#when youre in therapy discussing that. just know that she was watching and laughing her ass off when you discovered her

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I just remembered that when she dies, my friend Josslyn wants to be buried a few inches under a bike path so that after awhile of people using the path her dead body will be revealed and she can scar whoever has the terrible luck of discovering her.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it.  After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren’t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin.  You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it.  It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read.  Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it.  Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed.  Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything.  “Green tea, right?  With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you.  You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you.  “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip.  He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind.  His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh.  “Thank you,” you finally said.  So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea.  That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness.  You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side.  He found it so irritating— that confidence.  Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically.  You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all.  Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie.  For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file.  But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you.  You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought— it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time.  No, it was the drugs finally kicking in.  You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited.  He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance.  He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply.  He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

~

You woke up on the floor.  You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard.  And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers.  You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t.  You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own.  You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move.  The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you.  “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things.  One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment.  Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them.  “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear.  “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous.  He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least.  As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing.  You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist.  This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist.  And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued.  “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault.  Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved.  In fact, you were horrified.  He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes.  Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there.  You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man.  He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women.  Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.  

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there.  It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares.  You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do.  And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace.  But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent.  You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently.  “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected.  You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating.  God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field.  It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged.  You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him.  And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted.  He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added.  “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it.  It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with.  Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg.  It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t.  “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly.  Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak.  Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes.  He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.  

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear?  Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused.  He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it.  You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it?  Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase?  Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words.  “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth.  Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right?  But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed.  Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted.  “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers.  You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly.  But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare.  You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you?  Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked.  But now…"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.  

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy.  You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone.  But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before?  Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl.  “Did he know exactly how to touch you?  Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly?  Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor.  “I think you wanted to be put in your place.  You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else.  You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true.  He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once.  “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed.  "I only gave you a small dose.  Can you move at all?  Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan.  You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided.  "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized.  "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street.  He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you?  Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you.  You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled.  "You think you're so fucking smart, and special.  But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better.  Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy.  Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before.  Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this.  They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat.  What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt.  He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it?  You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust.  You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut.  It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his.  “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure.  Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.  No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting.  “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered.  “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded.  “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.  

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again.  “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed.  “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck.  “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there.  Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again.  So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder.  "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck. 

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air.  You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face.  "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock?  Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately.  "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster.  "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you.  “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body.  You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.  

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him.  Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong.  Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time.  Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all.  He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules.  Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please.  He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away.  “‘Please’ what, honey?  You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted.  “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for.  You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away.  He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare.  “This isn’t about me.  This is what you wanted.  This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.  

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip.  “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you?  You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away.  Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work.  His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead.  His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark.  His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you.  He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured.  Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner.  You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask.  This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you.  “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected.  Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come.  I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse.  “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.  

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment.  For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually.  “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you.  “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered.  "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you.  "Shh, it's alright.  I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close.  Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace.  You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped.  He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed.  Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.  

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on.  “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was).  “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”

[arlana-likes-to-write]

You Look Happier

Part 4 of the Family, Pawns, and Sins of the Family

Summary: After every thing you've been though, it's time to move forward. While doing just that you run into a unlikely friend that looks past the scars you bare.

Warning: panic attack, mention of past abuse, suicidal thoughts, fluff, Kamala is a joy and I love her, small scene of a guy grabbing the reader, mention of nightmares, facing past abusers in court.

Word Count: 5.4k

Note: Ignore the fact that I said the next chapter of Second Chance will be posted today, I finished this one shot instead lol. Also, this will probably be the last part of this!

*

Healing was not linear. If this whole experience taught you one thing, it was that. Some days were good. They were great. You smiled and laughed without restraint. Those good days bleed into good weeks. Then, the darkness over your shoulder would rear its ugly head. All your hard work to overcome everything seemed pointless when you couldn’t leave your bed and your moms stayed by your side out of fear you would hurt yourself. There were close calls. The overwhelming urge sometimes became too much. You wanted to feel anything besides their hands on you.

Tonight was the end of a terrible day. You shut down after your therapy appointment. The mid-afternoon nap you took was ruined by a nightmare, and the court called, and they needed you to testify against Principal Cook. It was not your day. Still, you managed to pull yourself out of bed when the Avengers came over for a cookout. You sat at the fire pit with a marshmallow on the end of the stick. The flames engulfed the sticky treat and fell into the fire. Sighing, you blew out the flame and leaned back into the chair. You pulled the blanket to your chin and watched the get-together.

“Hey bug,” Natasha slid next to you. The chair was big enough for you two to sit comfortably without touching it, but you folded it against her. You buried your face in her shoulder and felt her hand draw shapes on your back. “How are you feeling?” Lying was never an option when they asked you this question. They would rather have the brutal, honest truth than a lie. It was a hard thing to overcome in the beginning.

“I’m,” Tired. Sad. Angry. “Struggling.” You sighed.

“Yeah,” Natasha kissed your forehead. “Today was a lot.” You nodded against her.

“Have you heard from the lawyers?” It was Natasha’s turn to sigh and kiss your forehead again.

“Not yet. They are talking with Cook’s defense team and hoping the man will take a plea deal.” You nodded and closed your eyes. The constant motion and her soft humming almost sent you to sleep. “Your mama and I have to go to the tower tomorrow. Is it okay to have your therapy session online?” The other thing was they refused to let you stay home alone on terrible days. It made sense. Through all of this, they wanted you to be safe.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “That’s fine.” There was no need to open your eyes because you knew there was a smile on her face.

“I love you, our firefly.”

“I love you too, mom.”

*

Today was better. Your therapist let you discuss your relationship with Wanda, Natasha, and the twins. It was a breath of fresh air to talk about something positive. The two Avengers were still in their meeting, so you waited for them on the common floor. It was half your fault. You were looking at your phone when a body slammed into you, causing you and your phone to fall to the ground. “Are you okay? Is your phone okay? Do you have a concussion?” You blinked at the girl with long brown hair and bright brown eyes. “Oh my god, I’ve concussed you.” She cried, placing her hands on top of her head.

“I’m not-wait. Who are you?”

“I’m Kamala Khan,” she offered you her hand, which you took to stand up.

“I’m-”

“Oh, I know who you are. Peter won’t stop talking about you. He says, You’re super cool.”

“I’m-” broken. Hurt. Sad. “Okay,” she laughed, and the sound erupted butterflies in your stomach. You noticed you were still holding her hand, and you dropped it suddenly. “Sorry,” you whispered. She smiled, picked up your phone, and looked it over.

“It’s not broken. I would have hated it if I gave you a concussion and broke your phone.” you were surprised by the laugh that you let out. It only made Kamala’s smile grow. “Here you go.”

“You should put your number in it,” a surge of confidence washed through you. Her eyebrows went up. “I mean, you did assault me. I think you owe me,” her mouth opened and closed like a fish. It was cute.

“I see why Peter likes you,” she said, handing you the phone so you could open it, and she quickly put her number on it. “I have to run-”

“Hopefully, not into someone again,” you said with a playful smile. She rolled her eyes.

“But I’ll see you again. Text me so I can have your number, too.” You waved bye as she ran off. Flopping onto the couch, you sent Kamala a simple hello with your name. For some reason, your cheeks were hurting from your smile.

*

You giggled at the funny meme Kamala sent you of Yelena and Kate that she made. You befriended the girl three days ago, and her goal seemed to make you smile. Even after a tough day at therapy, you were welcomed with messages from her that made it better. “Alright, enough,” your phone was ripped away from you. You gasped as you watched Yelena go through your phone. “You’ve been giggling all night. Who are you texting?”

“Mama, tell her to give me my phone back,” Wanda chuckled, standing over the stove to make dinner.

“Give her the phone back, Belova,” the witch laughed. “But I am curious who has got you smiling so much.” Yelena refused to give you the phone.

“First off, you’ve met Kamala,” she handed Wanda your phone. Instead of looking through it like the Black Widow, she returned it to you. “Second, I am going to kill her.” You smiled.

“We ran into each other at the tower,” you texted her, letting her know Yelena saw the memes she made. “Literally,” you mumbled. Every time you thought about how you met your new friend, you laughed. This was amplified when Kamala responded, saying you betrayed her trust.

“Hey,” Yelena snapped her fingers in front of your face. You jumped, not expecting it. “Your mama was talking to you.” The Blonde rolled her eyes and left the kitchen.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “What were you saying?” Wanda smiled with a shake of the head.

“I said dinner is almost ready. Can you go wash up and get your brothers?” You nodded and closed the book you were trying to read, but you were distracted by your phone. “And sweetheart,” you stopped to look at Wanda. “She’s making you smile a lot. Is there more going on?” You felt your body heat up.

“N-no,” you stuttered. “We are just friends,” Wanda smirked. “Mama, we are.”

“Okay, I’m just teasing,” you huffed and walked to your room. You dropped your textbooks and notebooks on your desk. Friends. That was all you and Kamala were. Nothing more. Right?

*

You were nervous as you stood outside Natasha’s home office. You could do this. You could do this. Knocking the door, you heard her voice on the other side telling you to come in. You entered and closed the door. “Hey bug, what -” she stopped mid-question. “Are you okay? You look like you are going to be sick.” Instead of answering, you walked to the front of her desk.

“Can I ask you something?” Natasha nodded, the worry evident on her face. “Can I go to the movies?” The Black Widow blinked at once, twice.

“Jesus, kid, you were about to give me a heart attack,” she let out a shaky breath and placed her hand on her chest for added effect. “Who would you be going with?”

“Uh Kamala,” you played with the fidget ring Yelena gave you after they saved you from Dmitri. “She and a few of her friends are in the city, and they invited me to see Detention Disaster with them.” It was a comedy. You looked at an in-depth review of it, so you knew nothing would trigger you.

“Are you sure? That’s a big step,” you knew what she meant. You rarely went anywhere besides the tower, the park down the street, and your brother’s school. Natasha and Wanda were with you even if you went somewhere outside your comfort zone.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, but you wouldn’t grow or heal if you stayed constant. “But I’d like to try.”

*

“That scene in the cafeteria was so funny,” Bruno said as he walked next to Nakia. “And it was shot so well,” Kamala chuckled and shook her head at her friend.

“Did you enjoy the movie?” She asked you. You were walking behind Bruno and Nakia.

“Yeah, it was funny.” Even after reading the very in-depth review, the movie still managed to make you laugh. Also, the comments Kamala and Bruno made to one another throughout the entire movie added another layer of comedy. They thought they were being quiet. Still, they walked no matter how often Nakia threw popcorn at them. You liked Kamala’s friends, who included you in their group.

“Hey, there is an arcade over here. Do you guys want to go?” Bruno asked. He stopped walking so you could catch up. The arcade was loud and unpredictable. There were too many things to account for.

“It’s up to you,” Kamala said. I can take you back home.” Home was safe and predictable—well, your brothers were not, but they knew your boundaries. But you shook your head.

“An arcade sounds fun,” you said. Today was good, and you wanted to keep hanging out with them. If they wanted to go to an arcade, then you would go no matter how much anxiety swirled in your stomach.

Luckily, it wasn’t busy. A small group of kids was at the basketball game, and some were looking at the prizes through the glass box. You bought a card with your tokens, and Kamala grabbed your hand to show you all her favorite games. You were worried that she thought you were clingy, but she kept a tight hold on you. Playing video games with your brothers helped you with some of the games. You beat Kamala on some of the two-player games.

It was fun, and you pretended you were a normal kid for a split second. No deep trauma that kept you awake at night. No scars that ached when it got cold. You were a kid having fun with her friends.

Until you walked alone as you decided on the next game, you needed a few more tickets and could get a new fidget toy. Suddenly, you felt a body crash against your back, and you stumbled forward. Your first thought of who it was was Kamala. For an Avenger, she was very clumsy. “Hey, watch where the fuck you are going,” you turned around to see a guy; he had to be 18.

“You ran into me,” you said. “You should listen to your advice.” You turned away, but he grabbed your arm and spun you back around. He pushed you against the arcade machine. The corner dug into your lower back, and you let out a pained yelp. Fear washed over you. His mouth was moving, but nothing he said mattered to you. It was happening again. Why? You felt frozen. The way his hands felt on you transported you to Jason, Conner, and Dmitri. Then, a new pair of hands were touching you.

“Hey, Y/n,” the voice said. “You’re safe. I need you to breathe for me.” Your chest felt tight, and it was impossible to get air into your lungs. “What do you need?”

“Hands,” you managed. “Get your hands off of me.” They were removed instantly, and you slid down to the ground, bringing your knees to your chest.

“You know you missed me kicking Bruno’s ass in basketball,” it was Kamala. Kamala was in front of you. “I mean, I was cheating, but don’t tell him that.” You managed a chuckle, which Kamala smiled. “Are you back with me?” You nodded, licking your dry lips. “Bruno and Nakia brought that guy to the manager, and he’s calling the police.” Again, you nodded. “Do you want me to call your parents?”

“No,” you finally spoke. The reality of the situation caught up with you, and embarrassment washed over you. You jumped to your feet. “Shit, sorry that was-”

“Whoa,” Kamala stood up slowly with her hand sup. “It’s okay. You did nothing wrong.” But you did, and if you just walked away from him, none of this would have happened. “No matter what happened, he should have never put his hands on you.” You nodded again. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private.” She let you go to a small back room used for birthday parties. You were grateful she kept her hands to herself when she opened the door. You slumped in one of the chairs and placed your face in your hands. You heard Kamala sit in front of you. “Are you okay?” She finally asked. You sighed.

“I wanted today to be good and normal,” you said. “But it’s like one step forward and four steps back.”

“Isn’t that the point?” You removed your hands and looked at her. “Healing. Some days are better than others. It’s how it is,” she carefully took your hand, and you allowed her to. “And today was fun. I had fun hanging out with you.”

“I had fun, too,” you admitted. She smiled.

“These things will happen,” she continued. “And that is okay. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I will be there to help you. If you want me to, at least,” she added quickly. You smiled.

“As long as I don’t scare you off.”

“You could never,” she spoke with so much confidence, and without hesitation, you almost believed her.

Delete Created with Sketch.

Today was a bad day. You had to go down to the courthouse to prepare for your testimony against Principal Cool. He wasn’t there, but you had to relive the whole ordeal. After that, Billy and Tommy begged to get ice cream. However, a man mistook you for someone else and grabbed you by the arm. The cherry on top was Kamala was on a mission with Carol. You missed the way she could make you smile and laugh.

It was past midnight. No matter how many times you tried to go to bed, every horrible thing flashed through your mind. Your phone buzzing caused you to jump, not expecting a phone call. Somehow, just seeing her name made you smile. It felt like your first genuine smile all day. “Hi,” you answered softly.

“Did I wake you up? I am so sorry. I can never figure out what time zone I’m in,” you giggled and rolled onto your back.

“No, I’ve been up. What are you doing calling me?” you asked. “I thought you said it was impossible to find cell service up there.” She was quiet, but you heard shuffling as if she was lying down.

“We usually can’t, but we found some. So Carol is calling Val, Monica is calling her mom, and I’m calling you.” Oh. That was a surprise.

“Why are you calling me?” She had her parents, brother, and her high school friends.

“Because I wanted to silly,” she answered. “Now, why can’t you sleep? Are you okay?”

“I’m,” Kamala knew bits and pieces of what happened to you. You strayed away from the more graphic details. It wasn’t easy to open up to your therapist. “I’m,” you sighed. “I miss you,” you admitted instead. Sometimes, it was easier to change the direction of the conversation.

“Awe, I miss you too,” you heard the smile in her voice. “I’ll be home soon, but you failed to answer my question.” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m tired,” you pushed the calm of your hand to your eye. And you were. You wanted to move past all of this and live a normal life.

“Get some sleep. I-shit. I’m sorry, I have to go. Carol needs me.” You were lucky she couldn’t see you, or she would have seen your frown. “Look, if you need anything, you call me, okay? I may not respond right away, but I’m here.” You nodded.

“Stay safe, superhero.”

“Always.”

*

Soft knocking woke you up. Slowly, you sat up and looked towards the sound. “Kamala,” you whispered. The girl was smiling on the other side of your window. You climbed over to it and opened it. “What are you doing?” She smiled.

“To see you. Can I come in? It’s cold,” you stepped out of the way, and she crawled through the window. It was a little clumsy. Her foot got caught on the window ledge. A small yelp, and she rolled off your bed and onto the floor. You cringed at the sound and were grateful that your room was on the first floor. Soon, your room was filled with laughter.

“Are you okay?” You closed the window. Kamala nodded and rubbed the back of her head.

“My pride took a hit,” you giggled and helped her. “Hi,” she smiled and sat down on your bed.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be in space?”

“Well,” she took off her shoes. “The mission is almost over, and Carol doesn’t need me, so she said I could go home.” You raised her eyebrows at her.

“The last time I checked, this isn’t your house,” she said, looking around the room with a confused expression.

“You know, I thought my room looked a little different. There are not enough Captain Marvel posters,” you rolled your eyes. Besides, Carol may not need me, but you do,” you looked at the ground. Kamala placed her arm around your shoulders. That’s okay, you know that? It’s okay to need people.” You shrugged.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you whispered. “You are an Avenger. You have more important things to worry about than someone as broken as me.” Kamala removed her arm and forced you to sit more on the bed. You crossed your legs to give her more room. She grabbed your hands.

“You are not broken. You are healing. That is a big difference. Soon, all these scars will heal,” you stared at your connected hands.

“What if whatever they broke inside me can never be fixed?” Kamala was quiet. She moved your hands so your palms were facing up. Her fingers were arms as she traced the lines on your hand.

“Then you learn to live without those parts,” she bite her lip. “When I discovered the true nature of my abilities, the old me was gone. I had to embrace the person I am now. It’s scary, terrifying really, but you have your family to help you,” she squeezes your hands. “You have me.” You looked at her, and she had a soft smile.

“Can you stay the night?” You whispered.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” you stood up to get some clothes to change into. Once she was ready for bed, you climbed under the covers with her next to you. “For what it’s worth,” she broke the silence. “I think you are pretty great.” You bent your arm to rest your head on your hand. She was lying on her back.

“You think I’m pretty, superhero,” she rolled her eyes and mirrored the way you were laying.

“What if I did?” You raised your eyebrows in question. “I think you are pretty.”

“Oh,” you squeaked and cringed at the nose that escaped. “Scars and all?” You questioned.

“They are kind of badass,” she said. “Makes you all hot with the ladies.” She wiggled her eyebrows. You chuckled and pushed the girl on her shoulder. She fell onto her back.

“You are such a flirt.” You said.

“Just for you, khobsurat,” you titled your head at the foreign word. “It’s Urdu.”

“What does it mean?” You questioned. Kamala faced you.

“Beautiful.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted. You were never in a normal relationship. Everyone wanted something from you. Everyone tried to hurt you. “I’ve been hurt by so many people that promised not to.” Your biological parents used you to get money. Jason promised to love you. Principal Cook and Coach Griffo were hired to protect students. They all hurt you.

“I can’t promise I won’t mess things up because I’m an idiot,” you smiled. “I can be aggressively passionate, overwhelming, and loud, but I will never hurt you like they hurt you.” You nodded, looking down at the shapes on your blanket. “You don’t believe me.” You wanted to. You tried to jump head first, but you weren’t sure if your heart could handle any more heartbreak. It was already bruised, bandaged, and broken.

“I want to. It’s just-”

“Hard?” Kamala guessed. You nodded. “That’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” she yawned, covering her mouth. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“Get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” She nodded and closed her eyes.

“Night, khobsurat,” she whispered. Was it weird that you watched her fall asleep? Maybe. But you liked how peaceful she looked. You weren’t sure when the last peaceful night of sleep you had. You were a little jealous. Sighing, you turned to your side and hoped for a nightmare-free sleep.

*

The sound of thundering footsteps woke you up. It was your only warning before your door opened, the force almost falling off the handles. “Breakfast - hey, what are you doing here, Kamala?” You heard the girl behind you groan. Sometime in the middle of the night, you gravitated towards each other. Her arm is secured around your waist. It wasn’t an uncomfortable position. You only allowed your parents and sometimes your brothers to cuddle you.

“Not sleeping,” she mumbled. Her breath caused goosebumps on your skin. That was uncomfortable. Your mind flashed back to every time someone held you down, breathing against your neck. You tensed up. “Hey, are you okay?” You shook your head.

“Mom!” Billy yelled. “Y/n has a friend over that she didn’t ask permission ,and she’s having a panic attack.”

“Billy,” you hissed, but your brother ran off. Kamala removed her arm and created some healthy distance between you and her. You needed some space, not your brother getting Natasha and announcing you were having a panic attack, which you weren’t. Now, the hurried footsteps were from the Black Widow.

“Is she going to kill me?” You heard Kamala whisper as Natasha slowed down. That was a great question you weren’t 100% sure about.

“Kamala, what the hell are you doing here?” She asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be in space?”

“Well, you see, Mrs. Romanoff,” Kamala said slowly. “I requested to leave my mission early because she seemed upset.” Your head whipped around to look at her.

“You told me your mission was almost over, and Carol didn’t need you anyone.” Her eyes widened, frantically looking between you and the Russian.

“I did say that, didn’t I? It was a white lie,” she said. “I knew if I told you the truth, you would make me go back, and you sounded so sad on the phone,” she held up her hands, almost to defend herself. “Carol knows the truth, and she approved it. I couldn’t lie to her,” she pointed to Natasha. “She scares me more than you,” she whispered. Her comment made you laugh, but you were still angry at her even though her heart was in the right place. Natasha scuffed.

“I scare you now. Is that so?” You looked at your mom. Her arms were crossed, and she was leaning against the doorway.

“No, ma’am, Mrs. Black Widow, sir.” You laughed so hard that you snorted, which sent Kamala into a fit of laughter. Natasha had a soft smile on her face.

“Breakfast is ready, girls. Come on,”

“Thanks, Mom,” the Black Widow nodded and walked back towards the direction of the kitchen, not bothering to close the door. Kamala let out a shaky breath and slumped back into the mattress. “I can’t believe you lied to me.” You pinched her side, and the girl yelped.

“It was for a good reason,” you rolled your eyes. “Are you telling me if I told you the truth, you’d let me stay?” There was no good reason you had. “Exactly,” she pinched your side back. “How did you sleep?” She sat up and stretched her arms above her head.

“Good, actually,” your mind was blank; no nightmare woke you up.

“Good,” she climbed out of the bed. “Come on. I’m hungry. Your superhero needs food,” she rubbed her stomach.

“My superhero?” She winked at you.

“I like the sound of that,” she teased and grabbed your hand. You were a little stunned, but you led her to the kitchen, where the rest of your family was. My superhero, you liked the sound of it, too.

*

“I’d like to call Y/n Romanoff-Maximoff as my first witness to the stand,” the prosecutor said your name, and your stomach still dropped. This moment was what you were preparing weeks for. All you had to do was take the stand, tell the truth, and be free. Easy minus facing Principal Cook and the side full of his supporters. But you weren’t alone either. Every Avenger that was not on a mission seemed to be there; even the Bartons made the trip to the city. Still, you felt frozen in your seat. Until you felt a hand on your shoulder squeeze it.

“We are right here, bug,” Natasha whispered. “Eyes on us the entire time.” You nodded and forced yourself to stand up. The prosecutor smiled at you as you passed her and headed for the witness stand. You tried to keep your eyes on your section. Even when the Bible was brought over to you so you could swear the truth and nothing but the truth. But you were curious, so your eyes flickered to his defense team. His lawyer was whispering to him, but Cook was watching you. The man smiled and gave you a little wave. You looked away immediately, eyes scanning your section until you found Kamala. She smiled, and the weight on your chest disappeared. You let out a shaky breath. You could do this. You could do this.

*

“I am so proud of you,” Wanda said for what felt like the 10th time once the trial ended. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you.

