be writing more of cowgirl!mads soon. i was gonna do it all in one go but i realise this shit is CHUNKY AS HELL 😫 so please be patient with me while i get part 2 out! i promise y’all it’ll get steamier, i just gotta set the scene!

update: read part 2 here!

pairing: cowgirl!madison beer x f!reader

tws: parental arguments, eventual smut, mention of horse shit— literally.

summary: you’re a little bit of a delinquent and your parents have had enough. they send you to your grandparents farm where you’re put to the test and humbled to the bone. however, they have an incredibly hot farmhand that just might make it all worth it.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

“we didn’t raise you to be like this.”

“well, who else did?!”

sitting at the back of your parents’ truck, it was almost reminiscent of the back of the police car. you were on your way to a different kind of prison anyways. your parents were talking over the faint noise of the radio while you sat in silence.

you were on your way to your grandparents’ farm. it was hard to believe that your bull-wrangling nan & pop were so different from your corporate parents, you begin to wonder how your mom was raised on that land.

as the truck came to a stop, your parents turned around to face you.

“hey kiddo, it’s only temporary. you know we’re only doing this cause we love you…”

“whatever.” you said, blowing a raspberry at them while you took your earphones out and tucked them into your bag’s side pocket.

your parents turned back to face each other, sheepish smiles starting to form on their faces. they began to question if they were doing the right thing, but as far as you were concerned, there wasn’t any going back from here.

you saw an older couple start to walk towards the driveway, massive smiles on their faces like they didn’t have a care in the world. your dad stepped out of the driver’s seat to shake your grandfather’s hand while your mom gave your grandmother a hug. you watched them talk for a while before your dad opened your door up.

“dad… please… i’ll do anything…” you whispered as the smell of fresh manure hit your nostrils.

“this is anything.” he muttered before turning to the back of the truck and grabbing two luggages out.

you sighed in defeat and hopped out of the truck, lugging your backpack along with you. your grandparents looked at you with pity, they know what happened but it seems like they’re the first people not to hold it against you. your grandmother slowly approached, opening her arms as you walked towards her and gave her a stiff hug.

“i’m sorry sweetie, i know you would probably prefer to stay home. but we’ll try and do right by you as much as we can, alright?” she whispered softly into your ear. it took everything in you not to break down right then and there. after all, you haven’t seen your grandparents in a while, who were you to start crying out of nowhere?

your grandfather stood behind your grandmother with a sad smile. you two used to be so close when you were a kid. in his old age, he never failed to chase you around while you were still a bundle of energy. you know he tried not to show it but you couldn’t help but see disappointment behind those eyes.

“welp, that’s the last of it.” your dad walked back down the driveway, you hadn’t even realised that your parents walked your luggage all the way to the house already.

“you’re not staying for dinner?” your grandfather asked.

“nah, not a long drive ahead of us.” your mom said, standing next to her dad to give him a hug.

your parents & grandparents exchanged goodbyes before your parents walked up to you.

“six months, that’s all it is. then we’ll be right back.” your mom reassured you. she tried to hug you but you stepped back. she huffed. “you’ll be grateful, y’know?” she said, her tone a bit more harsh. she turned sharply and walked her way back to the car.

your dad just gave you a wave, noticing that interaction you had. he thought it would be better to just keep his distance. all you did was nod at him.

they drove off into the sunset, leaving you behind. in the middle of nowhere.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

your grandparents had dinner set up on the table before you even got there. it smelled amazing, you’ll give them that. you were starved from the drive, choosing to hang back from the pit stop.

they both sat down, inviting you to join them. the first few minutes of dinner were silent, to be fair though, you were kind of wolfing down the chili that grandma had cooked. you put some on your plate then it was gone in the blink of an eye.

your grandfather cleared his throat.

“you know, despite everything. we’re glad to have you here. it’s been a really long time since you’ve come to visit the farm. we’ve always come to the city but… this might be a blessing in disguise.” he said through the spoonful of chili in his mouth. you almost laughed at the sight of him, cracking a smile instead.

“it looks like how i remember it, pop.” you shrugged, glancing around the dining room.

“we try to keep it that way, baby.” your grandma chimed in. “this place is full of memories. memories are meant to be remembered!” she said with a jump in her tone.

“i’m going to disappoint you both. you know i’m not made for farm work.” you sneered a little bit, thinking of the 6am wake-up—

“5am wake upright not your thing?” fuck.

thinking of the 5am wake up— was not sitting well with you.

“no. not at all.” you shook your head, pushing your plate backwards. “i don’t even see animals on a daily basis, the most we get in the city are pigeons. i don’t even have the right clothes!”

“we took care of that!” your grandma excitedly said. “you’ve got enough clothes to last you a week then you’ll have to wash them. we tried to keep it as stylish as possible.”

you know she was just trying to make you feel better. there was no way you were going to be able to pull off the expected flannel get-up.

silence fell over the table as your grandparents finished their food as well. you stood up from the table, ready to head to your bedroom.

“oh— well— now hang on sweetie—“ your grandmother interjected. “you have to excuse yourself… and even then, someone’s gotta help with the washing up.”

you frozen in place and sighed dejectedly. you start clumsily piling the plates together and heading for the sink. you had no idea what you were doing, lazily scrubbing the plates.

when you were done, you made your way up to your bedroom where the open closet was full of new clothes. you knew you would have to work double time to pull them off. your thoughts were interrupted by footsteps.

“you can sleep in tomorrow but you’ll be expected to join us in checking on everything. it’ll be general upkeep. you’ll also meet our best farmhand, she’ll mainly be the one showing you the ropes around here.” your grandmother stood at the doorway. you simply nodded at her and rubbed your eyes.

“night, dear.” she said, stepping back and walking back down the hallway.

“night…” you mumbled, too soft for her to hear.

you changed yourself into a matching pajama set, you stuck out like a damn sore thumb. you’d have to figure out something else to wear to bed if you wanted to avoid all the teasing.

safe to say, as your eyes fell shut almost immediately, tomorrow was going to be hard.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

as much as you would’ve liked to sleep in until the double digits, your grandparents failed to tell you that they trained a rooster.

you yawned as you started to stir, covering your ears to drown out the endless crowing of this damned rooster. you shut your eyes as tight as you could but nothing seemed to work. you opened your phone to see that first and foremost, there were barely any bars around but enough to get decent signal. secondly, it was 5am— they really meant it when they said 5am wake-up call. you slowly sat up in bed, glancing over at your suitcases then glancing over at your closet. you had a choice to make.

after about eight wardrobe changes, you made your way downstairs in a red & black flannel tucked into some high rise blue jeans. your grandparents were already at the table eating some breakfast.

