#she’d be that kind of gal

[sapphire-to-the-rain]

btw hc nymphia would wear her bangs in a hair roller before going to bed. and it would look like this

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[muffinlance]

The feral cat gator of a 13 year old freshly scarred Zuko being forcibly adopted by the foggy swamp tribe! Bonus points if they willfully ignore the fact he's a firebender and treat him as a very strange waterbender bending-wise

It was Earth Kingdom ships that drove the metal one onto the reefs, so when the little thing came crawling up through the marsh spitting and hissing and dressed in red, they knew it weren’t no earthbender. No matter how much mud it had tripped in, trying to find where the ground stopped sucking at its feet.

“Wow-ee,” said Old Earl, “that sure is one way of keepin’ off the ‘squito-chiggers.”

And they all watched from Big Earl’s porch, sitting or rocking, as them bugs came for the all-you-can-eat and ended up on the bar-b-que.

“Sure is some weird bending,” said Little Earl, who was taller than Big Earl, but when they'd been twelve and they’d wrestled for the title it hadn't been Little Earl who’d won.

The little thing looked maybe twelve, too. And he was little little. But he had that same look like he was going to shove someone’s face in the mud until they said otherwise, as he stood there all panting and dripping and just realizing they’d been watching him this whole time.

“It’s firebending,” the one-kid mud-wrestler said, as bugs kept pop-snapping into flames around him.

Old Earl cupped a hand over his ear, like he couldn’t hear. And he kept doing it, while the kid got louder and louder about that bending of his, but quieter and quieter about looking at them like they were his next bugs.

“Oh, firebending,” Old Earl said, nodding like he’d only just got it, when the kid had stomped straight up to his chair. “Right, right, Old Jane’s got fire-water-bending, too. Why don’t you take him to her, boys.”

“It’s not-- ugh,” shouted the kid, but maybe he only had the one volume. Certainly only had the one volume for stomping, even though stomping was what got a fellow’s shoes shoved down so deep in the mud they’d be seeing them again as mole-shrimp hats. Not that the kid had shoes. Neither did Earl, Earl, or Earl. ‘Cept for Fancy Earl, but he’d gone off to Ba-Singing-Se, to be fancy.

Anyway, Old Jane was the best at turning anything and everything into fire water, which was the kind of thing a fellow called his or her liquor when they wanted fancy folk to keep right on walking. Was really good for making shouty little firebrands take their naps, too, which let Old Jane get her glowing mitts all over that fresh burn of his. And the love-bites from the shark-wrasses that had probably been half the reason the kid had come a-shore all a-shouting in the first place.

“Nope,” diagnosed Old Jane, when the kid woke back up. “That’s just how he talks. Mother was a screamer-bird, I’d say.”

“You take that back about my mother,” screamed their screamer-bird, who had pretty good hearing for someone who’s ear had lost the same fight as his eye. Anyway, Old Jane had done the best she could about both, and nothing was on fire that shouldn’t be, and she had that extra quilt she’d been working on that needed a body under it

And the waves and the shark-wrasses had all the rest of the kid’s crew

So sure enough they set their little screamer-bird up with a nest and let him cry loud as he wanted.

Anyway, if there was one thing Earl Earl Earl and Jane knew, it was how to make a joke so good the other person didn’t even know it were a joke.

“Firebending,” their little fledgling shouted, and waved his arms around, like all that fire pointed at no one was going to get them startled off.

“A-yep,” nodded Old Earl. “That there is some fire-water-bending. Just like Old Jane.”

Old Jane wasn’t the kind of gal who showed off, but she wasn’t the kind who missed no cue, either. She swirled a lick o’ liquor out of her latest barrel and twirled it ‘round and straight into her mouth, and when she spit it out, it looked so much like the little bird’s breath-o’-fire that he didn’t even notice the spark rocks she kept on her fingers as jewelry. No one did, ‘til they’d seen the trick a few times.

The kid’s mouth hung open so low and so long, a moth-tick flew in. That was some kind of life lesson, that was. The swamp was good at sending those.

The Earth Kingdom sent troops a-stompin’ through, losing boots and scaring catigators out of their sunning spots left and right, askin’ all rumbly about those fires they’d spotted, and if anyone from that shipwreck had made it on shore, and talkin’ about how there’d be money in it for them if they made that last answer a “yes,” sounding like Fancy Earl and all his talk about commerce and living standards.

“Got a few parts of them ship people in the lagoon,” Big Earl said. “Probably still floatin’ if you want ‘em. But we better bring the shrimp-minnow nets, ‘cuase they’ll just slosh on through the turtle-sturgeon ones.”

“...No thank you,” the head stomper said, like sayin’ polite words made a fellow a polite man. He’d tracked those boots of his right up onto their porch without so much as a scuff on their mud rug. Even the kid had used the mud rug. “And the fire?”

“Oh,” said Little Earl, with a grin, “that was Old Jane.”

And she did her trick again, only less tricky, so they could see the spark rocks real good. “You boys want some fire water?” she offered. “It ain’t blinded no one who wasn’t already headed that way.”

They didn’t want any, which was grand, ‘cause she hadn’t really been offering.

When the last of them had gone stomping off back to the kind of land that let people stomp it, it took them two whole hours to lure out the catigators from under the porch. And their little screamer bird, too.

“...Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“What?” asked Old Earl, cupping his ear.

“Why—”

“What?”

“—didn’t—”

“WHAT?”

“—you—”

“Speak up, boy,” Old Earl said. “I never heard such a quiet child.”

And boy, did that set their bird back to singing.

[gurugirl]

Truth or Dare | slumber party!h

Summary: Y/n's coworker, Harry, has never been to a slumber party so she decides to remedy that and give him a sleepover he'll never forget.

A/N: Based off this request. Thanks anon! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6,752

Warning: smut

. . .

By her third glass of chardonnay, her stomach was feeling the acid from the wine but she was having such a good time talking to Harry from the operations department that she didn’t care. She’d have another before calling it a night. Just one more glass so she could sit with him a little longer and listen to him talk and watch as he ran his finger along the edge of his pint glass.

He was probably looking at her like he was because he was also three pints of lager in and he was kind so he was holding eye contact to be polite. Certainly, it wasn’t because he found her attractive (though she’d have welcomed that).

The company’s management meeting was long over and everyone else had gone home but Harry and Y/n stayed for another round. They rarely ever got to talk at the office. She’d always wanted to pick his brain about why he decided to move to the US and how, of all companies, he chose to work at Dunn Services.

Y/n laughed on cue as he mentioned something from his childhood with his sister having her friends over to stay the night. He grinned, a healthy row of teeth aimed at her before he looked down and laughed at himself, “In truth? I never did have a sleepover or anything like that.”

“Really? Surely you had friends…”

Harry nodded, “Oh yeah I had a lot of friends. But I never stayed over at anyone’s and they never came over to mine either. Just… I don’t know. Never happened.”

Placing her nearly empty glass down she turned and waved with a smile as the waitress walked by, “Can we get another round, please?”

“How are you getting home?” Harry asked when she faced him, crossing her leg over her knee toward him.

“Taxi. You?”

“Might walk. I’m not far from here.”

Nodding she placed her elbows on the table, “So, I think that you’ve missed out on an integral right of passage, having never had a slumber party. You should definitely remedy that at some point. I highly recommend a fun sleepover. In fact, if you need pointers on what to do during a sleepover, I’m your gal.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your go-to during a slumber party?” Harry teased before taking another sip of his beer.

“Well, I think there are like two main components. The first is entertainment and I’m always keen on a good movie, or a dumb one, either way… a movie for sure if I’m picking. Some people like to play board games or whatever, but I like to stuff myself into a pile of blankets and pillows and just lie, or drape,” she spoke using her arms to demonstrate herself draping into pillows. “Occasionally, if the mood is right, I’ll enjoy a little truth or dare.”

“Got it. A movie and maybe if the mood is right, truth or dare. And what’s the second component.”

Y/n crossed her fingers together and raised her brows as if she were about to say something very important, “Snacks. Beverages. Good ones. Usually just small bites but here’s my list…” She cleared her throat, “Buttered popcorn, and possibly potato chips. Definitely something chocolatey, and maybe something like a cookie or a snack cake. If not potato chips then tortilla chips and if it’s tortilla chips, salsa should also definitely be on the menu.”

Harry held back the laugh in his throat as he nodded, “Wow. Okay. What about like a burger or Chinese food? Would that be allowed?”

Y/n shrugged, “It’s your party. You can do what you want. I’m just telling you what I’d do and what would be a hit with your sleepover buddy.”

Harry breathed out a laugh. Y/n could tell he was getting bashful. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. She watched him for a few seconds before the waitress returned with their drinks.

A quick gulp of wine and she nudged at his shin with her shoe, “You wanna have a slumber party with me?”

Harry blinked and tilted his head, “What? You mean… Seriously?”

She shrugged, “Why not? Then next time someone asks if you’ve ever had a proper slumber party you can say that you have.”

He laughed loudly, his husky voice was like music to her ears. Pointing at her with his finger he grinned, “Now how I can argue with that? I mean,” he shook his head, a glint in his eye, “Every time someone asks me if I’ve been to a slumber party and I tell them I haven’t, it’s such a disappointment! The look on their faces when they realize my whole childhood was a sham…”

They both laughed, leaning in toward one another, tittering toward the edges of their stools.

Harry tilted his head, “Actually I think it sounds fun. You just name the day and I’ll be there.”

Y/n smiled at him. She knew it was crazy. Having a grown man at her place for a slumber party. Typically adults didn’t have those kinds of sleepovers – it was usually with the intent of something far more salacious. But she’d show him a good time, she thought, raising her glass toward his, “Deal.”

.                 .                 .

Y/n had her sofa bed pulled out and piled high with extra blankets and pillows. She had all her favorite snacks plus she ordered cheeseburgers and fries for the guest of the night. It was silly. Truly she hadn’t had a real slumber party in ages, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit of excitement that she’d be hanging out with Harry all night. It was possible that her small crush on him was making her feel all giddy but she’d push down that feeling until he gave her any extenuating signals.

Because the truth was that they were both single, young adults and this was such an unlikely scenario. No one would look at this and say Oh how cute of these two grown adults hanging out in bed together for a sleepover. So innocent! No, she knew better. While maybe nothing would actually happen it certainly wouldn’t look innocent.

And of course, she did pick out the perfect pijama set. Something a little more flattering on her body but not too hey I really need to get laid tonight. It was a happy compromise. Cotton shorts and a button-up, matching short-sleeved top. This was just supposed to be a slumber party after all.

Right?

Besides, the little paper invitation she gave him on Monday morning told him to arrive in his sleepwear so she had to look the part. And not to toot her own horn but she made a very cute invitation just for him tucked into a pink envelope with a separate little response card that had space at the bottom for him to mark yes or no if he could come. It was a yes. Obviously.

When Harry finally arrived he was wearing a pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt. And for some fucking bizarre reason he looked so much hotter than he did when he wore his well-fitted suits at work.

Because goddamn did his shirt somehow just hug his torso in all the right spots and it allowed her to take a good look at all tattoos on his arms that were normally hidden under brushed wool jackets or long-sleeved button-up shirts. She knew he had tattoos. She’d seen him roll up his sleeves a couple of times but she never wanted to be rude and stare for long.

And then the sweatpants, while loose in the legs, fit his waist and hips and…

“You okay?” Harry was still standing in the doorway with his backpack draped over his arm waiting to be invited in.

“Yeah, sorry. Not used to seeing you dressed down like this. Almost unrecognizable.”

Harry let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling as Y/n stepped aside to let him in, “Would you like to see my ID? Swear I’m the Harry Styles, the guy you invited over for chips, popcorn, and truth or dare. I’ve even got your invite somewhere in my bag…”

She breathed a laugh through her nose and watched him enter into her space, “Movies too. Oh, and I also ordered cheeseburgers. Remembered that you mentioned that.”

He seemed quite pleased with the burgers as she handed him the bag. She got those small ones, five to an order, “Thanks. Fries too, huh?” He reached into the bag and pulled out three crinkle-cut french fries then stuffed them into his mouth.

“So should we settle in and pick out a movie?” She gestured toward her couch.

Harry had seen the pull-out couch with heaps of pillows and blankets when he walked in. He knew that that would be where they’d be spending most of the evening. It was the glaring thing about the whole slumber party slash sleepover. That they’d be probably sleeping next to one another. As two young, healthy, attractive adults.

“Sure,” he nodded and waited for her to pick which side she was going to take before climbing in next to her, the thin mattress and metal frame giving way gently under his weight before he leaned back against a mountain of pillows, bag of burgers safe in his hands.

Y/n had a few video streaming services at the ready and they settled on a cheesy comedy from the late 90s before Y/n reached over to her coffee table and then lined up all the snacks between them.

They chatted a little, having both seen the movie already. Topics were anything from what their plans were for the rest of the weekend to what they’d eaten for lunch at work. And it was only a little awkward when they both reached into the bowl of M&M’s at the same time, fingers brushing together.

Harry moved his hand away, “Sorry. You go…”

Y/n grinned at him, scooping a handful of candy into her palm, and then sat up, adjusting her seating as she crossed her legs together, “Wanna do truth or dare? Pretend like we’re 15 again having a sleepover. Really get into the whole slumber party vibe, ya know?”

Harry dug out a few M&M’s and let out a chesty laugh, “If I’m 15 again we’re in big trouble.”

Y/n snorted a laugh, “Why? What do you mean?”

He shook his head, a wide grin on his face with deep set dimples carved into each cheek as he turned his head to look at her, “If this were happening when I was 15 I’d already be in the bathroom hyperventilating and probably trying to will away a boner after our hands touched in the M&M’s bowl.”

Y/n guffawed and threw her head back, nearly choking on her bite of chocolatey candies as Harry laughed with her. Honestly, it was the best icebreaker she could have asked for. Things had been kind of clunky between them up until that moment as they were still trying to navigate how to act around one another. And she knew he was teasing but the good belly laugh that she got from Harry’s story was exactly what they needed.

“Okay fine. We’ll just keep going about it as adults then. No fifteen-year-olds here tonight,” Y/n chuckled as she shoveled a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth.

Y/n kept her eyes on him as she chewed her mouthful, “So truth or dare?”

Harry cocked his head at her, “So the mood is right then? For truth or dare?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed, “The mood?”

“Yeah. You said it over drinks. Remember when you were telling me what the most important components are to a sleepover and you said you liked truth or dare if the mood was right.”

Nodding slowly, she thought back to what she’d said, “Yeah. I guess I did say that. And I mean… I think the mood’s right for a little truth or dare. Movie’s almost over and you just pretty much kicked us off with that truth.” A breathy laugh was pushed from her mouth.

She could tell Harry was mulling on another question as he bit the inside of his cheek, head tilting in agreement, “So that means it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

Biting her lip as she pondered, she pressed her back into the soft pillows behind her, “Truth.”

Harry shifted to his side, long legs stretching the length of the mattress as he propped his head up in his hand, a pillow under his arm, “Have you ever kissed a co-worker before?”

Scoffing Y/n moved to her side, mimicking Harry’s position on her side, “No,” she grinned. It was true. She’d never once done anything with any of her coworkers. Having Harry over at her house was the closest she’d ever gotten to doing anything like that. “Now you. Truth or dare?”

His green eyes slid over her features, “Truth.”

She laughed to herself, trying to think of something funny, “How many stuffed animals do you own?”

Licking his lips he nodded, “Think maybe two? Gifts from my niece… Truth or dare?”

“Mmm… dare,” she giggled.

Harry lifted a brow, “Ahhh… feeling bold yeah? Okay… hmm…” He pursed his lips to the side as he considered the dare. “Read to me the last text you sent to anyone. And you have to show me to prove it was the last one. And it can’t be any texts you and me, cause that’s not fair.”

