#plus another part of me sits and gets mad for them like fuck you for trying to denying my hertiage and the shit i have faced because i'm no

[veone]

also yall know that thing about how people with adhd will forget you exist if they don't see you, that is very true on my end.

[lilyacorn]

Yandere delinquent x gn! Tutor reader x new! Yandere popular student

Yandere delinquent part 2!

(Since u guys liked part 1! With 30+ plus likes ty.)

What should i name yandere delinquent? Send the names in the comments :))

Possessive guy with puppy energy who gets jealous of another popular student you’re tutoring… >:( also new yandere character

Tw. Curse words. :))

Yandere delinquent- who was ecstatic when you told him to go to a local library for the session instead of his house! “…my first date! Heheh!”

Yandere delinquent- who dreamt multiple scenarios the night before the “date”

“…Then our hands bump against each other when they explain!” He kicked his feet in the air like a school girl while imagining those sweet lewd scenarios at the library… “hehehe! Soooo excited to see them again…”

Yandere delinquent- who wears a much nicer shirt than the last session at his house. “Hopefully they praise me… hehhe” with a goofy smile.

Yandere delinquent- who feels his heart dropping when he sees a popular student sitting beside you at the library- “who- …who’s that?”

Yandere delinquent- who feels like snapping the pen in his hand as he stares at the popular student rubbing their shoulder against yours as a way to “see the answer closer!” While deviously smirking at him. Stop going close to them you asshole

Yandere delinquent- who feels himself ready to stab the popular student when you smile at them when they get the answer right. why the fuck are they praising them… not me!

Yandere delinquent- who keeps asking questions to get your attention on him instead of that mf- “i don’t get this… help please?” With a pout to make you feel bad about not paying attention to him.

Yandere delinquent- who smirks at the popular student as you explain the question to him. I win you mf-

Yandere delinquent- who blushes when you flick his forehead to gain his attention on the questions! “…right sorry haha…” they’re so cute when theyre mad-

Yandere delinquent- who answers the math problems faster so that he could ask you questions about the next one. Fuck it i’ll answer randomly-

Yandere delinquent- who feels his heart fall to the ground when you laugh at the popular student’s joke. …they look good together with the saddest pout.

Yandere delinquent- who quickly says the corniest joke ever just so that you’d laugh at him instead “what do you call a pig that does karate? Pork-chop! Get it? Haha…” gosh that was the worst joke ever- why did you- UGHHHH

Yandere delinquent- who has a slight smile when you chuckle at his corny joke. At least they laughed… right?

Yandere delinquent- who doesn’t notice the time and its the end of the session. He offers to walk you home but the popular student asks at the same time “can i walk you home-“ “mind if i walk you home-“

Yandere delinquent- who stares deeply at the popular student who also stares deeply at him. Go away!

Yandere delinquent and the popular student both look at you.

Who will you choose?

An: btw the yandere popular student is out now!!

[luvulyy]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍.

𝖹𝖴𝖪𝖮 𝖷 𝖬𝖠𝖫𝖤 𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖣𝖤𝖱

WARNINGS: EXPLICIT SMOKING WEED

The feeling of Zuko's feet and legs tangled up in yours was the best sensation you had ever experienced.

Though that might be the weed speaking. You didn't think you would have believed he was this close to you if you both were sober.

The others were camped up in the far end of the Air Nomad temple. It was a bright night, the moon high in the sky was your only company as the embers of your campfire spluttered. When Zuko had emerged to the part of the ruins you often occupied on sleepless nice you'd quickly known what he was seeking.

A reprieve from silent four walls. A comfort only your company could give him. Plus it didnt hurt that he knew exactly how you tended to spend evenings like this, lazily smoking and admiring the stars.

There had been little words exchanged as Zuko joined your place sitting against the ruined walls, there wasn't any need to. Maybe you were afraid it would break the moment, silent and serene as the night chill swirled around you.

The closest you got to speaking was Zuko's nod of gratitude when you first offered him the joint.

The silence was short lived however, shattered when Zuko's body began to shake with the force of coughing. You instinctively began to rub his back, ignoring how much you enjoyed the sensation. It came far too casually, the urge to just continuously stroke your hand up and down his back.

As the coughs eased Zuko spluttered into his fist. 'Fuck, how can you stand that shit. My throat burns.'

You chuckled lowly, still not removing your hand. 'Mad talk from the firebender.'

Zuko tsked under his breath and finally passed it back, not meeting your eyes. You pulled deeply, enjoying the warm sensation that travelled through your body. You let your head lull back against the cold bricks, eyes lazily drawn to Zuko.

They always were, high or not. Not that you'd ever consider acting on your feelings.

Still, that didn't stop you when you finally moved your hand, instead travelling up to throw an arm across his shoulders. You pulled him into your side gently, only offering 'It's cold and you're hot, don't blame me' as explanation.

You ignored the blush that bloomed on his cheeks, and feigned ignorance when Zuko snuggled in the slightest amount.

As you returned the joint to him your eyes met and electricity flushed down your spine. It was impossible not to drown in his amber eyes, they were all you could see. They almost seemed to sparkle, rivalling the celestial view framing him. The slight red tinging his waterline complimented his usual colour scheme.

He was even more adorable than usual like this, relaxing into the high and your touch. Seeing him not entirely strung for once was nice. Endearing.

With another hit Zuko relaxed even further, melting into your side. As his head resting softly began against you you could've sworn your heart skipped a beat.

You could feel the line between you starting to blur. It was nothing new, there were times during the day you contemplated it. Times he looked at you with an indecipherable expression. With something you hoped was the affection you were also harbouring deep down.

You watched as Zuko went for a second pull and didn't get stop him. Maybe you were a little biased. Something you instantly regretted as he was hit with yet another wave of coughing. The two of you had no choice but to wait it out, silent until he stifled them to an occasional occurrence.

Zuko's eyes fell to you, tracing your face in true out of it fashion. 'How do you do this without dying? It's actually so unfair. Favouritism.'

You snorted in what you were sure was an attractive manner. Then paused as an idea came to you.

'Here, how bout we try something, might help you with the coughing.' You offered, face slack as to not give anything away.

The future fire lord simply raised an eyebrow sceptically. 'When has an idea of yours ever done us good?'

'You trust me?' You shot back, feeling emboldened by the high and atmosphere.

Zuko still looked unsure but nodded.

You tried to swallow your anxieties. This could either go very good or very wrong.

You inhaled deeply, eyes not leaving his. Then gestured for him to come closer, which he wordlessly obeyed. You turned your head, he was now so much closer than you'd expected. You drank in every beautiful detail of his face, so soft yet handsome in every way.

'Open?' You whispered lowly, holding the smoke in your lungs. Zuko's eyes widened slightly as he caught on, but he still did as told. You inched slightly closer, lips almost touching, then gently exhaled the puff into his mouth.

Zuko mimicked your deep breath in and blinked cutely when the inevitable wave of coughing never came. He seemed at a loss for words.

'That alright?' You pressed, body tense in anticipation. You really had no idea how he would react.

Yet all you got was a shrug as the firebender resumed his position using you as support. 'I'm not coughing my guts up, which is a start. What was that anyway?'

'Shotgunning.' You replied simply, playing it off as something casual and definitely didn't make your heart beat faster. You took another pull just to distract yourself, occupy your mind with something other than replaying the tantalising memory of his lips right next to yours.

You sat in silence for a minute, enjoying the ease his presence brought you. The fire crackled lazily but you made no motion to tend to it, instead Zuko lazily flicked his wrist and it roured back to life. You were admiring the flames dance when he spoke.

'Can we do it again?'

You froze like a deer in headlights. The courage you'd mustered earlier was nowhere to be found. But the buzz at the edge of your senses eased you. And the pink lingering on his cheeks was equally encouraging.

'If you're sure...' You offered softly, leaving things to Zuko. You didnt want to pressure him, didnt want to leave any chance of misreading where things were going.

Zuko shifted so his face was opposite yours again, eyes perfectly focused on yours. He shifted slightly so his forehead was pressing gently against yours. It was so gentle and intimate it took everything you had to resist holding him.

'I'm sure.' He whispered back, and the crystal clear question in his eyes left nothing unanswered.

You took another pull, and returned your lips to a hair's breath away from his. Pausing for a second to enjoy the moment, the warmth radiating from his presence, his closeness.

Then you exhaled. You moved impossibly closer to aim for his mouth, at the same time he raised his head to meet yours.

And somewhere along the way his lips found yours.

They were just as soft as you'd imagined, pressing against you with adorable shyness yet eager. Your breaths mingled and smoke danced between you. He tasted of weed and cold night air and it was the best thing you'd ever tasted. It was addictive, better than any drug.

As Zuko's grip found your collar and pulled you impossibly closer, you got a feeling that the shotgunning wasn't going to be a one time thing. Or the kissing.

[steddiealltheway]

!!!!! Tw: faked suicide not by Steve or Eddie. There are ⚠️⚠️⚠️ before and after the most graphic parts which can be skipped without needing too much context. I tried to be vague but it can still be triggering. !!!!! (Thank you everyone tagging it as such)

A sort of different type of TikTok Modern AU…

Eddie Munson is a famous rockstar and honestly doesn’t post much on TikTok, but he occasionally finds himself scrolling though the app which is how he finds Steve.

He’s gorgeous. Exactly Eddie’s type with luscious, gravity defying hair, a sharp jaw, pretty lips, and he bets if he had a closer look, Steve would have the most charming eyes. It’s a shame the camera is so far away from him, and Eddie almost wonders why until Billy Hargrove is in the shot.

Eddie’s stomach sours at the sight of the man. Yes, he’s attractive, even Eddie could admit that, but there was something about him that made Eddie feel uncomfortable. Plus, there were a few scandals surrounding the tiktoker regarding previous racist Tweets and comments which he has responded to with a thrust trap to “Nobody’s Perfect” by Miley Cyrus / Hannah Montana.

So yeah. Eddie didn’t particularly like him and the stuff he got away with just because he’s hot.

He tunes back into the video which has him holding his finger to his lips, and Eddie is already rolling his eyes. The caption says, “Pranking my boyfriend, Steve 🤣😱” and Eddie can already tell it has to be fake with all the dramatics that Steve just happens to not see.

But then Billy carefully sneaks behind the couch where Steve is sitting and dumps a bucket full of water and ice onto him which has the man yelling and standing up in shock. He stands still for a minute and then yells, “Why the fuck would you do that, Billy??”

The tone and overall reaction has Eddie actually wonder if the video is fake or if Steve is just a really good actor. But he watches it again and notices that the man doesn’t look toward the camera once and something about that makes him feel really uneasy.

Eddie has to reason with himself, if the man is dating Billy Hargrove then he must not be a great person, and maybe he deserved the bucket of ice water. But Eddie still closes out of the app and tries his best not to think about it.

-:-:-:-:-:-

He opens the app a few days later, having forgotten about the whole incident until he comes across another video by Billy and the word “prank” in his caption catches Eddie’s eye. He sighs wondering why it’s on his for you page, but right before he swipes past it, he catches the gist of the prank.

Billy fills a syringe with mayonnaise and injects it into a donut, and then it cuts to him giving it to Steve from a camera that once again seems to be hidden although Billy keeps glancing at it with a smirk on his face and evil in his eyes. Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t glance toward the camera, but his face lights up with glee when he’s handed the donut. “You got this for me?” He asks in an awe filled tone as if the donut means the world to him.

“Yeah, why don’t you take a big ol’ bite of it for me?” Billy asks, voice low. Eddie watches as Steve shifts uncomfortably and puts the donut down.

“This isn’t another prank, is it? You know I don’t like them,” Steve says which honestly surprises Eddie. His tone is entirely genuine, and he feels like he’s peering in on a private moment.

“Of course not baby. Told you I’d stop,” Billy replies with a big smile.

Eddie can’t help but click on the caption: “Simple prank makes boyfriend storm out!” With a shit ton of hashtags that Eddie doesn’t bother reading.

Sure enough, Steve bites into the donut and immediately spits it out. He doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head and storms out of room.

Billy laughs loudly, “Oh, don’t be like that, babe! You know that was funny as shit!”

Eddie opens the comments, and is surprised to find people actually defending the prank. There are some people who comment shit like, “date me instead! I would never get mad at your pranks 🥵”

There’s only one comment that says, “Don’t really find this funny.” But it’s swarmed with hate comments from Billy’s fans that has Eddie scoffing as he scrolls onto the next video. He watches for a few seconds before scrolling back up when he realizes something. He looks at the date of the TikTok and realizes it was posted the previous month which means…

Eddie sighs realizing that him looking through Billy’s videos will only give him more attention and views, but he needs to know how long this has been going on for. And he really needs to find out if Steve is in on any of it or at least had gotten Billy back.

He begrudgingly clicks on Billy’s profile and scrolls through. He finds several videos with the thumbnail being of Steve mid reaction to a prank, and Eddie notices that every time, the camera is far away, and there doesn’t seem to be a single video of him up close.

The whole thing doesn’t feel right to Eddie. But what can he do about it? It’s not like he can report the videos. He could simply just block Billy and try to forget it all.

He scrolls back to the top and accidentally refreshes the page. He’s about to block him when he notices a new video pop up, where Steve looks like he’s in the middle of a panic attack. Eddie immediately presses on it.

⚠️⚠️⚠️

Billy smiles at the camera, no shirt in sight as he laughs, “This is my biggest prank yet. Steve should be home in less than a minute. And look,” he holds up his phone and shows a bathtub filled with red water that almost looks like blood.

Eddie’s shaky hand covers his mouth. He wouldn’t.

Billy laughs and continues, “I sent him a text that says ‘I’m sorry’ and a picture of an empty pill bottle, and he’s been texting me non stop for the past few minutes. Shit, he’s on his way now so it’s time for me to hide my phone and make this look as real as possible.”

Eddie watches as Billy puts his phone on a shelf and seemingly stacks towels up to cover his phone and hold it in place. He looks away when Billy takes out a bottle of fake blood and stages a suicide. He practically shakes with anger. Steve has to be in on this. He has to just be a good actor.

Eddie’s stomach drops when he hears Steve yelling Billy’s name rushing through the house. He bursts through the door and falls against the wall in shock. “Tell me this is a damn prank Billy. Billy…” he gets closer and shakes him. “Billy!” He yells shaking. “Shit. Shit. No no no. Fuck. What the fuck…”

Steve sits next to the tub and puts his head in his hands having a panic attack. Billy’s eyes open and he winks at the camera before grabbing Steve’s shoulders and yelling, “Boo.” He starts cackling loudly as Steve confusedly looks around trying to catch his breath. “I got you so good!” Billy yells through laughter.

