#this shit was awful going through without telling anyone

[werevampiwolf]

Yeah. At 19, I was finally diagnosed with autism and as unable to live independently without years of occupational therapy and my mother said "fuck that" and threw me out of the house two days later. She'd fought the doctors my entire life to stopbe from being diagnosed, because then that would mean there was something "wrong" with me.

I was homeless for over a year. I'm no longer homeless, mostly due to getting very very lucky with circumstances outside my control (like the fact that I was young enough and had been homeless long enough while continuing to take classes at the local community college to qualify for a government grant for Unaccompanied Homeless Youth, which allowed me to get an apartment. And i was only able to take classes because I was poor enough that the classes were free, and because i had a broken laptop and it never got stolen AND i already knew how to fix computers so I was about to Franken-Computer it into it being and staying at least slightly usable AND the fact that the nearest Starbucks was understanding and didn't throw me out or call the cops when I spent hours in there to do coursework), so my mother takes this as a win. Obviously, the doctor must have been wrong because when I was forced to sink or swim, I've stayed alive (very literally in this case).

I would argue that even now, going on a decade later, I'm not so much "living on my own" as I am "barely surviving", but I try to make it very clear, both to her and to people I tell this story to, that the problem with "Sink or Swim" is that people who sink fucking DROWN.

Because even as someone who was forced, and who managed to just barely keep my head above the water... I'm a very staunch opponent to the idea of Sink or Swim. What I had to live through was horrible, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone else. But not only that, I was very acutely aware that my only options were to figure it out or to quite literally Die.

As someone who survived the extreme of the other side of this coin that OP is talking about... the idea that I or anyone else could manage to survive such circumstances and then turn around and insist that the ends justify the means is both baffling and appalling to me, though I know that it very much happens. I cannot see it as anything other than "I suffered, so you should have to suffer too." It's awful to be on either side of this coin, and if you think it's okay for force people to Sink or Swim, whether you've been in that situation or not, than you can fuck right off with that shit.

Side note, I'm someone with support needs on the higher end of medium. I still can't manage to brush my teeth independently, and I don't manage to feed myself consistently, though I at least manage to do it often enough to get enough calories in me to stay alive (and that's ignoring anything other than calories that make up a healthy and balanced diet, because that's not an option for me. It's eat whatever junk food I manage to get into my my mouth or starve). I have to rely on schedules, because my brain doesn't really understand what hunger feels like. I just eventually feel like I'm going to throw up, and if I'm lucky, my brain figures out that I haven't eaten in all day and that's probably why. But there are days when, even if you put a plate of food in front of me, it wouldn't occur to me to eat it. I will just sit there and stare at it (or into space) without outside promoting to eat. I maybe manage to take out the trash or do laundry every two weeks if I lucky, and sometimes it's only once a month, or less. I have plastic bottles that haven't been taken out in at least six months, and probably closer to a year. Perhaps the only reason I can see the other side of this coin is because I basically live as close to edge as is physically possible without going over the edge, but I really hope that's not it. I don't think people should have to be constantly teetering on the knife-edge of this reality to understand that It's Really Fucking Bad to force people to Sink or Swim, or as I prefer to call it, Survive Or Die.

I don’t think people understand how it is to have been behind on EVERY milestone. Learning how to walk? Late. Learning to read? Late. Learning to use the bathroom independently? Late. Every single milestone was late.

And when you have this, people ask questions. People bully you. Why can’t you shower by yourself at 9,10,15,20? Why can’t you brush your teeth independently and frequently? Why can’t you tie your shoes? Why can’t you do math? Why can’t you do this, or that.

And then there’s the people on social media. “Well I was forced to.” “Well I didn’t have a choice” and that’s understandable and completely valid, but there are people that no matter how much you force them, or neglect them so they “figure it out” they won’t “figure it out”. They’ll die. They’ll starve. They’ll not bathe and be dirty.

Higher support needs people don’t just “figure it out” our brains are wired differently. Our brains don’t get that we HAVE to do these things just to survive. So we don’t. And that sucks.

It’s disheartening to constantly hear people say “well i was forced to” because so was I!! I was forced to do things too! I was neglected too! And guess what? I still didn’t do those things. I STILL wasn’t able to meet those milestones.

The big one that I see is “well I’m forced to talk.” And I get that, but me, a person that’s nonverbal, can’t be forced to talk. No matter if I’m neglected, no matter if my device is taken away or I have no way of communication. I still wouldn’t be able to talk. I CANNOT force myself to talk. Get that through your heads. This is my reality, and although yours sucked there are still some people who cannot do things, and saying that they could if they were “forced” is invalidating of them.

[a-wilson-collector]

I LIVED BITCH

(cw: noncon/rape, guns, disregard for gun safety, family abuse, forced isolation, medical neglect)

wanted to save this post for until i got to a safe place, but now that i am, i can give y'all a reason why i didn't post much if at all.

its mostly because of my family.

on a scale from 1-10 (10 being the worst, 1 being the best) my mom and dad are 10, most of my dad's side of the family is like, 9.5 outside of grandma n pa. they are like an 8 or 7 depending on how pissy/petty i feel about them. my brother is like, 4. and my sister is the only one whose normal about everything so she's a 1.

the reason my mom n dad are so highly rated is because my mom would lowkey ghost me for the entire summer when school stopped, and my dad is, well, according to mom- "he never takes no as an answer."

makes me think about why i always gravitated towards noncon fanfics for wilson/maxwell. Im still working on that.

grandma n pa are 8 because my grandma defends my dad (and pretty much any violent male member of the family) and my grandpa WAVED A FUCKING LOADED GUN IN MY FACE on the day of the move. if his hand was NOT on the trigger, he could've shot me in any part of my body including my head

my brother is a 4 because he hasn't apologized for beating the shit out of me almost every day until i was 16, but he's gotten a lot better at controlling his anger.

my sister was the only one who realized that the only way she was going to stay in my life was being cautious, but also realizing why i wanted out so bad, since she went through most of this herself.

outside of that, i hid most of my art from my family because i could NOT handle the disappointment that my family would show if that their "adorable daughter" drew a guy ripping his face off, or drawing porn (tho that wasnt until years later, obviously.) thats why most of my art is violent or violent in nature. its what i grew up in. constant fights all the time. cps was called a few times but they didnt do anything outside of adding to the trauma pile

im tired and finally in a safe environment where i wont be threatened to be shipped off my dad's place, which, if that was to happen... I'd lose all of my support network, including doctors and psychiatrists. I'd be completely shut off from the outside world, including my boyfriend and friends on discord. in his mind, the internet is the reason i have such high needs, instead of, y'know, THE 'TISM.

as for my past, i have gone by "noonfish" or some variation of that on tumblr, but that was while i was stuck somewhere in the alt-right rabbit hole on yt since most of my family loves trump, which is why i nuked all of them. I am deeply ashamed of my past and i'm still working on it, i know i can be better tomorrow than i was today. If i had a nickel for every time my grandma defended a rapist, I'd have three nickels, which isnt a lot but its weird it happened with three people.

i understand if people also stop following for my previous "ties" to the alt right (i was pretty surface level, mainly memes), however i was like, what, 16? and extremely isolated to boot. Thank fuck i got anti-psychotics. i was losing my mind for YEARS due to undiagnosed schizo-affective disorder, which was in play since i was 8. I still remember the time i missed my bus going home from school in elementary school, and when my mom had me in the car, she drove into a parking space and proceeded to yell at me to stop telling the teachers because "i was scaring them" because i kept seeing shadow people in the hallways. all the doctors just assumed I was being racist or something? im not sure about that but the only thing that came out of that was me getting glasses (which, tbh i did in fact, need)

after that, it went lowkey until middle/high school, where it resurfaced again and will continue until i fucking die, so thats fun. if I didn't have schizo-affective disorder, i probably still would've fallen for the alt-right pipeline on yt when i was a child (because of unsupervised access to the internet), but at least i'd be able to make a coherent statement about it. i still hate all those people that helped make my mental illness worse to the point i thought only ohio existed for like, 6 months. shit was awful.

so yeah, thats why i've been so on n off. hope to get some art soon since its about time i should do a full render. maybe it will be two girls kissing.

[bashirenthusiast]

.

[ellecdc]

how do you think the boys would react to reader telling them that she’s like NEEDY needy (iykyk)

would they do it, or just like get shy and walk off? or? 👀👀👀👀👀👀

mature content ahead: view discretion is advised

So, are they in a relationship yet? I'm going to go with they're in a relationship for this but if you meant they weren't you can feel free to re-ask

James:

chokes on his spit and nearly trips as he turns to look at you in shock (not unpleasant shock, mind you)

"You're what?"

He'd coo in sympathy after you had to embarrassingly repeat yourself in a whisper, rubbing your thighs together desperate for friction

"awe sweets. Okay, come on." and he's leading you by the hand - he's almost more eager than you are as he rushes down the hall

ends up on his knees with his face under your skirt in the closest bathroom - you'd be taken care of for sure 😩

Sirius:

biggest shit eating grin you've ever seen in your life and you almost regret saying anything

I think he'd tease you a little bit: "Awe, poor dolly's feeling needy, hm?" He'd coo in faux sympathy, the bastard

He'd make you tell him exactly what you're looking for. "What do you want, dolly?" 'touch me' "Like this?" and all he'd do is push your hair behind your ear

two can play at that game: 'Fine, I'll go ask someone else.'

He'd let out a horrified squawk and throw you over his shoulder. "Now now, let's not get hasty. I don't want anyone thinking I don't take care of my girl"

bent you over in the nearest broom closet and you both leave flushed and satisfied

Remus:

would smirk at you but continues reading through the first draft of his essay "really dove? now?"

he'd chuckle listening to you pout and get all breathy as you try to sit still "We've got homework, baby girl."

You'd get petulant and lean back in your seat with a huff, crossing your arms.

without even looking, he'd grab the leg of your chair and pull it over towards him - he'd keep his head low and continue making adjustments on his paper as he slips his free hand under your skirt and moves your panties aside.

"Awe, poor dovey - you really were needy weren't you" he'd lightly tease, murmuring softly so only you could hear.

your breath would hitch as he slipped inside of you, earning you a gentle shush as he threatens to stop moving his fingers.

"I'll take care of you but you have to be quiet; only I get to know how pretty you sound, yeah?"

gets you off with just his fingers in the library - makes up for it again later once he's done his essay

Regulus:

he's mean, I'm sorry

he'd make you wait all day

he'd go to class, to every meal, to quidditch practice barely sparing you a glance leaving you all the more desperate

it was painful for him too, mind you. Thinking about you being needy made him needy, and he spent all day dreaming of taking you over and over and over again

but he's a bit of a sadomasochist lol

he'd finally be all wound up after quidditch practice and would pull you roughly into his room and, like he'd been imagining all day, take you over and over and over again

to the point of over stimulation

"Come on amour, you can give me one more, yeah? Wasn't this what you wanted? Weren't you so needy?"

he got three more for his dirty talk alone

Barty:

no questions asked

'Barty?' "Yes Treasure?" 'I...I want, erm....I mean I...I feel kind of needy'

slams book shut and throws it over his shoulder where it lands in the fountain with a splash

"Where are you two going?" his friends ask bemusedly

"I'm going to treat my girl like a slut the way she deserves, Black; if you're not going to help, mind your fucking business"

you spend the rest of the day in his bed, fucking, smoking, eating, fucking, smoking, fucking, reading, fucking again

you'd hardly ever need to worry about feeling needy with him - whenever, wherever, however - consider it done.

[sunderwight]

Thinking about a bingqiu Dreamling AU where Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are both bored deities, just sort of taking a brief sojourn through the mortal world to shoot the shit and see some interesting monster or other that Shen Yuan has heard about, when they come across a tea house and decide to take a break and do some people-watching instead.

Shen Yuan is well into something of a shut-in phase, which Shang Qinghua doesn't like, mostly because when Shen Yuan is in those phases he doesn't do particularly well either. Shen Yuan's a social butterfly, for however little he cares to actually acknowledge it about himself, and his critique of Shang Qinghua's literary masterpieces gets so much harsher when he's not getting enough enrichment.

So when they overhear one of the kitchen boys solemnly insisting that he is going to do everything in his power to never die, and Shen Yuan laments that the boy would probably regret such a wish if it came true, Shang Qinghua decides to bestow a rare bit of godly power onto this mortal and grant his wish.

He doesn't make him a god, of course, that wouldn't even be in his ability. At least, not without using up more time and effort than he's prepared to expend on this one random kid. But immortality on its own is not that difficult. The boy will still finish growing up, and will still be able to be harmed, to know hunger and pain and illness. It just won't ever kill him.

Shen Yuan sighs that it's a cruel thing to do to a mortal, especially one with such low odds of ever cultivating other skills to mitigate the potential torment of it all. But Shang Qinghua just shrugs and they place bets, that this boy will ask for the immortality to be revoked in a hundred years, or two hundred, or so on, or else he won't. Shen Qingqiu approaches the kitchen boy and flusters and bewilders him by telling him to meet him back here again in a hundred years time.

A hundred years later, the tea house is larger. The boy has grown to be a striking young man, who looks at Shen Yuan with wariness and something else, something almost like awe, as he asks what manner of creature he's made this bargain with. Shen Yuan assures him that he has no nefarious intentions, and instead asks Luo Binghe how the past century of his life has gone.

Horribly, at least at first. Binghe's mother had already died by the time they met, but afterwards he managed to earn enough money to travel to a nearby sect. Working in the tea house's kitchen was just a minor stopover along the way. Shen Yuan was wrong, it seems, about his odds of becoming a cultivator -- Luo Binghe earned entry as a disciple.

Yet, he had no success. The master who took him on was unaccountably cruel and mercurial, and Luo Binghe's attempts to cultivate failed. Looking back he sees now that there were many times when he should have died but didn't, but when it was all happening he just thought himself lucky. At least until an enemy sect attacked a cultivation conference, and he suffered mortal wounds that absolutely should have killed him (or anyone) but still didn't die. (No demon race or abyss in this AU, but there are still demonic and fantastical creatures.)

His cruel master, upon witnessing this, accused him of heretical practices and tried to kill him as well by flinging him off the edge of a gorge. The fall was terrible. Binghe lay at the bottom in a horrifying state, injured beyond reason and yet, still, he didn't die. Eventually his body recovered enough for him to drag himself out, and once he did the only thing on his mind was getting revenge. For the next several decades he managed to ingratiate himself to all manner of potential allies, forging alliances, accumulating blackmail, and convincing people that he had to be some powerful cultivator through his supernatural resilience, lack of visible aging, and a lot of bluffing. He got revenge on his old teacher, drove his first sect into ruin, and rose to prominence as a feared and respected leader of the cultivation world.

Shen Yuan listens with clear interest, asking plenty of questions and seemingly quite taken up with the story. At the conclusion, Luo Binghe admits that his actual cultivation is still mostly a matter of smoke and mirrors, and wonders if -- now that the hundred years have passed -- Shen Yuan means to strip his immortality from him.

Shen Yuan asks if Luo Binghe wants that. When Luo Binghe says no, he accepts the answer, and tells him to meet him back here again in another hundred years. Luo Binghe calls after him, but before he can ask anything more, Shen Yuan has disappeared again.