“Alright, darling,” Natasha smiled. “Don’t hog her. She’s got other people to thank for coming.” With a sigh, she let you go. You made your way around the large group right outside the courthouse. You thanked everyone for their support and tried to ignore the press taking your picture. Kamala was the last person you went up to. Immediately, you slumped into her arms.

“Hi,” she whispered. “Are you ready to go home?” You nodded against her. She took your hand and led you to your parent’s car. There was no need to say goodbye as everyone was invited to the house for a small party. It was your one request to do after the trial. You wanted everyone close by for a gentle reminder you weren’t alone.

Once again, you found yourself at the fire pit as you watched the party. Kamala sat down next to you and handed you a plate of food. “Are your parents enjoying themselves?” You saw them talking with Natasha and Wanda. They weren’t at the trail; they stayed at the house to set everything up.

“They are. I hope you are ready to hear many stories of when I was a baby,” you smiled and took a bite of your hamburger. “You know Yelena gave me the shovel talk,” your eyes widened. You knew when the Blonde found out you were dating Kamala; it was only a matter of time before the ‘talk’ happened. “It was nothing bad. She did not threaten bodily harm,” you laughed, a little surprised, and sipped your water. “She did make me promise something.”

“Are you going to tell me what that promise was?” Yelena was with the Bartons. Nate was handing on her back with his arms around her neck. She caught you staring and winked at you.

“She told me this has been the happiest she’s seen you,” you looked at the girl next to you. She was looking forward, but you saw her eyes flick to you. It wasn’t the first time you heard that statement. You look happier. Everyone said it in their way. “Is that true? Do you feel happier?” It was a complicated question because there were days you were on cloud nine. Others felt it impossible to move forward. But she made it better.

“Yeah, I am,” you admitted. “So, what promise did you make to her?” She took her free hand in yours.

“Just to keep you happy,” she kissed your cheek. “And you know how much I love making you smile.” You rolled your eyes and felt your body warm up.

“Hey, lovebirds,” you heard Kate yell. “I think you should cool off.” You gasped as the cool water drenched you and Kamala. You ignored Kamala’s laughter and looked at who was responsible: your brother, the Bartons, and Peter.

“Tommy, Billy, I’m going to kill you.”

“Awe, why?” Tommy whined. “It wasn’t just us.” That was true, but you had a free pass to bully them.

“Besides, it was mom’s idea,” your head snapped to look at the Black Widow, who was now with her sister and Laura. She was smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“Give me your water gun,” you said to Billy. Your brother looked at you, then Natasha.

“I’ll speak kindly at your funeral, soldier,” he saluted you and handed you the water gun. You placed your now ruined food on Kamala’s plate.

“Khobsurat,” she stood up and grabbed your hand. “Are you sure about this? You have a lot of life to live.”

“Oh my god, guys,” you laughed. “I’ll be fine.” Well, you hopped anyway. Besides, you knew Wanda wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You were secretly her favorite. You pumped the water gun and looked at the Black Widow. She shook her head and mouthed ‘no.’ You winked at her and used your powers to turn invisible. Since the Avengers saved you from Dmitri, you rarely used your powers. Besides the occasional training session Natasha and Wanda put you through. You were grateful for that; what they taught you kept you alive. It felt good to use your powers for fun.

You watched the Black Widow walk over to Wanda and wrap her arms around her waist. She was talking with Maria and Sam. Clever or suicide to use the witch as a shield, but it would not stop you. Carefully, you walked closer to them. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” Wanda asked. Natasha placed her head on her shoulder.

“Can I not love on my beautiful wife?” The witch narrowed her eyes at her.

“Who did you piss off?” You slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sound of your laughter. Wanda glanced around the yard. “Get off of me.” But Natasha held onto her tighter. “Natalia Alianovna Romanova, I will not be your shield because you messed with our enhanced daughter.” Sam laughed, throwing his head back.

“You got your full government name,” he teased. You are in the dog house.” The Black Widow pouted, but her arms remained locked around Wanda.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Wanda’s voice echoed in your head. Usually, it would scare you. Now, it was a calming presence when you felt her magic enter your mind.

‘Sorry, mama,’ You appeared behind Natasha and unleashed your water onto her back. Natasha gasped and moved Wanda to take some of it. You stopped immediately but still got her wet. You cringed. “That was not my fault,” you said. The witch sighed.

“I know,” Red Magic took the water gun out of your hands. “Run Romanoff.” The Black Widow’s eyes were filled with fear, and you laughed as she took off towards Tommy, who threw his water gun at her. Yes, you were happier—all thanks to them.

[turningbloodypages]

could you do cullens (or just emmett) x reader with aspd?

Of course! 🫶 apologies for inaccuracies, i did as much research as i could

“You know i’m good on my own… you know, it’s more the being unknown.”

The Cullens/ASPD!reader

Edward

Though he doesn’t fully understand, he can relate to the general disregard for others

He let’s you stay close to him whenever you’re around other people, and tries his best to help regulate

You can’t really lie to him because he can read your mind, which is frustrating at times but it helps to break the habit

Your seemingly nonexistent worry about your safety tends to stress him out, but he does his best to keep you out of trouble

Distracts you by reading to you or taking you out into the woods with him

Got all your classes changed so he could keep you calm while at school

Deescalates any fights you may or may not get into

Overall just fusses over you all the time, trying to make sure you’re alright and everything

Alice

She knew what she was getting into, and she loves you all the same

Loves to sing to you to keep you regulated

Get’s upset when you lie to her or do something to hurt her feelings, but she tries not to show it too much

Any time you get into any complications in public she simply drags you to an empty room or bathroom

Which is frustrating at first but it usually works in terms of keeping you from getting hurt

Tries to work through your impulses by taking you to do the most adrenaline boosting things she can think of

I.E cliff jumping, running as fast as possible through the woods, taking you hunting with her

She loves having fun, and would rather work through things in an exciting way than try and pretend that you don’t get impulsive

Talks you out of trouble whenever you do end up getting yourself into it

She is quite the charmer

Rosalie

Like Edward, she can relate

Spends most of her time with you locked away in her room, doing something mundane like reading or watching a movie

Her approach is to just keep you from getting triggered

When you do inevitably get impulsive, she hypes you up and lets you take your frustration out

Once took you out into the woods to shoot nail guns out of trees

Let you tire yourself out and then takes you home to take care of you

Gives you a warm bath and sings you lullubies

Emmett

Would definitely take you to a rage room

Tries to make you laugh whenever you get upset

This works most of the time

Distracts you with the most ridiculous games

You’ll be about to get into a fight and he’ll go “if you can beat me to that tree i’ll take you to get ice cream”

Other honorable mentions are attempting to beat him arm wrestling (he puts up a good fight but lets you win once you tire yourself out)

Playing baseball with him and his brothers when you’ve had a hard day

Tree climbing contests

Trying to catch squirrels (surprisingly difficult for all parties involved)

Will also resort to bear hugs if necessary

You can’t punch anybody if you’re in the muddle of having being squeezed half to death

Jasper

His ability to influence emotions is a huge help

He’s able to keep you calm in most situations

When he can’t, he’s good at talking you through impulses

He understands what it feels like to have a lack of control, and he teaches you coping methods and ways to stay calm

Finds new hobbies for you guys to try together to distract from stress

Can tell when you’re lying to him, but usually doesn’t say anything

He lets you tell the truth and come to him when you’re ready

Lots of physical touch therapy

Always holding your hand whenever you go anywhere, making sure to keep you focused on him and not the crowds

Carlisle

His medical background makes it easy for him to help you

He figures out what triggers you and stays prepared for any situation

Lots of talk therapy and discussing your feelings

He’s very civil when it comes to any altercation you may get into

Never gets angry with you, but makes sure to talk to you about what happened and discuss how you can cope better next time

He understands that it wont always be easy, and he’s there to support you on hard or stressful days

Never forces you to do anything your uncomfortable with

Likes to take you out to quiet places (library, hiking trails, etc) to try and help you cope better with being around others

But will gladly have a night in with you if you request

Esme

Doesn’t understand at first why you wouldn’t enjoy being around others

But she does her research and learns how to help

Likes cooking and baking and having you help her

Will plan the most elaborate movie/cuddle nights

Loves reading to you, singing, anything you want

Reminds you that the way you feel is okay and that she’s always there to talk

Never forces you to open up, but it the best at helping when you do

She gives wonderful advice

Always makes sure that the rest of her family knows how to support you in case she’s not there

Be prepared for the most kisses

Vampire!Bella

Tries her best to get it

She knows what it feels like to not really want to be around other people, but thats the extent of her understanding

Very protective of you, even when you don’t need it

Stands up for you whenever you get into disagreements/fights, makes sure nobody gets hurt

She was never too good at talking about her feelings, so she never pushes you to do the same

Always there if you do reach out though

Would get frustrated over lying/attempted manipulation, but reminds herself that it’s not exactly your fault

Would do petty crime with you

[incorrectly-quoting-murderdrones]

Sky’s Episode 7 Review (now that she’s stopped screaming) ((kinda))

Spoilers under the cut

Never trust interns with anything

Also holy shit the animation has gone from amazing to absolutely jaw-dropping

N desperately clawing at the rocks to get back to V is heartbreaking

The fact that the Disassembly Drones were built to murder humans and not the workers is one hell of a reveal and not something I expected at all.

That’s probably why Nori kept making plans about the murder drones before they even arrived, she kept thinking they were after the drones, not remembering they were there for the humans.

Now that we know Tessa is was nothing but a skin puppet, are there any humans left? Are all of them dead?

ALSO WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THE TESSA SKIN PUPPET?!

I thought maybe it was Cyn just puppeteering the spacesuit and making it seem bloody, but Jesus fucking Christ the skin suit was absolutely disturbing

Thad and Lizzy return!

Khan actually taking initiative? I do love the consistency of him being able to repair Uzi’s rail gun easily.

Also we’re not gonna talk about how Khan KEPT her rail gun?

Please for the love of god give Uzi a break. She really goes through it this episode.

Nori: “Bite me!”

Now we see where Uzi gets it from

N immediately screaming at the V hallucination and Uzi noping the fuck away from the wall of flesh was a great reverse on the usual horror tropes

So we’re just gonna gloss over how Nori is not only alive, but one of the weird little squid drones? If that affects drones with Absolute Solver, maybe Doll isn’t as dead as we think.

Just how much does J know? Is she even aware of Tessa being a puppet?

I love how in the fight between Uzi-Cyn and N, we get a callback to the Knife Dance!

“Nori! The truth is Uzi and I-“ and then he just writes “hang out”. They are really keeping the Nuzi fans in suspense, aren’t they.

“Your backups will forgive me” So there are clones of N? Did Cyn turn only N, J, and V into murder drones and then clone them a bunch?

Uzi drop kicked her own mother. This show is incredible.

N killed Tessa to save Uzi!

Elsie and Michael did an incredible job with the voice acting

Between the knife dance, hand holding, the “Hang out. Just hang out idk lol”, and the “We did NOT discuss being gross and stuff!”, I am getting so many mixed messages about N and Uzi’s relationship

I love that even though Nori’s head was scrambled when she married Khan and had Uzi, she actually thinks that Khan is a hunk in her normal mind.

Bit of a personal theory here, but with the way the show sets up both N and V having a crush on each other, and N and Uzi having a crush on each other, I think the show might actually have eNVUzi be canon rather than just Nuzi, Envy, or Vuzi, which I’d be totally down for

The way Uzi bites at the tentacle just so she can go down with a cool pose made me laugh

N just watched both of the girls he loves sacrifice themselves for him, learned that Tessa was fucking skinned and worn by Cyn like a puppet, learned that he himself has killed not just hundreds of worker drones but thousands of humans too, and is now alone in his quest to stop Cyn from destroying the universe.

He is going to need so much therapy if he survives this

Also AJ Dispirito coming through with another incredible soundtrack!

Nuzi’s theme playing during the “All I know is, I need you.” scene. (I think it’s the same leitmotif that plays during “Falling….for you?”)

Uzi’s theme (Solver Uzi) playing during her sacrifice

The music for the fight between Cyn and N?!?!?! Incredible!?!?!

[justmeinadaze]

You Should Be Sad (Steddie X You)

Part 1 Without Me

A/N: ENTER WITH CAUTION! Like my previous chapter THIS WILL MAKE YOU FEEL! Its angsty and dealing with dark themes of addiction. I WILL STILL LOVE YOU IF YOU CHOOSE TO SKIP THIS STORY!

Warnings: Toxic Steddie and reader! Even though in the bulk of this story they are on a healing journey a lot of their toxic behavior is discussed and expanded upon. ANGST, They are sober but they still haven't truly faced all of their demons. Eddie is a former drug addict and Steve is a former alcoholic. Their previous behavior is discussed and expanded upon including verbal abuse, Eddie ODing, and smacking the reader (its just the one time but it shakes them both).

Eddie does go visit his dad in jail and of course his dad is an asshole. Eddie talks about his trauma and what his mom went through. Steve does the same when it comes to his dad and how he made him feel.

Reader talks about her healing and how they were like her drug. She talks in detail about how they made her feel especially when Eddie ODed.

I think that's all the angst. Again DARK THEMES ARE EXPLORED HEAVILY! If that makes you uncomfortable I understand if you choose not to read!

SMUT, not rough in anyway, there's still love between them and they are much gentler with her here then in the last chapter. FLUFF, I did create a happy ending. I think they deserve that <3. Not all situations like this end badly.

Word Count: 11,371

 1991

“I, um, called her mom and she said she may be coming in but I don’t know.”, Steve sighed as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. 

“And if she doesn’t that’s alright. You’ve been doing really well, Steven. Compared to where you were three years ago after Y/N left.” The man grimly smiled towards the group counselor.

He hated thinking about that time in his life. After you three graduated school, they convinced you to move into an apartment with them. Being completely away from prying eyes didn’t make things any better. Steve drank more excessively and Eddie continued to snort heavy amounts of his drug. Their toxic behavior amplified and every day they watched your personality that they fell in love slowly fade. 

 Three years ago, you finally had enough. You didn’t notify them in any way or even go back to the apartment to pack a bag. You just got in your car and ran from Hawkins. 

Losing you shook them to their core. A week after you disappeared, Steve went to the station and told Hopper about the accident he had caused senior year that got you hurt. They charged him for the DUI and fleeing the scene but instead of any prison time the chief got him into a rehab program. After six months of in-patient treatment, he was released for continued out-patient rehab therapy. He had been sober ever since but every day was hard. Due to his record no one wanted to hire him even though he was a Harrington so he ended up having to work at his dad’s firm. 

With everything that happened, his dad became almost worse, constantly reminding him of his failures. Every time he said something condescending or Steve had that strong urge to drink, he would look at the photo he had of you three on his desk and remind himself why he was trying to be better. 

***

His uncle watched Eddie with cautious eyes as he took an obnoxiously big bite of the burger in front of him. 

“Wayne, if you stare at me any harder you’re going to burn a hole through my brain.”

The man laughs as he takes a sip from his glass of water. He knew his nephew was allowed to drink but chose not to for his roommate’s sake. Wayne didn’t want to make that choice any harder than he was sure it was so whenever he spent the afternoon with him he would drink anything but.

“How’s therapy goin’?”

“It’s, uh, it’s going.”, Eddie sighs. “We’ve been talking a lot about Allen lately. She…she thinks I should go to the prison and confront him. Face my fears so to speak. I told her I’m not afraid of him—” His uncle’s scoff cut him off. “What? I’m not.”

“Ed…you went through a lot as a kid. I don’t know how much you remember but—”

“I remember all of it.”

“Ok, I’m just saying, when someone goes through what you went through at such a young age…it’s ok to still…be afraid.” Eddie glares down at his plate as his uncle continues. “You’re not like him, son. Yeah, you fucked up but you’re trying. My brother gave up way before he ever went in.”

The boy’s jaw tightened as he tried to keep his emotions in check. 

“I hurt her, Wayne. That night I… I was out of control. You should have seen the way she looked me…after I…It was how mom looked him.”

***

You stared at the Hawkins road sign from your parked car as you wiped the tears from your eyes. You had been gone for three years and when you originally left you told yourself you were never coming back. The night you ran was the beginning of your own personal rehab purging you of them. You desperately needed to get away from their toxicity after what happened. 

About a year after you left, you received a call from a doctor at a rehab center a few hours outside of Hawkins asking if you would be willing to come be a part of Steve’s 12 step rehabilitation program. He needed to make amends and so far only Eddie and his mom participated. You declined at the time feeling there was no point. Steve was never consistent when it came to being sober. 

Every year you got a call but this year you were surprised when your mom asked you to take part as well. 

“Steve talked about your accident and apologized for his behavior. Y/N, he seemed so sincere. I completely understand if you don’t feel comfortable coming back but it really did help me hearing him apologize especially after he’s continued to be sober. Maybe it can be a bit healing for you to.”

Eddie’s uncle kept your mom updated on his progress but amends were a lot harder for him. It wasn’t just that he was afraid to face that guilt but he felt like he still wasn’t strong enough to handle that emotion. 

You spent the last three years on a type of spiritual journey; traveling the world and having experiences of your own that didn’t include Eddie and Steve. You made a lot of new friends and got into a healthy relationship or two. You were living in the moment and for once you were extremely happy…well…happier.

Even you knew at some point you would have to come back here to Hawkins. Not just to see your family but to face the memories and everything you had been through. You needed to heal and if facing them in this controlled setting would do that then so be it.

###########

“Eddie, it’s ok.”, the counselor soothed as he watched the metalhead’s leg bounce anxiously. 

“Yeah, no. I’m just a little nervous. Is-Is she really coming?”

On cue, there’s a tiny knock on the man’s office door as the receptionist slowly opened it to tell him you were here. The boys watched as he poked his head through and said a few words to you before leading you into the room.

It took every fiber of their being not to get up and run to you, lift you in their arms, and kiss your lips. It had been three years and you were even more beautiful than they remembered. Your hair was a bit shorter and wherever you had been you were obviously constantly being kissed by the sun. You had gained a bit of weight which was good because when you were with them you barely ever ate anything since you were always in a constant state of panic worrying about them. What they wouldn’t give to see you smile again. 

Your arms remained hugged around your chest as the person in charge guided you to a seat across of them. They both looked different and, to be honest, unrecognizable to you sober. They carried a different air that made you wonder had you run into them anywhere else would you have even recognized them? Eddie still had his long hair and clean face but his eyes had more of a hollow ring around them as if he hadn’t slept in three years. Instead of the heavy metal garb you expected him to be in, he was wearing clothes that resembled his uncle’s style down to the beige colored boots. 

Steve looked like a younger version of his father and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t hurt you for him. He was wearing a suit with the sleeves rolled to his elbows as the jacket rested on the arm rest behind him. His beautiful brown hair was now wild as if he didn’t have the energy to style it anymore. Even the slight facial hair that dusted his upper lip and along his jaw line screamed that he was too exhausted to put in that extra effort. 

“Y/N, I just want to start this by saying this is a safe space, okay? You can say anything you want and there is no judgement. Usually, we do this one at a time but I thought it might be easier for you to do this with them both here.”

“You cleared it with her first right? You told her we both would be here?”

The doctor glanced over at Steve sympathetically. “Yes, I did. I wouldn’t have pushed her if she felt unsafe to be in a room with you both.”

“I do feel unsafe.” All eyes turned to you. “I…I still feel like this isn’t real. That you two are going to leave this place and go back to your apartment to do what you do best.”

“That’s fair.”, Eddie nodded as his gaze shifted towards the floor. “We had always tried to get clean but could never succeed.”

“Pfft, tried.”, you scoffed angrily as your arms hugged your body tighter.

“Go ahead, Y/N. Get it all out here. They can’t make amends if they don’t hear everything.”

“See, that’s the thing, sir. They did hear everything. I said it over and over again since high school but they ignored me and focused on themselves. It’s kind of ironic to be in a relationship with two men yet still feel lonely and unheard!”

Silence falls heavily over everyone and after a few moments the counselor clears his throat. “Steven, why don’t you go ahead?”

“I, uh, don’t know if your parents told you but I came clean about the accident. I took accountability, Y/N, like you had always wanted me to and I am so…so sorry I didn’t do that sooner. I almost killed you and…I don’t know why that wasn’t enough of a wakeup call for me but I’m still learning. I’m still…fuck…I’m sorry, Y/N. I know no amount of apologizing will make up for that or how I treated you but I think about you every day. Every day I wake and I fight to be a better man. It’s so fucking hard but—”

He pauses when he notices you staring out the window trying to control the tears that had begun to fall, turning towards the man in charge helplessly.

“What’s running through your mind, Y/N?” You shake your head but he continues to try and urge you to speak. 

“I’m just wondering…why wasn’t I enough?”

“Honey—”

“No. NO. Don’t you fucking dare, Steve Harrington.” Angerly you wipe your eyes as you turn your body to fully face him. “Waking up every day is hard for you? Good. Now you know what it was like for me for all those years. I woke everyday knowing you were going to be drunk or Eddie was going to be high. The fun part was the gamble of which men I was going to get that day. The doting boyfriends or the abusive dickheads.” 

Eddie flinched at your last sentence making you sarcastically laugh. 

“And I notice you’re still really fucking quiet over there. You may hate hearing it, Ed, but it’s true. I’ve told you before and looking at you two now I see it more than ever. You are both exactly like your fathers!” 

“I’m sorry.”, the metalhead whispered. 

“For what, Eddie?! This is amends right? Make them!”

The doctor heard Steve sigh as his head turned from you both. “Steven, what was that?”

“Nothing.”

“No, not nothing. Use the feelings chart if you need to.” 

You and Eddie roll your eyes at the same time.

“Jesus Christ, I’m angry.”

“At who? At Y/N?”

You see the answer in his face and it throws you off guard as you wait for him to explain. 

“He’s angry with me.”, Eddie heavily growls under his breath.

“Why is that?”

“Take your pick.”, the metalhead responds for him. “We got drunk and high together. I never tried to stop him nor did I ever stop him from cheating on Y/N which was hypocritical because I accused her of cheating on us all the time. I’m the one that convinced him to leave her at the accident and I’m the reason…”

“Oh, don’t stop now, Munson. You’re on a roll.”, Steve sassed.

“You’re as much to blame for her leaving as I am.”

The boy turned on his friend rising to his feet as Eddie did the same. 

“You’re the one that ODed on our floor!”

“And you’re the one that was so drunk you passed out on the couch and didn’t even wake up till after the ambulance was long gone!”

“You’re the one that fucking HIT HER!”

The room went quiet again as what they both were saying hung in the air. 

“Can we stop for the day, please?” Your small voice slices the tension in half as the counselor nods and stands to take your hand so he can lead you out. 

Eddie doesn’t say a word as he gathers his things and flies past everyone out the door towards his van before skidding away. 

“He is doing a lot better. They both are but Edward seems to struggle more when it comes to facing that part of his trauma.”

“He never wanted to be like his dad. That was one of his biggest fears.”, you sigh.

“Thank you for coming by. I would like to try this again with them and you. Whenever you’re ready of course.”

############

You sip your coffee as you sit in the booth at the diner a few blocks from your house. You had so much trouble falling asleep as all the anxieties of seeing them and being back here hit you like a ton of bricks. After what happened today, you weren’t sure if you could do another session with them but you were surprised by how it unfolded. You had so many questions about the past but new revelations gave you new things you wanted to ask. Had Steve always blamed Eddie for the things that happened? Did Eddie blame himself? They both seemed more agitated and angrier then when they weren’t sober. Why? Was it because you left or were there things they hadn’t faced yet?

“Hey Sally. Can I have some coffee please?” As you looked up from your beverage your eyes locked with Steve’s weary ones. “Hey, um, I’m just getting some caffeine and then I’ll be gone so…”

“Couldn’t sleep either?”, you asked causing him to exhale a breathy chuckle.