Steve shakily gets up, tears streaming down his face and runs. Billy gets out of the tub and makes his way to his phone. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to him later,” he says with a wink before the video ends.

⚠️⚠️⚠️

Eddie sits as the video reloops. He’s shaking with anger. He doesn’t think as he duets the video and mutes the other audio. “This is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen. These ‘couple pranks’ are stupid enough and not funny, but to fake a suicide and call it a joke… you have to be an extra type of fucked up asshole. There aren’t enough words to describe how evil of a human being you have to be to do something like this to someone you love. I don’t care if this is staged or not. This is not okay. And fuck you.” Eddie quickly censors Billy’s half of the video with a note of “watch at your own risk.” He doesn’t care if his manager is pissed or if his account is filled with Billy’s fans hating on him or whatever. He presses the post button and turns off his phone. He needs fresh air.

He grabs his keys, a hat, and sunglasses, and makes his way out of his apartment. Hopefully the damn paparazzi back the fuck off today. He makes it down his street and walks quickly, fuming with anger. He weaves in and out of people and curses the busy LA streets.

He turns the corner and rams right into someone walking at an equally fast rate. He holds onto the stranger to steady himself and keep them up. “Sorry,” the man chokes out and Eddie is about to brush it off when he realizes he recognizes him.

“Steve?” He asks. He knew Billy lived in Los Angeles but he didn’t know he lived so close. The thought makes him kind of sick to his stomach. He thinks he might punch him if he ever saw him in person.

Steve wipes at his face and narrows his eyes at Eddie. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Eddie glances around before lifting up his sunglasses and hat, waiting for Steve to recognize him enough to gain his trust. Instead, Steve just stares at him blankly.

Eddie’s heart races. This has never really happened to him. He puts on the hat and sunglasses sheepishly. “Uh, I’m Eddie. I know you from Billy’s TikToks.”

Steve just tilts his head in confusion. His eyes are red and puffy. He wonders if Billy posted the video so soon after his prank and if Steve is currently in the aftermath of it. “Um,” Steve says and clears his throat, “Was I in the background or something? He told me I wasn’t in his TikToks.”

Eddie’s heart drops. He opens his phone and goes to Billy’s TikTok, ignoring the way his own TikTok is blowing up. He turns his phone to Steve and picks a less traumatizing prank to show him.

Steve grabs his phone and his eyes widen. A look of confusion crosses over his face that slowly turns into realization and numbness. “He’s been using me for views after promising he wouldn’t, isn’t he? I even asked if the pranks were somehow stupid content but he said they weren’t. He…” he trails off and shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be unloading all of this onto you.”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m sorry that I told you.”

He watches as Steve numbly nods and scrolls presumedly through Billy’s profile. He looks down at the screen and back at Eddie. “Is this you?” Steve asks hesitantly as he turns the phone back to him.

Eddie confusedly looks at his phone and sees that Billy has apparently replied to his TikTok already. Then, to his left, he hears a bit of commotion and sees some cameras flashing. Fuck. “Do you trust me?” Eddie asks.

Steve looks at his phone and back at Eddie.

Yeah, that’s a lot to ask of him. “Okay, how about this? You keep my phone, and we run back to my apartment around the corner and talk in private before we both end up in shitty magazines?”

Steve tilts his head and glances toward where a few people with cameras make their way to them yelling, “Eddie! Eddie Munson!”

“You’re not a famous serial killer or something, right?”

“Musician,” Eddie says and holds out his hand. “One who hates Billy Hargrove.”

Steve looks down at his hand and takes it running alongside Eddie who tries not to think about the stories that might come out of this. Gosh, he thought his biggest scandal would be when he came out as gay.

He makes his way back to his apartment telling his doorman, “Paparazzi! He’s with me!”

Hopper just nods in response and opens the door quickly. Eddie sighs in relief when he makes it through and to the elevator. Steve looks at him and asks, “How offended are you that I don’t know you?”

Eddie laughs. “Mildly, but it’s a relief really.” He realizes that isn’t the biggest concern in the moment and changes the subject. “Are you okay?”

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He opens his mouth but the elevator dings, and Steve almost looks relieved. Eddie doesn’t press it as he leads him to his apartment. “Make yourself at home. Do you want water, coffee, tea, soda, or anything?”

Steve numbly shakes his head, so Eddie grabs two bottles of water and two cokes from his fridge. He puts them down on his coffee table and sits on the couch, watching as Steve kind of hovers in his living room with his arms crossed. “I won’t bite, and I certainly won’t pressure you to do anything. But you can sit on the couch if you like.”

Steve eyes him and asks timidly, “You’re not in on anything with Billy, right?”

It breaks his heart seeing and hearing how on edge these pranks have made Steve. “Fuck no. I promise on my guitar I have never had anything to do with Billy and I never will. Well… unless you count me calling him out on his shit on TikTok.”

The words seem to get through to Steve who sits down on the couch next to Eddie while keeping his distance. “So… that’s why you were on his TikTok.”

Eddie’s heart hammers. He nearly forgot that Billy had apparently dueted his own video. “Yeah, but it has to be really new because I only posted mine literally a minute before I ran into you.”

Steve looks down at Eddie’s phone still in his hands. “Why?”

“Why what?” Eddie asks genuinely confused.

“Why did you call him out?” Steve asks, not sounding angry just… curious.

Eddie shifts and play with a string on one of the rips of his jeans. “His most recent video with the faked suicide. That wasn’t fucking cool, man. None of the pranks he’s done have been okay. And I’m sorry that you were put through them - especially this last one.”

Steve’s face turns almost white. “He posted that? Was I… was I in it? Like… my entire breakdown was…” he trials off as Eddie slowly nods. “Fuck,” Steve says burying his face in his hands. Eddie is about to apologize or go on a rant about how much he hates Billy Hargrove when Steve asks, “Can I see the video you made?”

Eddie’s cheek flush red, but he replies, “Yeah, uh, I don’t exactly remember what I said because I kind of went into a fit of rage and posted whatever came to mind. But yeah, my password is 051599.”

Steve types the password into his phone, and stares at the screen blankly. He looks at Eddie and asks, “I’m not on social media… ever so… could you show me?”

Eddie nods and slides over until he’s a few inches away from the beautiful man, and he does his best to try not to think too hard about how attractive he finds him as he goes to his profile and presses on his recent video. His nose scrunches up at the sound of his own voice, but he doesn’t disagree with anything he said. Billy Hargrove is a dick.

“Can I see the comments?” Steve asks. Eddie nods and clicks on them.

“Woah,” Eddie can’t help but say as he sees blue checkmark after blue checkmark. The top comments are from @ ronancetheromance with the couple saying: “Only an absolutely vile person is capable of such a fucked up prank. #SaveSteve”. Another from @ willthewise: “remember to comment on here instead of the original video so it can get less attention!! #savesteve”. Several of the rest of the streamers who call themselves “The Party” reply to Will’s with the hashtag “SaveSteve”.

“Who are these people?” Steve asks as he scrolls through the comments. He comes across one from @ billyfan4everandalways saying: “Watch Billy’s new video and stop being so quick to judge!!”

Eddie clicks on the replies, and the top liked one - having more likes than the original comment - is from @ ericasinclair: “that ugly mullet man’s explanation is bullshit and everyone knows it. let Steve talk for himself or I’m not buying it. #SaveSteve #CancelBilly”

Eddie nearly follows the girl, but realizes that Steve had asked a question. “Most of them I don’t know personally honestly.”

“Then why are they defending me? I’m nobody,” Steve says as if it’s a common fact.

Eddie turns off his phone and puts it down, properly facing Steve. “I know I don’t know you well, but you are not nobody. And these people are defending you not only because Billy is a dick, but this prank stuff is abusive and shouldn’t be normalized especially with the following he has. Nobody should go through that.”

Steve turns slightly red and looks away before asking, “Can we watch his reply?”

Eddie shudders a bit at the thought, but turns on his phone and goes to his page. “Are you sure? I haven’t seen it yet either, and I’m a little prone to getting pissed at him.”

“I’m sure,” Steve says and even reaches over to open the video.

Billy still has fake blood on him and is scrubbing it off with an angry look on his face. He looks at the camera every so often, and it’s clear that he’s staring at himself in a mirror. What a fucking asshole. “These pranks are harmless, and even my boyfriend would agree with that. He enjoys them and he makes sure to show me how much once the cameras stop rolling and his shock has died off,” Billy says so with a smirk on his face that sends chills down Eddie’s body. “So, stop making assumptions about me and my boyfriend and keep making shitty music instead asshole.” The video ends with him flipping off the camera.

“Charming,” Eddie comments, pausing the video so it doesn’t endlessly loop, and turns to see Steve’s reaction. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head.

“He’s lying. I’ve been begging him to stop for weeks. Even slept on the couch in protest. But that last one was the last straw. I just… don’t know where to go,” Steve sits back against the couch and mumbles, “Fuck.”

Eddie shifts and looks at him. “Do you have any friends or family that could take you in?”

Steve laughs humorlessly. “My parent disowned me when they found out I was dating Billy. Didn’t want a bi son ruining the family image. I had to move in with Billy, and he used to be sweet really. Well… I thought he was for the first three months. When his TikTok career took off he moved to LA, and I felt like I had no choice but to go with him. I grew apart from the few friends I had before the move, and I was just stuck with Billy here. And I… I don’t know,” Steve sighs and puts his head in his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all of this on you. I just… haven’t really had anyone to talk to.” The man lifts his head, his eyes are tired and filled with unshed tears. He’s gorgeous really, but that’s the last thing Eddie needs to be thinking about.

Eddie takes a moment to consider things. Steve seems like a good guy. He has plenty of extra room in his too big apartment and money to spare that he doesn’t know what to do with. Honestly, he’s not meant for this lifestyle and never has been. He’s happy that his uncle Wayne is retired and living comfortably off his too big income, but it’s lonelier than he imagined it to be.

And with that thought Eddie tells Steve, “Then live here for a while. No pranks. I won’t use you for clout or whatever. I have a guest bedroom with its own private bathroom, and I usually never have visitors. And I hate parties, so you don’t have to worry about that either. I may be writing songs in the middle of the night, but my music room is fairly soundproof. And trust me, I would appreciate the company or feeling like my money is going toward something important.”

Steve stands up and shakes his head. “It’s okay, man. I don’t want your charity. You’ve already done enough.”

Eddie stays on the couch and says, “Please, Steve, stay a week or just a few days. If you hate it here, I’ll help you get on your way. But trust me when I say you’ll help me too. It’s…” he sighs and runs a hand over his face, “It’s lonely in LA.” He cringes as he quotes the title of his favorite song that he’s written. It’s also his least popular one, but it’s the most honest thing on any of his albums.

“Reminds me of that song,” Steve says with a small smile.

Eddie’s head snaps up. “You know it?”

Steve hums the chorus of Eddie’s song and Eddie joins in. Steve stops to ask, “You know it, too?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “I wrote it.”

Steve looks at him for a few moments longer with a combination of shock and hesitation. Then he surprises Eddie by asking, “You really wouldn’t mind if I stayed?”

“Not at all. Unless you ended up doing something really drastic like trying to murder me.”

Steve snorts, and Eddie finds it endearing. He tries to shake the feeling away. He can not fall for this man when he’s a guest in his house and especially not after everything he’s been through. But then Steve gives him a real smile and holds out his hand saying, “It’s a deal.”

And when Eddie takes his hand and feels how warm and nice it feels in his, half of him wants to argue that it’s just because it’s been a while since he’s actually had a genuine conversation with another person. But the other half is quick to accept that he’s absolutely fucked when it comes to this stranger that he feels like he’s inevitably going to fall in love with.

[jacs33]

The Bet Part 2

Words: 1.6k

Pairings: Pierre Gasly x Female Oc

Aurora did the not so smart thing by leaving the restaurant and going to the bar, unlike her original plans of going back to her room and eating her feelings in ice cream. Her, a broken heart, and alcohol have never mixed well, as she had a habit of drinking way too much, more than she normally did.

Which brought her stumbling to her godfathers hotel room almost black out drunk and crying. She was mad at herself for even crying over Pierre, as he didn’t deserve her tears.

No, he deserved her anger the most. Being the one to stand her up and then bring another girl to that same restaurant, knowing that she’d be there was a low blow.

Not only had he hurt her, but he also humiliated her tonight. Although she doubts the girl knew, or anyone for that matter. But it was still the fact that she found herself insanely happy for the date.

She felt something for Pierre, which doesn’t happen often for her.

It was hard for Aurora to love or to let people in as her own parents were in and out of her life, only appearing when they wanted something from her.

Relationships were the same story almost, boyfriends would always tell lies about loving her then going off to cheat on her, only wanting her around when there was something that involved having a plus one.

There was only one person that was a constant in her life, that was there through every heartbreak, rather from her parents or boyfriends.

Kimi Raikkonen treated his goddaughter as if she were his actual child, because to him she was, as he had raised her since she was one, after finding her alone in her crib while his best friend was out partying along with his wife.

So when he woke up to loud sobs outside his hotel door in the middle of night and found the sole person those sobs belonged to, he swore that he would hurt whoever caused them.

“Let’s get you inside.” He whispered while picking her up and bringing her into the room, kissing her head as she snuggled into his chest like when she was younger.

“I-it hurts uncle Kimi.” She sobbed into his chest, while he rubbed her back, getting into the bed and leaning his back against the headboard.

“What does Aurora? What happened?” He questioned softly.

“He stood me up.” She said, crying. “But that’s not all, he brought another date to the restaurant that he was supposed to be meeting me at.”

“Who, sweetheart?” He questioned, pissed, whoever he is would have to face him, how could someone be that heartless to stand someone up and take their next date to the same place, to rub it into an innocent girl's face.

“Pierre Gasly”

“Fucking asshole.” He grumbled. “Just get some sleep sweetheart, okay?”

“Okay, goodnight uncle Kimi.” She whispered, crawling into the other side of the bed and falling asleep almost immediately.

The next morning Pierre, Max, Daniel, Charles and Daniil were standing around outside Charles’s garage.

The other four wanted to know what exactly happened last night and to see if the bet was completed.