Y/n blinked. She wasn’t exactly sure what her last text was besides Harry. But she was slightly worried because if it was what she was thinking… lifting up her message app she scrolled down to the text thread below Harry’s and it was a text with her sister. Which was what she had been worried about. She gulped, hoping that the things she said about her “coworker” who was coming to stay with her weren’t the last things she and her sister texted about.

Puffing out a breath she covered up all the previous texts to show Harry the last text from her sister – God knows you need it. Sending you good vibes, sis ;)

Harry squinted as he looked at the message and pointed, “That’s to you. The dare was to show me the last text you sent to someone. Let’s see it…”

Feeling her neck heat up she angled the phone away from him and read what she’d sent her sister. And there was no mention of Harry but if he were even halfway decent at picking up clues he might be able to figure out what was being discussed prior.

She shook her head and looked up at him. She couldn’t believe she was about to show him what was on her screen. But a dare was a dare. What was the worst that could happen?

lol I doubt anything will happen but I wouldn’t turn him down. Got condoms just in case 😜 send all your good vibes my way

Harry’s brows squished together as he looked at the text and back to Y/n and then down again at the words on her screen. She saw his throat bob and she knew the look on his face. He fucking knew what that was. He had to know.

She had to look away. She pulled the phone down and killed the screen. The awkwardness between them thick and uncomfortable as she peeked back at him. The edge of his mouth was pulled upward in a smirk, “That’s to your sister?”

Nodding she blew out an exasperated breath, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry grinned as he positioned his knee closer to Y/n, his eyes still on hers, “Dare.”

Swallowing her embarrassment down the best she could she decided to ask him the same, “Now show me the last text you sent anyone besides me.”

Harry’s smartass grin told her all she needed to know. That his last text probably wasn’t nearly as risqué as hers.

And it wasn’t. Not even close.

You can have two pounds for free. I’ve got so many growing I can’t keep up. As long as you come to pick them up on Monday they’re yours.

“I have a bunch of zucchini growing in my garden,” Harry pulled the phone away and laid it down next to his hip. “Got a neighbor who wants some.”

Of course, his last text to anyone was about zucchini. Jesus, she was so far out of her depth.

He was still wearing that shit-eating grin as he said, “Truth or dare, Y/n?”

And the way he said her name, all slow and sexy-like had her insides heating up. Well, maybe she made up the sexy part but he was definitely teasing her. She could just feel it.

“Truth.”

She was sure she’d regret that. Truth or dare. It didn’t matter. She was still reeling from showing him her texts.

“Was that text about me?” Shit-eating grin in place as he asked. Fucker.

Y/n’s eyes grew wide dropping her mouth open in surprise. Of course, he was going to ask that. Of course!

“Oh come on, Harry…” she pleaded.

He lifted his brows and awarded her a larger grin with those cute indents scoring into his cheeks, “Them’s the rules, baby. You chose truth and now you have to be honest.”

Clearing her throat she sat up to her bottom and leaned forward so she didn’t have to look at him as she put her head in her hands and laughed in disbelief, “Jesus. Seriously?”

“Yep. Spill. Let’s hear it.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. It was about you.”

Keeping her eyes on her lap she waited for a smug remark. Some kind of teasing reply but it was quiet. Slowly she turned to look back at him and he was still lying on his side, head in his palm as he watched her, his eyes fixed to hers.

She shrugged, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry flattened his lips and squinted at her before cocking his head, “Hold on… Really? That was about me?”

Sighing she rolled her eyes, “Yes. Sorry. I was… it was just funny… it was me joking around with my sister is all.”

He blinked and looked down at the space between them as he nodded, “Okay. I see. So you didn’t actually mean it?”

“Well… I guess… We were joking. Obviously, nothing has to happen. I would never expect that. I…” she breathed out exasperated.

“Obviously nothing has to happen. Did you want it to happen?” His pupils were pinned to hers again.

Opening her mouth she stopped herself for a moment. She knew her answer was yes but she didn’t want to come off like a creep. She hadn’t expected it and assumed it wouldn’t. But the truth remained; she hoped it would happen.

Deflating her posture she laid back to her side to face Harry, tucking a pillow into her chest, “The truth is that I think you’re attractive and I haven’t been with anyone in kind of a long time and… she knows that, my sister. So we were just… it was lighthearted but yeah I mean… without any expectations, cause I would never… I hope you know that. But I did think it would be nice.”

“Nice. Yeah. I agree. It would be nice. And just so you know,” he swung his head to look over his shoulder before looking back at her, “I brought condoms as well. You know… just in case.”

She was a bit stunned at that. Was he…

“Dare me to kiss you,” he grinned, irises dropping to her lips for a second before looking back into her eyes.

She laughed, “That’s not how the game works. The rules are you can’t–”

“Fuck the rules. Dare me to kiss you.”

Shaking her head with a wide smile stretched across her face she felt like her skin was pricking as her heartbeat picked up. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Looking back into his eyes she inhaled deeply, “Fine. I dare you to kiss me.”

Harry’s smirk was unreal. The way he dragged his gaze over her face and down to her mouth was almost lewd, “Didn’t need to play truth or dare to get me to kiss you, Y/n,” he scooted in, grabbing the pillow she had tucked into her chest and tossing it away before he drew a hand up to her face, “You just needed to ask.”

She held her breath as he closed in slowly until it was as if all the tension in the room had popped and fizzled when his lips met hers.

He was so soft and gentle. Lips winding easily, carefully at first. And then she parted her lips more, kissing him back and letting her mouth press into his bottom lip before their tongues were meshed.

She moved her knee out to stabilize herself and knocked over the bowl of popcorn between them. Laughing into his mouth she gasped as she parted from him but he only reached for her again, placing his palm at the back of her head to pull her mouth back against his with a grunt from his chest as he pushed the bowl away and drove his arm underneath her side to keep her from getting too far.

Harry was softly moaning as his tongue worked its way into her mouth gently. It was clear he’d wanted to kiss her. That he liked it. And that notion made her head spin combined with the feel of his thumb traveling over her jaw. There was not going to be any stopping the momentum that had begun.

Well, except for when the bowl of M&M’s poured out against her leg. She had to push at him. As much as she would have loved to have kept making out, she would not have been able to enjoy melted chocolate on her legs or the bedsheets tucked around the mattress (think of the scrubbing she’d need to do!).

“Sorry,” she panted and looked down at the smashed pieces of popcorn and the chocolate candies strewn between them, “I’ve gotta pick this up. Our body heat will melt all these and it’s gonna be a big mess.”

Harry grinned, “Why don’t we just move this party to your bed for a little bit? Clean up later? The M&M’s won’t melt if we’re not laying on them.”

She laughed, already feeling overwhelmed and overheated from the kiss and now he was suggesting taking it to her bed? This was really happening, wasn’t it? She nodded and they both moved off the sofa sleeper to their feet, Harry following behind Y/n as she led him to her bedroom.

She already had her bedside lamp on. Bed made perfectly, everything tucked in and neat.

She turned to look at him and he stepped against her, palm splaying at her low back, “I dare you to get onto your bed and take your clothes off.”

A small laugh burst from her chest, “Oh, so now we’re just doing dares?”

He nodded, “Making up our own rules for this game. S’more fun this way.”

Letting go of her he watched as she stepped backward toward her bed and began to unbutton her nightshirt until it was shed from her body before she pushed her shorts down her legs. She was left in a pretty white bralette (something soft for bedtime) that stretched around her breasts and a pair of thin cotton panties that matched. She kneed up onto her bed and let her feet dangle off the edge and pointed, “Now I dare you to take off your clothes.”

He peeled his white t-shirt off, his hair mussing in the process. She watched with her lips parted at the gorgeous man stripping before her. Not only was he built exactly like what she dreamed of (tattoos, beefy, muscular, a touch soft, very masculine) but the boner tenting his sweats was hard not to home in on.

Harry stuck his fingers into the waistband and looked up at her, “M’not wearing any underwear, so be warned…”

She swallowed as the material lowered, belly button, happy trail, a bit of dark hair and then he pulled the stretchy waistband away from his body so his cock could push free and she was already clenching at just the sight as he removed his sweatpants, cock full and heavy between his strong thighs.

Jesus Christ.

Harry stepped forward, nudging himself between her knees and she leaned back to look up at him, “I dare you to take off the rest of this. Since I’m completely naked feels only fair.”

She bit her lip and looked down at his girthy dick. He was clearly not shy of his body, standing there like that, cock right in front of her. But why should he be shy when he looked like that?

Scooting back further into the bed she got up to her knees and pulled the bralette off first, feeling the heat of his gaze on her tits as she then slid her panties down her thighs. She wasn’t nearly as confident as Harry was as she quickly pulled at her top blanket and covered herself with a small laugh.

Harry stepped forward, one knee on the mattress before climbing in next to her, nosing at her cheek softly before his lips were connected to hers again. And she melted into him just like before. His mouth was magic or something because before she realized it, he’d pulled the blankets off her body and he had a big palm sliding up her thigh and over her hip, “Don’t cover up. So pretty. Knew you would be.”

She pushed her fingers into his thick wavey hair and felt her side hit the mattress as Harry pulled at her again, mouth still smeared against hers. He grabbed at her thigh, hitching it over his hip as he tucked in closer and it was warm and she could feel it. Feel him against her hip.

His giant hand smoothed against her bottom and up her spine until he was wrapping his long fingers around the back of her neck. Y/n nudged in closer, driving her hips forward until she was practically straddling him. So Harry took that as his cue to move to his back, taking her hips in his hands so she’d follow with him.

It had caught her off guard, the sudden change in position but her lips never stopped moving with his. Their kisses were wet and she could smell their saliva, and a touch of onion even from the burgers he’d eaten.

He guided her hips down, his thick cock hot under her thigh until she felt her pussy drag against warm skin at the base of his dick. A small gasp escaped her mouth as he pulled her up, letting her pussy glide up his length, “So wet already, Y/n…”

She was. It was embarrassing. Every inch of his shaft her pussy dragged against, coated him, wetted his skin. He kept pushing and pulling at her hips, using her slippery pussy like a soft wet toy he could run up and down his length.

Then she felt his fingers move around to her backside, digits sliding against her pussy as he licked into her mouth.

Gently she rolled against him and when she moved herself further down he pushed a fingertip inside, “Go on. Fuck yourself on my finger a little bit,” he whispered against her mouth.

He was filthy. She had no idea. He’d always been so sweet at work. So polite and respectful. But here he was reaching around her ass to get a finger inside of her cunt as she rubbed her pussy over his cock.

She panted into his mouth as she slid down around his finger, her clit smushed into his dick, slippery as she rolled up and down. But then he began to assist as he added another finger and began to fuck into her pussy, letting his digits curve into her the best he could from his angle. Slushy wet, she stopped moving her hips and parted from the kiss as she looked down at him. She could tell she was gushing all over his palm and probably his dick as she moaned.

“S’that feel good. You’re gettin’ my fingers all wet like it feels good.”

Nodding she gasped, “Yeah. Feels so good…”

Harry rutted up against her, his cock still pressed into her clit, and she panted, eyes still searing into his. She didn’t want to look away. She almost couldn’t believe he was in her bed fingering her like that.

“Your turn to dare me to do something. What do you want, Y/n?”

She moaned and closed her eyes. She was certain of what she wanted as she listened to the way his fingers gushed with each plunge into her.

“Fuck… dare you to… put on a condom.”

She popped her eyes open to peer down at him as he slid his fingers out of her, wiping her arousal on her ass, “They right here?” He moved his hand toward her bedside table, a knuckle tapping at the wood.

Climbing off of him she opened the drawer, “Yeah, a whole box. Hold on…”

Reaching over to pull out the condoms she felt Harry’s hands on her hips as he moved to sit up, then his lips were on her back, dotting warm kisses to her shoulder blades as she finally plucked a condom from the fresh box.

She watched him put the condom on and as expected, it didn’t cover his entire length. He was kind of a big guy. Well, maybe there was no kind of about it. Before today she had no idea he was packing like that. Though he always did come off as very confident and sure of himself.

She bit her lip as she watched him toss the wrapper away and then he kneed up to her, arm sliding to her back and carefully lowering her to the bed before spreading her legs apart as he fit himself there, sturdy thighs pushing against her soft ones.

“Gonna tell your sister her good vibes worked?” He smirked down at her, hands scouring her hips and tummy and then kneading softly at her tits.

Y/n laughed and reached a hand down to his knee before he pulled at her, making her thighs drape over his as he inched in closer.

“Hmm?” He was awfully teasing, she thought, grinning at her waiting for an answer.

“Probably,” she spit out in a laugh.  

Harry gripped at her thighs, lifting her a bit more to fit her bum over his bent knees and she wanted to scream in embarrassment when she realized he was inspecting her sodden vulva. She’d gotten herself all tidied up for him, should anything like this happen, so at least she had that going for her.

He smoothed his thumb through her pussylips, spreading them apart, and softly blew out a breath, “That is very pretty. Think we get him in there?”

She rolled her eyes as she watched him wrap his palm around his base and lay his fat cock over her mons, the condomed-tip reaching to her belly button, maybe further past, “Well, it’s made for it, so I’m pretty sure–”

“What… your pussy’s made to fit around my cock?” A cocky dimpled smirk gave way to a laugh.

“You know what I meant. It’s meant to… like…” she breathed out a laugh.

“Oh, I know… just fucking with you, Y/n.”

He gazed at her as he reared back, painting his cockhead through her labia, up and down, a soft bump into her clit before he repeated, spreading her soft lips apart as he watched the way his crown smeared her arousal between her creases.

When she moaned and wiggled her hips he pointed himself right at her little muscle, nudging softly forward, opening it up for himself. And she felt that first push, the way his tip fit into her, spreading apart and then stretching to accommodate his circumference.

“Oh god…” she breathed as he slipped in halfway and then pulled back.

“Almost there,” he panted as he kept his eyes on where they were connected, pushing and pulling back until she was swallowing him whole, his cock enveloped in her soft, warm pussy.

When he’d buried in whole, he moaned and watched her face twist up in ecstasy. Her lips were dropped open and her neck stretched long as she grasped onto the forearm of the hand he had gripping her waist.

Slowly he began to thrust, viscous liquid seeping from her pussy and sticking to his shaft. It was filthy. She was so wet that every time he bottomed out there was a splat and a plap sounding between them.

She let out a deep moan and her lips curled up, humid breath escaping her mouth as she felt him driving into her guts. He was taking it easy. Languidly fucking into her with wet claps every time he plunged in.

When her cunt was taking him easier and she was dripping down to her ass he moved in a little harder, faster. Angling himself over her, a palm down on the mattress so he could work into her with more gusto.

“Ah! Harry…” she squeaked at the stronger thrusts and clung onto his lats. He was panting, lips parted and pink, a curl falling over his forehead as he plowed into her splooshing pussy.

“Fuck you’re wet. Pussy is gushing, Y/n…”

Her brows pushed together as she gasped, her body knocked upward every time his hips met hers making her tits bounce. Harry didn’t know where to keep his focus. He loved watching his cock disappear into her hole but he kind of liked being right over her so he could see her face crinkle up every time he bottomed out and then her pretty breasts sway up and down. Or maybe he’d like to fuck her from behind, watch her ass jiggle as he pounded into her.

“Mmm… fuck that’s big!”

Harry groaned, “Yeah? Sure know how to sweet talk a man don’t you, pretty? S’hurt?”

She watched his face, a lusty grin, droopy eyelids as he continued muscling his way in deep.

She hissed when he bucked in, as if he was showing off just how deep he could push in and she coughed out, “Mmm… a little!”

