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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Woof woof grrrrrr

CW for dub con, stay safe everyone <3

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au

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sixstepsaway · 6 months

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so here's the thing

i've seen a bunch of people say on twitter and stuff how... ed's behavior is very abusive and his anger is dangerous and he isn't romantic lead material because of it

and i get where they're coming from

but to me the main issue isn't putting ed in the position of a romantic lead, but not crafting the narrative around his characterization so that it allows for a spicy romantic pirates-in-love narrative instead of...whatever this is.

i'm going to try and explain this. idk if i'll do well but i'll try

the way she show presents stede is as an innocent baby who isn't really equipped for pirate life. he goes into a fugue/disassociative state whenever there's any real violence, apparently, and needs protecting by other characters when things get too rough - for example when ed is telling ned lowe not to take the poker to stede.

that's fine! it's honestly adorable to see a masc character being so soft around the edges and being protected by other characters this way.

(i'm not going to touch on stede's... eh... not great characterization this season rn)

then there's izzy, who is shown as a bit violent, a bit rough around the edges. he's more likely to draw a sword or throw a punch or hit someone with a chair or take a punch like a champ. violence is just part of life for him and that's okay, it just Is, from small things like smacking stede on the ass to bigger things like being wall slammed, it's not all that big or bad for violence to happen around and with him, he tends to give as good as he gets (there's some nuance here but i'm talking the macro themes not the micro of what izzy does vs is done to him)

and finally there's ed

ed is presented as violent (stabbing knives at guys, telling fang to use the snail fork etc) and used to a life of violence, and then in season 2 he's presented as really violent, his anger coming out in dangerous and terrifying ways

and frankly, i'd be super into it if he and izzy were the main ship and that twisted dynamic from the first two episodes of s2 was explored and fleshed out into something deeper

friends to enemies to lovers who fight and fuck. angry pirates who lay hands on each other, who break the whole ship with each other in the heat of passion.

except instead, s2 gives us... abuse. it gives us izzy cringing and lowering his head and trying to protect the kids crew from ed's angry outbursts.

so when stede comes back and he's still soft around the edges and ed headbutts him and it's deliberate, it's... not a great look, and the vibes are a bit skewed

if stede fought back, if when ed struck out at him he struck back, if they fought rather than it being one-sided, if it was friends to enemies to lovers and not presented as healthy, but maybe they can work their way there, who knows, maybe even more like anne bonnie and mary read because hey, they were doing something very similar?

except they were both into it. they were both enjoying the fighting and the fucking and the burning down the house.

stede's not enjoying it.

i cannot describe how much i hate this sequence just because of the way stede flinches

anne and mary don't!! mary jumps at the unexpected bang but she doesnt flinch, she doesn't cover her face like she thinks the vase will be coming for her not the wall and anne? looks so into it

and the thing is that in real life, no, you don't want to date someone who throws shit around, or headbutts you

but in fiction when it's two fucked up people doing this shit together like anne and mary?

that can be fun.

but instead what we've been given is stede flinching and apologizing to ed and then all of ed's...what, semi-redemption???? is done away from the other collection of people he abused, and then he spends some time on a fishing boat wearing a dog collar and everything is fine because he's good now and won't be doing anything bad ever again

and it's just... poor writing. the vibes are rancid.

i spent a really big chunk of time between s1 and s2 defending ed. i kept saying how what he did to izzy by making him eat his toe wasn't abuse, it was a one-off and abuse isn't a one-off thing it's a pattern, and then s2 made it a pattern.

explicitly. explicitly a pattern.

not just one toe but three.

jim saying "you're in an unhealthy relationship with blackbeard"

and all ed offered izzy was a "sorry about your leg" which might've been fine if izzy survived and they could work on this more, but instead that's all the apology and closure izzy will ever get

ed threw a chair and a vase and made stede flinch in fear and stede was right to do that. what part of any of this implies this will never happen again? that stede won't press the wrong button at some point and be on the receiving end? none of it

and if we'd been presented with a s2 stede bonnet who could handle himself and stand up for himself and fight back, then maybe i could imagine that turning into a weird sexy fucked up anne/mary like thing and maybe that could be why they put that episode in, but instead it feels like that episode was going, "look, see, ed's violence is fine because these two are fine with it with each other"

but stede isn't

ed and izzy or ed and stede in an unhealthy battle of a relationship could be such a fun, interesting and downright sexy thing to watch unfold on tv, and could honestly end somewhere far more down the chill end of the spectrum, but that's not what we've been given here

i cannot argue that ed isn't an abuser anymore, and not just of izzy but of the whole crew. he terrified frenchie.

it's not good writing to try and lean into the idea that ed and the pirates are violent and live a life of violence, so it's okay that ed's been violent, while simultaneously presenting his violence as traumatic and abusive, and then less than three episodes later saying oh it's fine now, he's just a little meow meow who can do no wrong, see?

especially considering they had him murdering people at the end of the season. and sure, you can say the english are just cannon fodder and they dont 'count', but they did before. ed explicitly did not kill before, and that included the english, or the spanish, or anyone else. so either they count or they don't, but flipping him on a dime makes no sense.