Which to them it was Pierre, one of the biggest fuck boys in the paddock, if anyone would’ve completed that bet, it would have been him, unless he fully liked the person.

Even then it was unlikely that he’s stay with them very long before getting bored with the relationship.

“So how did last night go?” Daniel was the first one to ask, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Easy, I stood her up.” Pierre shrugged. “I did it in a less easy way on her though.”

“Oh?” Max questioned.

“I just bought another date to the same restaurant five minutes later, my whole plan was to walk by her and rub it in her face but we ended up sitting by her.”

“How’d she take it?” Charles asked.

“Surprisingly well. I expected her to walk out in a crying mess but she just sat there and ate, didn’t even look over at us at all, didn’t even say anything either. She had the perfect opportunity to ruin my date but left it. It confused me honestly.”

“Weird.” Daniil said. “I would’ve punched you in her shoes.” He added with a chuckle.

“Guess she just didn’t care.” Pierre shrugged, watching Kimi walk in with a girl, before catching a glimpse of her. “Oh fuck.” He muttered.

He couldn’t believe that she was here right now, with the proclaimed Iceman of F1, he wasn’t supposed to see her again.

She was someone that was supposed to just disappear from his life like the others.

But now she's standing here in the place of his work, walking with the one guy no one wants to mess with, Kimi Raikkonen.

Daniel caught where he was looking at mumbles with a gulp. “Please tell me she is the one we bet on…”

Pierre found himself unable to reply and just nodded at his Australian friend.

“Fucking hell.” Daniel mumbled. “Kimi’s god daughter out of all people?!” He whispered yelled.

“Your the one that pointed her out.” He found himself also whispering harshly. “Why didn’t you tell me that she was Kimi’s god daughter!”

“Kimi has a god daughter?” Charles whispers.

“Yes, and why are you all freaking out about Aurora?” Sebastian said, appearing in the conversation after walking passed.

All the boys seemed panicked and worried about this and that itself worried the German.

“What did you do?” He added before anyone could speak, just having a gut feeling.

“Umm” Charles mumbled quietly.

“Tell me, because whatever it is, if Kimi finds out, you're all likely to be dead. He’s insanely protective of her as she’s had a rough past. So please just spit it out so I can decide whether my help is warranted or not.”

“We dared Pierre to sleep with a girl from the bar and then to take her out on a date the next night, only to stand her up when it came time for the actual date.” Daniil explained to Seb. “It was just supposed to be harmless.”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

“Look we didn’t know she was like a family member to a driver I swear. We just thought she was a random stranger.”

“Daniel should’ve known! He’s seen her around before.”

“I was drunk and couldn’t see straight, she also changed a lot from the last time I saw her.”

“Can we please just figure out how to get me to survive throughout the day? He looks ready to kill me.” Pierre whispers with a gulp now realizing that Kimi was indeed glaring at the group from his garage, with Aurora’s back turned away from them.

“Nope, you five are on your own, I’m not about to stand in his way for killing you Pierre. You don’t fuck with Aurora at all.” Seb told them while walking off towards the duo.

Pierre froze in his place when she turned to face Sebastian and hug him with a smile, it was then that he actually saw the effects of his actions.

While she was trying to be strong in front of everyone, not liking to show people that she’s not okay, he could see the puffy eyes and even the dull look that her beautiful eyes now show.

He never regretted his actions more than he does right now.

It wasn’t just because he might die at the hands of Kimi, but because he hurt the most gorgeous woman in the world just to win a stupid bet.

A bet that could have possibly ruined what could be the best thing in his life after the rough patch he was in these past few days.

And he had no idea how to fix it or if he even could.

But if taking a good beating from Kimi to make her happy or feel better, he'll take it without hesitation.

Because he deserves it after that, after hurting her like that.

“Yeah, we better run.” Max said cutting him out of his thoughts seeing Kimi storming their way after he had someone near Aurora to keep an eye on her.

While everyone nodded and ran off as fast as they could to their garages, Charles went to his drivers room to hide out, Pierre just stood there facing it head on.

In what could have been the second most stupid thing to do in one weekend.

“Pierre fucking Gasly.” Kimi growls out when he reaches him, caught the attention of those around them in the paddock.

“Hey, Kimi.” Pierre gulped. “How are you?”

“Shut it. I know what you did last night and it was fucked up.”

“Kimi, I feel guilty about it.”

“Bullshit, you wouldn’t have done it if you actually cared about Aurora.” Kimi glared at him. “You leave her alone, I haven’t seen her like that in awhile, and I refuse to let see her back to the way she was before because of a stupid fuck boy who can’t keep it in their pants and doesn’t care about their feelings.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t ask if you knew, this is the last thing you’ll do to her, I know about the bet, Sebastian filled me and her in on it. Come around her again and I’ll give you something to feel guilty about. Right now I’m not doing anything because she asked me not to, so you can thank her for protecting your ass for some reason.” He told the Frenchman with a deadly glare before walking off and back to his god daughter, leaving Pierre in a stunned silence.

Pierre couldn’t rack his brain over the fact that she basically protected him from the dangers of Kimi’s wrath, not that Kimi could also believe that he was following through with his goddaughter’s request.

[jrueships]

taking lil notes on the sauce getting a tat stream.... will be reblogging with more bcs this video is fucking long as shit plus with me always pausing to write whatever nonsense i find funny? yea, idk if ill be able to get thru this all lmao 😭 but yea this will just be lil blurbs rewritten n commented on as i watch on one device and take notes on another like a lil movie major or smthin LMAO. To shorten typing time, Sauce will be SG and tat man will just be K as his real name is Kyle. ok? ok

SG, impatient & cocky, trying to show out 4 the stream like a little loser: ay cmon bruh im ready 😤!!🤘🏿 *goes to lay down on the jets styled?? tatting bed??? idk what that is i don't get tats.. i just know they probably fucked on it cus sauce winced when he had to sit down LMAO. went from ay bruh im ready to EUAGH 😫!! Eh 😣😖!! in a millisecond LMFAO*

K: *checks himself out on camera for a split second*

K: *very polite to the stream's viewing. Apparently has never streamed or got an audience up close n personal during his tat sessions. Only shows the before and after photos so this is a new but very fun experience for him. aww, so cute <3 sauce getting him to try new things!!!! He's nervous about getting the best angles for us and he's always trying his best to please!! ( he's so service top it's Mad. it's MADDENIN!!! ) Sauce dramatic diva demanding hot n s*x fierce reporter mean fake bitch and his quiet polite and personable yet professionally firm, keeping sauce in line when he needs to fulltime cameraman part time bodyguard when the situation gets unexpectedly (or expectedly. Not everyone has Tat man's insanely loyal patience with sauce...) hostile WHEN??? Slowburn We're just workers/he's just my minion to ........... don't ask why we came out of the same bathroom at the same time STFU ?? HELLO??? TAT MAN!!!*

Chat: cook up kyle

Kyle: !! :] !! yea 😺!! im boutta cook 🥰 (HE KEEPS GETTING SO SWEETLY HYPED UP FROM SAUCES LIL AUDIENCE. IT'S SO CUTE LOL)

1:05 (around there idk none of these time stamps will be any accurate bcs i pause late after realizing smthin was funny then guestimate where it started so sorry :( ): sauce walking his big b00bies up in our face jumpscare :/ . To help Kyle zoom the camera per his chats demands. He lowkey high key very anxious and micromanaging abt kyle using his camera equipment lol. He just loves telling people what to do but also that shit is probably very expensive. But cmon sauce. Kyle the cameraman's got it!!! HE EVEN HAS THE PERFECT CAMERAMAN NAME LIKE?? Let him take care of you bbygirl ..😼

Sauce once again (a bit more gingerly this time) sits himself on his jets style seat thing and let's out a little cry of pain when his ass hits it??? sauce these bttm allegations are BEATING ur ASS lmao????

Kyle does what sauce was about to do for him and sauce kinda :/// >:( 😰😰😠. Sauce try to go five seconds without micromanaging challenge impossible. Complains about chat being able to see his facial expressions being too close up now and how he won't be able to fuck with Kyle no more cus of it cus they'll make shit is weird. Kyle simply responds ' That's love 🙂. '

Sauce goads the chat asking if he should end stream. Kyle at first thinks maybe he isn't cameramanning right and gets a little nervous/sad at disappointing sauce but quickly catches onto the strategy and joins in on the bait. The chat take it with a chorus of Nos. Girlboss sauce malewife Tat man media powercouple ftw?

2:58, K: wait turn ur head a lil bit? *Sauce looks at him* no, other way *sauce looks away, exposing neck to him and pre-ink*

K admires his work. Shows it off to the chat, tells them he's getting them right. Zooms in on sauce's neck

SOMEBODY SAID 'L NIPPLE' IN THE CHAT WHAT???? Chat language is so.... beautiful 😭

'Stop being a lil girl take the pain like a man'????? Yall sure this is twitch and not p*rnhub ??? tf?

Kyle zooms in. Chat: "glad to get the nipple off the page" HELP. my thoughts exactly

Kyle tries hiding sauces face with his zooms bcs he knows sauce was self conscious about his expressions lmao. Chat, instantly, and these are different people too. Everyone is a sadist here apparently. My kinda people 😼: 'WE NEED TO SEE HIS FACE FR' 'HIS FACE BRO WE NEED TO SEE HIS FACE' 'WE NEED TO SEE HIS FACE IF HE CRIES'

3:38 Sauce, reading the chat bcs if he doesn't have attention that he can feel for five seconds he explodes and dies: is my face in there ? <- literally just whined about not wanting his face seen bcs he'd get weird comments and ruin his very heterosexual very platonic relationship with tat man. But is now turning his whole tune around for some shred of people pleasing attention omg 🙄 poo fimbly 😑

K: nah they be clownin 😿.. *just wants to protect him*

Sauce agrees a bit then quickly changes subject to compliment himself.

Sauce notices camera needs shifting so he tries but Kyle's on it before he can. Sauce keeps trying anyways until eventually the needles settle him slougish

5:10 chat tells them to zoom out but sauce defends his cameraman: AINT NO ZOOM OUT 😾😾!! HE TRYNA GIVE YOU THE UPCLOSE LOOKS !!

Kyle zooms out anyways

Sauce whines about his nipple lol

Sg: yall weird af 😑 Yall tryna see my nipple or smthin 🤨? *incredulous look to camera*

K: FREE THE NIP!!!!! <- reading off chat, sadly

THE CHAT BULLIED HIM INTO HIDING HIS BOOBS LMAO. He got a blanket 😭 so now he's gonna be with another man... while under a blanket ? um. sauce I think this is pretty lose lose if u ask me .

Kyle wearing those black tattoo gloves gently touching sauces neck.... soft dom and not even trying to hide it 🤨?

Chat: stop moaning 😐

Sauce: my bad bruh 😔

Someone: get the tissues ready (????)

Sg: in da trenches 😼. in da trenches 😼

Someone in chat: sauce do u like when men fuck u? ( 🤔.. it's a fair ask 😳.)

Chat: the right side of my neck hurted the most (average sauce fan iq, im afraid )

Chat: SAUCE BABY START TWERKING

( now im just finding funny chat stuff cus all sauce doing rn is trying to not cry by randomly singing along to the music and kyle is working)

Chat trying to plot lies on kyle by spamming kyle messed up smthin so sauce can get worried lmao

9:40: around there, maybe a bit later, sauce starts groaning and cursing more

Chat: Sauce is it hard

Sauce asks how many people watching bcs u know he looooves an audience. Kyle doesn't know how to check so he has to stop and ask the chat

Kyle: Seven- ..... 776? 800? a thousand? man idk :(. yall play too much >:( yall play too damn much 🙄! ... i fuck with yall tho >:)

Chat trying to gaslight sauce into thinking Kyle's actually tatting a dick on his neck

I've been skipping or doing other stuff during some of the tatting. Sauce got up to try and figure out some twitch function? Mic suppression? idk. He lowkey stalling lol.

Kyle starts asking what the chat been saying around 31:40, curious.

Sauce and Kyle mumble to songs internmentedly lol

33:25 around there kyle raps to a song he rlly likes. Sauce adlibs it's cute

PAUSING THIS AT 35:10. We basically got an hour left in this jawn. YALL WE WATCHED ALOT IM PROUD!!!! OK im leaving this here for now, reblogging l a ter maybe even finishing it idk? I just need this shit sent cus im a lil nervous if it'll even load... this was a lotta work 😭 all for tatman and sauce interactions damn... ion even know this man's last name .. i need to go do strong people things now BYE see yall soon hopefully

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 8 Panic attacks, dissociation, seizure

TW/CW: Trauma trigger, dehumanization? Somewhat? Special whumper x whumpee dynamic, brief mention of death Word count: 1083 words

Another tavern. Another room and another night without privacy. For the millionth time on their journey Tierney wished her master curse would work faster and the woman would just drop dead.

“Oh stop glaring daggers and settle down, I’m tired.”, Zestia said, noticing the Tiefling’s gaze and rolling her own eyes.

Tierney whispered an elvish insult under her breath as she turned around to take off her bags and Armor.

 Not quiet enough.

“What did you say?!”, she heard Zestia’ voice from behind her, she sounded out of breath.

Tierney turned around, confused. And then she saw that Zestia had her hand on her rapier. She made a few quick steps back and went for her own dagger. But it wasn’t there. Of course. That damn hypnosis! So she went into defensive stance instead. But something was weird, Zestia wasn’t mad. She didn’t want to attack. She was...scared. “Okay what is going on?”

“What did you say?”

“My…My insult?”

“Yes! How do you know that!?”

“My father taught me.”

“Your father was an elve?!”, Zestia choked out, gripping her rapier even tighter, knuckles white. Tierney took a composed breath, she focused and replaced her pointed ears with fluffy sheep ears and tried to hide her wings and well as possible. Then she started to speak again: “Okay, deep breaths.” With careful, slow movements she put her hand into her bag and took out a bundle of bound flowers. Lavender and valerian. She stretched her hand out towards Zestia, the other one raised in innocence. “Please smell this. It’s not poison, plus you said yourself you’re immune to poison. Just please smell it, you’re having a panic attack.”

“I don’t need your fucking help!”, Zestia yelled, now shivering.

“Of course not. But smell it. It’s a nice smell either way.”, Tierney tried to convince her. But as Zestia made no sign to meet her halfway she laid the bundle on the table and walked into the corner next to the bed. Sitting on the ground. She tried to seem as little as a threat as possible.