A hundred years later, Binghe arrives back at the tea house with an entourage befitting of an emperor. The tea house has also expanded. Luo Binghe orders a lavish feast from them, which everyone hastens to provide. He's spent the past several decades consolidating his power, forging alliances with key political players via several marriages, producing heirs, and crushing his enemies. As he brags about the state of his massive harem to Shen Yuan, the deity's eyes begin to glaze over. He doesn't seem impressed. He also doesn't seem to care much for the food, and eventually his attention is stolen away by a conversation at another table. The diners are discussing the exploits of a promising new poet and novelist. Try as he might, Luo Binghe fails to regain Shen Yuan's attention before the evening is done. Shen Yuan doesn't think it's a big deal -- after all, if Binghe is still riding on top of the world, he's probably not going to want his immortality gift revoked just yet!

Another hundred years go by. The tea house has returned to a more modest situation, the next time Shen Yuan sets foot in it. He waits an unusually long while for his guest to arrive, and when he does, he's almost stopped at the door by the tea house's servers. It's only when Shen Yuan bids them let him through that Luo Binghe is able to come to the table, almost collapsing against it and desperately falling onto the arrangement of snacks with obvious hunger.

Shen Yuan wonders if this, now, will be when the boy (no longer a boy) asks for the immortality to be revoked. Surprisingly, he finds himself resistant to the idea, even though it's also clear that the game has run too long. Maybe hundred year check-ins were too short? He doesn't like the implications of what's gone on, even if he's not really surprised about it either.

Between desperate mouthfuls of food, Luo Binghe explains that without mastering inedia, going hungry but never dying is a deeply unpleasant experience. Shen Yuan orders more food. Once Binghe has finally eaten his fill, he begins, haltingly, to explain his situation. His clothes are ragged, he is painfully thin, and his gaze is haunted.

Apparently, several of his wives conspired to assassinate him, despite his reputation as unkillable. Realizing that most poisons and such didn't kill him, but that he could still be incapacitated, they hatched a scheme to dose his food with a powerful sleeping agent, and then walled him up in a famous ancestral tomb. They went to great length to ensure that it was impossible to escape from. It took Binghe decades to do it anyway, digging away at the floors, and when he got out he found that his power base had collapsed. In-fighting and the incursion of his enemies had led to the deaths of all of his children, and what wives had survived had either fled or remarried. Not that he particularly wanted them back at that point, since the ones actually most loyal to him had also been killed early on after his own "death". His face marked him, to the eyes of his enemy, as a surviving descendant of himself. He was hunted down, chased across the continent and back again, until he managed to fall into enough obscurity that his pursuers abandoned the chase. Except that he has nothing, and any time he tries to regain something, he runs the risk of being hounded again. Those who might see some potential in him still remember the collapse of his recent "dynasty" and slam doors in his face, or else try and turn him over to those now in power in pursuit of a reward. Those who don't know that much see only a dirty beggar, and usually run him off on that basis instead.

Shen Yuan, almost hesitant, asks if Luo Binghe would like to have his immortality revoked.

Luo Binghe declines. How will he be able to take revenge on those who wronged him if he is dead? He has a hit list a mile long by now.

Which is definitely not the most noble of reasons to persist, but Shen Yuan finds himself reluctant to ask twice. Instead he orders more food, and then even reserves one of the traveler's rooms above the tea house for several days. By then the sky is turning grey, and Luo Binghe is losing his apparent battle with exhaustion. Shen Yuan presses the key into his hand, thinking it's probably not enough, but there are limits to how much gods are supposed to interfere and Shang Qinghua already stretched them to the breaking point with this entire scenario.

He leaves, not seeing the hand that reaches after him just before he is out of the door and gone.

Another hundred years pass. This time, Shen Yuan arrives to find Luo Binghe already waiting for him. He isn't surprised to see that Binghe's situation has visibly improved -- maybe he was keeping closer tabs on him, just a little bit, for this past while. If only to be sure he wouldn't have to warn the tea house workers to expect an unorthodox visitor again! But no, Binghe has been doing well enough for himself. No more harems or thrones, though. He dresses more like a well-off merchant now, deliberately posing as his own mortal descendant rather than as a great immortal cultivator. The food at the table looks far more delicious than usual too (Binghe commandeered the tea house's kitchen himself this time). As they chat, Shen Yuan is regaled with the exploits of Luo Binghe's travels and adventures, how even though he initially set out to claim revenge on those who overthrew him, by the time he was in a position to actually do so they had already died of the usual causes (time, illness, their own schemes backfiring, etc). Subsequently, only their children and grandchildren were left with the scraps of power they had obtained, and when one of those children employed Luo Binghe as a bodyguard, his initial plan to assassinate them eventually fell by the wayside. After all, the wrongdoings weren't actually theirs. From that point, Binghe was able to restore himself to a more comfortable life, joining his new employer on their travels until he had set aside enough earnings to take his leave before his youthful good-looks earned him suspicion. He then began investing in travel and trade, specifically cargo ships, because never spending too long in the same place or around the same people helped disguise his immortality. He had found that, at least for now, this served him better than playing the part of a cultivator. It also gave him time to try and actually repair his ruined cultivation base somewhat, and fighting pirates proved very diverting.

Binghe is midway through recounting his adventures with a gigantic sea monster, while Shen Yuan hangs on every word, when they're interrupted by the arrival of a brash young mistress, clearly wealthy and trained in cultivation. The young lady declares that there is a rumor that a fallen god and a demon meet in this tea house once a century, that they wield strange powers, etc etc, and she intends to interrogate them both with the assistance of her hired muscle and her own spiritual weapon, and discover the truth of the matter. Then she whips out, well, a whip!

Before Shen Yuan can deal with the matter, Luo Binghe is already on his feet, disarming the goons and breaking a few arms in the process. Shen Yuan is so distracted that he almost misses the whip aimed right for him, but before Binghe can catch the barbed weapon with his bare hand (wtf, Binghe, no) Shen Yuan deflects it with a wave of his fan, and then efficiently knocks the troublesome young lady unconscious. The hired muscle flees, Shen Yuan arranges for their assailant to be placed in a room upstairs until she regains consciousness, and he and Binghe resume their meal and conversation in relative peace.

Even though it's clear that Luo Binghe has not yet reached the end of his tolerance for life, Shen Yuan nevertheless finds himself strangely reluctant to part ways at the end of the night. Still, he does, because that's what is expected of him, gently denying Luo Binghe's suggestions that they find some other establishment to continue their conversation at. He also has to investigate these "rumors" that the young lady mentioned. It's probably nothing (Shang Qinghua has a loose tongue when he's drunk, and a lot of imaginative storytellers have frequented this tea house over the years) but he doesn't like being caught unawares like that. Heavenly politics are... complicated, it's best not to court unwanted attention in any capacity.

Another hundred years go by. This time, when they meet at the tea house, Luo Binghe asks Shen Yuan why he keeps it up. Why did he pick Binghe? What is he really after? When Shen Yuan fails to give any kind of clear answer, Luo Binghe shoots his shot and makes a (very obvious) move on him.

Shen Yuan, flustered, gets up and flees. Ignoring Luo Binghe's calls after him. It just doesn't make any sense! Why would Binghe do that?! He's a man who once had a harem of wives in the triple digits! Clearly he's not gay, so what was that all about? Was he just messing with him?! How dare he! Etc, etc.

Another century passes. Luo Binghe waits at the tea house, which has fallen onto hard times again. With the construction of some new roadways, travelers no longer pass through as often. Binghe listens, worried, to the proprietor's laments that this old place will probably not be around in another hundred years. He listens because he has no one else to speak to, because Shen Yuan has not shown up. Not that morning, not during the day, not come evening, and not now that it is closing time. Binghe nevertheless charms and bribes the proprietor to let him stay even after the place has shuttered.

It seems damning, of course. He pressed too hard and now his mysterious benefactor wants nothing more to do with him. Except, no, he refuses to accept that. He's still immortal. And he has gleaned enough of Shen Yuan's character by now that he thinks that even if he was rejected, he would be let down more clearly and gently than this. The more he thinks about it, the less willing Luo Binghe is to believe that he has been deliberately stood up (also, since the tenor of his confession was different from Hob Gadling's, he never delivered an ultimatum about what it might imply when they met up again).

Over the centuries, Luo Binghe has built up a few contacts with similarly strange and supernatural stories. Cultivators, sure, but also others, fortune tellers and people of strange ancestry, questionable abilities, those who have interacted with powerful beings of mysterious provenance. He makes his way to a certain gambling den, frequented often by such people, and while he flashes around enough money to draw curiosity, he collects information. Shen Yuan wasn't the only person who started paying more attention to the kinds of rumors surrounding the two of them after their confrontation with the young cultivator a couple centuries ago. And in fact, Luo Binghe has been spending many, many years trying to find out more about his mystery man. Though, too many potential deities and immortals fit his description for him to have ever conclusively figured much out.

This is how Binghe gets wind of a rumor that an eccentric occultist has somehow captured a god in his basement...

[qwimblenorrisstan]

To Be Known | Azriel x Reader

Summary: You’ve always been afraid to confess to Azriel about your feelings for him, but after a hookup gone wrong, everything begins falling apart, and he’s there to pick up the pieces.

Word Count: ~ 2.4k

Warnings: Drunk ppl, drunk fem reader, allusions to smut, std mentions, bloodwork (doctors), guy being an ahole + taking advantage of drunk reader, scars, angst to comfort

A/N: this request was so good (ty to anon!!), I feel like az always pairs really good with angst to comfort, anyways hope you enjoy<3 (also sorry for lack of posts recently I just had a math+science test back to back and have spent the past few days studying😭)

Requests are open!

Unlike the rest of your friend group, you weren’t special.

You weren’t a High Lord, Spymaster, General, High Lady, Seer, or any special title. You weren’t funny like Mor, witty like Amren, or even talented in much like all of your friends were.

But then again, like your mother had said, opposites always attract.

Maybe that was why had always had a small crush on the Spymaster who was withdrawn and secretive, the opposite of your friendly personality. You could befriend just about anyone, knowing their name, age, and at least a few background details on them in a few minutes, while Azriel was the exact opposite, getting his information on people through other ways.

With his job and his centuries of experience for two different High Lords, it was a wonder he didn’t already know about your crush on him. Maybe it was because, like everyone else, he was focused on the central characters in your friend group.

The three sisters and brothers. It was hard to overlook them, with all their achievements and accomplishments, not to mention the things they’d overcome and their pasts.

Tonight you were all out at Rita’s, Cassian telling awful jokes to Nesta as she rolled her eyes, playfully swatting him on the shoulder, Rhys and Feyre having a drinking competition, Azriel brooding somewhere in the corner, alone because of Elain visiting Autumn Court with Mor for “political purposes” even though everyone knew she wanted to see Lucien.

You were taking a sip of your drink, idly standing at the bar, elbows propped on the table as your eyes raked through the crowd, searching for someone who could offer a decent hookup. Drunk Fae stumbled about, laughing loudly with genuine joy that made your lips twitch up a bit, the music playing in the background also helping your mood as a cool breeze blew through the open area.

“Looking for someone?”

You choked on your drink, alcohol coming back up to sting your throat a second time before you swallowed it all backdown, one hand over your heart as you sighed in relief, looking at Azriel who’d somehow approached without you knowing.

“Mother above, Az, you scared the shit outta me.”

You replied, taking a few more breaths to calm down, turning to face him, back now against the bar table as the shadowsinger looked down at you, hair falling into his eyes in a boyish way that made you giggle as you tried to brush some behind his hair.

“Someone needs a haircut,”

You teased, and a hint of a smile graced his lips.

“I’ll make sure not to go to Mor this time.”

He said, grimacing for a moment at the memory of the awful haircut Mor had given him, insisting he needed it, only to butcher his beautiful dark locks. You could still remember how distraught he’d been after, looking like a puppy that had just been kicked.

“I could do it, my mom used to cut hair, taught me a thing or two,”

You offered with a little shrug, taking another sip of your drink, one you’d already refilled by now. Maybe twice. You couldn’t remember, all you knew was that the hangover in the morning would be brutal.

A chuckle from Azriel made you rub your thighs together as he shook his head in fond exasperation. He swallowed, almost nervously, odd for him, before speaking.

“Maybe next time, though I wouldn’t object if you-“

He was cut short by another male strolling up to you a tad bit too confidently, one arm going to the right of you on the bar table as his eyes met yours.

An old partner. Particularly a fuck-buddy.

The best solution for tonight, really, since Cauldron knows you weren’t bold enough to push anything with Azriel. He was a friend, nothing more, or at least you tried to convince yourself. He still hadn’t gotten over Elain, or you thought he hadn’t yet, and you didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship or making things awkward between the two of you because of your desires the the crush you’d kept secret for years.

Your fuck-buddy’s eyes met yours, and you swallowed, glancing at Azriel as he watched the silent interaction the two of you had before giving a terse nod and walking away. You would’ve noticed how his eyes narrowed, or how he looked stiff if you hadn’t taken a few too many sips between talking with those at Rita’s tonight.

“Want to take this back to my place?”

The male drawled, arm sliding around your waist as he began guiding you to the exit around the side, where people could discreetly leave. Neither of you was beating around the bush, and you rarely did anyway. You both just needed a release, or at least you did.

“Mm..sure.”

You murmured, body hot now, thinking about Azriel instead of the male leading you to his old home, wishing it was Azriel’s hands on you, wishing you knew what it felt like to know him more, deeper than just the tip of the iceberg you’d touched.

~

Weeks had passed since that night, you’d woken up cold and alone in the male’s bed, gotten up, and collected your clothes before walking your ass back to the townhouse while your head had felt like someone split it open.

You had vowed not to go drinking for a while now.

And things had gotten weird between you and Azriel Joe, too. He was avoiding you, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, you could tell.

When he heard your footsteps, he left the room almost immediately, hell, even his shadows were avoiding you, not following you like loyal dogs per usual, just one or two to make sure you were safe at all times like he did for every member of the Inner Circle. His jaw was clenched every time he was in a room with you, and he wouldn’t look you in the eye, maybe couldn’t.

You barely remembered what had happened that night other than a few blurry memories of conversations and whatnot; so you didn’t know if you’d said something stupid and messed it up, or he thought you were a whore for going out with that other male and leaving him all alone.

The more you thought about it, the more you thought the latter was more likely.

It didn’t help that just a few days later, amidst all your worries, you’d decided to take a little walk through Velaris to get some outside time and a serotonin boost, only for the exact opposite to happen when you were met with your previous fuck-buddy from that night weeks ago screaming in your face, yanking you down a small alleyway to properly yell at you.

“Nasty bitch, gave me a disease! If you’re going to be a whore, at least keep your fucking viruses to yourself-!”

Horror shot through you at his words. You didn’t have any sort of STD, not that you knew of at least, and if you’d spread the theoretical disease to him…He might be an asshole, but no one deserves that.

Unsure what to do as tears welled in your eyes and fell, you began trying to ignore him as you turned and dashed out of the alleyway, the loose clothing you were wearing helping you to slightly outpace him through the streets, avoiding the children and Fae on them, not to mention the vendors and toys strewn about.

He pursued you, screaming still, and hot tears of embarrassment pouring down your cheeks as you began to sob, you didn’t even realize you’d outrun him until you were already at the steps to the House of Wind, ascending them, not even bothering to count out the 10,000 steps in your head.

Somehow, through either pure anger or sadness, you reached the top right when your knees gave out, only for Nesta to catch you right before you fell, dressed in her training leathers, weapons strapped to her. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion and already-building anger as she saw you crying your eyes out.

“What’s wrong?”