ALSO

having ed be the son of an abusive man who threw plates at his mother and made her cringe and then having ed kill his father to protect his mother and then a season later having ed become the kind of man who throws chairs and vases and makes his love interest cringe is, again, not bloody optimal

i want to say again i dont CARE about tv always presenting healthy relationships or tv always giving us aspirational goals. i want messy fucked up dynamics and terrible people making terrible choices, and still, to this day, i fucking love ed teach. i would honestly love to have seen them continue with ed's darkness and bring stede into it and see where they went with that, to have stede kill ned lowe and not just bury his feelings in ed but get off on it, enjoy the violence, and see where that led, but no

and so instead all we end up with is a protagonist who is being set up for a lifetime of abuse from an intimate partner, and a romantic lead who abuses his love interests (and yes. izzy is a love interest, he is set up like one and positioned like one and treated like one), frightens his love interests with his violence, is erratic and most of all inconsistently written. he was so sorry about scaring fang as though he hadn't been deliberately terrifying the whole crew for fuck knows how long? what?!

the whole fandom has spent so long saying, "no no, i know stede bonnet irl was a slave owner, but ofmd is using the names and not any real piracy, it's more disney piracy, you know? so that kind of stuff doesnt exist!" and then they flipped around and went "blackbeard is blackbeard and so he is evil and does all these horrible things" and i dont know how to rationalize the two sides of that because it feels so out of place

i'm getting rambly, this isnt a particularly well constructed thought process, i just feel like we were robbed both of a toxic, violent relationship that could be fun to see explored on tv and a soft and sweet love story between two middle aged men exploring their first loves in one fell swoop and there's no way for s3 to bring either of those things back because they got utterly torpedoed by making ed a horrible person

ugh

#ofmd critical #i hate that i'm using this tag now :c #edward teach #ed teach #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #i guess #izzy hands #stede bonnet

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months

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Datura Pt 3

Summary: Trapped Under the Mountain you have to decide if it's worth keeping your enemies close.

Content Warnings: Under the Mountain is like a walking trigger warning, but mentions of torture, unnamed character death via the torture; Rhys is an ass but he's a protective ass so we'll allow it.

Author's Note: This part is loooong, needed to set up Part 4 and it made sense in my head to have these bits in one piece before we get to the *cough cough* personal training. Hope you guys enjoy! :)

(Part 1, Part 2)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s no way out.

You bash the only heavy item you can find--a paperweight, tucked into the back of a dust filled drawer--against the air duct, over and over, large chunks of stone flying in every direction, even as the reality of the situation sets in. There are no back doors, no windows, just this slim chance that maybe, maybe you can bash your way out of the rock on sheer force of will.

The paperweights thuds against the stone make your ears ache. Every blow has your shoulder feeling like it might wrench from it’s socket any second, the pain a sharp thrum with every blow, but you can’t stop, if you stop you will think about it and if you start thinking about it, you won’t make it.

The blows land over and over, sometimes you switch arms to try and give yourself a break. You haven’t slept, exhaustion making this tedious, even more so when this escape attempt requires you to balance atop a bedside table that’s seen better days. Chunks of rock fly away from the wall, dust a heavy coat over your skin, your tongue. It’s like swallowing sand.

“Come on!” You beg the wall. The paperweight shutters, bits of metal cracking, denting. You’ve broken your fingernails, torn apart your knuckles trying to get the hunk of engraved metal to push through the rock. This is your only shot, the door’s bolted from the outside, a guard posted beyond. Rhysand, that bastard, had tossed you into this empty, dust ridden room hours ago. You aren’t entirely sure where you are, the journey over here a blur, glimpsed only in flashes as you’d hung over the male’s shoulder, but that’s irrelevant. The only thing that matters now is getting out, getting free. The air duct is more of a slit, carved into the rock wall that makes up your room, barely enough room for to slide your arm into, but you have to hope it gets wider somewhere. You can’t allow yourself to think about what happens if you can’t climb your way out of the room.

The paperweight lands again and again and again, the rhythm steady, the beat not unlike the drums that had gotten you into this mess in the first place. If you lived through this, you’d never go to another Calanmai celebration again. You take all that anger you feel, the helplessness and confusion of the last twenty four hours and channel it into your arm. The wall shudders, but your elusive powers do not flare behind a few wisps of darkness over your bloody knuckles.

“Break!” You snarl like it can hear you, bend to your desperation.

A few more blows and the only thing that breaks is the paperweight, the hunk of metal cracking into three, small pieces. You stare at it as it slips from your hand, scatters across the rock floor.

You know it can’t see you, but you flash your middle fingers at it. “Useless fucking thing,” you hiss as you climb off the bedside table. The room is larger than you anticipated, a bed in the center, the table next to it with a little lamp; there’s a small bathing room with a copper tub, sink and toilet. It’s not really a cell, it’s technically bigger than your room in the farmhouse, but the locked door reminds you it’s not better by any means. The whole place is dark, carved out of rock in the heart of a mountain, as far as you could tell when they brought you in. It might have made more sense if you were upright, but there’s no use dwelling on that now. Dust covers everything, the sheets, the walls, the floor, disturbed by your footprints, and also the bed that you managed to wiggle behind and push in front of the door. The wood was heavy, it had taken all your strength to push it away from the back wall and across the room. It might not do much, but it will be enough to give anyone pause, at least you hope. It’s better than sitting around waiting for them to come back, at the very least.

You go back to the bathroom, pausing briefly to wash the blood from your hands, then slowly study the place, looking for something you missed the first time around. One door, not even a door to the bathing room to lock yourself in if necessary. No more vents. No windows. No cupboards. Very little places to hide unless you feel like hiding under the bed. You go over the space inch by inch, looking for anything else to use to help dig yourself out, but there’s nothing. Not unless a cheap bar or soap of the moth bitten sheets can be used somehow. The base of the lamp looks heavy, but then you’d be working in the dark and that’s not an option.

