#poor girl's got some trauma

[astraveil]

Astra can, sometimes, handle a storm or two. On rare occasions, it makes her feel as helpless as the day she left the Steppe. Memories come back of fire dancing across the earth, the taste of ash and smoke lingering on her tongue, and that acute feeling in the back of her mind reminds her of why she traveled in the first place.

She stays inside, those days, surrounding herself with people she cherishes now that she has them.

The powers been out and back several times since yesterday (thank you Texas power grid) due to the thunderstorms sweeping through the area, so I'm curious:

How does your WoL/OC feel about storms and scary weather?

[rubylarkspur22]

A Headcanon About The Burned Lands Introduction

So, while watching the cutscenes for Dawn of the Dragon, I keep thinking about the introduction to Burned Lands. Particularly, how Cynder talks to Spyro after Ignitus sacrifices himself to get them both across the Belt of Fire.

I know the voice acting leaves much to be desired in that scene, but I wanted to share my take on the more story-related side of things. Specifically, Cynder. Continuing below the cut, so as not to clog up dashes.

My take on the scene is that she's trying to calm Spyro down. Not just to keep him from doing something stupid(i.e. pulling them both into the fire to try and save Ignitus, which would only send them to the same fiery grave), but also because of one thing that does end up happening in this scene.

Dark Spyro.

Remember, Cynder is one of only two people who actually know about this form in the game. And she also has personal experience with the effects the Darkness can have on someone when they're exposed. If Dark Spyro reemerged, there wouldn't be much she could do to stop him. It wouldn't be as simple as it was in the Well of Souls, where she just had to get Spyro away from the Dark Aether to stop his exposure.

So she tries to talk him down, telling him to let it go and not make an irrational decision that would kill them both. Not because she's not grieving Ignitus. She may not have been as close to the Fire Guardian as Spyro, but he was still one of the friendlier people to her after she was freed. And losing him still hurt.

But she knew Spyro saw Ignitus as something of a father figure. She could see just how badly he was hurting when they landed. And she knew if Spyro wasn't careful, he could lose himself again. But she hopes she can redirect his focus away from his grief, and towards the task they have to complete.

But then Spyro starts to give in. And Cynder panics. If she can't snap him out of it, they are in big trouble. But she also can't fight him. In his state, he wouldn't hold back, and their power difference would be even greater. And while she didn't see what happened to Gaul... Well, the fact Spyro was the only one to emerge from that lower level speaks volumes. The best she can do is keep talking. Get him to calm down enough to regain control. But in the end, it's up to Spyro if he chooses to come back to himself or to give in.

Thankfully, she gets through to him. He snaps out of it before he does something dangerous. He's still hurting, that much is obvious, but Cynder is there to be his support. He's not alone, no matter how much he feels like he is. And Ignitus' sacrifice won't be in vain.

If the voice direction were better, I could absolutely see Cynder being conveyed as more panicked/stressed in this scene. Less obviously in the beginning, before Dark Spyro, but more clearly when he does make his comeback. We saw how she reacted to Dark Spyro in The Eternal Night; she was scared there. But she figured out what to do pretty quickly. In the much less controlled situation of "Oh, Ignitus just died to protect them, and Spyro's losing himself to his grief for his father figure, with no Dark Aether to remove as an exposure component"? I imagine she'd be freaking out, looking for literally any way to stop him from keeping this up. Especially with the need to confront Malefor, preferably before the planet exploded.

[goldfades]

i don't believe in god, but i believe that you're my savior; my mom says that she's worried, but i'm covered in this favor; and when we're getting dirty, i forget all that is wrong───PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | she was the kind of girl who lit up rooms and wrecked worlds in the same breath—a gravity too intense to resist. you’d sworn off falling, but the first time she laughed, smoke curling from her lips like an invitation to a wildfire, you were already in freefall. between stolen touches and reckless nights, you wonder if paige is your salvation or your undoing—or maybe a bit of both.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | whoo, where do i begin? very angsty (but with a happy ending!), A LOT OF religious trauma, biblical allusions, descriptions of internalized homophobia, um... idk what else?

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | okay i wanna preface this by saying... this is NOT a realistic reflection of paige because i know she is religious (i am too) but for the sake of this fic, it's just not a direct correlation. ANYWAY, i got this fic request a couple hours ago and this has been in my drafts for a while, and it's for sailor song so i decided just to mix the two. but fair warning; this is VERY self-indulgent, like super... but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless!

It started with her laugh.

Low, sharp, intoxicating—like she knew something you didn’t, and the knowing was half the fun. The sound carried through the room, brushing against your skin, leaving a warmth behind that didn’t quite fade.

You hadn’t meant to look. It was a casual glance, a passive observation of the crowd gathered in the dim light of some off-campus house party. But there she was, Paige, head tilted back, blonde hair loose and gleaming like spun gold in the chaos of flashing lights. Beautiful didn’t quite cover it. She was an image that felt ripped straight from a psalm—crafted by hands too divine to belong to this earth.

You told yourself to look away. But it was like trying to pull your gaze from the altar during a prayer; you knew better, but you stayed. Her presence burned, the kind of flame you’d always been taught to fear. And yet, the yearning rose in you like a hymn.

She held a vape pen in one hand, her other resting lazily against the kitchen counter. When she brought it to her lips and exhaled, the plume of smoke rose like incense, curling toward the low ceiling. It wasn’t just a casual gesture—it was deliberate, a communion, and you felt the weight of her gaze as she caught you staring. Her eyes—blue like stained glass on a Sunday morning—locked with yours, and in that instant, you swore she saw straight through you. Every doubt. Every prayer you’d whispered to keep yourself in line.

Your chest tightened. It felt less like a chance meeting and more like a test. A temptation. You wanted to pass. You wanted to fail.

Her smirk formed slowly, a deliberate curve of her lips that made your breath catch. She waved the pen in a lazy arc, motioning you over. Something inside you—rebellion, recklessness, or maybe just exhaustion—told you to move. So you did.

Every step toward her felt like crossing a line you’d drawn for yourself long ago. The room blurred, fading into irrelevance as you neared. She was all you could see, every detail sharper and brighter than it had any right to be. Her hoodie hung loose on her frame, the strings unevenly tugged. Her nails, painted the softest blush, tapped rhythmically against the counter.

“You always stare like that?” she asked, voice low but cutting through the din around you. Her tone was casual, but her eyes… they were anything but. They pinned you in place, unrelenting.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you fumbled for an answer. “No. I mean—sorry, I wasn’t—”

“Relax.” She leaned in, close enough that you could smell the faint mix of mint and something sweeter. “I don’t bite.” A pause, her grin widening. “Not unless you want me to.”

Your laugh came out shaky, a poor attempt at deflecting the rising tension in your chest. “Do you always talk like this?”

“Only when I’m interested.” The words landed heavy, like a confession in a darkened booth. Paige tilted her head, studying you. “What’s your name?”

You told her, and the way she repeated it back made it sound different—softer, like she was testing the weight of it in her mouth. She offered her hand, the gesture disarmingly formal. When your fingers touched, the spark was immediate, electric. You wondered if she felt it too.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her grip firm but unhurried, like she had all the time in the world to unravel you.

You didn’t have all the time in the world. That was the problem. Years of sermons and Bible studies echoed in your mind like a chorus of warnings. Narrow is the road, straight is the gate, and you were barreling down the wide, crooked path without a second thought.

“So,” Paige said, pulling you back to the present, “you drink, or are you just here for the vibes?”

“I don’t drink.” The answer came automatic, instinctive, a remnant of the rules you hadn’t yet shaken off. Paige arched an eyebrow, intrigued but not mocking.

“Interesting.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping. “Guess I’ll have to figure out what your vice is.”

The air between you felt charged, heavy with something unspoken. You tried to speak, to say anything that would keep you grounded, but nothing came. All you could do was stand there, caught in the pull of her presence.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing her vape from the counter and motioning for you to follow her. “Let’s get out of here. It’s too loud.”

You hesitated, the weight of invisible judgment pressing against you. But then she smiled—soft, earnest, utterly disarming—and the resistance crumbled. It felt wrong, undeniably so. But it also felt like freedom.

So you followed.

The night air hit you like a baptism, cool and sobering after the crowded haze of the party. Paige walked ahead of you, her hands shoved into her hoodie pockets, her steps unhurried. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure you were still there, flashing you a smile that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

You kept a few paces behind, your mind a storm of contradictions. Everything about this felt dangerous, like stepping into a story you’d been warned against since you were a child. But there was something magnetic about her, something that made you ignore the small, insistent voice in the back of your head telling you to turn back. She moved like she owned the night, and for a moment, you wondered if maybe she did.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice a little too high, a little too thin.

“Someplace quiet,” she said, not turning around. “Don’t worry, I’m not a serial killer.”

“That’s exactly what a serial killer would say.”

She laughed, and it was soft this time, less sharp-edged than before. “Fair point. But I think you’re safe with me. Trust me?”

You didn’t answer, but the fact that you kept walking was its own reply. Paige led you down a winding street lined with trees, the leaves whispering in the breeze like they were in on some divine secret. You felt like a lamb being led away from the flock, the shepherd nowhere in sight. But instead of fear, all you felt was the thrill of it—the breaking of the rules, the stepping out of bounds.

Eventually, she stopped in front of a small park, deserted except for a few streetlights casting pale pools of light over the benches. She sat on one of them, her legs sprawled out casually, and gestured for you to join her.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before sitting, careful to leave a polite amount of space between you. Paige noticed and smirked, shifting slightly so your knees almost touched. The proximity made your pulse quicken.

“Relax,” she said, pulling the vape pen out of her pocket and twirling it between her fingers. “I don’t bite, remember?”

You tried to smile, but it felt stiff, unnatural. “Not unless I want you to, right?”

Paige’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Exactly. You’re catching on.” She brought the vape to her lips, taking a long drag before exhaling. The smoke curled lazily in the air, illuminated by the glow of the streetlight. She tilted her head, studying you. “So, what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah. You’re giving off… I don’t know. Saintly vibes.” Her tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity in her eyes. “Like you stepped out of some Catholic school choir.”

You stiffened, the words hitting closer to home than she could’ve known. “I… grew up religious.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Religious, huh? Like, church every Sunday, Bible verses on the fridge, all that?”

You nodded, a tightness creeping into your chest. “Pretty much.”

She leaned back, her expression unreadable. “And now?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t a question you liked answering, mostly because you didn’t know the answer yourself. “Now… I don’t know. I guess I’m figuring it out.”

Paige nodded slowly, her gaze softening. “That’s fair. Takes time to unlearn all that, right?”

The word unlearn felt heavy, like it carried a weight you weren’t ready to unpack. You looked down at your hands, suddenly unsure of what to do with them. “Something like that.”

For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of traffic. Then Paige spoke, her voice quieter this time. “You know, I used to go to church too.”

Your head snapped up, surprise flickering across your face. “You did?”

She nodded, exhaling another plume of smoke. “Yeah. My grandma made me go. Every Sunday, no exceptions. I hated it back then. All the rules, all the guilt… it was suffocating.” She paused, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “But now, I don’t know. Sometimes I miss it.”

“Miss it?” The idea seemed foreign, almost impossible. “Why?”

Paige shrugged. “I guess… it was nice, believing in something bigger than yourself. Feeling like someone up there gave a damn about you.” She looked at you, her eyes searching. “You ever feel like that?”

You wanted to say no, wanted to deny it outright. But the truth was, you had felt that once. Before the doubts, before the questions, before the endless weight of trying to reconcile who you were with who you were supposed to be. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “I don’t know.”

Paige nodded, as if she understood. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty damn interesting. Religious trauma and all.” She grinned, her teasing tone returning. “Maybe I’ll save you.”

The words hung in the air, light and joking, but they hit you harder than you cared to admit. You looked at her, the girl who seemed to embody everything you’d been taught to fear, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was right.

And that’s how this whole thing began—the beginning of the end.

It wasn’t a relationship, not exactly. It wasn’t even a proper friendship. You weren’t sure what to call it. Some blurry, undefined space where your worlds collided—recklessly, beautifully, disastrously. Paige would text you late at night, a simple you up? and before you even had time to think, you’d find yourself in her orbit again. Her dorm, a parked car, that same park bench. The locations changed, but the pattern didn’t.

She kissed like she had something to prove, like she knew exactly what you wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it. And God, did you let her take it. Every time. Every brush of her lips, every tug at the edges of your carefully constructed world, it left you breathless. Empty. Full. You couldn’t tell anymore.

You told yourself it was just physical—nothing more than a release. But that was a lie, and you both knew it. Especially when she’d pull away and rest her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your cheek, her voice soft in the stillness.

“You okay?” she’d ask, her tone full of something that felt too much like care.

You’d nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Fine. That was another lie. You weren’t fine. You were far from it. Every time you left her, slipping back into the quiet safety of your own bed, you could feel the guilt clawing at your chest like a living thing. It whispered in your ear, cruel and relentless, reminding you of every rule you were breaking, every promise you were shattering.

But the worst part? You reveled in it. There was a twisted kind of freedom in the guilt, like stepping into a storm and letting it drench you. It was messy and terrifying and so far removed from the pristine, polished version of yourself you’d been raised to be. With Paige, you weren’t the good girl anymore. You weren’t the dutiful daughter or the pious believer. You were raw, unfiltered, unapologetically human. And you hated how much you loved it.

┈┈┈

One night, after another one of those late-night texts, you found yourself sprawled on Paige’s bed, your head resting against her chest as her fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm. The room smelled faintly of her lavender laundry detergent and the minty vape she always carried. It should’ve been calming, but it wasn’t. Not tonight.

“You’re quiet,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek. “Nothing. Just tired.”

“Liar.” Her fingers paused, and she tilted her head to look at you. “You’ve got that look again.”

“What look?”

“That I’m feeling guilty as hell but too stubborn to admit it look.”

Her words hit too close to home, and you shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She sighed, her hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was too tender, too intimate. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You closed your eyes, the weight of her gaze almost too much to bear. “I don’t think you’d understand.”

“Try me.”

The room felt heavy, the air thick with unspoken words. You didn’t want to say it, but the truth was clawing its way out, demanding to be heard. “I just… I can’t stop feeling like this is wrong. Like I’m wrong.”

Paige stiffened beneath you, the softness in her expression giving way to something sharper. “Wrong? What does that even mean?”

You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest. “It means this. Us. Everything. It’s not… it’s not what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Says who?” Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now, a defensiveness you’d never heard before.

You looked at her, your throat tightening. “Everyone. My parents. My pastor. God.”

The word hung between you like a curse, and Paige let out a bitter laugh, sitting up as well. “God? Really? You think God’s sitting up there, keeping score of who you kiss?”

“It’s not just that,” you said, your voice cracking. “It’s everything. The lying, the sneaking around, the… the way I feel about you. It’s too much.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, but instead of the defensiveness you expected, she exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing. “Look, I might not be the most religious,” she began, her voice steady but gentle, “but I don’t think God’s sitting up there keeping some cosmic tally of who you kiss or how you feel. That’s not love. That’s control.”

Her words made you flinch, and she reached out, her hand brushing yours lightly before pulling back. “You grew up being told He’s this all-powerful, all-knowing being, right? So, if He’s that big, that perfect, then don’t you think He’s got room for you, too? For… this?” She gestured between the two of you, her voice softening. “I mean, if God is love, doesn’t that include the kind you feel for me?”

Your throat tightened, and you felt the tears coming before you could stop them. Paige saw, but she didn’t shy away. Instead, she leaned in, her voice dropping even lower, like she was sharing a secret just for you. “You’re not broken. You’re not wrong. And you sure as hell don’t need saving. Not from me. Not from anyone.”

For a fleeting moment, the knot in your chest loosened. Paige’s words were like a salve, soothing the ache you’d carried for so long. She made it sound so simple—love as something pure and whole, untainted by judgment or shame. You wanted to believe her. God, you wanted to.

And for a moment, you did. You let yourself lean into her warmth, let yourself imagine a version of this where you could breathe freely, unburdened by guilt. But it didn’t last. The weight of your upbringing—the sermons, the warnings, the whispered prayers for deliverance—settled back over you like a heavy cloak.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “Maybe God doesn’t care. But I do.”

Paige frowned, her brows furrowing. “Why?”

“Because it’s not just about Him,” you said, your hands clutching your knees tightly. “It’s about everything. My parents. My community. The person I’ve spent my whole life trying to be.”

Her face softened, and she reached for your hand again, her grip firm and grounding. “But what about the person you are? The one sitting right here, right now?”

You couldn’t answer. Or maybe you didn’t want to. The truth felt too raw, too messy to say out loud.

Paige sighed, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Look, I get that this is complicated for you. But you deserve to love and be loved without feeling like you’re doing something wrong. And if no one’s ever told you that before, then I’m telling you now.”

Her words lingered, wrapping around you like a safety net. You wanted to fall into it, to let her catch you. But the ground beneath you still felt too shaky, too uncertain.

So you stayed quiet, letting her hold your hand while the silence stretched between you. It wasn’t resolution, but it was something. And for now, that was all you could handle.

Over the weeks that followed, something began to shift. Paige didn’t press you, didn’t demand answers you weren’t ready to give. Instead, she stayed patient, like she understood the weight you carried better than anyone ever had. She didn’t push you to talk about your guilt, but she made space for you when you did. Slowly, you began to let her in.

It started small. A whispered confession in the quiet of her dorm. A memory shared over takeout cartons and late-night reruns of shows you’d never admit to liking. The walls you’d spent years building began to crumble, piece by piece, under her steady gaze and unflinching kindness.

One night, as you lay sprawled on her couch, the conversation wandered back to the topic you’d both been skirting around for days.

“Do you ever think about leaving it all behind?” Paige asked, her voice soft but curious.

“Leaving what behind?”

She tilted her head toward you. “The guilt. The rules. The version of yourself you’re so scared to let go of.”

You didn’t answer right away. You traced the pattern of the couch cushion beneath your fingers, searching for words that wouldn’t come. Finally, you sighed. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” she said. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be as complicated as you think.”

The conversation stuck with you. Paige didn’t have all the answers, but she had a way of making you feel like you could find them yourself. She challenged you to ask questions you’d spent years avoiding, to rethink the parts of your faith that had been weaponized against you.

“I don’t think you have to throw it all away,” she said one night, her voice careful, deliberate. “Your faith, I mean. Maybe it just needs to look different. More… you. I never left that religious part of my life, I just... made it more me.”

You didn’t know what that meant yet, but the idea of redefining your faith—of making it your own—felt like a spark in the darkness.

For the first time in years, you began to feel something that resembled peace. There were moments, fleeting but powerful, where you allowed yourself to be happy without questioning if you deserved it. Moments when Paige’s laugh lit up a room, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her. Moments when she kissed you, and the world went quiet, and the only thing that mattered was her hands in your hair and her breath against your skin.

It wasn’t perfect. The guilt didn’t disappear overnight. It still crept in, especially when you were alone, whispering that you were wrong, broken, sinful. But it didn’t consume you the way it used to.

Because now, there was something stronger than the guilt. There was Paige. And there was you. The version of you she saw—the one who deserved love, who could rewrite the rules, who didn’t have to apologize for existing.

And maybe, just maybe, that version of you was worth believing in.

Falling in love with Paige wasn’t a dramatic, earth-shattering event. It wasn’t fireworks or grand declarations or sudden epiphanies. It was quieter than that, gentler. Like the tide rolling in, it happened so naturally, so effortlessly, that you didn’t even realize it was happening until you were already submerged.

It was in the small things—the way she’d instinctively hold your hand during a scary part of a movie, her thumb drawing lazy circles on your skin. The way she always knew when you needed space and when you needed her closer, as if she could read the thoughts you couldn’t put into words. The way she’d say your name, softly, like it was her favorite word.

You started noticing how her laugh could fill a room, making even the dullest moments feel alive. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved—basketball, her dog back home, or the time she convinced her whole team to wear matching Crocs. Paige had this way of making the ordinary extraordinary, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

She never tried to fix you, never made you feel like you were some puzzle that needed solving. She just saw you—the real you, the messy, complicated, guilt-ridden you—and loved you anyway.

Paige’s love wasn’t flashy or conditional or based on expectations. It was steady, like a heartbeat, a rhythm you could count on even when everything else felt uncertain.

It wasn’t in the grand gestures but in the little moments. Like when she brought you coffee the exact way you liked it, without asking. Or when she remembered the names of the books you’d mentioned in passing and bought you one “just because.” It was in the way she’d text you random memes during the day, just to make you laugh, and the way she’d listen—really listen—when you spoke about your fears, your dreams, your past.

One night, you found yourself lying beside her, the room lit only by the faint glow of her bedside lamp. She was doodling something on your arm with her finger, her touch light and absentminded.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice soft.

“Drawing stars,” she said with a grin. “Because you’re my universe.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your face. “That’s so cheesy.”

“Yeah, but it made you smile,” she shot back, her voice full of playful confidence.

And it did. She always did.

As you lay there, her head resting against your shoulder, you realized that this—she—made you feel complete in a way you hadn’t even known was possible. Paige loved you in a way that felt so simple, so natural, that it made you question everything you’d ever believed about love.

You used to think you were hard to love. That you came with too much baggage, too many rules, too much you. But with Paige, there was no effort, no hesitation. She loved you like it was breathing, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And for the first time, you began to wonder if maybe she was right. If maybe love didn’t have to be hard or painful or earned. If maybe, just maybe, it could be as simple as this.

Over time, the love between you grew, not in explosive leaps but in quiet, steady steps. It wasn’t just the way she kissed you or held your hand. It was in the way she made you laugh until your sides hurt, the way she celebrated your victories, big or small, like they were her own. It was in the way she never gave up on you, even when you struggled to believe in yourself.

It wasn’t perfect. You weren’t perfect. But Paige made you feel like you didn’t have to be. She made you feel whole, even in the moments when you felt broken.

And as you fell deeper into this love—this easy, unconditional love—you began to realize something else. You weren’t just falling in love with her. You were starting to fall in love with yourself, too.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[melled42]

Idk if this is a huge request or not, but could you explain more about Bell? (The shitten in your au)

I would be thankful, take care.