“Um, kind of. Eddie didn’t come home so I’ve been looking for him. Sometimes when he’s stressed he hides and smokes like a carton of cigarettes before heading to work the next morning. I still haven’t found out where he goes.”

“You two don’t go to the pool anymore?” He shook his head before thanking the waitress as she hands him his to go cup. “I may know where he is. I found him there once when his dad sent him a letter from jail. I…I can show you.”

“Oh, hon- Y/N, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

After sliding out of the booth, you threw some money on the table and sauntered past him as you walked out the front door. 

“If anything, I’m more comfortable doing this than the group therapy bullshit.”

***

Steve sighed when his friend’s van came into view in the driveway of an old run down home.

“How did you know he’d be here?”

“This is where he lived with his parents when he was a boy. He told me once he felt closer to his mom here.”

To the other boy’s surprise, the front door wasn’t locked as you swung it open with no problem. 

“Hey! Get the fu—fuck me. Hey, Y/N. What are you both doing here?” Eddie had quickly risen from the long-abandoned couch when you two had come in.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while, Ed. She volunteered to show me where you might be.”

“Why?” You don’t say anything as your eyes scan him over. “Well, I’m here. I’m safe. I’m fucking sober.” He flashes you both his vest pockets before turning in a circle to show you everything else. “So, you can go back home.”

“Why are you so angry?” Your tone was anything but subtle and slightly loaded with contempt as he tilted his head at your question. “You both seem more on edge now than before I left but especially you Eddie. Why?”

His face flashes through multiple emotions before finally deciding to be honest instead of shutting down. 

“I feel the same way he does. It’s my fault that everything happened. It’s my fault…you left. I don’t deserve to be happy.”

“I don’t know about that.”, you grumble as you cross your arms. “I think you should feel bad about our time together… you and Steve. I think you deserve to be happy but you have to feel what I went through first before you can and it seems like at this moment that frightens you both but especially you.”

“Y/N, look at me! Him and I have fucking crawled our way to sobriety. Steve confessed to the accident and I talked to my uncle like you wanted. We both went to rehab and talked about our feelings and shit. We suffer every fucking day to be better! I mean…”

“I wanted accountability, Eddie. I’m proud of you two for how far you’ve come and owning up to your mistakes. I really am but you both are still avoiding the reason you turned to your vices; the reason you treated me like garbage. I carried your burdens for you for almost 7 years. It’s time for you to face them and move forward. Be happy.”

“Are you happy?”, Steve asks from behind you.

“I’m happier than I was… I still struggle with my self image and identity without you two.” 

“I’m sorry I don’t understand. We always thought you were way stronger than we ever were. That you had your own powerful identity.”

“Which is why we always thought at some point you would realize you were too good for us or…or someone else would see that and take you away.”, Eddie sighed, disappointed in himself. 

“I almost died but still stayed yet Eddie almost died and that was enough for me to run.”, you shrug as your voice cracks. “You two were my everything. I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you. You were my vice.”

###########

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

“Jesus, Eddie. I was with my mom and I told you both that!”

“Really? You were with your mom until 10pm?!”

“YES! What do I have to do to prove to you, Eddie Munson, that I don’t want anyone else!!”

The metalhead rolled his eyes as he took a seat at the table and snorted the powder he had separated on top of it. 

“Maybe, if you followed through and stop doing this bullshit you’d actually fucking hear me.”

“Watch your mouth, Y/N or I swear to God—”, he warned as he stood up again. 

“You’ll what? Inhale another line and call me a whore?”

“Stop being a whore and I won’t call you one.”

You sarcastically laughed in his face. “Well gee Ed. I need someone to satisfy me since you or your drunken partner in crime can barely seem to get it up anymore!”

Your eyes snapped open as his ringed hand flew across your face, panting as you tried to catch your breath. It had been a while since you had that dream but you thought about that night often; the night he crossed that line. You could still feel the sting of the metal against your skin but what always stuck with you was Eddie’s face after. He regretted it immediately; not even the drugs could block out that. 

You had turned and left without saying a word, crying in your car as you drove around Hawkins trying to clear your head. What always stuck with you in your journey to healing was that at the time even that wasn’t enough for you to leave. Yes, you left the apartment but you had every intention of coming back. Hell, you did! That’s when things really got worse. 

A sudden knock on your bedroom door startled you but what startled you even more was who was on the other side after you granted them entry. 

“Hey, um, I hope I didn’t wake you up or anything.”, Eddie grumbled as he stepped inside.

“No, no you didn’t.”

An awkward silence hung in the air as his eyes swiveled around the room. Memories clung to everything and the bad ones pierced his heart. 

“Look, uh, I know I don’t have any right to ask you for anything but, um, my therapist has been wanting me to visit the prison to see my father because she thinks it will help me. I don’t see how but… I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night…about accountability and facing my burdens…”

“Why are you telling me this, Ed?”

A heavy exhale escapes his lips as he runs his fingers frustratingly through his hair. 

“Will you come with me to see him?” Eddie’s eyes find yours and you see something within them that you’ve seen a million times before but as he speaks again you realize this is the first time he’s acknowledging it. “I’m scared, Y/N. I don’t think…I don’t know if I can do this alone…”

Sighing yourself, you nod and he smiles before leaving you alone so you can change. 

***

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”, you ask as you both wait at the police station booth for them to bring out his father.

“I honestly can’t remember. I want to say since he went in but I know Wayne visited him a lot and I may have gone with him a time or two.” His knee anxiously jumps as he lights another cigarette, flicking the excess ash into the tray in front of him. “Thank you for coming with me.”

As you flash him a small smile, the door on the other side of the glass bangs open as they bring out his father and place him in front of you both. 

“Edward! Good to see you, kid. I don’t think I’ve seen you since you were like six or seven!”

“No, that’s not right. Mom would have been alive and you went in a year after she died when I was ten.”

“Oh. Well shit. You were always small for your age.”, his father dismisses him as he lights his own cigarette.

You had never seen or met Eddie’s dad but seeing him now was giving you some insight into why the metalhead was the way he was. Eddie was about ten years old when you first met him and Steve. He was always really quiet at first and if his father was the same way then as he was being now, then you understood why. 

“So, how can I help you today, son? I assume you’re here because you need something. A new hook up maybe? Rumors around town say there was a few times you and that Harrington kid almost ended up sharing a cell with me!”, he chuckles. “Why are you hanging out with that preppy asshole anyway? Upper class like the Harringtons don’t give a shit about lower class trash like us.”

It was instinct really; a long-forgotten reflex that had been dormant for three years. You reached out to hold Eddie’s hand as his dad spewed his cruelty. The metalhead didn’t visibly react but your gesture of kindness calmed him.

“I’m not trash and I’m nothing like you.”, he growled. 

“Oh really?” His father folded his arms sarcastically as he leaned forward. “You’re like Wayne now, huh? Work at the plant, call every beautiful piece of ass sweetheart. Hell, you even dress like him now.” He snarkily laughs as he lights a new cigarette. “You can dress and act any way you want to, boy, but no matter what, my genes are still a part of you. You’ll always be…a trash Munson.”

“Half.” His father’s eyes swing towards you. “Half of a Munson but thankfully its mostly the good half. The other half is his mother. They both deserved better than you.”

Blowing smoke towards the window he scoots a little closer to your side. 

“You must be Y/N. You know… you remind me a lot of my wife. She was beautiful, kind, loyal to a fault—”

“Then why did you hurt her?”, Eddie asked.

“Why do you?”, his dad snapped. Eddie knew he meant you and it killed him. “If anything, you’re worse than me because if I had driven home drunk and almost killed your mother she would have left me right then and there!” He glances your way. “You’re weak like him…aren’t you little girl?”

It was your turn to cheekily square your shoulders as you leaned forward so close that if there wasn’t glass in the way your noses would have touched. 

“You say he’s weak but he’s not the one behind bars. He’s sober and coming from a woman who knows what a man on drugs looks like I’m surprised they haven’t figured you out yet. You call him weak but the truth is you are. That’s why you never got better or tried to stay out of jail. That’s why you hurt him and his mom. Because even when he was a kid he was more of a man than you will ever be.” 

Tugging on Eddie’s hand, you pulled him to his feet. 

“Come on. I’m not going to let him keep talking down to you.”

Without a word, he followed you out without even so much as a cursory glance towards his father. 

***

You two sat silently in the driveway of your house. The street was quiet as everyone was still either at work or school. 

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie chuckled as he looked your way. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“Eddie…even at your worst…you were nothing like him.”

His long hair whipped from side to side as he shook his head. 

“Y/N, he may have said a lot of bullshit but he was right about one thing… You were…ARE an amazing woman. Even when we were little I was always afraid that someone was going to take you away. Then as we got older and I got worse…I thought you were going to leave. Y/N, you don’t understand, I believed it so deeply that it was almost like an obsession to catch you hurting me. To prove myself right and you wrong; to villainize you so it wouldn’t hurt so fucking bad.”

His chocolate his shift towards the window as he continues. 

“Jokes on me. It still hurt like a motherfucker when I woke up in the hospital and Steve told me you were gone. Y/N, I am so fucking sorry for what happened that night. I—”

As he turned his head to face you, your lips cut him off. Hearing him talk about his feelings and you the way he was, thrust you back into your old mindset. He was hurting and he needed you. Truth be told you needed him to desperately and that was more than evident when you climbed over the middle console to straddle his lap. 

Eddie’s sober mind was screaming for him to stop, to push you off him because he didn’t want to be responsible for your pain again. But he missed you so much and how could he deny you when it appeared like you were hungry for him to make you feel better to?

Pushing up off his lap, you slid off your pants as he adjusted his seat to lean back so you wouldn’t hit your head on the ceiling. Eddie hastily pushed down his own jeans allowing his cock to spring free before spitting in his hand and stroking it along his length. 

You both groaned as you slowly descended onto him, gripping his shoulders as he took hold of your waist. No one except Steve fit perfectly inside of you like Eddie did. Even as he stretched you out, that familiar feeling of him gliding almost seamlessly through your walls till you felt your lap connect with his was almost too much. 

“Fuck, Eddie.”

He didn’t say a word as you began rolling your hips, his jaw going slack as he absorbed the feeling of you he never thought he would experience again. 

Your hands gripped his neck as you bounced roughly on top of him, his warm breath fanning your face as he panted against your lips. As his eyes locked with yours, you hoped he couldn’t see the tears that threatened to fall. Even though you were angry with them, the truth of the matter was that you still loved them. 

Even though they had hurt you all the time and made your life in the past hell, you still craved them. To you they were the lucky ones. There was a rehab and program for people with their addiction. Where do you go when your addiction is a person you love with all heart and then some? It added to your anger over the past three years and anytime you thought about them it made you furious with yourself. 

“You’re weak just like him…aren’t you little girl?”

Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together when he saw you shake your head and lean against his shoulder as you tried to ride him harder. There was something you were keeping from him but he didn’t dare ask. All he could do was thread his fingers through your hair as he pressed you closer to him while he thrust his hips up to meet yours.

“Everything’s ok, sweetheart.  You’re ok.”, he whispered in your ear. “Fuck—cum, baby, please.”

Pulling your head back, you placed your forehead on his own as your eyes squeezed shut and you came harder than you had in a long time. 

“God damn. C-Can I cum inside you?” Right as you gave him your permission, his hands gripped your sides, guiding your motions as he grunted and you felt him release his seed inside of you. The two of you sat still, your heavy breathing the only sound filling the tiny, enclosed space. 

All of a sudden, you felt like you couldn’t hold it in anymore as you fell against his broad chest and began to sob. Unsure of what to do, he acted on instinct, responding the way he used to after you two would fight and you would cry. 

“Sweetheart…FUCK! I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.” He tries to hug you but you shove him away. “Baby, please. Let me make it up to you. Let me hold you.”

As your head hung and your shoulders shook, the last of your resolve faded away and he took the opportunity to lift you in his arms, carrying you to his bed so he could cuddle you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You’re too good for me, princess. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Eddie…what do I have to do…to show you that I love you both and ONLY you both?”

“Nothing, baby. I know. It’s the blow…Fuck…you deserve better. I swear, I’m never taking another hit. I hated seeing you be afraid of me…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I think about that night every day. Every time I have a craving or…I just remember the way you looked at me after I…”

“After you what?” You tilted back to look at him as you waited for his answer. When Eddie shifted his gaze away from you, you sarcastically chuckle as you reached over to grab your pants and keys, opening the driver’s side door as you climb out. “That’s ok, Ed. You’ve had enough accountability for one day.”, you hiss as you slam it closed and stomp inside. 

###########

Steve grumbles under his breath as he asks the waitress for a cup of coffee. Eddie had come home that day in a bad mood and slammed his bedroom door before the sound of heavy metal filled his bedroom as he angrily strummed at his guitar. 

He knew he wasn’t going to be getting much sleep tonight and his dad had been on his ass about reports he was “behind” on so Steve figured he could utilize the time to go to his office to get some work done. 

As he turned to leave, he spotted your sad frame in the same booth you were in a few nights before as you sullenly stared out the window. He should have left you alone but he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in his stomach that told him to make sure you were alright. 

“Couldn’t sleep again?”

Steve expected you to be startled by him with how deep in thought you seemed to be but when you half smiled and turned to face him, he couldn’t help but tilt his head. It almost seemed like you were waiting for him; expecting him to show up. 

“Something like that. What about you?”

“Uh, same. I thought I’d go to the office a bit and utilize the energy to get some work done.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked down at your watch. “At 11 pm?”

“Yeah.”, he laughs. “My dad’s anger and disappointment operate outside of normal timeframes so…” Steve smiles as he raises his cup in your direction. “I’ll, um, leave you to it.”

As he turns to leave, however, he notices you nod and hug you’re your arms around your body. You always used to do that when you were trying keep yourself from falling apart. 

“Steve, seriously, you’re not going to be able to wake up for work tomorrow if you finish that bottle.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. I know my limits ok!? Get off my fucking back!”, he slurs as he heads for the couch. His eyes glance over you as your arms wrap around you. “Honey…I’m okay. Trust me.” You wince at his words. Trust me. If there were two people in the world who couldn’t be trusted, it was them. 

He rolls his eyes as he throws himself down on the sofa. 

“Whatever. Go mother someone else.”

“You absolutely don’t have to but would you like to come hang out with me? We don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. You can sit there while I pretend to know what I’m doing.”

You laugh. You actually genuinely laugh and Steve feels like an arrow pierced his chest. God, he missed that sound. 

***

“Uh, just ignore the mess here.”, he mumbles as shuffles some papers aside and slides a chair over for you to sit in. Before he can hide it, your eyes notice the picture of you three on his desk. “Yeah, let me just move that—”

“It’s ok. You can leave it there.” He nods as he begins to focus on things in front of him. “How much of that day do you remember?”

Steve smirks as he pretends to write on the documents in front of him. 

“It’s one of the few days I actually do from beginning to end. Probably because the amusement park at the time didn’t allow alcohol and they confiscated my flask.”, he laughs but there’s a sadness behind it. “We took you there for your birthday and I don’t think you stopped smiling once.”

“Steve, do you really blame Eddie for everything?”

The man sighed at your abrupt question as he leaned back in his chair. “For everything? No. For you leaving? Yes. Y/N, I almost fucking killed him when I found out he put his hands on you.”

“What the fuck did you do, Edward Munson?!”

“I-I-I—”

“She just ran past me in the hallway and sped off when I tried to stop her. WHAT. HAPPENED?!”

“Steve, I didn’t mean to…I-I-I got so mad…”

Steve angrily grabbed his collar and yanked him up till his face was level with his. “Did you touch her? Did you fucking hit her, EDDIE!?”

Something in the metalhead’s eyes changed as he shoved his friend backwards off of him. 

“Don’t act like your God’s gift to boyfriends, Steven! Let’s not forget YOU almost fucking killed her!” Eddie marched into the bedroom and slammed the door while Steve furiously punched the wall before heading to the fridge to grab a beer.

“Him popping me isn’t why I left. When I drove off after you chased me, I had always planned on coming back…” You looked away as you tried to shake the memory. “Why do you work here? I figure with you trying to be sober this would be the worst place for you to be.”

“You would figure correctly.”, he exhales as he looks around. “Uh, after I turned myself in, no one wanted to hire me. I was too much of a liability so my dad gave me this wonderful slice of heaven.” You smile at his sarcasm. “Every day is hard but I’m doing the work. The group therapy helps as well as my amends.”

“Did you father ever participate in that?”

“Pfft, no. My father hasn’t changed, Y/N. If anything, he’s worse and makes sure to remind me every day that I’m a fuck up to our name.”

“You were never a fuck up, Steve.”

His honey eyes scan you over before he beams in your direction and flashes you some of his paperwork. “I don’t know. Have you ever tried going through this bullshit? It’s so mind numbing you may accidently fuck up!”

As he continues to work, he walks you through what he’s supposed to do and exactly how his dad wants it done. Steve can’t help but revel in this feeling of you being so close to him again and helping him. 

When he first met you in elementary, you were always so kind to him and Eddie. Sometimes he would come to school and the teacher would snap at him because he didn’t do his homework the night before. When you asked him about it, he would tell you that he didn’t understand the material and his father wouldn’t help him. 

“He says I’m stupid and I should know all this stuff by now.”

“Steve, you’re not stupid. How are you supposed to know it when we just learned it?”

From that point forward, both boys came over to your house to study and have you walk them through the material. Eddie said you always made it easy. As they got older though, Steve skated by on his popularity while Eddie settled with doing the bare minimum. They thought you didn’t know but you were highly aware that they would copy your answers on assignments all the time. 

When Steve had started drinking, he always smelled heavily like whatever was in his flask at the time so as he got worse it was harder and harder for you to be around him. He hated seeing you cringe every time he pulled you to his side. 

Now that he was sober, he smelled like a mix of cologne and the office space he worked in with a hint of his roommate’s cigarette smoke that you imagine constantly hung in the air. 

“Ok, let me put these on his desk and then I can walk with you back to our cars.”

You followed him to his father’s office, giggling under your breath at the obnoxiousness of it. It was way too big for one man and had a massive swanky office chair to match his comically large desk. On the walls, he had awards hung along with pictures of him with clients. 

“No pictures of you or your mom?”

“Oh, my mom made the shelf.”, he answers sassily as he points towards the bookshelf beside him. “Not too many though, just in case the newest side piece comes to visit.”

You come to his side as your eyes search through the photos.

“Where are you?”

“No, no, honey. I don’t get a photo. I’m the Harrington that crashed a car and almost killed a young girl. Can’t really make small talk about that when his associates come by.”

“Steve…”

“I mean, it’s fine.” He shoves his hands in his pockets as he looks towards his feet. “He’s right. I’m an embarrassment. I left the woman I love to bleed out in an accident that I caused because I was too fucking drunk to see straight.” With his hand, he gestures around the office. “I deserve this.”

Once more, instinct takes over logic as you tilt up on your toes and crane your neck to find his lips. It so odd tasting him now that his mouth and breath weren’t basted in bourbon or beer. The best way to describe his new taste is what could have been. The life you three could have had if he and Eddie had never found their vices. 

When you start to pull away his palms quickly cup your face bringing you back to him. His kisses came quick and passionate as he backed you towards his father’s desk, lifting you up, and placing you onto it. Rising your hips, you allowed him to remove your sweats and panties as you reached forward to fumble with his belt. 

When his cock sprang free, you wasted no time as you spit into your hand and massaged it into your cunt before he guided himself into you sex. 

Steve grunted at the feeling of you tightly clinging to him again, doing everything he could to not just cum right now. He was completely lost in you as he reached behind your back and shoved everything on to the floor without a second thought. 

You promptly laid down flat and he followed you, his mouth clinging to your neck as he thrust his hips against yours. 

“S-Steve…Oh my god…”, you whimpered as you ran your nails through his hair and under his shirt. It had been so long since he made anyone feel good in anyway. His parents hated him, people in town always side eyed him, and Eddie was just as miserable as he was. Hearing you moan his name in pleasure, drove him wild as he hoisted you further up the desk and fully climbed on top of you. 

The desk jostled underneath as Steve rolled his hips, practically punching the air out of your lungs as his fingers tangled in your hair. 

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna…”

Your pussy tightened around him as the coil in your tummy snapped and he mewled as your nails clawed at his skin. His head shot up to look in your eyes and you nodded at the unspoken question within them.

Steve’s lips connect with yours and after a few more rough thrusts he spills inside of you. 

“Are…are you ok?”, he asks as he leans up on his elbows. When you nod, he softly smiles as he brushes away some hair in front of your face. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry for the accident, for abandoning you, my behavior when I was drunk.”

“What about the behavior, Steve? How much of it do you really remember?”

“I remember screaming at you a lot and calling you names. I called you a whore more than once—”

“Even though you cheated on me.”

Steve’s jaw tightened as he gradually pulled out of you and sat in his father’s chair, handing you your clothes that had been tossed onto the floor. 

“I was a fucking prick.”

“How much of the night of the accident do you remember?”

“I remember the car flipping and Eddie pulling my arm, telling me to run—”

“What about the night he ODed?”

“I-I…he…he hurt you and then tried to block it out by snorting his drug…”

“And where were you?” You chuckle when he looks at you with a bewildered look on his face. “He’s right, you know. You are just as much to blame for me leaving as he is. You can’t make amends, Steve, if you keep blaming Eddie for everything.”

###############

Without an invitation, your mother barged into the boy’s apartment as soon as Steve opened the door to her knock. 

“Mrs. Y/L/N? Is everything alright?”

She didn’t answer as she opened Eddie’s door without knocking. 

“Hey! The fuck?” The metalhead quickly rose to his feet following her out into the living room. 

Steve tried to grab her arm to get her attention and she promptly turned around, allowing her palm to connect with his cheek.

“Where is she? What did you two do?!”

“Where is who? What is going on?”, Eddie asked completely confused. 

“My daughter didn’t come home last night and we can’t find her anywhere! I lost my baby for 3 years because of you two! Now if you know where she is tell me NOW!”

“We swear, Mrs. Y/L/N. If we knew we would tell you.”

She shakes her head as she marches towards the door before pausing and turning to face them. 

“If I had known what was really going on at the time, I never would have let you both into my house or near my daughter. If I had known that you were the reasons her self esteem was so low…the real reason she cried so much…the reason why you almost took her away from me forever!”, she roared as she pointed at Steve. “I would have killed you two myself. I shouldn’t have convinced her to come back. You both are a poison.”

With that she left them, slamming their front door for emphasis. Steve slowly heads into his room and grabs his car keys as he lightly tugs Eddie’s sleeve.

“Come on. I think I know where she might be.”

***

“I’m sorry, Munson.”

The metalhead tossed the butt of his cigarette out into the passing street as he rolled up the window. 

“No reason for you to be.”

“No, no. You were right. I’m as much a reason for how things ended up as you are. I just… the hardest thing for me is trying to figure out why all this happened. When Y/N breaks she says the same thing, ‘Why wasn’t I enough?’. I ask myself that all the time but struggle with the truth…so I blamed you.”

“She came with me the other day to see Allen. He insinuated it was in my genes. I’m meant to be a fuck up who hurts her.” He smiles softly as he continues. “She said I had more of Wayne and my mother’s genes.” They both lightly chuckle as Eddie fiddles with the ring on his finger. “Truth is, Harrington, I think we let our father’s win. Like she said, we spent our entire lives being afraid to become them that we became the very things were afraid of.”

“I was terrified to face the things we did to her. I was terrified…of knowing and accepting that I made her feel the way my dad made me feel growing up.”

“Yeah, man. Me to. That’s…that’s why what happened that night happened. There wasn’t enough blow in the world to numb the pain of me physically hurting her, Steve.”

***

When they pulled up to the elementary school, you were sitting on one of the swings with your head against the chain. This is where they first met you, on the playground when they were kids. As they walked towards you, you didn’t move or make indication to acknowledge their presences.