She demanded, shifting to hold you up fully, carrying you bridal style as she started walking into the House, snapping her fingers once she got inside, and the House listened to her as always, making a warm cup of tea in your favorite flavor, and a comfort meal she knew you loved as she slowly sat you down at the table. The House must’ve deemed it necessary when it added a cushion beneath your butt on the chair, considering your aching legs.

You tried to blubber out an answer amidst the tears, but couldn’t manage to, and her eyes softened as she sighed, sitting down next to you on your right, before seeing that she wasn’t making much progress, and getting back up.

“Eat, we can talk about this later, I’ll go get him.”

You were about to ask who she was going to get, even though a part of you already knew as you saw her walking off in the direction of his room. You began slowly digging into the food, finding yourself to be much hungrier than earlier anticipated. Then again, you’d skipped out on breakfast, expecting to get a big lunch while out and about in Velaris.

Azriel arrived only a moment later, shadows swirling, concern evident on his face as Nesta gave him a stern look and pointed to you before she mouthed “You’re welcome.” to you, and strolled out of the door.

“What happened?”

He asked, smooth voice soaked in worry as he quickly pulled out the same chair Nesta had just been sitting in, sitting in it as it groaned under his weight. One of his wings stretched out in your direction, just barely curling around you.

You swallowed a bite of your food, tears coming back up.

“It’s embarrassing.”

You managed to croak out, and he shook his head.

“I won’t make fun of you, I promise.”

He pledged, and you trusted that promise as you sniffled again, wiping the wetness from your eyes with one hand.

“Me and that male from Rita’s, we slept together, and he just accused me of…of giving him an STD.”

You said, before breaking into sobs again, hands going to cover your face despite the warmth that burned in your cheeks from the shame of being in this situation. His large palm gently brushed over your back as he scooted closer, raising an eyebrow at the cushion in your seat for half a second before his wing curled fully around you; and he pulled you into a surprisingly warm hug.

“I’m sorry.”

He murmured, and your sobs slowly subsided until you had no tears left to cry, but you still held onto him in the hug, hands fisting the back of his shirt, the cloth bunching up beneath your fingers.

“What if I do, though? Have a..virus?”

He gave a little hum of thought.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, do you want to go get tested?”

You gave a sad little nod, a small pout on your lips that made him want to rip apart the male that made you feel this way. He gently picked you up, careful with your sore legs, figuring out what had happened rather quickly after some of his shadows informed him what they’d seen. They also quickly informed him on the full story, and what that male had done. Another job for another day, but he would make sure he paid for it.

Nearly two hours later, you’d had to pee in a cup for Madja to check, and now were getting blood taken to get that tested as well, as well as any other necessary bodily fluids. Symptoms were noted if there were any. It was uncomfortable at best, but Azriel held your hand the entire time, not even wincing when you squeezed his hand a bit too hard for all the scars covering it.

He quickly winnowed the both of you to the House of Wind afterward, having been told the results would take at least a day to get back. He winnowed the both of you straight into his room.

It was dark, curtains drawn and everything, with the barest essentials in it as well as a desk for work, a few maps hanging from the walls, and assortments of fancy knives you knew he must’ve collected over the centuries.

You turned to leave, but his hand grasping your wrist quickly made you turn, tilting your head sideways in mild confusion.

“Stay.”

He begged, looking terrified of what you might say, but also hopeful. You sniffled again, nodding and tentatively following him as he gently led you over to the bed, each move like a new dance, one that neither of you had practiced before, but were willing to try.

He slowly stripped his leathers off, letting you see his scarred body and wings for what it truly was. And for once, the sight of his bare body, while very attractive, didn’t just make you horny or craving him. It made you appreciate him, who he was at his core. The years he’d spent training and honing his body to protect his Court, the scars he’d suffered protecting his loved ones and serving them; even willing to take it to the end.

You appreciated him. Even in the bad lighting of the room, or the thick shadows swirling everywhere, you appreciated Azriel.

And so, in turn, you began slowly tugging your clothes off, leaving only your undergarments on. His eyes ran over you, respectfully as always, but taking in your vulnerability; who you were beneath the covers, before he gave a small nod.

He walked over to his dresser, pulled out one of his more casual shirts; one that was clean that he hadn’t worn in a good while, and walked over to you, standing in front of you as he helped gently tug the opening over your head, guiding your hands to the arm holes, adjusting it for you.

No words were exchanged, and none needed to be, not ad you both crawled into his bed under the blankets, and he enveloped you in an embrace; wings and arms wrapped around you with his head tucked into your neck.

And tonight, you knew for sure that you wouldn’t wake up cold and alone like that night so many weeks ago.

No, tonight, you didn’t need the warmth of passion or lust to keep you from the biting cold, now you had Azriel by your side, and that was more than enough.

[felinecyan]

I Still Believe

[Shota Aizawa and Student!Reader]

Synopsis: All it takes is one person. One person to tell you something you’ve done right. One person to believe in you when no one else will. And that one person could change everything.

WC: 1994

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Platonic, Dadzawa✨

I thought it would be beneficial to start of my Aizawa route with Dadzawa. Hurt/Comfort tropes align with me AND him so well.

『••✎••』

The door of class 1-A's dormitories swung open, the wood and glass making a loud banging noise as it collided with the wall, a cloud of dust appearing and a small dent created in the plaster. Your head hung low, your body leaning on the door, as you stood there, panting, with tears streaming down your face.

You avoided everyone's eyes as you made your way to the common room. You tried to hide your body, pulling your hoodie over your face as you shuffled over, trying not to look at anyone as if they could see right through you. None of them noticed, too preoccupied by your classmate Bakugou's daily tantrum.

You slipped past unnoticed, walking over to the staircase. The class chatter turned to a dull murmur as you went upstairs, your feet taking you to your dorm without a second thought. It was only when you opened the door and looked around your dark and dingy bedroom that the weight came crashing down on you.

Your body crumbled, your knees falling from underneath you as your tears stained the carpet. Your body shook as you sobbed, your hands clutching onto the fabric beneath you as if you'd fall off the earth otherwise.

You knew U.A. was going to be hard; you came prepared, but nothing could have prepared you for this. You felt absolutely horrible. Compared to everyone, it was a slap in the face to say that you weren't good enough. You weren't smart enough; you weren't strong enough.

You weren't good enough.

Everyone in your class was so much better than you. Midoriya was a powerhouse; his Quirk was so powerful it would've made you laugh. Bakugou was a force to be reckoned with; his intelligence and his drive were unmatched. Iida, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu... all of them had amazing Quirks and were incredible at fighting, and yet here you were, at the bottom of the class, not even worthy of being called a hero.

Your parents were right. You weren't fit for this. They had warned you. They told you that even if you were in the top ten in the exam, you weren't meant for U.A., but you didn't listen. You wanted to become a hero; you had the opportunity, so why wouldn't you take it?

You should've listened.

The day was awful. Aizawa had kept his entire attention on you, watching every single move, every single mistake, like a hawk. Being outside the classroom, working on techniques, and using your Quirk was humiliating. The more he watched, the more frustrated he seemed, and the more frustrated he seemed, the worse you were. Even when you'd wake up at ridiculous hours, practicing until your muscles screamed at you, the improvement was not visible.

How would you be a pro if you couldn't even get the basics down?

You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself. You were a mess. You couldn't even breathe properly; your head was pounding, and you felt light-headed. The tears were flowing down your cheeks like a river. Your arms shook as you tried to push yourself up. Your legs felt weak, and you were scared that you would fall again.

Then, a soft knock on your door. You froze.

"Go away," you croaked, your voice hoarse and scratchy. "Please."

The door opened, the hinges creaking softly. You looked over, trying to make out a figure in the darkness, and found yourself staring into two glowing red eyes.

Ah, shit.

You completely forgot about the roll call.

You quickly scrambled to stand, your legs wobbling beneath you as you struggled to stay upright. You tried to wipe away the tears and snot running down your face, not wanting him to see you in such a weak state, but he had already seen everything.

Mr. Aizawa stood there in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, a look of concern written on his face while those beaming red eyes stared into yours, preventing you from doing anything. Still, he said nothing, just waiting. Waiting for you to speak. Waiting for an explanation. Waiting for an excuse.

The silence was suffocating. You hated the way his gaze burned a hole through you. The tension was almost unbearable, and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold it together.

"I... I'm sorry," you managed to say after a few seconds, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

Your body began to shake as the tears started to flow freely again. You tried to hide your face in your hands, ashamed that you were showing so much weakness. You tried to calm yourself, taking deep breaths and wiping your nose, before looking back up to meet his gaze.

The red eyes dissipated, returning to their normal black color. The light from the hallway filtered in through the door and the window, and you were thankful. Now, you didn't have to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"What are you sorry for?"

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, unsure what to say because, truthfully, you had a lot of things to apologize for. You were sorry for your Quirk, sorry for not trying hard enough, sorry for being a disappointment, sorry for wasting his time.

"For... missing roll call." You figured this was a safe answer, the answer that he most likely wanted.

But, oddly enough, you could see a hint of annoyance flash across his face. His hands fell out of his pockets, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Oh, no. This wasn't the answer he wanted, and now you were really in for it.

"And why would that be a problem?"

"Because it's part of the rules, and it shows I'm irresponsible and disrespectful," you muttered, staring at the ground.

"That... might have some validity." He was clearly trying to be polite, but his words stung nonetheless. "However, that's not the real issue, is it?"

His voice was calm, yet it was firm and unyielding. He was expecting an answer.

"Well..." you started, not really knowing how to proceed.

"Do you want to be a hero?"

The question made you freeze, and you had to stop and think. Did you want to be a hero? Of course you did. That was why you were here. It was why you had left your parents, it was why you had trained so hard, why you had studied late at night, why you had worked so hard to be accepted into U.A.

But...

Did you deserve it?

No.

"Of course I do," you replied, nodding your head vigorously. "More than anything."

"Then why do you act like you don't?" He raised an eyebrow, his expression serious. "By your attitude, it seems as if you don't feel you belong here. As if you don't want to be here."

His words struck you harder than any punch ever could. The tears returned, and you fought the urge to sob. You felt so stupid. So pathetic. Here you were, crying when there were other students who had real issues, who had real problems, and yet you couldn't hold it together for a second.

"I..." You struggled to find the right words, the words that would convey just how much you wanted this. How much do you want to become a hero? How much it hurt. How much it killed you inside. "I don't know."

He frowned, his brow furrowing. "You don't know? What kind of answer is that?"

You shook your head, biting your lip. You couldn't bear to look at him.

"I don't... I don't deserve to be here." The words tumbled out before you could stop them. Your eyes widened, and your hands flew to your mouth. You couldn't believe you had just said that.

He looked surprised, but he didn't seem shocked. He seemed almost resigned as if he had expected something along those lines.

"Is that what you think?" he asked quietly. You tried your hardest to read his expression, but his face was completely unreadable.

"I..." You hesitated, unsure if you should say what you really thought, but the stern look he gave you pushed you forward. "Yes."

He let out a deep sigh. "Why?"

You didn't want to answer. You didn't want to tell him that you were afraid, that you weren't good enough.

He waited patiently, his expression neutral. He wasn't going to leave until he had his answer.

"I... I can't do this," you admitted, tears blurring your vision. "I can't keep up. Everyone else is so much better than me, and I just don't see why I should even bother anymore. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I practice, I just end up disappointing everyone."

Aizawa's expression softened slightly, and he uncrossed his arms. He walked closer, and you backed away, not wanting him to see how weak you were—not wanting him to see how vulnerable you were. But he followed, moving closer and closer until he was standing in front of you, inches away from your trembling form.

That's when he bent down, and his hands cupped your chin, forcing you to look up.

"You don't disappoint me." His eyes were kind, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "You're trying. That's more than I can say about many other students in this class."

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. "That's not true! You saw today, I—"

"I saw a student who is willing to do whatever it takes to be the best they can be," he cut in, his voice calm and steady. "That's all anyone can ask for. If you're not giving your all, then what's the point?"

"But... I'm not good enough," you whispered, your lip quivering. "I can't do it."

"Who said that?" His gaze was intense, and his hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek. "Who told you that you couldn't do it?"

The only people who had ever told you that were your parents, but you couldn't tell him that. You couldn't bear to have him look at you with pity. You couldn't bear to have him look at you at all.

You didn't answer. You couldn't answer.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice dropping lower as he took note of your expression. "There's no such thing as not good enough. There's only enough. You are enough. More than enough."

"But-"

"Don't argue with me," he said, shaking his head. "I know what I'm talking about. If you weren't enough, if you weren't worth it, you would've never been accepted into U.A. to begin with. But you're here, and that means you're more than enough. You're worth it. Never forget that."

His words were like a knife through your heart, and the tears flowed freely now. You couldn't stop them even if you tried. You felt so overwhelmed. He was saying all the right things, all the things you had wanted to hear, and it was too much.

You let out a strangled sob, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. His hands ran through your hair, and his voice was soft as he murmured in your ear.

"I've seen potential in you from the start," he said, his words filling you with hope. "I still believe in you. I still see that potential. You just need to believe in yourself, and then you'll start to see that progress within yourself."

You clung to him, your face buried in his chest. His arms were strong, and they felt so safe like nothing could ever hurt you. Like you could never disappoint him.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. It was all you could say.

Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for not giving up on me.

Thank you for being the first one to tell me I was good enough.

[princessbrunette]

dbf!rafe thought he was doing a pretty good job at pretending he didn’t care too much about you. but it was coming to the late afternoon, and he’d driven past you wandering around town on your own wearing one of those stupid little mini skirts you’re crazy about and he had to do his duty and command you come with him. for your safety of course. he’d hate if some sick older guy got his hands on you.

“get in. c’mon.” he’s already acting irritable with you and it only spurs you on to act mischievous.

“why so glum, hm?” you pout, letting a small giggle slip through as you fasten your belt — the friend of your fathers glancing around the area briefly to see if anyone had seen his bosses daughter climb into his car before zipping off.

“what’d i tell you last time i saw you just— just walking around asking for trouble?” he berates and he’s not even sure why he’s so wound up. you just got him so pent up and touchy that he always found himself being this way with you.

“asking for trouble? mr cameron i was just hanging out.” you laugh, stretching your legs and going to rest your feet on his dashboard. he shoves your legs off, sending you a scalding glare.

“in that little skirt? yeah i wasn’t born yesterday, alright— you were probably off meeting guys.” he grumbles and you turn your head to him, heart fluttering at the jealous tone he had failed to conceal.

“oh no, not hanging out with guys my own age… that would be the most awful thing in the world, right?” you sark, and he resents the way he can hear the pretty smile in your voice without even turning his attention away from the road. he huffs out a scoff, shaking his head as he pulls up to the traffic light.

“told your old man i’d look out for you, right so — so i am just telling you that you shouldn’t be wandering around meeting guys dressed like a hooker. i know how guys brains work, okay — i am a guy. s’why i’m taking your ass home where you can’t get into any of that shit.” he rants, and before you can complain about him calling you a hooker your attention is caught by his promise to bring you home and you shoot up in your seat.

“no, please. just— anywhere else. not home.” you suddenly sound serious, and he nearly misses the stoplight turning green to glance at you in confusion.

“and why the hell not?” he drawls and suddenly you’re a lot more quiet. he raises his eyebrows waiting for a response.

“i’m fighting with my parents. i just… i don’t want to see them yet.” you sigh, staring at your manicure in your lap. as much as he wanted to teach you a lesson and drag you back into the house to your father, he knew what it was like to have a rocky relationship with his parents. because of this he sighs after his slight hesitation and turns in the direction away from your house.