Yeah, ive done like... 3 pieces of her max but she gets SO many asks lol. the story isn't really ready for her yet, and i'd like to finish what im working on before i do more with her, but i'll give the basic rundown.

she LITTERALY started as a joke baby post but she got so much interaction i said i'd expand on her design and now she seems to just have a following of simps (oops, like lamb like daughter)

most of the old ideas for ewen and nari with her are out of date now on the art, but heres a bunch of plot and some unposted sketches under cut

Nari and Ewen are married and leading the cult still. all the siblings have kids, grandkids and even great grandkids (excluding shamura). Its only after they decide having a child is someone for them to love and raise, not someone who they're forcing the cycle of trauma on that they have Bell. And they adore her. While growing up, one by one, the former bishops, all her aunts, uncles, and shamura decided it was time to peacefully end their long lives. So she sees death as a good thing, the satisfying end to a long life story. So when Ewen and Narinder are ready to die together, even though they say she doesn't have to, she takes on the crown and ends if for them with a last "i love you" between them. She runs the cult now which is more themed around their shared neck wound "rings" and their relationship than just the lamb. She's called "the black sheep" by her followers (or queen if they're kinky, princess when shes younger). she wields the crown as a pair of horns and a sythe, sine the cult of the black rings also referenced Ewen's large black horns and she keeps up the theme.

Baal and Aym are her "brothers" (more of her body guards and technically her cousins but she refuses to call them anything else) and her body guards, staying after their master's death. They've known her since she was a baby and still treat her as one sometimes. She's VERY protective over them, but also will bully them sometimes, like kicking their asses when training and saying they're just going easy on her like when she was a kid, knowing full well she's overpowered by the crown.

Because shes such an oddity, the mystic seller assigned one of their followers to keep an eye on her and, much like her "ba ba" she found the overpowered demigod shes now obsessed with. With some help from Ewen before they passed, they were able to translate their glyphs. Now that helper follows her around disguised as a poor imitation of a regular mortal to better understand her and the mortal realm. Or at least thats what she convinced them to do since she wants them around <3 probably not to their masters liking lol. I haven't decided on a name yet. Bell eventually give them the purple crown (they/it)

Before they left, Narinder was trying to reawaken the crowns, whether for the memory of his siblings, or that the cult was growing too large to be centered on the red crown. They're not very powerful right now and Bell is the leader of the others, more like a babysitter.

The blue crown is with Kalliope (kalli for short) (she/her), a distant relative of Kallamar's who had to fight, both physically and socially, with all her other of age relatives to get the chance, since Kallamar's polycule made a LOT of kids and grand kids. She's kind of bitchy about it and whines about everyone not respecting her or how hard she worked. shes a flamboyant cuttlefish and trans femme. also the crown is worn like an earring. Bell has little tolerance for her and they have a lot of bitchy girl fights.

The green crown is with isop (a kinda combo of isopod and aesop) (he/him) who is a rubber ducky isopod. he's Leshy's great great grandkid, and really only god the crown because no one else on the peaceful forest farm leshy put together in his later years really wanted it and figured it meant free babysitting. he's pretty young and small with a fascination for chaos and violence that only little kids without developed social perception can have, though he more watches at this point. The others tend to carry him or he rolls around in a little ball. The crown is worn like glasses.

The orange crown is with Mycelia (lia for short) (they/them plural) who is a homunculus mushroomo made through experimentation by Heket and Sozo before they died. they're the only one who is actually older than Bell. They're undying because they're a hive mind of all the mushroomo, who have been progressively growing. They can see everything the others see, can spout new bodies when needed and even feed on their own dead bodies. Bell sometimes just kills them when they're frustrated with them or other things. They'd be a threat but they're very monotone and emotionless about pretty much everything and don't care. They've worked with the red crown just because death is a natural boon to fungus and keeps them alive. The orange crown is worn as a necklace.

Heres some sketches since I haven't been able to get the designs to my liking but people keep asking so :T

[babygirl-riley]

Daddy’s Gonna Buy You a Mockingbird

When coming home Simon hears his daughter start to fuss.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood trauma, fluff, swearing, Dad!Simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

Simon was fucking tired, the mission was long and difficult. It took them 4 months to plan the fucker just for the target to know their every move. He lost lots of men and women those nights, they had to camp somewhere in the middle of the desert cause transportation got fucked.

He unlocked the door of his home and walked in. Immediately he heard the whimpering. Simon heard you trying to lullaby both of your toddler. Simon was told that she has been sick for almost 4 days. It was teething that led to two ear infections. His poor angel was getting her ass jumped left and right with them infections.

He took his mask and boots off leaving them on the shelf near the door. He locked the door as he made his way through the hallway. When getting closer he heard you sniffling. “I don’t know what to do baby girl,” The toddler cried harder as you cried with her. “I am sorry. What do you need baby?”

Simon tapped the door making you jump. At first you thought you were going to fight but then relief came through. “Simon,” You started to sob. “Just take a shower and I will be there in minute.”

“I can take her.” He said walking fully in.

“No,” You wiped your tears quickly before shaking your head. “It’s fine you just got home. Please just take a shower love.”

Simon nodded, he didn’t want to but he could tell if he didn’t you would burst. He saw the dark circles under your eyes, how red your eyes were. You haven’t gotten any sleep. That tugged at his best strings, you have been dealing with this all by yourself so he wants to be able to help you.

Simon quickly got into the shower, washing all the paint, blood, sweat, and dirt from him. He waited for a moment before turning the faucet off and get out. He heard your sobs once more as he wrapped the towel around himself. Opening the door that showed you laying on your side curled up. Simon walked up to you and sat next to your body. He placed a hand on your hip rubbing circles.

“Not the best welcome home,” You sighed turning to face him. “Im sorry.”

“For what love? Taking care of our child? Don’t ever apologize for that.” He reassured, basically whispering.

“Just me crying and Im so fucking tried. She doesn’t sleep nothing longer than maybe 5 minutes before she is screaming. And I wanted to give you a warmer welcome and instead buzzed you off and…”

“Thats enough sweethear’ it has been a long week for you,” He got up to grab sweatpants and went around to his side to pull the blankets up and over him. You watched as he laid and scooted closer to you wrapping his arm around you. “Come ‘ere, get some sleep my dove.”

He doesn’t remember when you fell asleep or even him. Simon heard the soft whimpers start, you didn’t move and he was glad that you didn’t. He was also very happy that you moved out of his grasp while in your sleep. Simon carefully and quietly headed out of the room. Rubbing his tired eyes as he made it to his daughter’s room.

When he approached the room there she was. Standing up in her crib crying, once her eyes landed on his she cried harder. “Daddy.” She called a couple of times.

“Alright princess, you’re alright daddy’s here.” He said picking her up.

It took him a back of how hot she is, sweat gripping her pjs. Her crying increasing as she gripped onto his shoulder. “Shhh I know,” He said bouncing up and down. “I know baby.”

He felt her diaper and walked to the changing table, which to her was a sin. When he placed her down she screamed a bit, immediately he gently placed a palm on her chest. Putting small pressure. She stopped screaming as she still cried. His daughter loved when he did that when she wanted to be cuddled yet when he had to do certain things like this.

Because of how many times he has done this with her, he one handed did the diaper. He left her only in her diaper, get some air to her skin due to sweating and her being hot. As she still cried, he picked her up and lead out of the room walking to the kitchen. “Let’s try a warm bottle and me a tea yeah?” He said quietly, holding her close as she still cried.

While working on the bottle he rocked back and forth waiting for the teapot to heat up. He wrapped both of his arms around her holding her more close. “I’m ‘orry my birdie, teeth are arseholes. I know.”

She held around his neck placing her head down on his shoulder. Simon kept holding on until the smallest noise came from the pot. He didn’t want to wake you, he was even surprised you haven’t woke up yet. His daughter became more whimpering than crying.

He poured his mug first so the water could cool down just a bit more. Then poured water into her bottle. He made his tea before finish making her bottle. Afterward he walked to the living room and placed the tv on. Miss Rachel was her favorite to watch lately, that’s what you mentioned.

He placed her forward towards the tv as he placed his mug on the side table. Simon held her close to him as she drank her bottle. Rubbing her belly as he watched the show with her. He hated this woman, just found her annoying, you mentioned to him that it was her job to do that fake high pitch thing. To him it just made him want to mute it and never see it again.

His daughter leaned closer to him as he sipped his tea. She sniffled and hiccuped due to crying the whole time. He smoothed her thick blonde hair back, making her eyes roll. Another thing she gets from him. People massaging his scalp or play with his hair he would pass out from.

After three videos both Simon and her were laying on the couch. He had her on his chest with a blanket on both of them. “Shh I know,” He said as she started to whimper again. “Daddy is here, don’t worry. He will stay. I would do anythin’ for you not to be in this pain.”

She sucked on her binki her eyes rolling fighting sleep. Yet another thing she got from him. Fighting sleep. Simon remembered when you told him you were pregnant with her. He was terrified. Scared that he wouldn’t be good to her, that he would turn into his own father.

Simon actually left for hours from the house making you think that it was a bad idea to tell him. Until he came back in tears, first time you seen him break down. Telling you his fears and worries. You would comfort him and hold him that he has never been an ounce of his father. Never be like him.

Simon remembered when he asked for his dad to hold him. His dad told him to stop being a child, to grow up. Or even watch him cry in pain and laugh at the fact he was crying. He even remember Tommy being hit for even mentioning that his throat hurt. Telling him that is something to be crying about when he was hurt.

Because of those memories he was going on for months in his mind that he didn’t believed that, didn’t believe that he would be a good father, it wasn’t until she was born. When he held her in his big hands. He knew that this was the opportunity to not be his low life father. And yet here he was being not that, his father would have never been comforting him when he was sick. Holding him. Loving him. He was grateful to be able to be here for her. For you. To show the love and care that he wanted to.

Simon sighed as he felt her breathing slow down, falling into deep sleep. He settled more down into the couch as he closed his eyes, holding on to his princess.

You woke up with the sun beaming into the room. You groaned as you placed a hand to where Simon would have been. It was cold. You opened your eyes and frowned. Was a dream that he was home? You sighed getting up and heading to your daughter’s room. For it to be empty too.

You walked around the house figuring out where the hell was your daughter. Which when you heard Miss Rachel on the tv and two figures on the couch. It made your heart swell. You walked to around to face both your daughter clinging onto her father. Simon softly snoring and his daughter as well. You forget how similar they look.

The soft features of when they slept. Their hair. Their nose. You also noticed that she was just in her diaper and didn’t look sweaty. You inhaled deeply feeling a bit of relief. Hopefully that means that her temperature went down and back to normal.

You smiled thinking about the time where you were almost about to pop. Simon holding your tummy telling your daughter that he will protect her with every ounce of his being. Not matter where or what she is doing, he will be there. You would play with his hair as he rubbed your tummy, feeling her move every time he would place a hand on your tummy.

You grabbed both bottle and mug, walking back to the kitchen. “Definitely going to be a daddy’s girl.” You whispered, starting to make breakfast for your perfect family.

[autumnsvixen]

Damaged - part 2

previous || next (coming soon)

Azriel x f! reader

After a long and arduous recovery, you are finally able to feel safe in the House of Wind. You can't help but feeling as if something, or someone, is missing.

Word Count: 2777

Warnings: Reader healing from wounds, some mentions of past trauma (including blood, violence, and abuse), Rhys being nice (?)

A/N: Holy shit, thank you all for the love on part 1. I was not expecting that AT ALL, but I’m really glad you’re all enjoying it! This is, sadly, another part without much Az, but he’s coming (he's WHAT), I promise 😊

masterlist || request guidelines

The past week was a blur of darkness and pain. Your only real memories consisted of hazy visions of winged males, swirling shadows, and an elderly female fae with kind brown eyes.

As your eyes drifted open, you were blinded by the brightness flowing into the room from the opened curtains. The elder fae you had seen throughout your recovery hissed at someone else in the room, “Morrigan, close that curtain. You’ll give the poor girl a headache.”

Your blurry vision began to clear as the panging in your head became apparent. The pain seemingly spread throughout your body as you fully woke. A groan escaped you as you tried to shift yourself up to better observe the unfamiliar room you found yourself in, only to be gently pushed down by the same female that had just spoken.

“Don’t try to sit up. You’ve recovered a lot, but you still need rest.” Her voice was kind but strict, leaving no room for debate.

When you spoke, your voice came out rough, throat feeling like ash, “where am I?”

Another voice filled your ears as a beautiful female with golden hair moved into your vision, “you’re safe. Cassian and Rhys got you to the House of Wind just in time.” She sounded like honey; soft and sweet.

Her words registered with you, “Rhys, as in high lord Rhysand?” You again tried to sit up in the bed, shocked that Cassian had brought you to the home of the high lord.

The younger fae, who you had figured out was the Morrigan, laughed as the other huffed at you, but she didn’t push you back down. You leaned your back against the headboard, the wood cold against your wings.

“Don’t say it like he’s some god, he’ll get even more of an ego. But yes, the high lord. He winnowed you from just outside of Ironcrest.”

The older female spoke next, “and you’re lucky he did. If you had gotten here any later…” She shook her head, dismissing the thought.

Your heart clenched at the thought that you had almost died.

The two females in the room seemed to notice your thoughts as your eyes glazed over, your last conscious memories replaying in your mind. Morrigan gently grasped your hand, “you’re safe now. I promise those males won’t ever lay a hand on you again.”

A tear fell from your eye as you turned your head to look at her, “I just wanted to be able to defend myself.”

“Those cowards cornered you. It was three against one. Even if you had been training with Cas for years, they would still have had an advantage.” Anger and disgust laced her voice, and the glint in your eyes told you that these were not the first cowardly males she had encountered.

You nodded at her words, but no response escaped you. You couldn’t shake the thought that if you had just been stronger, you could have protected yourself. Or if you had just obeyed your brother’s wishes, you wouldn’t even be in this situation.

Morrigan seemed to sense your reluctance to accept her words as truth, so she turned to the other female in the room. “Madja, do you think it would be alright for her to eat something?”

The elderly fae nodded, swiftly leaving the room. Morrigan sat on the bed next to you, careful not to move your injured body, “Cassian told me your name is Y/N, right?”

You nodded, and she continued, “You can call me Mor. Cassian didn’t tell me much about what happened before the attack, but I promise you that the people here will never treat you the way you were treated back in the camp.”

You didn’t have the words to respond. Part of you hoped what she was saying was true, but another part of you knew that your brother, despite his faults, had always looked out for you. Until now, that is.

“If you want to train once you’re all healed, Cassian and I can help you. If you want to go back to Ironcrest, that is your choice, though one I would hate for you to make.”

You furrowed your brows at her, “You would let me stay? You don’t even know me.”

She smiled softly at you, “let’s just say our high lord has a soft spot for those who have experienced the worst this world has to offer. And Cas has told us enough about you for all of us to trust you.”

Gently, you squeezed her hand, “did he tell you I was the most difficult fae he’s ever had to train?”

Mor laughed, the sound falling gracefully onto your ears and drawing a small smile to your lips. “He told us you had the balance of a newborn fawn, but that you were determined in your training.”

“Do you really think he’d want to train me even after seeing how utterly defenseless I was against those males?” You asked softly, the smile falling from your face.

She looked at you with a kindness you rarely saw, “I’ll say it until your ears bleed, those males are cowards, and it took three of them to face you. You weren’t defenseless and you are not hopeless, you just need training and some more confidence. Cassian would be lucky to have you as a trainee.”

You nodded, “okay then. I’d like to stay here and train.”

Suddenly, Madja entered the room, “not until you are fully healed. You will stay here and rest until I say.” She placed a tray holding bowl of soup and a glass of water on the table next to your bed. “I swear, all you Illyrians are the same, never wanting to heal, always wanting to train,” she mumbled.

Madja didn’t clear you to leave the bed for another three days. In that time, Cassian, Rhysand, and Mor all took turns keeping you company. The first time you had met the high lord, you had clumsily tried to bow from your place in the bed, which more so looked like you trying to fold yourself in half. Of course, with the aching pain in your chest and stomach, this was accompanied by a grimace, which was not the face you had wanted to greet your high lord with. He had chuckled, waving you off with a “please, you’re a guest in my home, I don’t need the theatrics.”

You had quickly developed friendship with each of them, but none as close as Cassian. Perhaps because he was the fae you were most familiar with, or you just associated him with the feeling of safety.

You had thought of asking Cassian about the shadow-made man, but something in your gut stopped you from doing so. Perhaps you had just imagined him, and they would think you were mad if you brought him up.

By the time you were finally allowed to train, almost 2 weeks after waking up, you had begun to feel at home in the House of Wind. You’d had meals with Rhys, Cassian, Mor, and Amren, a member of the household who seemed much older than a high fae should be. Mor had promised once you were at full health, she and Cassian would show you the city and take you shopping, to which Cassian huffed at.

You started to feel at peace.

That was until Cassian woke you up before dawn one day, demanding you change into training clothes that Mor had provided you and meet him in the training arena on top of the house. Though tired, you eagerly complied, excited to start back the training you had gotten so little of back at camp.

When you got to the arena, you marveled at the extensive sand pit and the weapons that hung on racks around it. Cassian laughed at your amusement, “normally Az and I spar with just our hands, but sometimes we practice with the weapons, either on our own or with each other.”

“Az?” You questioned.

Cas’s eyes went wide with realization, “that’s right, you weren’t exactly… conscious when he was here. Azriel is my brother,” he grinned, thinking of the male. “He’s also our court’s spymaster, so he comes and goes pretty frequently. He’s off on a mission to who knows where right now, but he should be back by the end of the week. He keeps to himself, so you probably won’t see much of him when he is here, but once you get to know him, he’s a good guy.”

You nod, wondering if this was the shadow man you had believed your mind made up. But Cassian seemed so bright, you doubted his brother would be covered in such darkness. “Well, I look forward to meeting him.”

Your return to training was slow, but every morning you went up to the arena, Cas pushed you a little harder. By the end of your first week of training, you felt back to the way you were before you’d been attacked at camp.

Everyone was impressed by your progress, including yourself. You had expected to be haunted by the memories of those males, but you instead let it push you to train harder, wanting to ensure you were never in that situation again.

“Would you accompany out to the city today? I have a few things I’d like to pick up and I want to show you around.” Rhys asked you while you were clearing the table from breakfast. “And, no offense, I think it’s time you pick out your own clothes instead of whatever Mor decides to gift you.”

You chuckled, looking down at the dress the female had given you that day. It was tighter than you were used to a dress being, and much more revealing than anything you’d worn in the camps. Mor had called it modest by her standards.

With a bright smile at the high fae, you said, “I would love to.”

The city of Velaris, Rhys informed you, was his closest kept secret, and you could immediately tell why. The bright colors of the Rainbow and the display of culture throughout the city instantly had your heart pounding with excitement. This was a safe haven in the night court, and you felt incredibly lucky that Rhysand had trusted you enough to bring you here.

He had stopped by a few shops, buying himself a new jacket that seemed to absorb darkness and a set of earrings that he intended to gift to Amren as a Solstice present. As you walked, he told you about the different shops in the city and stories of its inhabitants.

Your eyes went wide as he opened the door to a bakery, the smell of sugary bread filling your nostrils. Pastries you had never heard of lined the shelves of a glass case. He bought you a sweet bun filled with lemon-flavored icing, and you swore it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

“I forgot how bland the food is at the markets back in the camps. Now that you’re in Velaris, I’ll make sure you get to experience the best food we have to offer.” He spoke as you gobbled up the sugary goodness.

You swallowed before speaking, “I really don’t know how I can ever repay your kindness, Rhysand. Seriously.”

He waved you off, “keep training and gathering your strength, and I’m sure I can find you a place in my circle. But even if you never work for me, I will continue to spoil you with the goodness of this city. You deserve it.”

Happy tears filled your eyes as he spoke. You had never experienced such care before arriving to the House of Wind, and now it all felt overwhelming. “I don’t have words to explain how honored I am to be here. One day, I will find a way to repay your kindness.”

He smirked playfully, “well, until you do, I’m going to continue to spoil you. I was thinking we could visit the clothes shops in the palace of thread and jewels.”

By the time you had finished shopping, you and Rhys were surrounded by bags filled with clothes and shoes. You insisted you would pay him back, but he simply waved off the expense as a “welcome present.”

The sky was dark as you exited the last shop, and your eyes widened as you spotted the lights lining the river that ran through the city. The high lord seemed to take notice of your amazement, as if he had expected it. “It’s even better from above,” he said quietly. With a wave of his hands, the bags in your arms disappeared.

You were shocked at the easy display of magic, until you realized what he had implied. You looked at him sadly, “I can’t- my wings-“

“I’ll carry you,” he cut you off. You nodded, thankful he understood. He picked you up, strong arms beneath your back and knees, before shooting off into the sky. You wrapped your own arms tightly around his neck as you screeched, the sudden weightlessness of flying catching you off guard.

There was something about being in the air that felt so natural. You knew it was due to your heritage, as Illyrians belonged in the sky, but you had never had the opportunity to actually experience it until now.

And Rhys was right, the city was somehow more beautiful from up here. The lights reflected off the Sidra, the waves making them appear to dance. The city squares seemed alive with lights and people. It was all breathtaking.

Rhys carried you through the air, dipping low before shooting high, as if playing a game of tag with the wind. You laughed as it blew your hair in all different directions. You stayed in the air for almost an hour, though you felt as if you could’ve stayed for years, before you landed on a balcony back in the House of Wind.

“Thank you for that, truly.” You spoke to him, removing your arms from his neck as your feet touched the ground.

He smiled at you, “any time.”

As you both walked into the seating room you had landed outside of, your breath is halted in your throat at the site of a male that had haunted your dreams since you arrived at the house.

Hazel eyes studied you for a moment before moving over to the male standing next to you. “Rhys, we need to talk.”

Rhys smirked, prancing to a nearby bar cart and pouring himself a glass of fae wine, “nice to see you too, brother. Glad you’re home safe.”

The stunning male’s expression remained neutral as he stared at Rhysand, unamused at his antics. You studied the angled bones of his cheeks and jaw, the shadows that swirled around his shoulders and neck. This was the man you had thought you imagined. And now that you had seen him, you were even more interested in learning more about him.

“Rhys.” His tone was stern. His voice pulled goosebumps to your skin, the deepness fitting his dark and shadowy appearance.

The high lord gave you a pitiful smile, “your bags are in your room, y/n, if you’d like to go admire your new belongings. Azriel and I need to discuss some things.”