Harry was going to lose his mind with her if she kept squeaking out moans and splatting around his cock like she was but he would be a gentleman and pull back a touch. Slowing down a little he sat up and moved his hand between them, smushing his thumb into her clit, which was so sticky wet even that swished and slid under the pad of his digit.

“Yessss…” she breathed out before murmuring on about how good it felt. “Oh fuck, that’s it. Oh god… please don’t stop… Harry, fuck, yes…”

The clit. The magical little nob that worked wonders as long as the man knew where to find it. Clearly, Harry knew right where it was. Knew how to circle over it, pressing against it just right. Knew how to fuck into her as well. Sliding his length through her vaginal walls, spreading her open, and grazing against her gummy little spot on the inside that had her buzzing and liquifying for him.

He watched her whine and squirm under him, loving how she was so into it. God that was an ego boost, “Like that, Y/n? Gonna come for me? Yeah?”

Her ears were already ringing when she lost herself, gripping around him and crying out as her orgasm washed through her tummy. Harry’s cock made her feel so full, so incredibly stuffed to the brim that it weighed her down and she could hardly move as he bulldozed into her, the pad of his thick thumb smushing fast circles over her throbbing nub.

Fucking her through it he gasped at how she spasmed and milked around him, her pussy trying to siphon his come right through his condom. But Harry wouldn’t come just yet. He had something to prove. Wanted to make a show of his prowess and give her something to tell her sister about.

So when she was finally calmed and her pussy wasn’t clamping around him like a vice grip he slid his hand under her head and kissed her gently, speaking low and soft against her lips, “Gonna have you flip over, okay? Just need a little more yeah?”

When he parted from the kiss she blinked up at him, fluttering lashes and out of breath, “You didn’t come?”

He shook his head, pulling himself out, gently before he placed his hands on her hips, “Not yet. I will soon, though. M’right on the edge. Won’t take me long.”

She rolled to her side as he lifted her hips and helped her get to her tummy. She felt his hands on her ass, squeezing and rubbing each meaty globe in his big palms. Then he was straddling her thighs as he spread her gently and she felt him push his thick tip back into her pussy, sharp and hot. It was tighter, felt a lot fuller like that as he began driving in deep and then pulling out to his tip, before plowing back into the hilt.

His moans grew louder and, even he could admit, sounded quite whiny, pathetic. He was shaking as he watched his dick spread her in half, her soft ass jiggling as he smacked into her, skin patting, his cock leaking precum steadily into his condom.

He hissed when it felt too good. His balls squeezing and his fat dick throbbing inside of her. He thrusted forward, landing a palm down next to her shoulder, his chest pressed into her back as he rutted himself in, tucking his cock through her insides and puffed out a hot groan into her ear, “Fuck you feel good. Gonna make me come, baby…”

She moaned and nodded, “Come for me, Harry…”

He might have held out for another thirty seconds, possibly a minute longer but her breathy words, all sultry and pleading had him pumping into his condom in an instant. He gargled on a moan and squeezed his eyes closed as he buried in and stilled his hips, ass flexing so he could push in further if it were possible.

Y/n felt him crushing her back as he collapsed over her, panted breaths in her ear, cock still throbbing in the aftermath of his orgasm.

She didn’t mind it. Liked his weight on her like that. Enjoyed the way he seemed just as fucked out as she was. She could even feel his heart pounding in his chest against her back.

With a moan, she turned her head and nuzzled her face into her blanket with her eyes closed. She’d fall asleep that way if he couldn’t get up. It was quite warm and comforting. Like a weighted blanket draped over her body. And maybe she did doze off for a bit because when she opened her eyes she felt him moving off of her before he crashed down next to her, the springs in her mattress bouncing under him.

Pushing herself to lie on her side she ran a hand over his chest and he turned to look at her, a dopey smile on his flushed face, “So this is what happens at slumber parties, huh? I’ve really missed out all these years.”

She giggled and nodded into her pillow, “Yep. They’re just like big orgies really. Normally there are more than just two people. It’s how I lost my virginity.”

Harry sputtered a laugh, “Really?”

Y/n couldn’t help but to cackle loudly and roll to her back, the biggest grin on her face, “No, silly. I was teasing.”

He slid a hand over her tummy, “So this isn’t what happens at slumber parties, then?” She could hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

She turned her head to look at him, “Well, not usually. But I think we made our own rules for this one today.”

“Yeah? Well, I have to give it to you. You throw a hell of a party. I’m certain this is gonna go down as the best sleepover in history.”

. . .

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran   @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince

@closureesny @angelbabyyy99 @damnasstyles @malwtilda @love-letters-to-uranus

@itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs

@lc-fics @mema10 @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut

@elidoho @gotdrxnkonu @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @tiredinwinter

@princessaxoxo @angeldavis777 @lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo

@brittanyzelazno @lemoncrushh @golfrry @caynonmoondreams @danaehldy

@mellamolayla @ladscarlett @heartateasee @littlenatilda @virgopr1ncess

@finelinepie @michellekstyles @harrysredroom @harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994

@devilsqueen722 @bananabk9756 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @idkkkkkkk123lgb @freedomfireflies

[sp0o0kylights]

"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch. 

"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into  his annual “anti-valentines day” rant. 

Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.

Directly in front of Patrick.

As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school. 

Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his. 

He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as  if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.” 

A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted. 

Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list. 

Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out. 

"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder. 

A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.

 Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it. 

"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once." 

Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans. 

If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…

That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day. 

("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"  

He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts. 

"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first. 

“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned. 

"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.

Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"

Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit. 

Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute. 

Not in the way he used to. 

"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer." 

Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy. 

Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry. 

He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.

Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental. 

“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.

Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well. 

It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful. 

“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 

“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”

There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.  

Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information. 

“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )  

"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present.  “I bet none of you even enjoy it!” 

"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”

Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.  

Except his team had already proven they didn’t. 

Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was. 

They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.

He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted. 

Emphasis on ‘if.’ 

Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much. 

So said Carol, anyway. 

"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!" 

Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved. 

Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)

Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.

Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore. 

It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction. 

Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself. 

(Like that had ever been a good idea.)

“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!” 

Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice. 

Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it. 

The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit? 

It wasn’t Tommy’s style.

It was Hargrove’s.

(That was its own growing issue. 

The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy. 

How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to. 

That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.” 

Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.) 

“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!” 

Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards. 

“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!” 

Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control. 

All he wanted to do was go home. 

Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else. 

He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.

…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve. 

“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”

He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul. 

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.” 

The world stopped. 

This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off. 

(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.) 

Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him. 

Just as the entire cafeteria was. 

The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson. 

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done. 

With his so called friends, with  the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything. 

He was over it. 

If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it. 

(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.) 

“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it. 

He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down. 

“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.

“Shut up.” He snapped. 

Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.  

King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up. 

“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”  

“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him. 

 “For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”

Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.

He didn’t need to. Had never needed to. 

“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”

In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball. 

“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”  

Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it  landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet. 

Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time. 

Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.

Presently? 

He just felt tired. 

“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.  

The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just  shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them. 

Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway. 

Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.

“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks. 

They were ignored. 

Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up. 

“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm.  “You’re not fucking better than any of us!” 

Steve didn’t even look back. 

"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.” 

Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight. 

xXx

He didn’t want to go home.

Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.  

Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.

All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang. 

So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year. 

Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new. 

Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…

He did not.

It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday. 

Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech. 

So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered. 

Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.

At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson. 

Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned. 

“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.” 

Steve just stared at him.

“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.” 

Or any day, for the foreseeable future. 

“Yeah no--I, I got that.  I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.” 

“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time. 

Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say. 

“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.

Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track. 

“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.” 

He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately. 

“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what. 

Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into. 

Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both. 

Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed. 

 “I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere. 

"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"

Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!” 

Then immediately; 

“Actually yes, but--”  

Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough. 

“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right." 

“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either. 

Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station. 

"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions. 

“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!” 

“Tommy did what?” 

Steve was promptly ignored. 

(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.) 

There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.) 

“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.” 

Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself. 

“So here I am. Apologizing.” 

A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.” 

“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”

“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.”  Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock. 

It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down. 

“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.” 

Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least. 

Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.  

“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh. 

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.

“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.” 

“Yeah?” 

Eddie grinned. 

“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.” 

“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.

That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face. 

“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”  

“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.” 

“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!” 

“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening. 

Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!” 

Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face. 

He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen. 

“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.” 

Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required. 

“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?” 

Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous. 

“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.” 

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?” 

He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response. 

It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.

(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things. 

One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg. 

 Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor. 

“Steve.”

Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.

The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out. 

Except--

“Not right now I’m thinking.”  Steve told him absently. 

Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing. 

Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…

“The fuck? Steve--”

Steve shushed him. 

That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up. 

“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.

Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted. 

“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.” 

“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.

That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.

“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his. 

For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk. 

“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that. 

“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”

Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze. 

Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat. 

He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back. 

“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…” 

One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley. 

In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing. 

“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?” 

Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly. 

“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. ) 

[elliesgoodgirl]

Abby Anderson Headcanons 🌘

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

She’s a big reader, we know that already but I feel like she reads A LOT of nonfiction, specifically biographies and autobiographies because she wants to learn about life before the outbreak.

I think she gives stupid good hugs. Like the kind of hugs that crack your back a little. She gonna pick you up a little, just so your toes barely touch the ground

Gets headaches really easily. Either it be from that tight ass braid or stress, she always squinting and pinching the bridge of her nose in an effort to make it better

Take her braid out and give her a head massage? She’ll be yours forever. Girl eats it up every single time you do it.

She can and will try to squat you at random times. You don’t know it’s happening until she’s scooping you up and seeing how many squats she can make it to with you in her arms.

There’s no backing here, but I think she really enjoys a good tea. Like a mint tea or a camomile.

She would let you paint her nails, no questions asked.

She gives having an imaginary friend she blamed everything on when she was younger.

Little spoon enjoyer. She’s not going to tell you she WANTS to be the little spoon..but she does.

Goes CRAZY for light scratches. On her arms or on her back. It’s the best thing. If you do that when you guys are going to bed she’s falling asleep so fast

Because I did it in my Ellie one, Abby is getting a Taylor swift era. And her Era is Speak Now

I really think she’d have a couple ear piercings, honestly just piercings in general.

She’s such a “how’s my girl” kinda gal

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

Ellie one did well so I figured why not one for Miss Abigail :))))

[fandomnerd9602]

Hypothesis

Nerdy!Natasha Romanoff x Geek!Reader

Avengers High

Attraction has long been defined as when two opposite forces were brought together. In the case of Natasha Romanoff, a shy, introverted nerd at Avengers High, she was still looking for her opposite half.

No one really noticed her as she moved down the hallways of the high school campus. To most she was a face that blended in. She didn’t stand out to anyone. Well she did stand out to you.

She was your best friend. Calm, kind, and loving, you always saw the diamond that she always was. Her heart spoke volumes to yours. You were a geek, always obsessed with Star Wars or James Bond. There is a difference between geeks and nerds. But yet Natasha was always by your side for hangouts after school.

Natasha, despite all the logic, all the incalculable data that she had about chemistry with another person, found her heart fluttering each time you watched a Bond movie with her. Each time you smiled. Every time you cheered her up when the popular gals looked down on her or called her ugly duckling.

“It’s not calculable! The data doesn’t work!” Natasha bemoaned to her lab partner, Maria.

“What?” Maria groans, “is this about your love equation?”

“My equation of total compatibility.” Natasha answered back. “I ran simulations of Steve and I and then of Y/N and I.”

“And?” Maria looks with a bemused grin.

“It says Steve and I should be compatible but I don’t feel anything when I’m near him.”

“And (Y/N)?” Maria smirks.

“It says we have zero compatibility but yet…” Natasha huffs. “I-I think I’m in love with my best friend.”

“Oh Nattie,” Maria chuckles, “love isn’t something you quantify or try to put some equation to. Maybe what need is to test your hypothesis”

“Test? How?”

“Find out if you get sparks or butterflies when you kiss (Y/N)”

“But what if I screw up the only good friendship I have?!” Natasha nearly shouts in the middle of physics class.

“What if it becomes something amazing?” Maria asks, leaving the topic at that.

It was a dangerous game: testing such a hypothesis. On one hand, if her equation was accurate, she might lose your friendship. And if it was proven false, then she’d lose a bit of credibility, at least in her own eyes.

Such a hypothesis test came that night as you and her were watching an old James Bond movie on your couch.

“Geez how does James end up with all these girls?” Natasha asked jokingly.

“Maybe he’s secretly an alien with a powerful pheromone level?” You shrugged.

Natasha paused the movie and turned to you. “I need your help.”

“Sure! What’s up?” You flashed her a quick smile.

“I-I need to test something.” She bit her lip nervously. “Just close your eyes”

You happily obeyed. Natasha leaned in and kissed your lips. The mere touch sent sparks and shivers up and down her whole body.

Your eyes shot open. It was perfect.

Natasha pulled back a blushing, stuttering mess of a teenager. “I-I…umm…wow”

“Yeah. Wow.” You smiled, giggling a little too. “So how was your hypothesis?”

“I’m so happy to prove my equation of compatibility wrong.” She giggles.

“Maybe us being friends interferes with it somehow.” You smirked. “Maybe requires further testing.”

Hypothesis are usually proven or disproven thru various tests, Natasha thought.

“Further testing is required,” she giggles before jumping into your lap, kissing you repeatedly.

Natasha Romanoff. She was your best friend, your favorite nerd. And the love of your life. You and her still kept resting whether or not her equation was correct or not. The equation was put thru tests of dating, proposal, marriage, and eventually children.

Natasha was never more happy than to disprove her own hypothesis of compatibility. You and her, despite the data, were just perfect for each other.

Tags: @aloneodi @abimess @lifespectator @russianredassassin @revanshand @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @multi-fandom-enjoyer @jacenradio7 @scarletquake-n7 @supercorpdanbeau @iiconicsfan25 @iamnicodemus

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me - part two

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; percy and beckendorf's plan to set you up with luke is in motion, but you're extremely resistant to any advances (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3462

➻ warnings: swearing, ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos

➻ thank u so much for all the love on part 1 I am such a happy gal!!!!! also, have my first day at uni tomorrow (so pls wish me luck) and sorry if updates slow down!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It turned out that getting you to go out with Luke was harder than he’d originally anticipated. Eager for the whole ordeal to be over and for him to be 50 dollars richer, he’d hopped down from his spot on a fallen log and hurried to meet you by the volleyball courts when your match ended. You, unaware of Luke’s agenda, were fanning your face to combat some of the sweat that had accumulated, quickly tightening the messy ponytail you’d tied. Luke watched you in your own world, unbothered by anybody watching you, unlike the rest of your siblings. Sucking in a quick breath for confidence he approached you.

“Hey there, girly,” He smiled, “How’re you doing?” You looked up at him, inquisitive for a moment but ultimately unimpressed.

“Sweating like a pig actually, and yourself?” You were barely looking at him, skulling an impressive amount of your water bottle quickly. He stared at you, not expecting to be dismissed so easily. He recovered smoothly, not prepared to give up so soon.

“You really know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?”

“My mission in life,” You shot him a cloying smile, now giving him your full attention, unable to help being slightly interested by his boldness. “But obviously I’ve struck your fancy, so you see it worked. The world makes sense again.” You‘d figured out his motives now and had no interest, so began the walk back to your cabin. He followed, much to your dismay. Couldn’t men ever take the hint?

“So I’ll pick you up Friday then?”

“Oh right, Friday, uh huh.” You kept your eyes ahead, dodging a few younger kids as Luke trailed after you, annoyingly optimistic still.

“The night I take you places you’ve never been before,” He said, and you looked at him in disbelief. The ego on this kid!