You’re about to break down and cry when the door opens. Unhindered, because it doesn’t swing in, it swings out, your idea to block the door absolutely useless. From the darkness of the hallway, Rhys stares at you, then the bed, the wooden frame barely up to his chest.

You flash your middle fingers at him too, teeth pulled back in a snarl. If he tries to come in here you really will rip out his throat. He’d deserve it. Bastard. How could he do this to you?

With a smirk, and the flick of Rhys’s wrist, the bed re-centers itself against the far wall. Not even an inconvenience, he’d moved it like it was no effort at all.

Shit.

“Was that supposed to be a barricade?” The door swings shut behind him, the lock clicking ominously into place in the cavernous space. He’s found a new shirt, the one he’d given you earlier stuffed in the corner where you can’t smell the scent of him any longer.

He seats himself on the edge of your bed, making himself comfortable, eyes darting briefly to the new hole in the wall. “Dare I ask?”

You cross your arms over your chest, still barring your teeth. Perhaps Calanmai had turned you into more animal than girl. “It was like that when I got here.”

“Of course,” he says with a shrug, like he knows it’s useless, that you’ll simply tire yourself out, become easier prey.

“What do you want?” You hiss. He doesn’t seem to notice the venom in your tone, the way you make sure there’s distance between the two of you.

“Can’t I be here to make sure you’re comfortable?” He counters.

“What an excellent host you make,” you snarl. “Will you bathe and tuck me in next?”

His violet gaze rakes slowly over you, assessing the bare expanse of your legs, the tattered, mud stained hem of your shift, barely covering you, the barely there straps clinging for dear life to your dirt stained shoulders. It’s intense, you know many fae would melt under it; you might have too, if things had been different, if the sight of him didn’t make you want to hurl something at his head.

“Darling, I’d lick you clean if you asked,” he says lowly.

“Does that shit usually work for you?” You snap back. He’s infuriating. How could you have kissed him?

He grins as he pushes away from the bed, eyes locked on your lips like he’s thinking about that kiss too. “I don’t usually have to resort to it, my good looks and natural charm do most of the work for me.”

“You have the charm of a viper.”

He huffs a laugh, “Cruel, wicked thing.”

His advances have you backing up, until you stumble right into the wall. The rock bites into your shoulder blades as he halts inches from you, close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your face; smell that citrus and jasmine scent of him. You should push him away, give yourself breathing room, but when he’s this close rational thought eddies from your head.

“What do you want?” You repeat, voice shakier than you intend, trying to remind yourself that you’re angry at him, that you don’t want him anywhere near you. It’s his fault you’re in here.

“Her highness wants you trained,” he says like that’s supposed to mean something to you.

All you can do is stare at him.

“She sent word to your father,” he amends. “He’ll be here in three months time.”

You’re suddenly aware of how loud your own heartbeat is.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me? He never bothered to contact me before.” You’re loosing your edge, mind spinning with all the things you could do to try and put some distance between the two of you.

“It seems your Uncle stole you away in the middle of the night,” Rhys explains. “Hybern has been looking for you since.”

“He’s done a shitty job.”

Rhys shrugs as he reaches out a hand to play with a tendril of your hair, curling it around his slender fingers. A cat playing with it’s food; he has no intention of letting you move away from the wall, trapped between the rock and his chest. “He’s eager to see you again, and Her Highness is eager to prove that you’re useful.”

“Why?” Why does Hybern suddenly care about you? Why does the red head care what you do with your powers? Why is this male touching you still and why are you letting him?

“Hybern’s an opportunist,” he says as he brushes the strand behind your ear. “His plans for Prythian might be closer to reality with the right power behind it.”

None of it makes any sense to you.

Rhys must see that on your face because he says, “Hybern made Amarantha. That might not make sense to you yet, but she is what she is because of him. She knows the best way to solidify her position within the world Hybern intends to create is to hand him a weapon already sharp enough to use.”

“So I’m to be a pawn then?”

He shrugs, the hand still against your temple drifting to brush over your cheek, like he can’t help but touch you. “Or you could also be an opportunist.”

You quirk a brow.

“Hybern might just be your only way out of here, Darling.”

“First off, don’t call me that. Second, what if I don’t?”

“You will.”

You shiver.

“Training isn’t the choice here. The choice is whether you want to see anyone get hurt to make sure it happens.”

“What are you gonna do, torture me?” You hiss.

He brushes a thumb over your lip, violet eyes trained there like he’s thinking about how they felt against his own earlier. “You have people you care about.”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

“She’s already given me the order to find your uncle.” His fingers drift lower, until he’s holding your chin between his forefinger and chin. “Where is he?”

“I’ve been with you,” you growl; his words snap you back to reality. He’s the enemy. You do not want to be this close to the enemy. “How would I know?”

“My spies tell me he packed a bag and left after finding you gone? Did you have a meeting place for emergencies?”

“Eat shit,” you snarl.

Something brushes against you, like a shadow, but it’s not against your skin, it’s against your mind. The sensation cold, foreign. You blink, pull your head out of his grip to shake your head, shake the feeling off, but it lingers, holding on.

“You don’t even have any fucking shields,” he snarls.

The brush against your mind makes you see things, the farmhouse, your own hands kneading bread, it takes longer than it should for you to realize you’re seeing your own memories play out before you.

“What-” a tavern spins into view, the worn sign clear enough in your eyes that you say the name out loud. It’s a little place, not too far from Spring’s borders, close enough to Autumn that you can get there by foot in half a day. Your uncle had shown you the place as a kid, said that if you’d ever gotten separated from him than you were to go there and wait. If he’d returned home and found the house empty, the first place he’d go was there.