“well this is a surprise. i take it you’ve met sunny.” your grandfather snorted.

“sunny?” you asked.

“the rooster.” he laughed softly. “he’s a bit relentless. sorry darl, i know you wanted to sleep in. but hey, you’ll be regulating your sleep schedule in no time—“ your grandfather was cut off by the backdoor swinging open.

oh. my. god.

when your grandparents said farmhand, you were expecting a bucktoothed scrawny cowboy from buttfuck nowhere. this woman was gorgeous.

dark brunette with highlights. piercing brown eyes that you couldn’t stop looking away from. an open blue flannel tied up where a low cut gray tanktop could be seen. high rise jeans that were just ever so slightly lighter than yours. a beige cowgirl hat sitting perfectly on her head.

“good mornin’ sir, ma’am.” and a fucking southern drawl to die for.

“madison! this is our granddaughter.” your grandfather said from the table. “why don’t you join us for breakfast and get to know each other a little bit better.”

you stood there stunned, you have no idea if you drooled a little bit.

“sure thing, sir. you know i love the food in this household.” she took her hat off, resting it on one of the hooks by the door. “thank you, ma’am.” she said as your grandmother served her a plate. she sat down on the side with two empty chairs, prompting you to sit down next to her.

you slowly lowered yourself into the chair, still looking over at her.

“what? did you expect a man?” madison felt your eyes on her.

“maybe.” you choked out, slowly serving yourself a plate. “not that i’m complaining. i’m actually kind of glad that you aren’t a man.” you shrug.

“oh honey—“ honey?! “i’m so much better.”

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the next hour was absolutely dreadful. your grandparents tasked madison with showing you around the farm. you thought they’d come along until they were loading up your grandfather’s truck, saying how they had to go to the shops. you also thought you knew the farm well enough in your memories, you were completely wrong.

madison took you around the farm in her truck. from the unfenced area that your grandfather and her had yet to finish from the massive pile of stinking manure where they wanted to start a garden, it was hard to keep your eyes off her. the hat on her head, her hand on the stickshift that should be between—

“my favorite place! the barn.” she stopped the truck, parking it just in front of an incredibly large big red barn. has that always been there? “your grandparents expanded it since you were a kid.”

“you talk like you’re so much older than me. you look my age.”

“well, that’s for me to know and you to find out.” she hopped out of the truck, waiting for you to follow.

the truck being so high up made you need to jump. you heard her chuckle softly witnessing the sight. “shut up. i’ll get the hang of it.”

“i’m sure you will.” she said, pulling open the door. immediately, you heard stomping. horses.

“caring for the animals will be the most tasking thing here. i know it sounds more appealing than shovelling dirt but dirt doesn’t have hooves!” she said, walking towards a beautiful brown stallion. “i’ve made it my personal goal to make sure that you and this fella get at least past acquaintances.” she put her boot on one of the hinges on the low door keeping his stable closed, swinging herself over and sitting down on the door. “this is stanley.”

“stanley? i was expecting a different name.” you snickered.

“hey, your grandpa named him. you’ll have to ask him about the name.” she pet stanley’s head gently, he let out noises that you weren’t sure were affectionate or grumpy.

you took a step forward, reaching your hand out to the stallion. he immediately snorted and took several steps back, shaking his head while madison pulled on his reigns to calm him.

“woaaah, buddy.” she said, patting his head. “he doesn’t warm up to people very often.” she said with a laugh before turning to face you. your face was dropped like you’d just been kicked in the gut. in your head, you were asking yourself if your energy was so bad that not a single animal would like you.

“they have so many animals.” you whispered, breaking your gaze away from stanley & madison, trying to fill the silence. you were slightly intimidated by the noises in the barn. oinks, bleeting, more that you couldn’t identify. you were sure they had even more animals than that too. you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to calm the anxiety.

madison looked over at you, dismounting the door she was sitting on. she came closer to you.

“it’ll be okay. you’ll get the hang of it.” she reassured you with a smile. “when your grandparents told me about you and yours, i thought you’d be more… snappy— angry about this. coming from the city, i mean.”

“i’m not. i’m not angry. i’m just gonna let my grandparents down—“ you scoffed suddenly. “i don’t know why i’m telling you this anyway.” you walked off, shutting yourself off and looking around at all the other stables.

“there’s the snappy!” madison called after you, following shortly after.

you kept walking as the sound of her boots followed.

“hey, you’ll be alright. it took me a while to get on stanley’s good side too.” she said, trying to reassure you again.

“uh huh.” you said, “but you aren’t me.”

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

when your grandparents returned home, you and madison were just getting back from your trip. madison immediately hopped out of the truck before it even stopped to help your grandparents. you stayed back until she signalled for you to help too— were you really that out of touch?

you walked towards your grandfather, taking the bags from him. “here, let me.” you said and he shot you a surprised smile, watching you walk into the house.

when all the bags were moved in, the sun was just about to set.

“would you like dinner, madison?” your grandmother asked. you eyed the brunette as you helped put away the groceries, your grandfather showing you where everything went.

“no, thank you, ma’am. i better be getting back home. my family will be waiting for me.” she said, walking towards the front door.

“well, thanks for all your hard work today. we appreciate you being part of the welcome party.” your grandma joked. “we’ll see you again tomorrow.” she said, handing madison a handful of cash. she nodded and tipped her hat at you.

“was nice to meet you, snappy.” she said, smirking at you. you felt your breath hitch in your throat from the newly acquired nickname. you only waved in response.

maybe the farm wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[barleyo]

*licks teeth and pins u against the wall* so uh...how bout one of those big bro leon fics, *I say with a glint in my eyes*

Purist.

Big Bro! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: *quivers and covers chest nervously* w-w-well, i-i guess i could write a— a little something... *eyes shift awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with a gulp* uhm... here. i, uh, i hope you enjoy... (some of the dialogue is inspired by the 2007 movie teeth :3)

Tags: incest (brother-sister)/(daddy-daughter mentioned), coercion, dub-con, religious themes, allusion to p in v/a /no real penetration mentioned, fingering (anal and vaginal f receiving), brief mentions of previous sexual assault/abuse

Wordcount: 2.1k

You spent the entirety of your mid to late teen years obsessed with God. With purity. With salvation. Your parents dragging you and your brother, Leon, to church must've eventually struck a cord with you. Ever since the youth pastor chewed up that bubblegum and offered it around to everyone, making the point that nobody wanted a tainted 'treat,' the idea of staying untouched seemed to just click into place for you. Your body was a sacred thing, not to be touched or looked at lustfully by any man. 

Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation, as the great St. Augustine said. Why not swear yourself to chastity? A bond of complete celibacy, of purity, promised by you to your Lord.

Unfortunately, your big brother didn't seem to feel the same way.

Leon was your exact opposite, in the way that he couldn't spend a night alone. While you would sit in your room, reading or studying like a proper girl, the wanton sound of a random female companion of his would rip through the paper thin walls of your parent's house. Every night, or what felt like it, he would bring home a 'date,' as you called them, though, he would sooner call them 'easy sluts.' 

You weren't easy. Leon liked that about you. Every crude joke he made at your expense, wether at the dinner table or in the brief expanse of the hallway near your rooms, you shut down immediately. You were too maidenly for your own good, and unafraid to show it. Oh, he really liked it. Not like those other whores he'd snatch up on the way home, were you? His boyish, smug grins did nothing to bring you, his darling little sister, to your knees in the way it did other women your age. 

Maybe that was why he did it— bringing those girls over. He knew good and well you could hear them— hear him— through the thin walls. He could tell based on the way you looked at him with scornful eyes the morning after as he accompanied the umpteenth girl of his to the front door, tactfully kicking her out with the promise of calling her back. Of course, he did no such thing, the womanizer that he was. He'd wink at you. Taunting you. 

Maybe he did all of this to tempt you, to show you what you were missing out on. Maybe he was sending you a message. An offer? No. The more likely option was that he just liked to tease you. Yes, that seemed more 'brotherly.'

It was another night. Another sleepless night of being tormented by the lewd sounds coming from your older brother's room. You could practically hear the individual squeak of every spring in his old mattress as he used whatever girl he had with him now. You heard her muffled voice. Poor girl must've had her face pushed into the pillow. Maybe she was ugly. Leon always let the pretty ones look at him while he sexed them up— you could tell because you heard their voices much clearer in the night. 

It was nearly melodic. Hearing almost every movement between the two. You could piece it together in your mind, and before you knew it, you had your eyes tightly shut, imagining the scene.

You pictured it in more detail than you thought the Lord would be appreciative of. You saw your brother's toned back with his tapered waist, his taut muscles clenching and coated in a slick sheen of sweat as he worked his hips against a faceless girl's heat. It was a dance. You seemed to imagine it more passionate than it sounded. Where the girl next door was certainly getting pounded, your imaginary girl was being treated tender and soft. Gentle strokes accompanied by a firm grasp. 

You were yet again reminded the next day of how much different your real brother was to the version of him your mind conjured up the previous night. Not nearly as sweet, that was for sure. 

You pushed into his room, not bothering to give him the dignity of a knock. That was another thing he liked about you. For how meek and God-fearing you seemed to be, you could be a real bitch to your dear ol' brother. He found it sort of funny, the juxtaposition between how you really were and how his lackadaisical manner made you act. 

"We need to talk about your girlfriends," you said, slamming his door behind you. The breeze caused by the door made a few of his classless pin-up girl posters swish upwards, hanging on for their lives against the black walls of his room by the tiny scraps of tape he stuck them with. 

"Don't have any," Leon said casually, legs spread and arms over his chest. He tossed a baseball up and down, catching it in his palm as he leaned his head against his headboard. 

You huffed and stomped over to his bedside to snatch the baseball. He let you grab it, shooting you an amused grin as you palmed the ball far too big for your hand. 

"Well, whatever you want to call them—"

"Let's just call them whores, yeah?"

"I'm not going to call them that," you spat, eyebrows raising into your hairline. "Your 'friends.' How about that? Your 'friends' need to stop coming around. I can't live like this. I can't sleep!"

"Awh, poor thing. Your grade in 'prissy bitch' class must be dropping now. Y'fall asleep during your stick-up-the-ass exam, college girl?" he asked, nose scrunching teasingly as he eyed you. He reveled in how your offended look grew. 

"Can you take anything seriously, you ass?" You dropped his baseball to the floor and kicked it under his bed, to which he mumbled 'bitch' and an additional explicative or another under his breath. "Last night was ridiculous. I didn't get a wink of sleep. These walls aren't nearly as thick as you act like they are."

"Oh, you heard that? What, it turn you on or something?"

You stilled, arms rising back to cover your chest defensively. It didn't turn you on, per se, but it did something, that was for damn sure. You weren't about to confess that to Leon, though. Not if you had a choice. 

"No, it did not 'turn me on,' Leon. Do you hear yourself when you speak, or does everything come out on instinct?"

"Instinct. So, Virgin Mary, what're you harassing me about now? You don't enjoy the sweet, sweet sound of random chicks getting smashed?"

He sat up straight, back flush to his headboard now as he turned to face you. 

You got a good look at his features. Looked a lot like your dad. Score! Perfect excuse, suddenly coming to mind.

"No, I don't. I'm sure daddy doesn't appreciate it either," you said, trying to guard yourself with the veil of your father. 

Leon snorted. "Well, I guess daddy dearest will just have to come tell me himself then, won't he? Seems like he's too drunk nowadays to hear anything," he said, voice nearing bitter territory. 

"Don't talk about dad like that," your voice taking on a more protective edge in your father's defense. "He's going through a rough time. He doesn't need your shit."

"And I don't need yours. This whole abstinence thing has your horse pretty high, you know." Leon shifted his legs over the side of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. Most of the humor he had left in his voice had drained out, being replaced with a seriousness. "You aren't slick."

You narrowed your eyes at him, eyebrows pinching together. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, sis," he said, mocking tone lacing the nickname, "we both know who you're saving yourself for, and I've been real patient up until now. I'm not gonna wait forever."

You wanted to repeat yourself, you wanted to ask just what the hell he meant by that, but he interrupted your train of thought.

"You think I couldn't hear you listening like a little pervert? Hell, even before I started bringing girls home. I couldn't jerk off without seeing you peeking through the crack in my door. Like I said, you aren't slick. You act like you're all hard and saintly, but you're just a nasty pervert, aren't you?"

So many thoughts ran through your head. So many emotions. Embarrassment, for one, at the fact that he knew of your dirty secrets regarding him. Anger at how casually he was airing this information. A strange warmth, as well, at how he teased you. You should've been screaming at him, at twisting this around on him, but you couldn't. 

"I'm sorry," you managed to squeak out, eyes dropping to your feet in shame. 

Leon just hummed in response, clearly not in dire need of an apology. In fact, he looked rather unfazed, like it was no problem for him at all.