“ah… shit, alright fine. the fuck do you wanna go then? gotta drop you somewhere, alright?” he relents and you beam.

“really? thanks mr cameron.” your elated expression calms itself into a pur as you lean across the gear stick and press a kiss to his cheek. he clenches his jaw.

“watch it.”

to this you respond with a giggle and he relaxes a little, knowing he had a little more time with you.

“where do you wanna go then? haven’t got all day, kid m’not a fuckin’ taxi.”

“hmm, your place?” you’re quick with your answer, almost like you had it planned. he’d given in a few times, let you have your way with him even though he knew it put his career on the line — and he told himself and you that this could go on no longer.

he huffs out a laugh, scratching at his cheek and shaking his head, choosing to ignore the suggestion. your bottom lip curls over at this, frowning a little.

“raaafe.” you whine and he resists an eye roll.

“what you’re — you’re serious about that shit?”

“mhm… i missed you…” you coo, and he feels your warm body lean across the centre console again, a clawed hand finding his thigh as you speak into his ear. “c’mon dad.” you groan and he feels a hot rush of blood fly through him at the nickname. god you were sick.

“don’t fuckin’ call me that.” he turns into his driveway at tannyhill, parking up infront of the house haphazardly before turning off the car and not making any move to get out.

“just wanna play a little bit.” you complain, kissing down his white shirt leaving lipgloss prints that he’d soon complain about down the expensive material as he watches you with parted lips, feeling your hot breath fan over his hardening crotch.

“well if you’re gonna suck me off just fuckin’ do it alright. don’t wanna hear that shrill ass little voice unless you’re tellin’ me how good that shit tastes. c’mon.”

you couldn’t help but obey.

[flickering-chandelier]

Second Chance

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Summary: Reader and Cassian have been friends for centuries, but nobody knows that she’s in love with him. Eventually she meets her mate in the market, but when he breaks her heart, Cassian is there to pick up the pieces, and offer her a second chance at love.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

Cassian snickered as he landed on top of you, effectively pinning you beneath him. 

You grunted, “Okay, you win. Get off.”

He cocked his head, grinning. “I don’t know, this is pretty comfy.”

“You’ve proven your point,” you groaned, your head throbbing from hitting it on the ground of the training ring on top of the House. You tried to wiggle out from under him, but it was no use. He was massive, and your body was rendered utterly immobile. 

After another torturous moment, Cassian stood up, offering you his hand. He hoisted you up to your feet and you groaned again. 

“What were you saying about being able to beat me one-on-one?” he smirked. 

You just scowled at him and his smile spread further. He clapped you on the back. You winced at the impact. “Go get some water.”

Normally you would say something snarky about following orders, but your head was still spinning a bit, so you did as you were told without argument. 

You must have looked pretty awful because after a few minutes, Cassian knelt in front of where you sat on the bench, his eyes searching yours. “You okay?”

Nodding as you gulped down more water, you mumbled, “Mmhmm.”

His brow furrowed as he gently felt the back of your head, feeling the growing bump there. “Shit,” he said. “I didn't mean to pin you down that hard. Sorry.”

You shrugged, smiling faintly at your friend. “I knew I couldn’t beat you. It’s my own fault.”

He lightly brushed the hair that had come out of your braid off your face. You pushed down the swell in your chest, as you always did. “I think it’s time for the cool down,” he said, his eyes raking your sweaty, tired body. 

Your eyes widened. “You, the legendary commander of the Illyrian armies, are going to cut training short because you knocked me on my ass?” 

“Only for you,” he winked, offering you his hand again. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You took it, and followed Cassian as he guided you through the stretches. 

This had been your routine for a while. You had been in Rhysand’s inner circle for the last few centuries, and had found your home and family with them. Pretty quickly, you knew you wanted to be useful for more than just your mind, so you had asked Cassian to train you. You had started out at the Illyrian camps, but the way the males there treated you was…unsettling, to say the least. And it made Cassian angrier than you had ever seen him. So now you trained on the top of the House, sometimes accompanied by others, but often it was just the two of you. 

Training with him nearly every day for centuries had brought the two of you very close together. He was definitely the best friend you had ever had. He was your favorite person in the world. The two of you talked about everything.

Well, almost everything.

Even after all this time, butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you watched him, how his muscles stretched and bulged, his brow furrowed in concentration, his tanned skin gleaming with sweat in the morning sun. 

You had been in love with him for a very, very long time.

Frankly, it sucked being in love with your best friend. Your best friend, who flirted shamelessly with nearly everybody, who had a body even the gods were surely jealous of. Who was so kind and good and brave that nobody could ever compare. 

Especially not you.

That was the main problem, really. Why you had never said anything. You knew you could never deserve him, no matter how long you lived. He was legendary. Literally. He was strong, fearless, and so, so kind. And not to harp on this too much but, that body. Compared to him, you were entirely insignificant and you always would be.

So, you suffered in silence. Loved him from afar. And waited for the Mother or the Cauldron or whoever it was that was in charge of your fate and your mate to get their act together.

“What’s running through that pretty head of yours?” Cassian said, glancing over at you.

You reigned in your scowl. Centuries of friendship made it extremely easy for him to read you like a book. “I’m debating whether I hate you for pinning me to the ground like it was nothing, or if I love you for cutting training short,” you said, breathless as you continued to follow him through the stretches. 

He smirked. “Oh, please. You know you love me.”

Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly you grumbled, “Yeah, I know.”

If only he knew. 

---

Inner circle meetings these days were about twenty percent important business, and eighty percent goofing off. 

You loved it.

Seated between Azriel and Amren, with Cassian across from you, you grinned as the warrior picked a fight with Amren.

Azriel and you exchanged amused glances, both knowing that Cassian had never won against Amren, and he certainly wouldn’t start today. 

After they had been squabbling for quite some time about something that you honestly weren’t paying super close attention to, Amren turned to you, snarling, “Can you please tell him he’s a fool?”

Cassian sat back in his chair, clutching his chest, making a great show of being offended.

“Why me?” you asked. 

“He actually listens to you,” Amren said, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

You snorted. “He does not.”

Azriel cut in, smiling faintly. “He does. More than the rest of us, anyway.”

You glanced at Cassian, who just smirked back at you. “What can I say? She’s obviously the smartest one here.”

This, of course, started a whole new round of insults from Amren that left Cassian chuckling to himself, his eyes sparkling as he gazed at you through the entire barrage of Amren’s insults.

Later, you and Cassian were lounging in the sitting room at the House of Wind, after everyone else had wandered off home or gone to bed. 

You were laying down on the couch, reading a book. Cassian was sitting at the far end of said couch, your feet in his lap while he read up on war strategies. 

It was only a matter of time before the romance novel that you were reading got… steamy. 

Cassian immediately noticed the shift in your scent and threw his head back laughing. “Why do you read smut in front of people?”

You kicked his chest lightly, which only made him laugh more. “It’s not like I know when the smutty scenes are going to happen!”

“This one really got to you, huh?” he said, noticing the blush that had risen to your cheeks.

Before you could stop him, he lunged for you, grabbing your book and wrenching it from your hands.

“Noo!” you shrieked, and covered your face in embarrassment as he read aloud.

“His weight on top of me was nearly enough for me to come undone,” he said in a deep, sultry voice. “I couldn’t focus on anything but the power and command in his movements as he grasped both my wrists in one hand and pinned them to the bed above my head.”

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You grabbed for the book, but he was faster and caught you as you moved toward him. His arm wrapped around your waist and he spun you, pinning you to the couch, his weight holding you down for the second time that day.

But, this time was… different. Your bodies were completely flush together, every inch of you touching him. His hair tickled your neck as he looked down at you, your faces a fraction away from each other. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, breathing hard. You could smell it on him too now, the lust. In this moment, he wanted you. You knew he did. Heat went through you in a wave.

And he knew it. 

“This is what you’re into, huh?” he said huskily.

You glared at him, but you knew the lust was still shining in your eyes. 

He smirked. “Is that why you baited me during training today? You wanted to feel me on top of you?”

Yes. “No!” You scowled, pushing his shoulders, but he didn’t move. “I baited you because I wanted to see how long I would last.”

Cassian’s smirk turned positively wolfish, his eyes gleaming in a way you’d never seen before.

You groaned, realizing what you just said. “Not like that.” You pushed against him again. “Get off of me, Cassian!”

He dipped his head lower, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Are you sure you want me to?” he said, his voice low, sultry. You could hardly breathe.

No, of course I don’t want you to. I want to stay here forever and ever.

“Yes,” you ground out. 

His lips darted to your lips for the briefest moment before he pushed off of you, sitting on his knees. After a moment, he handed the book to you. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled.

He smirked. “No, you don’t.”

You couldn’t stop your small smile. “No, I don’t.”

---

For days, you felt rattled by what happened that night. Cassian, of course, seemed relaxed as ever, but you felt yourself blush every time you were around him.

You were in the market, your thoughts lost in Cassian as usual, when someone across the street caught your eye.

He was beautiful. The very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. You felt drawn to him in a way you had never felt before, not even with Cassian.

You stopped in your tracks, unable to take your eyes off him.

After a few moments, he looked up and your eyes met.

And you felt it.

The mating bond that snapped into place. That tethered you permanently to this stranger.

And judging from the look in his eyes, he felt it too.

The stranger made his way over to you, his eyes not wavering from yours.

“Hi,” he said when he was in front of you, like he was in a daze.

“Hi,” you said. “You… felt that too, right?”

He nodded. “I never knew what they meant… what it was supposed to feel like…” he trailed off, just staring at you. “I'm Adonis.”

You introduced yourself and didn't know what to do next. For centuries, you had dreamed of the day that you'd meet your mate. But secretly, you had been waiting for the bond to snap into place with Cassian. You hadn't thought about what you would do if it turned out to be a random stranger.

“Do you… want to go for a walk?” Adonis said, clearly equally unsure of what one was supposed to do upon meeting their mate.

You agreed. And just like that, you were getting to know your mate.

---

You found Rhys, Feyre, and Cassian all in Rhysand's study at the river house. They looked at you questioningly as you walked in.

“Are you okay?” Cassian asked, his voice soft, the way it always was when he was worried about you. “You look… weird.”

“I met my mate today,” you said quietly.

Feyre and Rhysand looked ecstatic. Cassian, though, went perfectly still, his skin turning slightly pale.

“What happened? Who is he?” Feyre asked, her eyes wide in excitement.

You shrugged, briefly explaining how you and Adonis met.

“What's he like?” Rhys asked. “Do you like him?”

“I think so?” You said, noticing how Cassian was still as a statue. “I don't know, it's weird. I feel this tug towards him but I don't know anything about him! I mean, he seems… nice.”

Cassian finally unfroze, to look incredulously at you. “Nice?” He repeated. “That's it? Your mate is nice?”

“We went on a walk and yes, he seems nice,” you blanched, feeling like you should defend your mate but not sure how.

Your friends just stared at you, clearly underwhelmed by your declaration.

“What do I do now?” You asked nobody in particular.

“You keep getting to know him,” Rhys said, lovingly wrapping an arm around Feyre. 

You glanced at Cassian, who suddenly seemed very interested in the carpet.

“Okay,” you said. 

Really, what else could you do?

---

Your relationship with Cassian had felt off ever since you and Adonis had started to get to know each other better.

He still trained you every day, but where he used to be bantering and joking around with you, he was now all business, keeping his physical distance from you. 

It was confusing, having to grapple with your ancient feelings for him and these new blooming ones for your mate. 

After a few weeks of weirdness, you finally snapped. “Did I do something to upset you?” You asked as both of you stretched after a particularly grueling workout.

“No,” he grunted. “Why?”

“You've been acting weird for weeks.”

He glanced at you, his eyes guarded. “No, I haven't.”

“Yes you have, Cass. You've barely talked to me,” you tried to hide the pain in your voice. You didn't want him to know how deeply this ran.

Cassian sighed, pausing his stretching to face you, look you in the eye. “You’re right, I'm sorry. I just… I'm sad, I guess. I've been your number one for centuries and now…” he pushed his hair out of his face. “Things are different now.”

You took a step toward him, your heart cracking. “Is that what you think? Cassian, no matter who my mate is, you'll always be my best friend. And… I could really use my best friend right now.”

Guilt clouded his expression. “I'm sorry. I've been a shitty friend,” he said quietly, moving forward and wrapping you in a tight bear hug. “Are you okay?”

Sighing with relief, leaning into his touch, you said, “I don't know. I'm really excited, obviously, that I finally found him. And I do like him. But I'm also… scared.”

He pulled back to look you in the eye. “Scared? Why?”

“What if he doesn't like me?” You asked quietly. You hadn't been able to voice your fears to anybody else. 

Cassian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would you even think that? Who wouldn't like you?”

I can think of at least one person, you thought, but shoved it down.

You shrugged, not sure what to say.

He murmured your name, moving to gently hold your face in his hands. “He'd be insane to not like you. I mean it.”

Warmth spread through you at his touch, the softness in his voice. “Thanks, Cassian,” you murmured.

Cassian kissed your forehead, then pulled you back into a crushing hug. “Anytime.”

---

Your gut was a bundle of nerves as you met with Adonis again. The two of you had been getting to know each other for the last few weeks, and while you didn't yet feel an electric shock, you were thrilled to have found your mate.

When Adonis showed up though, your nerves only got worse. The look on his face could only mean that he was about to deliver bad news.

The two of you made your way through awkward small talk until he braced his forearms on the table in front of him, and you knew he was about to get down to business.

“So, look. I know we're mates, and I do feel that bond between us, but I can't help but think that maybe the Cauldron was wrong,” he said casually, as if he were telling you it was going to rain later.

Your heart completely plummeted. You tried to maintain your breathing, keep your voice even. “Why do you think that?”

“The attraction’s just not there,” he said matter of factly.

Mind spinning, you repeated, “the… attraction?”

He nodded, like it was obvious.

“You're saying, you think the Cauldron was wrong… because you're not attracted to me.”

“Yes! I'm so glad you get it,” he smiled.

You just looked at him incredulously. “You're serious?”

“Yes?” He raised his eyebrow in question.

“So, you're… you're rejecting the bond?”

“I think that would be best. Don't you?”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to keep your rising fury locked down. “With the way you're acting right now? Actually, yes, I do think it would be best. You're a terrible person,” you stated, determined to keep your tears from falling until you could make it home.

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you.

And right then, you felt it. Despite your anger, it was still painful to have the bond rejected. It felt like you were being torn apart from the inside out, ripping your very being to shreds.

You gripped the table, centuries of training your body and your mind was the only thing that kept you from crying out as the bond broke.

Adonis felt it too, you knew, because he had gone pale as a ghost, his body trembling slightly. 

When the pain had subsided enough, you pushed away from the table, walking home without a backwards glance.

---

You were supposed to meet Cassian for dinner at the House, but you couldn't bear it. You went to your own apartment instead, laying in your bed in the fetal position for what was probably hours, tears streaming down your cheeks until your head was pounding and your eyes were burning.

It was awful, this feeling. How could he be your mate? How could someone like that be who the Mother wanted you with?

Would you never be good enough for anyone? 

And now your hopes of finding a mate were gone forever. Everyone knew that you only got one chance, one mate.

Why did yours have to be so awful?

A knock on your door roused you from your spiraling thoughts.

You just groaned, knowing that Cassian could hear it.

The door opened and you heard his heavy footsteps as he found you in your bed.

He grimaced as soon as he saw the state of you, his eyes flooding with concern. Instantly he was by your side, kneeling in front of you, holding your hand. “What is it?” He asked, his voice soft despite the tautness of his body.