The memory fizzles; the shadow recedes.

Reality slams into you, tears falling from your eyes. What did you just do?

Like he can’t help himself, Rhys brushes a tear off your cheek with his knuckle. “We’ll work on shields first.”

He moves to leave, but you grab him by the front of the shirt. “Wait, please… please don’t do this! I’ll do whatever you want, ok? Just, just leave my uncle out of this.”

It is not cruelty on his face, or judgment, it’s a flash of pain before he straightens, face a mask of perfect indifference as he slides his hand over yours. “As I said, Darling, I would consider your options here carefully.” He pulls your hand away, the lock sliding out of the door on a phantom wind, and then he’s gone.

Only when the lock clicks into place again do you allow yourself to crumple to the floor and cry.

There’s a flower on the bedside table when you finally manage to get up off the floor. It’s the same glowing, violet bud that you had seen in your dreams, the one that had led you right into Rhys’s waiting arms. You pick it up gently, starring at the soft petals, so thin you can almost see through it. It’s beautiful and strange all at once.

Then you take it to the bathroom and flush it down the toilet.

No more stupid flowers, or those damn visions, no more chasing flowers through the woods and trusting stupidly handsome males to protect you. Fuck him and these stupid flowers! They’re to blame for all this mess. A mess you were now dragging your uncle into.

You might have started to spiral again if there wasn't another flower in the first’s place by the time you step back into the main room. As if the one you’d moved had never been there. You stare at it for a long while, then back at the bathroom, the water still running as the toilet flushes, just to make sure you hadn’t imagined removing the first one.

Groaning, you snatch the second one and toss it down the toilet with the first.

There’s a third as quickly and as soundlessly as the other two had arrived.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” You snatch it off the bedside table and crush it into your hand, the scent of it overwhelming, too strong for any flower not sprouting from the ground to be.

You wipe the remains on the dirty sheets as you sit on the bed, watching the table now, daring a fourth to appear. No one has used the door, the vents aren’t an option, it’s got to be some sort of magic. Unless tables can sprout gardens in this strange mountain dungeon.

As if it knows it’s being watched, no fourth flower appears.

You cross your arms, waiting, challenging it. Minutes tick by. Nothing. Only then do you breath a sigh of relief.

But in the stillness of the room, the lack of entertainment soon becomes suffocating. You try to distract yourself by stripping the sheets off the bed and shaking the dust off of them. You’re obviously going to be sleeping here, might as well make yourself comfortable. But that doesn’t take long.

You push the bed back in front of the door again, it’s failure be damned. At least, if anyone tries to enter while you sleep you'll have a second to get up and move before they get inside.

The bedside table looks lonely without the bed next to it, with a shrug, you decide to move that as well. You’re half way across the room when one of the legs hits a pit in the floor and tips, the lamp bouncing off the floor with a clang that echoes like a death toll in the cavernous space. The movement knocks the slim drawer on the table wide open, a worn book tumbling out across the floor. It definitely hadn't been there earlier when you'd opened it and found the paperweight. The fading title reads Death Gods and Goddesses Through the Ages, in a scrolling font, the author’s name long since legible in the battered leather. There’s less dust on the pages than the rest of the room, like it hasn’t been here quite as long. After collecting the fallen lamp, blissfully not broken, as if is spelled to avoid such things from clumsy creatures like you, and pushing the table against it’s new home on the wall, you sit yourself atop the bed and prop the book open.

The pages are worn, stained, most of the margins filled with hand written notes. A couple of the pages are even book marked.

Long before the first ages of the world, when light was first introduced, the Gods walked the land, unburdened with the weight or mortality. They were before Time. Until the Darkness came and merged with them. Next to the opening paragraph, someone had added the annotation: These are not the same as the Princes from Hel that opened the Portals in the Dark Ages, these are other. Their powers are other.

You shiver and close the book. Who would keep this here?

You draw your fingers over the edges as you process, lip worried between your teeth. It feels like a bad omen, a warning… from the flowers? Your head hurts from all the questions. Are these supposed to be connected? The flowers had led you to the cave, were they leading you to this strange book now too?

You climb under the covers, cold, and then crack the book open again.

The Darkness took hold, hid Its children in the shadows of the world, rearing its beloved offspring in secret. We did not know to fear them until it was too late. Monsters, they are such terrible monsters. The next note in the margins was a page number that you flipped to, marked with an old slip of paper with swirling marks doodled across it. The High Lords of old consulted with witches and necromancers, priestesses and seers, biding their time, accumulating their knowledge until they were finally able to form a weapon against the Death Gods. At least, that was what they told them. There were those among them who didn’t want the gods removed, they wanted their power to wield, to rule. There’s lists of names, linked in genealogical order of ancient High Lords and bloodlines that had merged with the Death Gods and Goddesses of old. All carefully mapped out. Whoever had owned this book before had done their research, some of the trees branched over onto other pages, the names growing smaller and smaller the longer they went. You don’t have time to read through all of them before the lock on the door groans as it’s moved out of place.

You scramble to hide the book under the mattress before the door opens, though maybe it would have served you just as well as a weapon, because it’s not Rhysand at the door this time.

The soulless black eyes that leer down at you can only belong to the Attor.

It takes seconds for the hulking creature to kick the bed out of the way, the wooden legs screeching as they slash through the rock floor. You don’t even have time to scream, run, as the monster bursts into the room and grabs you by the back of your shift.

“The Queen demands an audience,” it sneers in a voice that sounds like shifting sand.