“Right, like the makeout clearing in the forest? Do you even know my name, Castellan?” Luke could tell that you were mocking him, but he still had high hopes.

“I know a lot more than you think.” He smiled then, a lopsided thing that would have been somewhat charming if you’d actually bothered to look. Instead you were already walking away, calling out a “Doubtful. Very doubtful,” over your shoulder as you picked up into a run, presumably to go tell Clarisse about the bizarre experience you just had. Luke watched you go, dumbstruck in the middle of camp.

Percy and Beckendorf watched the exchange from the porch of the Hephaestus cabin, the latter putting his head in his hands dramatically.

“We’re screwed,” He groaned and Percy winced slightly.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, dude. Luke has faced a lot worse than a teenage girl.”

When you sat at dinner that night, desperately avoiding the eye contact Luke seemed desperate on initiating, you almost told Silena about your bizarre day. You’d opened your mouth to start the story when you realised that she’d only be encouraged by Luke’s antics, pressuring you into going out with him for her own benefit and quickly shut it. She’d noticed your odd behaviour and searched for meaning in your face. Panicking for something to replace the conversation, you zeroed in on the necklace sitting nicely on top of her camp one.

“Where’d you get the pearls?” You asked, already dreading the answer. Silena only confirmed your fears, claiming them as your grandmother’s with a coy smile.

“So what? You’ve just been hiding them the last three years?” You were always closest with your grandmother, and you were sure she wouldn’t leave her favourite pearls for Silena over you.

“Daddy found them in a drawer just before summer.” Silena shrugged as if you weren’t sitting across from her, cheeks a blotchy red in your upset. “Besides, they look good on me.” Your hands itched to hit her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, knowing exactly how much she was pissing you off.

“Trust me, they don’t,” You spat, quietly glad when Silena stalked off in a huff, amongst the first to leave the meal. You didn’t know how much longer you could argue with her before starting to cry, which you really didn’t want to do in front of the whole camp. You thought you were safe for the rest of the meal when Drew began speaking instead.

“You could try being nice sometimes, you know, people wouldn’t know what to think.” You rolled your eyes aggressively.

“You forget, I don’t care what people think,” You replied, taking in a spoonful of food.

“Yes you do. Everyone does. You know, with a new look you could have some serious potential.” You ignored her last statement.

“No, I don’t,” You emphasised, “You don’t always have to be who they want you to be.” You knew that wouldn’t impact Drew in the slightest, but you hoped it might resonate with some of your younger siblings — encourage them to nurture their internal beauty rather than accept the vain stereotype Aphrodite children were forced into. You pushed yourself out of the bench you were sitting on, needing a break from your insufferable siblings. As you dumped your dishes where they needed to be you saw Luke beginning to follow you and turned to make dead eye contact. Knowing you’d only scream at him (or worse) you gave him a dangerous look, accompanied with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. Not enough for anyone else to know you’d even acknowledged him, but enough to tell Luke to back off. He was smarter than you thought, as he held up his hands in a show of surrender, redirecting his action to innocently collect up his own dishes.

You may not have had any interest in knowing the boy, but you did appreciate that he knew when to back off. Or so you thought.

You were proven not-so-free from Luke Castellan the very next morning. It was the Aphrodite cabin’s day to check all the storerooms, and you’d volunteered to do the one which held all the weapons and armour near the sword fighting arena. You knew none of your siblings would come near if they could help it, mostly against weapons and the violence that surrounded the area, so you’d get a whole morning alone. It was peaceful attending to the chore, and you were allowed to use some of your Aphrodite eye for beauty. Of course, stacks of swords and assorted weapons could only be made so pretty, but you enjoyed organising them into neat rows, making it look as nice as possible — not that you would admit that to Silena or you’d be in her vanity chair receiving an unwelcome makeover in seconds.

You were just admiring your own sword, which you’d taken the time to polish while you were taking care of the others, when you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t react, assuming it was just some camper coming for a weapon, until he spoke.

“Nice sword, vintage hilt?” You tensed as Luke’s voice infiltrated your peace.

“Are you following me?” You disregarded his statement, an unimpressed frown present on your lips.

“I was training in the arena and needed to polish my sword. I saw you come in a while ago and not leave, I came to say hi,” He explained, and you raised an eyebrow. You weren’t friends, why would he come for a chat?

“Hi.” You promptly turned back to your task, shoving the cloth into the intricate designs of the hilt.

“Not a big talker, huh?” He persisted.

“Depends on the topic. My sword doesn’t exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy.” That wasn’t strictly true — the sword was a gift from your mother, with gold twisting around a blood red ruby in the centre of the hilt. After you’d made it clear that you weren’t going to just sit around during your time at camp she gifted you the sword, her way of saying that if you were going to fight, you should at least look good doing it. You’d had several conversations with Clarisse gushing over the intricacy of it, and profusely thanked Aphrodite for the gift in your offerings. You didn’t quite care to share this with Luke, being a relative stranger.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asked, and you were somewhat taken aback by the earnest tone of his voice.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?” You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that crept into your sentence.

“Most people are.” He gestured subtly towards his scar — gnarled and twisted against his otherwise tanned skin. You put a hand on your hip, resigned to conversation now.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Ok, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” You were pretty sure Luke was going for smooth or charming, but you thought in this moment he was entirely lame. The wink didn’t help his case.

“Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” You put on your best Drew impression, nasally and whiny, before handing him the cloth he needed to polish his own sword and turning to leave. There, quickly approaching the door, was Ethan. Seeing you he put on a disgusting smirk and blocked the doorway, effectively caging you into the storeroom.

“Gods, what is it, asshole day?” You asked, not caring that both boys could very clearly hear you. “Do you mind?” You gestured to his blocking the exit. He simply looked down at you, clearly doing his best to appear sexy (and failing miserably).

“Not at all.” His stupid smirk was going to kill you, and not in the good way. You scoffed, giving him a last chance to get the fuck out of your way. Then, sparing a fraction of a glance back to Luke pretending to mind his own business, you slammed the hilt of your sword into his foot, wishing it was the blade instead. You watched him crumble to the ground, holding his foot with both hands.

“You bitch!” He yelled, voice cracking pathetically in the middle. You forced your smile to stay contained.

“Oops,” You feigned innocence, one hands covering your mouth strategically. “You might need some ambrosia for that…” With that you side-stepped him, eager to leave the situation. If you’d have looked back, you would have seen the gleeful, disbelieving smile on Luke’s face, probably the biggest one he’d worn in a while. Although he didn’t get the date he’d entered for, he was beginning to think you were a little more interesting than you let on.

“Did you just cripple Ethan?” Silena shrieked as you entered your cabin to grab your things. “He’s a model, you can’t do that! Has it escaped your notice that you’re completely psychotic?” You pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly.

“Guess your long walks on the beach are gonna have to wait,” You sighed dramatically, leaving Silena to wallow in her pity alone. It wasn’t like it was really your fault — if Ethan had learned how to respond to words or learn the meaning of ‘move’ he wouldn’t have gotten himself into that situation in the first place.

Meanwhile, Ethan and Luke were having a similarly emotional conversation after Luke had — very reluctantly — helped Ethan over to the infirmary to get his foot checked out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results.” Luke sighed, could this boy get any whinier?

“Yeah, I’m on it,” He said through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to hurt him.

“Watching that bitch obliterate my foot doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get any, I don’t get any, so let’s get some,” Ethan said, running a hand through his ridiculously styled hair. Luke couldn’t believe his nerve. First of all, obliterated? He would be left with a bruise for a few days, if anything. Secondly, this whole things was Ethan’s idea, Luke had never given any indication wanting to ‘get some’, especially not with someone so clearly resisting his advances. Just as Ethan left, giving the Apollo girl treating him a douchebag smile, Luke hardened his resolve.

“I just upped my price,” He said, loving the way Ethan’s eyes widened like a cartoon character. “A hundred bucks a date, in advance.”

“Forget it,” Ethan grumbled, moving to leave again.

“Forget her sister then.” The two boys stared at each other, one significantly more amused than the other. Luke knew he had the upper hand in the dynamic, something he revelled in. Then, after the intimidation tactic clearly wasn’t having any effect, Ethan reached for his wallet, Luke admiring the crisp fifty he was handed.

“You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Castellan.” Luke just watched him go, confident tilt of his head conveying his outlook on the situation.

Luke had taken his usual spot overseeing combat training, but his usual thoughts were long gone. Instead, he was entirely preoccupied with you. He didn’t know how to get you to go out with him when you could barely entertain a conversation, and he twirled his cigarette between his fingers as he pondered.

Percy and Beckendorf saw his internal conflicts, slowly moving closer to him under the guise of a very chaotic fight between the two. Finally Luke gave them attention, knowing Percy’s skills would never have him running all over the place like that. He raised an eyebrow, a sign for them to get on with whatever they were angling at.

“We know what you’re trying to do, for Beauregard,” Percy said, and Luke appeared almost startled.

“And we want to help,” Added Beckendorf helpfully, shying away when Luke’s eyes bore into his.

“And why would you do that?”

“Beckendorf here has a major crush on Silena—”

“Gods, what is it with this girl? Does she sweat nectar?” Beckendorf opened his mouth to protest when Percy spoke over him, knowing it would be more beneficial to let Luke lead.

“Look, I think we can both tell that Charlie’s love is pure, well-intentioned, better than, say, Ethan White?” Luke sighed, catching on.

“I’m in this for the cash, that’s it. Who Ethan wants to bang is of no interest to me.”

“There will be no banging!” Beckendorf cried as Percy pushed him behind. He was no use in a delicate situation like this.

“Ok, Luke, it’s just that we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing. We set it up so Beckendorf can get the girl — Ethan’s just a pawn.” Luke paid closer attention suddenly, intrigued by the chess match he’d been pulled into.

“So you two are gonna help me win her over?”

“We’ll do research, find out what she likes. We can be your guys on the inside.”

“In a strictly non-mission type of way,” Beckendorf added helpfully, nervous of the legends he’d heard about Luke’s failed quest. Luke chose to simply ignore that comment, and Percy filled the silence before he could get angry about it.

“Let’s just start here: the Apollo cabin is throwing a party on Friday night, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“I’ll think about it,” Was all Luke said, a clear signal the conversation was over. Percy and Beckendorf returned to fighting, slightly more regulated now they had gotten what they’d wanted, and Luke brought the cigarette back up to his lips, new thoughts clouding his mind.

Meanwhile, Ethan had found Silena where she was known to hang out by the rocks near the lake. He was hovering next to her, providing snatches of shade as he performed pose after pose, claiming he had a modelling job lined up when he left for the year.

“So which do you like better?” He asked, moving his hands fractionally to the left of his chin.

“The second,” Silena giggled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “It’s more… pensive.”

“Damn,” Ethan kicked the sand softly. “I was going for thoughtful. So, you going to the Apollo party on Friday?”

“Maybe.” She produced her best coy smile, looking up at him from behind her lashes.

“Good, ‘cause you know I’ll only bother if you’re there.” Silena smiled, getting up from her spot on the rock.

“Bye.” Her voice was airy in the way she knew drove boys mad. She walked away leaving Ethan wanting more, her specialty. You scoffed, catching the end of the exchange. You and Silena made momentary eye contact, tension thick between the two of you.

As Beckendorf approached Silena, fishing for more information about you, Ethan had caught you in his sights and wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

“You sister is so cute,” His voice infiltrated your bubble in a way that made you want to hit him so desperately. “Doesn’t have your bite though, a feisty woman is so sexy.” You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you, but it was so close to working.

“Come any closer and I’ll show you just how feisty I can get,” You snapped, braid almost whacking him in the face as you turned to face him. You could have sworn Ethan looked afraid for a second before he covered it with bravado.

“One day you’re gonna realise that all of this hostility is just your sexual repression. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be waiting with open arms… And legs.” You almost threw up.

“Gods, can’t you just leave me alone, asshole?” You yelled, trying to push past him to get anywhere else.

“C’mon, don’t be a prude,” He whined, and you were really close to taking him to the ground — not in the way he wanted.

“You heard the girl,” A voice called from behind you, and instantly Ethan took a step back. “She wants you to leave her alone.” Luke appeared behind you, a respectful distance away whilst still making his intentions clear. Ethan shrunk back into himself, making a lame excuse as to why he had to leave, hurriedly fleeing the beach. Reluctantly, you turned to face Luke.

“I’m not going out with you just for that,” You said plainly, daring him to try again.

“You think that low of me?” He laughed, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. You forced yourself not to notice. “I don’t have to want something from you to know that Ethan White isn’t worth your time.” It was your turn to be embarrassed at that, feeling slightly narcissistic for assuming that was the purpose of the conversation (it was, but Luke sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin his chances because you were in a mood, justified or otherwise).

“Oh.” You stared at his shoes. “Well, thanks, I guess.” You moved to leave but Luke stopped you, hand not quite touching your arm, unwilling to have it bitten off.

“So you do have a heart!” He joked, signature grin on his face. You wondered why you were seeing so much of it lately when he’d been so dour since his quest.

“Ha! You wish.”

“Don’t try to hide it, Beauregard, you’re warming up to me.”

“I’d sooner fuck Mister D,” You replied, actually taking your leave.

Luke watched you go, chewing his lip between his teeth. There was more to you than you let on, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t say it was any fondness, but he was starting to have a curiosity attaching itself to this scheme, and he knew that going out with you would satisfy it. He should have known having any personal stakes involved — sentimental or otherwise — would get dangerous.

Your own thoughts had barely budged on Luke. He was still a pain in your side and you figured you knew what kind of guy he was — not the type you had any interest in. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were appreciative he’d saved you from Ethan (and the inevitable washing up duty you’d be punished with when you beat him up), so maybe he wasn’t quite as despicable as you’d initially judged him to be. Close, though.

part three

[jd07201990]

“Oh, come on Chuck! This’ll be my second time! You can’t keep forcing me to work another 40 years, just to make it to retirement and do it all again! It’s not yours or my fault that there aren’t enough young folk to take over our jobs! Hell, maybe if we paid a bit more, the few of them out there would apply!”

“It’s Lieutenant Roth, Billy. Now go change out of that equipment and take a shower. Whatever this remote does to strip away all those years, it sure does leave a young man ripe!”

“Don’t call me Billy! I haven’t been Billy in 30 years! Its Bill Damn it! And how am I supposed to explain this, again! to David?! You know he’s not into, well… this!”

“Put your shirt down Billy and quit your complaining. We’re doing something different this time, changing things up, trying something new. See, we couldn’t afford to pay higher wages all these years, because we’ve been stashing extra money away, for a new program. This remote can do a lot more than just wipe away years, Billy. The company has a whole app-store full of features, but they cost a hell of a lot. We only had enough for 2 new features, and we think it’ll really help solve this town’s aging population issue.”

“Wha… what the hell are you saying? What do you mean, something new?! Chuck, dude… you’re seriously starting to crack! What the fuck does any of this have to do with David?! And who is, “We”?!”

“I’m only going to tell you this once, son. It’s Lieutenant Roth. Now, I guess there’s no beating around the bush with you young-bloods. So I’ll get right to it. “We” is me, the Governor, and the Town Board. We investigated every possible fix, and it comes down to this. All the youth are moving out in droves, going to college, or fleeing to the city for excitement, leaving us aging folk to do the hard work around town. With the remote able to take years off a person, we’ve decided that all our current retirees, in every department, will be regressed, and the new feature we purchased will ensure you all follow your new, youthful instincts, providing us with a full generational bump in population.

You will be the hot-blooded virile stud you were way back in the day; you remember? Except this time, just as David isn’t attracted to this prime of your life look, YOU won’t be attracted to David, or any man for that matter. You see, we need all the help we can get, so with this little app, you’ll be chasing pretty women, and will certainly end up settling down, once one of them catches. Ah, by the look on your face, you know exactly what I mean.