Your voice came out as barely more than a croak. “He rejected the bond.”

Cassian's rage was palpable, filling the room. “What?”

Ashamed, you hid your face in your pillows. You couldn't tell him why. Didn't have the words in you, and you didn't want him to know how much it hurt.

He swore under his breath, then crawled into bed with you, gingerly wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. You buried your face in his chest, breathed in the scent of him. It almost broke your heart even more, knowing he would never feel for you what you felt for him.

His fingers drew small, soothing circles on your back for a long moment until he broke the silence again. “What happened?” He said quietly.

It was a long time before you could answer. But you knew that if you could tell anyone in the world, it would be him. “He's not attracted to me,” you whispered.

Cassian's entire body tensed, his grip on you tightening. “He said that?” He said with lethal calm.

“He did,” you croaked as another tear slid down your cheek.

“I'm going to slaughter him,” he growled, his body trembling as he sat up, taking you with him. “I'm going to rip his skin off his bones--”

He had moved you so you were straddling him, your hands on his shoulders. “No, you won't,” you said gently.

“Why shouldn't I?” He spat, his eyes dark, his hands gripping your waist so hard, it would surely leave a bruise.

“It wouldn't solve anything,” you said sadly. 

Cassian buried his hand in the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to hold his gaze. “You listen to me. He is wrong. He is awful. You are so beautiful. You are so strong and kind and incredible. Do not let him get to you, okay? This is his loss, not yours,” he said, his eyes locked on yours, alight with so much emotion, your eyes welled with tears again.

He pursed his lips, his eyes softening as he pulled you into him again. You cried into his chest. “Why would the Mother do this to me? Why would she choose him?”

“I don't know,” he said sadly, running his hands through your hair gently. “I don't know. Maybe she made a mistake.”

You sniffed. “I don’t know what to do.” 

He kissed your head softly. “You lean on the people who love you. And then you try to move on.”

You cried even harder, and he held you and held you until your sobs diminished and you drifted off to sleep.

---

Cassian barely left your side in the following weeks, his hands always on you, comforting you. Even when he had to go to the Illyrian mountains, he brought you with him. 

It always did something to you, seeing him in command of all those soldiers. His face stern, his body rigid, barking orders at everyone. Despite all the awful things that had happened recently, it still made your toes curl in your boots. 

But even you could only brave the cold for so long to watch Cassian be in command, so you eventually wandered into Rhysand’s mother’s house, a roaring fire already ablaze when you arrived. 

You sat in front of it, warming your hands, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. 

Weeks after the disastrous meeting with your mate, you were finally starting to feel like yourself again, like other things in life mattered more than the jerk who hurt you.

It was mostly Cassian’s steady, comforting presence that had helped you return to yourself, his relentless insistence that you keep up with your training, that you don’t break your routine no matter how much your heart hurt. 

Cassian had been what was keeping you together for a long time, you realized. 

It was this thought that he interrupted, swinging the door open loudly, the snow billowing in behind him. After he had closed the door behind him, you heard his heavy footfalls stop dead in their tracks behind you.

You turned to look at him in confusion, and then you felt it. 

A bond snapped into place. 

A bond that somehow, after all this time, linked you to Cassian.

Your heart began pounding in your chest, your head spinning. “What--”

Before you could finish the thought, he was on top of you, pinning you to the ground, his lips on yours. You always forgot how quickly he could move, how he could be across the room in the blink of an eye with ease.

A moan sounded from you involuntarily as he cupped your cheek gently with his rough hand, his other on the floor next to your head, keeping some of his body weight off you so you wouldn’t be crushed. This seemed to spur him on even more, his tongue delving into your mouth immediately after you had opened your mouth to him. 

“I knew it,” he groaned, kissing your cheeks, your neck, “I knew it should’ve been me.” 

“Cassian,” you gasped, unable to process what was happening, what he just said--

He growled, kissing you again deeply, rocking his hips against yours.

You hated yourself for doing it, especially since you had been dreaming of this very moment for centuries, but you also needed a moment to think, to process. 

“Cassian, wait,” you said breathlessly, putting your hand on his chest. 

He halted immediately, pulling back to hover over you. “I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, smiling to reassure him. He was breathing hard, his eyes locked on yours, trying to decipher if he had done something wrong, you knew. “I mean -- we should definitely continue that later, I just… I don’t understand.”

Cassian rose from on top of you, sitting up. You followed, sitting up to face him. “We’re mates,” he said with a soft smile, his eyes shining. “You and me,” he shook his head in disbelief. 

“I thought you could only have one mate? I thought that was it…” you trailed off, unable to form the words.

He shrugged, grinning. “I guess the Mother decided to give you another chance.”

All you could do was stare at him in disbelief. 

Cassian was actually your mate. Cassian.

His brow furrowed, his expression flooding with fear. “Are you upset?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You gazed at him, at your beautiful, incredible mate. “Cassian, I’ve been in love with you for centuries. I’ve never been happier in my life.”

He made a choking sound. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You bit your lip, pondering how much to tell him. He took your hand in his, scooching closer, hanging on your answer. Finally you leveled your gaze with his. “I don’t deserve you.”

His face contorted in anger then, a look that had never been directed at you before. “Why would you ever think that?”

Incredulously, you gestured to him. “Are you kidding? Look at you! You’re the commander of the Illyrian armies, they’ve literally written about your war tactics in the history books, you’re one of six people in centuries to actually reach Ramiel, you’re so kind and good and--”

Cassian’s lips were on yours before you could continue. “I love you,” he murmured against your lips. “I love you so much.” 

Your heart melted at his words and at his touch. After a few moments, he pulled back to look at you again. “Never say that you’re not good enough ever again. You’ve been in Rhysand's inner circle for centuries for a reason. How do you not see how incredible you are?” 

All you could get out was, “You love me?”

He laughed, the deep sound practically bouncing off the walls, before his expression softened, gazing at you lovingly. “Of course I love you. I was acting so weird after you met Adonis because I had never been so fucking jealous in my life,” he said quietly, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve wished that you were mine for a long, long time.” 

You launched yourself at him and he was ready for you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you kissed him. He laughed against your mouth, holding your body against his. 

Soon, you were completely tangled together, losing yourselves in each other.

Hours later, you were laying on the floor in front of the fire, your legs entwined together, your head on Cassian's chest, his arms around you. 

“After all this time,” you murmured, lost in the memories of all your lonely nights, now knowing that Cassian had felt the same way you did.

He kissed the top of your head. “I'm just glad the Mother finally helped us get together,” he chuckled.

“Me too,” you agreed. “We owe her a lot.”

“We owe her everything,” he said quietly, leaning in to kiss you again. 

You snuggled closer into him, relishing the thought that you would never again be alone.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar

[samfkiszka]

Sea Shanty

★・・・・・・★

Warnings: SMUT. This is all smut. 18+ only! Cursing, alcohol use, oral (female and male receiving), drunk sex, face fucking (barely), minuscule spit kink, awful pirate puns. As always, tell me if I missed anything at all :)

Word count: 2,337

★・・・・・・★

If you had told yourself a week ago that this is how Josh’s halloween party would’ve played out, you’d have laughed in your face. I mean, the situation itself was oddly comical. Trapped in a small bathroom, still clad in the cheaply made pirate costume you had put on, while your best friend’s twin brother pawed drunkenly at you. It was ridiculous. The whole thing was ridiculous.

Hot. Ridiculously hot.

“Jake, this is stupid, w-we should—“

“Oh come on. I’m checking you for scurvy,” he slurs in the stupid British accent he had refused to drop all night.

“God, you’re an idiot,” you groan, fumbling with his belt buckle.

“How the fuck do you get this shit off?” He grumbles, his shaky hands struggling to undo the lace on your corset.

You couldn’t really explain how it had happened. It started off innocently. Someone asking if the two of you were “finally together”. Whatever that had meant. Claiming they loved your couples costume.

It was totally unplanned. You were as shocked as he was when you spotted him pouring entirely too much rum into his red solo cup. How the two of you had both decided to be pirates was a mystery. How it led to the two of you drunkenly attempting to hook up in his bathroom was even more bizarre.

His dumbass pirate themed pickup lines were oddly endearing. Not that’d you’d ever admit it out loud. Future you was going to blame this on the several vodka cranberries you had chugged moments prior.

You push his hands away, struggling yourself to take off the cheap corset. It slides to the ground unceremoniously, followed by Jake’s eyepatch and your bandana.

He starts pressing sloppy kisses to your neck, his hands greedily grabbing at every part of your body that he can reach.

Music blared outside, courtesy of Josh’s carefully curated halloween playlist. It was kind of silly to be seconds away from hooking up with someone while Monster Mash played loudly in the background.

He hikes you up onto the counter, grinning lazily when you wince at the cold marble pressing against your bare thighs. You watch him slide down to his knees, staring up at you with lustful eyes.

“Tell me you don’t want this.”

But you can’t. You’re too drunk to put up a front. Already too fucked out to say no— how could you when he was looking up at you like that?

“I want this. I want you.”

He nods, pushing your dress up higher before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Usually you’d be nervous, especially with him. For fucks sake, he was your best friend’s brother.

But you couldn’t find the energy to care.

He slides them down agonizingly slowly, throwing them onto the bathroom floor without much thought.

“So pretty,” he hums, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into the skin of your inner thigh.

“Jake, let’s speed this process up, huh?”

“Lord, since when are you so demanding?”

“Since forever, catch up.”

There was something comforting about the usual banter you shared not disappearing the second you were nearly naked in front of him.

“I just wanna make you feel good. Is that a crime?”

You roll your eyes, lacing your fingers in his messy hair.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, inching so close you can feel his breath fanning against your aching cunt.

He wastes no time teasing you. From the way he was straining against his pants when you stumbled into the bathroom, you were sure he was as desperate as you were.

He licks a strip through your folds, a groan escaping his lips when you tug at his hair. Thank God Josh had the speakers on full blast. If anyone were listening, the two of you’d be screwed, and not in the way you wanted.

It wasn’t long before you were pulling him flush against you, removing one hand from his hair to bite down on in a feeble attempt to muffle the moans he was eliciting from you.

“Jesus, fuck—“ you throw your head back so hard it slams against the mirror and Jake nearly falls over with how hard he starts laughing, “Shut up, ass.”

But you’re laughing too. Rubbing the back of your head and grimacing, but laughing nonetheless.

“It’s not funny, I’m sorry,” He sighs, wiping his eyes and smudging the egregious amounts of black eyeliner he was wearing.

He stands up unsteadily, nearly falling against the counter in a fit of giggles as he attempts to get closer to you. He cups your cheeks, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips, still struggling to stifle his giggles.

You pull back, panting slightly as your hands grip his top. He continues to caress your cheek, sliding one hand down to shove his pants halfway down his thighs.

“C’mere.” He nods, pulling himself out of his boxers.

You can’t even bother attempting to hide the shock that graces your features. Sure, you’ve heard plenty of stories. Gossip from girls who had claimed to have hooked up with Jake. But you never placed much weight in them. Yeah, he was an attractive guy, but you didn’t spend most of your free time imagining how big he was.

“What? You okay?”

“No, yeah, I’m great,” You sigh, meeting his eyeline. His pupils are blown, and you're sure yours are just as big.

You slide closer, your mind already spinning. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was him, but the room seemed to grow a lot fuzzier the closer you got to having him.

“No, off the counter.”

God, the slight commanding lilt in his voice sent white hot heat right up your spine. You oblige, sliding fully off the counter, entranced by the way he had begun to stroke himself.

“Turn around.”

Again, it feels oddly satisfying to obey him. You turn around, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks are red, your lips are swollen, your dress was falling off your body. Yet, you didn’t seem to feel the least bit embarrassed. Jake came up closer behind you, shoving you down so that you were bent over the counter. The edge dug into your skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the ache between your thighs.

“You’re so fucking hot. Mind if I drop my anchor in your lagoon?”

“Seriously, how many of these do you have?” Your voice comes out strangled and breathless, not even slightly as biting as you wanted it to be.

“I studied up. Had to be prepared.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And yet who’s bent over my bathroom counter?” He whispers into your ear, the smell of rum invading your senses.

“Touché, Kiszka.”

He laughs, pressing another open mouth kiss to your neck before sliding closer behind you. He runs the tip of his dick through you, tapping it against your clit.

“Yeah, touché huh?”

“Jake, I will find someone else to fuck me—“ but you cut yourself off with a soft moan as he slowly slides into you.

“What was that? Hm?”

Cocky shit. Arrogant, egotistical, cocky shit.

He snaps his hips against your ass, giving you no time to adjust to the deliciously painful way he was stretching you out. Usually you’d complain. He had really wasted no energy attempting to ready you for him. But after one too many disgustingly sweet jell-o shots, and a lot of mental preparation, you honestly had no issues. This was a one time thing anyway, better to get it over with quickly, right?

“So fucking tight. You feel so good, leaking all over my cock like that.” His voice was entirely too sweet for the filthy words that were coming from his mouth.

The whole thing was obscene. Watching him in the mirror, the way his face contorted as he fucked you from behind. You hadn’t expected him to be as vocal as he was, but the soft lilting whimpers that were gracing your ears were making your head spin.

“God, you’re so wet. This all for me?” He grunts, his voice nearly drowned out from the indecent noises being made by your bodies colliding.

You manage a weak nod, your hands struggling to grip at anything they can grasp. Your eyes land on him in the mirror. The way his chest heaved, the way the black eyeliner was smudged and running slightly down his cheeks, the way his eyebrows scrunched together. His fingertips dug into your hips as he pulled you impossibly closer, his thrusts growing a lot sloppier.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was because the whole thing was so disgustingly hot, but you already felt way too close.

“You gonna cum for me?” He mutters, so quietly it’s almost like he’s talking to himself.

“Y-yes, fuck, Jesus Christ,” you moan, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood.

He reaches his hand across your body, finding your clit to rub sloppy circles with his fingers.

“C’mon. Wanna feel you cum on my cock, please,” he practically begs “I n-need you to, shit—“

Fuck. Was he always this hot?

You fail to keep your body up, eyes squeezing shut as you feel yourself peaking.

“Fuck, Jake,” you scream, hoping whatever stupid halloween song Josh had queued up was loud enough to drown you out, “Right there.”

You don’t care how pathetic you sound. Jake looked just as fucked out. This wasn’t about control, or power. This was almost animalistic. Purely for pleasure. Purely to get the both of you off.

“I’m-” you gasp, unable to choke out the words as you clench around him, cumming so hard your ears start to ring. He fucks you through it, maintaining a steady pace until your breathing stabilizes. He pulls out, gripping your shoulder and lightly tugging you up.

“On your knees,” he rasps, and you are more than happy to oblige. You sink down, coming into contact with the cold tile floor. He continues stroking himself, lining up with your face.

“Open up.”

Again, it’s simple to follow. You feel no need to refuse. No need to act like you don’t want to listen to his every word.

You open wide, sticking your tongue out slightly. You stare up at him expectantly, excitedly even. It’s hard to hide the fact that your mouth had actually begun to water at the prospect of having him inside it.

He slaps his dick against your tongue, earning a lewd groan from the both of you. He pulls back, much to your dismay, grasping your chin with the hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around him. You weren’t sure what he wanted, but there was still a bubbling sense of excitement in your chest.

He spits directly into your mouth, eyes wide as he watches it slide across your tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” he commands.

You moan again, the feel of his spit mixing with yours enough to make you dizzy once more. He tilts your head up, dropping your chin as he lines up with your face again.