You flail as it lifts you off the floor like you weigh nothing, begging whatever gods can hear you for help. In a rare flare of power, your claws tear through your fingertips, dark, misty power budding in your palms. You claw at the leather hands holding you, slashing over and over again, splattering blood over the walls.

The Attor snarls, tosses you hard into the wall just outside your door. The impact is jarring, black spots swimming across your eyes, all the air leaving your lungs in a rush. You scramble to get onto your feet, legs unsteady, the room spinning. The cavern like tunnel ahead of you flips and doubles.

“Stupid girl!” It snarls as it reaches for the back of your shift again.

You scramble out of reach, legs wobbly, talons scraping across the walls. You make it all of three steps before the Attor grabs you again. If it’s arms aren’t it’s weak spot you need to hit it somewhere else, but it holds you up out of reach, lesson learned. You reach for the walls instead, punching your talons through the rocks, trying to wrench yourself out of it’s grip by finding something to hold on to.

The terrible shrieking sound your claws make against the rock makes the Attor give you a shake that has your brain rattling around in your skull. “Stop that you little pest!”

More spots swim across your vision, hands slipping off the walls. These last twenty-four hours have made you feel more powerless than you have ever felt in your life. What good are these supposed powers beneath your skin if they don’t even work?

The Attor, on lumbering legs, carries you through dark, twisting tunnels. It’s like walking through a maze, the dark stone walls only lit with torches in sparse intervals. There’s no decorations. Little light. And cold, so damn cold.

The Attors claws scrape against the ground as it walks; you recognize the scrapping sound from the cave in Spring. It had been out hunting you too.

“Where are you taking me?” You dare to ask.

It takes a couple more sharp turns, it’s breathing a heavy hiss behind you as it finally brings you to a set of double, stone doors. They’re taller than even the High Lord’s manor, something you imagined you’d see a cave troll bursting out of in one of your books at home. There is something ancient, sacred about the space as the doors swing open on their own. The chamber ahead of you is cavernous, held up by too many carved pillars to count, all depicting different battles across Prythian’s extensive history. It’s the art work you’ve seen replicated in temples and paintings across the Courts, all supposed to be symbolic, holy, but this…

The floors are made of red marble, like a blood stain; fitting because pinned to the walls are bodies, some human, some fae, some other, all disfigured and mutilated. The contents of your stomach rises into your throat.

The cavern is full of fae, some dancing to the low rumble of music coming from the corner, like no one notices the horrors around them.

At the far end of the space sits a dais, the red headed Queen seated atop it. A glittering dress the shade of her hair hugs her form, a single shard of bone dangling from a string around her neck the centerpiece of the plunging neckline. She sips from a golden chalice, a smudge of red lipstick along the glass, her eyes bored as she surveys the party happening around her. There’s a half dressed male sitting at her feet, head in her lap, her clawed nails drifting absently through his pale hair. A cloud of mirthroot smoke circles him, golden eyes glassy like he has no idea where he is. Rhysand leans against the back of the throne, the only one watching the Attor approach at all. Maybe it is normal to see the gangly creature drag people into the throne room, the party goers certainly don’t notice you.

Amarantha, Rhys had called her, only notices you when the Attor all but hurls you at the base of the dais, your body crumbling against the stairs.

“Her Highness,” the Attor sneers.

The Queen’s grin is cruel as she passes her cup to Rhys, who all but tosses it over his shoulder when she’s not looking. “Quiet!” She barks at the musicians, half hidden in an alcove between pillars. Her voice carries through the room like she had screamed it, the echo in the chamber making the floor shake.

All eyes are suddenly on you as you manage to get back on your feet.

“Rhysand tells me you’re willing to cooperate,” Amarantha says.

You’re very aware of the leering eyes of the crowd as they take you in, still wearing nothing but a shift. The crowd doesn’t get too close, but they’re near enough that you hear the whispers, the laughter. It’s an effort just to swallow. “Yes, I did,” you choke out, intentionally not looking at the male.

Amarantha frowns, “What was that, mouse? I can’t hear you.”

Your cheeks heat; your hands clenching into fists at your sides. “Yes, I will cooperate,” you bite out.

“Hybern will be glad to hear it,” she strokes a hand over the male’s temple, leaving faint pink scratches across his pale skin. He’s too high to notice. “It will be a great victory for the Court to have you back and ready to take your rightful place.”

Rightful place your ass. None of this feels real, right. Your rightful place is with your uncle, trying dozens of new jobs every time his trading business slows, learning new things to make the money stretch. The farmhouse was a new project, a new chance at settling down and not having to live on the road like you had for most of your life. That life was the only thing you had ever known. To be here now, hearing all this talk about war and conquest, with this queen and her court, it was like you’d stepped into a strange dream you couldn’t escape. You’d been trying not to think about it, but faced with it now you didn’t know what to do, say. She was starring at you like she was waiting for you to thank her for ripping the ground out from under you.

Amarantha frowns when you don’t say anything, her hand across the male’s forehead stilling, the eye in the ring on her finger swiveling to look right at you as if it’s a living thing.

“Rhysand,” she snaps, “you had a gift for our guest, didn’t you?”

Rhys looks up from his very important business picking lint off his shoulder. “Right, of course, the gift.”

The crowd quiets as he descends from the dais and snaps his fingers. At your feet a male appears, bound and gagged with the dark tendrils of Rhys’ magic. The male looks at you pleadingly and though your heart goes out to his plight, you glance up at the other male in confusion. Are you supposed to know who this is?

“Your uncle’s farm hand,” he says with a grand sweep of his hand, all courtly business.