Eventually Zestia moved out of her freeze and slowly walked to the table. “Tell me exactly what kind of plant those are!”, Zestia pressed out.

“Lavender and valerian. Both plants can assist you with calming down. Either by smelling them or by making them into a tea.”

“Why should I trust you.”

“You have better cards if I were to lie.”, Tierney argued and shrugged her shoulders. “But aside from that, you can’t.”

Zestia eyed her a bit longer but then shaking pale hands lifted up the bundle of flowers, and smelled on them. They did smell good, she had to admit. And she didn’t notice anything off. But she definitely didn’t feel calm yet.

“Can I help you now?”, Tierney asked from her corner.

Zestia grumbled but she really wanted to stop panicking. She hated this. All of this. But it would be fine. The Tiefling wouldn’t survive anyway and what she witnessed would die with her. “Fine. But one wrong move and…”

“Sure.”, Tierney answered, getting up and walking towards Zestia. “Okay, my advice would be; sit down. What do you think of that?”

“I don’t like it.”, Zestia answered.

“Okay. Then scratch that. But you’re still hyperventilating. Try to match your breathing to mine, okay? Breathe in for four, hold for seven and then exhale for eight. With me, come on.”, Tierney instructed

Zestia tried to mimic the breathing exercise and noticed that blessedly the light-headedness did grow smaller. “Okay, what’s next?”, Zestia asked, to her displeasure it sounded way less imperious than planned.

“I need you to focus on me whether I want that or not and tell me what animals you see, okay?”

“Uhm, okay?”

For the next few minutes Tierney played her malfunctioning wildshape ability and transformed multiple parts of her body into animal parts. Zestia guessed most of them correct, the snake parts the fastest, and she could feel that she was relaxing a bit more. Now I need you to look at my eyes and not at our hands and feel. Same spiel.

And Zestia did, she felt all the weird textures the Tiefling’s hand turned into. Skin, fur, and scales. Her lip twitched a bit as she felt the scales of snakes gliding under her fingers.

“Can you smell the flowers again?”, Tierney asked and Zestia did.

“Now tell me something positive, whatever it is, that comes to mind first.” I hate my life.

“Something positive…”, Zestia scoffed.

“Yes. Can be anything.”

“I…enjoy being on top of rooftops and playing my lyre. Seeing people slow down and listen.”

“Do you wanna do that now? Or just play in here?”

“I think I can do that.”, Zestia agreed.

“Great, proud of you.”, Tierney said, walked to the bed and let herself flop on it. Shortly after she heard music filling the room. She pulled her legs up to her torso and covered herself with her wing. Then she listened to the music trying to drown her thoughts in it. People always give what they need.

Eventually Zestia walked over to the bed and sat down on it. The Tiefling flinched. Zestia wanted to smile at it but right now she wasn’t in the mood. “Hey, do you have a melody you’d like me to play?”

Tierney held her breath, then she sat up and looked at Zestia. Inquiringly. “I only have a song from my past. From a dear friend. But I don’t want this to be connected to you.”

Zestia nodded awkwardly.

“But thank you for asking. I actually like how you play.”, Tierney admitted. Surprised at herself.

Zestia laughed a little in response: “The irony.”

“Why”

“Because I use the torments I bring upon others for my inspiration.”

Tierney raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together. She tried to ignore it but then had a better idea. “Then play me mine.”, she demanded.

“What?”, Zestia asked, visibly bewildered.

“Play me mine.”, Tierney insisted.

“Uhm. Alright.”, she eventually agreed and started playing the first notes of the melody. Somehow the sharpest tunes didn’t feel right. And when she looked over the next time the Tiefling had fallen asleep.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11 (Zestia is her DnD chararacter), @imnotamurdereripromise

[monstersinthecosmos]

I thought I was the only one who thinks Loustat's romance is as dry as a desert. I don't know whether is the direction or the cinematography or writing or whatever the fuck. I see all this sex but none of the desire which is funny because it's all the way around in the books, no dicks touch butts in the novel but it is still a very sensual read. I don't think is a lack of chemistry between the actors neither because they're both clearly committed to their roles and enjoy their parts. I don't know. It's all very weird. Maybe Bryan just hit the jackpot with Hugh and Mads.

I MEAN HE DEFINITELY HIT A JACKPOT LMAO but like I don't think Jacob & Sam are bad, either, and like THEY HAVE SO MUCH CHEMISTRY IN INTERVIEWS???? WHERE IS THAT ON THE SHOW?

It's largely about the writing though and like all my complaints about the show have to do with writing. They're both doing awesome work with what they're given lmao.

I've complained about this a few times already LMAO but all of the sort of self aggrandizing that the show is doing about ~ReMoVing the SuBTExT~ is so hollow to me when you sit down and watch the show and realize the "subtext" they meant was to say THEY FUCK and not THEY ARE IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. It reduces love to being about sex in a way that's so just, honestly tacky and disappointing and so out of sync with what I see in the novels.

Like where's the sensuality and heat and fuck-me-eyes and steamy blood sharing and casual intimacy? Don't just show me Sam's ass in the pilot in a scene that's arguably dubcon. Don't sell your show as a romance when the most genuine interaction between them was 2 seconds from Claudia's POV.

I think there's a lot of telling and not showing going on; I spent the entire first episode not sure what Louis sees in him aside from the mind gifting & coercion, because they made the choice to montage their courtship and not show us the romance. The second episode Louis had to literally say like 5 times "He was enthralling" voiced over scenes of abuse and coercion. Third episode is infidelity drama with Louis's puppydog eyes going "Aren't I enough?" and like ?? Where does this even come from? Do they even like each other lol.

Plus with all the confusing exposition about why are we doing a second interview that scene when Daniel plays the tape at him is so ??? THEYRE THE SAME PICTURE LOL. It ruins the argument that they look worse/more frigid because of Louis's POV. They're telling us out loud that Louis is portraying Lestat as his soulmate, that's the story we're supposed to be getting? But he's still coming off like a complete asshole? This confused me so much.

Enjoy the toxic ship as much as you want but I just, don't see the horniness personally. Louis has been abused to an honestly unreasonable degree, and they used such real-world tropes to show us that it doesn't feel like fantastical vampire drama, especially when they've made such a point in anchoring his character into his race. Everyone had a problem with the violence in episode 5 but doesn't seem to care about the insincere gift-giving in episode 6, when that's JUST as realistic to real life abuse. But what I've learned from this fandom is that abuse isn't real unless someone hits you lol but that's not my business.

(Let's also not get into how the abuse in Episode 6 was also largely directed at Claudia but that's another story.)

I just don't get it like, we know from Hannibal, from Tony Soprano, from Walter White, from Dexter, that you can have fun with a bad guy, you can still enjoy when he gets what's coming to him, you can cheer for him through the badness. They had Lestat there already and oversold it, imo. He was already so petty and abusive and poorly behaved and it would've made sense that they rise up against him. They just oversold it so hard in a way that's just so uncomfortable (real world uncomfortable) outside of genre convention and just isn't all that fun to watch tbh. And they've made Louis such a sad sack it's just, so hard to watch him go through this. I think if he had a shred of agency it would feel more like it was in his own power and I'm just not really getting that from the story they're telling us and it's honestly just so fucking depressing.

And all that and it's like, not even sexy idk. Like if you're having fun and it gets you off, please enjoy! I just think it's being beaten over the head, like it was already so abusive via the gaslighting and whatnot and that type of CHEMISTRY is something I really enjoy in toxic ships hahaha but it's just like, so unrelenting and it's hard to enjoy when we never get to see them just loving each other.

Like, when Lestat is inevitably murdered and Louis has to deal with the guilt and grief of it, what is he even going to be grieving? With Paul they made the point to let us see their relationship so we understand what he lost, and with Lestat? idk. It'll be more of the voiceover going "He was all I knew" without like, letting us enjoy that on screen while it's still here.

[bitacrytic]

The Lunch

Kinn had imagined everything possible, from a banquet to an extravagant street meal, to a picnic. Everything. What he’d never anticipated, was to be sitting in the open garden in the minor mansion, watching the minor family employees pass out packs of food, while they watched Porsche take down guard after guard after guard... in a mud-pit.

Vegas wouldn’t stop laughing, from the moment Kinn showed up.

“This is such a bad idea for you to be here,” he’d said right to Kinn’s face, before he’d disappeared into the mansion.

Pete had been kind enough to stay by Kinn’s side. But that didn’t do much for Kinn’s anxiety, every time Porsche went diving in the pit, writhing and rolling around with strange men, who got to cup a feel every once in a while. Kinn was keeping track. He was watching their leering eyes and he hated that he had to experience this. Damn it, maybe Vegas was right.

“How is this a lunch?” he’d asked.

“We’re eating, Khun-Kinn,” Pete had replied, his cheeks packed full with chicken and potatoes.

“But... why?” Kinn asked again, abandoning his plate of food. The minor family needed a better diet. They ate anything. Drank everything. Didn’t work out as much. No wonder ten of them were worth one main family guard. 

“They get a price.”

“What price?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Pete.”

“Look, you’re the one who chose to come here today, so you can’t be mad.”

“Mad about what?”

Pete sighed. “The official price is an added month off-duty.”

“Official price? What does that mean?”

“That there’s another price that the men are actually fighting for?” Pete replied, a small frown on his face. “It’s a running gag, at this point. Porsche has no idea what he’s offering.”

“What is he offering?”

“He offered the off-duty thing but no one took the bait. Then as a joke, he mentioned that anyone who can topple him gets a blow job.”

“What?” Kinn sat up.

“As a joke. When people started signing up, he thought they were doing it for the spare time.”

“What?” Kinn asked again, completely flabbergasted. “What the hell? Pete, we have to tell him that’s what he’s offering.” Kinn stood, but Pete dropped his food, immediately grabbing Kinn by the arm and dragging him from the garden, into the building.

Kinn was so shocked by Pete’s boldness that he went with it. As soon as they were alone, Pete dropped his hands, wincing a bit.

“Sorry about that, Khun-Kinn but you can’t tell him.”

“Your creepy coworkers are trying to- what the fuck, Pete?”

“No one is actually ever going to topple Porsche. It’s good for morale. He’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

Pete scoffed. “Yes, I do. Porsche keeps up with the main family diet, his workout is consistent and he trains like he’s still a fucking bodyguard.”

As they returned to the lunch, Kinn forced himself to sit through it all. Eight more men got in the pit, one after the other, attempting to topple Porsche. And each time, Kinn’s heart rose to his chest in physical pain.

***

That night, as Porsche got out of the shower, Kinn was already in bed, having chosen to spend the night at the minor mansion.

“Something on your mind?” Porsche asked.

“I was told to keep it a secret.”

Porsche turned around to face him while wearing his pajama pants, eyes bright with mischief.

“You have to share.”

Kinn didn’t even need much prodding. “Are you aware that you’ve offered to suck your employees’ cock if they ever topple you?”

Porsche laughed. “Is that the secret?”

Kinn sat up. “You know?”

“I’m the one who made the offer, Kinn.”

“I’m so confused.”

“The men are excited about it. Plus, they get to think they have one up on me. Win win.” He climbed into bed with Kinn. “Now, how about I make you the same offer. Topple me and I’ll blow you.”

Kinn didn't know what to feel. A part of him was a little worried to realize that Porsche was shaping up to be the kind of man who was worthy of being a mafia leader. While that was something Kinn openly claimed to be proud of, secretly, he wasn’t so sure how to feel about his boyfriend learning to manipulate everyone, so easily.

--

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Read Another

[b22-4u]

One of the most humbling days of my life: the day before thanksgiving 2021

From what I remember it was just another day, I was doing some work in a new area for solar and one person at the end of the road got upset and called the cops for door knocking.

Like a few other times this has happened and the cops showed up, I was polite understanding all sides. The cop was nice and we had short talk for a moment. She took my id and when she put it over the radio they said something to her and well she’d then ask me to put my hands behind my back.

One of my first thoughts was “why now”

But that’s for another story.

I had failed to appear at court for a case almost 5 years prior (also another story) and it hadn’t shown up until now.

The drive to the jail wasn’t long in reality but it felt like a long time, I knew my job was going to find out and that sucked, I knew my family would find out and that wasn’t so bad, I knew what people would think. I knew they wouldn’t really ever get to know each he full story and honestly sometimes neither do I. But I know it better, so whatever they thought or you the reader may think, just knows there’s more to it than was appears on the surface.

I had dreamt of being in jail for years now, there’s something about being stuck that really just tickles my anxiety to all time highs. I had seen this day coming a million miles away and boom it was finally here. Later perspective would say I’m glad this day finally came.

I get to the jail, one thing to the next and I’m in a holding cell with 6 plus people. People transferring/ murderers /domestic abusers/ thief’s* inside with me. And we’ll I’m tiny 🐣 but I wasn’t scared of the people inside I was more afraid of what was waiting for me on the outside. The people inside were just people. The type of people I’d grown up around. But on the outside I had fucked up again and I know those closest to me at the time expected this as well. Now let’s back up real quick.

I’ve mad a million mistakes, I’ve done wrong and although I’d like to think im a good person I accepted that I probably wasn’t and needed to change the way I was. Anyone who’s ever thought this definitely knows it doesn’t happen the first day,week,month, year. It’s a process. A long drawn out mental process. And at the point of this story I had began to make a come back. (More details in another story) but I was in love and although I had a lot on my plate to fix, I began fixing the most important part. My MIND. This period was very crucial to my growth. There was still a billion things to fix but I was finally in the right direction. I had finally found the person I thought I was meant to be with, the problem was I knew I wasn’t ready. I bring this up because this person I looked up too, you know that feeling when you’d fuck up as a teen and you knew your parents would still love you but they would be soooo disappointed, well I didn’t have that for my parents but with her I did. This idea that someone would look at the mess I made and still come sit beside me helped me grow and understand that this life isn’t about me. It’s about those around you who will hold you up when your down. Who won’t let you just petty yourself, but hold you up and accountable. I’ll touch more on this another time getting back to the story.