You hum around him as he quickly slides in, your hands skimming up his thighs to steady yourself. He pulls your hair up into a loose ponytail, grunting as he starts to fuck your face. Tears prick your eyes, and you’re sure you looked just as messy as he did. Probably even more so. Spit dripped down your chin, and the only sounds that filled the bathroom were your gags mixed with Jake’s beautiful whines.

“Gonna cum,” he grunts, sliding so far into your mouth that your nose was flush with his stomach. He finishes quickly, tightening his grip on your hair a painful amount. He pulls out just as face, allowing you to gulp down air.

“Lemme see,” he pants, leaning down to watch you stick your tongue out for him again. He smiles, seemingly pleased with the sight before he taps your cheek, “swallow.”

You’d continue to blame the alcohol, but you’d do this sober. If you had known how filthy he was, you’d have done this years ago.

He helps you up off the floor after pulling his pants up. Once you're steadied against the counter he fixes your dress and hands you your corset. You don’t miss how he shoves your discarded panties into his pocket, but you keep quiet. He could do whatever he wanted if he could make you feel like that.

“You good?”

“Hm? Me? I’m great. You?” your voice sounds hoarse and almost disembodied, but it’s hard to miss the satisfaction in it.

“I’m fantastic.”

A beat passes, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. The two of you take the time to catch your breaths, attempting to get your bearings.

“So, um—“

“We should do that again,” he cuts you off, “I mean, if you want.”

“I want. I mean, yeah that would be great,” you stammer.

“Yeah.”

Another beat of silence.

“We probably shouldn’t tell Josh,” you whisper.

“Yeah.” He nods again, “You should probably fix your makeup before we head back out.”

You glance in the mirror. Your mascara was indeed ruined.

“You’re one to talk,” you point out.

He chuckles as he studies his face, using his thumb to swipe at the eyeliner, “Fair point.”

Psycho Killer blared loudly, muffled by the locked bathroom door. The two of you make eye contact, breathing together for a moment.

“We could just go back to my room.”

Yeah. You definitely couldn't blame this on the alcohol anymore.

“Okay.”

“Oh! I got one more. That’s the finest pirate’s booty I’ve ever laid me eyes on.”

“Awful. I rescind my acceptance of your invitation.”

“Woah, too late now! Who else is gonna shiver me timbers?”

You groan, opening the bathroom door and heading to his bedroom anyway.

“What? You don’t want me to scrape the barnacles off your rudder?”

“Jake!”

“Seriously, that’s some treasure chest you got there,” he says in a fit of giggles, following you into his room.

God, you wish you could still blame the alcohol.

[alwaysanundertone]

Day 31: masks | poly! marauders

smut

TW: piv, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), hand job, swallowing, spit, masks, anal plug

You were sat on the grass, your back against a large oak tree as you read a romance novel; well, it was more like a smut novel, you swore you had been reading about the protagonist getting railed for the last hour, the scene kept getting better and you couldn’t put down the book even if you wanted to.

Now the main character was being cornered by her masked boyfriend, you had never heard of anything like that, but you found yourself getting wetter by the minute. You shifted your thighs uncomfortably, looking around to make sure nobody could see you. It was stupid, really, even if somebody saw you, how would they know what you were reading? Still, you felt a bit ashamed, now wishing you had stayed inside.

As you went back to your book, you felt a rustling sound, suddenly you were more alert.

“Boo!” You jumped, your novel flying as you gave a stern look to a goofy looking James.

“What the fuck?”

“Aw, look at her, she got so scared!” Sirius was hanging from a low branch, his long hair tickling your nose.

“How the hell did you got up there without me noticing?”

He smirked, kissing your nose. “I’m not gonna tell you, love, but nice try”

Unfortunately for you, you were too engrossed in the conversation with your two boyfriends to notice your third one scanning through the pages of your discarder book, his eyebrows progressively raising. When you saw him it was too late. He gave you a single glance, and you realized that you were thoroughly fucked, your  face getting hotter by the minute.

Sirius looked at you confused. “Why are you blushing? What are you looking at- Oh” Slowly, his lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Remus, would you read to us?”

You widened your eyes. “NO! I mean- It’s not even interesting”

“Love, if it wasn’t that interesting, I don’t think you would have disappeared on us for two hours” James pecked your burning cheek. “Come on, moony, tell us what she’s been reading”

You covered your face with your hands, making them chuckle. Remus cleared his voice. “She’s reading some freaky smut, let me tell you. There are masks involved”

Sirius raised his brows. “Oh? Masks?”

“She was pushed to the ground, her naked breasts pressing down on the grass as-“

You quickly gathered your belongings, not wanting to hear the freaky shit you’ve been reading out loud. “I’m gonna go, I have to dress up for the Halloween party, bye bye” You quite literally started running, leaving your book behind.

You adjusted the cat woman mask over your face, you had to admit you’ve done an amazing job: the latex dress hugged every curve, the skirt so short it was a miracle if by the end of the night you wouldn’t have flashed anybody. The heels were as comfortable as six-inch heels get, your hair flowed effortlessly at your every movement. You smiled in the mirror; you were really fucking sexy.

You rushed to the door, whistling at Lily who was waiting for you, dressed as Poison Ivy. She raised a brow.

“You’re the one to talk, look at how hot you are!”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Ugh, stop it you’re looking like a model” She smacked your ass as you both made your way to the Gryffindor common room, where the party had started a while ago, drunk people piling on the couch, couples making out in every corner.

You couldn’t find your boyfriends anywhere, but you didn’t give it much thought, knowing they were usually fashionably late.

As you reached for a drink, you felt your skin start to tingle, like someone was watching you. You turned around quickly, but you didn’t see anyone, just a bunch of teenage guys minding their own business. You tried to brush off the feeling, still something felt slightly wrong, you couldn’t quite explain it.

You let yourself be guided to the dancefloor by Lily, but as the minutes passed by, you found yourself growing impatient, wondering where the hell your lovers ended up. It wasn’t like them to not show up, to leave you waiting like this. The more alcohol you ingested, the more you pretended to not care.

As you downed another vodka shot, you realized you desperately had to pee.  You left the dancefloor without telling, heading straight for your room.

Once you opened the door, you were greeted by a firm wall of muscle, a hand sneaking up on your mouth, making you panic.

“Hush now, love, we will play a game” You widened your eyes as Sirius smooth words rolled down his tongue, spoken directly to your ear.  You lift up your gaze, seeing who you assumed to be James in a ghost face mask. You felt your panties get uncomfortably wet.

That’s when Remus emerged from the bathroom, wearing a purge glowing mask, his t-shirt already discarded on the floor.

“I bet she’s so fucking wet right now, aren’t you darling?”

Even though you knew that these were your boyfriends, and they preferred dying then hurting you, there was something about those plastic things that scared you a bit, that got your adrenaline pumping. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see their expressions, or maybe it was simply the fact that they tricked you into this situation. Still, the scariness only added to your arousal.

“On your knees, love” You immediately fell, your knee caps hitting the ground. You felt your hair being tugged down, and you were greeted with no one other then Ghost Riley from Call of Duty.

“Hello, love. Take my pants down, will you?” Your eyes shoot to the still open door; he laughed. “Oh, our shy girl, are you scared about being caught?” You nodded. “Then I guess you should put more effort into making me come quicker.”

You immediately worked his belt open, tugging down his jeans and boxers in a swift motion. You held him in your hand as your lips connected to the head of his cock, your lipstick immediately smudging over the fair skin.

Sirius gripped your hair with more force, tugging you down, slightly triggering your gag reflex. As you worked on getting him off, you felt some rustling behind you, then a pair of strong hands was gripping your hips backwords, you felt something probing at your entrance.

“She’s really fucking wet” James exhaled behind you, before pushing it in, your gasp muffled by the soft  skin of your boyfriend’s dick.

“Keep fucking her like that, Jamie, she feels heavenly when she moans around my dick”

Ghostface started to pound his hips into you, his hand circling you to press down on your clit, rubbing it raw.

“Give me your hand, darling” Remus was kneeling beside you, his dick pulled out. You wordlessly reached for it, pumping it with your hand as Sirius rutted into your mouth, your throat already feeling raw.

You felt something probing at your ass, making you gasp in surprise before the plug was being pushed into you, adding a new kind of friction that made you see stars.

“Look at you, princess, do you like being filled up like that? Mh?” Remus reached his hand under you, the position a bit awkward but as soon as he pressed down on your lower belly you couldn’t care less, the pressure making you feel stars.

“I’m fucking close” Sirius was panting on top of you, his movements loosing rhythm as you felt him chasing his orgasm. As soon as you cupped his balls, hollowing your cheeks, he shot his load into your throat. “Don’t swallow yet. Open” You did, showing him his cum on your tongue. As soon as he took off his mask you knew what was coming: you saw him collecting spit in his mouth before letting it dribble onto your tongue, his fluids mixing in your mouth. “Swallow” You did, showing him your clean tongue afterwards.

“What a good girl” He worked on the zip of your dress as James kept rutting into you, reaching down to pinch a nipple, making you nearly scream.

“Hush, you’re our fucktoy, remember? You’re going to take what we’re giving you and you’re going to thank us. Come on, princess, say ‘thank you’.”

You felt tears collecting into your eyelids the more overstimulated you got, still you pumped Remus cock. “Thank… you”

He smiled down at you. “That’s a good girl. Going to come on you princess” He did, his seed covering your ass and a bit remaining into your hand; he saw it. “Lick your hand clean, come on now princess”

You searched his gaze, your eyes nearly closing as you balanced yourself on one hand, licking your hand slowly.

Suddenly, all of the stimulation got to you, you clenched impossibly around James’s dick. “Gonna come, fuck, can I come? Please, I’ve been good”

You felt him chuckle. “Yes, you can come darling” As soon as he said the words, you squeezed him impossibly tight, your head spinning as he followed right after you, finishing inside of you. You felt him give a  few more thrusts before slowly pulling out, his fingers collecting his cum and pushing it right inside of you, making you whimper pathetically.

James cooed. “I know, darling, I know, you’ve been such a good girl. Gonna take off the plug now. Remus, close the door now”

You widened your eyes, your cheeks getting rosy. Sirius saw that, and he was quick on reassuring you. “Don’t worry love, we casted a spell. No one saw you, we know you don’t want that”

You deflated, letting them scoop you up from the floor, bathing you in hot water. As James lathered soap on you, you let yourself fall against Remus, sighing.

It was Sirius who broke the silence. “Now, tell us that we’re way better than your book boyfriends”

“Fuck off”

KINKTOBER IS OFFICIALLY OVER :( I’m kinda sad about it, yes it was stressing me out a bit but I still enjoyed interacting with you and seeing your appreciation 🩷 Hope you liked it, I’m really proud of myself for not missing a single day tbh🤍🫂

NOW I’M TAKING A WEEK OR TWO OF HIATUS BEFORE POSTING MORE STORIES! If you have some requests send them in, I love receiving them!

taglist: IF YOU WANT TO STAY ON MY TAGLIST AFTER KINKTOBER TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS @consciouscarrot @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @remussbitch @sammyreid

[strangersteddierthings]

I love a good S3 Steddie AU so—

Eddie and Robin were friends in high school, and every time they needed cover they would pretend to be dating.

So she starts working at Scoops, sees Steve not knowing he’s different now, and as a defense mechanism tells him about her “boyfriend”

Then they become buds but she still doesn’t correct the record, because she would have to explain why she lied

So Eddie comes into the shop and she’s like “That’s him!” and Steve is “🥺”

Because he and Eddie have been dating for months

THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT AT THAT LAST LINE NONNY. This story starts on July 1st (S3E3), so after they've cracked the Russian code.

-

It takes a full month of working at Scoops to get Robin to be more chill around him. He gets it. He was never outright mean to her but he was a dick in high school and his reputation lingers.

He's happy now that she's graduated from quietly distrusting him to outright teasing him. He's pretty sure it means they're friends now, or something like it. She even made that white board to mock his inability to flirt a few weeks ago. He knows he'll never get a tally in the You Rule category because he's not actually trying to flirt with anyone, what with him having a boyfriend of his own. Not that he can brag about his boyfriend as much as Robin brags about her boyfriend.

And, Jesus, did she brag at first. Steve had been convinced it was a new romance, and therefore she was still in the honeymoon phase, except she said they'd been dating since she was a freshman. With senior year starting for her in September, Steve's a little jealous.

He hopes that he and Eddie never leave their honeymoon phase. It's only been three months, and Steve's in awe that Eddie even bothered to look his way after how he'd been in school. Still in awe that Eddie wants more with Steve than just the physical. That Eddie wants cuddles during a movie, and sappy hand holding while they just chat, and to hold Steve after a nightmare on the rare occasion they get to share a bed through the night.

Anyway, the point. Robin is something of a friend and Steve's pleased about it. They have to be friends now, right? They cracked a Russian code together! (Steve refuses to give Dustin any credit for their official jump into friendship even though they wouldn't have had a Russian code to crack without him.)

"Are you and the Boy going to do anything for the Fourth?" Steve asks apropos nothing after handing off a banana split, leaving no more customers to help currently. He's a little ashamed to admit that he doesn't remember the name of her boyfriend. He's sure she said it at some point, so he's blaming his shit memory for that. But she just refers to him as the Boy, and doesn't find it weird that Steve does, too, so he'll take the win.

"Oh, uh, we haven't really discussed it. I'm scheduled closing on the Fourth so," Robin shrugs.

"We'll be in misery together," Steve says.

"Joy."

It's times like these, where Robin is so deadpan Steve can't tell if she's joking or not. Like maybe they aren't the budding friends Steve thinks they are. She's tough to read, sometimes.

"Well, even with the closing shift, there's still a lot of night left. Great time for fireworks."

"True. I'm sure The Boy is thinking up something as we speak. He likes to surprise me."

Steve's not jealous. He's not. He knows that Eddie would surprise him if they didn't have to be so secret about it all.

They do have plans for after Steve gets off work on the Fourth to go to the carnival. It's not strange for friends to go together. Maybe Steve can convince Robin come and to bring the Boy and they can just be a group of friends hanging out?

"Well, if he hasn't planned anything, maybe you and he will want to come hang out at the carnival? I'm going with a friend, maybe we'd see each other."

Robin levels him with a look, eyes squinted in judgement. "Your friends, the children?"

"I have more friends than just children!"

"I literally do not believe you. Why don't any of your age appropriate friends come bother you here, like all those kids?"

It's a valid question, Steve can concede. "That's because I do not want him to see me in this uniform. I will never live it down."

Robin raises an eyebrow. "Does he even know you work here?"

"Absolutely not. So if you do bump into us at the carnival, you are not allowed to say our place of employment. I'm serious, Robin. This will ruin me. You can say 'the mall' because that's all I'll say about it."

Robin's grin turns mischievous. "So, what I'm hearing is, I have blackmail material against the Steve Harrington?"

Steve groans. She's joking. He's like... 80% sure she's joking. He makes a mental note to ask Eddie if he knows Robin.

"Oh shit!" Robin calls out, surprised but delighted. Steve whips his head to her, and sees she's looking out the front door and through a sea of people.

"What, is it Dustin? Russians?" Steve joins her side quickly trying to see what she sees.

"No, it's-" she cuts herself off and Steve turns his head to look at her, only to find she's already looking at him. "It's my boyfriend. I don't think he's seen me yet. Want to meet him if he comes in?"