You nodded, understanding his words for the dismissal they were. In that moment you also realized that this was the Azriel that Cassian had spoken to you so highly about. You remembered his words, “he keeps to himself… but once you get to know him, he’s a good guy.”

You hoped you could find out for yourself.

As you made your way up the stairs, you couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful stranger’s face, the toned body underneath his Illyrian leathers, and the shadows that seemed to keep him constant company.

You would definitely try to find out for yourself.

[icanseethefuture333]

Glamour Witch 🕯

A guide to confidence, beauty, & self love 🪞🩰🦢🍒💌

How I made glamour magick efficient for me and why working with the goddess Aphrodite shifted my self concept + help me connect to the divine feminine 🕊

First let's do a back story on my relationship with my matron 🌸:

My spiritual awakening happened when I was 17 years old after experiencing the loss of a loved one and coping with past trauma. I went into my adolescence with fear, agony, and poor self esteem. I was very much so a tomboy as a teenager (to this day I still have masculine qualities that I am now proud of and balanced it with my feminine side) but I was so out of touch with what being a "girl" was. I felt really self conscious about not being "woman" enough and had a complicated view on my gender (since I realized I was nonbinary at 14). I became interested in the occult since I grew up in a spiritual household (crystals, manifestation, etc) but never really got to engage with things like tarot or witchcraft because it was considered taboo. I had a reading done one day and I was told that Aphrodite wanted to work with me as my deity. My teenage self was confused by this because I thought - "The goddess of beauty and love wanted to work with me? Well that can't be right." I was expecting something more dark or cool like Hades or Hermes or whatever because that was just my personal style since I dressed very alternatively. I was nervous, but also intrigued. As I begun to pray to her and started doing spellwork - I felt safe, I felt loved, it was like a mother watching over me. I started learning how to do makeup for my ethnic features and became more educated about fashion and what it means to really be a true feminist. I learned to say fuck the binary system and made my own definition of not what just being a "woman" is but also what being "feminine" meant to me, period. You can be whatever you want to be and be beautiful regardless of what your appearance is like. Some days I want to wear snapbacks and sneakers, other times I wanna wear high heels with a flattering dress. I do what makes me feel comfortable and that's nobody's business but mine. Society made us believe that being sensitive, caring, or intuitive - the traits of the divine feminine (which we have in us all) as bad when it's not. There's strength in being soft and delicate. Be gentle towards yourself, my loves.

Embrace your shadow self to manifest your dream life ✨️:

You know what people will never tell you or admit to you on social media? Is that you can be self conscious and still be confident at the same time. Confidence is just being comfortable with yourself and knowing despite what you've been through or are feeling in the moment, it should not hold you back from achieving your fullest potential. Like Megan Thee Stallion said "Bad bitches have bad days too" And it's true! I have my good days and then I have my bad days, but even when I'm doubting or losing my faith, I always get back up by keep going. Why? It's because if I stop then I'm not living. I'm not being grateful for the life I still have while there are people out there battling severe illnesses and don't have much time left. Nobody wants to be candid and only want to portray themselves as perfect, when nobody is. It's a damaging narrative to think you have to be popping on social media and always staying positive. I don't know why being vulnerable is such a stigma these days. Everyone is scared of being hurt, sure, but there is so much power in knowing what you makes you happy and being able to voice what your wants/needs are. You get to live for yourself and not what others want you to be. Not to mention the importance of having the power and ability to set the boundaries your inner child probably never got to have?! I'm so tired of people spreading the belief of that you shouldn't talk about mental health, trauma, or personal fears because it makes you seem "weak" or "easy prey". That is the same tactics abusers use to make their victims stay hushed and makes them not able to stand up for themselves. That way of thinking is victim blaming! If you as a person, feel brave enough to discuss what the fuck is going on in your mind that does not make you a weakling, that makes you strong as hell. They are the weak ones for taking advantage of people who were already suffering. It's time to forgive yourself for your past mistakes and acknowledge what happened, but do not let it control you. You don't have to let go or get over it, it's okay if it's still a wound for you but you can choose to make it better by creating a better future by working with your higher self. Think about who you want to be, how you want to appear, what career you aspire to have, etc. Either write it down, visualize, or make a vision board. Release the old version of you and thank them for helping you survive.

I have been reading the book Mirror Work by Louise Hay and it entails about how the negative things people said or the difficult experiences we had dealt with in our lifetime gets stored in our subconscious mind. When we make jokes that are self depreciating or engage in self degrading behavior, it harms us even more, preventing us from maturing or loving ourselves. Doing shadow work is uncomfortable for everyone but it is a must to process the patterns in your life and learn as to why you become the person you are today. Being aware of your triggers and what makes you tick. Can make you more emotionally intelligent and be able to have a healthier conversation as well as creating lasting positive connections.

Books I recommend for subconscious reprogramming, shadow work, & healing from trauma:

Mirror Work by Louise Hay

"The Courage to" book series by Ichiro Kishimi & Fumitake Koga

Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend

The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle

The Self Confidence Workbook by Barbara Markway & Celia Ampel

Psychology of The Unconscious by Dr. Carl Jung

It Didn't Start With You by Mark Wolynn

You can also find shadow work prompts on pinterest.

Don't just say it, do it! 11 ways to actually practice self care:

Making a goal and actually putting the effort in can be tough for some individuals, especially for those diagnosed with depression. That's why it's important to be patient with yourself and understand that healing is a journey, not a race! A youtuber I have been enjoying and watching lately is the critically acclaimed, thewizardliz: An Iranian woman who gives advice on confidence, discipline, and more! A video that I watched of hers recently was called and bluntly titled: "How to stop being lazy & pathetic". In most of liz's videos she is someone who is tough but is also tender. She explains that when we are procrastinating it's because we are thinking of just the end goal, which scares us and makes us overthink about what to do or how to do it. When really, we can just take small, simple steps at a time to reach towards what we wish to accomplish, so that way it will feel less intimidating. If you have a essay that's due for example, try to write a few sentences each day, or think about how good it would feel if you were to get a good grade on your paper. Think of it this way - Would you rather slack and be upset you failed? Or would you rather prevent that from happening so you can be proud of what you achieved? Figure out what motivates you as a person and write it down so you can always be reminded of the confident being you wish to become.

Journaling: This is such a crucial hobby that I believe everyone should have. Writing down your thoughts or feelings helps not only increases your intelligence and brain health, but it also helps navigate your feelings better when you are facing a problem. You are able to reflect inward and discover the different parts of your psyche that you never knew you had.

Art: Divine feminine energy embodies the source of creation and life. The same way people with wombs give birth to children, an artist's project can be their beautiful baby. Find what type of art form brings you peace and allows you to express yourself (poetry, songwriting, dancing, painting, woodcarving, etc).

Exercise: I know this is something that some people struggle with (me included 💀) and when people hear that it's like "Ugh, I don't wanna work out! It's too hard!" but just hear me out okay? We have to exercise so our internal organs can stay healthy. When we don't take care of ourselves by not at least taking 15 minutes out of our day by walking, exercising, or cardio, when there is 24 hours in a day... That is a major neglect to yourself. Just remember that it is a privilege that you still have the ability to move, jump, lift, run, squat, and even more. When there are people who suffer from chronic pain and disabilities that are still making sure to take care of their physical health because they have no other choice. When you think about how you're too "lazy" and you can't do it because of your "laziness", think of those people! Cherish the health that you have before it's too late. You can start by stretching, going for walks, or watching workout videos for beginners on YouTube.

Build a schedule: Having a routine is so important because it helps reduce stress and organizes the task that we have to do throughout our day. Make a sleep schedule for yourself as well. Going to bed late until 3 am in the morning or waking up too early is unsafe and makes you less alert when you are out in the world. So please be careful! Try to at least get 6 hours of sleep a day. Drinking tea, taking a warm bath, or using essential oils can help you fall asleep if you don't like using melatonin.

Cleanliness & Hygiene: It's unfortunate that I have to say this but some people were not taught by their parents on how to be clean. Or how cishet men feel that being hygienic is "gay". That's absurd! Everyone should have a clean house, clean body, and a good hygiene routine. There is no excuse for that. Even when I was depressed I still would get up to brush my teeth or wash my hair because I knew that if I were to ever go too long without taking care of my hygiene I'd have to deal with damaging my teeth, hair, or skin. Everything has a cause and effect when you neglect doing self care and that could also be apart of the reason why you feel so down about your looks is due to that lack of poor hygiene. It doesn't have to be anything extravagant and you don’t need to do a 10 step skincare routine all the time. You can buy beauty products for cheap at off price retail stores and can get combs, toothbrushes, etc, at the dollar store. All you gotta do is wash your face and shower daily (scrub in between your ass cheeks, please and thank you 💀), brush your teeth at least 3 or more times a day, moisturize with lotions, use a sunscreen (cus nobody got time for skin cancer), apply deodorant, and that's literally it. You can use toners, serums, and skin treatments if you feel like it but that’s not neccessary unless you have specific concerns (acne, wrinkles, etc).

Personal finance 💵: As a Capricorn ♑️, there is nothing more important to me than having my own money. Knowing how to budget and being responsible with your funds is so crucial. You can manifest prosperity and be wealthy, but if you don't know what to do with a million dollars, how could you ever receive it? It is so attractive when someone is wise with their money. I took elective classes in high school for commercial art, marketing, and personal finance so that way I could learn to how to be independent as an adult and not have to "hustle" or live the struggle life. Always take care of your household bills (utilities, repairs, gas for the car, etc.) first and then leave a certain amount for yourself for when you want to have fun, go shopping, etc. Learn about how to make an investment, as well as stocks, because that is another way that you can make a lot of money (and no I don't mean Crypto or NFTs 😭)

Education is key 📚: READ HEAUXS REEEEAD 👓 Make those sapiosexuals quiver with your big sexy brain 🧠. I just feel like in general we need to be knowledgeable about our history and *Jaden Smith voice* the political state of the world right now. Being dismissive and ignorant is a major turn off. You have to be able to know how to communicate in certain settings or talk about certain subjects, or else you're gonna just look and sound dumb. I don't care if you like to read about insects or flowers, just find a topic that interests you.

Boundaries: A simple way to start implementing self care into your daily routine is by being able to say "Yes." Or "No." I know for women it is hard to assert themselves and say no especially when there is a grimy ass man tryna flirt with you (ayoooo shawty 🤓), but for your own protection you gotta do it. When people know you are not stern and you are not able to defend yourself, they take advantage of that. It makes you an easy target. Let's say for a example, you have a overbearing parent that constantly drains and takes from your energy. This parent doesn't respect you and makes you feel bad about yourself because you let them. When they ask you for something, you can just say; "Thank you but I will not be doing that. It would be an inconvenience for me right now because I have to focus on ___" or "I would prefer not to do that because I have to do ___ this week and it's very important". Even if it's not anything actually important, still say no. Another example is if you have a friend that's toxic and is not elevating you in any type of way (mentally, emotionally, or finacially). Then tell them that and cut them off. You are not obligated to stay around anyone who brings you down. Here is a list of ways to set boundaries professionally. Also learn to stop over apologizing here is what you can do instead. Margot Robbie learned to say "Thank you" instead of saying "sorry" because of Barbie.

Meditation 🧘🏽‍♀️: A useful skill in embracing your thoughts, whether they are positive or negative, to help in finding your inner zen. Meditation was something that was tricky for me at first. Most people say to "empty your mind and be still" when meditating and for someone with ADHD, I was like... "Umm, this is boring 💀???" but overtime I tried it a few times again and have grown to appreciate it! I learned that meditation was actually quite helpful for me, especially when I felt burdened with too many tasks, or was dealing racing thoughts. It just really helped me calm down, especially when I was feeling overwhelmed (for people who experience sensory overloads I highly recommend!). I no longer feel ashamed or fearful of when a intrusive thought crosses my mind. I just simply let that thought pass through and go on about my day. The average young adult has over 6,000 thoughts a day, so why would I give something so meaningless power? I am in control of myself and what I react to. For this, it will allow you to do the same.

Spend time with a loved one: I'm sure we all have someone who we consider our comfort person or a special pet that makes us feel calm. Humans are animals, sometimes we need that social interaction to stay sane during troubling times. Make a phone call, text, or plan to meet up with a friend or family member this week. Maybe even step out of your comfort zone and ask an acquaintance out for lunch.

Be brave: Remember what I said about stepping out of your comfort zone? That's right. It's time to stop living a life of regrets and live a life of excitement. I want you to think about something you've been really wanting to do lately but haven't pursued it yet because of fear, doubt, or limiting beliefs. Take a deep breath and release it to the universe, your spirit guides, or any deity that you worship. Maybe there is a person you have a crush that you have been wanting to ask out lately or have been wanting to dye your hair a new color but were afraid of how it would turn out. Whatever it is, just have courage to go after what you want for once. For being brave is just about taking a leap of faith, even when you are scared.

How to awaken your inner goddess ✨️:

Loving yourself shouldn't be a chore, it should be a ritual baby 😌! Now for my beginner witches or practioners in closed practices. I know it can be intimidating to start doing deity work. That's why you have to take things slow and go at your own pace. I always recommend starting with doing a cleansing (burning incense, spraying florida water, etc) or a protection spell before doing any other kind of magick. Even though yes, I do worship Aphrodite, it is not neccessary for people to only go to her for a "glow up". There are sooooo many deities who are also gods or goddesses of love, beauty, etc. Naturally, a deity will show you signs that they wish to work with you, so makw sure to be on the look out for that!

Also if you are a woman of color like mwuahhh 😘 then here are a list of deities that also represent love, confidence, beauty, fertility, & creativity in African, Asian, Indigenous, & Pacific Islander religions:

Oshun (closed practice / Yoruba)

Yenaya (closed practice / Yoruba)

Hathor

Bastet

Isis

Astarte

Rati (Hinduism)

Lakshimi (Hinduism)

弁才天 / Benzaiten (Japanese Buddhism)

자청비 / Jacheongbi

仰阿莎 / Yang Asha

Liễu Hạnh

Mayari

Laka

Xochiquetzal

Estsanatlehi

Other deities are:

Apollo, Cupid, Eros, Priapus, Min, Brigid, & Dionyus

There is also ascended masters, saints, archangels, ancestors, & spirit guides that you can connect with. I recommend building a relationship with your ancestors first.

How to talk your deity:

Create an altar for them or a sacred space.

Cleanse the area to avoid interacting with trickster spirits.

Place offerings on the table (make sure to look up what offerings they like!).

Light a candle or burn incense for them.

Write them a letter or pray. You can ask them for help with your specific needs or just talk to them about your day or how you are currently feeling.

BE CONSISTENT! Deities are not one of your little friends, they are gods/goddesses. Show them respect by praying, including them in spellwork, and giving them offerings frequently (they are understanding if you cannot give them food or drinks all the time though if you cannot afford it).

The final boss, The Enchantress 🔮❄️:

"SHADOW MONEY WIZARD GANGGG! We love casting spells 😈"

Alright, alright. I know you guys were reading all this thinking "Bitch where tf is the tutorial??? 😭" BUT WHAT I HAD TO SAY WAS IMPORTANT SO YOU CAN HAVE LONG TERM RESULTS 💀! Here is the moment you've all been waiting forrr 🤭!

101 on Glamour Magick:

The days of the week are connected to the planets.

Friday is a good day for casting love and beauty spells since it's ruler is Venus. While on Monday you can cast spells for healing & enhancing psychic powers, since it's ruler is the Moon. Thursday's ruler is Jupiter so you can cast spells for money and prosperity.

Buy a mirror that is for your special use only (If someone ends up accidently using it it's okay nothing bad will happen to them). Spray it with a window cleaner and wipe it down counter clockwise, say what your intention is for the mirror as you clean it. You can buy any kind of mirror you like (compact mirror, hand held mirror, desktop mirror, etc).

You can use your mirror for scrying or seeing into the future (divination).

When doing your mirror work, look into your eyes, and affirm to yourself. It can be anything you wish to say. Just let it flow naturally. It might feel uncomfortable at first but as you continue to practice it you will feel more confident about it.

Include your deity while affirming. (When I do this, I show appreciation to Aphrodite, and thank her for blessing me with such beauty and grace. Even when in the moment I don't have the results I wish to see, I know it is going to happen because I have faith in her.)

Ask your ancestors what their beauty rituals and regimes were. Doing routines that your ancestors did will create a closer bond with them and also build confidence in your ethnic features.

Items that are represented as love: roses, cinnamon, honey, sugar, vanilla, coriander, basil, chamomile, carnations, tulips, lockets, keys, & hearts

Items that are represented as beauty: cowrie shells, orchids, peony, ribbons, veils, & bows

Items that help enhance intuition: seashells, conch shells, rosemary, lotuses, & feathers

Chinese guashas & jade rollers help reduce stress, tension, and puffiness in your facial muscles. It can also help sculpt your face.

African waistbeads were worn by women under their clothes to help slim their waist and also attract love. Depending on the crystals used, it would also help manifest abundance.

Some beauty crystals used for love, beauty, & intuition are: Rose quartz, jade, pink tourmaline, moonstone, amethyst, selenite, garnet, carnelian, and turquoise.

You can carve sigils or symbols onto your candle, an easy one to use is the venus symbol ♀️.

A list of meanings for the scents of the candle, wax, or deodorizer in your home. Here is the list for incense.

Candles are great to seal your spell jars or use on their own for magick.

A list of different burning sticks you can use (smudging, white sage, and Palo Santo is a closed practice)

The scent of your perfume can be used for seduction or attracting love/popularity.

Soap, shampoo, or conditioner can be used to cleanse your energy.

Ingredients in foods, cleaning, haircare, skincare, or beauty products can have magical properties that you can attract towards you or your home. (I.E: Lavendar for peace & tranquility, Lemon for warding off negative energy, & Vanilla for love)

"The hair theory" trend is a form of glamour magick. Doing your hair differently can create a new persona and change how people perceive you.

Depending on your hair color it can represent the elements.

Your hair texture can symbolize what power you possess: Coily hair grows upward and rises towards the sun. When using their awareness, they are highly observant and courageous. Coily hair has the fire element. Curly hair breaks hexes and spiritually protects the mind. Due to it's volume and resemblance to a cloud, it has the air element. People with wavy hair are intuitive, affectionate, and sensitive, their element is water. Straight hair is the most connected to the earth. People with this hair texture can be introverted, dependable, and grounded.

Your hair length signifies your current state of energy.

Short hair is connected to father sky.

Long hair is connected to mother earth.

It is best to cut your hair when you are in need of releasing stress, anguish, and turmoil.

You can set your intentions into the hair that you braid.

Black people can cornrow patterns or symbols onto their scalp for manifestation.

Locs symbolize freedom and wisdom from the ancestors.

Twists can be used for spiritual binding.

Read here for more on hair witchcraft & hair astrology.

Wearing headscarves, hijabs, bonnets, durags, or hats can protect you from the evil eye or if you're an empath, it can protect your energy from being drained in public spaces.

Do not make any physical changes during a Venus retrograde.

Plastic surgery can alter one's identity. It is like putting on a different mask. It can become an addiction to people who feel lost in life. While for others it can give them a new path to start on.

You can paint sigils or symbols for nail art.

The nail shape you have or get done at a salon can correspond to Onychomancy (https://www.tiktok.com/@taisoleil/video/7035737221068082479?_t=8etXLhtR3LH&_r=1)

You can also use yours or other's eyebrows for divination.

Straight eyebrows: someone who is level headed. Round eyebrows: someone who is compassionate with a kind heart. Arched eyebrows: someone who is independent. Thick eyebrows: someone who can be stubborn and goal oriented. Thin eyebrows: someone who is bold and daring. No eyebrows: someone who is a risk taker and can be careless. The unibrow: symbolizes good luck, fertility, & serendipity.

Your eyelashes are for good luck (which is why people make a wish on fallen lashes, they are similar to dandelions).

Different lash styles can be used as a "barricade".

Manga/spiked lashes: makes you appear pure & innocent, can get away with stuff more. Fluffy lashes: depending on the thickness, it can resemble a spider, therefore can cause someone to have a intensive aura. Cat/hybrid lashes: Increase in clairvoyance, see past the 3D, and have the senses of a feline. Natural lashes: The gaze will be comforting and welcoming to others, they can see into your soul.

Your eye color can mean what powers you have for spells. Colored contacts can create a different outcome.

Glasses can be used for insight and enlightenment. While sunglasses or shades, can make you more mysterious/hide your identity.

For those with periods, cycle syncing can help with increasing productivity.

Depending on your body shape, weight, & features it could symbolize your status in society.

In ancient Greece, people who were voluptuous with plump bellies were seen as healthy & rich. It was a sign of being well fed and treated like royalty.

In Africa & Southeast Asia, long necks signify having dignity & elegance.

Being tall could be seen as powerful, while being short could be seen as delicate. If you are average height, you could be seen as harmonious.

Physiognomy is the method of using the face & body for divination. In China, it is a popular method for readings.

Moles, birthmarks, & skin tags are believed to be the sign of being a Witch.

Vitiligo can mean spiritual purification & finding beauty in your imperfections.

It has been said that freckles are kisses from the angels. These people themselves can be described as earth angels or have a closer connection with archangels.

The form of your freckles can symbolize different things. If they form in a straight line, it could mean you are a focused person. If they are scattered, you like to go with the flow in life. If your freckles come and go during the seasons, you like to experience change or excitement often in your life.

Freckles & beauty marks overall show signs of a person having a unique character.

The clothing you wear can have a mystical effect.

Baggy/layered clothing: spiritually protective. Revealing clothing: free spirited & alluring. Patterned clothing: Makes you illusive or hard to decipher. Animal print clothing: embodies the energy of said animal (I.E: Tiger print would make you appear cunning & fierce). Colorful clothing: your spirit will seem more youthful & vivacious.

The shoes you wear can make you walk into new opportunities unexpectedly.

You can keep a piece of paper that has a spell in your shoes for good luck or attracting your desire.

Buying shoes and watches for your romantic partner is bad luck in hoodoo (Shoes can make someone walk out the door and leave forever. While watches can make someone look at the time they have left with you.)

Earrings can help you hear what others say about you or what gossip is going around. (I heard the most compliments the other day while wearing my gold hoops 💫)

A necklace that has a charm or crystal can be used as a tailsmans, amulet, or pendulum.

Wearing rings on which hand or finger could enhance your abilities.

The same way there is money bowls, you can also make love or beauty bowls, or even use your jewelry box.