“Since you couldn’t find the kidnapper,” Amarantha hisses.

Rhys slides his hands in his pockets casually, the picture of bored indifference. But his violet eyes are only on you as he says, “This was the only male waiting for her at the Temple she told me about.”

Temple? Your head spins. You hadn’t shown him a temple.

Amarantha pushes the male in her lap away from her as she climbs down the stairs in heels sharp enough to cut. “A little demonstration is in order, don’t you think?”

Rhys steps a little closer to the bound male, but you can’t help but note that he has now positioned himself between you and where Amarantha is poised at the base of the dais.

The male makes a gasping sound before his eyes glaze over, sweat quickly dotting his forehead. Rhys remains with his hands in his pockets, Amarantha giddy at the sight unfurling before her, and even though neither of them move, it’s clear the male is fighting the invisible grip they have on him. You can’t help but think about what the two of them have already done to you.

“Wait,” you protest. Even if you don’t know this male, you don’t want him to suffer. “I already said I would cooperate, this isn’t necessary!”

The male begins to scream, thrash, and the bands of darkness around his wrists and legs dip into the marble floor, pinning him.

The crowd presses in closer to watch; you hear someone start making bets about how long he’ll last.

“This is a little reminder,” Amarantha coos at you, soft enough that the crowd won’t be able to hear it over the screaming. “Of what will happen if you decide you suddenly don’t want to cooperate with my training regime.”

Blood starts to pool in the corner of the male’s eyes.

You can’t stop yourself from stepping forward and grabbing Rhys’s arm. “Please, stop, I get it ok! Let him go. I will do what you ask.”

But louder than your pleading, Amarantha orders, “If he has nothing to give us, kill him.”

The gag slips from the male’s mouth as he turns to look at you with what looks like his last little bit of strength. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

The sound of bones snapping fills the chamber; the male gurgles on his own blood, and then he slumps lifelessly to the floor.

Tears stream down your cheeks and you yank your hand away from Rhys’s arm, disgusted.

Amarantha waves the Attor over to clean up the mess, even as she says, “You may resume your dancing now.”

As if it never happened, the music starts back up. People start laughing and drinking, the dances not unlike the writhing shapes you had seen in your vision of Calanmai.

She waits until the noise is too loud to be overheard by the crowd to ask, “Did he tell you where her uncle is?”

There’s no chance this stranger knows anything about your uncle. Rhys had lied, but you still find yourself holding your breath, waiting for this to be a trap too. The male certainly acted like he’d known you.

But Rhys says, “I saw a tavern in Winter, I’ll head there-”

“My men will take it from here,” Amarantha interrupts, “I want you here, working on her.”

Rhys bows. “As you wish, My Queen.”

“Escort her back to her room,” Amarantha orders, “I don’t want her back here until we’re sure she can be controlled.”

“Of course,” Rhys moves to take your arm and you duck out of reach.

“I can walk,” you hiss.

He lets his hand fall, slides it back into his pockets.

Amarantha is half way up the dais when she calls back, “I expect quick results.”

He nods in understanding.

“And don’t forget, Rhysand, about the deal you made for this opportunity.”

His eyes darken. “I haven’t.”

As far away from him as you want to be, it’s a relief when he motions for you to move towards the door. The crowd parts for you, some of them outright ignoring you, others leering.

A redheaded male watches the two of you closely, catching Rhys’s eye as you pass.

Rhys snarls something you can’t make out at him.

“Whore,” the other male spits back.

Rhys laughs mirthlessly in response as the doors shut in the other male’s face.

You have questions of course, but the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours weighs so heavily on you, you almost wish it was the Attor carrying you out. Every footstep is heavy.

Rhys doesn’t speak as he leads you through the maze of tunnels. You should be attempting to learn the path, so if you ever do get out you know where you’re going, but it feels like so much effort. What does it matter in the end? You’re stuck here, at the whim of an evil queen and whatever the hell Rhys is, at least until your supposed father gets here and decides to do Mother knows what with you. Any attempts at escaping, at fighting are useless, not when Rhys knows where to look for him. It’s the reminder that he lied that finally makes you look up from where you’ve been following the cracks in the floor.

“Why’d you do it?” You ask softly.

“Do what?” He counters. He sounds as exhausted as you feel.

You watch the way the shadows of the torchlight bath him in half darkness, the glow of his eyes dimmed here. Everything about him feels dim in these halls, like the mountain has stolen something from him.

“That male-”

He halts at a door that must now belong to you and a bit of magic pulls the door open. “She wants you to know what she will do if she even suspects you’re trying to outsmart her.”

“No,” you shudder thinking about what he had done. How could anybody wield powers like that? “No that’s not what I mean.”

Rhys leans against the doorframe and motions you inside. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me then, Darling.”

You stare at him. He seems to be playing a game unto himself. Whatever his motives are, whatever it has to do with you, he’d not about to admit it here in the hall.

You step into the room, head pounding from all the unanswered questions you have.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says as the door begins to close.

You don’t want to see him in the morning. He’s a monster who can rip people’s minds apart with a thought, a monster who somehow lured you out of your home and brought you here to his evil queen, but he’s also the monster keeping your secrets, and in places like this, you might need a monster like that on your side. You won’t trust him, not after what he’d done in the cave, but maybe it’s not trust you need in a place like this. Amarantha demands you learn to use your powers, she never said anything about you using them on her.

“I’m counting down the seconds,” you say dryly.

“Dream of me,” he says sweetly.

The door closes before you can snarl that you’ve dreamed of him enough.