"Hell yeah I do. I need to meet the man you won't shut up about," Steve grins at her before turning his attention back to the people. His eyes scan over all of them, trying to figure out which guy looks like he might be Robin's boyfriend. Which, yes, he knows isn't something you can judge based on looks (he and Eddie are a prime example) but still.

And speaking of Eddie- no! No no! He'll never hear the end of it if Eddie sees the stupid sailor outfit. Eddie hasn't spotted him yet, so Steve slides around Robin to be out of eyesight. "You see him?"

"Yeah, he's- oh! I think he's seen me. He's coming this way," almost as an after thought, she adds, "do you remember Eddie Munson?"

Play it cool, Steve. "Uh... yes. Why? Is he coming this way? I thought I saw him out there..." Way to play it cool. If Robin didn't seem so hyped to be seeing her boyfriend, she would absolutely be questioning him.

"Oh. Well, he's my boyfriend, and yes he is."

Steve feels the floor fall out from under him.

The whole world shifts and Steve cannot stay here. He thinks he says something about a bathroom break before ducking into the employees only door, and then his body moves him further still until he's through several other doors and suddenly outside in the heat of the day.

Do you remember Eddie Munson? Well, he's my boyfriend.

He doesn't know what to do with that. Doesn't know how to process it. How to proceed. Eddie is- but he can't- this can't be real. This is a crazy dream, brought on by thoughts of Russians and codes and leftover Upside Down bullshit and he will be waking up anytime now to get ready for work.

Eddie Munson. He's my boyfriend.

He can't be your boyfriend Steve wants to scream. He can't be your boyfriend because he's mine.

Maybe... Maybe it's turning out to be that while Eddie is his boyfriend, he's not Eddie's. Maybe Eddie's never thought of him as a boyfriend.

Every instance runs through his head; all the times Eddie wouldn't stay the night. All the times Eddie told him he couldn't stay at the trailer. Is Eddie actually even in a band or is band practice just a convenient lie that keeps him from having to see Steve while still keeping him in his back pocket?

All the hiding, and the let's keep this just to us for now, and how wonderfully convenient it is that this needs to, has to, be a secret when you're in a queer relationship in a small town.

Steve's a goddman idiot!

Of course, Eddie has a girlfriend. Of course, he agreed to 'see where this thing goes.' This is why Eddie bothered to even look his direction. Because there's no scenario where Steve comes out okay. He can't even tell Robin her boyfriend isn't the fucking golden, perfect boy she brags about because how does he do that without telling her how he knows?

All the worst case scenarios play in his mind. Robin being in on it. Her and Eddie laughing at him behind his back, waiting for the right time to publicly out him. To get whatever revenge they think he owes to them for all his dick behavior in school. His whole relationship being a joke.

He lets out a yell and whips around to punch the wall next to the employee entrance door. The pain grounds him almost immediately and that yell turns into a chokes off sob, his eyes squeezing shut as he leans in to rest his forehead against the wall and take a shuddering breath.

There's no way Robin is in on this. And it was mean of him to think so. If Steve's just been some sort of experiment to Eddie, then that's on Eddie.

And Steve. For being stupid enough to believe anyone would actually be interested in him. For taking one look at Eddie's stupid dimpled smile and tripping over himself to do everything in his power to see it again. For fucking falling in love too fast, too soon, and not asking enough fucking questions and-

Oh.

That's why this hurts so much. That's why he didn't stick around to watch Eddie sweat at seeing his long-term girlfriend and- and whatever the fuck he thought Steve was working together and getting caught in whatever fuckery he's doing.

Steve's gone a fallen in love with the asshole.

He pushes off the wall, takes a deep breath to steel himself, and makes a decision. He's going to confront Eddie on the Fourth, since that's the next day they'll see each other. He'll tell him they're done, and that Eddie needs to come clean to Robin about what he's done, or he will. She deserves to know, and Steve can deal with the consequences.

When he returns the Scoops, there's no sign of Eddie, but Dustin is there.

(What Steve doesn't know is that Robin and Eddie hugged in greeting. Robin asked what he was up to. Eddie told her he was searching for his boyfriend. He works at the mall and Eddie wants to surprise him. Robin doesn't ask who he's looking for, and Eddie doesn't offer, because they both know the importance of coming out on your own terms and in your own time. Robin does ask if he's happy, and Eddie says he didn't know he could be this happy.)

Of course, what follows that is a series of terrible events that result in being stuck in an elevator, captured and tortured by Russians, drugged, and then rescued.

He and Robin end up in a bathroom, puking up their guts, and Robin says, in a Russian accent, "Interrogate me."

Steve chuckles and replies, "Okay. Interrogate you. Sure. Um... when was the last time you peed your pants?"

"Today."

"What?"

"When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw. It was just a little bit, though."

She laughs and he groans. It's definitely still in her system.

"Okay. My turn."

"Hit me."

"Have you..." she starts, leaving a pause as she thinks of what to ask, before ending with, "ever been in love?"

And Steve, horrifyingly, mortifyingly, just starts to cry. He can normally reign this in, has better control than this, but whatever drug is still in his system robs him of that.

In another universe, where Steve is able to control himself, he'd lie. He'd describe Robin, knowing she's happily taken, maybe slide himself under the partition between their stalls so she can reject him to his face, and they can laugh it off, solidifying their friendship.

But that's not what happens.

What happens instead is this: Robin, who does not slide herself across the floor but instead hauls herself upright to stumble around the partition, kneels in front of him as Steve lets out hiccupping sobs in between saying embarrassing things like yes and they don't love me back, they never love me back.

And Robin. Sweet, wonderful Robin, to whom he has been the other person in her years long relationship, tugs his arm until he's no longer hugging the toilet and is instead cradled by Robin. And she hums and assures him that whoever doesn't love him is an idiot and it makes Steve sob harder because she doesn't know and when she learns she's going to hate him.

He cannot let her continue to comfort him while he's crying about her boyfriend. It is with that sobering thought that he's able to win his war against whatever he's been injected with and stop his tears. Just in time, too, because Dustin and Erica find them, and then the Russians do, but so does El and the others.

The world is nothing but Upside Down terror for hours.

When the dust settles, Hopper is dead, and so is Billy, and Steve is sat in the back of an ambulance, hugging Robin around her shoulders as they both look out into the parking lot with matching thousand-yard stares. They've been looked over and deemed okay to go home, so Steve is just waiting for the government men currently raiding what is left of the underground Russain bunker to either find his keys, or not.

If his keys are found, he's Robin's ride. If they aren't, they're both being dropped off by ambulance, which Robin is stressing about because her parents cannot see her come home in the back of an ambulance.

Steve offers her to stay at his house. He thinks it'll be easier to beg her parents for forgiveness than explain this situation. Robin agrees to stay if the ambulance ends up being their ride.

It doesn't, though. It takes an hour after everyone else has left, but someone delivers his keys.

It's eerie, the walk from the front lot around the mall to the back employee lot, so they clasp hands to have something to ground to. There are less people the further they walk. The fire's been contained, probably so the government people can root around the bunker below the mall to discover whatever it was the Russians knew, or know, or whatever.

The back lot is completely empty. Only Steve's car, parked towards the edge of the lot give that his shift yesterday had been an afternoon one, and all the closer parking spaces had been taken.

His car is parked so that the passenger side faces them as they approach. Wordlessly, they break apart, Robin heading for her door and Steve rounding the front of the car to get to the driver's side. Except as soon as he rounds the corner, a figure that was previously crouched or sat in front of the door jumps up, lunging at Steve.

He barely has time to register the voice, a terrified sounding "Stevie!" before Steve back tracks with a yelp, out of reach of the figure. Robin screams when he does, and whoever was lunging at him stops in their tracks, whipping around to look at the other source of the noise.

"Robin?"

It's then that Steve takes in the sight before him. It's Eddie. It was Eddie leaning against his door, waiting for him. Steve's flooded with a rush of love, his stupid brain deciding that Eddie must have been worried when Steve didn't meet him for the carnival. Had come to look for him. But then the reality of the situation settles over him.

That might have been true, but now he's seen that Steve is here with his girlfriend and this isn't how he wanted to do this but he will.

For Robin, he will. She deserves better.

"What are you doing here!? Besides scaring the shit out of us!" Robin yells, rounding the car to punch Eddie in the arm.

"Ow, Buckley, what the fuck!" Eddie rubs the spot she punched him, looking between Robin and Steve with... confusion? Steve is expecting to see maybe some remorse, or guilt, or maybe even glee at the fact stupid Steve Harrington was able to be so easily fooled. He doesn't see any of that, though.

Eddie takes a step towards him, and Steve flinches back.

Robin steps up to Eddie, like she wants to pull Eddie into a hug, but he stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He looks from Robin to Steve again, then back to Robin. Steve can't see his face, his hair hides his profile, but he can see Robin's face. Her confusion, brows furrowed, before her eyes go wide and now she's looking between Steve and Eddie.

Fuck. She's just put it together herself! She's going to hate Steve forever, homewreaker that he is.

"Oh. Oh no," Robin whispers, then says Eddie's name in a devastated tone. "Eddie. Is it-?"

"I-I can't... Robin," Eddie says back, sounding just as hurt.

"No! No, I told him- Eddie, I told him we were dating!" she turns to Steve, then, and blurts, "I'm a lesbian!"

He doesn't know what to do with that information. "What?"

"I lied. Steve, I lied, I'm a lying liar and I'm so sorry," Robin says, shoving Eddie away from herself and towards Steve.

Maybe the drugs are still working because Steve still doesn't understand. "I don't... what?"

"I'm not dating Eddie," Robin says. "I've never dated Eddie, would never date Eddie because I don't want to date boys. Please, Steve, I never meant to make you think-" but she cuts herself off, looking from Steve to Eddie and back, before saying, "I never meant to make you think you were unlovable."

Eddie makes a wounded noise at that. "What did you say to him, Buckley!?"

Robin lied. Robin lied about dating a boy. Because she's not interested in boys? That doesn't make sense. That- oh. She lied about having a boyfriend for the same reason he's lied about not having a boyfriend. Because it isn't safe to not to.

Steve's legs give out, but he doesn't hit the pavement because Eddie catches him and the three of them sob and cling to each other in the dark of the parking lot.

Later, much later, the truth will come out. Steve will learn they've always been each other's covers but never actually together. Robin will apologize because she blames herself for Steve's bathroom, drugged-breakdown, and Steve apologizes for all the awful thoughts he had about Eddie when he thought Eddie was dating them both and lying about it.

Steve will learn that Eddie loves him, too, just as much as Steve loves him.

[melrosing]

got bored made some Lannister ocs

besides Stafford we don’t have names or deaths or anything for Joanna’s other two brothers and her two sisters so since everyone else has ocs I decided I wanted some and it was free real estate ✨ names/ages/personalities under the cut

joanna lannister (247AC - 273AC) guess what i didn't actually make her up but not like we have much detail on her anyway so w/e. eldest child of Jason Lannister & Marla Prester, and just a frustratingly perfect girl (at least as far as Cerella is concerned) who always seems to get her way. has always enjoyed gossip and that becomes an interest in court and politics once she moves to KL at 10 to become one of Queen Rhaella's companions. as a child at the Rock she was best friends with Genna, but it was a complex relationship where Joanna was slightly resentful of Genna's power over her (as Tytos' daughter) and Genna was resentful of Joanna's apparent perfection, and the way she seems to wring an affection out of Tywin where he has none for his siblings. Joanna isn't exactly a mean girl but is well aware of the effect her charisma has on others, and can make you feel like shit by looking straight through you (albeit w a smile on her face) if she doesn't feel you're much worth her time.

stafford lannister (248AC - 299AC) i didn't make him up either but canon says he's a blundering idiot so we'll go w that. Stafford just had the luck to be the firstborn son of a Lannister knight, so he gets wealth and riches with little responsibility to show for it. he's thought of as a bit of a Tytos 2.0 but without his humour or heart of gold. thinks he has a fascinating life but is just rich. tells dreadfully boring stories but never seems to notice the snores. constantly landing himself in shit and waiting to be rescued. that's all there is to say about Stafford.

gerold lannister (249AC - 280AC) yay my first oc. well he's just a bit of a creep really. twin to Cerella, born first of the two. Gerold thinks he's the perfect Lannister specimen (he's more like.... weedy handsome squidward) and figures he ought to have been born in Tywin's place. but somehow he ended up the second son of a fourth son and nothing much is expected of him. he's not much good at anything and noone likes spending any time around him because he's perpetually consumed by bitterness. he's not close to his sister Cerella either, bc he seems to treat her worse than anyone, constantly talking down to her etc and mocking her crush on their cousin Tywin. in his final years, as his other siblings are growing up and moving on w their lives, Gerold remains bitter & stagnant, and no-one cares to see what's up except youngest sibling Loren, who has never been close to his brother but takes pity on him, believes maybe Gerold just likes men (specifically he suspects he likes TYWIN) and Loren is a theatre kid all his friends are gay it's fine. he decides to reach out. except Gerold isn't gay and in a confrontation between the two, Loren discovers that the true object of Gerold's affections is: their sister Cerella!!! who has already been married off to Sumner Crakehall. his secret out, Gerold kills himself shortly after, and Loren never tells anyone what he learnt but is consumed by guilt and disgust for the rest of his days.

cerella crakehall née lannister (249AC - 295AC) younger twin to gerold. Cerella has a cold demeanour but the heart of a romantic. when she was a small child she was in awe of Joanna and followed her everywhere, and Joanna likewise enjoyed Cerella's hero worship and treated her as a mini-me. however, as Joanna blossomed, Cerella felt ugly and awkward by comparison. Joanna only seemed to verify this by gradually ignoring Cerella in favour of Genna, and later in favour of her friends at court it KL. Joanna seems to get everything she wants before she can think to ask for it, whereas people seem to forget Cerella is in the room. and the one thing Cerella has always wanted is Tywin: she thinks they're entirely alike, and she's even modelled herself on him in hope that one day they would make a perfect match. except Joanna gets Tywin too: she has his attention without even seeming to ask for it, and takes him because she can. Cerella thinks she might have got her comeuppance when Jo is sent home from court, after Aerys affections for her become a little too heated. Tywin won't want her now. except he does, and they're betrothed not long after. Cerella, despondent, doesn't argue when she's married off to Lannister bannerman Sumner Crakehall (his second wife), and never returns to the Rock thereafter. she notices Joanna's son training in the yard at Crakehall but wants nothing to do with him; Jaime Lannister will wonder why in all those years his mother's sister never deigns to speak to him.

rowena cary née lannister (255AC - present) her father's favourite (though he dies before she turns six), Rowena looks the spit of her grandmother Rohanne Webber. Jason never knew his mother, and so has highly idealised notions of her (whilst the rest of the Lannisters loathe her for leaving without a trace). he likes the idea that Rowena is Rohanne born again, but wouldn't get away with naming her Rohanne - so names her an approximation. and she's just a fuckin disney princess lol. extremely amiable, not a girl of any great talents but does her best to please everyone. she never sees much of her eldest siblings, who are at court or squiring by the time she's old enough to engage with them, and the twins pay her no particular attention, but the adults around her love indulging her, and she's close to her younger brother Loren. there are no great expectations of Rowena, so despite many great westermen begging her hand, she marries for love to a wealthy merchant of Lannisport. sadly, they're unable to have the children they long for, but enjoy entertaining at their Lannisport manse, and enjoy welcoming nieces and nephews into their home (Tyrion is a regular visitor uwu). w her red hair, people tend to forget she's a Lannister at all, and so does she tbh.

loren lannister (257AC - 297AC) born in what many thought were finally past Marla's childbearing years, Loren is the youngest of Jason's brood. there are no great expectations of Loren, and Loren has none of himself - but in some ways he ends up being the most successful of the bunch, besides Joanna. he likes writing plays, acting in his own plays, and generally getting merry with the folk of Lannisport. the Lannisters of the Rock tend to forget Loren exists because he's seldom there, always in the city instead - till he moves out of the Rock entirely with little fanfare, and uses his inheritance to build a theatre in the middle of town. his plays do well and he's popular with the people, but very much a rich kid cosplaying poor lol. he never marries but has affairs w men and women, and when he hears of a bastard that might be his he throws a load of money their way without checking to see if it's true. Loren enjoys attention and pays close attention to others in turn, but is largely estranged from the Lannisters besides Rowena. after trying and failing to help his estranged brother Gerold, Loren falls into something of a depression for a time, doubting himself and all his instincts - his estrangement from the rest of his family becomes much more definitive as a result. anyway after a fairly prolific career Loren falls from some theatre scaffolding to his death at 40 years old, to the misery of Lannisport and the faint bemusement of the Rock

[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia - part 10 (ona batlle x alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

a/n: this is what everyone meant by communication, right? right??? thank you to @codiemarin once again (and continually throughout this fic) for advice!!