"If you want to apologize, you can bring your little ass over here. Sit down, pervert."

"I don't know why you're acting so fidgety about this. You give it up to dad all the time, what's so different about me?"

Fuck. Leon really knew everything about you. This entire night was like having someone read your diary out loud to you, hearing every 'secret' you thought you had kept so well. 

"Shut up," you said, eyes clenched shut tightly as Leon curled his fingers up against your g-spot again. You bit back the urge to whine or moan. With how much he was teasing you, you didn't feel that he deserved the satisfaction. 

"Wonder what everyone would think. Daddy's good girl is good for more than she lets on, huh? Bet everyone already knows. There's no way a girl like you hasn't been taken before. Ain't a man on earth who wouldn't try it, y'know?"

You hated how that made you tighten around his fingers. Was that really what made you cum? Your brother calling you rapeable? The entire situation was so far out of your wildest imagination. A far cry from what the other girls he entertained had experienced, you were sure of that. 

Or, maybe, the way that he let your face upwards was what did it for you. Last you remembered, the rule was pretty girls faced up, ugly girls got flipped. Guess that counts for something. 

"I'm real fascinated by your pussy," Leon said after a few moments of silence. He was sitting between your legs, cock sprung free from his boxers as he kept his fingers plugged into your hole. He watched as your hole continued to kick and squeeze over his two digits. 

"I can tell. You won't stop lookin' at it," you mumbled, trying and failing to prop yourself up on your palms. 

"Not what I meant. Just meant it's pretty."

You don't know why you blushed at such a meaningless, near-objectifying compliment. A small part of you said that if Leon had seen so many in his life, and he said yours was pretty, then surely that meant something. You felt honored, in a weird way. 

"Bet it'll be even tighter around my cock."

"What? No, no, we can't do that, Leon," you said quickly, pulling away from his finger with a squelch. You tried to pull your panties up, but he stopped you. 

"Who says?"

You thought about it. You wanted it, sure. Really bad, actually. So, who says? Who said that you couldn't take a brief pause from chastity? You quickly told yourself what you said each time your father got a little too drunk a little too late a night and missed your mother a little too much. 

"Just be gentle," you said, exactly how you would on the nights where you looked a little too much like your mother. 

"Don't worry."

You expected to feel his cock swab against your folds. You expected to feel the eerily familiar pinch and stretch of being penetrated, but it didn't come. Your walls clenched almost eagerly around nothing. 

Instead, your eyes widened in shock at the feeling of a finger trailing around your asshole. Leon aimed his head forward and spat a fat glob onto your rim, rubbing it around to coat your hole. 

"Wait— Leon! Don't do that," you whined, feeling him finger sink in and stretch the ring of muscle. 

"You aren't a true-virgin anywhere else, sis. I wanna pop this cherry before someone gets to it before I do."

God, he was cruel. What was crueler was the way he prodded another finger into your hole like it was nothing. At least he had the awareness to spit again, coating the middles of his fingers in an attempt to ease the pain in your end. It worked, as well as spit could. 

His head dipped down and his tongue latched to your clit, giving it a few purposeful sucks before pressing a kiss to it too, piercing eyes looking at you from between your thighs. 

"Besides, anal doesn't really count, right? Isn't that what all you pure-not-so-pure girls say?"

[bettyfrommars]

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

Eddie x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST PLAYLIST

It's 1987, the same year the movie Dirty Dancing was originally released. 21-year-old reader is spending the summer with her dad and aunt at an all-inclusive resort in Indiana while she figures out what she wants to do with her life. After that summer, nothing will never be the same. Eddie is in his late 20’s and works as maintenance staff, he is also the frontman for the house band, begrudgingly delivering top 40 hits for the guests, and a secret third thing. When work is over, there is a completely different scene happening at a place the employees call The Hideout. Wayne is the head maintenance man, Chrissy is a metalhead, and a few other surprises. Bonus: Steve as a sexy, tattooed musician because I can't help myself.

my blog is always 18+only, MDNI please. The only warnings for the first chapter have to do with mention of a death of a parent, mention of grief, allusions to depression, a tiny bit of aggression, and alcohol consumption. But please read chapter warnings as the story progresses, because there will be angst, hurt/comfort, violence (fighting), and smut. Reader is called Bird as a nickname.

A/N: this is a rewrite of an OC fic I wrote over a year ago, and damn, I really needed to change a lot because my writing has evolved so much. I know I posted a snippet last week, but it's all been changed. Thank you to those who have been excited about this, I know Dirty Dancing is a cherished film, so I am treating this retelling with reverence, while adding some creative spins, and I truly hope you enjoy. The ST characters in this fic do not know each other in the same way they did in the show. For instance, Eddie, Steve, and Chrissy all grew up together, but I do my best to stick with their original character traits. This first part lines up very close with the film, but after that, it diverges and becomes a bit different. Same story line, but also not.

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

word count: 6.3k

The soft murmur of a talk radio station hummed in the cement gray Mercedes-Benz 560, with your dad behind the wheel and his sister, your aunt Kim, in the passenger seat.  From the backseat, you stared out the window with your headphones on, wishing for rain.  The scenery was what you would expect from a place on earth that everyone considered idyllic, but you’d been exposed to so much lush greenery with that bright blue, theater backdrop of a sky for the last hour that you were starting to get a headache. 

You pushed your wayfarer sunglasses up to rub the bridge of  your nose, and then flipped the tape over in your Walkman before clicking it shut to press play.  You were listening to a mixtape you’d made especially for the trip, the spine even said “road trip from hell”, but the first one on side b was Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac, and you closed your eyes for the next several songs.  You were doing your best not to think about how you’d be trapped in BFE Indiana for a whole month.

You were also doing your best not to think about how your mother would not be home when you got back, or worse yet, the fact that you would never see her again.  Never feel her generous hugs in those Laura Ashley dresses, smelling of Shalimar; never hear her voice at the other end of the line reminding you to eat something.  

Your aunt said your name and your eyes snapped open.  It was perfect timing because tears were beginning to form at your lash line. She had turned around in her seat and was trying to get your attention.

You pulled your headphones down around your neck.  “Sorry?”

“The lake,” the expression on her face harbored more excitement than you’d ever felt in your entire life.  “Isn’t it gorgeous? We’re going to get pedicures at the spa tomorrow, I already booked it.”

You glanced at your father’s stoic profile and then back to Kim. You felt bad for your aunt, getting stuck on a trip with two sad, mopey fucks who were too depressed to get excited about the things that thrilled normal people.  You were the walking wounded.