Steve stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he smelled it, whiskey. 

“Y/N, sweetheart? Are you alright? Your mom said you didn’t come home last night.”

As he knelt down to your level, Eddie noticed the ring of redness around your nose and the dilation in your eyes. 

“You two aren’t supposed to be here.”, you slurred. 

“Neither are you, honey. Come-Come on, we need to get you home.”

As Steve finally stepped closer, you held up your foot to stop him and pushed Eddie backwards. 

“You know, the alcohol I kinda got but with the drugs…watching what it did to you, Ed, I was like…why would he do this…it can’t be that great… After trying it myself… Hehe…I feel nothing.”, you giggle.

“Baby…”

“Usually when I get sad… I just cry it out…maybe fuck some sexy guy but do you know what’s really kept me going for three years? Knowing…that you two…are suffering without me.” Your finger raises to point at them shakily as your glassy eyes glare their way. “You say every day is hard? Good. It should be. Every day you…drag your asses out of bed…drudge to your work and put on that fake smile…I hope it’s hard. I did it for 7 years… You should be sad. Neither one of you deserved me.”

Without saying a word, they both turned and headed back to the car. Thirty minutes later, your mother pulled up to the playground and brought you back home. After laying you down in your bed, she crawled in beside you and held you as you cried.

###############

“Y/N, thank you for coming back to do this. I really appreciate you taking the time and I know they do as well.” 

You nodded at the doctor’s words as you continued to stare into the floor at their shoes. Steve had his hand over his mouth as he stared out the window while Eddie looked towards the door with his arms folded across his chest. 

“So, um, I was thinking we could start with—”

“I couldn’t wake either of you up.”, you interjected as you continued to look at the carpet. “I came home and Eddie was on the floor by his bed. He…he didn’t respond to me so I ran to Steve, fucking shaking him and practically pulling him off the sofa but… I rode in the ambulance with him and I watched them…” A tear falls and you quickly wipe it away. “I sat by your side, Ed, and waited for hours till doctors told me you were going to be ok.”

“I kept thinking ‘What the fuck am I doing? They abandoned me and left me alone in a hospital for months. I shouldn’t be here…but I can’t leave him. I love them.’ That’s when I knew I needed to leave. I could never be like you even though it’s what you deserved. I couldn’t keep…loving you when I knew if the tables were turned…you would have left me on the bedroom floor.” Your voice cracked at your last sentence and when you finally managed to look their way both men were trying to hide tears of their own as they continued to look in opposite directions. 

The doctor clears his throat as he nervously rubs his palm along his knee. 

“Guys? Any response?”

“She’s right.”, Steve mumbled. “We would have left her there. Hell, if it wasn’t for her, I would have left Eddie there. I was so drunk I didn’t even know. I never thought he would…overdo it like that.”

“Me either.”, Eddie followed. “But I never thought I’d hit her either.”

His eyes find yours as you sniffle, grateful to finally hear him say and admit it. He was finally taking accountability. 

“Sweetheart, you always ask why you were never enough but the truth is…”

“…Baby, we weren’t good enough for you. You deserved so much better.”

You broke then, covering your eyes as you cried. The atmosphere shifted in front of you, feeling fingers delicately grip your wrist and bring your hands back down to your lap. 

“Can I hug you?”

You tackled your arms around Eddie’s neck as he lifted you from the chair and held you tightly to him. Warmth abruptly encased you as Steve hugged you both, one arm wrapped around your stomach as his other rested on his friend’s shoulders. 

***

“Hey, sweetie. How was it?”, your mom asked as you walked through the door after the session.

“It was good.”

Her eyes scanned you worriedly at your timid response. “Are you ok, Y/N?”

“Yeah, mom. It was just a heavy day. I’m going to go lay down ok?”

“Ok, baby. Are you sure you don’t want to eat something?”

“Maybe later.”

As soon as your head hit the pillow on your bed, you crashed. For 10 years, you had carried everything that was theirs making it your own. Even after you left, you held on to their burdens even though you no longer had to pay for them. Hearing them say what they said and seeing the truth in their eyes was like a weight had been lifted.

They truly wanted to get better and hopefully now they could really move forward instead of being stagnate. As you drove home, you couldn’t help but feel utterly alone. Who were you without them needing you? Even in these past three years, you were still searching for who you were as an individual but they were always in the back of your mind. Maybe they always would be. That made you feel even more lonely because all you knew was their toxic sides. Who were they now?

You were still asleep when the breeze from the open window gave you a chill that ran up your spine. It suddenly stopped as you stirred at the soft sound of it closing before being followed by what sounded like shoes quietly hitting the floor. 

You sighed at the smell of cologne and cigarettes that filled your room reminding you of many naughty nights when you were younger. 

“Steve!”, you hiss. “You can’t…can’t…fuck…”

“Can’t what, honey?”, he slurred. “Oh, you mean this?”

You quickly covered your mouth as he slammed his hips roughly into yours, hitting that sensitive spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling. 

“You have to be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want to wake up mommy and daddy.”

You bite into your pillow as Eddie’s hand came around to press circles into your clit.

“Shhh, sweetheart. I know, I know it feels good. You can take it, pretty girl. Cum again for me, baby.”

Shouting into your pillow you do as he commands as he pounds into you harder till you feel him warm your insides. You whine at the overstimulation as he leans over your sweaty frame to grab the drugs he left lying on your bed side table.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m not done just yet.”

You bed dipped on either side of you and once again you were encased in warmth as an arm circled around you from behind and a palm rested on your cheek. Your own limbs reached out pulling him as close to you as you could making both men groan as you began subtly grinding your hips between them. 

Soft lips landed on yours and the strong taste of coffee told you it was Steve, further proved when your fingers ran through his hair. As you turned to find Eddie, the other boy’s kisses gently trailed down your jaw line to your neck. Every single kiss and touch was delicate as if they were afraid you’d shatter like glass. 

“Y/N, open your eyes, honey.”

“Please.”, Eddie begged when you shook your head.

When you did what they ask, you were met with Steve’s smiling face. “So beautiful. Can we take off your clothes?”

You nod as you shift on to your back, allowing each boy to undress you until you were naked before them. Steve couldn’t help but run his fingers over the scar on your stomach. You were always self-conscious about it especially when God forbid your shirt would ride up or you would be intimate with a man and someone would ask what happened. He didn’t need to ask. He already knew and it killed him every time he saw it. Before you left, after he would fuck you, Steve would slunk to the kitchen to grab the strongest drink he could find to block out the memory.  Now, he lingered, letting his lips trace over the tissue as your fingers tenderly petted his head.

Eddie removed his clothing, pausing when your eyes noticed a new tattoo on his chest above his heart. 

“Never tell me the odds.

August 1988—”

“From Star Wars…the three of us saw that on our first official date and this is when I became sober.”

Tilting your head, he pleasantly sighed when your lips tenderly kissed along the ink on his chest.

“Just lay back, baby. We got you.”

The metalhead’s tongue pressed against your skin and slid down to meet his friend halfway as they both gripped each of your thighs to hold you open wider for them. While Steve’s mouth wrapped around your clit, Eddie’s tongue continued to taste your body, darting in and out of you entrance making you whimper. 

Their hands continued to roam until the metalhead took over so the other boy could remove his clothes as well. When he climbed back into your bed his hand petted your head as he attached his lips to your neck, sucking on your flesh, and making you moan as your pussy clenched around Eddie’s tongue.

Your fingers pressed his face deeper into you and his hands dug into your hips as he devoured you until your body trembled, clinging to them both as you came.

As if they expected everything to be the same, Steve turned to reach in the drawer by your bed and produced a bottle of lube that he passed to his friend. His palms cupped your face as he kissed your forehead. 

“Freshman year my dad gave me the grown man speech. ‘Son, you’re starting high school. Time to grow up and buckle down! Your life starts now.’ He then proceeded to fuck his secretary in his office since my mom was out of town. He said MY life started now but I know he meant HIS life…how he pictured it for me being just like him. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey from our bar and hid upstairs. That was my first drink.”

He lifted your leg over his hip and you both groaned as he guided himself inside of you. Steve kissed your chin down your jawline as your head tilted back when you felt Eddie rubbing the lube between your cheeks. 

“I was in town that summer before freshman year hanging out with Rick and getting some food. I tripped over something and fell against a car making the alarm blare. This woman came out and yelled at us threatening to call the cops. Rick tried to explain what happened but she didn’t care. ‘Like father like son!’. I couldn’t stop thinking about her reaction and the weed wasn’t helping… that was the first time I tried the harder drugs.”

His mouth fell open as he slowly slid his cock into your ass, gripping your waist as he kissed your shoulder blade.

You pulled them both as close to you as you could get them as they both started thrusting into you. 

“I-I loved you since the moment…I met you two.” After kissing his lips, Steve panted against yours as he mewled and his eyebrows scrunched together in focus. “You were so sweet, Steve. I-I—fuck—I fell off the jungle gym…and you ran to me…helped me.”

Eddie’s arms squeezed you tighter to his chest as you turned to kiss him, pressing your forehead against his cheek as he moaned.

“You…you made me laugh, Eddie. W-When we came to the swings—mmm—you kept telling me jokes to make me…smile.”

They both pumped into you faster and you held them both as your eyes closed. 

“You helped me…I never stopped trying to help you.”

Steve lopped his arm under knee, holding your leg up higher against his body to allow them to hit you in different angles as you turned to press your face into your pillow. You shook in their hands as you came.

Eddie gripped your bicep and grunted in your ear as he rolled his hips till you felt him warm your insides. Steve soon followed, groaning as he used your thigh for leverage and pounded into you till he coated your walls with his release.

They gradually pulled out of you and the metalhead used the glass of water by your bed to wet the hand towel he found in your closet to gently clean your lower half. Neither of you wanted to risk sneaking to your bathroom and being discovered by one of your parents. 

“I’m sorry for ruining holidays and anniversaries because I was too drunk to care or even act right. I’m sorry for snapping at you and screaming at you for every little thing especially when you were trying to help.” Steve’s fingers brush your hair away from your face as his thumb caressed your cheek. “I’m sorry for cheating on you. The alcohol made me believe that you would do it to. I’m sorry for what happened with Glen. I couldn’t accept you being happy with anyone who wasn’t us.”

“I’m sorry for the accident. Y/N, I never should have gotten behind that wheel and I never should have left you, honey.” His voice cracked and your heart broke as you wrapped your arm around his waist. “I’m so fucking sorry for leaving you alone afterwards. I was so fucking scared because I knew it was my fault. I chose to stay home and drink instead of seeing what I had done to you. I’m sorry for being so wasted you couldn’t wake me up when you needed me. I was so fucking angry at Eddie…at the situation…I’ve never learned how to handle emotions like that… fuck…even now. I don’t know how to tell my dad to fuck off.”

His glassy eyes meet yours as he firmly holds your head in his hands. 

“I am sorry, Y/N. None of what happened was your fault. You did nothing wrong to instigate any of our behavior.” Steve pulled you to his chest as you both sobbed. 

Eddie waited patiently as he watched everything front of him. When you rolled over to face him, his friend extended him the same courtesy as the metalhead reached out to wipe your eyes. 

“Sweetheart, to me you were always perfect. Since the day we met you, you had this light inside  that just radiated from you. I spent the first part of my life in darkness and when my mom died…I thought I’d never be happy again…then you came along. Y/N, I was so terrified something was going to happen or someone was going to take you from me; from us. The drugs made me believe that by degrading you or fighting any man that even looked at you…it would help keep you here.”

“I’m sorry for calling you names and throwing things at you when I was angry because the blow just amplified those fears. It made me feel helpless. I’m sorry for frightening you and making you cry all the time with broken promises because I just…couldn’t quit.”

“I’m sorry about Glen. Because of what I said while I was high he left you and broke your heart even more. I’m sorry about abandoning you…at the accident. Steve was right, it was my idea. I had so much drugs in my pocket, when I heard the sirens I thought about myself instead of you. I didn’t want to end up in jail like my father…”

Eddie’s jaw tightened as you watched him struggle to continue. Placing your arm on his hip, you leaned in to kiss his lips hoping to comfort him. 

“I’m sorry I hit you, Y/N.”, he whispered. “I so fucking stoned…I didn’t even… I should have run after you. I should have waited for you to come back home and groveled at your feet. I should have made a plan then and there to get clean. All I kept thinking about was your face and how you looked at me; the way my mom used to look at my dad after he’d hurt her. I just wanted to erase it. I couldn’t handle being like him. I’m sorry you had to find me like that and I’m so fucking sorry you had to handle that on your own. I’m so sorry.”

He held you as you cried and after a while Steve’s arm circled around you as Eddie continued petting your hair while your eyes slowly began to close. 

“I forgive you.”

***

The sun gleaming through your window woke you up the next morning and you groaned as you stirred from your sleep. As you opened your eyes, you quickly realized you were alone, your eyes scanning the area till you notice a note on your nightstand with your name.

“Y/N,

We both have so much more we want to say but we are nowhere near ready to express them the way we want to. We meant what we said in therapy…you always deserved better than us. More importantly, you deserved to be happy. 

While you were sleeping, we talked about a lot of things and we realized that while the three of us are doing so much better we still have a way to go. I’m quitting my job with my dad today and finally figuring out who I am. You inspired me to travel and do some soul searching on my own. 

I’m taking some time off work and touring with the guys. I spent most of my life either being afraid of my dad or becoming him. Princess, you showed me it’s ok to just be Eddie Munson. I want to do something that would make my mom proud. 

We wanted to wake you up and tell you this but we knew as soon as those beautiful eyes met ours we’d talk ourselves out of leaving. Truth is, honey, you still have some healing to do to.

You said you were still trying to figure out who you were without us. Maybe now, pretty girl, you can let go and finally be free. 

In two years, Eddie and I will have been sober for 5 years total and we’d love to celebrate that with you. Meet us at the diner August 1993. If you don’t show up, we’ll understand. If you’re married with kids, we’d love to hear about them. No matter what, we love you and we just want you to be happy. 

Steve & Eddie

################

1993

Eddie showed up an hour early, bouncing his leg as he flicked his ash into the tray. The man breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a BMW pull into the parking lot and hastily stood up from the table to meet Steve halfway as he gave his friend a hug. 

“Hey Harrington. Jesus, you look good.”

“Thanks, Ed. So do you, man. How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright. A few months ago, we signed with a label so the guys and I have just been recording 24/7.”

“No way! That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, thank you. What about you?”

“I’m doing ok. My dad cut me off after I left so I’ve actually been doing some odd jobs while traveling. About a year ago, I settled a bit up north and got my certification to be a counselor for people struggling with addiction.”

“Well look at you.”, Eddie chuckled.

The sound of a throat clearing got their attention and they both turned to see you standing before them with the biggest smile they had ever seen on your beautiful face. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around Eddie’s neck as held you to him.

“God, sweetheart, you look so beautiful.”

You turned to Steve who lifted you off your feet. “Me? Look at you two. I never would have imagined…”

The three of you scooted into the booth talking well into the evening about everything these past two years held. For the first time, no one was angry, sad, or heartbroken. For the first time since you met them, they seemed content and at peace. For that you were extremely grateful. 

##############

@sheisjoeschateau

@peachy-bunnns

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Alright buckle up here's my actual genuine reaction....

First episode:

First of all, I regret asking for more Hemlock, this was fantastically awful, I will not be recovering.

Second of all, that shaved clone has done things to me. Horrible, horrid things that made me actually pause it and look away. It made me physically ill, it was the worst. Great, but the worst.

The passage of time really did fucking get to me BUT HER LITTLE PONYTAIL UGH

crosshair..... I need a moment

EMERIE !!!! CANT STAND HER !!!!!!!!!!! SNITCH ASS BITCH

I literally don't care that she was allowed to keep the doll, btw. I dont give a shit. I hope Emerie dies in a fire.

nala se.... ew............

I think the whole episode was just pure horror, it was so fucking disgusting to watch, idk about you guys but watching the clone who had probably faced the true horror of SCI-FI warfare crying alone in his cell genuinely had me pausing the episode. Really great work there, Jennifer, I will be billing you for my therapy

Crosshair and Omega bonding !!! The little "What's your mission objective" was definitely a tactic he used on his brothers to have them pay attention, I refuse to acknowledge that he's the youngest, he just isn't. That's big brother keeping his little brother(s) on task behaviour.

Everything about Hemlock gave me chills. I love him. I hate him. I hope his guts cover the screen. I am fascinated by him.

I had a sneaking suspicion Emerie was taken under Hemlock's wing, and her undoing will be her endless loyalty to him... they did not have to say it as obviously as that, though. Glad they did.

Crosshair is sick. There is no way you show us all these sick, dying clones then Crosshair and expect us not to figure that out. He's going to die. His shaking is just the first symptom. I am not ready.

I definitely have more smaller notes I will make once I am not sobbing hysterically about it !!!!

Episode two!!:

This is the one that made me cry, actually.

Watching Wrecker and Hunter march in, quiet and covered in countless injuries, made me so sad. I couldnt recognise them. Those aren't my lads.

Wrecker begging hunter not to go because people didn't make it back.... hunter I get you're desperate, but you will NOT survive another brother being killed. I can't bear to watch him tear himself apart and neither can Wrecker.

WEEPED LIKE AN ACTUAL BABY WHEN I SAW THOSE CLONE BABIES.... THEYRE TOO YOUNG.

"99ers???" THERES FUCKING MORE ??????? I want to know the lore behind this line particularly.

Theyre so cute..... they're so CUTE ugh sedate me immediately

THE WAY HUNTER WAS LOST AT THE START BTW WITH THE TECH AND HE WAS GETTING FRUSTRATED AND HE IMMEDIATELY LOOKED TO OMEGAS STUFF AND LET HIS GRIP LOOSEN ON THE DATAPAD HE WSS THINKING OF HIS YOUNGEST TWO SIBLINGS I WILL NEVER FUCKING RECOVER DAVID AND JENNIFER LET THEM BE HAPPY !!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyways that little fucker who was good with tech..... I see you. I love you.

They were so used to letting Tech do his thing.... they immediately moved to cover fire....... for a second they forgot it wasnt him, I'm weak

THE CRATE FROM S1 YOU HORRIBLE BASTARDS WHEN WILL YOU LET ME DIE

wrecker playing with the kids..... laughing with them....... ohh i will not cope when he dies.

Hes going to die, btw. In case you didn't know. I know. I am aware. I am unprepared. I dont want to discuss it.

PABU..... THEYRE GOING TO PABU WHEN I TELL YOU I SOBBED. MY MOTHER HAD TO HOLD ME. I WAS INCONSOLABLE FOR FIFTEEN WHOLE MINUTES!!!!!!

i cannot express my feelings for this episode.

Episode three!!!!!!:

I want that man. Yes, i do mean that masked man we saw for two seconds, I want him.

The Emperor had me actually screaming. I was so hyped. He scares me so bad.

Hemlock!!!!!! Evil !!!!!!!! CUNT !!!!!!!!!!!!

nala se was so obvious about her "Get tf out" speech..... why don't you say it louder, the whole fucking room couldn't hear you

The fucking timer. Chills. CHILLS.

Crosshair and Omega !!!! He was so unserious I love that

....sorry to all the lovers tho, have to say i DIED laughing at his "gUaRdS"

And the SCREAM he scrumpt when the door opened, who allowed that 😭😭 it was so fucking funny whbeisbwiba

They were so messy this entire ep, they're everything to me......

"Of course he did" DO YOU WANT ME TO FUCKING DIE ?!?!?!? WHO FUCKING GAVE YOU THE RIGHT CAUSE IT WASNT FUCKING ME

Crosshairs trigger finger shaking so bad he gave his position away....... that's a major fucking problem, isn't it? That's gonna bite him in the ass.

I want more of Hemlock having a damn tantrum, that was fantastic. Him this season has me in a chokehold. I can't wait to write more of him.

This entire season so far is amazing. I can't wait to watch more, there are so many more points I wanna make, I'm freaked. I'm so happy, I'm still crying, I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Making more coherent thoughts about them soon <3

[drpoisonoaky]

Azula is training with the rest of the group cause her therapist ask her to do it. And she’s a great patient

disclaimer: this is years later (at least they’re in their twenties) bc one azula is in therapy; two i’m not comfortable doing some dynamics with literally children even though is nothing explicit

——— Aang

Aang: So let’s start with breathing exercises.

Aang: This helps to have a clear mind.

Azula: I usually do it too.

Aang: Really? That’s so grea-

Azula: Doesn’t help at all. But hey we need to breath in order to bend.

Aang: Meditation?

Azula: See awful things.

Aang: Aromatherapy?

Azula: The smell is awful.

Aang: What did you do then to have a clear mind?

Azula: You’re so funny avatar.

Aang: *looking at her worried*

Azula: So funny. So what’s next?

Aang: Call your therapist.

——— Sokka

Sokka: So first thing first you get a boomerang.

Azula: I would rather not.

Sokka: I hit you with a boomerang before, you have to learn how to use it. At least as signal of respect.

Azula: Just cause something hit you doesn’t mean you have to respect it or like it.

Azula: My father used to hit me and I don’t really respect or like him at all.

Sokka:

Sokka: I gonna hug you and then we’ll spare bare handed. Come here.

Azula: DON’T YOU DA-

——— Toph

Toph: *hit Azula with a rock*

Azula: *throws a blaze of blue fire to Toph*

[Keep doing this until both are clearly exhausted and dirty]

Toph: That was fun.

Azula: Indeed.

Toph: Let’s do it again sometime.

Azula: Sure.

——— Suki

Suki: You have to wear the kyoshi warriors’ makeup.

Azula: We’re training not on a mission.

Suki: I’m wearing it.

Azula: And I admire your bravery for wear that but no thank you.

Suki: To train with me you have to wear it, end of the discussion.

Azula: The last time I wear that filthy makeup I conquered Ba Sing Se.

Suki, raising one eyebrow: The last time I wear this filthy makeup I was trying to train with an ungrateful bitch.

Suki: So?

Azula: Ugh, but if I get a pimple I swear-

——— Zuko

Zuko: No dirty tricks.

Azula: You wound me Zuzu. I would never do something like that to you.

Zuko: You bend lighting at my butt to make me fail in front of dad. So sorry if I don’t trust you.

Azula: *sighs*

Azula: You were already failing, doing that father would laugh at the prank and not punish you for not knowing the forms.

Zuko: I-

Azula: And I admit it was fun. But that’s the truth. And my therapist says I should share my truth of that little moments, especially with you.

Zuko: I didn’t know…are you going to do it again?

Azula: Nah, now you won’t be punished if you mess it up. I’m going to do it while you are eating or something. Like a good sister.

Zuko: We are pretty fuck up, aren’t we?

Azula: At least we’re pretty.

Zuko: *smiling*

Azula: Wait no.

Zuko: Lala did you say we?

Azula, completely red: “I” I said “I” CLEAN YOUR DIRTY EARS!

——— Ty lee

Azula: You don’t going to force me to use the Kyoshi makeup, right?

Ty lee: Nope, that’s Suki’s policy I don’t really care.

Azula: Thank Agni.

Ty lee: I’m going to make you flex baby.

Azula: As if you didn’t know I’m very flexible.

Ty lee: Well we will see. Let’s stretch.

Azula: Do you usually use this as a first move or the flirt start after?

Ty lee: Nah, after. You will see it when we get to the-

Katara: DROP IT RIGHT NOW BOTH OF YOU.

Ty lee: Whao you were right she’s jealous type.

Katara: I am not!

Azula: Then why are you here?

Katara: To train with you, Ty lee’s training looks what I need right now.

Ty lee: Sure. It’s gonna to be awesome. But I’m going to focus on Azula. She asked me first.

Azula: She’s focused on my, sweetheart.