If you didn’t know jail was definitely not meant for someone with adhd. In case you didn’t know. I paced that 10-12 cell with 4 rows (one broke) for 8 hrs and I get ptsd just writing this lol I’m a weenie but for real it wasn’t fun. I didn’t care that I was in jail, I cared that I made it this far just to collide back down and I let down the only person I looked up to at this point in my life The day before thanksgiving. I’ve been a million things, being the person who let someone down who believed in them was by far my least favorite thing. I felt humbled

-B 4/10/23

[zalrb]

Skins Rewatch - Michelle

1. Oh great a Michelle episode.

2. This is probably such an accurate description

3. Kicking Tony in the balls is the most I’ve ever liked Michelle.

4. And Jal just being like

5. “Again??” Michelle, how would you not know that Tony is fucking around, you SAW HIM WITH HIS HAND UP ANOTHER GIRL’S SHIRT.

6. Michelle getting mad indignant that Jal didn’t tell her about all the girls he’s been fucking is just ... it’s typical but you can’t get irritated when Jal says “It’s just Tony, right?” considering that in Russia you were like “It’s just Tony!”

7. “I bet you wanted to fuck him.” Oh, fuck OFF Michelle.

8. They really did Jal dirty with her wardrobe I’m glad she got a bit of an upgrade in series 2.

9.

10. This

reminds me of when I was living in the UK, I was working/living at a hotel and one of the managers took me and this guy who also just started at the hotel to another town so we could open bank accounts and I automatically went to the front of the car to get in the passenger seat and my manager was talking about how much cheek I had because the man usually sits up front there and I was like ... ... that doesn’t sound true.

11. Tony is such a dick.

12. Yay for Sid punching Tony, lmao.

13. And I remember watching this and being like Michelle’s mom being inattentive isn’t enough for me to feel bad for her when Chris’ mother has mental health issues and abandoned him and his father abandoned him long before plus he has a dead brother, Cassie’s parents are too busy having sex to care about her and she has a severe eating disorder, Sid’s mother abandoned him and his father is verbally and emotionally abusive, liiiiiike.

14.

They have one issue, Tony, YOU.

15. I love that a random girl also slaps him.

16. Lol, I thought you didn’t watch television, Chris

the power of The OC

17. Her sweater just looks like it has dirt on it

18. Tony is fucked up for what he did to Josh tho.

19. I mean Josh took it a bit FAR too.

20. “You should try without” stop fucking with his mental health, Michelle.

21. Jal on the phone like, who the fuck is Josh?

22. What could’ve been interesting to explore more is how Tony fucking with Michelle’s head for so long has warped her sense of what’s normal because OK what brother would have pictures of his sister like that on his phone but also why would he SEND them to the girl he’s courting if he did? But because she’s been with Tony so long she’s just like yep, makes sense.

23. Oh right, but Michelle’s stigma around mental health also plays a part in this.

24. Michelle, did you even say bye to Jal?

25. Yay, she stands up to Tony only for series 2 to be her being like WHY CAN’T YOU BE WHO YOU WERE BEFORE. K.

[riverthebooknerd]

guys finding out that easter is this weekend was the worst fucking feeling i'm in tears rn and i need to talk about why because it's killing me

(tws in the tags)

couple weeks back, i got into an argument with my mom. she started yelling at me for a very poor reason and said some shitty things to me that i don't really wanna get into. she never apologized. neither of us have talked about it since. in fact, she's determined to pretend like nothing happened, and has been treating me like normal. i'm still very, very angry with her. i mean, she called me selfish and said that i didn't care about anyone else just because i said that i didn't want to go do something with her after she suddenly sprung it on me (nothing inappropriate/sexual, she's a jerk but not THAT kind of jerk.)

it always hits hard when my mom says shit like that. the last time it happened, i didn't eat for three days because she made a comment about how i was "living in her house and eating her food that she bought with her own hard-earned money." so, it's a weird mix of anger/guilt, because i'm technically an adult (just turned 18 not too long ago), but i am still living in her house for free.

in all honesty, she's the main reason why i hate asking for things. i always try to do things myself because my mom would call me ungrateful and selfish. yada yada, emotional abuse, something something, childhood trauma, yada yada, mommy issues. you get the idea.

but every year on easter, my parents give me and my siblings big baskets of candy- plus, my mom makes a huge dinner.

let me reiterate: i am still mad at my mom. i'm furious. i think that what she said to/about me was completely uncalled for, and i want an apology. she's been trying to act like nothing happened, but i'm not, and everyone can tell.

i don't know what i'm gonna do tomorrow.

plus, my parents want me to go to church with them. i stopped going as soon as i turned 18- i'm not religious, and they've known that for a while. for the most part, they don't push. the last time i went to church was at christmas, because they made a big fuss about my brothers and sister in law going. they're probably going to make a big fuss tomorrow, too, and refusing to go is the kind of thing that my mom yelled at me a couple weeks ago for in the first place.

so, basically, my easter is gonna be fucking miserable. i'm gonna be dragged to church, sit through an uncomfortably long service with a pastor preaching things that i don't believe in, talk to people at church about jesus and salvation (as someone who is VERY noticeably queer) while trying not to clue them in on the fact that i'm an atheist (because then they'll get all "awww poor you, you just need to believe in the lord and your life will get better, you'll burn in hell, why did you turn your back on the lord," etc etc). then, i get to go home and avoid talking to my mom as much as i can during a small family reunion, somehow get through the day without starting another argument or unnecessary drama, because my parents would fucking kill me if i ruin the holiday for them. then i'll have to act all fucking happy and grateful when they give me a bunch of chocolate that i didn't ask for while i got them nothing in return because i'm broke and i don't want to give my mom anything anyways. and THEN i'll have to sit through a long, awkward family dinner, probably being utterly ignored the entire time just like i always am, and force myself to eat enough on my plate that it's not seen as "ungrateful." that's not even mentioning all the underhanded jokes that will most likely be sent my way the whole fucking time.

god. i hate easter.

[frogsandfries]

I think I need a chiro.

My back has been at least part of my migraines for years. I need my insurance info to know if it'll be covered. I don't mind if all they can do is manual adjustment or whatever.

My girl cat woke me up this time; she was mad that I'm hogging the new bed all to myself. My boy was having seemingly the time of his life sitting on the corner quietly, not moving, the hours that I slept.

I'm so bummed that I didn't, at the very least, like, get the spilled ink cleaned up or something.

I didn't get to take all this garbage out--I got several larges boxes with the mattress and the pillows, plus the desk garbage, the regular garbage, and the used litter all need to go out. It's just been so goddamn hot out after work and it's three flights down hhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhh and I haven't needed to take out the household garbage for years so it's definitely an adjustment.

Maybe if it's so difficult to do during work, I should try taking just some of it tomorrow before work. Just some. Plus, if my migraine relieves, it'll be good to get outside. I meant to today, since garbage takes up so much more of the space proportionally. You couldn't pay me to go outside with a migraine. You never realize how much light actually gets through cloud cover until you have a migraine--it's worse when there is no cloud cover.

I was so desperate for steak today, I ordered dinner. The medicine didn't want to be neighbors with fries, so that's all I got to eat before it came right back up. The meal came with crab and a roll, and butter sauce, so naturally, I made a sandwich! That I didn't get to eat.....I had to put it in the fridge. I think I'm going to make a solid grocery run this weekend, get some cheese for my stuffed rice balls aaaannnndddd......idk, maybe frozen chicken? A bowl of cut fruit? I feel like I need to justify being a fancy bitch and buying cut fruit, but look, I'm one freaking person. There's no way I'm eating a whole pineapple, and a whole cantaloupe, and a whole honeydew melon, plus a whole pint of strawberries, a whole pint of blueberries, and a whole pint of raspberries and/or blackberries--that's generally the fruit mix I purchase. First, that's like, ten times more money than I would spend for the bowl. Second, ten times more food than I would purchase and reliably eat. The fruit bowl is proportionally more expensive than the fruit itself, but the overall investment is less money and less waste. It maths. Plus, naturally, I'm buying more ensure. I should get some granola bars to snack on, maybe some more applesauce packets, definitely some rolled oats, more oatmilk. I have to set aside some money for another smoothie box.

Now that I'm up, the neighbors are back at it with their obscenely loud music at nearly ten in the evening 🙄. Somebody went off with a drill as I was laying down and I groaned and they seemed to stop, so I appreciate that.

My sister was like "stop staring at screens" and I'm like "that's literally how I pay the bills". Now she's arguing with me that I don't have good screen hygiene: look. I have matte screen protectors on my phone and tablet, currently my only devices. The monitors for work are matte. The last time I had a migraine at work, I turned down the brightness to 25%. The brightness on my phone is regularly about 25% or less. My phone and tablet also have yellow adjusters that cycle throughout the day. I'm doing the best I can. I really believe it's more, I just got this mattress. My back is probably fucked from sleeping on the couch and piles of blankets. Plus, I've always had back issues--I first really noticed them...... what was it, 2017 when I got my first ever sitting-down job? I had another incident in 2018, after sitting on a cement floor for what my body thought was too long.

[midgardianweasley]

hiii i love your fics so much omg! anyway, i have a request that i've been daydreaming about that haha: nat and r get into a really big fight about smth (anything but cheating pls my heart won't be able to take that) and r kind of shuts down, and wanda & carol become super protective of her and follow her everywhere making sure she's ok. (and they're also glaring at nat any chance they get) but then nat comes into r's room one night and apologizes and they make up and snuggle and its soft hours

thank you so much! and of course lovely! here you go<33

Priorities

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has been missing date nights, leaving Y/N embarrassed for the final time. When confronted, an argument unfolds, but can they come back from it?

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: some swearing, some self-neglect

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! <3

“Another drink, miss?” The waiter in a smart, black tux asked you for the second time this evening, a part of you felt that it was out of pity as you sat alone at a table for two, and had been for the last two hours.

You were supposed to be meeting your girlfriend tonight for date night, you got all dressed up, makeup applied and hair styled perfectly, which had taken forever, only to be stood up. You wouldn’t have overly minded if this was a first occurrence, you would’ve brushed it off and rescheduled for another night. Which is what you had done, two missed date nights ago.

This was your third night of sitting alone in a crowded, candlelit restaurant as couples around you glanced over with a sympathetic gaze, which had only made you feel worse. Your girlfriend should be here. ‘Natasha should be here’, you thought. You looked up at the kind waiter, giving him a gentle smile before shaking your head.

“No, thank you. I think I'm calling it a night.” You spoke as you hurried to gather your things and get out of there as soon as possible, trying to hold back tears that you refused to let fall, not in front of all of these strangers. You hated this. You hated feeling so exposed. So vulnerable. You couldn’t help but feel anger bubble inside of you, thoughts of Natasha being the only thing currently plaguing your mind, most along the lines of; ‘What was her excuse this time?’ ‘Who is she with instead?’, but, there was one in particular that you couldn’t help but focus on.

‘She promised.’

You hadn’t realised you were crying until you were in the taxi, catching a glimpse of yourself in the rearview mirror when the driver had adjusted it slightly to see the cars behind you, in the process, you’d also caught her eyebrows raise in concern and it wasn’t long before she started conversation.

“You okay back there?”

You laughed somewhat bitterly, but it wasn’t towards her. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Your response didn’t seem to settle her worry as she turned quickly and shot you a sad smile before returning her eyes to the road.

“Boy troubles?”

“Girl.” You rubbed your face, trying to rid yourself of any tear stains that may be lingering and messing up your once really pretty makeup. Not that it really mattered at this point.

“Ah, been there.” She held up her left hand, showing you the shimmering diamond on her finger. “The wife and I have had our fair share of arguments and fallouts, some of them included a situation like this one.”

“Crying in the backseat of a taxi?”

“Crying in the backseat of a taxi.” She laughed lightly, making you smile for the first time tonight.

“It had always worked out though, we’ve never been stronger.”

“Congratulations.” You looked towards the woman “I hope I could be so lucky.” You mumbled, though still loud enough for her to hear. You were mad at Natasha, more disappointed really, but you still loved her, dangerously so. She could stand you up for another 50 dates, and you’d still be head over heels. Angry, but your love would never falter.

“I’m sure you will be. If there’s one thing I've learned over the years, it’s that things have a way of falling into place eventually.”

Pondering her words, you looked out of the car window and noticed that you were pulling up to Stark Tower. It wasn’t long before the car came to a complete stop, the woman turning round to you and beginning to speak again.

“You’ll be okay. It’s obvious you love her, okay? Speak to her. I’m sure it’ll be alright.” She looked at you with nothing but kindness in her eyes, which you did your best to return with a smile. You reached into your purse, handing her the money owed, plus a tip.

“Thank you for the help.”

“Don’t worry about it, go get her.” She winked as you got out of the car and watched her drive away, quickly taking yourself inside to avoid freezing to death as the cold wind blew harshly. Kicking your heels off, you set off with one task at hand. Talk to Nat.

__________________________

“Hey, have any of you guys seen Nat?” You addressed some members of the team who were hanging out in the Kitchen, fixing themselves a snack or just conversing with one another. The second they looked up and took in their appearance, you could’ve sworn their faces paled and saddened slightly as if they knew what had happened.

“I think I saw her head off to train a while ago, but I'm not sure if she’s still there.” Carol replied, her face morphing into one of seriousness. She knew about the missed dates, having found you one night looking completely defeated in one of your nicest dresses and heels. She, alongside Wanda, who had found you both later that night, had spent their night comforting you and reassuring you that she probably hadn’t meant it. They didn’t know what to do, they’d never seen you look so sad before, no matter how much you told them it was okay, the pang in their chest for their best friend hadn’t ceased.

You nodded, quietly thanking Carol and wandered off in search for your girlfriend.

It didn’t take long, she was still training when you’d walked into the gym, sweat practically pouring off of her. Your heart softened briefly when you saw her, her fiery red hair tied back into a ponytail with loose strands all over the place, wearing a black t-shirt, grey sweatpants and a deadpan face as she attacked the dusty punching bag with such force that you’re surprised it hasn’t flown off of the chains yet.

She hadn’t noticed you had walked in, still giving all of her focus to her punches. Maybe she just hadn’t heard you?

“Hi Nat.”

Nothing.

“Nat”

All you could hear was the furious rattling of chains, still not getting a response from the redhead. With a sigh, you decided to try another approach. You stepped closer to her, still keeping a little distance, and leaned forward to tap her shoulder, instantly grabbing her attention. She flung herself around, arm still in midair, her closed fist almost coming into contact with your face.

You don’t know what you expected when she turned around and finally acknowledged your presence, but you definitely didn’t expect to be met with a scowl.

“Seriously? in the middle of training? I could’ve hit you.” She huffed as she turned back to her previous position.

“Sorry. I just wanted to come in and talk to you.”

“About?”

You paused, expecting her to look at you again, but she didn’t.