You can use color magick when doing your makeup or choosing an outfit.

Primer, lotions/moisturizers, body butters, oils, and gels can be used for sigils.

Foundation is for stability and being secure with yourself.

Concealer "cloaks" or "veils" your weaknesses or insecurities.

Contour makes space and structure for your desire.

Eyeliner can be used as a tool. It wards off negative spirits & people with bad intentions.

In ancient Egypt, the use of Kohl represented rank and achievement.

Mascara can be used to give you a different perspective in things or make you more open minded.

Eyeshadow enhances your eyes & brings more depth or dimension. Makes your gaze hypnotic & enticing like a siren's.

Highlighter shines your best qualities.

Bronzer makes your presence more warm & friendly

Blush is for playfulness, youthfulness, flirtation, and vitality.

The lip product you use can speak your desires into fruition. It also make your words sound more beautiful. People will want to listen more because they will feel attracted to your voice.

Lip gloss: makes your intentions "stick" to you. Lipstick: Leaves a "mark" on your target (especially if it's someone you fancy 💋). Lip stain: makes your words have a permanent effect on people, they won't forget you. Flavored lip balms: makes your kisses addicting.

Powder enhances your spell & adds a touch of good luck.

Setting spray finishes the spell.

528 Hz is the frequency of love.

Listening to frequencies, music, & subliminals can attract your desires.

You can make a playlist for your deity or ancestors to channel messages from them.

Here are some celebrities who used mirror work or glamour magick to manifest:

Beyoncé's Renaissance album has themes of having a good self concept, knowing your worth, manifesting self love & abundance.

Marilyn Monroe used visualization & affirmations to manifest her beauty and fame: “I daydreamed chiefly about beauty. I dreamed of myself becoming so beautiful that people would turn to look at me when I passed.”

Michael Jackson would keep sticky notes and a diary full of affirmations in his room by his mirror: “I'm beautiful (4x). I'm gorgeous. [Bad..?] Is for me, who can be against me? I'm beautiful. I'm a new person now. Beautiful, knowing the secret, and determined with fire[?] to move mountains in all I do. Molding my own world. I'm beautiful. The old me is behind. I will much ahead anew. - MJ”

Alexa Demie stated in a interview with Vogue that she would say affirmations in the mirror daily in the morning and it helped her manifest clear skin: “I have beautiful, clear, acne-free, scar-free skin.”

Princess Nokia is a bruja and is well known for her constant change in appearance: “Casting spells with my cousins / I'm the head of this coven / I'm a shapeshifting bitch, you don't know who you loving.”

Thanks so much for reading, I wish you all the best of luck on your journey 🤍🤍🤍

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 2

Read Ding here | ~6.2 k words

WARNING/spoiler there's a scummy guy in this part that tries to be forceful with our MC to go with him back to his place when she doesn't want to. Nothing will happen and nothing will be described in detail but be kind to your mind and heart ♥, trauma, anxiety, pining, and fluff.

From me: I actually know VERY little about boxing and even less about throwing a punch. I do however feel I'm well-versed in sprinkles so do with that what you will. Some parts of this got a little away from me again. I hope you like it 💕

Summary: Harry and Cupcake are both really busy and haven't seen each other in two months. But when Cupcake gets into trouble, she has no choice but to run into Harry.

Harry learned to fight when he was ten years old. He didn’t have his dad around much to teach him. Mum and Gemma may as well have been pacifists and as such, they weren’t much help when it came to defending himself. Harry watched his little girl friends get teased by boys. The same boys that told him he was weird for liking girls when they had cooties. Even if he didn’t (always) like them like that and was just merely defending them. Mum and Gemma may have been pacifists, but they taught Harry to be a respectful young boy. Especially toward girls.

One too many mouthfuls of sand at recess was enough to make him finally do something about it. He was angry. Angry because the girls didn’t like him because he was a boy (although they tolerated him since he was protecting them). Angry none of the boys in his class wanted to be friends with him because he was being nice to girls filled with cooties. Angry that he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to be a boy’s boy.

For a ten-year-old, he was really angry.

Mum took him to a gym—an introductory class to kickboxing. Just to get some of his anger out in an appropriate manner (and so he wouldn’t be sent to the principal’s office during recess again). Harry took a liking to the punching bag. He cried the first time he used it with the help of an older kid who was helping him learn to punch the right way. The poor teen watching him get so frustrated that his punches and kicks weren’t landing right—even though it was his very first time throwing a punch—saw something in him. Alerted his boss, encouraged Harry, worked with Harry every time he came in. He was a great mentor and even though he left only a couple years after meeting Harry to go to university and all that, Harry was forever grateful.

His first amateur match was at fifteen. Then there were only ten rounds at most, and he won by a landslide in five. By then he met Louis—someone who saw the same thing that teen kid saw in him and offered to be his manager. It wasn’t anything serious at the time. Harry was still in school and only using his time after school to get better at boxing. Louis was only a few years ahead but knew enough to help him be great.

By the time he turned eighteen, he had won three state-titles and people were watching him. At least in a way that those who cared about boxing did. Throughout university he trained and got better and won more and more.

Now Harry was twenty-five. He had to be nearing at least a hundred thousand punches since he was ten—eitherthrowing them at someone or at least in training against the punching bag he loved so much. Maybe more. He couldn’t even begin to think or count how he would figure out that number. Harry’s whole life was training, working, and fighting.

The only joys he had outside of boxing were his car and the sweet little niece that Gemma had kindly brought into his life—but that was only a recent change.

Only one other very recent change had left him a bit tongue-tied and flustered. Harry didn’t get flustered. Not since he was ten and knew he could beat the crap out of someone. There was no ringing bell to prepare him to make eye contact with a complete stranger and just feel like he had never ever felt before.

Was it love? Who could say, really. Harry had never loved anyone in his life that wasn’t his family or his friends. It made his stomach flutter like the first time he fought in a ring for something other than a trophy. A mere two hundred dollars on the line, all to get punched a whole bunch of times. Now he was still getting punched a few times over for a decent amount of money, but the thought of that pretty girl and her sprinkles made him unbelievably excited. Knowing she was there really made him feel different.

He knew next to nothing about her, but he was certain he was going to fall for her given half a chance. Even if she gave him a half a chance—a quarter!—he would do everything he could to have her in his life. If anyone else had damaged his car, he might have lost his shit, but there was something about her kind face, her doe-eyed expression in the rainy lamplight that made him rethink his entire life in the span of twenty seconds.

But whatever it was that he felt for her, he knew it started with her ringside. Beside his best friend waiting for the end of the fight that never seemed to end.

Normally, Harry’s matches finished in an average of nine rounds. But he was seated in the corner, sipping water like a hamster from the bottle, while Louis put Vaseline on his face where the cut on his eyebrow split between the tenth and the eleventh. “How you doing?”

“Is she impressed?” He asked.

“Who?”

“Cupcake. She’s sitting next t’Niall,” he was breathing heavy. Good as he was, it took a lot of energy to punch someone for a half hour as it was.

“Who?” Louis repeated, then thought better of it. He shook his head in frustration. “Can you focus on what you’re doing, Harold?!”

Louis didn’t get it. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. To be fair, she was probably the reason it was taking longer than normal. Not that he minded. As long as she was impressed by the end, of course. Harry was on his feet, shadowboxing briefly with Louis, that boyish smile on his face. “What the fuck is your issue?” Louis hissed at him. “You’re acting like a lunatic!”

It seemed like a cliché to say he was in love, so he refrained from doing so. He felt it spared Louis further frustration as well. Cupcake, Cupcake, Cupcake. It was the only thing his brain could think. Fortunately, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next round and knocked a bit of the sense back in his head that had floated away from him on the thoughts of the pretty girl nearby.

His opponent was just as tired (although Harry believed his opponent was more so) as himself. He could see the exhaustion setting in as he held his gloves up near his face blocking a few jabs Harry threw to get the excitement of the new round going. He was waiting, searching, nearly taunting for a window of opportunity. Right as his opponent swung aiming for his face, Harry dodged his punch; smirking as he did. A blinding weak spot, his guard was down for only a fraction of a second but that was all Harry needed.

Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

Ding.

*

Harry looked like he was going to fall asleep sitting there in the bakery kitchen. He was a bit cut up; his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth, and his cheekbone had little cuts. Soothed with Vaseline, but it didn’t seem to bother him. His eyes were droopy. “Is Niall still around to drive you home?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I can drive,” he murmured.

He wasn’t really looking at her, but her look and tone screamed skeptical. “You look too tired to drive.”

“Mm,” he hummed. She was busy bustling back and forth through the kitchen. Cupcakes were in the oven. She only made a dozen, but Harry didn’t seem to notice it was a small amount. He was sitting at the big table in the middle of the kitchen. A seat dragged in from the office. She had her laptop open in her office running the report she needed while Harry held his head propped in one hand. She busied herself with prepping dough for scones and pastries while Harry tried not to loll off to sleep. She smirked at him.

“I could call you an Uber if you wanted,” she offered. “You don’t need to stay with me.”

His eyes were hardly open. “I’ll get a second wind in a minute,” he yawned. “S’jus’ the adrenaline wearing off,” he explained.

“Does that hurt?” She asked gesturing to the cuts on his (otherwise really perfect) face.

He shook his head. “Stings a little.”

“Will you be sore tomorrow?”

“A little. Stiff really... Why y’want t’give me a massage, kitten?” He smiled flirtatiously. Maybe she should have felt uncomfortable, alone with a man she only just met. But honestly, she thought Niall might be her new best friend and if Niall could vouch for Harry, then she wasn’t all that worried about him. Regardless of him knocking out his opponent with one punch. Truthfully, it was nice of her to walk her to the bakery. It was later than she expected and while the town they lived in was pretty safe, the college safety tips of never walking alone flooded her mind each time she did walk alone. She blushed at his forward assumption, but fortunately she was prepping something and stuffing it in the fridge, so he didn’t get to see. Plus, his exhaustion probably made him even flirtier.

“Thanks for being m’good luck charm, Cupcake,” he murmured sleepily.

“I didn’t know you didn’t need one.”

“Can never have too much luck.”

She smiled, continuing her prepping quietly. Harry watched her for a while. Eventually, his arm dropped to the table, and he rested his head on it. After another moment, a soft snore escaped his lips, and she smiled a little brighter. Only for herself, really, since Harry was asleep. She continued working. She was used to late nights. Maybe he really was going to get a second wind—honestly, she couldn’t imagine boxing and punching someone for almost forty-five minutes with only one-minute breaks in between rounds. Sometimes while she was baking, she would try to do other tasks while the timer counted down to take the treats out of the oven. It always surprised her how long and how short a minute could feel in the same breath.

But while she worked, she was mindful to not make too many loud noises. Harry needed sleep it seemed. She prepped for nearly an hour while waiting for the cupcakes to cool long enough to scoop out the middle and fed the sugary raspberry filling into the empty space. Frosting a dozen cupcakes took all but ten minutes then she packaged them in two half-dozen plastic containers with A Pinch of Sprinkles label taping it shut. Gently, she put her hand on his upper arm, and she really shouldn’t have been so surprised by how taut his bicep was beneath her hand, but she was. He was unbelievably strong, and she was in slight awe and shock of touching him—and he wasn’t even flexing. But rather than be creepy, she gave him a gentle shake. “Hey, Harry... Uh...it’s late. I’m gonna get going,” her voice was soft.

Harry startled almost jumping out of his seat and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Sorry, sorry. Wow,” he turned his neck to the left and then right. “M’sorry I dozed off there.”

She shrugged. “Probably needed it,” she assured him with a gentle smile. She pushed the dozen cupcakes forward, across the table. “For you.”

He blinked then looked up at her. “Did you make these for—”

“Well, yes, I made them. You were unbelievably kind to me even though I dented Clay. Plus, you won so it’s like a job well done, you know?”

“You made me cupcakes,” he repeated, his gaze unmoving from her face.

“We really need to work out this whole repeating what the other one says thing,” she felt her cheeks warm as he stared at her, but she smiled, only feeling slightly awkward.

He turned his attention to the two plastic boxes and tilted his head at them. They were identical. His fascination with her precision was immense. “What kind are they?”

“The raspberry filled ones. You said you liked them.”

His gaze went right back to her, and he felt hungry, but not for cupcakes.

Well, at least not the baked good kind of cupcake.

“Thank you, Cupcake. That was sweet of you. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Her smile seemed to transcend to a feeling of relief. “Not even a little...um... I just have to grab a couple things. Would you... mind walking me to my car? Unless you need to leave right now. I know it’s crazy late. I’ll be okay. I walk to my car on my own usually but it’s always a little creepy. But I feel bad I made you—”

“’Course m’gonna walk you t’your car,” he rolled his eyes. “Besides I don’t want you t’ding Clay again,” he winked to ensure she knew he was kidding. Because yes, he loved his car.

But rapidly, when it came to her, the car didn’t matter in the slightest.

*

She hadn’t seen Harry in two months.

It wasn’t like she was avoiding him. Part of her knew he was a mere social media friend request away. In fact, she was trying her hardest to not stare at the pictures of him on social media, the PR plug for his matches, and all the things that she saw Niall, Louis, and all his other friends shared. But she didn’t want to come off too forward. It seemed weird to be so into a man she only talked to for no longer than ten minutes total.

Besides...she had her routines. Work, family, and more work.

Also, if Harry was really infatuated with her the way Niall alluded to, he knew where her bakery was—he easily could come and find her here. But she did notice there was a tag to her shop on Instagram with raspberry filled cupcakes in the picture. (All it would take is for her to press the Follow button and wait.) While she didn’t know Harry all that well, she assumed he was probably just as busy. Her brief cyber-stalking showed that Harry was often at the gym—although she wasn’t sure which one. He was also an amazing uncle. That much was clear. It warmed her heart, and she would never want to tear Harry away from that kind of time. Family was extremely important to her. She wholeheartedly understood how much his free time was probably monopolized by the little baby.

But it was so strange that she didn’t know him yet there was some part of her that wanted to see him. It was bizarre. She never got all up and arms about a guy. There was work and there was her family. That was it. That was all she could afford to balance. She didn’t need a guy to mess with her routines or upset the balance of her life.

However, every time she walked alone to her car at night now, she wished that Harry was with her to assure her safety—even though she had done it hundreds of times before. The night they met, he walked her in silence, opened her door and made sure she was safely tucked inside. “Good night, Cupcake,” he smiled almost dreamily.

“Good night, Harry. Congratulations,” she responded with a smile too.

Harry’s smile grew and he looked away briefly before patted the top of her car and turned to Clay, put his cupcakes on the passenger seat and moved to the driver’s side. He gave her a wave and pulled out of his parking spot.

It was two months ago.

But after just one month, it was hard to deny she didn’t miss him.

That had to mean something. Just one brief night—not even a date. Most of that night was spent with Harry in the ring or asleep at her kitchen table. Hell, she got to know Niall more that night. But it was Harry’s smile that plagued her thought—crooked and perfect. The way his eyes glittered as he convinced her to follow him with a picture of his niece.

“Are you baking something in here or burning in here?” Maeve asked.

Maeve was her best employee—her right hand nearly every day. More importantly, her best friend. Shaking her head of the thoughts surrounding Harry, she sighed and turned to the oven where her fudge brownies were surely overdone. “Shit,” she whispered.

“I don’t think you’ve ever burned anything. Are you okay?” Maeve asked gently. It was a loaded question. It took a lot of time to dig the answer out of her friend, but Maeve did. She knew asking if she was okay was probably the wrong thing to say.

But if it was, she didn’t mind. Of course she didn’t. Her very best friend was sweeter than all the treats in the display case. “Just a little distracted,” she mumbled grabbing the tray and setting it in the sink to cool off (and hopefully so she didn’t have to scrape the bottom of the tray later).

“Harry on your brain?” Maeve giggled.

She rolled her eyes but felt the way her cheeks warmed at Maeve’s (correct) assumption. Maeve was shocked to learn that her strong-willed friend was convinced by a stranger to go see a boxing match. She couldn’t believe it. Granted, once she saw the picture of Harry, she couldn’t disagree. I think I would let him punch me in the face if he wanted to.

She decided keeping Maeve as far away from Harry as possible was probably necessary.

Rarely did she and Maeve work together. As her best employee and best friend, it was like asking her to hold her child when Maeve was on shift. There was no one she trusted more. So, when Maeve wasn’t there, she often was and vice versa. But every so often, usually at the shift change, Maeve got to see her best friend in her element. “Well, the good news is, you can go think of him at home,” she winked at her.

She didn’t even look at her. “You’re disgusting,” she deadpanned.

Maeve snorted. “That’s not even what I was insinuating. Your mind went directly to the gutter. Good for you. I bet he thinks about you while he’s doing it too.”

“Jesus Christ,” she was blushing brightly now. “I just want to fix the display case and then I’ll go.”

“Any fun plans for tonight?”

She hesitated briefly. “Uh yeah...actually. I have a date,” she mumbled.

“Oh!” It was silent for a long beat. Rarely did she go on dates. There were only a few since she moved into town three years ago. Mostly because the bakery took up so much of her free time. The remaining bit of time she had and didn’t go on dates was because of the guilt she felt. Maeve’s surprise was palpable. It made her cheeks turn pink and she bit the inside of her cheek. “Good,” Maeve smiled encouragingly. “Online?” She asked.

She nodded. “We’ve been messaging back and forth for like...” she shrugged. “Two weeks.”

“Are you excited?”

No. “Yes,” she sighed softly. “Been a while,” she smirked. There was a huge part of her brain that told her she didn’t want to go because it wasn’t Harry. It was like a neon sign had been posted in her frontal lobe reminding her that it was pointless to even consider this date. She should have just requested to follow Harry and be done with it—he would probably drop everything if she asked him on a date. “Just...nervous.”

“It’ll be good!” Maeve said reassuringly. “Share your location with me and text me when you get to where you’re sleeping,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“I will be sleeping at home,” she promised snorting through her laugh at her best friend.

Maeve smiled heading to the front and leaving her to finish with her burned brownies.

*

The front of the bakery was dark in color; she was aiming for warmth. The floors and baseboards were dark walnut brown. It contrasted sharply with the wall she wall-papered by hand with a white and brown marble pattern behind the display cases. It made the black chalkboard menus with the same walnut brown frames stand out. The lights were always set to dim when they were on. Her goal was to recreate the feeling of her childhood home—particularly the den where her father set up the most beautiful Christmases. The bakery lacked a fireplace (she joked with Maeve that it was an oven or a fireplace, and the oven did a better job at cooking croissants evenly).

The front of the bakery wasn’t massive. There were five little tables to sit and enjoy their treats if people wanted but it was really a grab and go kind of place. The back had more treats stored so the main room didn’t look overwhelming. The front display cases still contained more treats than anyone could think of eating. I wish I could buy one of everything was heard frequently from the line. Eventually she wanted to invest in coffee but for the time being she liked just her treats and was happy to recommend the coffee place down the road. If she ever got a hold of more space, then she would consider buying all the machines for coffee.

The bakery was honestly warmest when it was rainy. Which was frequent. She was reorganizing the main cupcake display, a tower of three tiers with one of each type of cupcake she made. The raspberry filled cupcake was the one that had been on top for the last two months. Each time it was bought, she replaced it with another. While people raved about her brownies, cakes, and even the croissants, it was the cupcakes that people came for; and so, she took care of the display as much as possible.

“Which one do you recommend?” She turned to the voice and saw a mom and little girl waiting patiently. She smiled fondly.

“Raspberry filled,” she pulled it from the top tier and handed it over. “Try it,” she offered.

“Oh, we don’t want to get you in trouble,” the mom said quickly while her daughter grabbed for it almost immediately.

She laughed. “Don’t worry, I know the owner,” she promised. “Maeve! I’m leaving!” She called but was delighted by the little girl’s approval. Silence, cake and filling on her cheeks immediately, and a delightful look in her eye.

“Have fun!” She called back.

“Enjoy the cupcakes. I also like the lemon vanilla ones.”

“I think raspberry filled is the winner,” the mom smiled.

She nodded, unable to keep herself from grinning back. “A fan favorite.”

*

She should have stayed home. The bad weather should have been an omen. But maybe it wouldn’t have been because she met Harry in bad weather, and everything was fine that night. It soured her mood and made her feel infinitely worse to think about the comparison.

I’m home. Not a great date. I’ll tell you later. She wished she had gone to Maeve’s. Maybe she would have doted on her. But she didn’t want to fall apart the way she planned on in front of her.

:( sorry babe. Sleep tight. Talk to you tomorrow :(

She locked her apartment door and checked at least fifty times that it was truly locked before she moved to her bathroom. Her heart was still in her throat and her eyes felt raw with tears. Maybe she was overreacting.

No.

The rational part of her brain reasoned against her handwaving casualness. She had good instincts. Obviously. If this same situation happened with Harry, then maybe she would have considered it her own poor judgment. It was more reason that someone as terrifying as Harry could have be sweet as her cupcakes that it was her good judgment that helped her get out of there tonight.

She hurried to get out of her clothes. Part of her considered throwing them away. She didn’t want them any longer. She wasn’t sure she would ever wear them again. She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and pushed it a little further.

He didn’t hurt her physically. He tried. It was obvious his intent was to force her into the car... or worse. Which was disgusting in its own right. Until that moment in the dark, rainy parking lot, it was almost identical to her moment with Harry. But it wasn’t. Harry didn’t make her feel unsafe. Harry didn’t make her feel threatened. Harry gave her an out even though he wanted to hang out with her. She knew she could leave at any moment and Harry wouldn’t have blamed her.

She rubbed her arm so hard with her loofa in the shower stream it burned for a new reason. Tears blurred her vision and she felt so stupid. So completely idiotic. How could she let it get that far? That was so dangerous. So close she could have been hurt in so many ways that she didn’t want to think about, ever again. She closed her eyes and let the water wash the night away, feeling completely alone and dreadful.

She never wanted to date again.

*

She finished her shower, sniffles plaguing her, and she got into her comfiest pajamas. Her heart was still beating too fast as she crawled under the covers. She felt so ashamed. It felt like her fault. All of it.

There was a tiny rattling in her brain that Harry could have prevented it all. She should have just requested Harry on social media when she met him. If she had, she would have had his number by then. He would have helped her for sure.