Katara: AND I’M TOO SO WATCH OUT.

Ty lee, whispering: And I don’t even try to make a move.

Azula, also whispering: And she knows I wouldn’t do anything. This is going to be fun.

Katara: STOP WHISPERING I’M HERE.

Azula, ignoring Katara: So what’s next?

——— Mai

Azula: So you throw knives and that’s all?

Mai: What do you want me to do?

Azula: I guess exactly that.

Mai: Maybe we could spicy up?

Azula, raising one eyebrow: I’m listening.

Mai: We need a target.

Azula: Living creature?

Mai: Why not.

Azula: Male or female.

Mai: Whatever.

Azula: Easy or hard?

Mai: Who’s on the hard level?

Azula: Ty lee or Aang.

Mai: And on the easy?

Azula: Sokka or Zuko.

Mai: I guess it’s Sokka’s turn.

Azula: Sure.

Azula: Hey Boomerang boy! If you stay in front of Mai with an apple on your head for 20 minutes lunch is on me.

Sokka: Steak?

Azula: Two steaks.

Sokka: But the good ones.

Azula: Of course.

Sokka: Deal.

Mai: Let’s have fun. Do you want to start?

Azula: I’m going to throw him a boomerang. So you first.

——— Katara

Katara: So listen.

Azula: I’m listening.

Katara: I want to see your hands clearly, not funny business.

Azula: But I am a funny person. And you love my funny business.

Katara: ‘Zula.

Azula: Ok. I’m focus.

Katara: I’m gonna to attack and you going to doge.

Azula: No warm up?

Katara: *throws her a warning splash of water*

Katara: There you go.

Azula: That wasn’t necessary darling.

Katara: No pet names, we’re training.

Azula: Of course. Master Katara.

[two hours later]

Katara: That was good.

Azula: I’m wet and partly freeze. All in a bad way.

Katara: As I said. Good. But you know the better part?

Azula: What?

Katara: I don’t want to see your hands now.

Azula: Why do you don’t…my hands…oh.

Azula: Yeah yes let’s do that.

Katara: You’re a less smooth than you think you’re.

Azula: But I’m hot.

Katara: And very humble.

Azula: Whatever…let’s the funny business begin.

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Part 6

WC: 8.8K

Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

_________________________________________________________________

Instead of hurt, betrayal or disgust, Briar feels heartbroken. Heartbroken Harry had to endure that. She moves closer, embracing him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he violently cries into her shoulder. She rubs circles on his back, letting him get out his upset and frustration. 

“You didn’t deserve that. At all,” Briar says softly. Harry nods, just thankful she’s not upset at him. It took him years of therapy to be able to openly speak about his situation. 

“Do you know his name?”

“Oliver,” Harry rasps. 

“That’s beautiful. I bet he looks so much like you. I bet he has your kind eyes. Your charm. Your ability to make anyone feel special. I bet he’s clumsy like you. And I bet he’d like to meet you, too,” Briar says slowly. 

Harry cries harder, the sobs wracking his body.

They sit there for over an hour before Harry finally calms down. He musters up the courage to look at her. His eyes are so puffy and red, and snot is dripping from his nose.

“I understand if you’re upset with me, and if you never want to see me again,” he sighs in defeat. 

“Harry, look at me,” Briar grabs his face and runs her thumb along his cheek. “I’m absolutely not mad. I wouldn’t wish this situation on anyone. I want to help you deal with this, whatever way you need to.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I think I want to sleep for a while.” 

“Of course, let’s go up.”

~

“Harry, baby. Wake up,” Briar whispers, gently waking Harry from his sleep. It’s well past 11AM. She called Niall to let him know Harry isn’t feeling well. 

Harry stirs, the memories of last night flooding his mind. He’s not even sure if he slept. Briar runs her finger nails along his back, gently soothing him.

“I called us both out of work today, so we’re going to spend it how you want to.”

Harry exhales. He can’t even think of the last time he took a day off. Or the last time he had a panic attack. The two probably coincide.

When Camille left him, he buried himself in work. He quickly rose to the top as an associate, eventually becoming a manager. Now that his predecessors are retiring, Harry sometimes works from 6AM until 8PM. Even on Christmas Day. 

He takes some labored deep breaths.

“Can we go get breakfast?” 

Briar scrunches her eyebrows, not expecting his answer.

“Of course. Take your time getting dressed.” 

Briar leaves the room, already having been up and dressed for hours. She tossed and turned wondering how anyone could treat him that way. Harry loves so strongly and so deeply. She already knows he’d be an incredible father, based on his love for Gus. But, she didn’t know him in his 20’s and 30’s. Maybe he wasn’t as mature as he his now.

Her heart broke again watching him sleep. He looked sad, even when unconscious.

Harry eventually comes downstairs, slowly and solemnly. He pets Gus, reveling in his fluff. He is truly their emotional support dog.

“C-can we go to this place to get a full English? You’ve had it before, right?”

“Yes, when I went to London in high school. Will you eat my beans?”

Harry laughs softly, “Yes, I’ll eat your beans.”

She guides him out to her car, knowing he’s probably not in a state to drive. She’s too nervous to drive his nice car. It’s a beautiful day, so she took the top of her jeep off. She can’t wait to see his hair flying in the wind.

They pull up to his requested breakfast spot. The parking lot is a little deserted. She is relieved, because if he needs to cry a little he can do so without judgement.

The waitress greets them with a chipper tone, but quickly adjusts based on their sad demeanor. Briar orders them both a coffee and full English breakfasts. 

They sit in silence for a while.

“I know I don’t know her, but, should you call your mom? Is this something you’d talk to her about?” 

“I did in the beginning; my sister, too. But then it just became a cycle of discussing the same thing over and over. So I just stopped bringing it up.”

Briar nods, knowing the feeling. After her dad died, she was enrolled in therapy. As a 6 year old, she didn’t have much else to talk about. 

“I saw a therapist for a while. I was a little unwilling to talk about any of my other issues, so after a while they just gave me a prescription and sent me on my way. I felt like I got kicked out.” 

Briar grabs his hand across the table, squeezing it. “That’s the tough part of it; they give you the tools and you’re supposed to just figure out how to use them. There were so many times I just wished my therapist had told me what to do and what to say.”

Harry hums. The food arrives a few minutes later. He gently breaks his egg yolk, “I’d really like you to meet my mum and sister.”

She smiles, “Aw, yes, I’d love to. It didn’t even cross my mind since you met mine so early on. Well, not my mom, I guess.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” He asks, happy to move onto a different topic.

Briar blows air out of her mouth as she tries to recall the last time she saw her mother. 

“Christmas, I guess.” 

“Can I meet her? Or do you just want to wait until it happens organically?” 

“No, no. I should call her soon, anyway. I’ll try and set something up,” Briar says, pushing her food around. She supposes they're both facing their demons head-on today. “Do you mind if my brothers come? They usually need to be coerced into seeing her.”

“Of course not. Whatever is most comfortable for you guys.” 

They eat in silence, only speaking up when the waitress returns to the table every so often.

“I send him birthday cards,” Harry says, staring at his hands.

Briar lifts her head, giving him a look to continue his thought.

“Every year around Christmas time. I’m not even really sure when his birthday is. I’ve never written a note, or anything. I just sign my name ‘Harry’. For all I know, she’s never even told him about me. Or even given him the cards.”

Briar’s sadness returns, evident in her facial expression. 

“H-have you tried contacting your mutual friend? The one that introduced you?”

“I did, years ago. Everything was kind of fresh at that point, and I definitely think he took sides. I’m pretty sure they’re together now. His parents own an art gallery and are involved in high-society over there,” he coughs. “I just look  like a schmuck in comparison. The craziest part of it all, I don’t know what I did to deserve no contact. I’m scared I’ll die never knowing.” 

Briar closes her eyes, willing herself not to cry, “Did you ever fly to France to try and find her? Or her family?” 

“I did. Once. I’d say about 6 months later. I drank whiskey the entire flight to Paris. I didn’t even have any luggage with me. I just marched off the plane and went to where I last knew she lived. I should’ve known her keeping her Paris apartment meant something.” 

“You couldn’t have known,” Briar says softly. 

“I knocked on the door. She opened it so quickly. I think she was expecting someone else. Her jaw dropped, and she tried to close the door on me. I was able to get inside, but she started throwing bottles at me. Then she threatened to get a restraining order against me. She was really showing at that point, so I didn’t want it the police to get involved.” 

Briar is horrified the more he tells her. 

“I went home to my mum’s for a while. Then flew back to the US and just went back to work. I can’t say I’ve done anything substantial since then.” 

“Oh, stop. You renovated a gorgeous house. You started going back to Wynnewood. You’ve become your own boss,” Briar rattles off his accomplishments.

“I just thought I’d be married by now,” Harry chokes up a bit. She moves to his side of the table, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“I know this is ironic coming from a 23 year old; but, there’s no timeline on life, baby. You faced adversity and are moving on from it. That takes a lot of courage.” 

Harry chuckles, wiping away a stray tear. Briar is so emotionally intelligent for a 23 year old. 

They leave the café, opting to go back to Harry’s house. They grab books from his shelf and read them outside on his comfy lounge chair under the cabana, hoping the sunshine heals them both. Harry eventually dozes off, finally achieving deep sleep after a rocky 24 hours. 

Briar massages his head, twirling his curls in between her fingers. As much as she wants to comfort him, she can’t help her tendencies to meddle. 

She visits Niall’s Instagram, immediately checking his following list. She scrolls, closely examining every profile to find even a tiny breadcrumb that could lead her to Camille. Harry never said her last name, so she’ll have to pull out the big guns of internet stalking.

Nothing stands out tremendously; He doesn’t follow many people. Just a few OnlyFans models, golf companies and Barstool Sports. She spots a familiar name, Lydia…Where does she know that name from?

Briar’s thumb gives one last ditch effort scroll, when she lands on an account: @Fingermonkey

She clicks on it, and her heart immediately stops. Camille. The woman who made her boyfriend lose sight of who he was. The account is public, so she cautiously proceeds. 

She’s a striking woman; she can see why Harry fell for her. She exudes beauty and class. It’s almost palpable.

Briar shudders, unsure if she should continue. She’s on her page for selfish reasons; to see Harry’s son. Her curiosity gets the best of her. She scrolls some more, before stopping at a photo of a tiny hand. Briar bites her lip, staring back down at Harry.

“No going back,” she whispers to herself.

After another few scrolls, she finds what she’s looking for. It’s from around 5 years ago. Camille is holding a tiny boy with dark brown curls and green eyes, bright as day. They’re on the swings, bright smiles adorning their faces. 

Briar feels like she’s been sucker punched in the stomach. He’s a beautiful little boy. A boy Harry never even got the chance to love and help raise. She takes several deep breaths and scrolls back even further to 8 years prior. 

Another blow. The engagement photos.

Briar winces, zooming in. They seem to be taken in California, just as the sun is setting. Camille is holding Harry’s face as she kisses him, the ring being the main focal point. She reads the caption:

J'ai trouvé mon éternité.

I found my forever.

She clicks off Camille’s page, rolling her eyes. She clears the search history, knowing she’s been caught stalking in the past.

Briar has so many questions. 

Does she want Harry to find her? Why is Niall still following her? 

~

Briar is physically at Wynnewood, but mentally elsewhere. After her stalking session, Harry woke up feeling better, so they decided she should go home. As much as he loves her company, he always needs alone time to process things. She was happy to oblige, needing her own time to breathe.

Briar is taking inventory after her shift when she spots Niall on the practice green. A lump forms in her throat, but she knows she needs to confide in him. He smiles, waving her over. 

“Hey, Briar. I heard about the other day. I was up in the clubhouse already when everything went down. How’re you doing?” He asks, pulling her in for a hug.

“I’m good, thanks for asking. Everything was taken care of, so I just needed some time to shake it off.” 

He nods, fiddling with his putter. Niall looks around, not really sure what else to say.

“Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?”

His eyes go wide, clearing his throat, “Listen, if it’s about Lydia and I…”

Finally, it clicks. Lydia from the party. Lydia who told her she’s also dating someone from the club. Briar gasps, “I, uh, what?” 

“Fuck.”

Briar crosses her arms in front of herself, “Um, I was just going to tell you that Harry told me about Camille, and about the baby.”

“Fuuuuck,” Niall scratches the back of his head. “Can you ignore what I said before?”

Briar laughs, “For now. We can talk about that later. I just wanted to see if you had other insight. It was obviously a very emotionally charged conversation.”

“Yeah. Are you off now? Do you want to go inside for a drink?”

She nods and waits for him to clean up his stuff. They walk back to the clubhouse in silence, so Briar grabs a table outside while Niall changes in the locker room. The club is empty enough, so she’s not worried about members seeing them together.

He sits down, sighing, “I-I don’t really know how to proceed. Do you just want to tell me what he’s told you?”

“Sure,” she says quietly. Briar begins filling him in about their dinner at Ashmont and Jonathan revealing more than Harry was willing to share. Her heart races as she shares more details.

“That’s tough, darling. I know he was going to tell you eventually. The situation absolutely wrecked him. It took years to feel like I had my friend back.” 

She nods, biting her lip, staring down at her shoes. Harry bought her a pair of lavender and white New Balances; her initials stitched in the tongue. 

“You’re a very rational person, even at your age,” he smiles, leaning to put his elbows on his knees. “So, I know you’ll both work through it. But, what are your feelings?”

Briar sucks in a breath. “I’m not angry, and I want to support him, of course. But, I can’t help but have this sinking feeling in my stomach. I did some Instagram stalking.”

“You found Camille on there?”

“Yeah, through your account,” she waits for Niall to look back up at her.

He meets her eyes, “I keep a distance. I don’t speak to her or our mutual friends from study abroad. But I like to keep tabs. He’s my mate and I want to protect him.” 

Briar nods, picking the skin at her cuticles. 

“He’s a cute kid, isn’t he?” Niall smiles. 

“Yeah, he is. Harry didn’t deserve that. At all,” she says, sitting back in her seat. “Should I meddle? Or just stay out of it?”

“I would hate to see this kid get any older without meeting his father. And, if you think you’ll be,” he trails off, smiling to himself. “Sticking around for a while, I think you have the influence on him to face it head on.”

“I hope I’ll be sticking around for a while,” she smiles.

~

Briar feels slightly better after talking to Niall. She has to remember to ask Harry if he knew about Lydia. 

Briar was in need of some cathartic release. If Harry was willing to face this obstacle, she’s willing to face hers. She sits in the driver’s seat of her Jeep and scrolls her list of contacts before landing on Catherine Barlowe. 

She dials, going through several cycles before finally being answered on the final ring. 

“Hi, Bri. How are you, sweetheart?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m so good, honey. I’m so happy to hear from you. Dean and I are actually getting ready to move in a few weeks.”

“Oh? Where are you going?” Briar scrunches her eyebrows. That means her mom is selling the house she bought with her dad. The house she lived her first 9 years in before her mother’s addiction led to the 5 of them being placed with her aunt and uncle. 

“I thought your brother may have told you. We’re going to California, honey.”

“Who? I thought the last time we all saw you was at Christmas time? And why California?” 

“Jasper. He comes to see me. A lot more recently. The other boys only contact me when you do. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from Welles on his own,�� Catherine sighs. “Dean is from California. He has young daughters, so we’re moving there to be closer to them. You remember? I told you about them.”

Tears begin welling in Briar’s eyes. Her mother, now 4 years sober and remarried gets to go play house with Dean’s young children. Instead of tending to her own.

“Yeah, I remember. There’s three of them, right? But they weren’t at the wedding,” Briar says quietly, remembering the rushed ceremony that took place the week after they finished their program together. Welles was furious, Jasper and Callum didn’t say a word, and Cormac cried the entire time. Patrick couldn’t bear to go. Meredith went in support of the siblings. 

“Yes, he didn’t have custody rights at the time. But, that’s all settled now. We’re so happy, Bri.”

“I’m glad, Mom. Listen, I have to go, but I wanted to see if you’d be interested in going out to lunch soon. I’d like you to meet my boyfriend,” she rasps out.

“That sounds great, honey. Just text me the details. Talk soon.”

“Bye,” Briar chokes, throwing her phone into the passenger seat. She takes a few deep breaths to regulate her breathing. The tears continue to fall as she pulls out of the parking lot of Wynnewood. 

Her phone begins to buzz, seeing Harry’s contact photo pop up.

“Hi,” she says solemnly before placing the phone between her shoulder and ear. 

“Hi, Birdie. Are you okay?” He asks, sensing her tone.

“Yeah, yep, I’m good. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I figured you’re leaving Wynnewood. Was gonna see if you want to grab Gus and come over. I can make us dinner.”

“Um, I’m kind of tired. Think I’m just gonna go home, if that’s alright.”

“No, yeah, of course, love. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I promise. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay,” he says softly. “Bye.”

She hangs up, not even bothering to say bye. Briar knows she shouldn’t take it out on Harry, but she’s struggling to hold herself together. She hears a crack of thunder before feeling thick rain drops hit her face.

“Fuck!” 

Briar never put her Wrangler’s roof back on the other day. The droplets get more intense as she nears her apartment. Pulling into her spot, she frantically runs to her storage area to grab her roof parts. 

It’s down pouring now, but she charges forward with her parts, lining them against the car. Her biceps are burning trying to lift the piece on top of the car. Tears are starting to roll down her face, her hair beginning to stick to her neck.

Briar squeezes her eyes closed, defeated as she feels two arms wrap around her. She whips her head around, startled by her boyfriend. 

“What’s going on, love? Let me help,” Harry says, pulling her down from the step of her Jeep. She steps to the side under her apartment’s overhang, watching him effortlessly put the roof of her Jeep back together. He’s absolutely soaked, his gray sweatpants now a charcoal color. She watches the way his back muscles move under his white t-shirt. 

He fastens the parts from the inside of the car before grabbing her backpack in one hand, and her hand in the other. He guides her to her apartment while fumbling with her keys. Gus greets them at the door, unsure who to go to first. 

Harry sits Briar down on her ottoman before grabbing the fuzzy blanket from her sofa.

“What’s going on? I’m a little scared,” Harry says, his eyes full of concern. 

She takes a shaky breath before sobs take over her whole body. She folds in on herself, burrowing into the blanket.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she wails. Harry is stunned, unsure what she’s apologizing for.

“I should be supporting you and here I am getting so overwhelmed and then trying to deal with my own bullshit,” Briar cries. He places his hand gently on her back.

“Baby, I’m lost. Did something happen today?”

“I called my mom. She’s moving to California to raise her new husband’s kids,” Briar cries, snot pouring from her nose. “I should’ve fucking known. I don’t even know why I called.”

Harry can’t help but feel a little guilty. He mentioned it at their breakfast to get himself out of the hot seat. She took his bait. 

“And because I can’t stop meddling, I looked up Camille online,” she confesses. “I even talked to Niall about it all.” 

Harry freezes. He figured she would confide in Niall. But he didn’t think she’d look Camille up. He’s too afraid to ask what she found. 

Harry guides her to sit up. He grabs her cheeks with one hand and makes her face him, “Hey. Hey. I need you to breathe, Briar.”

Briar cries harder at his use of her name. She can feel herself start to hyperventilate. He wraps himself around her tight. He holds her until she stops shaking. Gus has brought them 5 of his toys to try and lighten the mood. 

“Gus, go to your bed,” Harry commands, voice deep. Briar flinches. 

She lifts her head, taking in a deep breath.

“I hurt my own feelings today. I went looking for information I shouldn’t’ve,” she admits quietly.

“I think we all do that sometimes. Which part do you want to talk about first?”

Briar loves how diplomatic Harry is. Even when they have their spats, he always makes her feel like an equal partner. She also loves when he completely dominates her in the bed right after.

“W-we can talk about my mom,” she says, assuming that’s the easier of the two. “Her husband has 3 young daughters. So, now my mom gets a do-over. Poof. Our family is just out of the picture.”

Harry sighs. His father did something similar after his parents divorced. It stung for years, and took time to mend. Now they’re very close. 

“That’s awful, Birdie. I’m so sorry. Are you going to see her before she leaves?”

She nods, wiping her nose on his chest, “Yeah, told her about you. Apparently my brother has been visiting her in secret. I’m so angry.”

He smiles lightly, “I’m happy to come along. Or not. Whichever makes you more comfortable. Don’t hold it against him. You all have to deal with things differently.”

“Thank you,” she says.

“Of course, baby. Now, do you want to tell me about the other situation?”

“Only if you want to. I crossed a line,” she starts to cry again.

She wraps her hand within his, squeezing tightly. Comfortable silence is usually never an issue for them, but the tension could be cut with a knife. 

“Well, social media is public information, baby. I could’ve done it years ago, but never did.”

“I saw him,” Briar blurts out. It was now or never.

Harry closes his eyes, feeling nauseous. He takes a deep breath through his nostrils, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s gorgeous, Harry. Really,” she sniffles. “You shouldn’t give up. She’s wrong for what she did. And I want to help you fight for this.”

He can’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. His tough girl is ready to sit in the trenches with him. To fight the biggest demon holding him back from his happiness.

“I wrote a letter years ago,” Harry starts. “Let’s send it.”

Briar gasps, sitting up to face him, “I don’t want you to feel pressured by me.”

“I’m not. I’m not sure if this is too soon, but I already know I want to keep you around for a long, long time. This will help me get over my last hurdle.”

Briar cradles his face, kissing him gently.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

They huddle together.

Briar starts to snicker, “Did you have any idea that Niall and Lydia, the server from the club, are dating?”

Harry’s head shoots up, “Huh?” 

“Okay, good. I would’ve been pissed if you hid that from me."

“How’d you find out?”

Briar laughs, “I said, ‘Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?’ And he confessed immediately.” 

Harry throws his head back laughing.

~

Harry is in his study, silently reading his letter from years ago. His tears are falling onto the paper, dotting and blurring the ink. He was 32 when he wrote this. It sounds old, but he was a kid. It was hard to keep him at home. He had access to disposable income, so he used it to its fullest.

Camille lived a simple life, finding pleasure in gardening, reading and going to cafés. Her job always came first, which kept her busy traveling around the world. Harry was restless; always chasing the next big thing, and partying until his body physically shut down. 

It didn’t help that he was a touchy person. Even though Camille had his whole heart, he shamelessly flirted with other women. He let them hang on him at bars, on yachts, and anywhere he could get attention. People in their circle talk; leaving Harry in the hot seat more than once.

He’d be naïve to blame it on Camille’s attachment style. She was generally cold, not showing him much affection. But, nonetheless he pursued her, absolutely enamored by her beauty and grace. 

He was dumb enough to suggest an open relationship one time; about 6 years into the relationship. His needs in bed became too much for Camille. She didn’t understand his need to get off and dominate her. He slept at a hotel every night that week. She gave him an out, but he couldn’t take it. 

When Camille left, he started hooking up with women more regularly. His heart hurt so bad, but he was finally getting his physical needs met. None of them lasted, until Briar. 

Over the course of 8 years, his heart slowly healed. It’s not ideal that Briar is so much younger, and an employee of his country club. There’s a strange power dynamic there. He loved how flustered she got when he looked at her; she still does sometimes, but he can feel the difference. 

They bring encourage each other’s confidence. They drive each other to be a better version of themselves. They feed each other’s deepest desires; scratching every itch that had been culminating over several years. 

Harry begins rewriting the letter; changing the tone from blinding rage, to one of neutrality. He wishes her well. He hopes she’s healed.

From what? He’s not sure. He hopes she understands his point of view, and will consider letting Harry meet his child. He’d do anything at this point. 

He seals up the letter, addressing it to Camille. Not even sure she still lives at this address, he walks it out to his mailbox anyway, lifting the red flag to signal the post man. 

He feels weight lift from his chest that had been there since the day he met Camille.

~

Briar and Harry are sitting at a nice restaurant on the water. She sips gingerly at her mojito while they wait for her mother to arrive. Briar extended the invite to her brothers, but received radio silence from them all. 