Good, because you and the rest of the retirees are going to have your hands full, working these jobs getting paid just enough for a double-wide and a truck, leaving a trail of gals before you settle in with one, and have a whole mess of kids. "

“Ch… Lieutenant, sir… Wha… you’re insane dude! Fuckin’ totally cracked! You hear yourself! You can’t do this! I can’t be… I can’t chase… I don’t… don’t like…. Fuck… fuck dude… what the fuck are you doing?! Quit pointin’ that shit at me bro! My.. my head!”

“Don’t worry son, I’ll let you off the hook for all that mouthing off. It’s got to be rough having your brain completely flipped inside out, dumped out and filled with everything you need to be a, productive, member of society. Isn’t that right Billy?”

“Wha.. Oh, hey Lieutenant! So uh, is it ok if I head off to the showers and hit the road? Kind of a slow night huh sir? If it’d be alright, I want to go down to the Strip and hit the bar. The dudes and I figured we’d start the weekend early, ya know? Gotta get get some tail on lock before the storms hit. Thinkin’ I might run into Becka too, you know, from Thornton Stables? God she’d look real pretty, all knocked up good n’ proper!”

“Oh alright son. Go ahead, take the night off. But you’re on call. Got it! One or two beers, maybe a shot, take some cash and buy the lass one of those fruity drinks, and you treat her like a lady, young man. Got it?”

“Got it Dude! I mean Lieutenant! I’ll make a lady outa her yet! Thanks for the money too! Ya know how rough it is on the town’s wages! Although you and the Board seem to be doin’ alright. I hope I can get to where you are, Sir!”

“Don’t worry Billy, you’ve got a good 40 years or so to work your way up! Go have fun tonight!”

[tang3r1n]

“Pervert!”

Shig is stuck at the single worst party of his life— until he spots that cutie from his biochem class.

warnings; dub/noncon, AFAB/FEM READER anal ref for like a second, unprotected sex, drunk/drugged reader, yandere-coded shig,, slut-shaming, incel-ish shig, dabi got too drunk and kinda screwed reader over, drugging(?), college au, i’m gonna redo this eventually, gross descriptions

a/n; this is my (late) secret santa gift and New Years present for the illustrious @mamayan !! i hope i did your dirty man justice, this was a part of @/ectologia’s amazing Secret Santa 2023 event they hosted!! both of these authors are big inspirations to me and i’m so glad i was able to be a part of this!

This New Years party was horrendously lame. shitty music, shitty lighting, shitty drinks; the whole thing was just an excuse for idiotic college frat douches to get wasted and fuck pretty little cheerleaders for the umptenth time.

Shigaraki watched with tepid interest as Dabi was cheered on by idiotic college students chugging his twentieth beer, scoffing as the drunk man raised his arms in triumph and let out a slurred war cry, already stumbling around. He was already sick of this place, the smell of pot and vomit burning his nostrils, just as he thought to dump his cheap booze away and kick rocks Dabi sauntered over to him, practically dragging another person with him.

Tomura felt his back immediately straighten, bloodshot red eyes widening as he saw your giggly attitude and cute little outfit. You were his shamefully massive crush from his chemistry class, the teacher’s student grader who left cute smiley faces and sweet memos on all his reports, always smiling and helpful and so so so kind to everyone. Shigaraki often got carried away staring at you during labs, watching as you bent over, how your lab coat was seemingly tightened just enough to where he can see your luscious curves, how your pretty hair falls so perfectly messy from your chaotic bun, ‘wonder how she’d look if i spread her out on this table—examine her..’

Dabi poked his chest harshly, a drunken grin plastered on his face as he held up in a mock chokehold, “lis’n h-hic!-here.. yer gonna take m’new girl n make sh-braap!-sure she ge’shome safe, kay?” Tomura rolled his eyes at his friend’s drunken speech, letting Dabi clap a hand on his shoulder to steady himself as he watched you giggle and pat Dabi’s back comfortingly. Your own cheeks were darkened and he could see the sway in your stance. Tomura couldn’t help but feel a twinge of emotion at Dabi’s declaration of you being ‘his new girl’ as he finally scoffed and pulled away, his frustration coming off as annoyance.

“Why am I in charge of your ‘new girl’?” he hissed, eyes narrowed. Your smile dropped and his gut wrenched at the sight knowing it was his fault, but he couldn’t help the little twitch of his cock at your glossy lips stuck in a cute pout. Dabi frowned and shoved the taller man harshly, stumbling a bit as he did, “dude fuck off, she’s jus’a sweet gal, wanna make sure she don’t get snatched up-hic!-I obvi’sly can’do it,” he chided, poking at Shigaraki’s chest. You interjected, pretty manicured fingers and bracket decorated wrists waving in protest, “no no no nonono, h-he don’t need to do that, ‘ll be f-fine!” you slurred and Tomura sighed, pinching his brows to hide the absolute jubilation he was experiencing. He couldn’t believe his luck— literally being hand-delivered the girl of his (wet) dreams on the shiniest of silver platters. He kept up the act, however, not wanting you to see his desperation, “nah, nah, you’re both stumbling like fucking morons, lemme go grab my shit,” he turned on his heels, calling over his shoulder, “go grab yours.” hearing your heels ‘click! click! click!’ off as you ran to get your cute purse.

“T-tomura I-ahh!” you whined and cried into your pillow, the fabric soaked and caked in your tears and makeup. You screamed as he pushed your back down into a sinfully painful arch, cock sloppily thrusting into your poor cunt. All you’d done is asked for help taking your massive heels off, bending down to untie the long, crossed straps as he snuck up from behind using his, very surprising, strength to grab and yank you up over his shoulder. You gasped and twisted, pounding on his back with your fists as he stumbled through your tiny apartment just off campus. It was only now that you regretted never agreeing to the on-campus dorms.

His whiny pants seemed to infect your very soul, bright red, bloodshot eyes staring down at you in such a creepy way, like he feared blinking would ruin his moment with you. Not like this was much of a fond moment being made, panties hanging off your ankle, shirt and bra ripped, literally ripped in half, hair frizzy and messy from his constant pulling and tugging. You felt disgusting; dizzy and nauseous, wet and gross with how loud your own pussy was squelching, the blunt ‘plap! plap! plap!’ of his balls against your puffy lips send chills of disdain and pleasure up your back, making your already jumbled brain that much more scattered.

He was so touchy, his clammy hands pinching and prodding at all your fat and curves, frantic in their path all over your sweaty skin. Shigaraki’s entire form was frantic, hips stuttering and basically humping you while his cock twitched wildly, arms and thighs quivering at he pinned you down, drool, literal spit, splattering against your face and neck as he openly crooned and moaned like a bitch in heat. You felt so violated as he praised your body, talking about ‘all those lonely nights’ and how he ‘spent so many labs with a hand down m’pants-“ god he was a fucking pervert.

You whined as his thumb found your clit, rubbing fast circles and sending a wave of pleasure through you, another wave of nausea following soon after as you bit back bile, there was no fucking way you were gonna cum from this degenerate raping you. But alas, try as you might your biology was working against you, thighs and cunt clenching around him and his cock as you neared your high. His laugh was cracks and hoarse as he leant down, greasy pale-blue hair tickling your nose as he licked a stripe up your face, drinking your tears, “mmfh—! fuck, y’gonna cum? huh?” he tried, rubbing tight circles onto your sensitive bundle of nerves. You thrashed in what little movement you could, sobbing and shaking your head, “N-NO, NEVER, YOU F-FUCKING PERV—“ he cut off your screams with a harsh swat to your pussy, causing a full body shake as you tipped over the edge.

Perhaps you would’ve been embarrassed if not blinded by the white-hot pleasure of your forced orgasm, mouth agape in a silent scream as your cum cremend his cock, creating a frothy ring of white at his base. Tomura giggled out a disgusting laugh, wiping the milky mixture and smearing it into your messy face, cooing at your disheveled appearance as he sped up his sloppy thrusts.

Just as you came down from your high, his hand suddenly pinned you back down by the neck, quickly cutting off any air as he whined above you, eyebrows creased as he fucked into your hot, messy pussy, “g-gonna cum— fill up y’pretty pussy,” he whined, using his thumb to softly poke and prod at both your lips and little puckered hole and causing you to jolt, tightening up around his again and sending Toura over to his own climax.

His ‘big o’ face was obscured by his tangled, dirty hair, a pathetically noisy groan resonating as he stilled inside you, pump after pump of warm, thick cum shot right in you. You cringed, so weak from your own finish that you did nothing but whine in protest as he slowly slipped his cock out, instantly jamming two of his lengthy fingers back in to keep his cum night and snug.

“Happy New Years, I—“

“fucking pervert.”’

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

give it up for @stevieweek day 3- girls' night! using the sports prompt to spread my sporty stevie agenda like let that woman put her ponytail through her baseball cap!!!!!

wc: 812 | rating: G

Today, Stevie Harrington is a woman on a mission. She’s gonna revolutionise girls’ night.

Before her transition, she spent most of her time with the boys of the party (and also Robin), and while she’s still pretty close with them and has maintained her hybrid sibling-chauffeur relationship, the girls have started muscling in on her time a lot more under the pretense of ‘showing her the ropes’ of femininity. Which mainly seems to entail Erica dragging her through stores in the mall a few towns over and El practising her new nail painting skills on Stevie’s hands.

And don’t get her wrong, Stevie loves it. There’s a certain sense of joy that warms her heart every time the girls make a point to involve her in anything, especially something overtly feminine. Her hair, skin, and nails have literally never looked better thanks to their new weekly girls nights.

But recently, Stevie’s had something of a revelation. She’s always been a sporty gal, but with the exception of Lucas, none of the boys have shown any interest in joining her in her hobbies. In fact, they’ve repeatedly shown an interest in doing anything but her hobbies. She’d pretty much given up on getting to play any kind of sports with the kids a long time ago, beyond the occasional one-on-one with Lucas.

At least, until she realised that while the boys had banned all mention of sports, she’d received no such ultimatum from the girls.

The more she thinks about it, the more perfect her plan seems. Max is already kind of sporty- she’d taken Stevie out skateboarding once and that shit was hard, involving a lot of muscles and balance skills that Stevie wasn’t really used to. Erica and Nancy aren't specifically big sports fans, but they have a lot of rage within them that Steph thinks could really be put to use in, say, swinging a bat around or throwing a ball real hard. If anything the only real concern Stevie has there is that they might become too powerful. El tends to just be happy being part of a group, and Robin is dedicated in her role of Stevie’s Best Friend Slash Twin Sister, so while she’ll probably complain the entire time about how she’s too uncoordinated for sports, she’ll still do it as if not doing it wasn’t even an option.

So now she’s sitting in her living room, the designated venue for girls’ night, surrounded by various sports equipment while the other girls stare at her.

“It could be fun! Like a bonding thing!” she says, eyes big and pleading.

Erica squints at her. “You look like a dog begging for food right now.”

Before Stevie can even begin to get offended by that, El pipes up from where she’s inspecting a tennis racket. “I saw a pretty dog the other day that was playing with some children. I think you would be that kind of dog.”

Max nods sagely. “Golden retriever. You have golden retriever energy.” She picks up a baseball. “Explains why you want to play ball so much.”

The one-two punch of almost compliment and harsh critique is frankly kind of devastating. Luckily Robin seems to sense Stevie’s distress. “I think it’ll be fun! And, like, this could be a girl power thing, right? Like, look at us go- bam, baseball bat.”

“Bam, baseball bat?” Nancy says, failing to hide a smile behind her hands.

Erica picks up a baseball bat, swinging it a little too vigorously a little too close to one of Stevie’s lamps, but she guesses she had to have seen that coming when possibly handing something that could do damage to Erica Sinclair. “I guess I could see the value of bam, baseball bat.”

“I have never played a sport before. I would like to learn,” El states in her matter-of-fact way. Max visibly softens at that, so Stevie knows she’s got both of them on board.

“That’s great!” Stevie pops out of her seat, excitedly walking over to her supplies. “What do you think you’d like to play? I have a couple different things-”

“We better be playing something competitive, you people need some humbling,” Erica mutters, but the small smile on her face shows she’s in.

Nancy smiles at Erica, one of those sharp smiles that reminds Stevie how much the two girls have in common. “Anything’s competitive if you try hard enough.”

Five for five. A grin overtakes Stevie’s face, and she quickly gathers up a basically random selection of balls and bats and rackets, excitedly running into the yard. “This is gonna be great! Best girls’ night ever!”

She’s so thrilled with a plan well executed that she even graciously decides to ignore the whispered remarks of “yeah, definitely a golden retriever,” coming from behind her.

Retribution will just have to come in the form of sports.

[corpsebridalshower]

THE WAY YOU DREW DIVINIA IS SO AAAHHHH I SCREAMED THANK YOU SM

She was a florist in her previous life back when she was alive, so I think she’d be the kind of gal to send white lilies (her favorite) to Bonnie and wish her a happy day in hell whenever she can. Luckily the messengers got her back 🙏

Aside from writing and performing, she also sold potions and herbs under the table. Bonnie would give her one of her most memorable books but they’re nonexistent at this point.

[sequinsmile-x]

Aftertaste

Everything changes in an instant. The pleasant warmth she’d been feeling, the arousal burning in her veins, immediately replaced by ice, panic washing over her at the combination of the whiskey on his breath and the compliment that had once belonged to another man.

Emily has a panic attack.

-x-

Hi friends,

This is another one of those ideas that kind of came to me on a night when I couldn't sleep. (I'm currently doing the very grown up thing of buying my first home and the anxiety is crippling so your gal isn't sleeping.) So, welcome to another part of the insomnia chronicles.

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: Trauma, PTSD, panic attack

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He was even softer than she thought he’d be. 

She’d known him long enough to have seen it. To see the tender way he treated his son, how he’d been the same with Haley during the few times Emily had seen them as a couple. For years she allowed herself the fantasy of how he’d be with her, how he’d be gentle in a way no one else would ever know she wanted or needed. He’d exceeded her expectations over the last few weeks, treating her like she was made of something precious but never tripping over into treating her like she was fragile. 

She already knew she was in love with him, had known it for much longer than she cared to admit even to herself, but she couldn’t say it yet. The words trapped in her chest, buried under the rubble of all those that came before him, all those who had helped forge the walls she’d built around herself, the tools first handed to her by her mother before she was old enough to understand. 

She can’t bring herself to let go of him, her arms wrapped around him from behind, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as he digs through his pockets for the key to his apartment. 

“You said Jack is with Jess tonight?” She murmurs, kissing him through his jacket, breathing in the comforting scent of him, the vibration of his response passing back from his chest into hers. 

“Yes, she’s bringing him home in the morning,” he replies, pushing the door open before he turns in her arms, his smile soft as he presses it against hers, his hands on her lower back as he spins them, gently pushing her into the apartment first, “He said he’s excited for breakfast with you tomorrow,” he kisses her cheek before he unwraps himself from around her to lock his front door, “I told him we’d go to that diner he likes.”

Emily smiles nervously, an uncharacteristic shake to it, “And you’re sure-”

“Em,” he says, cutting her off with an understanding grin. He’d assured her more than once that Jack loved her, that he always wanted to spend time with her, especially now she was his father’s girlfriend, “I think you’re his favourite person on the planet. He loves spending time with you.” 

She presses her lips together to try to contain her smile, her cheeks warm with love for both of them, “I love spending time with him too.”

He hums, his hands on her hips as he tugs her closer, “Just him?”

Her smile turns teasing, her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth as she shrugs, “You too I guess.” 