Without thinking, she scrolled on her apps, and clicked on the various follow buttons. Every platform she could think of to request his social media friendship—looking like a lunatic be damned. Almost everything had a phone call button now, she could use it as backup if she needed. For good measure she requested Niall too. It was nearing midnight, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was scared. Nervous. Heartbroken.

Yet, within moments, Harry returned the request along with a direct message in her inbox.

Thinking of me at midnight, hmm?  😉

She snorted despite her uneasiness. One sentence and she melted. But she couldn’t let him know that. 🙄 it was nice while it lasted. Just going to unfollow you...

Aw, c’mon Cupcake 🙁

Oh alright... No, not really... just can’t sleep. Popped up on my people you may know while scrolling. It wasn’t a complete lie, and she was glad she wasn’t having a phone call. He would have heard her sniffles and then she wasn’t sure she would have been able to stop herself from inviting a total stranger over. Right now, she didn’t trust her judgment fully.

Been dying to press that Follow button, Cupcake. Didn’t want to come on too strong after that first night.

She couldn’t help but smile. The contrast between the night she met Harry, and her present night made her sad but relieved at the same time. I see you enjoyed the cupcakes.

Louis made me run laps for two hours because of you. I ate all twelve in less than 72 hours. Do you put drugs in those? They’re addicting.

Lol, no drugs. Well... sugar. So, pick your poison I guess, right? 😇

Well, thank you, Cupcake. That was delicious. I hope you liked the match too. We didn’t get to talk much. I know I fell asleep 🤦‍♂️ I was really happy you were there.

Her heart felt so warm already. Despite how much she didn’t want it to. Thank you for inviting me. Because she was nothing if not polite. It was really exciting! I don’t know much about boxing. But it’s obvious you’re very good—not that you need me to tell you that. Were you really going to make me look like an idiot and not tell me you were undefeated?

You’ll make me blush, Cupcake. Didn’t think you’d come with me if you knew.

Sneaky... 👀

Just... wanted you there, kitten. I promise. Nothing more... I know I came off a little too strong and I know I was a little...pushy. I would have let you go to your store if you really wanted to... But...

The three dots on his message disappeared and reappeared a few times over.It was cute to imagine him holding his phone thinking about what to type, erasing it, typing it again.

I can’t explain it, Cupcake. I’ve been going CRAZY these last two months. Niall’s calling me a stalker and I haven’t even SEEN you. The sentiment doesn’t give her any bad feelings. Because despite how much she wanted to be guarded, especially after her evening, she couldn’t help but believe him. Trust him, implicitly.

I swear something in the universe pulled me to you... I woke up just in time to see you blowing up my phone tonight 😍😍

She snorted and felt her body warm with his kindness, his gentle adoration through her phone no less. You’re insane, Harry Styles.

About you 😍

Oh my God... Now she really was blushing, but she couldn’t help but notice she felt so much better chatting with him. Well... we can talk tomorrow if you want.

Oh?

I’m assuming you’re tired and I’ve already hogged more than enough of your time at midnight, as you pointed out.

Oh, no.

No way, Cupcake. I’ll stay up all night to talk with you ❤

Her heart felt so heavy. It was unfair. How could she be so stupid? Her dad would have killed her for being so naïve. It was his worst fear while she was growing up. It was everything he always talked her through when she was going through puberty and telling her about boys teasing her. Her dad reminded her constantly that a man has no right to make her feel scared or fragile.

But she could feel his grip on her arm trying to coerce her back into his car. She shook her head of the thoughts, refusing to let him poison any more of her time than he had. She was talking to Harry. She was okay. It was alright. It didn’t happen. She got in an Uber, and she’ll never see him again.

Harry was talking to her. Harry made her feel safe. Harry didn’t make her stomach unsettled with a bad gut feeling. Here’s my phone number if you want it.

Within moments, she had a new text message alert. This is better than an undefeated record 😍

*

The following morning, she felt less terrible about herself and her stupidity, but she never wanted to feel that way again. She was also so tired from texting with Harry for hours. It was nearly three in the morning catching up on all the things he did in the past two months before she wished him a good night. There wasn’t much to report about their lives. They both seemed to be workaholics, but he did offer her some really cute baby pictures of his niece (and a pretty cute picture of Niall falling asleep on Harry’s couch after an intense workout).

While she sipped her coffee—staving off the sleepiness, she Googled self-defense classes. Her dad would have approved. He wanted her to do it back when she was in college, but she refused for whatever reason. She regretted that too.

It was telling that she debated whether she was overreacting for several minutes. If she was overreacting, she would have brushed off the idea of self-defense classes like she did in college. But this wasn’t something to overreact about, right? Before she could overthink it any longer, she paid for the class. Honestly, in that parking lot she was smart to do this. Worst case scenario, for one reason or another, it was the smart decision.

She cycled through the next stage of grief feeling angry and bitter that he made her feel this way. She was incredibly lucky it was raining and slippery and she managed to get away from him in the chilly spring air. He left her so rattled. She was defenseless, so a class was needed.

God, she missed her dad.

Fuck, she missed Harry.

She never wanted to feel that helpless again.

With the class paid for, she put an apron around her waist and headed to the front of A Pinch of Sprinkles and turned the closed sign to open.

*

The following Monday, after a full day of flour, sugar, and plenty of customers, she headed to the gym.

It felt awkward. She hadn’t been to a gym since her college days, and she was already frustrated from her horrific night out. She and Maeve told each other they would go together but they were terrible influences on one another and opted for shopping trips with the promise they would pretend their shopping bags were dumbbells.

When she arrived, she headed to the front desk and introduced herself. She even admitted she felt awkward and the woman behind the desk smiled encouragingly. “I’m Sarah. Let me show you around,” she came from behind the desk and headed toward the side room. “It’s safe here,” she assured her, like she knew. The assurance made her throat tight with emotion and she nodded stoically. “This is the locker room; you can change in here and you can leave your stuff locked up or in the front cubbies and I can watch it. Whatever makes you more comfortable,” she smiled kindly and glanced her up and down briefly. “Do you own that bakery downtown?”

She smiled and nodded, looking at the flour handprint on the thigh of her pants. “Thought I got all the flour off,” she brushed at it with a chuckle. “Yes, I do.”

“My husband is going to think I met a celebrity today,” she laughed. “We love your blueberry scones. They taste like heaven.”

“Aw, thank you so much, that’s so kind. I’ll bring some next time,” she promised.

“Oh stop, I’ll divorce him,” she laughed and headed back for the front desk.

She quickly changed, feeling safe and relieved once more. She brought her belongings to the front and sat in one of the seats across from Sarah’s desk. “Kickboxing is just wrapping up and your instructors will be right over,” there was a group of several other women milling about. Obviously, they at least knew how to be in a gym by themselves. A few came as a small group. Maybe she should have brought Maeve.

While waiting, she scrolled through emails from her landlord, her college alma mater group, and all the coupons she had ever subscribed to. “I have got to unsubscribe,” she murmured to herself. She scrolled through photos of the beautiful little area she lived in now, and as sad as it was to get here, it was nice. Her shop was nice. Despite how scared she was over the weekend, things were good.

The only thing that wasn’t nice was that stupid, awful man.

“Holy shit, he’s hot,” she heard someone whisper. It was peripheral. She didn’t even register it really because she was sending Maeve a picture of the sale that was happening at their favorite clothing store on Thursday. If she paid attention, she might have noticed sooner.

“Ladies, self-defense class, this way please!” The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Maeve sent about ten heart eyes to her, and she smiled, stuffed her phone in her bag, and waved to Sarah.

“Blueberry scones,” she repeated with a firm nod and followed the line of women. She sipped from her water taking in the banners around the gym and realized too late why Louis’ voice sounded so familiar.

He stood at the front of the room, along with another familiar face.

“Oh shit,” she whispered to herself and turned immediately back toward the desk.

She bumped into another woman who steadied her and kindly looked her over. “Sorry—are you alright?” she was nearly motherly in her demeanor and her head felt woozy. She couldn’t do this. Harry would know.

Why was Harry attending her self-defense class?

“Yes, yes, sorry,” she shook her head. “Wrong—”

“Hey,” Harry’s voice was right there. She stepped out of the room trying to get more air to her lungs and head.He wasn’t attending. He was teaching. This was his gym. The boxing rings in the main room should have been a clue. The sound of Louis’ voice. Oh, you stupid idiot, her brain scolded.

“Cupcake?” Her head responded to the nickname instinctively. Harry’s suspicious green eyes gazed back at her. “What are you doing here?”

--

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[certainlynotasimp]

Our Love

(Miguel O’Hara x Female Reader)

A/N: Hey everyone~✨ I’m writing this request thingy after I um had kind of a bad day. Not to get too personal, um parents can suck. Like they can hurt your feelings and not care. So I wanted to write this because I kinda wish that I had parents like Sunny and Miggy tbh. Anyway enough with that~✨

A/N: TikTok spoiled some of the movie for me so I’m kinda mad but I got to think up some more Sunny lore for you guys. This is part 2 of Our Girl and forgive the ending because I ran out of ideas. If you like my work please check out my master list and if you wanna stay up to date with the series, then comment on this Taglist and you’ll be added. To see what’s coming up next then check out my upload schedule.✨

If you are someone who has struggled with Postpartum, Child loss, anxiety with pregnancy, or any trauma related to child birth and child bearing, feel free to skip this if you don’t think you can handle it. Your well being is more important, so go read some fluff, drink some water, and if you don’t have anyone giving you kisses then here: *platonic kisses*

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Female Reader/Female pronouns, Barely use of (Y/N) ((Sunny is their nickname, not their name)), angst, trauma, mentions of child loss, anxiety around pregnancy, and Google Translated Spanish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bouncing fear blooms as the repeating drumming of her pacing feet in the confined walls of the bathroom stall. The constant nagging of her god mother comes back to haunt her like the remains of her muffin tries to climb it’s way back up.

The three minute timer on her phone felt like an eternity as the white piece of plastic continues to load up the bullet that will end everything she’s built up for herself so far.

She was head of the undergraduate at her biology department at NYU and she had stupidly decided to go out to some party with her friends to celebrate the end of the school year. An embarrassing hook-up occurred with her having to sneak out without even getting a good look at the guy. Of course she assumed that her drunken self would have used protection, but unfortunately, alcohol doesn’t always encourage good decisions.

She thought that the sudden spouts of tossing her lunch up was simply due to nerves as she was applying for a work study program with Alchnemax, but the sudden repulsion to her god mother’s cooking is what really set the dread into motion. A dread she swallowed down with a big smile as she pretended her whole life wasn’t changing in an instant. She held onto the hope that maybe it was just nerves bothering her until today.

Her interview with Alchnemax went exceptionally well. The woman was aware that her chances of being accepted were low despite her high academic achievements due to A) she’s a scholarship student, B) she’s some poor kid from Brooklyn, and C) she was an orphan without any cushy family legacy behind her.

Two of the three department leaders of the Genetics department already decided her fate as they had those noses turned up at her, but one just looked at her with kindness. He gave her a chance. And if it wasn’t for that the others wouldn’t have heard her creditials and wouldn’t have looked at her completely impressed. The man who looked at her so proudly gave her a wink as a way of showing he was sure I was gonna get it. Not in the creepy sexually charged man way. But like how a father would their child.

Her first friend here. Dr..

The beeping from the phone alarm catches her attention as she turns to look at the white stick of destiny. Her whole life is forever changing today one way or another….

~~~~~~~~~

“I’m what?” She gasps as she looks up at the red and blue man in a lab coat in shock.

She had just awoken hours after she had experienced the most bizarre incident that landed her in the infirmary. She had met a girl from an alternate dimension where she and Miguel were normal people who had a family together, and their daughter was that universe’s Spider-Woman.

Their Daughter…their baby…

“You’re pregnant, Miss. (L/N).” Spider-Doc says cheerfully as he places a cold device on her stomach. A monitor appears from the small device with a familiar picture of a small little bean inside the black vast of her womb. A baby…

“It looks like you’re about 6 weeks along based on the size of the fetus and it’s a good thing we found out when we did. Mr. O’Hara would have had our throats if he….”

The doctor’s words fell on deaf ears as the woman’s eyes focused intently on the image in front of her. The sounds of their pounding heart beat challenges the drumming of her own as her fingers lightly trace the image. She was so small…so defenseless.

Just like he was…

“D-does Miguel know?”

~~~~~~~

Positive.

The test mocked her as she watched her Godmother hold onto the plastic piece with an unreadable expression. The twist of her dark mauve painted lips causes her glowy skin to crack under her dark eyes. A hand pushes back the freshly installed knotless braids as the clinking of the golden charms twisted her stomach more.

April was the one person the girl could always rely on the most in the world, having raised her since she was eight years old. She was the only real mother figure she’s ever known and always pushed her to her hardest. April always made sure that the two were always fed, clothed, and pampered, and the only thing she ever asked for was for her godchild to bring home all A’s and to have a smile.

April taught her to value education both in and out of school. She made sure she could solve any math problems as best as she could without a calculator and how to make sure to know which doors she can knock on if someone was following her at night. April made sure she knew her Spanish well so she can have bigger opportunities in the workforce and to know respect for the Parra’s down the hallway.

April had a baby the same time as her best friend Maria and promised each other to be each other’s godmothers so their daughters can always be best friends just like their moms.

But, Maria lost her life while April lost her baby.

“How far along are you?” The older woman asks with her dark warm eyes misting over as she looks at her god child.

“I don’t know, maybe a month and a half…” The own girl’s body shaking as sobs built up in her chest as she looks at her now smiling godmother.

“Do you want to keep it?…”

The question hung in the air as the women’s combined shaking forms as the woman honestly didn’t think about it before.

~~~~~~~~~

When the spider got released from the infirmary, she immediately turned off her gizmo as she turned invisible. She shakily avoided everyone she could so she could go to her room without seeing anyone.

She couldn’t bring herself to see anyone. Not with this. She knew if Miguel wasn’t on a mission right now then he would have already been at the infirmary waiting on her, but she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes. It wasn’t fair.

One of her hands rests on her stomach as she navigates the hallways before finally reaching her room. She waited until no one was paying attention to slip in and turn back to normal with a painful sigh. She forgot how painful it was to do that without her suit helping her. Miguel specifically made it so her powers wouldn’t put as much strain on her heart than it already did.

Her back hits the door as she finally collapses with a shaker breath. The reality of the situation was finally kicking in as she placed both hands on her stomach. She was pregnant with Miguel’s child.

Something that definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. Sure, she can argue that if the anomalous event hadn’t have occurred and destroyed her dimension , she would have never known about the Spider Verse or even met Miguel…

But she’s accepted that whatever relationship they were in wasn’t going to be able to manifest more than what it was. Two broken people who fell in love and were trying to make the best of their circumstances.

Due to her being from an alternate dimension, there isn’t a canon event that could possibly let her be able to live with Miguel and start a family…it would just destroy every thing…

‘Would Miguel even want this baby?…’ She though as she runs one of her shaking hands over her cheek as anxious tears rolled down her face. ‘What if she has powers like us? What if they aren’t healthy? Would he want to get rid of it because she’s an anomaly….’

She didn’t have the same support system as she did when she had her son, Ben. She didn’t have April who would sooth her anxieties of motherhood and made sure that Ben had diapers at home. She didn’t have the Parra’s who would bring her supper some evenings in exchange for letting the infertile Valeria babysit her boy when her and April were busy. She didn’t have the corner stores where they always hid back some cans of formula for her and gave her son lollipops.

Her son…her baby boy that she failed…

The image of his lifeless little body appears in her vision as she remembers the way his body was limp in her hold. The way his little face was so frozen in fear when he used to always have the biggest smile on his face…

“What if I fail this one too?”

Her thoughts cause sobs to rip from her body as she curls her knees up to her chest as she thought about all of the possibilities that this baby would ruin it…

Then Maria’s face came to mind. The young spider girl that was only a few years younger than she was when she found out she was gonna have Ben.

With the girl’s face burning in her mind, the woman stands up and immediately storms out of her room. Her blurry eyes burned as she made her way to the one place that she knew would have answers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ba dump ba dump

The pounding sound fills the room as the pair of women stared in awe at the monitor. A little squirming being about the size of her hands shined against the black background of the screen as the OB-GYN wiggles around the cold wand over her stomach.

“Oh my…” A teary smile appears on the older woman’s face as April clenches onto her astonished Goddaughter’s hand. The 14 week old fetus was facing the camera as his little legs wiggled around enough to barely turn him over.

His mother stares at him with such wonder as to how she could have made that.

She knew the whole biological process of how it’s down and what to expect at each step, but just seeing him there, barely even big enough to see him, was her baby.

“There he is. A perfectly healthy baby boy.” The OB smiles at the mother and gently traces his little face on the monitor. “Do you have any ideas for names yet?”

April smiles at the girl lost in wonder and decides to let her have the moment she remembers so well from her own pregnancy. April runs her thumb over her child’s knuckles as she answers.

“She wants to name the baby after her parents. They died in a car accident when she was young. If it was a girl, her name would be Maria and if it was a boy, his name would be…”

“Ben.” The mesmerized girl finishes her sentence as she looks back at the doctor with a bright teary smile. “His name is gonna be Ben.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey boss.” Lyla cautiously calls the man who was frantically trying to find his missing love.

After he returned from stopping a Prowler anomaly, Miguel immediately went to the infirmary to find that she had left hours ago and no one else has seen her since the young SpiderWoman was sent back home.

He thought she was fine when he last checked on her when they shared a happy tear feast over how wonderful their daughter was before she had fallen asleep from crying.

“Not now Lyla. I’m trying to find (Y/N).” He grumbles as his nerves twist his stomach around.

It wasn’t like her to go off the grid like this, not without at least telling Miguel that she wanted some quiet time. He clenched his fist as he feared that meeting Maria may have caused his Sunny to fall into a bad spell of depression since…

“She’s in the observation room looking at the Web.” Lyla answers like she was annoyed that Miguel was listening to her. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. There’s something strange happening to your-“

Lyla is cut off by Miguel turning her off as he speed walks towards the observation room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tiny wail broke the chaotic tension in the room as tears of joy flood out of the exhausted woman. The squealing babe was placed on her chest as the doctors returned back between her legs to remove the placenta. Her trembling hands came up to soothe the baby boy as his slimy body trembled in the new environment. His dark hair matted to his soft head as his mother placed a delicate kiss on her baby boy’s forehead.

“Hello, Ben.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Miguel storms into the observation room as the target of his search stared silently at the glowing red spiral of webs. The images of the Maria of Earth 1784-B played out on a holographic image as she looks like she was tussling with the two boys he recognized as Maria’s brothers. An image of that world’s Miguel comes up and playfully picks up the three with a stumble before throwing them on the couch with a laugh as his wife comes up and laughs behind him.

The family that Miguel dreamed about every night. The one he tried to achieve twice in different ways before it was stolen from him. The one he can’t help but crave with his beloved but knows it probably won’t happen.

“Cariño?….” His voice barely as whisper as he approaches his lover as she jumps in surprise.

Her teary eyes stared at him in alarm as a protective hand was placed on her stomach.

Miguel ignores that detail, believing that she was just mourning her lost baby boy, and gently placed his hand on her cheek, softly wiping away her tears.

Her eyes shine with untold anxiety as her choked sob caused Miguel to pull her into his chest. “Estoy aquí mi amor. Háblame....” He whispers softly into her hair as he wraps his arms tightly around her.

Her own grip traps him against her shaking body as she cries into his chest. Her worries slowly spilling out as she sobs, “ It’s not fair…”

“I know. “ Miguel mumbles as he rubs the base of her skull softly to provide some relief from the pain. “The universe is cruel…”

“It is…” she agrees as her breathing eventually evens out enough for her to pull away slightly to look up into his concern burgany gaze. “Miggy…Tengo algo que decirte... pero tengo miedo de que te enfades conmigo…” She admits with an unstable edge in her voice.

Miguel frowns at this as he cups her face. His concerned love filled eyes closes as he pulls her towards his lips. He kisses her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers. His eyes opening as an encouraging smile shines at him.

“No, mi sol, nunca me enfadaría contigo. Especialmente si te está causando tanto estrés.” He mutters as he feels his beloved’s hands wrap around his thick wrist, using his pulse to stablize her.

“Really?” She looks for reassurance as her swollen eyes searched his for any doubt.

“Yes. I’m sure…”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, beautiful!” A voice cheers as she enters the hospital room.

The new mother was propped up on a the hospital bed with her newborn son swaddled up in a soft blue blanket. She stops admiring the sleeping babe to smile up as April walks over with a bright smile and a beautiful bouquet of Carnations. Their petals were a soft pink with a baby blue ribbon wrapped around the glass vase. April places the arrangement down as she sits beside the bed.

“So that’s my grandchild?” She asks as she reaches over and gently caresses the bundle. Ben stirs for a moment before settling back down. The young mother nods and slowly moves the baby into her god mother’s arms.

The new grandmother accepts the baby happily as she leans back and gently coos at the sleeping Ben.

“You’re gonna have him spoiled.” She jokes as she admires watching how the older woman’s eyes light up as the baby’s face twitches.

“Grandbabies are for spoiling while children are made for scolding.” April quips back playfully as she giggles at her Goddaughter. “Oh, your boss brought those by the apartment. He said he hopes you’ll bring the little guy by the lab when he’s big enough.”

A confused frown takes over her face before she realizes that her mentor must have been the one she met. Working at Alchemax during her work study and pregnancy allowed her to get close to the board member that gave her the chance to work here. Him being a father himself, he took the pupil under his wing and helped her a lot during this time, even easing her worries with embarrassing tales of his own parenting blunders . He was more of a friend now than her mentor.

As April entertains herself with the infant, the mother reaches over and plucks the card placed on the top of the flower arrangement. She holds the card gently as she read the note, a soft smile.

‘Congratulations, kiddo. You made it to parenthood. You better bring that boy here to hang out with us because I need something more interesting to do than listen to Osborne’s voice all day. Signed, Dr. …. ‘

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Excuse me!!” A visual of Lyla appears beside the couple with an annoyed expression. Her irritability can be heard as she stares at the startled pair before glaring at Miguel.

“If you’re done being a couple of cry babies, I have some urgent news!” She snaps before pulling up a familiar red webbing with an odd addition wrapping around its nodes.

Miguel frowns in concern as he sees a blue web intertwining with the red nodes of his canon while his sunshine looked shocked.

This was not a normal anomaly…

“What is that?” Miguel asks while Lyla scoffs.

“Your canon is changing, but not from an anomaly.” She explains. “Your universe is fixing itself.”

“Fixing itself from what?” Miguel growls as he’s growing frustrated at the rude behavior the AI was expressing.

“From the bun in your sunshine’s oven.”

And with a quiet what, the big bad Miguel O’Hara falls over and passes out.

~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Estoy aquí mi amor. Háblame….—-I'm here, my love. Talk to me....

Tengo algo que decirte... pero tengo miedo de que te enfades conmigo…—I have something to tell you...,but I'm scared you are going to be upset with me…

No, mi sol, nunca me enfadaría contigo. Especialmente si te está causando tanto estrés.—-No, my sun, I would never be upset with you. Especially if its causing you this much stress.