“Pedicures, great,” your smile did not reach your eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice, as her enthusiasm doggedly refused to wane.  

It had been almost four months since you lost her, and the world was still too…bright.  Everyone was so talkative and alive and you couldn’t relate. 

You looked out over the smooth expanse of lake that was nestled perfectly in the trees like you were in some type of miniature scale model rebuild of a town.  Your aunt asked your dad, Owen, if he was still listening to the news, and when he shook his head, she changed the radio station to a golden oldies station and was satisfied with the tune Big Girls Don’t Cry by Frankie Vallie.

“You’ll love this cabin, Bird,” your dad said to you as the Mercedes crested the hill and began to maneuver down to your destination on a narrow, two-lane highway flanked with towering trees.  A big green and white sign welcomed them to Hawkins Landing.  “There’s a whole top floor where you can set up for your lessons.”

You turned away, back to the window, hiding the way your nose wrinkled.  You thought maybe a perk of this getaway would be to have a break from practicing the cello you’d been tied to for over a decade, but no luck.  He’d been forced to give up his dream of being a musician, and now you were expected to carry the torch for him.  

You tried to come up with one thing you did in life that was not to please someone else, or boost some idea they had about you, and couldn’t come up with squat.

Besides reading.  And taking long walks with music to clear your head.  Those two were yours, and they could only be taken from your cold, dead, hands.

From the Hawkins Landing brochure your aunt had given you, it was clear that the property was enormous.  Some 30 or 40 guest cabins scattered around, a main house that functioned as a hotel but also housed two different restaurants.  A golf course, boat rentals, tennis courts, an outdoor theater, and a third restaurant situated on the water.  Along with the full service spa, there were indoor and outdoor swimming pools, plus any class you could imagine wanting to take, from salsa dancing and water skiing, to chess and crochet. 

Hawkins Landing was like a camp for adults who enjoyed alcoholic beverages.

There was a security checkpoint at the main entrance with two guards inside.  The taller one with the neatly trimmed red beard recognized your father from the jacket cover on one of his many books.  Thrillers mostly, horror if you squint.  He nervously asked for an autograph, but Owen was very polite, adjusting his tortoise shell glass as he took the black marker that the guard was offering him.  

After the checkpoint, it wasn’t long before the road opened into an expansive rose garden with a large fountain dead center, and the big main house with its wrap-around porch just to the right.  You pushed your sunglasses up to get a look at the people mingling around, getting the idea that the median age there was 45, and it was mostly families.  

The guards had given your dad a foldout map of the property and told him to check in at the main house to get the keys to the cabin they were staying in. The car moved at a crawl at the roundabout, and then came to park where a sign announced new guest check-ins.  

Your dad told you to sit tight while he went in to grab the keys, and your attention trailed off to a black golf cart with a white awning that wheeled in like a racecar and took position in front of the Mercedes.  It sat there close to the curb, idling.  You could see there was a woman behind the wheel, and she was looking straight ahead, giving you her profile.  Chin length, dark gold hair, just long enough for a ponytail, and the words “Hawkins Landing Staff” written in yellow cursive on the back of her navy blue jacket.  Where her sleeve was pushed up at her elbow, you noticed some type of tattooed lettering there, and her fingernails were painted black.  

Up ahead, you caught sight of someone strolling down the sidewalk toward the car with a hand in his pocket. It was a guy with honey tipped chocolate hair styled in a pompadour with a curl that bounced at his forehead, wearing tan chinos and a maroon, button down short sleeve with the square bulge of a pack of smokes in his front pocket. A tattoo peeked out from the V of his shirt, and there was another design on his bicep. He wore a pinky ring on one hand and rolled a toothpick around in his mouth as he sidled up to the golf cart to say something to the woman driving it.  They bumped knuckles and talked for a bit like they were very familiar, him with one foot up on the running board of the cart.

“Steve, there you are,” from the open window, your attention bounced to a short, dark haired woman who’d just come out of the building and stood alongside your dad on the sidewalk.  A closer look told you that her name tag said Joyce.  

The guy with the toothpick in his mouth straightened, smoothing the front of his shirt with his hand.  “Hey Joyce, I was just—”

Apparently uninterested in what he was about to say, she took him by the crook of the arm.  She introduced you all by your family name, and let him know that you were “her special guests”, and you assumed that had to do with your dad being a famous author, or maybe she said that about every new family.  While you chose to not do much else than offer a small wave from the back seat like you had no autonomy, Kim got out to greet them properly.

“This is Steve,” Joyce gestured to him with a Vanna White hand. “If you ever want to take guitar lessons this summer, he’s one of our best.”

“Or, if you just want to have some fun,” Steve’s eyes seemed to be searching Kim’s face, and then he shrugged. “I mean, I run the boats on the dock too, so if you want to ski or—”

Kim got flustered and tried to find her words, fussing with the lapel of her corduroy jacket in a way you’d never witnessed before. “I’m…I mean, sure, who wouldn’t want to be on the lake at a place like this?”

Kim hated boats and got seasick very easily, so you found her new interest amusing.   

Joyce politely waved Steve off and he went, albeit reluctantly, backing up with slow steps to wave farewell.  The smile stretching across his face grew wider the longer Kim couldn’t take her eyes off of him. When he was finally jogging up the sidewalk to get to where he needed to be, Joyce continued to try and sell Kim and your dad on the resort, even though you were already booked for the month. 

“Sunday night is Bingo night. There’s karaoke in The Antler Room on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you need to check out our house band if you can.  They’re playing tonight on the back patio, and the rhythm guitar is sensational.  She used to perform with Vixen and Lita Ford,” she handed over the necessary keys and pointed the way to get to the cabin on the map.  

“Just follow us,” Joyce said, hopping into the golf cart next to the girl with the forearm tattoo.  

They led the way down a long, winding stretch with lush lawn and manicured hedges on either side, littered with people coming up from the pool in their bathing suits.  There appeared to be a Tai Chi lesson happening on the lawn near the rose garden, and some type of painting class going on just above them on a balcony.  

Made you wonder why summer people always had to stay so busy.

The cabin you’d be staying in was down a side road, tucked at the end of a private driveway with a view of the lake. It had five bedrooms, which was more than enough, but one of them would immediately turn into Owen’s writing room so that he could work on his latest novel.  

You were careful to tuck your Walkman into your bag as the Mercedes coasted into its parking spot.  Squinting up at the place, you were somewhat distracted by how much you liked the creepy, old feel of the whitewashed cabin, and you underestimated how far from the curb you were when you stepped out, stumbling to the side.  