He swallows her yelp as he pulls her into a kiss, his hands moving to her back as they lose themselves in each other. When he breaks the kiss he rests his forehead against hers, “Drink?” 

She nods, her tongue peeking out to lick her lower lip, chasing the taste of him whilst he grabs her hand and leads her towards the couch. As soon as she’s sitting down he tries to move, his hand slipping out of hers, but she stops him, the thought of not touching him too much to bear. She kisses him, a hand on each of his cheeks as he leans over the couch, holding him in place as he boxes her in. She stamps another kiss against his lower lip as he pulls away, smiling as she nips at the plushness of it, “I’ll take that drink now.”

He smiles, his dimples forming under her touch, the perfect size for her thumbs to sit, and he nods, “Do you want anything in particular or shall I surprise you?” 

She hums as she lets him go, feeling oddly bereft when he steps away, leaving coolness in his place as he walks the short distance to the bar cart, “What have you got?” 

“Well, Dave got me some whiskey for my birthday last year that I’ve never opened,” he says, reaching past the bottles neatly lined up on the front of the cart, “It always seemed too nice to drink alone, but…”

She stops hearing him when he shows her the bottle. The red glass momentarily makes her freeze, and the small gold bird on the label pulls her back in time. Aaron’s deep honey-coloured eyes are briefly replaced with icy blue ones, a flash of the past in between blinks that makes her breath catch in her chest. 

“Em, are you okay?”

She swallows thickly and looks at him, already nodding before she’s really sure, “I’m fine,” she says as she forces a smile, carrying on before he can ask again, “That’s an expensive bottle. Dave must have dropped at least a $1,000 on it.” 

He nods as he pulls the tag in the red foil around the neck of the bottle, “He told me it was $1,150,” he smiles wryly, “He likes to tell me how expensive things are in an attempt to make me feel uncomfortable,” his smile gets wider as she laughs, some of the tension in her chest easing, “I didn’t know you knew anything about speciality whiskeys.” 

Her mouth goes dry, her tongue heavy as she tries and fails to think of a way to respond. She didn’t know about whiskey, not really, but she knew this one. It was Ian’s favourite, something she was sure had everything to do with the price tag attached to it rather than the taste of the liquor itself. He’d always loved the finer things in life, always wanted the most expensive looking thing possible to improve his image. She knew she had counted as one of those things. It was why he’d bought her only the best clothes, never asking once if she liked any of them before he presented her with them, dressing her up as if she belonged to him. 

The scar on her chest aches, burning as if it were fresh, the smell of charred flesh briefly filling her senses before Aaron sinks on the couch next to her, passing her one of the glasses in his hand - a generous measure of whiskey in each. 

“Thanks,” she says, smiling as she takes it, staring at the amber liquid, “You know, I would have been happy with a normal $40 bottle of whiskey. They all taste the same over that price point anyway.” 

“I know,” he replies as he leans in to kiss her, the scent of his cologne washing over her, replacing anything else as she sinks into it, turning so she curls into his side, her hand on his thigh. His eyebrows knit together as he pulls back, a flicker of concern thrumming under his skin as she practically clings to him, her grip on his leg tight, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

She nods, watching as he takes a swig of his drink, her gaze fixed on his Adam's apple when it shifts as he swallows. She doesn’t want to get into it, doesn’t want Ian to ruin what had been a perfect date with her boyfriend by bringing him up, his presence already having inevitably wormed into their very first one just a few weeks ago when Aaron saw her naked for the first time. He swore he only saw her, his touch gentle and kind as he skimmed his fingers over her scars. She hadn’t believed him until he took off his shirt and she saw his, Foyet the furthest thing from her mind as she took in how beautiful he was. 

She’s moving before she thinks about it, grabbing the glass from him and placing it down with hers on the coffee table. Before he can question what she’s doing she’s straddling him, her knees bracketing his hips as she sinks into his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him before he can say anything else, sighing contentedly when he wraps his arms around her, his fingertips from his spanned-out hands almost touching each other over her spine.  She can taste the whiskey on his tongue but it’s chased by him, the final notes of it something she was already used to and aching to have for the rest of her life. 

He encourages her upwards, his hands squeezing her hips as they stand together, moving in tandem as he ends up behind her, his chest against her back, “Bedroom.” 

She’s so focused on him, on the way his palm is warm through the material of her dress, on his lips pressing against her collarbone, that she simply nods in response. Sure her voice would give away how much she wanted him, her desire lodged in her throat. When they make it to his room he turns her, his touch gentle yet insistent as he tugs her dress over her head, his pupils blown wide as he looks her up and down. 

“Beautiful,” he mumbles, the word half pressed against her lips as he encourages her backwards, the back of her knees hitting the bed as he guides her down, his hands on her back as she arches up into him, “So beautiful.” 

She’d always been complimented on her appearance. It started before she was old enough to understand the currency of it. Men her mother was friends with telling her she was pretty before she knew how her face and her body would be both something she could weaponise as well as something that could be used against her. Ian had always called her gorgeous. The word spat out amongst curse words whenever they fucked, the compliment she’s sure he meant lost somewhere along the way. 

Aaron always called her beautiful. It made her skin flush, warmth spreading from her cheeks down her neck whenever he said it, and something about the way he looked at her made her believe him every time. A sense of awe shining back at her as if he was looking at a piece of priceless art in a museum, hidden behind glass she’d placed in front of herself after one too many people had tried to ruin her. 

She smiles and pulls him in for a kiss, spreading her legs so he can settle between them, the weight of him against her as much of a comfort as anything else. She hooks a leg around him, smirking as their kiss breaks and he ruts his hips against hers, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as their eyes meet, 

“Do you like the lingerie?” She asks, even though she knows the answer, the heavy weight of him against her hip obvious even through his pants, “I bought it for you.” 

He growls at the admission as he looks her up and down, taking in the forest green lace cupping her breasts and hugging her hips, and pride pulses through her. The fact she could do this to him, the most controlled man she’d ever met, enough to make her burst. He leans in, his kiss more passionate this time, forceful in a way that makes her moan, and she holds him closer. He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath skipping across her face. 

“You’re gorgeous.” 

Everything changes in an instant. The pleasant warmth she’d been feeling, the arousal burning in her veins, immediately replaced by ice, panic washing over her at the combination of the whiskey on his breath and the compliment that had once belonged to another man. She can smell smoke and fear and burned flesh and she feels herself folding inwards, her chest collapsing as Aaron’s weight above her is suddenly oppressive. She’s brought back the moment he kisses her neck, a shiver passing through her for all the wrong reasons as she shies away from it, her hands forceful on his shoulders, her foot now pushing at his hip, as she tries to get free. 

“Stop,” she chokes out, her voice sounding nothing like her own, “Aaron, stop.” 

She needn’t have asked the second time, he was already moving, but she does. She barely looks at him as she scrambles off the bed, her chest tight as she tries to breathe. 

“Em? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

She ignores his questions and looks for an exit, her eyes land on the door to the en-suite and she’s moving before she can think about it, her legs carrying her of her own accord. She slams the door shut behind her and locks it, the heavy wood muffling his continued attempts to talk to her. She turns and leans against it, her head hitting it with a heavy thunk before she sinks to the floor, the cool tile against her ass and thighs a stark reminder she was only wearing her lingerie. 

She hugs her legs to her chest and rests her forehead on her knees as she encourages herself to breathe. 

“Em?” 

A shaky breath rattles in her chest, “Aaron.”

She can hear how it sounds as close to begging as she’s ever come to with him, desperation laced into every syllable. She knows he hears it too as he replies, his voice soft and even as if he’s purposely trying to make himself small to not intimidate her, even through the door. 

“I’m not going to force my way in or make you talk to me, I just need to know if you’re hurt, sweetheart.” 

Guilt swells in her chest, the fear and concern leaking from him makes its way to the door between them, causing it to swell and warp to the point she’s briefly worried she’ll never get out, stuck on this side of the space she’s forced between them.

She swallows thickly, “I’m not hurt.” 

There’s a beat of silence that draws out around her, almost long enough that she thinks he’s left until he speaks, “I’ll leave something for you to wear out here. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” 

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t know how to, his kindness almost cutting, making her feel worse for a reaction to something she hadn’t known would trigger her. She doesn’t know how long she sits there on his bathroom floor, the coolness of the tile against her skin something she hangs on to, an anchor in reality, as she reminds herself that Ian is gone. She’d watched him die. That he’d lost and she’d won and now she had this. A man she knew loved her even though neither of them had said it yet. A man who had looked devastated at the thought of hurting her, his pained expression something she’d caught even in the height of her panic. 

She eventually scrambles off of the floor, her legs slightly shaky beneath her, and she unlocks the door and steps out into the bedroom. She walks over to the bed and sees her discarded dress folded neatly next to a pair of his boxers and her favourite shirt of his. It makes her ache that he’s given her options even in this - the comfort of him or herself - when he doesn’t understand what has happened. She slips on his clothes, taking the time to bury her face against the collar of his shirt, breathing him in, letting it wash over her before she leaves the bedroom. 

He’s sitting on the couch when she makes it to the living room, the bottle of whiskey no longer on the table, hidden away back in it’s place on the bar cart. The glasses are gone too, and she spots them on the draining board. She briefly wonders if he drank any more of the whiskey, but then she smells the coffee in the air and then she sees the half drunk mug of it in front of him. She can picture him cleaning to keep himself busy whilst she sat on his bathroom floor, spurred on by worry for her that stopped him from sitting still, deciding to make coffee that she hopes is decaf just to pass more time. 

He looks over at her, his elbows resting on his knees. He looks wrung out, stress painted into the fine lines on his face, and she watches as he tries to force himself to relax, rolling his shoulders as he tries to shrink his frame. She blows out a breath and walks over, the cuffs of his shirt wrapped around her hands as she sits on the coffee table, his knees bracketing hers as she wraps her arms around herself, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she finds the words she’s looking for.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I…I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and his hand twitches, reaching out for her before he stops himself, his hand forming a fist by his side, “You have nothing to apologise for, Em,” he says, his voice rough, “I just…what happened?” 

She knows if she said she didn’t want to talk about it that he’d drop it, that he’d let it go at least for now, and for a moment she’s tempted. Old habits that died hard calling her back, the empty promises the always offered her a lure she could never quite say no to, somehow never learning that the loneliness they brought weren’t worth the independence they gave her. She shakes it off because she doesn’t want to do that. She wants to tell him, wants him to know this part of her, to let him learn with her the parts of the new version of herself with her. 

She reaches out and grabs his hand, smiling softly as she links their fingers together, “I need you to understand this wasn’t your fault,” she starts with, squeezing his hand tighter when he frowns before he forces a tight nod, “The whiskey?” She says, biting the inside of her cheek, “It was Ian’s favourite. He drank it most nights.” 

Aaron’s hand loosens it grip on hers, the his shoulders slump no longer a conscious attempt to make himself small and unimposing, but his natural reaction to causing her any kind of discomfort. 

“Em,” he breathes out, her name like oxygen he can’t afford to lose as he shakes his head, “Why didn’t you tell me before I opened it? I never would have-”

“I know,” she assures him, wrapping both of her hands around his, “I know, but I didn’t think it would…” she presses her lips together and shakes her head, “I didn’t know that would happen.” She almost doesn’t tell him the rest of it, his reaction to just the whiskey itself enough to break her heart, to cause fractures he had healed to split back open. She knows she has to if she wants this to work, that she doesn’t want to put either of them in this position again, “He…he always called me gorgeous when we were…” she closes her eyes, embarrassment she knows she shouldn’t feel colouring her cheeks, “When we had sex. He’d always call me that. And-”

“I called you gorgeous,” he says, only remembering that he had as she says it, something he’d mumbled against her skin in the heat of the moment.

She nods, her gaze meeting his again, “I think that mixed in with the smell of the whiskey triggered something in my brain,” she hates that she can feel tears burning in her eyes, that this makes her feel so vulnerable in front of a man she’d already been intimate with, but she doesn’t try and stop it, disconnecting one of her hands from around his to wipe her cheek as the tears fall. 

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry,” he rasps, sounding close to tears himself, and she moves forward, sitting on the edge of the table so her knees are jammed up against the couch, her forehead against his, the last bit of tension in her chest dissipating at the smell of coffee on his breath, “I didn’t know.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, honey,” she assures him, “I didn’t know that was going to happen, so how could you?”

He kisses her forehead, the first time he’s touched her of his own accord since she’d walked into the living room, and then he pulls her as close as he can in the strange embrace they’d found themselves in, “We know now.” 

She smiles softly at the firmness in his tone, as if he was determined to remove the word gorgeous from his vocabulary entirely and swear he’d never drink expensive whiskey again. 

She captures his lips in a quick kiss, “Yeah, we know now,” she kisses him again before she stands, encouraging him backwards until she can sit in his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, a position they’d been in just before this all started. Instead of initiating a kiss she curls herself up, her cheek against his chest as she wraps herself around him, intent on being as close as possible. “Thank you for…stopping so quickly,” she says, her smile tight as she pulls away just enough to look up at him, unsure why she feels something close to embarrassed, “I appreciate it.” 

He frowns, the line between his eyebrows so deep she can’t help but reach out and soothe it, her thumb pressed against the bridge of his nose, “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

She thinks she somehow falls even more in love with him because of how incredulous he looks, and she stops herself from telling him, already feeling far too exposed for one evening, “Aaron, honey, you remember what we do for a living right?” She runs her fingers through his hair, “Not everyone stops.” 

He tightens his hold on her, questions she knows he won’t ask now pressed against her skin through the thin material of the shirt that she is wearing, “If there is ever anything else…” he says, his jaw tight, a ripple of self hatred passing through it, “You’ll tell me?” 

She nods pushing her fingers through his hair again, “Unless you take up smoking and dealing in the illegal weapons trade, I think we’ll be okay,” she jokes, her smile faltering when his lips barely twitch with it, the heaviness of what had happened dragging the corners of it down, “I’ll tell you,” she assures him, her lips catching the edge of his jaw as she leans in, determined to remove the tension from it, “I promise.” 

He kisses the top of her head, holding her close, touching her like she was made of glass, “Shall we get some sleep?” 

She knows this isn’t the end of this, that there is more to discuss beyond what had happened tonight, things they still had to learn about each other, but for now she wants it to be over. Wants to fall asleep in his arms, her face pressed against his neck. Comforted by the knowledge that even if her blue eyed monster visited her in her dreams, the smell of whiskey and danger the harbinger she may never truly be free from, that she’d wake up to Aaron and the love he gave her so freely. A debt she’d always repay without question, taking it in turns to be each other’s solid ground. 

“Yeah,” she says, kissing him, “Let’s get some sleep.” 

___

When she wakes up in the morning, she’s alone in bed, the coolness of the sheets only improved by the smell of him lingering on them. 

She wanders out into the apartment, bleary eyed and confused when it’s cold, every window open and letting in the cool morning air. She finds him in the kitchen, the now empty whiskey bottle disappearing from view almost immediately as he throws it into the recycling bin, the thick, expensive glass thunking against the bottom of it. She understands now why he’d opened all the windows in the early spring, the usual warmth of his apartment nowhere to be found. He hadn’t wanted her to smell the liquor in the air, had made sure to remove every reminder of it and she knew if she hadn’t woken up when she had he would have taken the recycling out too. 

“Aaron,” she exclaims, her eyes wide as he turns to look at her, unaware she’d even walked into the room, the sound of the street outside having drowned out her footsteps, “That was worth over $1,000.” 

She isn’t sure why she’s saying it, her gaze still fixed on the now empty bottle, the red neck of it peeking out from the recycling. She only realises he’s in front of her when he hooks his thumb under her chin, encouraging her to look up at him. 