She’s anxiously bouncing her leg, to which Harry firmly grasps her thigh as he locks his jaw. She inhales sharply, closing her eyes. After the emotional turmoil they’ve experienced over the last few weeks, their sex life has toned down immensely. She misses his hand around her neck and his dirty whispers. 

“Relax. I’m right here,” Harry whispers in her ear lowly.

Briar gasps when three of her brothers appear from the restaurant’s entryway. Jasper must’ve picked up Callum and Cormac from Patrick’s.

Briar stands to hug her older brothers, while Harry pulls Cormac in for a hug.

“Where’s Welles?”

“Not sure. I haven’t heard from him,” Callum says simply. 

She rolls her eyes. He’s 28, but he is the most immature out of all of them. 

They sit, easing into a conversation with Harry. She’s grateful she can entertain them while she’s somewhere else in her head. He reaches over to lock pinkies. 

Her mother walks in, looking stunning. That’s one thing that Briar has always been jealous of. It’s why her addiction flew under the radar for so long. She was always put together and exuding happiness. But in secret, she was struggling. 

Her strawberry blonde hair is longer than when she saw her last, loose waves falling over her shoulders. She’s in a floor length floral gown, a sweater over her shoulders to fight the chill of the restaurant. 

She spots them after speaking with the hostess, her smile lighting up the room. 

“Hi, my babies!”

Jasper stands to greet her, while her other brothers hold in a groan. She walks around the circular table to press a kiss to Briar’s head, before turning her attention to Harry.

“And who’s this? Don’t think I popped him out,” she laughs, waiting for Harry to stand up.

“Mom, seriously?” Briar grimaces. 

“Hi, I’m Harry. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Harry says smiling, pulling out the chair for her. 

“Pleasure is all mine, Harry. I’m Catherine. Isn’t my daughter incredible?”

Harry smiles, nodding. He can sense Briar’s discomfort. He assumes this praise is just for show. 

Her mother brings up every topic under the sun, effectively avoiding topics regarding Briar’s father, the move, and her new husband.

They eat, letting Cormac talk about school, Callum talk about grad school and his new girlfriend, and Jasper about his new job. Briar realizes she’s done a shit job at talking to her brothers lately. She doesn’t know any of this.

“Where’s Wellie, Briar? Didn’t you invite him?”

“I did. Didn’t hear from him.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to follow up with him,” Catherine snipes. “It’s not everyday I get to see all five of you.”

“Really? How about you? When was the last time you talked to him?” Briar crosses her arms at her mother.

“It doesn’t matter. This is family time,” Catherine raises her eyebrows, waiting for Briar to snap.

“You know all about that, don’t you mom? Just counting down the minutes until you can go play house with Dean’s kids in California.”

Callum and Cormac look between the two women, stunned. Jasper’s eyes widen.

“California?” Callum questions. “Mom, what is she talking about?”

Catherine looks around, “I thought Jasper would’ve filled you all in. I’m moving to California with Dean to be closer to his kids. They’re younger.”

Jasper looks down, pushing the vegetables around on his plate. Callum shakes his head, throwing his napkin on the table before storming off. Cormac starts to cry, to which Harry puts a hand on his back. 

“Mom, how can you leave?” Cormac asks, his lip quivering. 

“Baby, you’re all adults. You don’t need me anymore.”

“I’m only 17, Mom,” Cormac chokes. 

Briar has tears streaking down her face. Briar hasn’t needed her mother since she was 12 years old, hoping and praying for her to come back. Cormac barely knew her; only fantasizing what their relationship could’ve been. 

Harry pays the bill before suggesting Catherine leaves. She nods, standing to grab her purse. She silently looks each of her children in the eye before walking out of the restaurant. 

“I’m sorry, Bri. I thought she changed,” Jasper says solemnly. 

“It’s okay. You deserve to handle your relationship with her however you want.”

Harry and Briar walk out hand in hand after spending 20 minutes consoling her brothers. 

They climb into Harry’s car, silently staring ahead. Harry grabs her hand again.

“That was rough, pup. I’m sorry,” Harry says softly.

“Can we just go home? I miss you, Daddy.”

Harry clears his throat as his cock twitches.

“You have me, Birdie. Let’s go home.”

~

“Be rough with me,” Briar pleads from the bed. “I want it so bad.”

Harry chuckles as he pulls his belt from the loops on his pants. She’s completely bare, her wrists fastened to each corner of the bed. He opts to leave her feet out of the restraints, hoping he can toss her around a bit. 

“Daddy’s been taking it easy on his Birdie for the last couple weeks,” Harry says, trailing his knuckle along her rib cage. She keens, shivering from the light touch. “But don’t think I forgot about your stunt at Ashmont.”

Briar freezes, remembering their escapades. She taunted him, removing her panties in the stall, waiting for him to come after her. It’s a shame the night turned into a disaster soon after. She whines, not sure what else to do.

“Hm? Remember that, Birdie? Words,” he stares straight into her eyes.

“Yes, Daddy. I was naughty,” she bites her lip. 

He doesn’t like that. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into her mouth, choking her a little. “Leave that lip alone. I bite that.”

She purrs around his digits, goosebumps rising on her skin. He removes them from her mouth before sticking them at her core. He barely grazes her folds, seeing how she’ll react. She jerks around, slightly moving her pelvis to meet his hand. 

“Ah, ah. No. You’ll be taken care of how I decide.” 

She nods, swallowing thickly. She’s eating up everything he throws at her.

“Think I’m gonna take my time tonight,” Harry let’s out an exaggerated sigh. Briar whines, pushing her face into her shoulder. “Mm-mm. None of that.” 

Harry pushes Briar’s legs in the air, holding her ankles together, so the lips of her vagina are peaking out between her thighs. He growls at the sight.

“This little pussy is so used to getting what she wants. What does she want tonight, Birdie?”

“Your mouth, Daddy! Please!” Briar balls her fists, wiggling slightly.

Harry spits, watching the liquid drip down her thighs and cunt, “Nah, I’m good.”

Briar’s jaw locks in frustration. She watches as he walks to his closet grabbing her plug and vibrator. He generously applies lube to the plug, gently circling her ass. Briar closes her eyes, laying her head back. 

He gently pushes the plug in past the tight muscle, moving it in and out a little. 

“Oh my godddd,” Briar exhales. Her chest is rising and dropping fast. 

“I think tonight’s the night, baby.”

Briar whines, half out of horniness and the other out of nervousness. He flicks the vibrator on, pressing it firmly on her clit. She throws her head to the side. 

“Look at me. Don’t look over there,” Harry threatens, increasing the speed. 

She wills her eyes open, staring into his, her mouth opening slightly. The tension is building in her pelvis. She’s sure to come once he starts circling the vibrator on her clit; his signature move. Within seconds of him doing that, she’s crumbling. 

Harry shuts off the vibrator and adjusts her leg position so her legs are open wide, one resting on his shoulder.

“Wanna see your pretty face when I fuck your ass,” He says, peppering kisses on her face and neck.

“Please,” Briar whispers. 

Harry reaches between them and pulls the plug out and tosses it on the floor. He’ll clean it later. He extends his hand to rest in front of her face. 

“Spit.”

She spits on his fingertips, a line of spit connecting them to her lips. He lowers his hand to lightly touch her hole before inserting his middle finger. Briar groans, pulling on her restraints. He quickly inserts another, rocking them in and out of her gently. 

Harry’s cock is neglected, standing tall and proud, nearly touching the tip to his torso. Briar begins to panic, unsure if his girth will fit in there.

“Relax, baby. I got you. Do you remember your word?” He says, petting her cheek.

“Bogey,” she says softly. 

“Good girl,” he kisses her again. Harry has never withheld kisses, even in her worst punishments. “One more and then we’ll go for it, okay?”

“Mhm,” she nods, a single tear escaping her eye. She trusts her boyfriend with her entire being, but her heart rate is skyrocketing. 

The third digit enters her, eliciting a whine. Harry flexes his fingers, giving her a delicious stretch. A thick layer of sweat has formed behind her knees and on her forehead. 

Harry kisses her forehead, licking the saltiness from his lips, “All good, Birdie. Doing so well for me.”

After a few more minutes of stretching her out, Harry pulls his fingers out and lowers himself to be eye level with her ass. He licks a long stripe over the now open hole. Briar shivers, pulling on the restraints.

Harry rises from his spot on the bed to pull his underwear all the way off, his cock bobbing as he moves. He grips his length firmly, giving himself a few generous pumps. He kneels over her, undoing her right hand’s restraint. She looks at him curiously, but understands when he entwines their hands. 

He uses his right hand to line himself up at her delicate center. Briar sucks in a breath in anticipation. Harry presses the bulbous head of his dick in, groaning as he moves. His pace is painstaking, taking in every facial expression from the angel below him. 

“Such a good girl. Letting Daddy be the only one to fuck this little hole,” he pants, nostrils flaring. His forehead is starting to drip with sweat.

“Only you,” she whines as he pushes in little by little.

“Let me know if you need me to stop and take a break, lovie.”

She furiously shakes her head, still holding in a breath. Harry is finally working his way up to full thrusts.

“Breathe with me,” Harry pleads. “1,2,3, exhale.”

Briar feels high. That breath sent her senses all the way to her pussy.

“Daddy,” Briar breathes heavily. 

“What do you need, baby?”

“Fingers. I-In my pussy,” she cries. “Please.” 

“Okay, baby. I know y’empty in there,” he smiles down at her lovingly as he untangles their fingers so he can stick them inside. “So wet f’me.”

The sensations are too much once he starts petting her g-spot with his fingers.

“Coming, Daddy,” she babbles.

“Go ahead, Birdie. So fucking proud of you.”

She squeezes her eyes closed, letting out a cry of relief as she hits her wall. 

Harry chuckles at her babbling. She is fucked out to high heaven. He wants one more out of her before he comes. He alternates thrusting into her ass and fingering her pussy. He releases her other hand from the restraint. She’s too distracted, so her hand remains in the same spot.

“Rub your little clit, baby. One more f’me.”

“Ugggghnnnn,” Briar whines, drool coming out of her mouth. She circles her clit three more times before she’s clenching hard on his fingers and cock.

The squeeze of her ass pushes Harry into his own orgasm, a ringing forming in his ear. He gives two last lazy thrusts, emptying himself into her. He closes his eyes and hangs his head low before slowly pulling out.

Briar squawks, so he shushes her gently. Harry could come again at the sight in front of him. His come is leaking out of her ass hole, dripping onto the sheets below. He picks some up with his finger, smearing it on her pussy. She mewls, her head lolling to the side. 

“So fucking good for me. Gorgeous, baby.”

Harry takes a mental image before hustling to the bathroom. He starts the bath, making sure to throw some epsom salt and lavender oil in there. He wets a towel with warm water for Briar, and throws two towels into his towel warmer. 

He reenters the bedroom to find his girl curled up, her back to him. He runs his knuckles down her protruding spine. Harry gently dabs the towel along her labias and ass to clean up.

“Birdie, I ran us a bath. Gonna lift you,” Harry coos. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks up at him with moony eyes.

Harry lifts her from her armpits and knees, and swiftly carries her to the tub. Her eyes are shut, but she rests her head on his chest. He’s become a pro at maneuvering themselves into the tub.

Harry positions Briar at the front of the tub, before finding his seat at the back. He leans forward to pull her body to his chest. Harry closes his eyes and rolls his neck along the edge of the porcelain tub, listening to their uneven breaths.

He plays with Briar’s hair; twirling the long pieces between his fingers. She hasn’t said a word, but he knows she’s elsewhere right now. He moves his fingertips to her scalp, gently scratching around the nape of her neck, hoping she’ll come back to him soon.

“Mmmmm,” Briar hums, smiling to herself.

Harry smiles, increasing the pressure and speed like he’s petting Gus.

“Stop,” Briar whines, her hair now in her face.

“Sorry, Birdie. How do you feel?” 

“Good. Sleepy,” Briar yawns.

“Hungry? I can order us something,” Harry taps her sides.

“Can we have Caesar salads and Diet Cokes?” She cranes her neck to look back at him.

Harry laughs, “Sure, baby.”

“And french fries.”

“You got it,” Harry leans down and kisses her.

~

Briar is staying at Harry’s while he’s in the city for a few in-person meetings. It’s been nice; she does yoga outside in the mornings, takes Gus for walks around the picturesque neighborhood, and cooks using his expensive appliances.

🦊: Hi, Birdie.

🐥: Hi Daddy

🦊: Miss me yet? 

🐥: I like being able to lay sideways in your bed

🦊: You can do that when I’m there.

🐥: You’re too hard

🦊: How’d you know? Send me a picture.

🐥: It’s 10AM. Pay attention to your meeting

🦊: I’m not asking. 

Though Harry isn’t home, Briar still walks around his house scantily clad. An idea to terrorize her boyfriend pops into her head. Bolting up the stairs, Briar grabs her plug from Harry’s special area in his closet. She smirks to herself, feeling the cool metal in her hand. She walks outside, peering over Maureen’s fence to ensure no one will witness what she’s about to do.

She gathers spit in her mouth before lubricating the plug. She places one foot on the lounge chair for leverage, before nudging the plug past her entrance. Waddling around, she moves two lounge chairs to face one another. Propping her phone up on one, she shuffles to the other to get into position. She removes her sleep tank top and silk shorts, staring up into the sky to get some sun on her face.

She kneels, making sure to pop her ass out more. The phone is set to video so she can take screen shots of the poses she likes best. Or just send the whole damn video to him.

She makes sure to twist her body to fake some curves, looking over her shoulder and touching her hair. She fiddles with the plug, making her whine. 

Yup, she’s sending the video.

After a few minutes, she gets up from the lounge chair, being sure to flash the camera. She grabs the phone, scanning it over her body before blowing a kiss.

Delivered

Looking around again, she quickly throws her clothes back on, opting to leave the plug in for the day. Gus joins her outside, laying on the chair opposite hers. She has an urge to shut her phone off completely, just to push Harry’s buttons a little more.

Her quiet morning is interrupted by her ringtone blaring. She picks up without saying anything.

“Do you think you’re funny?”

“Who is this?” Briar is holding back laughter.

“I am in a meeting, little girl. You sent that video when all I told you to send was a photo.”

“So are you jerking yourself in the bathroom?”

“What a fucking mouth on you, huh? And yeah, your little video is causing a problem,” Harry grits.

Briar whines, “Don’t you wish it was my little hand, Daddy? Or my mouth?”

Harry slams his fist against the bathroom stall. His neck vein is protruding as he growls.

Briar is full on smiling to herself. She’s not particularly horny right now, but she’s happy to aid Harry with his issue. She can hear his panting increase before a clattering of the phone. 

“Harry?”

“Fuck, I dropped my phone,” he laughs incredulously.

“Oh my, well, maybe I should let you go,” Briar trails off.

“No, baby. Almost done. Just tell Daddy how much you love,” he groans. “Love him.”

“I love you, Daddy. So much. Come for me,” Briar says, leaning into her chair.

Harry releases into the toilet with a strangled moan. He prays to God the conference room walls are thick. He grabs a wad of toilet paper to wipe down his misfires before flushing.

“Thanks, Birdie. You’re in so much trouble when I’m home. Love you.”

“Okay, bye.”

She hangs up, shaking her head. She looks over her shoulder to see Maureen standing at the fence, watering her plants. Briar gives her a tight smile and wave, to which Maureen grimaces in response.

Briar lounges for a few hours before feeling intense boredom. She cleans a little bit, making sure to dust Harry’s various trinkets from his travels. She lightly wipes a ceramic elephant he got in Thailand, a Russian nesting doll from his time in St. Petersburg, and a clay shark from South Africa. While Harry has been all over the globe, the two share a desire to one day back back in South America. She hopes a llama trinket will one day sit on this shelf. 

It’s been a few weeks since the lunch with Briar’s mom and since Harry sent the letter to Camille. While she’s happy Harry is attempting to get to know his son, Briar can’t help but feel extreme anxiety. Why hasn’t Camille responded? 

The shrill sound of the doorbell and Gus’s subsequent bark breaks Briar’s train of thought. She can see a figure through the frosted glass of Harry’s front door, lingering at the table of snacks designated for delivery drivers. 

Briar can see the UPS logo on the man’s shirt, so she lets him pick his goodies before opening the door. She waved to him as he drives away, looking down at the package at her feet. She wonders if Harry sent her something for when he returns. 

Bending over, she’s surprised at the package’s weight. If it were new lingerie, it’d be light. She bends at the knees, inhaling when she lifts the package. Shooing Gus away, she manages to get the package to Harry’s long kitchen table. 

She’s wracking her brain what it could be. The entire package is wrapped in brown paper. She flips it over to see the label. Harry’s name written in cursive letters using a Sharpie. Her eyes are drawn to the left hand side; the sender.

C. Rowe 4 Rue Dupetit-Thouars Paris, France 75003

A lump forms in Briar’s throat. It’s been a few hours since she talked to Harry this morning. Her fingers start to dial his number.

“If you’re calling for a follow-up to this morning, I have to let you know that Niall is right next to me.”

She hears Niall groan in the background. When she doesn’t laugh or respond, Harry tries again. “Birdie?”

“Hi, I-I wanted to tell you that a package came f-for you,” Briar chokes out. 

Harry scrunches his eyebrows, “Okay, just leave it with the others. Anything else?”

He wants to be sweet with her, but she knows not to call about random things while he’s in meetings.

“I-it’s from Camille.”

Silence. Briar closes her eyes. 

Harry sighs, “I see. Okay, thanks for letting me know, pup. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. Are you going to be okay until then?”

“Y-yes, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous.” 

“It’s okay. This whole thing is a little odd. Just try to take your mind off it. Throw it in my office if you don’t feel like seeing it.” 

“Okay, I will. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Harry sighs. Niall looks over at him empathetically. 

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re dating one of the servers?”

Niall’s eyes go wide before rubbing his temples, “She told you?”

“What? Why wouldn’t she? She’s my girlfriend.” 

“We’re not dating. We hooked up once...twice.”

“Mhm,” Harry laughs. “Better nip that in the bud, then.”

Niall groans again just as their next meeting begins.

~

The anticipation is killing Briar. Harry is due home any minute, so she’s pacing between his kitchen and living room. Sitting on the sofa, sitting on the stool, sitting on the chair, standing by the window. She can’t keep still.

She joins Gus in his outburst of barking and running from window to window when they hear Harry’s car pull into the garage. She pokes her head into the garage to see Harry unloading his bags from the back.

She walks over to him, pressing her hands into his chest. 

“Hi, Birdie. Missed you,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to her mouth.

“Welcome home,” she smiles back at him.

She grabs the wheeled suitcase, lifting it over the threshold of the door. 

“Let me change and we can open it,” Harry says simply. Briar’s stomach drops.

“Okay.”

Briar corrals Gus to the sofa, the two of them perching in the corner seat. Harry changed into colorful sweatpants and a t-shirt that says ‘vote vote vote’. He grabbed the package from his office on his way back into the main living room. 

He places the package on the coffee table. The two of them stare at it silently. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to do this alone?”

“Mm, no, it’s okay. If there’s a letter, then I’ll read that on my own.”

Briar nods, waiting for him to open the box.

Harry peels the brown paper from the edges, tearing straight through his and Camille’s names.

He removes the paper in its entirety, examining the oversized shoe box before pulling the lid off. He places it off to the side while peering at the contents. From first glance, it looks like junk. 

He scrunches his eyebrows when he spots one of his old shirts. Did Camille really use this as an opportunity to send his shit back?

He moves the shirt to reveal a few envelopes, a baby rattle, a small pair of vans, a stuffed dog, and drawings. 

Harry opens one of the envelopes to find a stack of Polaroid pictures. He can feel his eyes start to sting. They’re in chronological order, showing his son grow from a tiny baby to an excited 7 year old. Briar has her head on his shoulder, silently viewing the photos. The birth photo has words scribbled in Sharpie at the bottom.

Oliver Styles Rowe  18-11-2016 3.3kgs | 53 cm

Harry is crying now. Briar rubs his back, trying to encourage him to keep going. 

He flips through the photo, feeling vomit bubble up his throat. This kid looks like a lot of fun. Fun that’s killing him to not have been a part of. Camille keeps him well travelled; there are photos from Tokyo, Australia and Mexico. 

Unlike most babies, Harry’s had his signature curls from the start. Briar gasps at the photos as they get closer to present day. Oliver is Harry’s twin. 

Oliver receives great marks in school; he’s pictured with several certificates and trophies. He even seems to be a footballer. 

Harry puts the stack on the coffee table, turning to face Briar. 

“Wow,” Harry says, wiping a tear from his eye.

“What’re you thinking?” 

“Just heartbroken all over again.” 

~

Harry went into his office to read the letter. He stops at his bar cart to pour himself some tequila.

It’s short, but gives Harry some closure. Over the last 8 years, Camille embraced motherhood by focusing less on work. She meditates, volunteers regularly, and is extremely involved at school activities.

She and Theo, their mutual friend from study abroad, have been together since she moved back. That sends a pang to Harry’s heart. They got married about 5 years ago, and have a little girl named Amélie. She only talks a little about Oliver, saying how much he reminds her of Harry. 

Camille apologizes, which Harry didn’t expect. She recognizes cutting him off from his son was wrong. She also left her contact information, followed by the last line. 

He would love to meet you. I think it’s time. 

C

Tears are fully falling on Harry’s cheeks as the heaviness of the last 8 years hits him. His son has Styles in his name. He smiles to himself, feeling the butterflies in his stomach. 

He shoves the letter in his desk drawer before wiping his eyes. He joins Briar and Gus back in the living room cozied up by the fire.

____________________________________________________________________

OHM YGOD. SOMEONE PLZ TALK TO ME AB BIRDIE AND HARRY I AM LIVINGGGGG

Taglist:

@daphnesutton​ @pandeebearstyles​ @anxiouswaterss​ @gem1712 @stylesfever​ @awesomenavy​ @crazygirlinthisworld​ @butdaddyilovehim-hs​ @luxiorchive​ @alchemxx @narry-heart 

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The One That Got Away - Chapter Four

Warning: tw: child abuse, tw: verbal abuse, tw: physical abuse, mentions of therapy.

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

A/N: There are TRIGGER WARNINGS in this part - please heed these, and if you think you’ll be affected by any of them, please do not read.

You can catch up here!

 My Masterli st AO3    Ko-Fi

“Hey, kiddo! Did you just come off shift?” Jody greeted her brightly.

“No, I came off an extended double at two o’clock this morning, and I’m back in tonight at seven. Is Uncle Bobby home?” Y/N asked.

“Not yet, sweetie. He took his crew for breakfast. Why? Is everything okay?” The concern she heard in Jody’s tone made her smile.

“Yeah, everything’s good, it’s just… are you still looking for a new tenant for the apartment? ‘Cause I got myself a job at Lawrence Memorial and need to find somewhere to live!” Y/N grinned.

“You did not!” Jody’s excitement made her buzz.

“Emergency Nurse Practitioner, Y/N Singer at your service!” she laughed at Jody’s gleeful screech.

“Bobby’s gonna be so happy! He might even crack a smile!” Jody joked.

“Hold up now. Let’s not get crazy!” Y/N replied, and both women cackled with laughter.

“When do you start?” Jody asked once their joy settled.

“The beginning of next month. I’ll work for three more weeks, hammer the overtime, and get extra money for moving costs and furniture. I’ll spend the last week packing and shipping. I’ll probably move out there the Thursday before I start. That gives me the weekend to unpack and settle,” Y/N said.

“How are you feeling about coming home, kiddo?” 

“Uhm, okay, I guess? It’s time. Uncle Bobby was right about that, but don’t tell him I said that!” Y/N giggled.

“I’d never dream of it!” Jody chuckled.