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graymanshoots · 6 months

Text

Simon “Ghost“ Riley SFW+NSFW Headcanons…

…and quotes I found that I believe fit him. With a lil chunk of comforting fluff at the end cause the quotes are sad.

(Just a reminder that these are my personal headcanons for him. Be respectful please.)

Quotes:

SFW

- I don’t think Simon as a person is as ruthless and cold as people make him out to be. He cares a lot about the people around him and locks in when necessary. He may be wary of people when he first meets them, but with the right amount of time and good conversation, he’d definitely be a good companion.

- He keeps work separate from his personal life. The way I see it, him wearing a mask on the field is to preserve his identity and to strike fear into enemies with the skull, like it had been done for him. He doesn’t wear a mask when he’s on leave because he’s Simon then, and people are gonna see him as some random big burly dude, not a soldier when he’s just walking the street.

- I’d say he would like some semblance of a normal life outside of work. By normal, I mean being able to have relationships, maybe get married, and after a lot of convincing, maybe have a kid. If he truly was going to stay alone for the rest of his life, there wouldn’t be as much of a need for him to be so secretive about his face (especially with his background). He has nothing to lose outside of the military. Sad to say, but his entire family is dead, and as far as we know lore-wise, all of his friends are dead except for 141.

- He’s confident and cocky. He’s not shy about his looks. He knows he has attractive features, and he definitely knows his capabilities. Simon is also bigger than most men and has a body sculpted by years of military training. He’s not shy about it. I can see him getting touchy about some of his scars just because they remind him of a dark point in his life, but he also reminds himself that he’s survived through them and takes them with a bittersweet feeling.

- Simon has a lot of mental issues and seems like the type of person to want to deal with them alone. If you were his significant other (you’d obviously have to be extremely close with him to get to that point), he’d tell you about his childhood. He talks about his trauma very casually like it never really affected him, but it subconsciously still hurts to think and talk about. He’ll trauma dump to a close friend/significant other and then think, “My life is kinda messed up.” Later on.

- If he suffers from night terrors or any type of sleeping ailments, I don’t believe he’d push his significant other away. He’d probably need a moment to collect himself because he’d be pretty dangerous in situations where he’s in a panic and isn’t thinking straight, but he’d definitely want to either stay close to you or hold you once he’s somewhat calmed down. He doesn’t mind being comforted; it’s just very foreign to him because he didn’t get much of it throughout his life. When he holds you, he likes to remind himself that he does have a piece of his mother in him and he isn’t 100% a monster. The softness he holds in the deepest parts of himself, he automatically associates them as traits passed from his mom.

- Simon is a soft man. He’d be very gentle as a significant other and as a father. He doesn’t yell or ever really raise his voice unless he’s pushed to a point. But he’d never want to be seen as anything similar to his dad.

- Now he may be soft most of the time, but if someone really pushes him, he can be petty and mean. When he gets angry, he doesn’t think and says things he doesn’t mean just to hurt the other person. He wouldn’t be like this towards his children if he had any, but there are definitely times where he’s argued with his significant other and thrown out a low blow. He’s someone that needs a lot of patience.

- A bit contradictory, but he has anger issues and that’s just that. Of course, he’ll keep level as much as possible, and he doesn’t yell often, but he definitely gets upset at a lot of little things. The someone spills a drink on him on accident, he has to take a moment to calm himself. His coat catches on the doorknob, and he’s gripping the wood tightly, just standing there fuming in silence.

- Carries candy in at least one of his pockets. Seems like the type to have a sweet tooth, and he especially falls into it after getting into a relationship or having a family. He used to just eat candies whenever he had a craving for them, but with an s/o or a family, he eats them whenever he feels he needs a cig or a drink. While sugar isn’t that good for you, he’d much prefer having that than dying of lung cancer or falling into addiction like his brother. He also likes baked goods purely for the fact that they have such a potent smell and can give his dreary apartment a comforting feel when he’s alone.

NSFW (you can scroll past this if you don’t want to see these the mini fluff piece is below this I’ll have it titled bold)

-He’s a gentle lover, doesn’t usually go rough unless asked or he’s upset. He likes to take his time when having sex since his work life is very fast-paced and high-stress. After a mission, he’ll want to make love to his s/o, being soft and gentle with his thrusts, enjoying the grip of you around his cock. After the initial soft round, if you're up for another, he’s not against going rougher.

-He doesn't do casual hook-ups often because they usually require him letting someone into his space or him going into an unfamiliar place. He’d do them in his car, bathroom, or generally anywhere that could give him semi-privacy with the person.

-That being said, Simon is not against semi-public sex. He’s not super kinky but is willing to try anything once. He would never do anything that had to do with blood, bodily harm with a weapon of any kind, and scat/piss. Those are super hard no’s for him. The farthest he’d go with ‘bodily harm’ is spanking, but I don’t see him using a belt at all. Besides, his palm is good enough to get the desired effects.

-Simon loves to cum inside. Not because he has a breeding kink, but because he loves watching his cum leak out of your well-used hole. He enjoys seeing your blissed-out face, knowing he’s to blame for your condition.

-He’s a giver more than a receiver. He loves giving you pleasure and often forgets about himself because he just adores your reaction to everything he’s dishing out for you. He doesn’t mind getting sucked off but would much rather eat you out or fuck you than that. He’s not a very selfish lover no matter his mood. It’s always 90% of his attention on you and the rest on himself. Even if you guys are hate-fucking or he’s in a bad mood, he’ll either edge you into oblivion or overstimulate you until you're crying.