“I don’t care about that,” he says, sounding so sure she can’t think of one reason to argue with him, “I care about you. I never want to…” 

He trails off, his hands tight on her hips as they migrate there as if magnetised, and she nods, wrapping her arms around his neck, her body pressed against his, seeking out his warmth in the cold, “I know,” she replies, stamping her lips against his, “I…thank you.”

It’s not lost on her that he’s thrown away something that was a gift, something he’d kept in the back of his bar cart for a special occasion, and that he’d done it without a second thought. So sure of her, of them, that he hadn’t considered anything else. 

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” he says, his eyebrows furrowed as if it was ridiculous, as if it wasn’t one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for her, past partner’s resistance to even pick up a box of tampons for her on their way home even more absurd than before, “It’s what you do for someone you lo…”

She fights a smile when he trails off, catching himself before he says it, panic she finds adorable flashing in his eyes. She kisses him, drawn forward as she cups the back of his head, holding him in place when she breaks the kiss. Her nose nudging against his as she says the thing that suddenly didn’t feel as revealing any more. Empowerment found in three words that she once saw only vulnerability in. 

“I love you.” 

His smile is answer enough, but he says it back, the words skipping across her skin as he repeats them, the smell of fresh coffee and her future lingering on his breath as he presses his lips against hers. 

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]

SUMMARY — Violet and Reader enjoy their first business trip together in Rome

WORD COUNT — 3.5K

WARNINGS — none

NOTE — And the next installment of our story is finally here! Literally cannot describe how excited I am for you to see where all of this takes them! Thanks again to my gals for beta'ing and editing!

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑰𝑰: 𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝑰𝑵 𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑬

“Oh, are you sure you two will be okay?” Violet asked, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “Because I could cancel, I don’t need to go-”

“Hate to be the voice of reason, but you actually do have to go,” you interrupted as Violet spoke to her children. 

“Mum, we’ll be fine,” Hyacinth assured her. “We know the rules, and you’ll only be gone for a few days.” 

“And you’ve already told Agatha to come check up on us even though we’re not seven,” Gregory rolled his eyes. 

Violet still seemed nervous, but a reassuring kiss from her daughter and your hand on her back was enough to pull her away from her two youngest. 

“Alright, you’ll call me if anything happens? And don’t burn the house down, your grandmother would be rolling in her grave,” Violet warned. 

“We won’t. Now go, you’re going to make yourselves late,” Gregory urged, pushing his mother out of the house, you following after her with a small chuckle. 

“You’ll take good care of her, won’t you?” Hyacinth asked you and you nodded your head. 

“I think she’d argue and say she’d take good care of me, but we’ll just let her think that, huh?” you nudged the teenager’s arm and she smiled. 

“If she gets stressed, make her tea. She’s very British that way,” she whispered. 

“Got it,” you winked. “No sugar, English breakfast?” 

“That’s the one,” Hyacinth confirmed, and you smiled. 

“I’ll see you two when we get back, I wrote my number on the notepad in the office if you can’t get ahold of your mum,” you told both Gregory and Hyacinth. 

“Okay, we get it, you’re reachable, now go, you’re seriously going to miss your flight,” Gregory practically pushed you into the passenger seat of the car and you chuckled, closing the door once you sat down. Violet was already in the driver’s seat, waving to the two children as you pulled out of the driveway and headed out onto the street. 

“Gregory seemed awfully eager to get us out of there,” you looked over at Violet. 

“He’s always been like that when it comes to travel. We missed a flight once because Eloise had wandered off and we couldn’t find her. I think he’s  just been a tad bit traumatized,” Violet admitted. “Do you mind pulling up the itinerary, though? I haven’t had a chance to look through it yet.” 

You nodded your head and pulled out your phone. 

“First is a meeting with one of the companies your family owns that works out of Rome. Then, tonight, there's dinner with the head of your literacy foundation. Tomorrow, you’re scheduled to make an appearance at that fashion fundraiser the Featheringtons are organizing-” 

“Wait, is this the one where I promised Portia I would-” 

“Walk the runway? Yes, yes you did.” 

“Christ, how did that happen?” she groaned. “Actually, I know how it happened. One too many glasses of wine is how it happened.” 

You laughed at her self-recounting how she’d gotten herself into that predicament. 

“There’s no way I can get out of doing that and just attend instead?” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you told her. 

“Is this the ‘different kind of challenge’ you were looking for when you applied?” Violet teased. “I know this isn’t really in your job description, but I appreciate you doing it anyway.” 

“With a life as crazy as yours, I can see why you’d need an assistant. I don’t mind filling that role until Marianne is back,” you assured her. “And it’s nice to think of something other than numbers every once in a while.” 

Violet smiled at your words, and you drove comfortably the rest of the way to the airport where you rushed through security and made it just in time for boarding. You both took advantage of the down time on the flight, getting a few things done here and there, but also taking quick naps to refuel for the next few days, knowing it would be long, and you’d both be without much rest. 

“You know,” Violet began, as you walked with your bags towards a man who held a sign at the arrival terminal with the name Bridgerton written across it, “things are going to be hectic while we’re here, but if we get the chance, there’s some place I’d really like to take you.” 

“Somewhere you’d like to take me?” You looked back at her, surprised. 

“Yes, why is that so shocking?” she chuckled. 

“I-It’s not,” you could feel your cheeks grow warm under her gaze. “It’s just-can I ask where it is?” 

“Actually, no, you may not,” she shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. “It will have to be a surprise.” 

“Promise you’re not taking me somewhere to murder me and dump the body?” you asked, and she laughed. 

“I certainly promise that.” 

“Good, then I can handle a little bit of suspense,” you nodded. 

The man holding the sign led you to your car and, for once, Violet was not in the driver’s seat. You could see how fidgety it made her, but a part of you found it endearing. 

Without so much as a second thought, you placed your hand on hers while going through emails on your laptop, ceasing her movements. 

Too focused on your screen, you didn’t notice the way she looked up at you. The way her blue eyes became almost black, her irises only visible along the edge of such a dilated pupil. The way she had to steady her breathing and try not to think too much about what your touch was doing to her. 

Violet just felt as though it had been so long since anyone had ever comforted her in such a way, that’s why her heart was beating in a manner that felt so unfamiliar to her, that’s why she had to take a moment to compose herself, to remind herself of where she was. There wasn’t anything more to it, it had just been a long time.

She heard your voice ask her a question, but it was muffled, and she had to blink a few times and look over to you. 

“Sorry, can you say that again?” she asked. 

“Are you good to be by yourself for the first fifteen minutes or so?” you asked. “I just need to grab something before I join the meeting.” 

“Should be fine,” she swallowed, noticing how dry her mouth felt. “First fifteen minutes are for catching up anyways.” 

“Perfect, I promise I won’t be long,” you squeezed her hand. “Then afterwards, we can check in at the hotel and you can change before dinner, sounds good?” 

“Sounds good,” she repeated, forcing a small smile. 

You removed your hand from hers, to begin typing something up in an email, and Violet moved her hand immediately to rub the back of her neck, fiddling with the clasp of her necklace. 

For the rest of the drive, Violet’s hands stayed in her lap and she made a point to keep them still. When you arrived at the building where the meeting was to be held, you parted ways briefly. 

Violet made her way inside the familiar building and was immediately greeted by warm smiles and open arms as she was ushered upstairs to the board room. 

“Is it just you who is joining us today Mrs. Bridgerton? I thought you had brought someone else with you.” 

“I have,” she confirmed. “My new financial manager, she’s just gone to run a quick errand, but she assured me she’d be back-” 

“I’m here.” 

Violet turned around at the sound of your voice, noticing the smile on your face as you introduced yourself to the others in the room. 

“I got this for you,” you whispered, handing her a takeaway cup. “You seemed a little stressed in the car.” 

Violet smiled and inhaled the scent coming from the cup. 

English breakfast. Simple, classic, her favourite. 

“Thank you,” she mouthed at you, and you placed a gentle hand on her back, pulling out a seat for her to sit in. 

“So, shall we get to business?”

The meeting went on without any hiccups, the company had been doing well and numbers were increasing each quarter, which was a good sign. Violet had to admit she was finding it hard to concentrate on everything that was being said, her mind wandering here and there. 

She decided it was perfectly unreasonable to blame herself, not when it was so easy to get lost memorizing every line and mark on your face. She told herself it wasn’t different that she was admiring you; Violet had always liked admiring beautiful things. 

“Mrs. Bridgerton?” 

“Hmm, yes, sorry,” she apologized and brought her focus back to the conversation.

She was grateful when the meeting ended, knowing they would be heading back to the hotel and she would be readying herself for dinner while you dealt with a few administrative things. 

“Oh, by the way, I managed to get you out of that thing with the Featheringtons,” you mentioned to her on the way up to your rooms. “Still have to attend obviously, but we managed to work out an alternative.” 

“Really? Oh, that’s wonderful,” Violet sighed, now knowing she was free of that one responsibility was a weight off her shoulders, and she didn’t feel the need to ask you any questions about how you managed to do it. 

You said your goodbyes once you reached your rooms and a part of Violet was a little sad you wouldn’t be attending the dinner with her, but she pushed the feeling out of her heart and focused on the task ahead. There was plenty of work to do and she could not get distracted.

—

“Aren’t you going to come sit with me?” Violet asked, curious as to why you were walking off in another direction at the fundraiser. 

“I have to go take care of a few things,” you informed her. “I hear they’re serving champagne though, go get a glass and relax for a bit,” you suggested. 

Violet nodded her head with a polite smile and you parted ways. She could feel the lenses of the camera following her, like the unrelenting eyes of a watchful hunter, but then again, they were taking pictures of everyone and everything. 

When she sat down, she took a small pocket mirror from her purse and made sure her hair was still clipped up properly and her makeup hadn’t accidentally gotten smudged. 

“Violet!” 

She looked up at the sound of her name, seeing Portia Featherington making her way towards her, a bright smile on her face and a glass of champagne in her hand. 

“Portia, how are you?” Violet stood up and they exchanged kisses on the cheek before both taking their seats once more. 

“Marvelous,” she answered Violet’s question once they were seated again. “Things could not have fallen into place more splendidly for this fundraiser. Prudence, Philipa, and I are so pleased with how it turned out.” 

“And what about Penelope? Have you heard much from her and Colin?” Violet asked, also curious to see if there was any news of her son while he and his partner were on their travels together. 

“She is busy working on that article about the um-oh damn, what is it called again?” 

“The effects the droughts and floods are having on the local population,” Violet said. “Yes, she was telling me about it the last time they called.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Portia smiled. “But she’s been so kind as to write a small piece about this endeavor of her sisters and I. Hopefully it will spread the word and encourage more donations.” 

“Wonderful,” Violet smiled and patted Portia’s back. “And I apologize for not being able to help you like we had previously discussed.” 

“Oh, nonsense,” Portia waved her hand. “Things sorted themselves out quite nicely.” 

“They did, did they?” Violet asked and Portia nodded, just as she saw the signal from her two eldest daughters that they were about to start and she excused herself, going to join them so they could welcome everyone before the show began. 

Violet twiddled her thumbs, quietly wondering to herself where you had gone or what you could possibly need to do right before things were to start, but her attention was drawn away from her thoughts as she heard Portia’s voice ring through the microphone. 

Violet finally took the moment to take stock of all of the intricacies of the decor and wondered how the garden theme would tie into the fashion they were presenting today. 

It quickly became clear that floral patterns and insects were the main inspiration of the designers and it was indeed very true to the Featheringtons' tastes. 

She had leaned back in her seat, her legs crossed and her hands held onto her knee as she watched the models walk the runway. Part of the charm was that the models were mostly members of prominent families who had made donations in order to participate. 

Violet had obviously kept her donation to the cause, but was more than happy to be in the audience, instead of on stage. 

She saw a few faces she had recognized, a smile coming up on her lips appreciating how much fun it seemed everyone was having. Even Prudence and Philipa walked the stage together, wearing complementary outfits. 

Just when she thought things were going to end, there was a last wave of models walking the stage, one by one, in sequence, and suddenly she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her.

She blinked a few times to ensure she wasn’t seeing things and when you certainly remained standing in front of her on the stage, she had to make an extra effort to make sure her jaw didn’t drop. 

You wore an intricate gown that looked as though the skirt was made up of petals, perhaps similar to an upside down tulip. The green fabric that covered your torso mimicked the receptacle of the flower, and the sleeves acted as leaves, adorned with small insects, whose wings fluttered every now and again. 

Violet could feel her mouth begin to go dry, her fingers coming to her lips and curling around her mouth as she drank in every last detail of you.

You were biting back a chuckle at Violet’s reaction, on your walk back towards the end of the stage and Violet was still in her seat, finally taking the time to make the connections as to how you managed to get her out of her commitment. 

As soon as everything was over and had wrapped up, Violet was the first out of her seat, slipping past everyone to head backstage, seeing you change back into the clothes you had arrived in. 

“Were you ever going to tell me you took that bullet for me?” she asked, coming up behind you while you were buttoning up your shirt. 

You turned around, still working at the buttons, a laugh on the tip of your tongue. 

“I thought a surprise might be more fun,” you admitted. “Mrs. Featherington was very nice about it all though, I’m glad I could lend a hand. Both ways.” 

Violet wanted to respond to your comment about the surprise, but she found her eyes lingering on your hands as they travelled along the centre of your shirt. 

“Violet?” 

Violet quickly brought herself out of her trance, a nervous smile coming across her lips. 

“I suppose I owe you one now,” she ended up saying. 

“Just make sure we have time for that surprise, and I think we’ll be even,” you grinned. “Mrs. Featherington wanted a quick chat about something, can I meet you at the car?” 

“Sure, I’ll see you there.” 

Violet chewed on the inside of her cheek as she made her way back to the valet where the driver for the trip was waiting for both of you. 

She got into the car and you joined around five minutes later, two bottles of wine in your hands. 

“A present from the Featheringtons,” you said, handing her one of the bottles. “She said she asked Colin what your favourite was.” 

Violet looked at the bottle in her hands, a reminiscent smile coming across her face. 

“That boy,” she said fondly. “I’ll have to call Portia later to thank her.” 

The driver began the route back to the hotel and you took the time to relax in your seat, closing your eyes for a moment, grateful you didn’t have to answer any emails or resolve any current crises. 

“Maybe an early night is wise,” Violet suggested, noticing your relaxed state. “For both of us.” 

“Yes, especially with that board meeting tomorrow,” you groaned and ran a hand across your face. “No matter what job I get, I never seem to be able to escape those.” 

“Oh, you poor thing,” Violet teased. “We’ll survive. And I promise there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.” 

“Whatever you say, my Lady,” you turned your head over, still leaning it against the headrest and tipped a fake hat towards her, making her chuckle. 

When you arrived at the hotel, you went your separate ways, each to your own rooms. You went straight to bed, but Violet sat on one of the couches, grabbing a glass from the counter and placing it on the small coffee table in front of her. 

As she sat down, she opened the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass, taking her phone and scrolling through her favourites on her contact list before seeing who she was looking for and dialling the number. 

She placed the phone to her ear and listened to it ring a few times before there was a familiar gap signalling someone on the other end had picked up.

“Mum? Is everything alright?” 

“Must something be wrong in order for me to call my daughter?” she chuckled, lifting the wine glass to her lips and taking a sip. 

“No,” Francesca replied with a similar laugh on her lips. “I suppose not.” 

“I just wanted to check in,” Violet said. “Your other siblings are all quite active in the family group chat so I, at least, know they are alive.”

“Is this about me not responding to your message about bringing John over for the long weekend?” Francesca said. “Because I told you I need to talk to him, his family usually does something and since the wedding, we haven’t spent much time with them either and they’re all in town from Scotland.” 