The girl with the forearm tattoo caught you in both arms, preventing you from putting all of your weight on your twisted ankle.

“Whoa,” she moved her supportive grip from your waist to your elbow as you righted yourself.  “You okay?”

Your heart shot into your throat, and then you coughed a laugh, covering your face. “What a way to start the summer.”

She said her name was Robin, and there was a polite handshake exchange. She tripped over her words a bit.  “It’s not every day that someone falls for me.”

“Well, I’m pretty clumsy, you might need to stay close,” and the two of you shared a self-conscious laugh as you led the way to the trunk full of baggage.  

When you reached in to grab your suitcase, Robin teased, “hey, that’s my job,” before leaning further in to take the oddly shaped black hard case, the satin of her jacket skimming your arm. She struggled with it at first, but then held it up by the handle and gave you a sideways look.

“This yours?” She asked, cocking one eyebrow up. “You’re a musician?”

“No, well, yes I am but no I, I play the cello,” you stammered, not sure why it was hard to get the words out. “But here, I can carry that. It’s big and heavy and—”

Robin winked.  “I got it,” and then she snatched another suitcase with the other hand and shuffled by you to make her way up to the porch.  

Once you were all settled inside and Joyce had explained all of the amenities, you and Kim pushed back the curtains and watched the two go from the living room window. Just before they took off in the cart, Robin sent you a wave.

“She looks like a nice girl,” Kim had her arms folded over her chest. “Maybe the two of you could—”

“I know you’re worried about me, okay, but I don’t need to make any friends this summer,” you were holding the case for your cello in front of you with both hands, using it as a metaphorical barrier. “I like being alone.”

By the time you put your stuff away in the bedroom you’d be staying in, your dad was already typing away in his writing room, you could hear the keys of his Selectric click-clacking.  

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you called across the rustic but spacious cabin living room.  “I’m going to look around the main house.”

Kim barely caught your words as she was struggling with her glasses to read an ingredient label as she put some dry goods away in the kitchen.  “Mhmm sounds good, have fun. Be back in time for dinner, we have reservations at…whatever that place is called. Your dad knows.”

You tapped the Swatch on your wrist and gave an absent wave over your shoulder.

With your headphones on, you made your way down to the main sidewalk that split off in two directions, bordering either side of the swimming pool and tennis courts.  You found the bike path that wound down along the lake to the boat dock, and then up into a lush pocket of dense forest.  Two teenage girls on rollerblades almost crashed into you as they bolted around the bend, giggling.  Trying to decide if you wanted to go toward the water or into the woods, you watched a staff member veer off onto an uneven stone pathway and your curiosity was piqued.

Creeping along in their wake, you marched up a hill for what felt like forever, with Bring on the Dancing Horses by Echo and the Bunnymen playing in your ears, until you realized with a start that you’d already arrived at the main building.  It loomed up ahead like a mansion from some old gothic romance novel. 

You continued to plod your way along the trunks of trees, until you spotted a group having a chat on the wide porch, and took a few steps back.

They were all leaning against the railing in a semicircle, facing each other,  so that you could see the Hawkins Landing Staff on the back of a few of their navy jackets.  

One of them was Steve from earlier, next to him was a girl with a blonde ponytail, and then two others.  

“I met that author guy today,” Steve took a drag and then blew the smoke up in the air, away from everyone’s face.  “The one who wrote Darkness on the Hill, that one they made into a movie.”

You realized that it was your dad he was talking about. 

Not looking where you were stepping, you caught your toe on a tree root and your arms windmilled before you were able to find your balance, floundering to duck behind another tree.  Your mouth opened in a silent scream, trying not to gasp at the pain in your foot.  Grimacing, you turned the volume down on the headphones that were around your neck to better hear what they were saying.

“That actor from that one show about law and order is staying in cabin 8,” the girl with the ponytail said.  “Housekeeping says he finishes a bottle of whiskey a night.”

But then, there was another voice. “Now that sounds like a great fucking vacation to me,” followed by the heavy footfalls of boots on wood as a new person approached the group.

The sight of the new arrival made you feel like your brain was wiped clean—-the whole world came to a screeching halt.

Swallowing hard, all of your attention tunneled on him; his long dark hair with bangs that crowded his eyes, a thin but muscular build, tattoos scattered over his exposed arms, and a leather jacket hooked over his shoulder with one finger. He combed a hand through his hair as he walked, chunky metal rings catching the light, and headed over to the blonde girl.  You took note of every movement as she passed him her half-smoked cig and he gave her a quick kiss on the temple.  

Was that his girlfriend?

He stepped back to introduce the younger guy he had with him.  “This Jamie, my new maintenance trainee,” he used the hand holding his smoke to point to each one on the balcony individually.  You really didn’t pay attention until he got to the blonde one.  “...that one there is the lovely Chrissy, and the moody one with the hairy chest is Steve.  They’re the other musicians I told you about.”

Jamie had short black, curly hair and a hoop piercing in one ear.  He lit his own smoke while the metalhead started in with a story about a pump exploding at the pool house, complete with wild hand gestures.  

“Hey, there the fuck you are.  I’ve been looking everywhere for you losers.”

Another voice, another person making their way down the long stretch of squeaky wood planks from the front of the building.  You stepped closer, snapping a twig under your foot, eliciting a worried lip bite.

Everyone stayed right where they were, but for Eddie who moved in front of Jamie in a protective way.  The guy approaching at a stroll had very nondescript good looks with his wheat blonde hair in a tight cut that looked freshly trimmed.  While the others were dressed more casually, this one wore a white dress shirt and tie with black trousers, as if he had some fancy place to be.

“You talking to me?” The metalhead flicked his cigarette ash and stepped forward to meet the new guy before he could come any closer to the group. “Cause, if so, you might want to change your tone, precious.”

“Eddie, don’t,” Chrissy said, and then she stood up, addressing the guy in the suit.  “Jason, what the fuck do you want?”

Eddie, you moved your lips, whispering the name to yourself.  His name was Eddie.  

Jason put his hands up in mock surrender.  “Why so hostile?” He turned to Eddie. “Joyce has been trying to find you for an hour.  There’s a toilet backed up in one of the cabins, and trash that needs to go to the dump. Sounds to me like you’re having a hard time doing your job, Munson.”

You scuttled like a crab, moving to a spot where you could see their faces instead of the backs of their heads.

So that you could see Eddie’s face. 

Steve checked his watch and pushed off of the railing to snub his cig out on the bottom of his shoe.  “I gotta run.  See you bastards at the show tonight,” he said in passing, shoving both hands into his trouser pockets.  He walked right into Jason, shoulder checking him, before casually going on his way.  Jason shot him an evil look.