---------

The next few minutes were a blur. Your fight or flight response kicked in, and your brain opted for flight. Before you even registered what was happening, you were in the back of a taxi, heart pounding.

The alcohol in your system was making it hard to think clearly, and as you stumbled out of the taxi and up the stairs to your apartment, your phone buzzed repeatedly. You pulled it out of your bag and groaned when you saw the missed calls and messages from both Ona and Alexia.

“Nope,” you mumbled, and turned your phone off.

When you finally got into your apartment, you kicked your shoes off, got a glass of water, and sat down on your bed with a groan. Your mind kept replaying the evening’s events, your conversation with Ona, your kiss with Alexia, Ona’s face, over and over again. You swore under your breath, falling back on the bed and covering your eyes with your pillow, and despite how wound up you were feeling, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You awoke with a start, sunlight streaming through your bedroom window. Shit, what time was it? Your phone was still off so your alarm hadn’t gone off, but the clock by your bed told you that you had about 15 minutes to get dressed and leave the house for your first physiotherapy session. Ugh, your first session back at the training grounds, where Ona and Alexia would be. Still, by now hopefully training would be in full swing, and the chances of you running into anyone would be fairly low.

As you got to the training ground and made it inside without seeing any of your teammates, you breathed a sigh of relief. You knew you had to face Ona and Alexia, had to talk to them, but you just didn’t know how. You felt awful for betraying Ona like that, and so guilty for using Alexia’s feelings for you. 

The session with the physiotherapist went by quickly, though it didn’t exactly make you feel any better about not being able to play football for the time being. Just being there was hard enough, knowing that your teammates were probably outside right now, kicking a ball around. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts about football as you left that you rounded a corner and ran straight into someone - two someones. 

Ona and Alexia. 

Fuck.

The two women looked at you, their surprised expressions quickly turning to relief.

“Y/N! Thank god you’re okay, we were so worried!” Ona said, breaking the silence. 

“We were trying to reach you all night, did you turn your phone off?” Alexia asked, a concerned frown on her face.

“I- um, yeah,” you stammered. Why wasn’t Ona angry with you?

“Maybe we should talk - all three of us,” Alexia suggested firmly, her captain voice coming out. You knew it wasn’t a suggestion, but an order, and nodded. As much as you didn’t want to face them both right now, it was clear that you needed to talk. 

You followed Alexia in silence to an empty training room, waiting until you were all inside with the door closed to start talking.

“Ona, I’m-” you started, but you were quickly interrupted by Alexia.

“Wait,” she said, holding a hand up. “I would like to go first. Y/N, there’s something you should know. I told you that I have liked you for a long time. That is true, but there’s something I didn’t tell you. I have also liked Ona for a long time.”

Wait- Alexia liked Ona? Romantically? You frowned and opened your mouth, but Alexia quickly cut you off again. 

“I’m still talking. Do you like me? As in, do you have a crush on me?” she asked, using air quotes around the word ‘crush’, which you supposed was fair. The way you felt was so much bigger than just a crush.

You glanced at Ona, who was watching you intently, and winced. “I’m sorry, Oni, but, yes, Ale. But, Oni, I love you as well, I promise.”

“Okay,” Alexia said calmly. “Oni, would you like to tell Y/N about your feelings?”

Ona blushed, looking down at the ground. “I love you, Y/N, but I- I also like Ale. A lot. I have for a long time, I just didn’t realise it.”

Okay, now you felt like you had to sit down. So, Alexia liked both of you, and Ona liked both of you, and you liked both of them? 

“Last week,” Alexia kept talking. There was more? “Ona and I kissed.”

Wait.

What?

“What?” you asked, your brain unable to comprehend what Alexia had just said.

“Last week, a week ago today, actually, Ona and I kissed. It only happened once, but it happened. That was when Ona realised her feelings for me,” the captain explained.

“So… on Monday, the day after I went to your place and we kissed,” you said, turning to Ona. “You kissed Ale?”

Ona nodded, biting her lip. 

“You kissed a week ago and you didn’t tell me?” you asked, frowning. 

“Ye-es, but-” Ona started, only for Alexia to cut her off as well.

“Si. Ona felt guilty and left immediately, but then we thought of something. She figured that you liked me, and we thought, what if all three of us could be together?”

You let out a harsh laugh, taking both women by surprise. “What?”

Alexia’s face remained composed. “What if all three of us could be together? You like me and Ona, Ona likes you and me, and I like both of you. What if we could all be together?”

Your brain felt like it was melting. “Wait, and you thought of this last week?”

The blonde nodded. “Si.”

“Is that why you were acting so weird all week, why you kept pushing me and saying weird stuff about Ale?” you asked Ona, who had the decency to look apologetic as she nodded. 

“We wanted you to think about this yourself, we didn’t want to push you so soon after your accident, and-” 

“So you decided the best way to do that was by lying to me? After I told you, told both of you, how upset the lying made me, especially after the accident, especially after I lost all my fucking memories and couldn’t even trust what my own brain was telling me?” you ranted. You were pissed off- no, you were angry. How could they do this to you? Regardless of anyone’s feelings, how could they lie to you and go behind your back like this?

“Ona, you made me feel fucking crazy!” you exploded, turning on her. “After I told you how upsetting it was not to know myself, you made me feel insane.”

The younger player had gone pale as she realised just what she’d done and how she’d made you feel. “I- I’m sorry, I-”

“And Ale! All that talk about how you would treat me like an adult, you’d let me make my own decisions. So that was just bullshit, huh? Guess I’m not adult enough to make my own decisions about things like my own relationships.”

Alexia winced at your words. “No, amor, I-”

“Save it,” you said. “I’m done talking to either of you.”

As the door swung closed behind you, the sound echoed in the hallway. It was only when you left the building and felt the warm Spanish sun beaming down on your face that you realised you were crying.

[sanguineterrain]

Hey I saw you're still taking requests... what about a batman x reader where the justice league meets his wife (the reader) by accident? And maybe they're shocked because he's so secretive and she's really sweet and just the total opposite of him. Feel free to ignore if this doesn't sound interesting to you. I love your writing 💗

Hey! I love this prompt, thanks for sending it in :) I made the reader gender neutral, I hope that's okay!

Bruce Wayne x spouse!gn!reader. No warnings, just Bruce being a little shit (and a sweet hubby).

****

You press your palm to the reader at the entrance of the Cave and jog down the stairs, talking all the way.

"Honey, Alfred and I are going to..."

Six superhero faces stare back at you. Bruce is in the cowl, expression hard to parse. Your brows rise.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know B had company. I'll leave you to it," you say, beginning to back up the stairs.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," says Green Lantern. You can't tell through the mask lenses, but you think he might be zeroed in on the ring on your left hand. "Uh, Spooky? Something you wanna tell us?"

You freeze on the steps. Bruce looks at you, then crosses the Cave in a few long strides. He stops next to you.

Sorry, you mouth at him. He shakes his head and reaches out to squeeze your hand.

"Hold the fucking phone," Green Arrow begins. "You're his—"

"Partner," Wonder Woman says instantly. She sounds pensive. "I have never seen you look at anyone like that, Bruce."

Bruce doesn't say anything, not that you expect him to. You feel him tense.

He'd been content to keep his family as private as possible, and you hadn't minded being kept separate. You know it's out of extreme protectiveness and the fact that you're the only one of the Wayne family who doesn't put a suit on and fight crime.

There's a moment of silence as the League studies you, then Bruce. You smile slowly and wave.

"Hi, Justice League. Nice to meet you all."

"Hello," says the Martian Manhunter, who's probably known about you since you entered Wayne Manor.

"You got married without telling us?" Superman sounds hurt.

Bruce heaves a sigh.

"We got married during the League's infancy. Please spare me the theatrics. Of course I didn't tell you."

"We revealed our identities two years ago!" Superman argues. "You didn't want to mention you have a spouse?"

Superman nods at you then. "Uh, of course, it's still very nice to meet you."

You smile. "It's nice to meet you too, Superman."

"Clark," he corrects hastily. Then he turns to Bruce again, upset flaring. "Bruce—"

"You're upset over nothing," Bruce says. "We weren't close when I got married, and I never found it a pertinent detail."

You roll your eyes.

"B," you say, nudging his shoulder. "C'mon. Try to be a little gentler about this, hm?"

Bruce looks at you. You smile at him and squeeze his wrist encouragingly. He eventually turns back to the League.

"Very well, you're right. Clark, that was harsh of me. My apologies."

The League startles.

"Whoa. Rewind. Hold up. Did Spooky just apologize?" Green Lantern asks. "Did I just get zeta'd?"

Bruce sighs. You stifle a laugh and kiss his bicep. His hand slips to your back.

"Aw, you guys are cute," Flash says jovially. "Congrats, B! Even if it's been almost six years."

Bruce nods. "Thank you, Allen."

"It is incredible how the better half can transform the other," says Wonder Woman, and you preen a little at the compliment.

Clark looks flabbergasted. It takes him a second to speak again.

"Um. That's... okay, Bruce. I forgive you. I suppose you did it out of protection, right?"

"I'm just a boring ol' civilian," you say, nodding. "No powers or years of Krav Maga training here. B worries."

"You're not boring," Bruce says fiercely, quiet enough for only you to hear... and Clark, who has superhearing, and who softens at the statement.

"This is so weird," Green Lantern says, and Bruce glares at him.

"I mean, it's sweet!" he hastily adds. "Uh, you guys are very sweet together, like Bar said. I just feel like I've been mind controlled or something."

"If it was mind control, you wouldn't still be talking," Bruce says flatly.

"Okay, alright, point taken. Shutting up. It's very nice to meet you, though," Green Lantern says to you.

"You as well," you say warmly. "All of you. I want to thank you for looking out for him all these years and bringing him home safe."

Wonder Woman smiles at you. "It is a great honor to fight alongside him. And we are happy he has someone to come home to."

"Seconded," Clark says. "You deserve someone special, B. And I can tell they're just that."

Your face feels warm under all the praise. Bruce is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, there's a slight tremor in his voice.

"Thank you. I—they are the best thing to ever happen to me."

You have to kiss Bruce for that, cowl be damned. He meets you gently, and you keep it short but full of love. Flash aww's.

"Well," you say, laughing bashfully. "I suppose I'll let you all get back to work. Nice to meet you. Goodbye. Bruce, I'm going out with Alfred."

Bruce nods. "Call me when you get home."

"'Course, sweetheart. I always do."

You head up the stairs. Flash starts to speak.

"Y'know, I told you all when I got married," he says. "You guys were the first people I told! We didn't even know Clark's identity then. I think you could've loosened the reins, Bruce."

"Yeah, no. You telling a bunch of superhero co-workers is infinitely stranger than Bruce never telling us, Bar."

[strangelysamantha]

support ❀

carrington x reader.

summary: helping carrington through a rough patch after a huge wave of haters has overwhelmed him and made him unmotivated.

a/n: currently working on a smutty req for carrington but i figured since i had this done id post it now, and ill post the other one tmw. like and reblog if you enjoy! this is my first carrington story but i think he’s so pretty and very funny. asks are open so send in more requests!!!

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“where the hell is carrington?” jake is storming around the house with his hands on his hips. he stops outside of carringtons door. he taps his foot before rudely banging on his door. you laugh at the theatrics. johnnie, in the midst of all this chaos, is also frantically looking for his blindfold since his video idea involves one. “do you know where carrington is?” johnnie laughs, “i have not seen him for an hour.” jake rolls his eyes, “we need to get more content out. carrington has five minutes before i decide to film without him.” jake apologizes to you before he storms away from his door, you watch in awe as the two of them start scrambling for all their props.

you hesitate, but give carringtons door three light knocks. you hover closer to the door, desperate to see if he lets you in. “JAKE GO AWAY!” you look around, “it’s not jake…” you bite your lip, swaying awkwardly in front of the door. “oh shit, i’m sorry. come in.” he unlocks his door, twisting it open.

“hey are you feeling okay, car?” his usual smile is an a downward expression, he has tear marks on his face. the sight of him made you feel distraught, determined to get to the bottom of his pain. “what’s wrong? you can talk to me. i promise.” he shrugs, “this is just a lot. having more fans, getting all this hate. it takes a toll on someone.” you frown, giving him a reassuring rub on his back. “and now jake is stressing me out. he keeps putting timelines on the videos we have to film.” you nod understandingly. “it’ll be okay? alright? if you aren’t feeling up to the video i’m sure jake will understand. at the end of the day, he’d rather you be okay; then push yourself too far, yknow?” you words comforted him, but he still felt wrong.

“i owe it to the fans though, i can’t let them down.” you sigh, placing your hand on his knee. “if they’re really your fans they can go a couple days without content. they should be okay with you taking a break, to rest.” in carringtons head he was swimming with doubts. he wanted to believe the fans would be supportive, but he also didn’t want to disappoint anyone. he stood up, mumbling a small thank you. he pulled you into a tight hug, your arms around his neck, his arms around your waist.

“i’ll be there the whole time when filming okay? if you need a break tell me. i’m good at interrupting and delaying the process.” he grins, recalling the numerous times you had interrupted the scene to point out costumers in the back ruining the bit, or the camera being too blurry. you only did it if you felt like it would ruin the video; you tried to avoid interrupting the flow. however, carringtons comfort is more important to you then being perceived as annoying by jake and johnnie. “okay, i’ll try.”

“that’s good! i’m proud of you.” he hugged you once more, leaning down, he placed a kiss on your lips. “you’re so sweet to me.” you shake your head, “car, you deserve so much love.” he smiles softly at you. “now, get ready!! we have a video to film.” he rushes to his closet to change his clothes. you leave the room, giving him time to finish getting ready.

you ran into johnnie, who now had full arms of random props, “what are you going to do with half of this stuff?” you question. he shrugs, “make a good video.” you smile at him. “that’s the goal.” jake comes around the corner with some stuff from his room, intended for the video. “carrington are you filming with us?” jake asked. the door to his room opened, carrington came out with a huge grin on his face, his humor back in tact. “hell yeah i am.” you clap, glad you were able to motivate him. johnnie is happy too, “finally! let’s do it!” jake leads the group to the camera set up, the three of them sit on chairs facing the camera. your eyes linger on carrington the whole time, ensuring he felt safe and comfortable during the filming process.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3