“No, I’m simply teasing,” Violet chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about John, or any of those things, we’ll figure it out, whatever works for you both, I’m sure I’ll survive…” her voice trailed off. 

“Mum, is everything okay?” Frnacesca sensed something on her mother’s mind and attempted to pry. 

“Yes, everything’s fine, dearest,” she assured, sitting up straighter. “I suppose I am just missing you.” 

“I miss you too,” Francesca admitted. “Maybe you could come to one of my shows soon? I know you are very busy with work and I always have rehearsals or am locked away in a practice room, but…I would very much like to see you.” 

“As would I, my darling,” Violet agreed. “As soon as I am back from Rome, we’ll arrange something.” 

“I would love that,” she smiled. “And are you sure everything’s alright? Daphne says you haven’t been up to visit her in a while, that's quite unlike you.” 

“I know it is,” Violet sighed, leaning back into the couch again, sipping her wine. “I don’t know how much Anthony has mentioned to you or your siblings, but there are a few things we’re still dealing with after everything that’s happened with Landon, and I suppose it’s taken up a lot of my time,” she explained. “I would love nothing more than to go see your sister, or my grandchildren, for heaven’s sake, but I barely have enough time to keep my wits about me at the moment.” 

“Ah, so you’re missing being a grandmother,” Francesca teased. 

“Oh, you know I dislike that word,” Violet playfully chastised. “It makes me feel old.” 

“Well it is not my fault both you and Daphne decided to have children young,” Francesca countered and Violet laughed. 

“No, it certainly is not,” she shook her head. 

“Look, Mum, I really want to talk longer, but-” 

“You have to go practice?” Violet asked and Francesca sighed. “Keep me on the line for one song?” 

“Always.” 

Violet waited for a moment as Francesca prepared herself, and before long, the melody of the piano filled her ears. With Francesca, even if it was the same song, each time, there was something new. Violet could always tell. 

She tried to let all of her feelings, her worries and anxieties, the confusing thoughts that had been plaguing her mind recently, float away until it was just the music that came across the speaker of the phone until the piece was over and the static silence filled the air. 

“Sleep well, Mum.” 

“I will, my dear. I’ll see you when I get back, and thank you.” 

“Anytime,” Francesca said softly. “I love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Violet hung up the phone and sighed, sipping at her wine once more, not thinking she would ever get used to the quiet. 

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling

[stolasdearest]

Hello! Been thinking a lot about Rosie and how I think she’d be lovely at giving people comfort so I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something Rosie x reader with Rosie bringing the reader down from a panic attack? Or just generally calming them down, I guess.

Rosie x Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

ׂׂׂׂૢ Pairing : Rosie x Reader

ׂׂૢ cw : not Proofread

ׂׂૢ Reader is gender neutral

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

♪ she's an awesome advice giver and great at de-escalating situations of any kind so she'd be the go-to person if you needed someone.

♪ Rosie is going through every exercise she knows to ground you and calm you down whether it be a panic attack or you just in general getting really riled up. She is by your side till you tell her you are good to go

♪ a master at hiding the fact shes extremely worried about you, this is skipping and falling over herself if she hears you're in any distress; her sweetie beloved can't be feeling like this! That won't do, she has to fix this.

♪ would frankly like to be by your side constantly if you're prone to anxiety or panic attacks; she's constantly holding your hand and making sure everything isn't becoming too much for you.

♪ Sometimes though; she doesn't know what to do, she kinda just sits next to you if you're in a "nobody talk or touch me, don't even breathe near me" kinda situation she feels helpless while looking at you knowing there's not really anything she can do for you, so she sits with you.

♪ absolutely tries to preemptively stop attacks from happening by removing you from stressful or triggering situations; talking her way out of the conversation so you can take a breather

♪ if you get extremely angry about something she'll sit and listen and even get angry with you; she doesn't rush you or how you feel. First letting you scream,yell or walk it off and then talk to you afterwards

♪ overall an attentive,sweet partner and a very good shoulder to cry on! She's just the sweetest gal in hell <3

Authors note : Again! I've been sick but I'm gonna try and get some more stuff out today! I feel motivated so let's hope nothing ruins that

Taglist : @ihavetoomanyfictionalcrushes @k1y0yo @anni1600 @d0nutsaur

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

It's over! I can't say thank you enough for joining me and my adventures with Hobie and Mariana. I hope you enjoyed them as much as I did. I really grew attached to MJ and Hobie as their story just blossomed before me. While this is the end of the main story, I'll probably have a couple of one shots here and there for them. I just love them so much. Anyway~ once again thank you so much for reading this silly little fic and if you made it this far, I truly appreciate you for reading :)

please leave a kudo on ao3 or a comment <3

~Several Months Later~

MJ is trying to push her way through a rampaging crowd. She’s fighting against the current, but she could care less. The adrenaline pumping through her as she tries to look above the sea of people.

The screaming in her ears is starting to get irritating though. She elbows past a much larger man and finally gets somewhere off to the side where she can get a good visual.

Through the settling dust she sees Spider-Man knocking around the Vulture in the air. She brings her camera up and tries to take a few quick shots before she starts filming. She was getting tired of trying to frame the best front-page photo’s for Spider-Man slander at the Daily Bugle… but none of her other coworkers were willing to get that close to any of the action. She did get hazard pay from it and she was going to milk the cow dry as long as they were paying her.

They didn’t need to know that she’s got a small advantage since her boyfriends the vigilante… at least she feels somewhat safe getting up close to his fights. Even if the so-called vigilante in question does scold her every single time.

She was starting to kind of like it, it was just proof that he cares, not that she’d ever tell Hobie that.

Once she get’s a good enough photo, well, better than what her other coworkers have made in the past. She brings out her phone to film.

This wasn’t for the Daily Bugle, it was for her own personal blogging website. If she was forced by the corporate overloads to make money by slandering her boyfriends name, she could at least run a little side gig that tells the truth.

If she got more website hits on her blog than then Daily Bugle’s she didn’t brag, but god did it boost her ego. Especially since Mr. Jameson was too dull to figure out she was running the blog on the side anyway.

He wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.

She’s scanning her phone to zoom in on Spider-Man and the cocky bastard has the gal to look over to her and shoot a peace sign at the camera. She rolls her eyes.

“As you can see our vigilante isn’t taking this fight very seriously since he’s flirting with the camera… It’ll make a nice fan cam later though.” She says sarcastically as she follows the fight.

Hobie’s high above, fighting the Vulture in the air. That was the nice thing about the Vulture, nothing was close to her on the ground.

Not like the Lizard a few weeks ago who literally flooded the whole street. Her shoes were permanently damaged. Not to mention her sliding down the road like a poor excuse of a slip and slide. She did get some stellar photos and videos from that. Even if she almost fell down into the sewer.

Hobie had finally conceded to the fact she was going to be near his fights. By her volition or by her new job. He couldn’t escape it. So, he did the next best thing, he started to make her gear that she could at least use to help herself.

The first being a web shooter. It wasn’t set up exactly like his. It was discrete enough to look like a watch. It was mostly to stop her from falling, which is how she saved herself from falling into the sewer.

The month it took for her to figure it out and feel comfortable enough to use it was not fun. Hobie was trying to teach her how to swing her weight, but he was a stick in comparison to her. She’s seen what his webs can do, she knows they can hold her easily. It was trusting herself to not screw up the momentum that was scary. That and the fact she didn’t like swinging to begin with. Even if it was Hobie’s favorite, it certainly wasn’t hers. The actions gave her whiplash and made her nauseous.

She only used the web shooter when she absolutely had to. She was more than happy that today Hobie was flying through the sky. She could safely keep her feet on the ground.

The Vulture shots his metal feathers as an attack toward the swinging vigilante. Hobie swings too close toward her and it has MJ running from the projectiles hitting the ground.

She keeps her camera steady as she readjusts to follow the fight again, “The Vulture should really start learning how to aim if he’s going to resort to his feathers.” She comments as she keeps filming. “I mean, how often have they really hit Spider-Man?”

There’s no one really around her but a few reporters on the sides of the streets. Most of them keeping their distance far away. MJ was the only one willing to get this close to the action. Which is why her online blog was skyrocketing in popularity. She didn’t even think about making one until one day Mr. Jameson pissed her off. He was ranting and raving about how the Daily Bugle was the only news source worth listening too because of how good their images were of Spider-Man.

Or as he said, “That no good Spiderpunk running around and destroying our city!”

If she had to bullshit some article calling Hobie Spiderpunk one more time she was going to vomit in Mr. Jameson’s waste basket. It was such a playground taunt. He couldn’t even be more creative!

It also made her eye twitch that her boss was using her perfectly good photos to slander her boyfriend. Hobie didn’t care. In fact, he never looked at a single news source, the most he did was hijack the police scanners to aid him. Didn’t stop the fire burning under her though. If MJ was anything, she was loyal to a fault. So, what if it meant she got a little petty? It was all in good faith. She made her blog that night, as a counter protest to her boss. She never expected her ramblings and bad videos to explode overnight.

It was an added bonus that her boss had also caught wind of her blog and couldn’t do anything about it. He had demanded MJ pay closer attention when she was out, to try and figure out who ran the blog. The man clearly couldn’t put it together that it was her. Who else would get that close to Spider-Man’s fights? She didn’t even disguise her voice, but she made sure to never show her face.

Hobie just found it amusing if anything else. She had a decent following online and made sure her content was always free. If she was going to report on what was happening she wasn’t going to profit off of it. Unlike the Daily Bugle who hid their slanderous newspaper articles behind a paywall. She loved what she did, uncovering stories and being near the action. It gave her a rush like no other. Even if Hobie would wish she wouldn’t get so close.  

This was one of those moments she wished she wasn’t so close.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She’s running from falling building debris. The vulture had taken a large chunk off the old brick building to her left. She could hear the car alarms going off as the falling pieces were crushing the cars underneath. 

She feels arms wrap around her tightly and she stops struggling almost immediately. Looking up to see Hobie’s mask staring down at her. A heavy sigh leaving his mouth.

“You were doing so good this time. Outta way and everythin’.” He teases half-heartedly.

She rolls her eyes before shrugging, “To be fair, I didn’t expect the bird to throw such a hissy fit he’d take out the corner of the building.” She replies.

Hobie sighs and nods. He sets her down a good distance away. “He’s really bloody upset over somethin’… I couldn’t tell ya for the life of me. I tuned him out ages ago.” He turns to dash off and take care of the giant bird man.

“I’m wastin’ my breath, but don’t follow alright.” He tries to tell her. She just hums in acknowledgement and she rushing off right behind him.

She was almost like a shadow with her new job at the Daily Bugle. Always behind him. It still frightened him. Had the rage simmering underneath his the second she was too close to danger. That dread would probably never fully go away. It was just a matter of trusting each other. He’d come running to her if she needed him, and vice versa. The least her could do was arm her so she could defend herself. Not that she needed too much defending. She did explode the Goblin with their own bombs. He knew the dangers that came with being Spider-Man and she had taken them with so much grace and shouldered them with him. It was more than he could ask of anyone.

Yet there she was, next to him, like she was always meant to be.

She grabs a few more photos and is able to catch the end of the fight. Hobie having the Vulture wrapped up in his webs.

“Once again, our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man can be found protecting us! He’s a little cross with me right now so I won’t bug him. I am expecting some fan cams from this footage so don’t let me down!” She signs off her video and shuffles her belongings into her bag.

Hobie turns to see her and she waves in small acknowledgement before jogging off back to her office. He shakes his head but goes to handle the Vulture, knowing he’ll see her later anyway.

Mariana’s curled up on the couch, nursing a half cold tea, when the door gently opens and she hears him kicking off his combat boots.

“Long day?” she calls out to him sitting up to look over at him.

He gives a dry chuckle before walking over to kiss her forehead. “It was more than just the birdman today,” he sighs.

She frowns looking up at him, “Go take a hot shower, I’ll make you something.” She whispers holding his face.

He nods his head and presses another soft kiss to her cheek before walking to the bathroom.

She shakes her head and gets up with a full body stretch. She goes to grab the leftovers from the dinner she cooked earlier. She goes to warm it back up for him, it wasn’t too cold but definitely not as hot as when she originally cooked earlier. It won’t take very long so she starts on a drink too. She goes over to the kettle and starts making him a cup of tea, while also making herself a second cup. Pouring her lukewarm tea down the sink. She leans against the counter and waits for it to heat up.

She doesn’t hear Hobbie come behind her as he wraps his arms around her waist. Pressing his half naked body against hers. She leans her head back to look up at him.

“Ya know, this would be lovelier if you weren’t still slightly wet.” She teases him.

He groans and shoves his face into the crook of her neck. “Don’t care.” He murmurs placing a soft kiss to her shoulder.

She smiles softly and moves her hand to pat his cheek. She doesn’t stop her task of making them tea but it becomes a slightly more difficult task with one hand.

Hobie slowly starts swaying their bodies to an unheard tune in his head. She easily moves with him as she makes their mugs. The silence isn’t stifling, it’s more relaxing than anything. His weight on her is comforting and he places more soft kisses against her skin, moving from her shoulder up her neck, to her cheek, and finally to the corner of her lips.

She turns her head to follow him, chasing his lips with hers. She hums contently against him.

“I have to pour our tea Hobbie.” She whispers against his lips.

He presses another kiss, this one deeper and longer. “Can wait,” He grips her hips to make her turn fully to him. He presses his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

Her hands snake up his arms and down his bare chest, touch feather light. He makes a deep groan in his throat. It has her chuckling softly.

One of his hands goes to grab both her hands, capturing them easily. His other hand moves from her waist to grip the counter behind her. His mouth moving down to her ear, “Watch it…” he whispers, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He presses a kiss under her ear.

She starts to squirm a bit, “Oh piss off!” She giggles her face heating up, “I’m not the one who walked in here half naked.”

He leans back and sighs dramatically. “I haven’t done the laundry in a minute luv.”

She rolls her eyes, “What you need is to just move in already.” She tries to say nonchalantly avoiding looking up at him.

He hums in thought, “Is that you officially asking me or joking?” He teases trying to make her look at him.

Her face grows redder, as she tries to wiggle away from him. He other hand releases hers and he blocks her in against the counter.  Leaning dangerously closer to her.

“I… I want you to move in, I mean you come here every night anyway, I just think it would be easier if-” she’s starting to ramble running over her words.

Hobie cuts her off with his mouth, kissing her once more. Pulling back to smile lazily at her furiously blushing face.

“I’m just teasin’. Course I’ll move in.” he tells him softly.

“Okay, perfect, cool…” she says quietly, eyes avoiding his.

“I’m keepin’ the house boat though. Don’t want to leave all my spider stuff here.” He says seriously.

She laughs with her chest, moving to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’m okay with that.”

He moves to grab her thighs, lifting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She makes a small noise before holding onto him tighter.

“Hobie! What about the tea, and your food!” She tries to scold him, but her laughter gives her away.

“It can wait, just want you right now.” He says walking them to her bedroom.

She leans forward, her small laughter being swallowed by his lips. They fall onto her bed together and her hands move to hold his jaw, deepening the kiss.

If someone told Mariana a year ago she’d be in a relationship with her cities vigilante she’d call them crazy. She’d also find it impossible that her path would have crossed with his to begin with.

She wouldn’t believe anything that’s happened to her this past year of knowing Hobie. She’s felt herself change for the better, becoming braver than ever. He’s everything she could ask for. Parts of her have healed in ways she never thought they could. The scares are still there, but they can fade with time. She doesn’t feel like a dog who’s been kicked one too many times anymore. She’s found her home in his heart. She knows he’ll protect it, like she protects his. It’s precious that she’s found this love and all she wants to do is nurture and grow it.

She loves him and she thinks she could forever.

Tag List: @missshelleyduvall