~~~~~~~~~

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[inklessletter]

Since I can't draw tonight, here's a steddie prompt for you:

Steve runs away from home once he becomes eighteen because his home environment is absolutely toxic. It's all yelling, and spitting insults, and constantly hearing that he is such a disappointment, so he decides to hit the road and go some city away from everyone he knows and just start over. His trauma response to loud, aggressive spaces leads him to accept a job managing a school library.

And he finds out it is his dream job.

He sees all these teens studying, sharing glances, romances beginning, stress increasing as midterms come closer, annoyed faces, giggling girls gossiping, kids vandalizing his tables... And he feels an observant. A watcher.

And he imagines. He imagines their lives, the tall jock with the widest smile going soft for the sarcastic redhead. The quiet thing blossoming between tose two boys who give longing glances when the other is not looking. The oddest friendship between the meanest eleven year old he's ever met and the most cynical kid to ever set foot in that school. He sees and he imagines, but he's silent.

Because silence is a precious shield that protects his imagination. Silence will never hurt him.

His first real friendship begins in silence. This girl, Robin, passes him a note with a poor drawing of him falling asleep on his desk. It made him laugh. She laughed too. That was enough.

They play this game together in which they both exchanged the craziest theories they could think of about other people's lives.

That one is a Russian spy.

That one runs a secret lab.

That one has mind powers (okay, that was maybe too crazy).

That one is an former cop.

"That one is a rockstar," Robin said pointing an absurdly good looking guy that was checking out a couple of books.

"He does looks like one, though..."

Robin was going to reply when she noticed Steve's rosy cheeks. She just smiled. She noticed the guy looking briefly at them, and then he grinned.

"Metal is more my scene, but close enough," he said.

Shit.

The guy approached them and Robin, the traitor, bolted away. The guy, all dimples and soft hair lent Steve two books and his library card (Munson, Eddie), that he registered and gave back to him.

Steve tried hard not to be an awkward mess, he barely managed to.

"I do actually play in a band, uh, on Tuesdays," Eddie said. Steve looked at him with a twist in his stomach. "And today is Tuesday. So if you want to come, I would gladly buy you a drink."

Steve felt a lump in his throat, and looked down.

"Uh, I—I don't—"

"Oh, sorry, I just—"

"I don't do well with loud noises," Steve said quickly. "I'm sorry."

Eddie nodded.

"Good luck tonight," Steve said, not wanting to leave the conversation in a rejection. He pointed the book. "This one is really good."

"Have you read The Lord of the Rings?"

"Yeah," Steve smiled. "I've got time and silence here."

Eddie looked at him with something hidden in his pupils meant to be discovered by Steve.

Eddie left the library.

There were a few days and a lot of conversations with Robin about that Eddie guy. Steve let himself imagine again, about him. About Eddie. He fantasized a lot, ignoring deliberately the sting in his guts knowing that he blew up his chance.

Two weeks passed and Eddie was there to return the books again, with a small guitar case hanging in his back, and Steve tried his best not to look like a kicked puppy.

"I can do soft noises," Eddie said, out of the blue. It earned him a look from both Robin and Steve. "When do you, uh, have a break?"

"Right now," Robin chimed in, quickly. "He's having a break right now."

A few minutes later they were in the rooftop. They found a comfortable spot with the best views and Eddie took out an old and battered ukulele. Then he looked at Steve.

"I am not a silent person. I exist in noise, and busy environments, and awful high pitched laughs," he said with a smile. "I can't change that, but I can change the noise."

Eddie caressed the tiny guitar strings, and the sound sent goosebumps through all Steve's skin.

"I can change the noise for you," Eddie said, low and soft, and he started playing a song. "If you let me."

His first real love began with music.

[notlhecxzsa]

It Still Hurts Underneath My Scars - N.R

Summary: Natasha was supposed to go home, but what happens when she unveils something—hidden deep beneath those smiles, making her also run right back to the past. Will this turn out well for both of them?

Author's Note: Ahhh this is a hot 4k+ word and just like what I said, here comes all the angst I could give the world.

Warning: Yelling, broken glasses, cursing, so mean!natasha, crying, blood, injuries, bruises, trauma, poor sad baby Y/n (she deserves every good thing in the world, yes.) Tell me if I missed something!

°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~

3rd Person's POV:

Natasha woke up at the faint sound of metal clashing onto the ground, with eyes snapping open and body sitting up straight immediately she quickly withdrew a gun inside the small table beside her bed. With steps cautious and quick, she approached the door and quietly opened it. As another clanking of two or more heavy material, she approached the kitchen where the sounds are coming from.

Maybe, it was coincidental or maybe the time is just in the mood for games that Natasha was not prepared for. With her gun pointed to the culprit of the sound, it was faced directly to the younger one's figure, if she was to pull the trigger she would hit bullseye, that's for sure.

With 2 pairs of wide eyes, one with shock and the other with a noticeable fear, Natasha pulled down her gun, her facade straightening up while Y/n stayed staring. The tremble of her chest as she took deep breaths—too deep breaths for Natasha's liking can be noticed from afar.

"What the hell are you doing? I thought someone had broken in." She did not intend for it to come out so harshly, but the unsettling feeling in her chest is just so hard to ignore. What even is it? Fear? Anger?... Worry?

She walked towards the counter, putting down the gun as she watched as the gaze of the small girl seemed stuck with a glue on it. She didn't know what pushed her to hide it away, putting it on her waist, tucking it in on her pants, away from eyes that seemed to be going through a thousand miles.

There was a moment of silence, Natasha almost felt the unsettling rumble in her stomach overtake her being. So, she decided to speak up once again, "I asked you a question." Rounding up the counter to get a glass of water, she saw just how much mess has been made.

A broken mug with spilled coffee, clattered empty pot and a pan, there's also some water splattered around the girl's feet. A deep frown settled on her face as she looked up once again to gaze at Y/n's face, trying to search for her eyes but found nothing when she saw that she was looking down.

"I-... I di-... I'm so- I'm so sorry... I don't- I didn't mean to... W-Wait..." Crouching she immediately touched the pot and the pan, one hand each. And each hand, Natasha could visibly see how much it trembled, the pump of her chest now more seen by the naked eyes.

As the young woman moved around, giving Natasha a glimpse of the distressed face she was wearing. This is the first time that Natasha had seen her with that kind of expression, in this type of condition, but she was stuck on her own feet as she watched.

She watched as she picked the shards of sharp glass off of the floor with her bare hands, making Natasha's eyes widen in fear as the worry in her chest grew, now having a clear understanding she was feeling.

"Wait! Stop that." Launching forward, she took a hold of both of the thin arms that are covered with sleeves, one of the many long sleeves that Y/m wears.

As soon as her hands got in contact with Y/n's forearm and and upper arms, Natasha pulled her upwards. With a force applied and the grip she that the older woman has on her, Y/n's face scrunched bitterly as she yelped. Her hands flapped up and tried to pull her body away from Natasha.

"Ah!" It went unnoticed by Natasha who seemed to be in trance, getting Y/n out of the surrounded glasses. "N-Natasha..." Tears pricked her eyes as she looked up, her body being manhandled away from the scene while Natasha's gaze was stuck on the ground, observing the trail of glasses, water and coffee in order to get the younger woman in her arms to safety.

Biting her lips, tears swam around her eyes before it ran down on her cheeks. "Are you an idiot? You can't fucking pick up those glass with your hands! You will hurt yourself. Are you even thinking?" Blurting out words she didn't think of, words out of the raging storm in her mind, blinding her from the way Y/n kept flinching on her grip.

Y/n could feel a faint taste of rusty blood on her lips with how much she's biting down so hard in it. Her whimpers drowned out by the scolding she's receiving as the hold reminded her of something familiar.

Soon enough she was settled down beside the counter, far from the chaos and mess she made. Her form trembled as her breathing became ragged. Her arms ached, she could feel the blood rushing inside the bruises that littered around her body. She couldn't even find enough courage to move and help Natasha out who swept the glass and wiped the substance on the floor.

She's supposed to clean that up! She messed up so bad, and she knows it. The aching arms are quickly forgotten when fear starts to overcome her mind, spreading like a poison ivy. With tears flooding her cheeks, she bent down and started picking the broken glass that was near her, flinching when it cut right through her skin.

"Y/n!" Natasha watched as the young woman continuesly pick up the glasses with trembling hands. One hand kept picking it all up while the other holds the shard of glasses—she wasn't holding it, she was gripping it. "Hey! Y/n!" Stepping forward, she took a hold of the petite body once again, never missing how it tensed under her touch, making her almost pull away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, don't- don't hurt- No, no, no..." Natasha heard the whispers that came out of her mouth, making her frown go deeper as she pulled them up together. She felt Y/n trying to pull her arms away, so she gripped tighter. "No!" It came out meekly, a small high pitched voice.

"Hey..." That must have been the softest voice that came out of Natasha ever in her life. Finally realized just how much mess and chaos has been done, not just in her kitchen floor, but to Y/n. "Hey, hey, hey..." She walked the two of them towards the other side of the kitchen island, her grip softening as one of her hand snaked around Y/n's waist.

"Please... don't hurt me... I'll clean it up... good- I'll be good." At the sound of her voice, Natasha could feel her knees weakening for unknown reason.

"What?- I- I won't hurt you." Analyzing the angelic face of Y/n, she couldn't help but notice the distant gaze she has and seemingly to in some kind of trance.

Looking down, she caught the sight of Y/n's shaking hardened fist, then up to her chest that jumps up and down hysterically, just then she noticed how ragged her breath is. "Hey, breath. It's okay, it's all fine..." Her hands seemed to have its own brain as it automatically cups her cheeks, trying to trap her gaze into hers. "Y/n, detka, hey, I'm not mad, it's okay. The mess is cleaned up already, hey..." Seeing the irises of her eyes moving side by side hysterically, Natasha realized that she can't see clearly, along with the tears in her eyes.

With her vision unfocused, her ears only ringing, Y/n could feel her blood running cold as she tried to catch her breath. There was a pressure on both of her face but she couldn't feel it properly, she doesn't know what it is. God, she can't have another meltdown here, not when she's just new here. Natasha might think of her weirdly, she might even get more angry.

"Hey, Nat?- What-" Natasha's head whipped around to see Maria standing by the kitchen hallway. Was she that too caught up with the girl in front of her that she did not notice the other presence breaking inside of her penthouse? No, she couldn't be. "What happened?" With worry evident in her voice, Maria rushed to their side, her hand reaching out to touch Y/n's lower back.

Natasha has her locked up in her arms, so Maria couldn't really do anything much. With both of Natasha's hand caging Y/n's small body, she pulled her in even more. There was a sudden click inside her that made her pull her in, she doesn't know if it was because of the worry i side of her growing or maybe the way Maria had reached out for her girl.

"Maria, get the aid kit inside the bathroom. Also get some towel and a bowl of water." Natasha's voice commanded before bending down to pick up the girl in her arms bride style, realizing that she wouldn't be walking.

Maria immediately ran to get what was needed, looking down at the mess that was made on the kitchen floor, she frowned and started pondering or what had happened. Then suddenly, flashes of the bruises she saw on Y/n's arms blinded her thoughts, clenching her jaw she imagined the worse.

The was Natasha was gripping her, holding her tightly did not sit right as she thought of it right now. The way she overtowered the small girl as Y/n trembled in fear. Fuck, Natasha couldn't be...

"Hey, let me get that..." As soon as she set Y/n down on the couch, she take a hold of her fisted hand that is still holding the pieces of sharp glass tightly.

Holding it gently in her hands, she caught a glimpse of something as the sleeves of Y/n's clothing hike up. Frowning, she reached forward and pull it up even more out of curiosity. Blood drained her face as the bruises that littered around it became visible in her eyes. Her hold on her earlier couldn't have done that, no. It is clear that it is made days or weeks ago.

Averting her focus back on getting the glasses out of Y/n's hands, she felt her heart started to pump faster. She hated it. She shouldn't be feeling like this, no, she can't feel like this.

"Here..." Without looking up, she took the kit from the hands of her friend and started tending on Y/n's hand, now in complete silence as her mind ran miles.

What is there that she still doesn't know?

°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~

Maria's POV:

"You're still here." I turned to see Natasha walking towards the railing of her balcony, gazing towards the scenery in front of us, not bothering to throw me even just a glance.

I looked back to where I was staring, inhaling a pound of air before letting it all out. "Your actions opposes the assumptions I have in my mind." I started, just then, I felt her eyes burning holes on the side of my head. "You're not..." I gulped down an invisible ball of saliva in my throat. "You're not the one who did those to her, did you, Natasha?" Catching her eyes, a frown started forming her face before her stance became tensed.

A reaction I knew all too well. But, not what I expected to receive with this topic.

"What?" She asked and I could hear the pure confusion lacing through her voice. A sound that demands an immediate and straight answer. I looked away and started answering.

"The last time I was here. I saw her arms. Beaten. Raw. I'm starting to thinking it's all over her body, I also... thought that it was you." I looked back to her face when I saw it snapped to look inside the penthouse. A faint glitch in her facade that she only wore when we thought her father had found out about her hidden treasures. Fear. Worry. "After earlier, I saw... I saw how you cared for her, Natasha-" I almost jumped at the sound of her voice.

"I didn't." I shook my head and chuckled lowly, bending down and putting both of my elbows on the railing. How I could see right through her.

"I wouldn't blame you for starting to feel like this. I watched you, Natasha." Turning only my head to look at her, a knowing glint shining in my eyes as her gaze locked in mine. Showing her that I know, and she doesn't have to hide it.

No matter how much she wants to, no matter how much she needs to. No matter how much she will deny.

"Just like how you watch her."

I waited... and waited. But, a response never came. Sighing, I stood up straight. Turning my whole body towards the sliding door but made no move to approach it. "I care for her..." I started, once again. "Not the way you do, of course." Just then, it all came down to me just how much I got so attached to this girl, how much her attentiveness and hospitality had made my heart moved like no one. Clint's right, we're all really getting soft because of her. "She's a sister I have never had. Tell me what you want me to do, I will help you. I will bring what you need, and I will come wherever you want me to be."

Still, I was met with silence. Clearing my throat before sighing, I started walking towards the door.

"Hill." Now, that's what I was looking for.

Looking back, I catch the fire in her eyes even though her face is stone cold. I knew by then, it will catch up to those who have sinned.

"I want everything." She said in a monotone, with her jaw clenched, she turned around and I was faced with her back.

I nodded, even though she couldn't and wouldn't see me. "You got it, boss." I said before stepping inside the penthouse, my eyes immediately locking in on the figure that is sat on the farthest edge of the couch, as if it will ground her—protect her from everything.

I analyze her body for a minute, she doesn't have her socks on as usual, making me catch a glimpse of a faint bruise that is long but not deep from what it looks like. Taking a deep breath, I decided to go, taking a last look on her face, staring into nothingness with seemingly no thoughts behind her eyes.

God knows what is unleashed.

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(Flashbacks) 3rd Person's POV:

A giggled escaped the 13 year old girl as she read a book that was given to her by Lucille. Something funny had happened on the character that made her stomach tingle and let out a giggle, unaware of the pair of eyes that is burning holes in the whole of her body.

Just as she let out another giggle, the sound of a gun booming that is all to familiar to her ears went off, making her jump with no sound escaping her lips. Just like what Lucille had thought her, no noise means less hits. As her heart raised, beating faster, she stood up, leaving the book on where she was sitting, with a promise to get it back later before running off inside the huge mansion.

The same pair of eyes followed her, a knowing glint of who she was, the same pair of eyes that studied her dull life but found it the most interesting. Walking towards the huge tree, under the shade of it is where she took the book. Knowing that her Dad is enjoying his time with their family's friend, she knew they wouldn't even notice that she's gone, too busy playing with different guns.

She studied the surroundings and did not wonder just how much Y/n loves it here. She remembered the time she met Y/n here, she remembered that the young girl was still 3, munching on a cookie that looks like she will be killed if she was found eating it.

"Hey..." An 8 year old Natasha spoke, a certain softness present in her voice.

The little one jumped, dropping the cookies as she did so. Those cute chubby cheeks with some crumbles of cookies made Natasha want to pinch it. She looks angelic, Natasha wondered if maybe, they do hide angels around here because she certainly just met one.

"I not eat the tookies!" The visible lisp came out, making a smile break through Natasha's face. With those frowning small eyebrows, Natasha could feel her stomach doing flips because of the cuteness.

"But, you did." Natasha started, smiling teasingly as she walked closer. "And you have cookies all over your face." Natasha explained, her hands going to her hips, just like what she sees on her father.

"I didn't..." Smearing her small hands on her face didn't do her any good, as now her face is more covered in crumbles and a faint chocolates here and there. "See? You ate the tookies! Maybe..." A laugh broke from Natasha, even as a mere child, she's never the one to laugh a lot. Hearing the unbelievable assumption that has been made towards her made her surrender in defeat—once again, something she does not usually do.

"Okay, then. Whatever you say... cookie monster." She said before she saw Y/n smile—a name she discovered from her parents. "Would you like to play?" She asked, observing how Y/n looked down at the cookies that fell earlier with somber eyes.

Natasha felt bad, knowing that she accidentally scared her and now she doesn't have anything to eat. "No, Lutcy will be mad if I get dirty. I won't get more tookies." She explained, and Natasha smiled.

As if she didn't eat one already.

"I'll give you more cookies! We have so many at home." Natasha said, making the small girl snap her head up at her.

"Weally?" A toothy grin made its way on her face, making Natasha smile unconsciously and nodded. "Otay, but- but we gotta make- we gotta bring Tammy along with us... he gets very lonely." The small girl almost scream in excitement, Natasha only nodded before she followed the little one.

Following the 13 year old girl, her steps in track and with a certain speed to catch up. There were a couple of turns until she was met with the end of a hallway. Clutching the book in hand she approached the slightly ajar door.

She stood there, frowning when she tried to listen to the other side of it and was met with silence. She was sure Y/n had ran in here, catching a glimpse of her hair as she went running inside. Her hands reach out to knock, but then again was met with nothing, only a faint shuffling that reassured her someone was inside.

Breathing deeply, she push the door, it was a tight space, a storage room, yet it is clean. As soon as the door is wide enough, she saw the trembling form of a girl. She observed how her shoulder heavied with each breath she took.

"Were you scared?..." Natasha started, gazing at the way the younger one's head popped up to look at who followed her. "By the guns, I mean." Natasha noticed how tears are brimming up in her eyes—those same eyes she never once forgot.

The same ones that haunted her in her sleep.

Receiving no response, she took a step forward before crouching in front of the girl. "You left this." She raised her hand and offered her the book, which was immediately taken by the girl. Just then, Natasha noticed the gauze wrapped up around her arm, more bruises surrounding it that is mixed of color green and purple.

Frowning, she looked at the girl's eyes, only to find it gazing at the book, avoiding her look. "What happened to you?" She could remember those other times she met the girl, the same color littering her body, the same condition designed her skin.

Finally, their eyes met, but only a shake of a head is what she received as another faint gun shot rang in the atmosphere making the girl jump from where she was sitting and pushed herself further on the wall. Natasha, without flinching, as if the sound puts her to sleep at night, turned her body and pushed the door close.

Turning back, she sat on the floor, offering a small smile. "Don't worry, you won't get hurt." Noticing the way Y/n's eyes kept looking back at her and the door. "You won't hear it anymore. If you still do, you just go like this..." Putting her hands on both of her ears, Natasha simulated what should be done.

Only gazing at the red head, Y/n felt a certain familiarity with her face. She was the kid of those friends of her parents that would come and go here. But, still, shying away from the girl in front of her, Y/n knew very little of socializing—experiencing it scarcely.

Seeing uncertainty swimming around the doe eyed gaze of the younger girl in front of her, Natasha went forward, putting her own hand on Y/n's ears that are covered by her hair. With the space between them almost closed, Natasha could finally analyze the face that kept chasing her waking hours.

Natasha does find her beautiful—ethereal even, but she has no explanation as to why she feels this way—remembering the young one this way.

"Do you hear anything?" Natasha felt the shake of her head, their eyes staying lock in each other's. "That's good..." Natasha said before pulling away and going back to sit on the floor, now with a much more closer distance with the girl.

It was like a magnetic pull that keep wanting her to get closer and closer. She doesn't know what it is, yet she did not fight against it. It feels just right.

"Are you going to stay here?" Natasha asked, the girl did not answer, only keep looking at Natasha now with eyes full of curiosity and familiarity. "We can stay here—I can stay here with you." Natasha said, before her eyes dropped down to look at the movement of the girl's lips. She's smiling, Natasha thought, but only a little.

In the moment, both of their hearts grew, sitting in silence, hidden from the world that is destined to break and make them.

(End of Flashback)

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Natasha's POV:

I stood in the kitchen, looking over at the girl that is sat in the living room. I opened the television when I went inside from the balcony, seeing how eerily quiet here—the same noise the surrounded the atmosphere before Y/n started living here.

I was supposed to leave and go to the manor today, but something just keeps me from going. Something is grounding me from walking right through the door and get back with my life.

"What did you want to say? Make sure to not waste my time." I sneered at Yelena as we stood in the building's parking lot.

"Father's plans changed—I shouldn't be telling you this, but..." Gazing straight into my sister's eyes, I knew she wouldn't keep something from me. "I though I should let you know." Crossing my hands, I gave her my full attention.

"The wedding's not gonna happen..." I frowned, my insides shaking with something I can't put a finger to. Searching for any lies in her eyes, she explained further, "But, everything is still going. The marriage..." My shoulder visibly relaxed, I doubt that she did not notice it, seeing the way her eyes went on my sides, a knowing glint in her eyes as it reach my gaze. "... it's all settled in the paper..." She trailed off.