“It’ll be strange, don’t get me wrong, but it is time. I need to stop hiding. I need to finally deal with my shit, you know? My father and…”

“Dean?” Jody pushed gently at Y/N’s sudden silence.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Bobby doesn’t talk to me about him. I know he’s not married, but he might be with someone. There’s still so much there for me, and I think… I know I need to talk it out. Move forward, whatever that looks like.”

“He’s single. He’s had as much luck on the dating front as you have. He doesn’t have a friend like you do, though. He’s more of a one-night-only kinda guy,” Jody chuckled.

“Ha! Been there, done that!” Y/N scoffed a laugh.

“I did not need to know that!” The grin she could hear in Jody’s voice told her she was teasing, and both women laughed heartily.

“Seriously, kiddo, I think reaching out to Dean is a great idea. I’m sure you both have a lot to discuss. You both need to move on, one way or another.” Jody said gently.

“Yeah, I know. It’s easier said than done, though,” Y/N sighed.

“Everything worth having, doing or saying always is, Y/N.”

“When did you become so wise?” Y/N sniggered.

“Hey! Watch it, or you’ll be sleeping in your car when you get back!” Jody jokingly scolded, and Y/N laughed again.

“Alright, kiddo, I gotta get ready for my shift. Bobby and I will have the apartment cleaned and freshened up for you. Let me know when you start shipping stuff, and you can send it to us first. We’ll get it there for you.”

“Thanks, Jody. I’ll call Bobby later after he’s had some time to sleep, but if you see him before you head out…”

“I’ll tell him his princess is coming home,” Jody said excitedly, and she was starting to wonder who was more excited about her coming home.

“Thanks. I love you, Jody.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

Y/N ended the call and fell back onto the mattress with a relieved sigh. She knew she’d be welcomed back to Lawrence with open arms, at least by Uncle Bobby and Jody. Still, she’d been gone far too long, and there was this tiny nagging doubt in her mind that said no one wanted her back after the chaos she’d caused by leaving in the first place.

Jody had become so much more than an aunt to Y/N when she and Bobby started dating. She was her best friend and confidante but never slid into the ‘mom’ role. That was, and would always be, Mary Winchester. 

As part of her therapy, Y/N had written five letters. One to herself, three to the people she cared for most in the world, and one to her father. She’d sent three of those letters. Okay, technically, she’d sent two. She felt the people hurt most by her departure needed an explanation: Mary and Uncle Bobby.

Dean knew everything she’d been through - it was why she understood him not asking her to stay - but Mary and Uncle Bobby didn’t. Y/N made Dean promise not to tell anyone, and Dean was a man of his word. She knew everyone knew something was going on at home; the bruises and flinching at loud noises needed no explanation, but she never admitted to it to anyone but Dean.

The blame she had for her mother’s death, the wish it’d been her instead, Dean was the only one who knew all of it. He was also the only person who knew the vile words, insults, and almost daily degradation she’d been through. Only she, Dean, and her therapist knew about every time he struck her and every harsh word he’d voiced at her.

So, it was with incredible strength that Y/N wrote it down in a letter. She relived everything her father had subjected her to and apologised to Mary for breaking her son’s heart. She’d put Dean’s letter beside Mary’s with instructions to give it to him “at the right time.” However, Y/N also knew there was a chance Mary would never give him the letter, so she’d reluctantly added, “if you think it’s in his best interests,” at the end.

She still didn’t know if Dean had read her letter, but Mary replied, telling her she had forgiven her and loved her. She’d always love her and was sorry for everything her father had put her through. Y/N had expected it but was still shocked by the anger Mary had expressed towards her for not speaking up when she and John would’ve done everything in their power to protect her and get her out of her father’s house, but Y/N knew it ultimately wouldn’t have made a difference.

“Dean?” Bobby said at the end of the shift. “Can I have a minute?”

“Sure, Chief. What’s up?” Dean asked as he walked into Bobby’s office.

“Close the door and take a seat,” Bobby said as he pushed aside the paperwork from last night’s fire.

“I’m sure you remember I spoke to Y/N and asked her to think about coming home,” Bobby said gently.

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean swallowed nervously. She wasn’t coming. He could feel it.

“A few weeks ago, she came here-” Bobby started, raising his hands in a ‘hold on, let me finish’ gesture at the anger and hurt that settled on Dean’s face.

“I didn’t know she was here. She flew in and out the same day because she had an interview at Memorial. She didn’t tell us because she had to be back in Chicago to work a night shift,” Bobby smiled softly as Dean’s body and face relaxed, and he slumped back in his chair.

“How’d she do?” Dean asked, his voice shaky.

“She starts on Monday,” Bobby grinned as Dean smiled. “She’s moving into Jody’s apartment over the weekend.”

“Does she, uh,” Dean started and cleared his throat before he tried again. “Is there anyone coming with her? You know, boyfriend, kid, dog?” he chuckled, trying to act nonchalant, but Bobby saw right through him.

“No,” he smiled at the younger man. “She’s dated, but nothing ever stuck. According to Jody, she was the love ‘em and leave ‘em type until she made an arrangement with a friend,” Bobby shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Dean couldn’t stop the smirk crossing his face at seeing his mentor squirm. 

“No doubt she broke a lot of hearts!” Dean chuckled, and Bobby smiled wistfully.

“I’m sure she did. Now go on, get outta here! Enjoy your long weekend fishing at the cabin. I’ll see you next week.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean said as he stood.

“For what?” Bobby raised his eyebrow in confusion.

“Telling me about Y/N/N.”

“Promised I would, didn’t I? Besides, can’t have you running into her with one of your love ‘em and leave ‘ems on your arm now, can we?” he winked. “Go on now, get!”

“Hey, are you okay, babe?” Sam asked, flustered as he ran into his parents’ house.

“I’m fine, Sam!” Jess smiled as she rolled her eyes playfully at his concern.

“Are you sure? Did you get checked out properly?” he asked, eyes scanning every inch of her to ensure no sign of illness or injury.

“Sam, babe,” Jess said as calmly as she could, smiling a greeting at John when he entered the kitchen. “I’m fine. I felt a little faint at work, and the new nurse, who is so lovely and not a bitter old bitch like the last one, took me into a room and checked me over. She took a blood sample and gave me a scan just to be sure. It was a little low blood sugar, and she made me sit on the bed until we’d eaten chocolate and drank a soda. I promise I’m much better now. Rowena sent me home for the rest of the day to take it easy. I’m under strict orders to eat at least one more chocolate bar or a slice of cake, put my feet up, and get some rest.”

“You’re sure?” Sam checked again.

“Oh my God, Sam!” she laughed. “Yes! I promise! I’m taking Y/N’s advice and being waited on by an anxious grandmother-to-be for a few hours while I take it easy!”

“Y/N?” Mary asked, placing a generous slab of lemon drizzle cake before Jess and Sam. “It wouldn’t happen to be Y/N Y/L/N by any chance, would it?” Mary finished with a little chuckle as if it was nothing, but it came out more like a plea.

“No,” Jess mumbled around a mouthful of cake. “Y/N Singer. But when she heard my name was Winchester, she asked if I was any relation to you guys. She said she went to school with Dean. Maybe she got married?” she said, putting more cake in her mouth.

“What?” Jess asked at the sudden silence in the room.

“Maybe she took her mama’s name when she left,” John voiced what had been on everyone’s mind.

“Do you think Dean knows?” Sam questioned, and Jess looked downright confused.

“Dean knows what?” Dean asked, returning from the bathroom and leaning against the kitchen doorframe.

Next Chapter >>

Tag list: @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @leigh70 @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @candy-coated-misery0731 @iprobablyshipit91 @twinkleinadiamondsky @mrsjenniferwinchester @spnwoman @snackles87 @perpetualabsurdity @hoboal87 @synmorite @nancymcl @trannydean @nic-kolas @jc-winchester @winchestergirl1720 @globetrotter28 @nelachu2423 @kayleighmeister @venicesem @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @suckitands33 @tristanrosspada-ackles @silentbutscreaming @lacilou @kazsrm67 @sandlee44 @kmc1989 @chriszgirl92 @ashbatz @k-slla @waters-2567

[sirianasims]

We had decided to just let things happen naturally after the wedding, and it didn’t take long until I was pregnant.

We were both overjoyed, and our roommates were excited for us. Griffin immediately started changing our weekly meal plans around the nutritional requirements of pregnant women.

I asked if he was sure he still wanted to be a surgeon and not become a nutritionist instead, but he laughed it off.

“Freya, don’t be silly. You can do more than one thing with your life! Just look at Daria. Would you tell her to choose whether she wants to only do programming or podcasting or animal rights activism?”

“You know I’d never dare tell Daria what to do, but I honestly don’t understand how she finds the time.”

“Exactly, priorities!” Griffin looked at me like he’d just won the discussion and went back to his meal planning.

I thought about it. Sports had always taken up most of my time, and the rest I spent with friends and family. I didn’t really have any other interests, unless you counted reading a book or watching a movie. Griffin had his cooking, Daria seemed to be doing all the things, and even Jessica had a fashion blog.

At least Samuel was more like me, we both tended to focus on our careers and family. He wanted to specialise in paediatrics, he really loved working with children.

He was so excited about becoming a father. He kept flipping between ‘doctor mode’, spewing random facts about child development and asking me how I was feeling, and ‘dad mode’ where he obsessed about names and insisted on talking to my belly in silly voices.

It was pretty adorable. I couldn’t wait for us to finally meet our baby. We were going to be the best parents ever, together.

Nothing like my own parents.

I wasn’t even three years old when they split up. My father then proceeded to spend almost five years drinking and whoring his way through a pretty miserable existence.

Still, most of my memories of him back then were good. Even though he was troubled, he was always so happy to see me, and he always came to my games or picked me up from practice.

I remembered our trip to Mt. Komorebi vividly. The snowboarding had been amazing, and I loved spending time with my dad.

But then I had woken up from a nightmare in the big, dark, and unfamiliar house. I had felt very alone.

I was used to living by the harbour with my mother, used to the constant noise outside.

Here, the thick snow blanketed everything and it was eerily quiet.

I couldn’t remember how to turn on the lights, so I stumbled into the dark hallway, blinded by tears, only vaguely certain of where my dad’s bedroom was.

He wasn’t there.

It wasn’t the first time in my life that I’d gone to his bedroom to find it empty, but at home, it just meant that he was downstairs watching TV, or had fallen asleep on the couch with Cooper snuggled up next to him. Here, there was no sound of a TV or any light anywhere. The house felt completely deserted.

I knew I wasn’t really alone, my grandparents were in their bedroom somewhere downstairs, but I was afraid to go down there. I didn’t even want to go back into the dark hall.

I curled up on the big, empty bed. Surely, my dad would come. He had to sleep sooner or later.

I don’t remember crying myself to sleep, but I remember waking up.

My dad had been there, moisture still in his hair, fresh from a shower. With the smell of toothpaste and only the faintest hint of alcohol left on his breath.

I always hated that particular combination of smells.

He’d promised never to leave me again, and he hadn’t. Much later, I learned that he had started therapy as soon as we got home, and as far as I knew, he hadn’t touched alcohol for over fifteen years now. But I still remembered the smell.

I put my hands protectively on my growing belly.

“I’m going to do a better job than they did, no matter what it takes”, I whispered.

beginning / previous / next

[marrowfrog00]

Less Perfect [s.h.]

summary: Fem reader has it out with her imperfect, adulterous cad of a man Steve Harrington - but there is always more than meets the eye, no?

cw: 18+ mdni; implied/allusions to smut but no actual smut takes place, discussions of cheating, angst, toxic partner dynamics, arguing, name-calling, mentions of shitty parents, trauma, role-play, aftercare, anxiety, jealousy, hurt/comfort, use of perjorative "skank", use of petnames (sarcastic & sincere), home-grown therapy, kinda, very dialogue heavy, kitchen sink drama, fluff disguised as angst, really it's so fuckin' soft, lmk if I missed anything

wc: 2.7k

A/N: I honestly don't know what this is, my brain just burped her out and she's weird as shit. Please be nice, she's just a baby (and I'm just a three-legged orange cat with an internet connection). Reiterating that this is very dialogue heavy so if that's not your thing, carry on your merry way.

The metal tips of your stilettos clacked against the lacquered floors of the hallway as you speed walked, passing expensive wall-to-wall oil paintings and accent tables topped with vases full of immaculate flowers.

Alabaster sprays of hydrangeas (white, always white, so as not to clash with the surroundings) and dahlias mocked you from crystal vases as you stomped angrily toward the main bedroom, Steve hot on your tail.

"Don't walk away from me, pumpkin," he spat from behind you.

You guffawed as you stormed into the bedroom, making to slam the heavy mahogany door in his face. Steve was quick, though. An ex-athlete, afterall. He stopped the door with his hand and sneered, yes, sneered at you.

"Piss off, darling," you barked, turning your back to him.

You clopped heavily to the vanity and removed your earrings, chucking them carelessly onto the table. You opened the drawer and pawed through the contents looking for makeup wipes, plonking down onto the plush upholstered stool.

Steve glared at you and you could swear you heard his teeth grinding from where you sat. Commit, commit. Where the hell were those fucking wipes?

"You're goddamn unbelievable, you know that?"

"Me?" you shot back , voice laced with disbelief.

Steve cocked his hip and put his hand there. "Yeah, you. Ya see anyone else in this room?" he asked, gesturing around the swank sleeping quarters. Impeccable color story, not a speck of dust to be found in the place.

You stood from the stool, slowly, like a big cat ready to strike down her prey. Your gaze was mean and piercing as you stalked forward on high-heeled feet. You watched Steve take half a step back, mentally high-fiving yourself. This was good, this was forward motion.

Your voice dripped with rancorous sarcasm when you replied, "Well, gee, I dunno, darling. You could have been speaking to whichever one of your office skanks has your dick mesmerized this week."

Steve dropped his hand to his side, straightening his spine.

You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes to the ceiling, pretending to conjure a name. "Dana? Diane? Kimberly? Kathy?"

"Come off it," Steve gritted out, fists balling at his sides. His eyes, those gorgeous, unreal russet eyes that had captured your heart once upon a time narrowed on you. "You can act like a crazy bitch in public or in my fucking house. Pick one."

You couldn't help but laugh at him, shaking your head incredulously.

"You're not even going to deny it this time?" you asked, crossing your arms. "You used to give me the false courtesy of sparing my feelings, but I guess I've run out of favors from you."

You watched Steve's shoulders locked up as his face twitched ever so slightly. His eyes glazed over a little, like he'd gone somewhere else. Shit. Reset.

You swallowed harshly and busied yourself, smoothing the front of your dress as you kept one eye on his face, waiting.

Steve shook his head quickly like he was shaking off his very thoughts as he swaggered closer to you, invading your space and looking down his nose. Down at your face. Your pretty, soft face.

He remembered the first time he ever got a look at you up close, your eyes looked sparkly and he'd had the insane urge to bite your cheek. Right now, your eyes were dull with uncertainty and your biteable cheeks were slack under your frown.

He felt his heart kick up as he choked out his next words. "You wanna talk about favors, huh?" He cleared his throat, willing his voice to come out thicker, with more bravado. "Let's talk about how you like to act like everything you do for me is a favor. How every fuck, every blow job, every time you stoop so low as to look my way anymore is a favor as far as your concerned."

Adrenaline started washing over your body as you fought to stay in the moment. You could see the regret in his eyes and you wondered if you were careening toward scorched earth territory. You futzed with your shaking hands, unable to decide what to do with them before you crammed them under your armpits to still them.

You glanced at Steve's chest, clocking his quickened breathing. You could see how upset he was, feeling the intensity radiating off him where he stood just inches away. It was time to change course, to shock him out of the frenzy he was working himself into.

You glanced at the enormous four poster bed, festooned with a silky cream duvet and rich red throw pillows when an idea struck you. You looked back up at him, pinned under his expectant gaze. He was grinding his teeth.

"Did you fuck them in our bed?"

Steve was taken aback. He glanced between you and that stupid, giant bed - a varitable chasm, a luxurious, oversized token of a failed union. He was struck dumb, scarcely comprehending the question.

"Huh?"

To say you had gone off-script would be an understatement. Not that there was a script as such, but the story beats tended to be locked in everytime.

You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, a renewed sense of purpose taking you over. "Your office skanks. The ones you've been generously donating your dick to. Did you fuck them in our bed?" you asked again, enunciating your words.

Steve blinked at you with wide eyes. "The hell kinda question is that, pumpkin?"

You softened your gaze on him and grazed his perfect jaw with your finger before stalking over to the bed. Steve watched as you gripped one of the bed posts and placed a hand on your hip. You looked like a showroom model, drawing his attention to where you stood.

Steve felt the gnawing in his stomach that had been building subside a little as he took you in. You looked so classy, so pretty, so sexy in that satin dress, in those black stockings. Your hair, which had been styled to perfection for tonight had gone a little flat, a tiny bit of mascara flaking under one eye.

He liked you best like this. The veneer of flawlessness cracked just enough to let him in. A little less perfect.

Your gaze was still soft and open and he gestured for you to continue. Satisfied, you lifted your chin and flexed your jaw.

"Did you fuck them in our bed, darling? I deserve to know."

You sat primly on the tufted bench at the foot of the bed, legs crossed, hands planted on either side of you.

Steve gulped, feeling the ice returning to his veins but he knew he needed to press on. This was the sweet spot. He ignored the noodly feeling in his legs, strutting over to where you sat and plopped down next to you.

He looked in your eyes. "Yes."

"All of them?" you asked softly.

Steve couldn't stop the tears building as he forced himself to keep looking at you, a spectral sense of shame that he had never picked up but that he nevertheless carried searing his neck and cheeks.

"Just Dana. Er, Diane? A-and, Kimberly," he stuttered.

You couldn't help yourself then, giving his pinky finger a little tickle with your own and you felt your own tears building. Seeing him cry always got to you a little, but you were getting better about it. You kept your face steely as you quickly wiped them away and you sniffed.

"Did they let you fuck them in the ass?"

"Everytime."

"And that's why you did it? To get back at me because I wouldn't let you have my ass?"

"Partly," he whispered back, thickly.

You blinked back more tears and cleared your throat. "What's the other part?"

Steve flinched as he propped his elbows on his knees, fixing his eyes on the ground. He gripped his hair meanly between his fingers. His voice was thick and strained with emotion, but the words flowed easily then.

"The other part is that I'm a shallow, hollow, status-obsessed creep that cares more about pretty, shiny new things...and more about my empty family legacy than I do about my family."

You kept your hands in your lap even though you ached to reach out and touch him, to pull him back to you. Instead, you sniffled softly so as not to disturb the man beside you as he continued.

"Even when I'm home, I'm somewhere else. I should have stayed alone since that's clearly what I wanted all along. Spendy liquor and cheap lays."

You pressed your nails into your palm, worried about how still he was, still itching to touch him. You didn't. You listened to his voice become thinner, straining through stifled sobs.

"But instead I found you and snatched you away from whatever life you could have had instead. I married you and broke you and put your pieces in a little box. And you just took it and I think part of me hates you for that. And I punish you for it. I punish everyone for it."

He sobbed then, shoulders slumping. You bit your lip and tapped your foot, jonesing to touch him.

Steve scrubbed his tears away and violently inhaled the snot back into his sinuses. He watched the pointy toe of your heel tap tap tap on the ground.

The dam had broken again after how many times of this and he was wrung out. Done. There was a finality to this, he felt. Like this might have pushed him over that finish line that he'd been seeking for so long.

"Fuck..babe..fu-pomegranate," he whimpered.

"Pomegranate?" you repeated back in a tiny voice.

"Pomegranate."

You stood abruptly and walked between his spread thighs. His eyes were pinched shut as he tried to call back the tears that left angry, red rivulets down his cheeks.

You gently raked your fingers through his hair, straightening it gently, lovingly. "Can you look at me, baby?"

He sniffled again and shook his head abruptly. "In a minute. S'too much right now. But hold me, please, honey?"

You pulled him into you, cradling his head to your chest and stroking his back while he clung to your waist. After a moment you pressed your mouth to the crown of his head.

"Let's breathe now."

"M'okay," he said in a little voice, clearly not wanting to loosen his grip on you.

"No, love. Remember? We said," you chastised gently. "It's important. Just a few."

You led him through a handful of deep breaths, never ceasing your loving hold on him, peppering your counting with praise for him.

Slowly, Steve stood and hooked his arms around yours pinning them to your sides. You pushed your hands into back pockets of his slacks as he finally looked at you. You propped your chin on his chest and gazed back, a soft smile making it's way on both your faces.

"Hi," he whispered down at you.

"Hi," you returned. "We good?"

In spite of how exhausted he was, he wore a grin of what almost looked like elation as he nodded at you. The life had returned to his eyes, red though they were.

"Thank you, honey," he breathed gratefully as he rocked you.

You kissed his chest. "You don't need to thank me."

He tilted your chin up to meet your eyes again. "No, I really, really do. I feel kind of greedy sometimes. Asking you for this."

You cocked your head at him and shook your head lightly, willing him to understand how serious you were when you told him, "It's for us, love. I'd rather do this with you then have you carry all this with you for years and then-"

You didn't care to finish that thought. You didn't like to think about what you'd once worried would happen. That you and this man, the love of your life, would have to sit on a festering boil of his pain until it exploded one day, tossing you so far away from one another that you would never make it back into each other's arms.

Maybe from the outside these little exercises would have appeared weird or fucked up. But when Steve had confided his fears in Robin and she suggested role-play after watching an episode of Donahue, he thought screw it. He'd rather try that than do nothing and watch you slip away from him. Plus he knew that you wouldn't make him feel bad for asking. And wouldn't you know it, you heartily agreed.

You adored him for his sincerity, for being so vulnerable in asking you. You'd started out very mild, very slow. Sitting through tense dinner scenarios at first. Then graduating to little arguments in the car. Always structured, always negotiated beforehand.

When Steve's parents asked him to housesit while they jetted off again, he brought this idea to you. The pièce de résistance. Acting out a big blowout, an opera of hurt feelings inside the very walls where all his worst fears had spawned.

And it appeared now that your joint commitment (and the risk you'd taken going off-script and escalating the storyline) had paid off. The relief was palpable for you both.

Steve glanced around the room and made a noise of disgust. "Let's get out of here, honey."

You took his hand and you two started strolling leisurely toward the exit. You swung your linked hands, Steve passively taking in the features and layout of the house one more time for posterity.

You were both beyond ready to return to the little two-bedroom apartment you both shared with Robin on the other side of town. Sometimes it was drafty, it was always a little cramped, it was entirely furnished with second-hand stuff, mismatched tchotchkes and relics from three mismatched childhoods. There was a yellow stain in the shape of Rhode Island over the fridge. Oh, and the shower faucet handle was broken off, so you had to use a wrench to turn it on. You two couldn't wait to get back there.

"How mad do you think Moth is gonna be that we've been gone for three days?" you asked, pressing your nose into Steve's bicep as he locked the front door to Harrington Penitentiary. He glanced down at the key in his hand and chucked it carelessly into a flower bed.

Steve snickered at your question, grasping your hand again as you walked to the car. He opened the passenger door for you, lovingly protecting your head with one hand as you ducked into your seat.

"I think we should prepare for the possibility that he's officially Robin's cat now and we've been demoted to godparent status."

You grinned and giggled through closed lips, your cheeks full and glowing with the force of it. Steve couldn't help himself. He ducked down and delighted in the shriek you let out when he gave your cheek a little love bite before tucking your legs in and shutting your door for you.

When he was in the driver's seat, he paused, key at the ignition. You rolled your head against the headrest to look at him.

"Know what I wanna do when we get home?" he mused, looking up to meet your eye.

Your eyes sparkled at him, a placid smile on your pretty mouth, which he returned. "Hm?"