“Well,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Tell Joyce I got the message,” and then he motioned for Jamie to follow him.

“Too bad we can’t take you out with the rest of the trash, freak,” Jason mumbled, loud enough for you to hear every word, and a tension crackled in the air.

The metalhead stopped dead in his tracks and drew his shoulders back.  

When he finally turned on his heel, he wore a satisfied smirk, inclining his head, as if he’d been waiting for Jason to say something all along. 

Chrissy moved as if she were about to go over and break up whatever was about to happen, but one of the others put a handout and stopped her.  

“Just keep sending your laundry home to mommy, baby boy, and leave the real work to me,” Eddie said, and then he flicked the butt of his cigarette at Jason’s face. 

Jason moved his head just in time so that the hot cherry missed his cheek by a hair and bounced off the wall behind him, spraying sparks.  Chrissy and the others snickered at how beet red Jason’s face got, but he didn’t say another word, he just waited for Eddie and Jamie to be far enough away before he went back around to the front entrance.

When the coast was clear, you stood and made your way to the path again.  With a curse you realized you were going to be late for that dinner reservation, and picked up speed to a slow, sad jog. 

You found yourself thinking that maybe being trapped at Hawkins Landing for the summer wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

—----

Your aunt Kim gave you an exasperated look when you all finally sat down for dinner, being that you’d made everyone 20 minutes late for the reservation.  There didn’t appear to be a single open table when you arrived, but Joyce had made sure to keep the one by the window facing the gardens open for your party.  She came around to introduce the guy who was to be your waiter, and you sat up a little straighter in your seat when you realized it was Jason from earlier.  The way he’d been dressed out on the porch made sense now, as his uniform was the same as all of the other waitstaff.  

Near the end of the meal, Joyce returned to the table in her black pencil skirt and fitted jacket, but this time, she was with a guy who you could tell wanted to look like Don Johnson in Miami Vice, but it came off more as Gary from Weird Science.  

“I'd like you to meet Troy, he’s the son of Mr. Brenner, the owner of the resort,” there was a reluctance about her, as if she’d been forced at gunpoint to introduce him.  

Troy stared at you with an uncomfortable intensity, making your attention fall to your plate.  

“I’m in charge when my father isn’t around,” Troy said with a smug grin, putting his hands in his white trouser pockets, and you spotted some type of metal retainer on his teeth.  

Joyce cleared her throat, annoyed that his statement was far from true.  But she recognized that it was part of her job to indulge the little shit.  

“I just graduated with a business degree from Georgetown,” he gloated, giving you a wink.  “This place will all be mine one day.”

Your father exchanged a look with your aunt over his chocolate mousse.  

“Well, it’s nice to know someone else your age here, isn’t it, Bird? Maybe you two kids should go have some fun tonight,” Kim chirped.  

If your aunt wasn’t so far away, you would’ve kicked her under the table. 

Troy bent at the waist so that his face wasn’t far from yours.  “I’d love to show you around after dinner, if you’re interested in a tour?”

Before you could issue a vague excuse like, “sorry I can’t, I have a headache,” Kim spoke for you again.

“I think that’s a great idea,” she even clapped her hands, applauding it. 

In the end, you went with him to make Kim happy, to get her off your back, hopefully for the rest of the trip.  

An hour or two with a pretentious prick wouldn’t hurt you.

—-------

Troy wasn’t bad company, but he was quite full of himself.  He had interesting stories about his extensive travels, but then he also told awkward stories that were possibly fibs about how many models he’d dated, and expanded on how he wanted to be married with two kids by the time he was 30.   

You, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine thinking that far ahead, and he wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise.  

You followed close behind through the huge, busy kitchen of the restaurant you’d just dined in, and he tried to hold your hand when he introduced you to the head chef, but you were sly, and pulled it away to cross your arms over your chest.  He gave you a tour of the ballroom and took a stroll through the other restaurant on the opposite end of the building that had a much more relaxed feel, low lighting, red carpet, and a bar at the center.  

You went down to the boat docks and walked along the pier. The stars were breathtaking, but Troy didn’t notice, he was too busy trying to convince you to go out on his boat with him.  You declined, taking a page from Kim’s book to mention a freshly born curse of violent seasickness.  

You had your elbows on the railing at the pier, enjoying the velvet reflection of the crescent moon in the lake, and you could feel your jaw grow tense under the weight of Troy’s stare. 

On the verge of telling him you were ready to head back to your cabin, the sound of music drifted down from somewhere on the property. 

Yes, no mistaking, it was Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money, but it was being executed with someone else’s voice, and whoever that person was had some serious pipes.

And then there was the distinct sound of a feminine voice chiming in with the parts from the song Be My Baby Now by the Ronettes in the chorus.

"Is that a live band?" You turned away from him to try and find the source of the music.  It wasn’t coming from the restaurant on the water or any of the cabins to your right.  

"There's a cover band every Friday out behind the main house. You want to check it out?" He held the crook of his arm out to you and hesitated before you took it.  His ego sufficiently stroked now that you wanted to spend more time with him.

Around the side of the building, overlooking the golf course, was a huge, fenced in back patio garden area with a private hot tub and pool for hotel guests.  Troy led you through a white arbor wound with ivy to find that there were plenty of people mingling, drinking, and dancing.  The area was mostly manicured lawn, with stone pathways meandering around from a concrete floor that was right in front of the small riser that was meant to be a stage. You imagined that a million weddings had taken place there. 

At the door was a bar, and Troy got you a flute of champagne, which you downed with abandon and asked for another.  While he was getting your second glass, you made your way along under several boughs of white string lights to get a view of the stage and who was performing the top tier Eddie Money cover.

Just as you stepped into the crowd of people shuffling to the beat, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was at the mic: Eddie the metalhead.

Guitar slug low at his hips, wearing a tuxedo with light blue cummerbund and bow tie, his hair neatly combed back and fixed into a knot at the back of his head so that you could really see the curves of his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was performing the song against his will.

The rest of the band were dressed similarly, and you instantly knew the one strumming the bass guitar as Steve, and the woman on backup vocals rocking on the rhythm was Chrissy, who wore a conservative skirt and flats. There was also a keyboardist and a drummer, both of whom you did not recognize.

“What’s your major?” Troy asked, breaking your reverie to pass you the glass of champagne. “In college?”

You were confused for a second but then, “oh, I took the year off to…figure some things out.” The full truth of it was that you had dropped out completely and had no intention of going back.  