"Hmm?" I raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue.

"Papa discussed something with Y/n's parents, I didn't hear much but what I know is that after everything, they will be cutting Y/n off of their will... you will have it all." My frown deepened, my chest tightening with something I can't name.

"What the hell do you mean about that? What? Are they going to just throw her away like she's not their daughter?" I blurted out, Yelena's lips turned up a little—damn it, Natasha, get your shit together.

"She's just simply the paper in between their business, Natasha. After the marriage, you and I both know she's nothing to father..." She started. "...and to her parents... I don't really know, but that is the only thing I've heard. After that, I think it's up to you whatever happens to her... she'll be your wife...on paper, at least." She searched for something in my eyes, something I'm unsure of.

I have never felt so out of control. I couldn't control the thoughts and feelings circling around my insides. I couldn't even begin to figure it out.

"And you and I both know she means nothing to you..." She started, making my eyes dart straight into her eyes.

My face hardened, not letting her show a bit of emotion.

"Isn't that right?..." She asked, and I could tell the slightly visible teasing tone lacing through her voice. "Natalia?-"

"Shut the fuck up before I make you." Surging forward, I pushed her, making her tumble, if it weren't for the car behind her she would've fly down to the floor.

She chuckled lowly. "I still haven't met my future sister-in-law, when can I visit her-" My hand immediately reach out roughly and punch her on the cheek, making her tumble on the side.

"I won't let her near you—all of you." I gritted through my teeth. She knew about it. She's hitting all of my soft spot, and she might be the one whom I call my best friend before, telling her everything, but not anymore.

Not after she chose to stay with our parents when I offered her the chance to run away with me and build a new life.

"Even after all these years, Nat?" She asked, looking to side as if her face got locked after I punched her.

My eyes lit fires as I burn holes on the side of her head. My fist clenching on my side as I fought the urge to kill her right there and then.

"I don't wanna see your face here."

But, how can I leave when I finally have what I've yearned for all those years. I didn't even ask for it, didn't work for it yet it came down falling into my lap.

As I continued gazing at her, for once in my life, fear started to creep up. Fear of the unknown, where will this lead me? Weakness is something so foreign to me, just like how love and care is, but taking in what Maria had said earlier.

I did care.

But, not for anyone.

Only for her.

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Author's Note: Finallyyyy, ahhhh, everything in my mind is falling into place. Hope you enjoyed this one! More angtyness coming your way, darlings (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

[metalomagnetic]

Any chance you can share an excerpt of the Harry/Sirius fic you have planned? 🥺

“That’s teenage years for you, kid; you’re always angry.”

Harry frowns. “You think that’s all there is to it?”

“Sure. I was that way, too.”

“Was?” Harry asks, and he’s finally smiling. A tiny thing, frail, but it’s a smile. “Seems like you’re still going through your teenage years, then.”

“Cheeky bastard.” Sirius swats him over the head, playfully.

The frail smile turns into a grin. There’s a mischievous side to Harry, buried deep under the trauma, the burden of being the Boy Who Lived.

Harry reaches for the bottle again. “Gross,” he shudders, making a face after he swallows. “Does it get better? The taste?”

“Eventually,” Sirius says, opening a second bottle, now that he relinquished the first to Harry. “You get used to it.”

He got Regulus drunk in this very room some twenty years before.

His mother sighs in his head. She sounds resigned.

“How about those?” Harry nods at the pack of cigarettes Mundungus snuggled in for Sirius. “Will you teach me?”

“Not much to teach,” Sirius says, giving Harry a fag, taking one for himself.

He lights them with his wand and tells Harry to breathe the smoke in.

Predictably, he chokes.

“Being a bad boy isn’t easy, Harry,” Sirius mocks.

“It’s disgusting,” Harry wheezes, still choking, but when he calms he tries again, to the same result.

By the time he finishes, Harry grows even paler, says he’s a bit dizzy.

How innocent he is; how young. Sirius remembers the first time he smoked, that dizziness Harry speaks of.

He was thirteen, and life was good, even if it didn’t feel like it. Now he wishes he could go back to those times.

Would you abandon us again? If you could go back, would you still betray us? the voices demand.

“I’ll teach you to ride a bike,” Sirius promises. “Next summer. I’ll buy one. Miss riding, anyway.”

“Drinking, smoking, riding bikes, moping around in corners, being angry- what else is on the requirement list for being a bad boy?”

“I don’t mope around,” Sirius argues. “And never in corners. I brood in full view of everyone.”

Harry laughs. It might be the whiskey, but there’s some colour returning to his face. He almost looks alive.

He’ll die, eventually. Everyone around you dies, brother.

Regulus was always a spoilsport.

“Alright, alright. Brooding, then. What else?”

“Fucking,” Sirius says, just to embarrass him, and it works like a charm. Harry goes red, instantly. “Can’t be a bad boy if you don’t fuck around.”

Harry looks away. He runs his fingers through his hair again, making it stick out more than usual. It still doesn’t remind him of James.

When James did it, there was intention behind it. He liked his hair like that, and he knew some girls liked it, too.

When Harry does it, there’s nothing intentional about it. It screams of insecurity, something that wasn’t in James’ vocabulary.

“Well,” Harry says, so red he’s turning purple. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that, too.”

A warning rings in Sirius’ head.

Don’t poke at it, his mother advises him. Leave it be, Sirius.

Sirius never listened to her, so he won’t start now.

“You know girls that won’t mind your godfather joining you for a bit of fun?” Sirius teases. “Why, Harry, you’re already running with a bad crowd in that case.” Harry snorts, gulps more whiskey. “I barely know any girls at all,” he mumbles. “But I’m sure no girl would say no to you; it’s more likely they’ll protest to me, really.”

“First lesson,” Sirius says. “No self-depreciating jokes. No poor-me attitude. No one finds that attractive.”

“Well, that’s who I am,” Harry snaps, that temper of his rearing its head for a second.

“Even so, you hide that shit if you want to pull birds. Pretend you’re confident, even when you aren’t.”

“That’s wrong, though. Misleading someone, lying-”

“Bad boys lie all the time.”

Harry huffs. He slumps back into the couch. “Forget it. I can’t be a bad boy.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Sirius agrees. “Plus, if you want to be really bad, you’d need to do some prison time. Not worth it, I assure you.”

“Being locked up in a cupboard doesn’t count?” Harry asks. “Did about ten years of that.”

[finnfrei]

I would love to hear more about your bard and her dragonborn 🥺👉👈

Aww, thank you so much for asking! Tbh, I always feel shy sharing the stories of my OCs, so I really appreciate your interest🩵

Where do I even begin? (Also, English is not my first or even second language, so I apologize for my poor writing in advance).

Clio is my changeling bard from our current homebrew DnD campaign and she’s the little ray of sunshine, who’s hiding her trauma behind a cheerful innocent smile. Or at least she used to be up until the party’s current adventure in Avernus. Quite early in life she realized how easy it is to lure secrets from people, when you look cute and play dumb.

Once she set out on an adventure with the party, she had a dream. A charming stranger in a dragon mask at a ball challenged her to play a complex composition. Non of what she saw on the music sheet he gave her made sense, it couldn’t sound good. But Clio was not the one to fuck around with and she started playing, struggling at first, but getting the grip of it. As the music played, the dirty secrets of people in the room started to reveal themselves to her overflowing her mind. The man asked her to meet him in the house of upper city where the party was headed.

That was how she met him, the man in the mask wasn’t a man she saw in the dream, but an emerald Dragonborn. Hescan was a commander of Secret Police and Master of College of Whispers. This tough mountain of muscles with cold gaze and devious grin was barely showing any genuine emotions. It felt familiar, she’s so used to putting on a mask herself, different ones, but still. He played cool and unbothered. Some even might say he looked dangerous, but Clio had met dangerous, cruel men way too many times before and wasn’t so easily fooled by him. She found it adorable on him. The feeling of safety around him puzzled her. He suggested her to work for him, collecting information, dragging skeletons out of others closets. She thought it would be fun to finally get paid for something she does anyway, never taking the job too seriously though. And well, girl asked for the direction of the nearest brothel, hoping to get some intelligence from local prostitutes, knowing full well about the amount of secrets kept by all the creatures, who aren’t taken seriously by rich and powerful. However, the dragonborn jokingly suggested her his bedroom. Joke got out of control. Bards being bards, I guess.

It all started with both of them trying to get intimate, “have fun” just to let down the other’s guard to get under their skin and lure more secrets from each other. Learn each other’s weaknesses, but also trying to secure the other’s loyalty. Hescan was playing cool and distant, meanwhile Clio was taunting him any time she saw an opportunity, shamelessly trying the limits of his patience. She liked to call him “pretty boy” and only called him “chief” in jest, he knew it also turned her on.

Eventually the more they learned the more they started to genuinely care about one another. They both knew what it was like feeling your body, your boundaries violated, used for someone else’s sick whims. They found comfort, they knew they were safe with each other, even if just for the night. Although they both had a hard time admitting it. After all it would mean to admit they had lost the game.

Now with a few years passed, they still have hard time fully trusting each other, given their occupation. She still makes fun of him, he finds it cute. He knows he can rely on her, so as she does.

There were so many sweet and funny moments between these two and to be honest the scenes where they admitted their feelings to each other, letting down their guards, live rent free in my mind.

[svgvru]

. . . home, the place where i can go, to take this off my shoulders . . .

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔. after he had left, you never expected him to retun to you. after all, his words remained in your head: "we aren't good together." at this point, you've come to the conclusion he said that to keep you away from him. to spare you from his actions. and yet . . .

a series of knocks sound on your doornin the dead of night. your eyes scan the '𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟷' on your phone, sitting up in confusion as to who could be visiting you at a time like this. your feed pad on the wooden floors, surprising flooding your face at the sight when you open the door. there he was, as if he had never left—suguru geto. accept, there were two others. two little girls, sisters you assume, one with brown hair was hiding behind his legs—the other with blonde hair was curled in his arms. you wondered why he has children. much less, children who should be asleep at this time. "i need help."

he so desperately came to you, needing help with taking care of children, knowing you had experience with your siblings. two children at that. you should've shut the door and told him 'no.' but those adorable little faces made you step to side and let him in.

the little girls were small, and they most definitely had clothes that needed to be replaced. although, it was twelve in the morning, you couldn't go shopping. so cooked up something quick, handing them bowls of food that would fulfil them, promising to go visit your mother's and grab some of your sister's old clothes. "i thought "we didn't work," that you were leaving me," you mumble, hands scrubbing the dirty dishes—the two little girls were curled on the couch of your living room.

"im sorry," suguru whispers back, leaning agsinst the counter. "i thought that would make it easier . . . i— i'm set in my ideas, you can't change me. so if you want to kick—"

"those two little girls over there," you start, glancing at them. "nanako and mimiko, they need care. and you can't go in blind taking care of them. they're the reason i'm helping you . . . " suguru looks a bit shocked at your words, his lips part as if to say something, but he doesn't go through with it. instead, he smiles softly. "thank you . . . "

ever since then, you've helped him. turning a blind eye to his crime in exchange for helping with nanako and mimiko. as promsied, you took some of your sister's old clothes, giving the kids baths and fresh clothes. since then, suguru and you have gotten closer again. despite your distaste towards his ideals, you will forever continue to love him. watching him become a girl dad didn't help.

your days consisted of teaching suguru how to cook, because he burned everything he touched. helping get the kids into school, and asisting them with their homework. taking them to places and trips suguru couldn't—because he was a fugutive. giving nanako and mimiko the love and care they deserved after the trauma and abuse the village had given them. yes, the two of you got weird looks at times, being two men taking two little girls shopping, but regardless—the two of you were their dads. and you were always there for suguru, helping him with their milestones.

when they first learned to ride their bikes, there you were helping suguru teach them. surprisingly, mimiko was a much faster learner than nanako. you could say nanako was a bit of a late bloomer, she couldn't pick it up quite as fast as her sister. the poor girl cried at one point! however, she eventually got it with help of mimiko, you, and suguru.

and oh—the catastrophe that occured occured when the two of them happened to get their periods at the same time . . .

suguru ran—to you, dashed to you. his panicking, caused the kid to panic, and then you panicked for a moment before figuring out what was wrong. a sigh left your lips. "calm down, suguru . . . " you calmly told the girls to calm down, telling them it was normal. you took the risk and called shoko, telling her they were "your neices." she knew damn well you were lying, but regardless, she helped the girls. now you keep a bin of pads and hygiene products in the cabinet of your bathroom for the girls when they come over.

lets not start with the middle school crushes. you'd pick them up from school, suguru patiently waiting in the car . . . and a little boy would run up to nanako to say goodbye. as you got mimiko in the car, the two kids had a faint blush on their cheeks. you saw suguru's twitching eye in your peripheral. a sigh left your lips. "suguru, would you calm down. they're kids . . . " suguru grumbles, "i don't care. he needs to get away from my little girl!" you roll your eyes and call nanako to the car, the two kids parting. during the rest the car ride suguru was fuming.

every step of the way, you and suguru were taking care of them. nanako and mimiko had even started calling you "dad." mimiko started it first. it caused more pain in your heart when you realized the situation you were in.

suguru had declared war. your his two girls were standing behind him, refusing to look at you—perhaps out of shame?

you couldn't allow it. you couldn't allow the deaths of thousands at the cause of suguru, but you couldn't allow him to do either. it was such a great thing you were friends with satoru, and a special grade. it was a hassle to convince the higher-ups, yes. but the combination of yours and satoru's influence and power was enough of to convince them. if only you could convince suguru.

he wasn't afraid of you, he never was. holding things over his head was nearly impossible, but it was just that—nearly impossible.

his girls were now accomplices of his crimes. his family was in danger along with his life. he wasn't able to defeat yuuta, his goal would never be accomplished, even after everything he has given up. "please, suguru. it's enough, you've done enough." tears prick at your eyes at the sight of him, an arm missing and a bloodied face as he was slumped against the wall. if only you could convince. "the girls . . . " if suguru would just agree. "please . . . "

please. "okay . . . " he'd never admit it. but he loved those girls more than anything. he'd give up his life for them, he'd kill again and again for them. perhaps he had found what it truly meant to be a parent. "okay . . . "

this must be a dream. but if so, it's a good dream. shoko's reversed cursed technique had given him his arm back. he was healthy, he was here. no, his crimes couldn't be forgiven so easily. but suguru geto was back in your arms. him along with the now teenage girls, nanako and mimiko. the children you'd never admit you've always wanted with him.

ah, peace at last.

[clarity2electricboogaloo]

Outsiders shit. Some modern some not idfk

These are all like. The most crack-filled hcs ever, please excuse my brain 🙏🏽🙏🏽 if these don’t make sense to you, tell me

- dally is so headstrong that the moment someone bets he can’t do something, he does it

- the gang takes advantage of this

- (this is a method I use on my younger siblings 😭😭)

- dally can walk in heels

- also two bit. Like scarily well. His sister is amazed.

- pony calls people whore

- Johnny calls people thot

- they say these to each other on a regular basis.

- also hoe

- uhhh where was I

- something something gay something something 70s 80s smth pony and Johnny because Johnny never died frfr no cap

- Johnny: “I can’t believe yall vape smh”

- also Johnny: *pulls out a cigarette for each hand*

- pony does the same thing

- twobit and Marcia are either gay-lesbian solidarity or they’re dating, no in between

- if they’re gay, they’re a beard couple just like “we pretend to date, they can’t catch on” “I like the way you think, woman”

- ily twobit matthews. That’s all.

- twobit and Marcia are actually both Hispanic, its canon trust I was there

- dally types “women ☕️” in instagram comment sections

- also “it’s bc I’m a man isn’t it”

- (ty V on discord for that second one 🙏🏽🙏🏽)

- cherry and dally argue on twitter

- a lot

- dally spams cherry and then she absolutely COOKS this pathetic rat man

- dally blocks cherry, doesn’t talk to her for a while, then eventually forgets and unblocks her to harass the poor girl again

- cherry doesn’t realize blocking is a thing, but she complains to marcia and marcia shows her how to block Dallas

- dally, two bit, and Steve are all hopelessly addicted to twitter

- like it’s really fucking bad

- someone get these mfs off the internet

- dally therapy

- now

- right fucking now

- cherry valance and ponyboy bisexual man/bisexual woman solidarity

- they are besties

- nothing more nothing less

- change my mind

- (you cant)

- marcia “good luck babe” by Chappell roan

- pony autism

- Johnny audhd

- Darry autism

- soda audhd or just adhd

- I saw someone say dally ocd once and I like it so

- dally ocd

- twobit adhd

- Steve adhd

- everyone trauma :D

- when johnny actually lived after the fire bc thats what actually happened actually fr, he left his parents because he realized they didn’t love him (pulling from the “I don’t wanna see her” scene for this)

- he stays with the curtis boys most of if not all the time

- if soda and Darry are gone, pony will grab Johnny and they’ll sleep together

- not in a weird way you freaks

- pony just genuinely cannot sleep

- I may or may not be influenced by fics I’ve read…

- soda saw them one night when he got home late and was like “…queers?”

- he stays out a bit later than usual now, often found sleeping in another room

- Darry actually supports more than pony thought, when he comes out, Darry is like a pride parade mom frfr

- kinda lowkey overbearing with it

- ily Darrel curtis

- soda is the typa guy to genuinely not understand lgbtq+ but supports anyways

- sodas the typa guy to be asked what his pronouns are and say “just he/him. Wish I had smth more interesting, but I’m just a guy :D”

- on the other end of that, soda and Steve are gay

- everyone is gay

- all of them

- so very fucking gay

Im done yapping for now, im so sorry for anyone that sees this

[undead-supernova]

Bummer! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: you invite eddie out to a party with you and your best friend and it's all perfect...right?

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, dirty dancing/making out, hints at past trauma, arguing, underlining slut shaming, lots of heavy petting and fluffy feelings

note: we're up to part 3 already?! with part 4 already in the works?! who even am I anymore!!! thank you to both @littlexdeaths and @jo-harrington for being my biggest supporters and encouraging me to keep going. this is for you both !!!!

song inspo: the song in this chapter is Tití Me Preguntó by Bad Bunny. It is an absolute bop (also he is so hot it’s not even funny)

wc: 5.6k

“Your life sounds like fan fiction.”

You let out a high-pitched scoff, taking Aron’s stuffed octopus by the tentacles and whacking her with it.

“Shut up!”

Aron chuckled, throwing her hands up. “Hey, I never said that was a bad thing!”

You and Aron, your best friend since freshman year, were perched on her bed, all cross-legged and giggly, recounting the last few weeks with Eddie. When you finally told Aron about him, she was livid. How could you not tell your best friend about a really hot guy you’d been seeing who wasn’t an asshole? 

“He’s just so good,” you said with a content smile, throwing your head back on the bed like a girl in a 2000s romantic comedy. “I can’t believe I got this lucky.”

“Yeah, I’d feel lucky too if I had a guy playing guitar for me and tasted like cinnamon and beauty and stuff.”

Your smile widened, the phantom touch of his lips already having imprinted itself on your mouth. “He’s just so nice. And I feel like he gets me, you know? He sees me for me, not for my body or whatever. Plus, we have the same taste in music and movies and…” A soft sigh left your lips as you shrugged. “He just makes me happy, I don’t know.”

Aron leaned over, smiling down at you. The beads at the end of her long braids clinked together as she shook her head at you. “Well, I’m very happy this Eddie is making my best friend all gooey and soft for once.”

You rolled your eyes but you both knew you really appreciated the affirmation. Sometimes you needed that extra assurance, Aron’s opinion being maybe the most important to you—besides your own. When you’d met her at that dreaded Halloween party, all tattered clothes and broken sobs, Aron was quick to help you. Without questions, without judgment. A stranger helping a stranger before becoming best friends within a week.

Before you could get lost in the cold memory, Aron clapped her hands and gasped.

“You should invite him to the party!”

You sat up, furiously nodding. “Oh my God, yes! I completely forgot.”

“It’ll be fun.” You nodded, watching as her nose began to crinkle. “Unless you sneak off to go make out or something.”

Your apologetic smile that turned a little too exaggerated made her groan.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you said, feigning a sensual tone as you made kissy noises and reached out to tickle her.

She hit you with the octopus (that poor octopus), causing you both to laugh. “You tell me about every fucking kiss, bitch.”

Grabbing it from her, you smirked and said, “And you love hearing about it.”

Aron shrugged. “True. I’m too nosey for my own good.”

“And I’m too honest,” you added, giving her a high-five.

“So, the party?”

You hadn’t felt this way since you were fourteen, running around the football field late at night with Trent Summers, lost in the throes of an unrequited crush. Lost in an all-American fantasy of dating a boy on the football team when you hadn’t even made the cheer squad. Getting your heart broken after he told you he had a girlfriend. You ended your friendship right then and there—resulting in you throwing a football at his face.

Mary Winston had been next, all braces and crooked smiles. Sweet sixteens and discovered identities. You’d met in the art room during lunch, fawning over some TV show before realizing that there was something more there. It didn’t last long, but you swore you’d love her till the day you died. And if anyone had access to your tear-stained diary, they’d know it was very dramatic. Very dramatic.

(Come to think of it, you’d felt something bubbly inside you for Eliza Roseheart in preschool. Playing “husband and wife” and pecking each other on the lips shouldn’t have been as fun as it was.)

Now there was Eddie Munson, the guy who walked you to class and got you coffee just because. At night, you hopped in his van and went on drives. An hour and a half of scream-singing that always ended up with feverish make out sessions by the dock of a lake, the windows fogging up despite the humid heat just beyond those doors. Gnashing teeth as you both giggled your way through can we play 20 Questions? and can I tell you another secret? in between kisses. Helping him down from orgasms after some whispers and heavy, heavy petting, caressing his face in your hands as you told him how good of a job he did. Tracing the lines of his face as you teetered in and out of sleep. Feeling his lips on your forehead as he helped you back into your dorm.

You were never one to believe in good luck. After years of being thrown to the wolves and caged inside a dungeon you built yourself, this nerdy little goofball had coaxed you away from the bars. Led you from a state of hidden solitude, only to welcome you with warm sun and sweaty palms.

All you knew now was that you wanted him. Always.

“We’ll be there.”

Eddie felt naked without his jacket.