With a small sigh, you continued. “you missed date night again. I waited for you, but you were a no show.”

“Right, yeah, date night” she muttered, seeming to be unfocused as her eyebrows furrowed and her head kept darting around the room, looking anywhere but at you. “I’ll make the next one.”

“This is the third one you’ve missed this month.” You said firmly, wanting her to understand that this can’t keep happening, of course cancellations or rearrangements were bound to happen sometimes, but she’s just not showing up and then leaving you in the dark as to knowing why.

“I told you, i’ll make the next one.” She walked over to the bench, picking up her water bottle and taking a swig of water, looking directly at you, you look back at her and she just looks so, unbothered.

“I don’t believe you, Nat. You say you’ll make it up to me and then I sit there again, hoping that you’ll be there this time, but you don’t turn up. And now I come back and you’re just training. Could it not have waited? Was that seriously more important?” You raised your voice now, all the anger and frustration you’d felt earlier coming back up to the surface.

You just wanted an explanation, or something to justify how she was acting, but she gave you nothing, not even an attempt, only adding fuel to the fire.

“Why are you getting so annoyed? You should know better than anyone that this is my job.”

“I just explained that to you! Which is more than what you’re giving me right now.”

“Okay, fine, forgive me for not making everything about you for a minute.” She spat bitterly towards you, her temper starting to go as the discussion became more heated.

“Seriously? That’s how you’re seeing this?” If you weren’t so unbelievably irritated, you would’ve laughed at her response.

“You’re being selfish. So I missed a date or two, you’re blowing this out of proportion once again, it’s infuriating.” Selfish?

You raised both your hands, as if in surrender. It was one thing to ditch you, it was another thing to then insult you for speaking up about it. With a tight lipped smile, oozing with sarcasm, you decided that you’d had enough.

“I don’t need to listen to this.”

She shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the gloves she’d just put on. “Then don’t, i’m busy anyways.”. This time, you did laugh.

“What a fucking surprise.”. And with that, you turned on your heels and walked out, hearing the echo of punches fill the room once again, every one feeling like a punch to the stomach.

Maybe these are things falling into place, just not the place you’d hoped.

________________________

You were still in bed at noon the next day, unable to bring yourself to get up and face the world. You didn’t need to worry about anything in the confinement of your bed, even more so considering it wasn’t the bed you shared with Natasha.

After speaking, well, arguing with her last night, you went straight to your shared bedroom, gathered some clothes and your essentials, and slept in your old room that you used to stay in before the two of you started dating. It felt wrong. You always spent your nights with a warm feeling of love washing over you as your girlfriend pressed kisses all over your face, tangling your limbs together in the process.

It wasn’t the same. You felt cold, a type of cold that no heating or blankets could solve. You lacked a weight on your waist, fingertips stroking the skin that was exposed due to your top riding up slightly. Instead, the only comfort you had was the small bear you’ve kept for the las year. It was one that Natasha had given you after she won it at the funfair on your third date, and you could never bring yourself to part with it, remembering how happy she looked when she handed it to you, and the butterflies you felt just from seeing her look so pleased.

The bear was a little worn and torn now, it had been ripped in a couple of places, now replaced with a little sewn on patch of material that didn’t exactly match the shade of brown, and one of the eyes had started to fall off, but you liked that it was different. The assassin had tried to offer to replace it and buy you a new one, but you’d always refuse, insistent that you would keep that bear with you for the rest of time. Even now, when the two of you weren’t speaking, you still held onto it with a death-tight grip.

A knock on the door snapped you out of your daydream.

“Y/N, open up, It’s me.” A familiar voice shouted through. Carol.

“And me!” Wanda.

You heard some muttering outside of the door, something along the lines of Carol suggesting they break the door down, immediately being told that it was unnecessary by the Sokovian. Feeling pretty against the idea of having a doorway with no door, you called out for them.

“Guys, it’s unlocked.” You were quiet, but it was clear that they had heard you as the faint talking stopped altogether and you heard them walk in and shut the door behind them with a ‘click’.

Wanda was the first to approach you, kneeling down beside the bed so that she was at eye level with you, pulling the bed covers down a little to uncover more than your forehead. Once she could see your eyes and nose, she sent you a warm smile.

“Hi sleepy. It’s noon.”

“I know.” She frowned when she heard you speak, your voice raspy from your crying through the night. She hated seeing you like this, she loved both you and Natasha, and it hurt to see you so sad because of the woman you adored.

“We should go and eat something, it’ll help.”

“‘M not hungry.” You pressed your head further into the pillow, the last thing you wanted to do was eat, your stomach already feeling like it was twisting with every minute that passed.

“C’mon, i’ll make you your favourite.” the blonde winked, leaning against your wardrobe.

“Your special pancakes?”

“With extra whipped cream.” She sang, playfully trying to encourage you to leave the bed. You had to hand it to her, she knew you too well.

WIth a brief look between the two, you rubbed your eyes and threw the covers off dramatically, sighing and ensuring that they knew you didn’t approve of this. They knew you were joking, even if you weren’t, all they cared about was making sure you were okay, knowing that when you felt like this, being left alone allows you to neglect yourself and get really low. They don’t mind if you dislike them for a little while, as long as you are looked after.

“There we go! Well done.” Wanda stroked your back and led you towards the door where Carol held it open for you.

“No breaking it down behind my back.” You shot towards her, slightly amused at the guilty look on her face as she realised you’d heard her quarrel beforehand. Shaking her head, she nudged you out of the door, and the three of you made your way into the kitchen.

_______________________

Carol had stuck to her promise of preparing a sweet treat for you, a stack of fluffy pancakes sat in front of you, topped with whipped cream and two cherries on top. You ate slow, still a little cautious of how stable your stomach felt. You could see your two friends talk with one another, not wanting to stare and make you uncomfortable, but occasionally looking over silently to check in on you.

You were feeling pretty content as you sat at the counter, munching away with the two avengers for company. It was only when you heard a voice that you could recognise anywhere.

“Hi guys.”

Not daring to look up, you ket your eyes focused on the food in front of you, hoping that if you just stay quiet, you’ll be invisible to the human eye.

“Hey Nat.”

“Hi.”

Wanda and Carol replied, wary of any interaction between the pair of you that could unfold into something neither of you wanted or that would lead to any regrets.

You lifted your head slightly, able to see the daggers Carol was throwing at Nat, not impressed with her being in the room. You both had always been quite close, often talking about life before becoming superheroes that protect the planet, in her case, planets. In the process, she’d found herself having a soft spot for you, wanting to protect you from anything that could bring you harm. Which you were grateful for, but her glaring was terrifying sometimes, you were more grateful for the fact that her powers weren’t in her eyes, otherwise you would’ve definitely become single five minutes ago.

You could see Natasha out of the corner of your eye, she was filling up the bottle she used for when she was training, her eyes weren’t on what she was doing, instead, she was trying to subtly look up at you through the hood of her eyes. You subconsciously took the opportunity to really take in her appearance.

Her hair hadn’t been tended to since you last saw her, half of it was hanging out of her ponytail, most of it falling in front of her face. Her eyes looked glassy and bloodshot, like she had been crying recently and you could’ve sworn that was your t-shirt she was wearing. The sight sent a wave of sadness over you, wanting nothing more than to leap over the counter and pull her into your arms and tell her things were fine, that the two of you were fine. But you stayed seated, too nervous to make a move.

You didn’t know it, but she regretted speaking to you last night, instantly realising what she’d done after she came back to her room to find it empty and half of your stuff gone. She knew immediately where you’d gone and would’ve gone through to talk it through with you, but she didn’t think it would help. She wanted you to have your time and space before approaching the situation.

With that, she tightened the lid on her bottle, sent you an apologetic smile and walked out of the room, leaving behind an awkward atmosphere in her absence.

“You alright?” Wanda asked

“Yeah, yeah no I'm okay. I’m feeling a little tired though, I'll catch you guys in a bit, okay?” You stood from your seat, not giving either of the two a chance to stop you as you walked out and back to bed. What a day.

_______________________

Hours had gone by now and you were back wrapped up under your bed covers, still clinging onto your bear. You hadn’t bothered to change, you went straight to bed after walking in the door. You’d managed to get some sleep earlier, not a lot, but it was something.

You tossed and turned, trying to find any way of being comfortable so your body could rest and your mind could shut off, but it was deemed to be impossible. All you could think about was your argument with Nat, and how she looked so upset earlier. The thought alone triggered the waterworks again, this time, you didn’t even attempt to stop them.

Only a couple of minutes had passed before there was yet again, another knock on your door. You rolled your eyes, really not wanting any more visitors, you were grateful for the help, but you really wanted to be alone.

“Guys, I’m fine! It’s late, get some sleep.” You called out, waiting to hear retreating footsteps, but they never came. Huh. That’s weird? You brushed it off quickly, assuming that it must’ve just been too quiet to hear, which you wouldn’t put past you due to all the sniffling you’ve been doing in an attempt to silence your crying.

You were wrong. The person at your door hadn’t walked away. They also weren’t Wanda or Carol. Instead, it was who you least expected to be in your room at god knows what time at night after the events that had unfolded recently.

“Hi.” The redhead whispered, worrying that if she spoke any louder, you’d be able to hear her voice shake with nerves, or the huge lump in her throat that wouldn’t budge.

You froze on the spot when you realised who it was, not entirely sure how you were gonna play this. Realistically, you might as well just see what it is she wants, it couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Hey.”

Her footsteps were practically silent but still felt deafening as she stepped closer to you, cringing slightly at how tense and forced all of this felt. It was her fault, she knew that, she hoped you did too. She didn’t want you blaming yourself for her actions, although she couldn’t say anything if you did, she was the one who had insulted you and planted the thought in your head, and she felt every fibre in her body beg for you to forgive her.

Approaching with caution, she walked up to the top of the bed, kneeling where Wanda had been earlier, but unlike Wanda, she didn’t reach out for you. She didn’t feel she had the right. Not now. She quickly took note of your eyes and how they were drooping and red, just like how hers had been earlier, which is how she could know in an instant that you had just been crying. She felt like a knife had gone through her chest at the sight, knowing that she had done that to you. She’d let you down so much that it had brought you to laying in bed alone and crying.

You mumbled something incoherent, completely muffled by the covers that were blocking your mouth.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you through the cover, could you tell me that again?”

You looked down a little, debating on doing it or just asking her to leave this conversation for another day. ‘But, she was already here, so you may as well get on with it.’ you thought, and with that, you tugged the covers down a little, letting Natasha see your full face now, unable to stop a tiny hint of a smile creeping up on her face. Your nose was runny, your eyes were puffy, and your face was flushed, but that didn’t change the fact that she still believed you to be the most beautiful woman she’d seen.

“Has something h-happened?” You hiccuped, noticing the frown take over her features as she maintained her eye contact with you.

“Yeah. i was a complete idiot.”

“Nat-”

“No, no, please. I want to explain. I need to explain. Please?” She pleaded, not caring how desperate she might’ve looked.

You paused for a minute before sighing gently, nodding at her and giving her a non-verbal go ahead to continue. She took a deep breath, looking away for a second then looking back at you before you could even blink. You could see her hands tremble a little, and while you were upset with her, you couldn’t leave it alone. You reached your hand out from under the cover and held it out to her, offering it for her to hold. She grabbed it without hesitation, squeezing it gently as a single tear fell, gathering the courage to say her next words.

“I have no excuse for what I did. There is nothing I could say that would make my actions plausible or acceptable, I shouldn’t have treated you like that or said what I did, and I understand if you can’t forgive me, or don’t want to. But I needed-, no, I need you to know, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You deserve better.”

More tears had fallen down her face at this point, her thumb not ceasing in their circular movements on the back of your hand. She didn’t know if this was going to be the last time she felt your hand in hers, so with every circle, she was savouring the moment, no matter how badly she wished it was under different circumstances.

You shuffled a little so you were in a more upright position, hoping that it would make speaking easier. You’d taken in every word, and while you were hurt, extremely hurt, you saw how remorseful she was. Her face showed no sign of humour or like she was lying. You could always tell when she was lying, her eyebrow always twitched a little, which you would always be in stitches about when she tried to say she didn’t eat your last cookie and her eyebrows would be moving like mad. They were as still as stone when she was speaking this time.

“You really hurt me, Nat. I didn’t think I was asking for much, just some time with you, that was all. And you left me every time, for work and with no notice. It was embarrassing.” She nodded in acknowledgement as she listened. “A-and then to come back and witness you being so, so, hostile, with me, I didn’t understand what I'd done.”

She gulped audibly before speaking again. “You hadn’t done a thing. Not a thing. I-I threw myself into work, into training. The last mission, I was sloppy, I wasn’t on my A game, it almost ended up with other people seriously hurt. So I thought-” She took a shaky breath in. “I thought, if I trained harder, It would mean I would be better for the next mission. But I disregarded everything else on the radar, including you, and then I got so mad at myself for it that I ended up taking it out on you instead. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body, and it was out of order for me to ever say so. It was wrong, and I don’t think I can apologise enough.`` She gave you an apologetic smile, tears streaming down her face steadily now.

“You know, when I came home from the restaurant, I had this driver.” You smiled. “Nice woman, she’s got a wife. She was telling me that it wasn’t easy for them. They had their ups and downs, their fights and bitterness. But they always found their way back to each other.” You whispered so softly that if there was any other noise in the room, Natasha wouldn’t have heard a word.

“And, when we argued, I really didn’t think we were going to be able to come back from that. I thought that maybe our time had expired.” You sniffled, your own tears trailing their way down your cheeks. Without thinking, she wiped them away, her palm pressing onto your warm cheek as you nuzzled into it, still finding comfort in her touch.

“I don’t want us to expire, Nat.”

There it was. There was the sentence that turned silent tears into fully body wracking sobs, your hands instinctively going to pull away and cover your face, instead, Natasha brought herself up to sit on the side of your bed, hastily bringing you into her chest and her free hand combing its way through your hair.

She rocked you back and forth, letting you get everything out of your system, no matter how much it hurt to hear.

“Shh, I’ve got you. I’m so sorry, moya lyubov.”

Your sobs soon died down with Nat’s help, sobs turning into faint pants with how tired you were and how much energy it had taken out of you. You looked up at her softly, as she smiled down at you.

“I love you, Natty.” You murmured, the words making the assassin’s heart grow fonder for you, if that was ever possible.

“I love you more.”