"I wanna get you out of that dress and eat you out. Those shoes stay on for that part," he said, eyes flicking to your feet. He reached over and caressed your face with his thumb as you softened into his touch. "Then I wanna hold you real close and make love." He brushed some flaky mascara away from your eye. "After that I'll put you in that goofy, giant shirt you love sleeping in..."

You rolled your eyes but smiled. "It's not goofy," you muttered in faux-offense.

Steve grinned wryly. "It's got a picture of a cactus with sunglasses and a cowboy hat and I'm pretty sure you completely disappeared inside of it one night." You giggled again.

Steve's face smile softened. "And then we'll go to sleep. And, in like a year, I wanna ask you to marry me - properly, I mean- and I want you to say yes."

Your eyes didn't leave his as you grabbed his hand and pressed sweet kisses into each of his knuckles.

"Yes, baby. Yes to all of it."

"Good."

"Good."

You swapped rounds of deep kisses and whispered I love you's before Steve drove you home.

[lyrenminth]

Getting back together

Note: I need to decide if I make a second part of this, because i really liked it. Anyway, tell me what do you think.

Summary: You and Joe meet again after your break up and good things happen.

Damn. 

How long have been since you and Joe were in the same room? Three years? Four? Since you break up, you went zero contact. It was relatively easy because his work was very demanding and he travelled a lot, so the only thing you did was to block him in your socials and stop watching his games. Well, you lose many friendships with the others WAGS because you weren't relatable anymore but it seemed like the best for both. Actually, Joe's rising fame was one of the reasons you guys break up. Dating in college was nice and was something you could handle it, but the NFL was a different monster and living through Joe made you realized you weren't prepared for this. Being a supportive girlfriend was a hard task when you had your own problems and almost drowning on them, and of course you couldn't tell anything to Joe because he needed to be focus on his game. After many discussions with him about his moods and a couple of months in therapy made you take the decision to break up with him. It wasn't easy and Joe didn't take it nicely, but he respected your decision. "I hope you don't regret this" he said after crying in front of you.

And you thought you would regret it. The first months were hell. Crying every day feeling dumb and empty because Joe was your first love and he taught you many things. Crying because you missed him, his kisses, hugs and cuddles. The nights watching T.V and how he always criticized the series when the plot didn't make any sense. "How is that even possible?" he always exclaimed, annoyed at the T.V "That doesn't make any sense. Who is hiring these people?" And you just laughed. 

But you were expecting to live with guilt the rest of you life. It took all your self-control not to call him or being in contact with him. Because if one day you and Joe meet again, you wanted to be a better version of yourself. You wanted to be present and free of bullshit from you friends and family. You wanted to feel better about you body and everything else. Of course, you didn't expect him to take you back, because you knew he wasn't that type of guy but deep inside you, with all you dreams there was a desire of a chance. Also, you friend told you he was dating here and there, he was having fun without commitment and that increased your silly hopes. So, when your eyes meet in a room full of people you felt a shiver down your spine. He tried to hide his surprise but you couldn't. You weren't expecting him there. You looked at your friend and squeezed her hand.

"Why you didn't tell me Joe was here?" you asked her, trying not to sound nervous.

"How am I supposed to know?" she replied, frowning "Go and talk to him" she encourage you.

"Are you nuts? Mindy I broke up with him" you explained.

 "And?" You left out a sigh, looking around, trying to act normal.

"Oh my God, he's looking at you" she said, excited. "Stop" you mumbled, feeling like you were fifteen again. Act cool. You are cool. You talked to other people being fully aware of his presence and how all the women were around him, trying to catch his attention. You recognized Sam and Ja'Marr too. They were chatting and drinking. You tried to stay away,and in the middle of night your headed to the bathroom. You were heated and a little bit drunk. After cooling a little bit in the restroom you went out and found Joe standing in the hallway. You heart stopped watching him standing there. You thought he was a random guy but after a closer view, it was Joe. "Hi" you said, feeling a rush in your body. His blue eyes were fixed you. His face didn't change so much after these years, he was a little bit tanned, maybe from one trip to the beach. "Can we talk?" he said, raspy voice.

His first words after three years. You didn't know what you were expecting but oh, well. You nodded and you follow him to a different room you didn't know it existed. He close the door behind you. It was a bedroom...why the club had a bedroom? What kind of club it was? You were wondering why they had a room like this and didn't notice Joe was staring at you the whole time. You weren't going to hook up anyway. You wanted to talk, but he asked you first so you waited patiently. "Sam told me you were here" 

"I am"

"Are you living in Cincy again?"

"I'm visiting some friends" He nodded and added "I was surprised, I didn't expect to see you again" that hurt, because you were expecting the opposite. Joe walked through the room, doubtful about his next step. "I didn't know you were here" you replied. It was true, it was the biggest coincidence of your life. Being in the same club at the same hour, the same day.

"After you blocked me I wasn't expecting that either" he said. There it was. Joe in petty mode. "I explained my reasons" you stated not wanting to explain what you already explained in the past. 

"Yes, and I told you I didn't want to break up" he recalled, his eyes full of emotion. You didn’t meant to hurt him. You remembered how desesperate he was trying to change your mind “Please baby, don’t do this, we will make it, please”

You swallowed, feeling his stare burnt your skin. That was magic Joey, he made you feel special and unique. Besides, Joe was so passionate. "I wasn't the partner you deserved Joey" you replied, emotional "I was in a bad place, my family was having a hard time, my friend was having a hard time. I was having a hard time and nobody cared"

"Why you didn't talk to me?" he said, exasperated.

"Because!" you raised your voice feeling vulnerable and exposed. You cleared your throat trying to remain calm "Because I didn't want to bother you when you were in the middle of the season with a losing record. You needed to be focus, you needed to win because everyone expected it"

That was the worst season for you and Joe. And once the words left your mouth you felt relieved and exhausted. You gasped for air, not wanting to cry in front of him."I was young and immature. Everything was new to me and I didn't know how hard it was. I felt dumb when you arrived home in a bad mood and nothing I did made you feel better and then I was alone having this thoughts..." you voice cracked in the last sentence. You look up at the ceiling, avoiding Joe's eyes.

 "Are you better now?" he said in a sad tone. You nodded, pressing your lips together. "Yes, I got help and things got better" He got closer to you, you remained still not knowing what to do. You were face to face again and it was like seeing him for the first time. Joe was and always will be breath taking with that sharp nose and chiseled jaw. You wanted to hug him and bury your face in his chest, instead, you move awkwardly. If you stood on your tip toes you could reached his lips. 

"That's good because I have miss you really hard" he confessed in a low tone. For all the heavens, that was so unfair. "Are you drunk?" You wondered. Joe never did or said things like this. 

He laughed, a child laugh. "No, I'm being honest" His body radiated heat and his smell (fresh, clean, masculine) made you dizzy. This was so wrong but so good. "What you want Joe?" you asked, fixed your eyes on his.

"I want you" he said each word clearly. You had to close your legs because it was too much. You wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to ride him until you were breathless, to scratch his back muscles while he thrust deeply inside you until he found his pleasure. "Do you want to fuck me?" you wanted to clarify. 

"I want to fuck you, I want to date you, I want to have what we had before" his voice was full of desire. It made you squirm. He was so close and those pink lips seemed really appetizing.

 "I...we...we need to take the things slowly" you said out of breath. Trying to put the words together without mumbling. It was bad he wasn't even touching you "I don't want to repeat the same mistakes in our relationship" He nodded a little bit effusive. "Neither do I" was all he said."And we need to talk more, I need you to listen and I need time together" you stated. 

"Ok, I agree"

 You nodded, more comfortable. "This isn't going to be easy but I'm willing to try" you said, finally "because I still like you" You licked your lips, leaning towards him. You looked at his soft skin and his Adam's apple going down after he gulped. "Do you still like me?" you asked. You needed to know. Instead of answering, he took your hand and put it on his crotch. You felt his erection through the jeans and it left you speechless. "Fuck, Joey" you whispered, a little bit ashamed and extremely horny. "So, take that as a yes" You looked at the door. Mindy must be worried and searching for you. You should go back and clear your mind. You needed to think straight. You forgot how powerful was Joe, how could you forget it?

 "I-I need to take air" you said, blushed. 

That's fine" his raspy voice made you swoon.

"I need a little bit of space right know, but I don't know what to do..." you said, nervous "Can you give me your number? I'll message you later"  

"Ok"Joe took out his phone from his pocket and gave you his number. He was staring at you the whole time.

 "Are you here with friends?" He asked."Yes, my friend Mindy..."

"Let me take you home" 

"No" you quickly said.

"No?" 

"I don't trust myself right know and I want to take the things slowly" you explained, nervous "and I think I saw you drinking"

"So, you were watching me" he said with a mischievous grin.

"Me and another fifty girls, yes" 

"Then, my bodyguard can take you home"

"Do you have a bodyguard?" that was a surprise.

"Against my will" he explained. You almost rolled your eyes. "No, Mindy drive us here, don't worry" He nodded. You moved away towards the door feeling his stare on you, You wanted to say something but you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t expect to have this electrifying connection after all these years. It was like your body remembered him. Missed him.

One step at the time. You must take one step and enjoy it.

“It was nice to see you” you said, a shy smile on your face.

You wanted to see him again, and again, and again.

[taylormereditholivia1989]

I am still so grateful that @taylorswift liked the post of me and my sister Kate during the Lover era! For sure the most surrealist thing that's ever happened!

We are finally seeing Taylor live this year!! We have dreamt of seeing her live since we were young (7 and 4 years old). Money has always been tight for us. Our Mum and Dad knew how much we really wanted to go to the Speak Now tour in Belfast but unfortunately could not make it happen. ❤️

By the time 1989 and reputation came to Dublin, I eagerly watched videos of the tours on YouTube and posted updates on my tumblr. However, by then my little sister Kate was seriously struggling and repeatedly hospitalised with the (then undiagnosed) and vert rare connective tissue disorder that is Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Kate unintentionally lost a significant of weight during these years and stopped getting nutrition from her food. We were terrified and didn't know what would happen.

We were born with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and Dysautonomia, but these were only diagnosed last year. 🦓🦓💛💛

I have dealt with my symptoms from my early teens. My sister Kate has struggled since childhood. This has made socialising and forming solid friendships impossible as we are typically too ill to meet up.

Kate has a knee operation coming up soon. I have kyphosis surgery. We don't yet know if this will be before or after the eras tour in June. We hope everything works out and we can see Taylor live to celebrate all the eras.

To see Taylor right in front of us at Dublin Night One still feels too good to be true. This is what we have been waiting for all these years. I can't wait to sing and dance with Taylor and thousands of other fans for one magical night. I can't wait to have the best evening ever with my parents and my sister. This is what Kate and I have spent hundreds of hours sitting around the fire, carefully analysing verses and discussing hidden meanings. 🔮

Kate and I use a wheelchair part time. We do, however, plan to stand during the eras concert in the front right with our parents for a once in a lifetime experience. We will wear our braces and keep our pain medication topped up. We will get through the night. We know laughs and memories from the tour will last us a lifetime. We have many more tests and examinations left to carry out, but no doubt your jams (especially the tortured poets department as well as future music you are probably already working on). 🤣

We most look forward to hearing the song marjorie live. We both cried when we first listened to it. Taylor describes her grandmother beautifully. We feel especially connected to our grandfather when we listen to this. We discovered a few months back that we inherited our rare genetic condition from our grandfather. He passed young as it went undiscovered. We believe listening to marjorie helps keep his memory alive because we think of him. 💙☀️

We are lucky to have Taylor's music as a form of therapy. We relate to her quirks and her awkward and lovable sense of humour. We genuinely believe Taylor is the funniest person to ever live and we are entranced by how she is so unapologetically herself. Being 5ft 10 and seeing Taylor in the media has really helped me to be more comfortable and accepting of my height and my overall appearance.

@taylorswift if you just so happen to see this post or catch a glimpse of our sequin dresses, curly hair and ever-glittery eye makeup on stage please know: Kate and I are beyond ecstatic to celebrate at your concert. We are going to sing and dance like we have always dreamed of doing. Please ignore our clicking knees and hips if you just so happen to hear them up on the stage. I can say with almost 99% certainty any clicking will be our 22 and 19 year old bodies just doing their thing lol. 🤣

P.S. We can't wait to see your extremely sparkly outfits, shoes and makeup (we really REALLY love glitter in case it wasn't already obvious!!) in person. We love how unhinged you are with sparkles!! 💜

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

- Anna (and the slightly more monotone but equally as funny, Kate). 🩷🩷

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS-SEASON 3, EPISODE 1: LAZY HAZY CRAZY DAYS (PART 3)

We now return to your regulary scheduled Paris Geller Nuclear Anxiety Attack, already in progress. Parts 1&2 and all other episodes can be found in my pinned post.

"Just to end up on a date with a guy without a Zagat and we end up in a restaurant that's just a front for a cocaine ring?" But enough about Luke's Diner. I KID I KID!! It was too easy. All the money laundering is going on next door at Doose's. Paris thought Luke's was a front for prostitution, though.

Paris asks the girl who is dating Dean Forrester how a person knows they're compatible with someone else, which is funny because nobody has figured out why Dean and Rory are still together. Here's a full list of the things Rory considers when it comes to compatiblity: 1.Someone who reads the same books, watches the same movies, and likes the same music 2.But someone who is not boring 3.You respect each other's opinions 4.You laugh at the same jokes 5. Someone who is not boring again Girly is definitely not talking about Dean Forrester. Dean can't read, doesn't listen to music, and in order for him to agree to watch a movie Rory wants to see, it involves 14 rounds of negotiations, he has never respected her opinions, he has never laughed at her jokes or made her laugh plus Rory's got that dreamy Thinking About Jess Mariano look in her eyes. Actually, let's face it, she's thinking about how much she loves Jess and how much she loves Paris simulatenously. The Throuple of all our dreams.

Oh, the way Paris looks at Rory, while Rory tenderly brushes her hair. Jamie who?

But she's already there. She's already there. AmyShermanPalladino has never met a "Get in the closet" joke she didn't like, but the timing of this one was just, ugh, impeccable. (Of course, there's another famous Closet Shoving coming up later in this season). Even though Jamey WhiteBread has known Rory for weeks, Paris worries that in the right light, Rory's breathtaking good looks will knock Nyquil off his feet and make him forget Paris exists. Okay, sure.

STOP I NEED AIR.

Go away, you bozo! Take your fucking Zagat guide and your dorky restaurant reservation and scram! Meawhile, Rory has retreated so deep in the closet that no light can penetrate it. She continues to pen her totally non sexual, non aching Letters to Jess.

Meanwhile back in The Heterosexual Hollow, Sookie and Lorelai continue to let the gay jokes fly and discuss a hetereosexual wedding that did not come to fruition. Richard and Emily have been away for the entire summer in Martha's Vineyard and they don't know that Lor and Crusty went kaput.

If this took place in 2023, Sookie would love Tinder.

Welcome to BizzaroLand Airport, which is probably a leftover set that once stood in for a doctor's waiting room. The tiniest and cleanest airport with minimal security a year after 9/11.

LOL, Lorelai's gonna catch a felony. You love to see it. Lock her up.

I need a moment to pay my respect for phone booths whenever I see them.

I need a moment to pay my respects for any rare moment of self awareness from Lorelai Gilmore whenever I see one. Now get your daughter into some fucking therapy.

Peaches and Herb are the 70's duo behind the sensual song "Reunited". (look it up; you've likely heard it before). So, let me get this straight: your kid's been gone for the entire summer and the first thing you think about upon her return is "Gee, I bet Rory's been just aching to give Dean Forrester a mediocre handy on my living room couch all summer, let me just roll out the welcome mat, give her my full blessing, arrange her schedule for her and even suggest a sensual musical selection." Between this and Rory persistently asking her mother about naked Luke in this episode (twice), we need to establish some hard parent-child boundaries here,okay? If Jess even deigns to hope for a little tug from Rory, Lorelai tries to decaptiate him. Luckily for him, he has now known the pleasures of Shane Shane the Handy Queen, She Has Jess, Rory Has Dean. Handjob jokes are really funny to me, because inside of me beats the heart of a 12 year old boy, or the heart of Beavis and or Butthead. Expect a lot of them going forward now that Handy Shane has entered the picture. Where is that goverment agent that almost arrested Lorelai, and his dog that's trained to attack on command, when you need him? Obviously, Lorelai had been lying to Emily about the date of Rory's arrival in order to spring Rory from FND so that's good, much better use of her time that trying to pimp Rory out to Dean and agitating agents of the United States Goverment a year after 9/11. (this episode aired on September 24th, 2002). Lor: I lied to my parents, which proves my deep love for you, I just wanted you to have one night of happiness. Only in Lorelai Gilmore's world would spending an evening with Dean Forrester be classified as a "night of happiness." Even the night of Dean's birth wasn't a night of happiness for Dean's parents. When Dean was born his mom tried to shove him back in. I really hate Dean. Anyway. Back at home Rory and Lorelai are discussing Crusty business. Both ladies are on a Crusty Freeze, as it appears they've been ignorning his calls and messages. So Lorelai has been freezing out Luke AND Crusty the whole summer. Their lives are probably a lot more peaceful now. Lorelai is anxious that she will have to break the news of Crusty's absence to the parents later and Rory offers to come along and distract them. Instead, Lorelai declines her services. Lorelai Gilmore, Go More than 15 Seconds Without Talking About Dean Challenge. And...GO!

Challenge failed, you lose, do not pass go, do not collect $200, no consolation prize, thanks for playing, please shut up. We learn that Lorelai has managed to avoid eating at Luke's all summer by taking shortcuts through bushes and eating at Al's Pancake World instead. Will it ever occur to her there are other restaurants just outside The Hetereosexual Hollow she could patronize? LIke an IHOP or something?

The gilly girls stop by S&J's and find them fighting amongst an antique explosion. LOL. This is pretty funny. Later they'll have lots of newlywed makeup sex with the giant bear watching over them. Then we're FINALLY off to the festival. See you for part 4.

[scottysketches]

WIP Wednesday

Another excerpt from ch4 of Don't Dream It's Over. I won't be able to work on it for the next few days as I'm going to visit my younger brother in Falmouth, though I may commandeer his laptop while I'm there as he primarily uses his desktop.

---

It takes him almost ten minutes to find Satine and Amis, and it’s only when he walks briskly past the hospital’s café and briefly glances in through the archway that he sees them sat together, clearly discussing something in Mando’a as other visitors around them keep throwing confused — and even slightly scared — looks their way.

He slides into the booth next to Satine. “You are aware that you’re frightening other people in here, aren’t you?” He tries to disguise his laugh as a cough, but it comes out sounding like a snort, when they both turn to him with blank expressions.

Amis runs the tip of his finger around the rim of his empty caf mug. “Is Korkie okay?” He doesn’t look up at Obi-Wan when he asks this.

But the Jedi smiles at the young man sat opposite him. “He’s fine. Actually, he wants to talk to you.” Amis looks up, his blue eyes glimmering with emotions long-repressed, and Obi-Wan emphasises, “Just you. He’s got something he wants to tell you.”

“Really?” Amis sounds a mixture of wary and hopeful; but he stands, anxiously smoothing his hands down the front of his shirt. “Well, best not keep him waiting. He gets grumpy if he’s ignored for too long.” Satine sniggers into her cup of tea next to him, and she and Obi-Wan watch as Amis leaves the café, walking back to Korkie’s room at a brisk pace.

He turns to his lover. “Twenty credits says we get back there and they’re snogging.”

Satine snorts. “Seriously? You want to bet on our son and his love life?” She levels a stare at him. “Alright, I’ll take that bet. Twenty credits — you win if we return to Korkie’s room at any point before Korkie is discharged and they are snogging, and I win if we don’t catch them snogging until after Korkie is discharged.”

Obi-Wan nods firmly, then grins and leans in to press a kiss to Satine’s cheek. “Deal.”

“Oh, and the loser — which will be you, my dear — cooks dinner tonight,” she adds; when Obi-Wan pulls back sharply with a playful glare, she shrugs. “I’m getting a little tired of Coruscanta hospital food.”

“Too bland for your Mandalorian tastebuds?”

“Far too bland.”

The café steadily empties as the other visitors return to their loved ones across the hospital’s various wards; they sit there as Satine finishes her tea, leaning with her head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and he wraps his arm around her, pulls her close. The subtle scent of her perfume wafts up towards his nose, and a smile crosses his face as it soothes him.

“What did Korkie want to talk about, anyway?"

Obi-Wan pauses, mulling over his words. “He wanted to know why I haven’t been here. And why I’ve been sleeping at the temple.” Satine doesn’t say anything, just twines the fingers of one hand with his own on top of the table. “He brought up the idea of therapy, too.” Satine looks up at him with a small frown, and he explains, “For my nightmares.”

Satine doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I’m not surprised,” she eventually murmurs. “Korkie used to see a therapist regularly after he started attending school at the academy. Originally it was for homesickness, but as he got older and Amis and Soniee were targeted by bullies for their sexualities—”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, interrupting her and smiling, “he mentioned a student who picked on Amis one too many times and found out the hard way that his friends were fed up with his bullshit.”

Satine rolls her eyes. “Well, suffice to say I verbally ripped Kohav a new asshole for assaulting one of his classmates while we had a Jedi visiting the academy…” And she pauses here, before admitting, “…even if it sounds as though the kid deserved it.”

Obi-Wan feigns swooning. “Well, I never! Duchess Satine Kryze, pacifist leader of the New Mandalorians, endorsing physical acts of violence? Whatever next?”

She leans back and punches his shoulder. “Nutennir laam, gar di’kut jetiise.”

They rise from their seats, Satine’s empty cup placed back onto a tray, and they hold hands as they begin walking back to Korkie’s room. Nothing is said between them — nothing needs to be said, not yet. Obi-Wan knows that Satine will question him about his nightmares eventually; but for the time being, they’re both content to let matters lie and just be there for their son.

They reach the main corridor of Korkie’s ward, and Satine quickly gives his hand a squeeze. “Whatever you decide to do,” she says quietly, and he turns his head to look down at her, “if you decide to start seeing one of the temple’s mind healers… keep me in the loop. I want to help, in whatever way I can.”

They approach Korkie’s room, and Obi-Wan brings Satine’s hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “You already do help, cyar’ika. In more ways than you know.”

Satine laughs. “I’m not talking about your cock, di’kut—” The door slides open, and Obi-Wan and Satine stop dead in their tracks, their eyes wide; and as they stand there, a grin begins to curl over Obi-Wan’s lips.

Amis is practically laying on top of Korkie like he’s one of the many blankets that cover the copper-haired young man, his hands hidden in the mop of hair on Korkie’s head; Korkie’s hands, in turn, are gently cupping Amis’s jaw, and the end of his long and thin nose is bent at an angle as their lips eagerly press together. A pink blush is creeping up their necks, and yet both of the young men remain completely unaware that they have an audience.

Satine lets out a noise that isn’t too dissimilar to an attempt at strangling a laugh, which makes Obi-Wan snort.

The boys quickly pull away from each other, though their swollen lips and steadily reddening faces are hard to hide. “Um,” Korkie says, and it comes out as a squeak; Amis just sinks down in his chair, his face in his hands and his legs raising so that he can curl into a ball. “This, uh… it’s not—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish, however, because Obi-Wan turns to Satine and says loudly, “Ha! Pay up!” Satine just groans and slaps twenty credit chits into his hand.

Korkie and Amis exchange a bewildered look; and then Korkie turns back to face his parents and just says, “Seriously?” Amis groans, pressing his face against his legs and wrapping his arms around his knees, trying to make himself as small as he possibly can. “Gods, could you be any more immature?” But the smile making his mouth curl up at the corners belies the truth that he’s just making fun of them.

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Mando'a translations: Coruscanta - Coruscant Nutennir laam, gar di'kut jetiise - Shut up, you idiot Jedi