“I spent a summer in Greece my freshman year,” he offered, unprovoked. “The women there are, wow, so smoking hot.”

The song finished and Eddie took his tuxedo jacket off, rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing the scattered tattoos you’d noticed earlier.  He leaned over to whisper something to Chrissy, motioned at the drummer, and then stepped back into place, brushing a loose wisp of hair off his cheek.

“Find someone special for this next one,” he told the crowd, and was answered with a rush of murmurs.

The first notes to In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel, a slow song, lit up the space, and your stomach tightened, fearing that Troy would ask you to dance. As he escorted you to the floor, you tried to keep your head down and stay to the back of the crowd, but Troy kept maneuvering you closer to the stage. 

I get so lost, sometimes

Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart

When I want to run away

I drive off in my car

But whichever way I go

I come back to the place you are

You watched the performance from over Troy’s shoulder and followed his lead, shifting from foot to foot.  You were mesmerized by the muscles in Eddie’s hands as he played each note, and the way Chrissy came in like an angel on the chorus.  

He’d captured the attention of everyone in the garden at that moment, and there was a group of women watching him from the sidelines, whispering to each other, possibly about how they wanted to eat him alive.

They were all thinking the same thing you were: Eddie was magic.  

He liked to close his eyes when he sang, so you weren’t expecting him to be staring right at you when he opened them again.  

All my instincts, they return

And the grand facade, so soon will burn

Without a noise, without my pride

I reach out from the inside

He wouldn’t break eye contact, so you eventually had to; the intensity of it was giving you butterflies.

Troy stepped back and tried to get your attention.  “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You nodded, but your gaze only drifted back to Eddie.  Troy followed your line of sight and then dropped both of his hands with a frustrated cluck of his tongue.

"What the hell is he doing up there?" He hissed to himself when it dawned on him that Eddie had been behind the mic that whole time. "That's our goddamn maintenance guy. He shouldn't be up there."

In a huff, Troy pushed through the crowd and headed over to one of the other staff members against the fence. Bird could see him shouting and pointing over at the stage. Whatever the staff guy said did not seem to cheer him up a bit, and he came back to your side, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess our normal front man Drew has the flu," he reported back. "It's just so hard to find reliable help these days."

Eddie was making the song his own, and that was what you liked about it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Troy put his hand on your lower back to escort you out. “The music sucks.”

—--

It was 9:30 when you made it back to the main foyer, standing in the middle of the lobby next to an obnoxious floral arrangement, when Troy tried to get you to go back to his cabin and watch a movie, only to get respectfully declined.

“Don’t worry about your parents,” Troy said, brushing his finger over your chin. “They know you’re with me, so they’re probably the happiest parents at Hawkins Landing.”

The guy had quite an ego on him, you had to give him that. It was unsurpassed by most. 

In the end, you got away, and as soon as your Mary Jane’s hit the cobblestones outside the front door, you could feel yourself trotting at a quicker pace, eager to put some distance between you and Troy and everyone else, for that matter.  You didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the main hotel to be able to check over your shoulder and not see it through the trees.

It was then that you realized that you had a free chunk of time, and you could do with it whatever you wished.  Your dad would think you were still with Troy, and as long as you made it back to the cabin before midnight, they wouldn’t worry.  

As much as it was the dead of summer, Indiana by the water had very cool nights, and you buttoned up the jean jacket you were wearing just as you noticed a yellow sign on a lamppost to the right that said: Staff Quarters, No Guests Allowed Beyond This Point

And that made you want to venture in even more.

You checked around to make sure there was no one there to notice that you blatantly ignored the sign, and just kept going.  The path at your feet changed from stone to a well-worn dirt path through the grass, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the sound of music erupting in the distance.  

You passed by staff quarters, a few weathered red cabins with white trim, lined close together, and there were some people hanging out on their porches who gave you curious looks, but didn’t seem too concerned with your presence. 

Following the source of the music, you descended down into unknown, poorly lit territory that no longer looked like it was part of the Hawkins Landing property.  

(song playing in the distance is Dangerous Meeting by Mercyful Fate)

It was then that you noticed a pale yellow light coming from the windows of a building up ahead.  Just as the dirt path turned to gravel, you identified the music you were hearing as heavy metal, and it was bolstered by distinct shouts and cheers, even a high-pitched scream or two.  

“Hey,” a voice startled you from out of the dark and you jumped. “What are you going out here?”

Heart racing, you spun around to find out it was Robin.  

She was struggling to carry several things in her arms as she walked and you rushed over to her.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, grinning ear to ear at how glad you were to see someone familiar.

“My cabin is right over there,” she bucked her chin in a direction behind you.

She had a crossbody bag over her shoulder, an amp in one hand, and she was juggling two guitar cases, one of which she fumbled, and you managed to catch it before it hit the ground.  You wrapped your arms around the hard case with the Scorpions sticker on it, silently offering to carry it the rest of the way.

“You don’t have to—” Robin started, adjusting the bag over her shoulder.

“I want to,” you looked back up at the house where the music was coming from, assuming that was where she was headed.  “I carry that big cello around all the time, remember? I’m used to it.”

Robin moved her jaw from side to side and she looked conflicted.  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Your eyes were still locked on the house hidden in the trees.  “What is that place?”

“Listen,” she gave you an imploring look. “I will get in so much trouble if they find out you came out here. Your dad won’t want you here, trust me.”

Her warning did nothing to squelch your curiosity. “I’m a big girl, I go wherever I want. Plus, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Besides,” she gave you a knowing look, raising her eyebrow. “If your boyfriend Troy finds out you were here, Brenner will fire all of us.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you snapped.  But then, softer, you added, “I barely just met him tonight.”

Robin wasn’t in the mood to try and rip the guitar out of your hands, and so, with a heavy sigh, she caved.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But stay close to me, okay? You’re not at the resort anymore, sweetheart.”

You nodded, waiting for her to lead the way.

She took a step forward and then stopped and turned on her heel to point at the instrument in your arms. 

“Be extra careful with that, it’s Eddie’s baby. He’ll grow horns if anything happens to it.”

----

Hi! If you are familiar with the movie Dirty Dancing, you have an idea about what scene is coming up next. I've really enjoyed lining up certain events with the movie, but things will obviously be different in this because I want it to have some surprises in store for you.

Every chapter from here on out will start with a list of the songs, ones that will give hints for what to expect. I wanted to make music a big part of this fic, because it was a huge deal in the movie, and the original soundtrack is still dear to me.

as always, thank you so much for reading and interacting with this story! Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. or send me an ask and let me know what you think ❤️

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