“Can you stay with me tonight? I can’t sleep without you.”

“Of course. Anything for you.” She leaned over you, bringing the blankets back up and over you, catching a glimpse of some brown fur among the darkness. She knew exactly what it was. She picked up up with the blankets and handed it to you, happiness overtaking her as she saw your eyes light up at the teddy she won for you.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Detka.” She pressed a kiss to your temple before settling down, holding you tight in her grasp, refusing to let you go for anything or anyone, not that you were complaining, you’d missed this.

Nothing had to be decided tonight, there was no rush for discussion. Sure, there were still things to talk through and work out, but that can wait. All that mattered right now, was that Natasha was there. She was holding you in her arms and you felt every ounce of love and apology she could give you. And that was enough for now.

taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova @wvnda-maximoff

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

De(railed) +18

Summary: The canon episode "Derailed" reimagined where Reader is sent on the solo interview and Spencer, recklessly, decides to save her. Plus, the aftermath.

CW: mommy kink sub! Spencer x dom! female (she/her) reader, cum play, penetrative sex, light degradation, praise kink, light choking (mentioned), edging, calling him a slut (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 6 K (this is the longest thing I've ever written!)

Author's Note: Special thank you to @shemarmooresfedora for reading this for me because I was very nervous about the smut portion. And a very special thank you to @notanotherreidgirl for inspiring this idea! this was my ask so yeah, this is a little out there for me so be kind (*dips into the shadows*). Also I either really hate or really love this title :)

Taglist: You can join the taglist here!

De(railed)

Sitting on the train, headed towards Virginia for the custodial interview, you tried to remind yourself what Spencer said to you the previous night when you dropped him off at his apartment. You had his hands in yours and you could feel him shake with nerves when he spoke.

He told you that he believes in you. Even when you think that Hotch and Gideon are sending you out to the solo interview too early, Spencer believes in you. If only you’d believe a little bit in yourself, then maybe you’d be able to figure out a way off this train, but an armed man and innocent passengers proves that a little challenging.

The man passes the train up and down and you tell yourself to relax. In hindsight, it seems like a horrible series of events that lead to the man shooting the train attendant. You’ve done your best to keep him calm until the police can see him off the train. Looking outside, you see SWAT, local PD, and FBI lined up 50 yards from the train.

Continuing to wave his gun around the train, the unsub rants about wanting to talk to a higher authority. To yourself, to wish that Spencer was here with you. He’d have figured out exactly what was wrong with the man by now. For less than professional reasons, you’re forever grateful that he’s not here- that he’s safe on the other side of the train.

“He’s out of his mind,” the man holding a bottle of whiskey says, “You gotta do something, lady,” he says, taking a swig of his drink. Your eyes dart to him and back up the doctor, the unsub’s psychologist, looking for a way out.

You breathe deeply, hoping that the BAU would come up with a plan. Knowing FBI protocol, you expect them to try to initiate a line of communication. Glancing over at the unsub, you think that he’ll want to talk to someone who looks like they are powerful. That would be either Hotch or Gideon. Selfishly, you’re grateful that Spencer still looks like an underpaid TA with a toy gun attached at his hip.

“No! Please, don’t hurt me!” the young woman screams, trying to release herself from the man, Ted’s, grip. He releases her, throwing her to the ground when his phone rings.

Gideon.

On the phone with Gideon, the man demands for something to be removed. You can’t hear what he’s saying to the unsub, but you place the little faith you have left into hoping your team can save you.

***

His vest is much too big for him.

That’s all you can think of when you realize Spencer is the “technician” that they’re sending in. His tie and shirt stick awkwardly and there is a gap in his shoulders around the vest. The straps are pulled so tight that they nearly fold over. His hands aren’t shaking when he carries the small black box, but his eyes look terrified.

You want to reach out to him, maybe hold his hand or brush the strands of hair that have fallen into his face, but you can’t. You have to sit there and pretend that this is the first time you’ve met him. It’s excruciatingly sick and mildly amusing in an equally twisted way. The first time you’ve come to terms with loving Spencer, you both can very well die.

“I’m here for the chip,” Spencer says, holding his hands up, “the higher authorities sent me,” he claims, feeding into the unsubs delusion. You shield your glance, unable to trust yourself from launching yourself in between Spencer and the man with the gun.

“That’s far enough and drop your weapons,” Ted says, holding the crying woman by her neck, “and take that vest off. I want to see you,”

“I don’t have any weapons. They don’t authorize them for-”

“I said take it off!” the man shouts, throwing the woman to the ground.

Spencer complies, taking off the much too big vest and tossing it to the ground. He holds his hands up, playing the part of the unsuspecting underling well. He reaches out to Ted, showing him the tools that he’ll use to take out the “chip”. You wonder how Spencer will pull it off, but you know he will in the end.

Spencer digs into the man’s skin with the scalpel. You can’t catch the sleight of hand, but you know that’s what he used.

“I have to leave, the higher authorities need the chip-”

“Turn it on,” Ted orders, “Turn it on!” he screams, his voice booming in the small train.

Spencer’s eyes dart to yours thinking of ways that he can get out of here. He looks almost sorry, and you feel a wave of intense regret. The thousands of times you could have said those little words seem so simple now.

“I can’t turn it on,” Spencer says, “I can’t turn it on,” You hate how scared he sounds, and you hate even more how you have to pretend that you don’t know him.

“Why!” the unsub yells, thrashing the gun around, “You’re one of them!”

Thinking quickly when you see him point the gun at Spencer’s face, you jump to your feet. You push Spencer out of the way, terrified that he’ll do something rash. You can’t lose Spencer, not when you’ve hadn’t had the chance to have him yet.

“It needs to be implanted to be activated,” you say, “I know this stuff Ted, I’m a Fed. Only me. Everyone else,Ted is just innocent. Just let them go, Ted,” you plead, “Just let them go,”

“No!” he yells, shooting up into the ceiling of the train, “no!”

The windows are closed, but you suspect that Hotch and Gideon have the train surrounded by now. Spencer moves closer to you, staring at the man as he scratches his upper arm. He drops his hand towards yours and squeezes, like he’s saying sorry and saying goodbye all in one touch. You don’t realize this before it’s too late.

“Doctor Brier,” Spencer says, standing up with his hands near his head, “you’re right, there’s more-”

“Just make it stop!” the desperate man pleas, “Make it stop!”

“I know what it’s like, Ted. The voices, they’ve been talking to you since you were a kid. They don’t stop. I know what it’s like Ted,” Spencer says, inching closer and closer to him, “Leo? Why don’t you let him think for himself?” Spencer says, trying to use the man’s delusion against him.

“Don’t! Stop, you’re trying to trick me!” the man begs, whipping the gun around too close to Spencer’s face, “stop!”

You always listen to Spencer. Whatever he talks about, you listen. From Russian cinema to Star Trek to the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture, you listen to him. It’s not that hard and it’s easy to get lost in his eyes or the way his hands move when he talks. But the seconds leading up to when the gunshot goes off, you’re not listening.

Because without Spencer, there isn’t much worth listening to.

***

Your eyes are squeezed shut so when a large hand hovers over your shoulder you jump at the touch. It takes you all of ten seconds to realize it’s Spencer. You look him over, searching for signs of mortal wounds that will rip him from your clutches, but there isn’t any.

“You’re okay,” you say, wanting nothing more but to kiss him or yell at him, or maybe a mix of the two, “you’re okay,” you repeat, not fully believing it the first time.

“We’re okay,” Spencer says, hugging you tight as you collapse into his arms, not caring if the rest of the team watches.

“I haven’t been fair to you, Spence,” you say, breaking from the hug to caress his face. You stop, holding his face in your hands, soaking him in, “you’re not someone who gets strung along, baby. I fucking love you and you-you mean so much to me. And I hate-I hate that it took you almost dying for me to realize that,” you cry, unable to care anymore.

“You love me?” Spencer whispers, unable, himself to care that they have an audience, “You love me back, but I’m, I-I,”

“Spencer,” you tell him, pausing to kiss him fully, “I,” you plant another kiss, on his right cheek, “love,” left cheek, “you,” forehead.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, looking at you with a proud smirk, “I guess that’s good because, I love you, Y/N. I don’t go risk my life just for everyone,”

“Watch yourself, baby,” you remind him, channeling the surge of pure life that runs through your veins, “you’re in for it later, my darling,” you tell him, whispering into his ear so only he can hear.

***

You didn’t even give him time to breathe before you pushed him up against the wall. Spencer’s hands still held yours, you don’t think that he dropped them since you two safely exited the train. He whimpers through the kiss, his breathy moan only serving to spur you on. His hands broke from yours, clinging to your waist. Spencer tries to peel your clothes from your skin, but he's much too distracted by your lips that travel across his cheekbones and down to his neck. He’s breathless and panting, but you don’t let up. If he’s breathing, he’s alive and that’s all that matters now.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Spencer pleads, the desperation in his voice causing you to pause from your attack on his neck, “I-I, Y/N,” he stutters, feeling empty without your kisses.

“I’m not mad, sweet boy. I’m not mad at you,” you say, laying on a sweet voice as your fingers skim through Spencer’s hair. He’s shaking slightly and closes his eyes, looking like he’s grateful to be alive.

“You’re not, but I wasn’t good,” he whispers, “I wasn’t good for you, Mommy,”

You do everything in your power to keep your composure, but after a day like today, you’re ready to melt into him. He might be the one begging at your feet soon, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s you who's wrapped around his finger. He looks up at you, with his back leaning against the wall; his face flushed pink and marks littering his neck.

“You scared me, Spence. I thought- I just let me take care of you,” you request, dropping your hands from his hair and grabbing onto his hand as you lead him to your bedroom. You’ve made it a habit to go to your place after cases; Spencer claims that the sunlight that dips into your bedroom in the morning is more pleasant than his view of the street, but you know he just prefers your bed and the attention he gets at your place.

“Please, Y/N,” he begs, following you into the bedroom. He’s at your heels and burrowed deeply in your heart, exactly where you want him.

You drop his hands, guiding him so his knees hit the edge of your plush bed. He kicks off his shoes and starts to undo his tie and shirt, but you stop him before he gets the chance.

“Let me do that for you, baby. I’m taking care of you tonight,” you say, feeling your heart swell as he looks up at you adoringly, “Mommy’s got you, my brave boy,” you tell him, your fingers grazing over his cheekbones, his nose and eyes. His eyes close as you continue to draw shapeless shapes over his skin.

“Thank you,” he mutters, saying it like a pray as he relaxes for the first time today, “thank you, Mommy,”

You smile at the name, enjoying how pliant he is as you unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. His flushed cheeks lead down his equally flushed chest. You place both your legs over his body, hovering over him as you straddle him. The proximity eggs him on and the minimal friction near his pants causes him to buck up words. Mercilessly, you chuckle at his attempt to get off. You want nothing more than to put him out of his misery, but watching him squirm for the tiniest bit of affection— your affection makes you nearly as desperate as Spencer.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you tell him, harshly pulling off his shirt as you nibble on his ear. He whimpers out in desire, already unable to form coherent thoughts even though you’ve so much as kissed him.

You stop touching him, sinking down to your knees before him. Spencer looks down at you, his pupils blown and his hair messy from being pushed up against the wall. His breathing is erratic and unmeasured, but he’s heart is still beating. You smile, unafraid and not caring that it breaks character as you give his thigh a squeeze. You bring his hands to his buttons, motioning for him to unbutton his pants for you.

“I can’t do all the work now, can I, baby?” You question rhetorically, quite self satisfied that he nods eagerly. He quickly undoes his pants, kicking the heavy corduroy trousers near your bathroom door. If the moment wasn’t so tense and erratic, you probably would have teased him for his excitement.

“I want to touch you, please? Mommy” Spencer starts, his hands holding your face as you kneel. He holds your face so delicately and gently, it’s a contrast to the sinful way he’s squirming above you.

“Not yet,” you tsk, slipping your finger under the waistband of his boxers. The bulge in his underwear looks very uncomfortable, but Spencer clearly tries his best to behave under your strong stare. You peel back the underwear and let it drop to Spencer’s feet. His cock, now exposed, is painfully hard. He concentrates on his breathing and trying to remain composed as your fingers travel up his leg and towards his groin.

“There’s my pretty boy,” you coo, grabbing Spencer’s jaw and making him look down at you. He lets pitiful whine at your words, “Come on, make my fingers nice and wet,” you order, sticking out two fingers that he sucks enthusiastically.

“What a good little slut I have, you’re sucking Mommy’s fingers just as if it’s my strap, aren’t you sweet boy,” you say, gently resting your other palm loosely around his neck. You don’t apply any pressure, but let it serve as a reminder of what could happen.

Happily, Spencer sucks your fingers, moaning around them and bucking his hips up in frustration. Marred by impatience, you remove your fingers from his mouth and kneel back down on the floor. Loosely, you grip his cock with your wet fingers. Spencer whines at the friction that’s nothing close to enough.

“Tell me how that feels,” you demand, “Tell Mommy how I makes you feel,”

“I-I feel,” Spencer starts, concentrating intently, but unable to truly articulate the passion you ignite in him, “Mommy, you make me feel so good,” Spencer says, finally finding the words, even though they barely scratch the surface.

“That’s all I want, baby. You deserve to feel good. So let me take care of you, my love,” you tell him, watching as he simpers at your words.

For a second there you let yourself think that maybe it’s calling him my love that prompted his reaction, not the promise of his cock in your mouth. You know after tonight there’s no tip toeing around it anymore: you’re unequivocally in love with him and you’re a little disappointed that it took the pair of you nearly dying to figure it out finally.

Looking back up at him, you abandon your plans for a moment. You kiss him hard. Normally, you’d hate the way your teeth clash against someone else’s and how the kiss isn’t really a kiss. It’s hard to pace yourself when he’s whimpering below you as you grind down hard on his crotch. The fabric of your pants provides much needed friction, causing Spencer to cry out in a twisted mix of pleasure and pain. He paws at your work short, silently begging for you to shed your layers as well.

“Good boys wait,” you tell him, kissing his forehead and sinking back down for the last time. You’ll never be done teasing him, but for now you intend to put his needs first.

“Such a pretty cock that only I get to see,” you coo, running a finger up his length, relishing in how he shudders at your touch. You’ve touched him so many times, yet he reacts each time as if it’s the first. He’s leaking precum as his breathing becomes more and more strained. This is far from your first time with Spencer and you’re well aware of the signs of his release.