As a matter of fact, he felt a bit out of character. A dark, dark purple Black Sabbath tee was paired with his regular black jeans, combat boots, and wallet chain. The same rings and bracelets.

But his jacket. He knew he’d have to leave it with this weather. Smelling bad wasn’t an option tonight, especially meeting your best friend. The less he fucked up his appearance, the less he had to worry about fucking up in general.

So he hung up his favorite boy and left his dorm with bare arms. Followed his heart all the way to your dorm.

Had your roommate greet him, a giggle escaping her lips as soon as she saw him. Aron, as he learned, was quick to pull him into conversation as you finished up getting ready. Though you called down the hallway to them, he still couldn’t calm his anxiety.

Meeting new people didn’t bode well for him.

And yet he was proven wrong—their conversation was as easy as breathing, exchanging thoughts on their favorite video games and how legendary Black Sabbath was.

“Oh, I like you,” she said at one point and laughed at the blush rising to his cheeks. “I’m glad you already know that’s a compliment of the highest degree.”

He’d thought he got his groove back. He really did. But then he heard your heels echoing through the hallway and looked over at your figure coming closer. Eddie immediately shot up out of his seat at the sight of you.

Your dress was one he hadn’t seen before, a satin black spaghetti-strapped dress that hugged your curves just right. A patch at the bottom showed a red rose, circled by a silver snake. Black heels and an array of rings. No necklace, no earrings. Smokey-eyed and gloss-lipped.

“Fucking hell.”

Both girls broke out into laughter.

He wanted to hit himself. Could he once, just once, keep his mouth shut?

“Sorry,” he added.

You shook your head, stepping closer. “Don’t be. I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received, so thank you.”

Eddie nearly missed Aron skipping off to her room when you pulled him into a hug. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, letting his arms wrap around your back. Even after all these weeks, he found that he could never get used to your embrace. Your skin against his, the fizzle of something electric jumping between your bodies.

“You look amazing, by the way,” you whispered in his ear before pulling back. He was pretty sure your smile was just as goofy as his. “I love your shirt.”

“Thought you might,” he responded with a small laugh. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, but stopped himself. “Sorry.”

Your smile faltered as confusion flooded your face. “For what?”

Before he could apologize again, Aron was skipping back into the room and clapping her hands together.

“Alright, let’s boogey.”

You were quick to settle into the party, the three of you standing in one corner or another, laughing over really anything you could think of. Aron was sure to point out everyone who was cool and everyone who was not, giving Eddie a crash course in the party scene that always felt a little too high school for your taste. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to bother with that stuff which you liked. There was nothing worse than watching someone lose themselves in fair-weather friends.

Two drinks in, Aron left to go find some other friends of hers, reiterating that they were part of the Cool Crowd. It left you and Eddie to your own devices, with your exaggerated bantering and light shoves. Touches that felt like electric shocks, the voltage only increasing with each jab. At some point, you had to wonder if that’s why you both kept doing it.

Then, in the middle of threatening to tickle him, you heard the starting sounds of a Bad Bunny song you liked. Leaning your head back, you let out a satisfied “Yes!”, watching as people quickly gathered near the speakers.

Eddie looked at you, confused.

You merely chuckled, taking his hand and leading him over to the small crowd.

��Let’s dance!”

Your hand grasped his over your shoulder, just like that night you met. It was a feeling like no other, Eddie’s heart hammering in his chest. And, God, he really couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

He was happy. He was having fun.

“I don’t know how to dance to this kind of music!” he admitted loudly, a smile still plastered on his lips.

But you were far from deterred. “Just follow my lead, pretty boy.”

And just like that, you were turning around and tugging his hands forward until they met your waist. Let yourself lean back on him, grinding your hips as they swayed back and forth.

Effortless. That’s the best way he could describe the way you moved, the way you never missed a beat. The bass pumped and vibrated through Eddie’s limbs, but you seemed to be one with the music.

Dancing wasn’t something unheard of when it came to Eddie. If he was listening to music, chances were that he was shimmying his shoulders or head banging. In a mosh pit, he let himself get jostled around, bopping along to the sound. He may not have had hips like Jagger, but he knew how to move them at least.

However, this was new territory, having a girl, having you in front of him, waiting for him to move. And if he was supposed to move, then god dammit, he was going to move.

Eddie took a deep breath before the beat slowed down. Letting his wired thoughts fade into a soft buzz, doing what he felt was right. Like pulling you tight against his chest and moving his hips at the same time as yours. Pushing himself against your ass, a harsh breath leaving his nose at the friction.

Sighing, you let your head fall back on his shoulder, a content smile lifting onto your lips. Raised your hands, wrapping them around his neck the best you could, rhythm never lost on you.

And it would be just so easy to…

But would you be okay with…

Fuck it.

Shaking his head, he leaned down and began to kiss your neck. Your next sigh was what officially turned him on, pushing him further into your heat wave. Licked a stripe up your neck and tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

Eddie couldn’t help the thought, the impulse creeping up in this crowded house party to move his fingers just a bit lower, to skirt the hem of your dress that was riding up with each swirl of your hips. He wanted you, cock straining against his jeans in near agony, continuing to litter your neck with love bites as if you were alone.

And just before he could get a little more bold, you were taking his trigger-finger hand and placing it on your thigh, so close to what he could call the inner thigh.

“Is that okay?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He nodded. “Was already headed there, sweetheart. You beat me to it.”

“I took an earlier flight,” you joked.

A breathy chuckle left his lips. “That’s okay. That’s not my last stop anyways.”

Your thigh was soft, full, easy enough to squeeze. So he did, eliciting a high-pitched sigh from you.

A proud smile met your face. So you liked when he took the upper hand.

And, God, if you kept looking at him like that, he was going to start fingering you in front of every fucking person here. Maybe he would. No one was looking at you both, right? He could do it. Just a little bit. Just…just a little bit.

His fingers twitched, raising higher and higher and—

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” a voice said, snapping you out of this moment. You both looked over to see Aron approaching, taking hold of one of your wrists. “But I gotta steal her for a second.”

“Aron!” you exclaimed, holding onto Eddie’s hand as long as you could before Aron dragged you away. Sorry, you mouthed at him before turning back.

You couldn’t help your face growing hot at the feeling of your wetness still sticking to your inner thighs as you parted them.

She didn’t pull you far, but you couldn’t help how pissed you felt. Granted, you weren’t really pissed at her but something was about to happen and you’d been more than happy to just let it.

Eddie was finally taking the upper hand, doing what he wanted. Not just going along with what you told him to do. There was no blind faith or overthought. No, he was showing—initiating. It was euphoric. It was nearly orgasmic…

“What’s going on?” you asked, smoothing out the hem of your dress. And as you stood there fixing yourself, you felt Aron step closer to you.

“Listen, Sam is walking around, drunk as fuck—”

“Big shock there,” you commented, crossing your arms over your chest.

Aron let out a snort. “Yeah, literally. Anyways, he’s talking about how easy you are in bed and keeps telling everyone you’re here with Eddie to make him jealous.”

Sam Covington had been a problem for…a while. Maybe since last summer, when you were…friendly with some of the frat guys’ girlfriends. Got invited out one night and Sam was there, always staring at you from any corner of the room or finding excuses to talk to you. It was fucking creepy.

It was one of those things that sent chills down your spine, the fear for your safety growing with each glance. That voice that made you want to run and hide. The touch that had you wondering if you’d remembered to grab your pepper spray and whistle.

Usually, you were able to stand your ground and hurl insults he couldn’t fathom hearing from a woman. Even the last party you’d seen him at, the one where you had met Eddie…

But it didn’t mean that you felt any more secure.

“Him? Ha!” You exaggerated your tone, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Waved your hand around, desperate to stay calm. “What a fucking joke. He wishes.”

Eddie’s blood ran cold at your mocking tone, taken aback by your blatant degradation. Like a mask had been removed, revealing a forked tongue and razor sharp teeth.

He’d seen your expression, your shoulders turning inward, like you were uncomfortable. He decided to walk over and, sure, it was probably rude. He knew that. However, he couldn’t stand to see you upset. He needed to know what was going on, pulled to you with some tether that he couldn’t explain.

But he regretted it immediately.

Aron chuckled. “If that ain’t the truth, girl.”

“He’s such a fucking loser, I swear. Can’t catch a fucking hint.”

Eddie once thought he’d let go of the anger he once held in high school. The defiant boy that was once riddled with so much frustration at the cruel hand he’d been dealt. The one that jumped up on lunch tables and screamed at whoever would listen. He thought he’d given up on holding onto the bitterness of verbal sucker punches and bruised ribs.

But it was creeping back up, that violent shaking that ran along his arms. The torment of those five brutal years of high school tingling in his fingertips as you continued to desaturate the vibrancy of a man he thought he was becoming.

“Like, why does he have to be so obsessed with you?”

You shrugged and his eyes caught the tail end of your eye roll. “Because he’s so fucking desperate for someone to fuck him. That’s why.”

And before he could stop his head from going there, he was back in that blistering July. The fear of being used goods clutching at his throat as he struggled to speak, struggled to find an escape. 

“Pathetic,” you stated, voice thick with disgust.

That scorching July. Fingers trembling on the doorknob, his sweaty palm slicking it in sweat. Slipping. 

No escape, no escape.

He needed to get out. There was no thought, just action. So, he turned and started stalking towards the front door. Voices in his head spoke over one another, flooding his brain.

Freak. Loser. Dirty. Good for nothing. Desperate. Trailer park trash.

Pathetic.

“Eddie?” he heard behind him, the sound of his name on your lips like a beckoning call, serenading him with its delicacy. 

If he didn’t have a shred of dignity left, he would’ve turned around and come running. But he didn't, instead making a run for the side of the house. Maybe if he hid, he didn’t have to face your humiliation.

And, like he said, he didn’t have to run back…because you were already catching up with him, stopping him in his tracks as you stepped in front of him. How you did that in six inch heels was fucking beyond him.

Placing a hand on his chest, you asked, “What’s wrong?” As your eyes scanned his face, you added, “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

But he knew better. 

He did, didn’t he?

“Are you using me?”

You paused, flinching away from his chest as if you’d been burned. “Excuse me?”

“Like…” Eddie started, trying to take a deep breath to keep himself level. But he was starting to falter, all shaky and desperate for you to get it the fuck over with. “Like, if we even fuck, is that it? Will the chase be over for you?”

Your face began to harden, something resembling fury clouding your features. “How fucking dare you think I’d do something like that.”

“It’s just a question!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, and I don’t appreciate you acting like I’m engaging in this relationship just to fuck you and leave.” 

His eyebrows furrowed as his nostrils flared with frustration, both of you holding mirrored expressions. But yours softened first, the edges of your snarl quivering. Shaking your head, you took another step back.

“I like you, Eddie. Okay? I’ve liked you since that first night. We’ve been on, like, three dates now? And I introduced you to my best friend, for Christ’s sake. You make me laugh but you make me so fucking soft, it drives me insane. And those late night drives make these stupid midterms worth it.”

“Oh.”

“Did I really have to spell it out?” Eddie didn’t say anything. “I mean, geez. I thought I’ve been an open book this whole time. I’ve spent practically every day with you. Every night, even. Like, why would I want to be with anyone else? And did you really need me to reiterate all of that?”

“But you told your friend that I’m—”

“What?!” you exclaimed before shaking your head. “No, that was about this frat guy, Sam. He’s been creeping on me again and is spreading fucking rumors and I am getting literally so sick and tired of it.”

The dissipated anger began to creep back up at the thought of some douchebag stalking you. Who the fuck was Sam to not take a fucking hint? And why was it becoming so increasingly hard not to run back into that party and beat the shit out of him?

“A guy’s been creeping on you? Since when?”

You sighed. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

Eddie held up a hand. “Now, hang on. I am going to worry about that, because that’s not nothing.”

“I agree, but that’s a later conversation,” you said, pushing his hand down and shaking your head. “Get to the part where you tell me why you think I’d ever say that about you.”

Eddie was the one to sigh now, pissed that you had to move on but ultimately needed to confess. “I just never thought you’d actually be into me.”

“Why?” you nearly yelled.

“I’m just a fr—”

“Ew! If you say ‘freak’, I’m legally obligated to rip your eyes straight out of your skull.”

A breath escaped his nose as he closed his eyes and tried again. “You just…you’ve dated more people than I have.”

“Based off of what?”

His eyes flew open. “What?” he asked, unsure what you meant.

“You haven’t even bothered to ask me how many people I’ve dated—or fucked, for that matter.” Eddie’s eyes widened. “I’ve had one relationship. One.”

“Really?” he whispered.

You let out a laugh that didn’t match your exhausted expression. “Yeah, for a week until she got nervous about her parents finding out and dumped me. I was sixteen.” Furrowed eyebrows returned to your face as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned towards him dramatically. “What about that, huh? How many people have you dated, Eddie?”

Two. The number was thick in his throat, his verbalization swallowed by your question being, well, rhetorical.

You paused, turning your face away from the light. But he caught your pointer finger flying up to dab your lower lash line. “Like, I’ve had sex, sure. But it’s not like I ask all those guys to fucking harass me. I honestly don’t know how that became a thing here. Like, I’m just here. I’m just trying to have fun.”

The guilt was starting to settle in his chest. “I should’ve caught that.”

“I thought you understood me,” you said before letting out a high-pitched sound of disbelief, lifting your hands and letting them fall at your sides with a loud thwack. “Like, I’m not a slut or a whore or whatever they want to say despite it being the twenty-first fucking century! And I can’t even be with you without some guy trying to—”

He heard it before he saw it. A scoff that shifted into a sob as you crouched down to your knees, only hovering above the ground by your tall heels. 

Eddie had never seen you cry, had never seen the façade so easily broken. This girl he once thought untouchable, invincible, cracking before his eyes.

Looking back to all of those moments, those numerous instances of harassment, how quick you were to send them a message. How easily it came to you, to throw your verbal and physical punches like it was nothing. Like it was a normal thing.

He’d gotten so caught up in how badass you were that he didn’t stop to think about how you felt about it. Or why it came so easily to you.

He crouched down, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I’m really sorry. That was really shitty of me.”

He felt you lean into his hand, glad that you weren’t rejecting him. It was lame, but he didn’t think he could handle your rejection right now. Especially when you were in this state. Especially when he was the reason why.

Turning to glance at him through your tears, you said, “Eddie, that really hurt my feelings.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” he said truthfully. “If it means anything, I didn’t think you were a, um, slut or whatever. I just thought maybe you didn’t want me the same way.”

You nodded, sniffling while wiping the snot away from your nose. Never once did you pull away from his touch or grow cold. “Yeah, I get that.” You paused, your eye contact starting to burn him. “I’ve never done any of the shit we’ve done with other people. I’ve only felt that comfortable with you.”

“But you’re just…” he trailed before sighing and closing his eyes. “You’re just so good at it.”

When he heard a loud laugh leaving your lips, his eyes flew open, grateful to see a smile on your face. The laugh turned into a fit of snorts, leaving him to laugh at just how adorable you were.

“Yeah, thanks,” you teased, the familiar tone giving him the ability to breathe again. “It’s a litany of porn, smut, and—” You moved your hands up to mimic the shape of a rainbow. “Imaginaaation.”

The reference got Eddie laughing again, nodding along as he replied, “You could’ve told me you’re a dominatrix on the side and, like, I would’ve believed you. Scout’s honor.”

“Good to know,” you joked.

Eddie stood back up then, shaking his head as he reached a hand out to you. “I’m an asshole.”

You lifted an eyebrow, slowly shaking your head back at him before taking his hand. “You’re more special than you think you are.”

He lifted you up, grasping your palm in his as he brought you closer to him. Your joined hands rested against his heart, faces inches apart. 

There you were, your eyes fully in view now. Watery, with makeup creasing along your waterline and smudged mascara littering your cheeks. Despite the quiet pain it caused him, he was grateful to get a glimpse at your beauty again, your attention still gutting him over and over again.

If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he could feel his guts spilling onto the concrete. And when he drew closer, it was made even worse as he felt your heart rate increase in real time.

And, god dammit, he couldn’t help himself. Eddie closed the gap and kissed you. Gently, tentatively. Let himself linger just long enough to inhale your breath before pulling back.

“My god, you’re precious,” he whispered, heart clenching with every feature you softened—the mask slipping. His eyes fell upon your lips, slightly ajar in shock.  

“Yeah?” you whispered, breath hitching when he lightly pushed you against the wall. 

Eddie’s nose skimmed your cheek, desperate to breathe in your perfume. One last whiff. He swore it. Just one more.

Just one more.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, inhaling your scent again.

It was the last time. Promise. 

“Tell me again,” you pleaded.

He pulled back, catching the clenching of your thighs in his peripheral. A dangerous smile grazed his lips as he gave you what you wanted. 

“You’re precious.”

You nodded repeatedly, doe-eyed as you begged, “Again.”

“You’re precious,” he said, hushed as his lips hovered above yours.

“Please,” you whimpered, legs squirming against his. But he pushed you further into the wall, your connected hands halting your movement. He could feel your heart racing furiously. “One more time.”

“You’re precious, baby.”

Before you could lunge at him, he was a step ahead of you, crushing your lips with his. Released your hand, quick to cup your face as you floundered to find somewhere to put your hands. Taking a page out of your book, he grabbed your wrists and placed them on his shoulders.

A sigh left your lips at the movement, nodding your head as you pushed your tongue into his mouth. What you were nodding about, he had no idea. He didn’t have the ability to have thoughts about anything anymore. 

All he could think was more, more, more.

All he could feel was you.

He couldn’t help himself when he slotted his thigh between yours, earning a deafening moan that made him harder than he already was. You’d moaned, sure. He’d heard you do it plenty of times when you made out. But he was suddenly struck with how different your positions were now. And how he was the reason for it. 

The thought drove him closer to the edge, roughly grabbing at your cheek with one hand while the other slid down your thigh, snaking around your knee and jerking your leg up to his hip. Your gasp made him even crazier, unable to help it when he pushed his thigh further against your core. Another wild whimper, this time with an edge of impatience.

“This okay?” he asked.

You nodded furiously. “Yes. Yes.”

If Eddie had the confidence, he’d take you against this house right now. He’d slide into you with ease, Fucking those little sounds out of you, the ones he dreamed about at night. The ones that would mirror the way you sounded right now, only intensified and louder. 

And yet it was enough to hear your now quiet desperation, to feel your thighs clench around his leg, your soaking pussy dripping through your panties and staining his jeans with ease.

“Jesus, you’re soaked.”

You nodded furiously, seemingly unable to speak as you gasped and chased his lips again. Ground your pussy against his leg. Impatient, hungry.

He couldn’t help but feel greedy, draping himself around you.

Let there be witnesses. Let the whole house hear him, he didn’t care. But those noises, your noises, belonged solely to him. Swallowed by his mouth, muffled by his body shielding yours. The vibrations pulsed through his cheeks and he couldn’t help but let out a low groan.

He noticed you continuing to chase the friction, rubbing yourself along the denim over and over, his jeans being ruined with every rut of your hips. If Eddie hadn’t been drunk off of you before, he was deliriously faded now. Because you were still going, no words leaving your mouth. Just whimpers and moans.

He wanted to say something, wanted to beg you to keep going. But he stayed quiet, knowing that you’d probably stop, keeping yourself from the pleasure he was witnessing. You looked like a goddess, eyes rolling back and, dear god, he needed to mark your neck again. He dipped his head down and began nipping at your skin again, frenzied at the reaction it pulled out of you.

The hitch in your breath caught his attention, moving his face from your neck to see your head thrown back. Your heaving chest was the indicator, the slow build of something beginning inside you. 

“Do it,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Without any warning, he felt your legs tremble before your cum seeped into his jeans. A cry left your lips as your breath continued at a rapid pace, sweat dripping down your neck. Eddie was quick to lick it up, trying hard not to get on his knees and lap up what was left from the source.

(He was just glad he had enough restraint to resist begging for your underwear to keep for later.)

(The one time he’s able to keep his mouth shut.)

One last whimper left your lips as you came down, chasing the last of your high on his leg before he moved it out of the way. Left a gentle kiss on your forehead before he heard you sniffle.

“S-sorry,” you breathed, tightly squeezing your eyes shut. He came back to the present, leaning back as he watched your face crumble. “Sorry.”

Eddie took your chin between his fingers. “Hey, open your eyes. Look at me.”

At first, you only opened one, like you were testing the waters. He chuckled, earning access to your other eye. “There she is,” he murmured, pecking your nose. “Why’re you apologizing?”

“‘Cause I didn’t ask you if it was okay if I did that.” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you pushed his fingers away, covering your mouth with your hand. Shook your head as you added, “I didn’t ask. I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“Baby, I would’ve stopped you.” He moved your hand away, lightly stroking your cheek as he continued. “I was honestly scared you would stop.”

Your head cocked towards his, glassy eyes turned clear again. “Why?”

“‘Cause then I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum.”

A bashful expression immediately fell over your features, shoulders caving inwards as you bit your lip. You tapped your heels against the concrete, one by one, all jittery and shy. It was cute.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on that, either,” you said. “But you just…”

“Hm?”

You shrugged, sighing. “You kinda fucked with my head.”

“Does that mean I get to finally fuck you?”

Tapping at your cheek, you looked away in feigned contemplation before shaking your head. “Nope. I think I’ll make you work harder to get to see it.”

“Nah, I could prove it right now,” he insisted, getting down on both knees.

You became flustered, looking at your surroundings before back down at him. “Eddie, no.”

He put his hands in a praying position and tried to puppy-dog eye you. “Trust me, I can make you do that, like, five more times right now.”

“Eddie—”

“And that’s just with my tongue.”

“Oh my God. Get up,” you said with a laugh, tugging him to stand back up. “We’re not doing this in public.”

Eddie snorted, a goofy smile meeting his lips. “Well, technically we already—”

“There you guys are!” 

Aron’s voice snapped you both out of your delirium, bringing you back to where you were.

“Oh, ew!” she nearly screeched, eyes wide as she stared at Eddie’s jeans. “We’re in public, guys. Come on.” 

When you both looked down, you saw your cum glistening across his jeans. 

“I’m sorry!” you said at the same time Eddie said, “I’m not sorry!”

You immediately gawked at him and he couldn’t have enjoyed any reaction more. His smirk said it all, earning a quick whack to his shoulder. 

“You’re both so horny on main. I’m never letting you out of my sight at a party ever again.”

thank yew for the divider @strangergraphics