Smiling up at him, you lazily wrap your hand around him, giving him the smallest bit of friction and attention that he needs to come. You drop him once he’s close to the edge, his pleading, begging eyes turning glazed over when he realizes you’re taking off your shirt. By the way he’s looking at you, you’d think you’d be wearing your best lingerie. Quickly, you’ve learned that with Spencer you could be wearing your ratty college tee shirts and he’d still look at you like you were dripping in gold.

“Mommy,” he pleads, “I’m a good boy,” he says, no trying to convince himself to hold back from his release, “please Mommy. I’m gonna-“ Spencer says, the flush on his face deepening as he throws his head back in ecstasy. However, he summons enough energy and will to reach out and palm your boobs. You don’t hide your moans as he rolls a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger. It only encourages him, but nowhere can you find in yourself to care.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Spencer whimpers, unable to hold himself up anymore and collapsing on the bed. His chest heaves up and down as he tries to collect himself. He comes all over your chest, staining your lavender bralette and looking very proud of himself. Spencer learned quickly as well that coming before you’ve even touched him earns him quite the praise.

“Such a good boy,” you praise, choosing to ignore him coming without permission, “such a messy boy though,” you chastise, squeezing his thigh and crawling your fingers up his chest.

“Mommy, please, I want to make you feel good too. I love you,” Spencer begs, his eyes droopy with exhaustion from the long day and glazed over with his orgasm. His words slur together as if he's drunk off something potent. His eyes meet yours, but flit down quickly. He scans your soiled chest, licking his lips unconsciously as his eyes rank over your breasts covered in the lavender lacy and stained with his cum.

“Do you know what good boys do?” You ask, expecting Spencer to answer the question without hesitation.

“They clean up their mess, Mommy,” he says. In a moment of bravery, he grabs your hand, guiding you to lay down on the bed. He twists his hands around your back, unlatching your bra from your body and tosses it on the ground.

Above you, Spencer lowers his face so his chin barely grazes your chest. His tongue darts out onto your skin, licking up the messy cum that fell on your chest. You place your hands in his hair, gripping firmly. It’s not hard enough to cause any pain, but it’s tight enough to remind him to stay put. Spencer hums contently, lapping up your chest, but keeping his eyes trained on yours. You pull him up by his hair, pieces fall over his blissed out eyes. He smiles up at you, his chin glistening with cum, but looking pleased with himself.

“That’s a good boy,” you praise, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. His tongue swirls around in yours and his large hands cup your face. You can feel him moving in your lap, more and more desperate for attention and friction as you continue to hold him off, “I love you, baby,” you say, hoping that he’ll hear enough times for it to stick and for him to start living his life like he wants to stay alive.

“Just for you, Mommy,” Spencer mumbles, already sucking and marking the valley between your breasts, “Can you? Please?” Spencer asks, still embarrassed, after all these months to put to words his desires.

“What, baby? You need to use your words,” you tell him, scooting up in the bed and smirking to yourself as Spencer practically chases you up the headboard, “You need to tell him what you want me to do, baby,” you say, talking slowly as you rub circles into his skin. He’s still hot to the touch and flushed all over.

“I want to make you feel good,” Spencer begs, licking his fiery red lips that are swollen and bitten from your earlier treatment, “I want you to feel good,” he says, attempting to buck his hips against your legs.

“Are you sure about that, Spence?” you ask, teasing him with your wandering hands. One stays latching in his hair, exposing his criminally bare neck and the other sneaks down to his cock, but hardly satisfies his burning need, “Because it seems like you’re an insolent little slut who only cares if he gets off. Do I need to remind you that I have needs as well,” you chide, increasing your grip on his hair as your lips nip the sensitive skin of his neck. He shudders in response, unable to fully articulate a sentence.

“But you’re lucky, you’re beautiful, Dr. Reid,” you say, dropping his hair and letting his head fall onto your chest. Knowing your expectations, Spencer doesn’t hesitate to kiss and nip along your skin. You feel your panties dampen at the sight of him: his hair wild and messy, his neck marked with evidence of your mouth, and his chest is bright red, somehow still flustered and embarrassed by your affections. You find it bizarre that he still doesn’t fully believe just how head over heels you are for him. He’s too good and pure for this world, and you’ll happily spend the rest of your life reminding him just how deserving of goodness and pureness he is.

“I love you,” Spencer whimpers against your skin, his breath is hot as he pants, “but please fuck me,” he begs, flipping around on his back so you can be on top.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, Mommy will take care of you,” you remind him, balancing yourself so you can hover over him, “Now, I’d normally want you to be quiet, but I want to hear everything. So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me how you feel, sweetie,” you instruct, maneuvering yourself so you’re lined up with him.

“Give me a second, please,” Spencer asks, pushing himself up so his back rests against the headboard, “You make me crazy, I just need a moment to think,” he says, quietly, staring off nothing in the bedroom. You take the opportunity to grab his hand, that’s gripping onto your floral patterned sheets, and kiss his scars on his knuckles. Some are new and fresh, while others are old, from longer ago than working at the BAU. You kiss them over, as if your lips are able to help the evidence of his physical pain.

“You make me crazy too, Spencer,” You say, growing more and more unhinged as he moves underneath you, “I love you so much, darling,” you tell him, kissing his eyes, lips, nose, anything you can reach.

Slowly, so slowly, you sink down onto Spencer. You watch his microexpressions, but you know how he’ll react. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s willing himself to hold off. He breathes in and out, teetering on the edge. You wait for his nod, for his sign of approval that you can move. He whines and peeks open his eyes. Spencer’s hands dig into your waist, his strong, large hands searching for any skin to grab onto.

“Please move, Mommy,” Spencer begs, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he starts to plead with you to have mercy on him, “I need it, Mommy,” he moans.

“Don’t be greedy, darling. You’ll take what I give you, but don’t you want to make me feel good too, baby,” you ask, guiding his nimble fingers to your slick core. His thumb and pointer finger begin to rub quick circles around your clit. You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you feel the pressure build. Between the heightened tensions of work and Spencer's hot breath against your neck, you know that you’ll come soon. Spencer’s breathy moans get more and more desperate.

“Are you already going to come again, love?” You ask, increasing your pace. His other hand grips your thigh, drawing shapes into your soft skin. Following suit, you match his sweet movements on his cheek. His breath is his shaky as you stroke his cheek lovingly, “Make me come first and then, maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you come inside me,” you promise, already knowing that you’ll let him come inside you.

“Watch you disappear inside me, baby. Watch your pretty cock slip inside my pussy. It’s just like you were made for me, darling,” you cry, your voice getting slightly breathy yourself. You watch yourself as his cock goes in and out, red with overstimulation. Spencer’s eyes, littered with small tears, looks transfixed.

“Fuck,” Spencer says, “I’m so close, Mommy. I-I, you make me feel so good. You’re so beautiful, I-I-”

“So needy, you’re so fucking needy,” you say to him. You can tell he’s growing more and more impatient by the moment. His hands lurch towards your chest, pawing at your boobs. Spencer’s sloppy movements bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“So good, so good,” he repeats, his sweaty forehead rests on your collarbone. You pull him up again his hair, relishing in the pitiful moan that he lets out. It’s raw and pure sin, it should make you want to fuck him more, but it only makes you want to love him more.

You’re drunk on him. Drunk on his moans and whimpers of pleasure. You’re drunk on the way his skin sticks to yours and how his hands roam around your body, always finding a spot on your torso and legs that makes you approach the edge closer and closer. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being too hard on him. If you should just whisper that little sentence and let Spencer feel the wave of pleasure.

“I need it, Mommy,” Spencer pants, kissing lined up your chest and collarbone. His face is pressed up against your face and moves up and down as you continue your pace, “I-I, Mommy, I want you to-”

“What do you want, baby? Hmm? Tell Mommy?” You ask, your voice sounding sickly sweet. The noise of moans fills the room, Spencer’s moan akin to whimpers and whines and your’s more like praises and words of approval, “you’ve been such a good boy, baby I’ll give you want whatever you want, my love”

“Please, please let me make you come, Mommy. I need you to come, Mommy. I need it,” Spencer whines, looking up into your eyes and latching onto them in the darkness.

It’s sinful how the filthy words contrast with his sweet, shy tones. He looks so innocent, but enthralling with his face between your hands, but his own hands rubbing small circles on your clit. His moans grow more high pitched. You kiss by his ear, ready to whisper the words of approval that you’ve neared your release.

“Oh god, Spencer. God. You have no idea what you do to me. My sweet boy,” you murmur, pressing Spencer’s face further into your chest. You can feel him heave and his breathing grow more and more unsteady, but he still has enough sense to continue rubbing your clit.

You kiss him, wanting to feel him everywhere when you come undone. Kissing him is desperate and full of gasps of air. His skin is so soft as you slide across his mouth, up his cheeks, and over his jaw. His helpless moans spur you on, giving you the strength and energy to thrust down on him another time before you feel yourself come undone.

“It’s your turn, baby. Come on, sweetheart. Come inside me and maybe I’ll have to call you daddy? Hmm?” you chant, halting your movements to torture him a little longer.

“Please, Y/N. Please let me fill you up,” Spencer begs, his voice hoarse and scratchy from being so vocal, “I’m yours. I love you so much,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around you so your chests are pressed up together. He holds you sweetly and you kiss his shoulders and his neck, choosing to leave a large red welt as a reminder for him.

“You like that? Hmm you like if I call you Daddy and let you fill me up? Come on, Spencer. You can come. Don’t you want to be a good boy for Mommy?,” you say, giving him the permission that he’s been desiring all night.

He tightens his grip on your upper half as he meets his release. Spencer’s strangled moans turn into sweet whimpers as he looks down into your laps. Quietly, you ride him through the rest of his orgasm, letting him come down from his high peppered with light pecks along his freckled shoulders and sharp jawline. Spencer smiles into the kisses, his eyes are shut and his cheeks are dusted with a light pink flush. For the first time today, he looks relaxed and safe.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Spencer says quietly, mirroring your motions and kissing your shoulders and neck as you slow your pace, “Can we stay like this. Just for a moment,” Spencer asks, burning for the feeling of being inside you for even a couple more minutes.

“Of course, baby,” you tell him, squeezing him into a tight hug, “you did so wonderful for me. Such a good boy. I love my sweet boy,” you tell him, brushing the stray hairs from his face. His neck is marked by your mouth and his eyes are glazed with sleep and desire.

“I love you,” Spencer says again, his forehead falling against yours and his breath hitching as you move slightly with him inside you, “and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about today,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart and then we’ll talk about it,” you suggest, taking the opportunity to kiss his lips as you pull yourself away from his lap.

Spencer doesn’t say much in response, but nods silently. He groans slightly as you separate your bodies and he tries to chase your lips with his as you climb out of the bed and into your bathroom.

“Please come back,” Spencer says, sounding like he wasn’t sure if you’d keep your promise.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you reassure him, returning from the bathroom dressed in an old tee shirt and carrying a warm, damp washcloth and a pair of clean underwear for Spencer.

“Can you please hold me? Please, Y/N. I need you,” Spencer says, reaching out to you in the dark. That’s one request you know you’d never deny.

“Of course, Spence. Just let me clean you up and I’ll hold you,” you tell him, gently dragging the warm towel over his skin. He’s quiet as you clean him up, but his soulful eyes look lost and sheepish, making him look smaller and more vulnerable than he actually is. You drop the towel to the floor, not caring that the water isn’t good for the floor.

You lay back down on the bed and Spencer, like a magnet to another magnet, crawls in close. He’s still undressed, except for the underwear that you gave him. His eyes are droopy and his breathing is still shaky, but steadies out as your hands draw circles on his back. You pull the covers up to his chin, making sure he’s covered before you start what you know all too well is a difficult conversation.

“Spencer,” you croak, “Why did you do that? Why do you think that’s okay?” you ask, still trying to make sense of why Spencer would risk his life like that so recklessly. You hold him tighter, squeezing his arm as he breathes out, ready to tell you what he’s never told anyone before.

“Bec-, because- I don’t matter,” he says, the words choking out between cries of years and years of pain, “because it doesn’t matter to anyone if I don’t come home. I don’t have anyone to come home to,”

“You’ve always had me,” you say quietly, “I’m your person to come home with, Spence,” you tell him, hoping with all the faith in your body that he’ll believe you. You hold his hand, weaving your fingers in his. Looking at your hands intertwined together, you’d think that your hand was made for it. It’s a little cliche, but Spencer is the kind of man that makes all those cliches seem like wonderful possibilities.

“I-I, I never had someone before,” Spencer says, “I mean, I had my mom, but it’s gotten harder. But then, then, I met you. And I never thought you’d like me like that, Y/N. I never thought you could love me,”

“Spencer,” you say, twisting around so you can hold his face in your hands, “Spencer, I love you. You are so much more than your job. You’re worthy of being loved, Goose. And I’d spend the rest of my life making you realize this”

“You want to spend the rest of your life- the rest of your life with me?” Spencer asks, sounding like he can’t believe the words that you say.

“Spence, I’ve loved you since I’ve known you,” you say, dragging your hands through his curly hair that’s matted against his forehead, “You would have realized that if you weren’t too carried away with making me your future history,”

“I think I have a habit of doing that,” Spencer confesses, kissing your forehead sweetly, “You’re- I’m sorry that I worried you like that, but for so long, for so long this is all I’ve had. And before that it was school. I throw myself into academia or work because it’s all I had,”

“Had,” you repeat, “as in the past tense. You’ve had some much more than too, Spence. We all love you. Elle and Derek. JJ and Hotch. Penny and Gideon. We all love you, but I love you the most,”

“Good,” Spencer replies, turning his head down to kiss you, “because I love you the most,”

His lips glide across yours, moving slowly at first and faster as he grows more urgent. There’s no sense in rushing through. You could kiss him lazily in your bed all night and continue until it gives way to morning. There’s no time limit, no buzzer that’s going to go off and force Spencer to whole himself back up into his past. He smiles through the kiss, knowing well that there’s more to come tomorrow, or maybe even tonight. His lips were warm and soft, maybe still a little tender from before, but still eager to feel your lips against his. Breathing together, savoring that you both are breathing, you smile yourself, fully ready for whatever comes next.

***

Taglist (not my usual taglist because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable bc this is smut. You can join the taglist here!)

@shemarmooresfedora @just-another-persona123 @folkreid @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @spencersrose @strawberryspence

[outerbankies]

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

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