-Simon Riley has a big dick; that’s just a fact. He is thick and he’s got good length. I’d say he’s a bit more girth than most men rather than long. He’s a grower and a bit of a shower. When he’s soft, you're gonna assume he’s like around 5.5 inches, but when you get him all riled up, he’ll get to around 6.7 inches.

-With him having been blessed in his nether regions, he does a lot of foreplay. And I mean a lot. He won’t fuck you until you’ve cum at least once and prepped and ready for him to ruin you. He will start with light teasing once he feels he's in the mood. Gets touchier than usual and will start with innocent little touches and kisses before pulling you into his lap.

-He loves doing and getting aftercare. He’ll lay down and settle for a bit after a good romp, but he’ll eventually either get up or let you get up to do some well-deserved sweet and domestic aftercare.

Mini fluff fic:

You shuffled through the kitchen, humming softly to the song playing through your speaker. The sweet aroma of vanilla and cinnamon filled the room, wrapping its scent around everything. Simon was supposed to be back from deployment today, so you wanted to make his favorite dessert as a welcome home gift.

You were so wrapped up in making sure everything was perfect you hadn’t heard keys jingling or the door open. With thoughts consumed, a yelp doesn’t fail to leave your lips when you turn around, bumping right into your husband's chest.

“Do I need to buy you a hearing aid, love?” Simon questioned, his unmasked face showing his amused expression.

“You are like a mouse when you walk!” You argued, lightly slapping him on the chest before turning back to the oven.

Simon let out a low chuckle and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his chest before resting his chin on your head.

You relaxed into him, leaning your head to the side, inhaling his cologne. Simon leaned down, pressing his scarred lips to your neck, mumbling something incoherent into your skin.

You squirmed in his hold, feeling ticklish as a small smile appeared on his face. “Simon, the cinnamon rolls are gonna burn.” Your words fell on deaf ears as Simon swayed you along to the music, saying nothing and just feeling you.

His fingers teased under your shirt and lightly gripped onto the skin of your hips, a soft sigh sliding from his lips as he relaxed.

The two of you stood there for a couple of minutes, just swaying softly, enjoying each other's presence before he reluctantly pulled away, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

“You need any help with the rolls, hun?” He asked, looking at the golden brown cinnamon rolls in the oven. “When I take them out, you can help me with the icing,” you said, grabbing the bowl with the unfinished icing in it. Simon smiled and took the bowl from you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before going over to the mixer…

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intrulogical · 7 months

Text

remus isn't dumb; a sanders sides essay

i've been struggling to make a cohesive post about this because i feel like most of what i want to say boils down to the same underlying message which is: remus isn't dumb.

i feel like a good chunk of this fandom understands what i mean, at least to a surface level point. but even then, i think too much of the fandom still misinterprets remus' character in a way that, they seem to understand different traits of his, but the way they execute it is still way off from what we see in canon.

(rest of the essay under the cut!)

for example, the biggest thing i see people get wrong would be the way they write remus "lol random" personality. it's true that remus tends to say whatever he wants at any given moment. but, the problem here is that people tend to think remus as random in function. i have no better way to describe this succinctly, so to expound: while remus tends to make left-field jokes a lot, he is shown to be incredibly deliberate, cunning, committed, and intelligent in very subtle ways.

truth is, remus is very goal-oriented, and when he has a goal, oh he strives for that goal. so far, i'm writing this with the last 5 years episode being the most recent substantial episode, so i can't really 100% say all my assumptions of remus are true. actually, i think the upcoming season finale will be the missing link when it comes to providing us with the whole picture of who remus is.

as for now, i just have to stick with my theory of; remus, as a side of thomas' heavily connected to insecurities and mental health issues, intends to shed light on the "darker" sides of thomas because he believes them to be beneficial. throughout dwit, we see remus continuously bolster the idea that his contributions are useful for thomas. this continues in wtit, but with the extra layer of remus wanting logan as well to be in touch with the darker parts of himself to get thomas in line.

it is also heavily implied that remus is well in on whatever janus' plan is to get thomas to be a.) more aware of his mental health issues, and b.) to get thomas to break out of his catholic black and white thinking. in forbidden fruit, it's janus who’s seen permitting remus to present himself to thomas. bigger evidence though, as i've mentioned in the previous paragraph, is the way remus seems to deliberately want logan to manifest his anger against thomas.

of course, we can always say that remus taunted logan "just for fun", but i feel like too much of what happened in wtit seem to point to remus having deeper reasons. for example, wtit exhibits how bad thomas' mental health is to the point that he gets irrationally angry at nico for not replying to his texts. this proves how thomas has been neglecting his mental health, and with the way patton, virgil, and roman held onto toxic selfless ideologies for the longest time, thomas would still, naturally, be lost on what to do. he would even seem to deny how bad things have gotten, especially with the way he acts like nothing bad is happening when he goes to his date with nico.

why am i emphasizing this? well, it's because something i find interesting about remus' character is how deeply cognizant he is of thomas' problems. what i mean by this is, no other side can call out thomas' issues more than remus can. i wrote an essay about this before if you want to check this out, but tldr: remus, as intrusive thoughts, is the most perceptive out of all the sides when it comes to calling out insecurities or problems. we see this come to fruition in wtit when all of the traps he laid out for thomas involved nico in some capacity.

while you can interpret his character as evil for preying on others’ insecurities, i think it's important to acknowledge that, in a sea of people who tend to refuse to talk about their issues, remus is the main guy who constantly brings them to the table. whether remus' intentions are good or not, there's no denying that remus' importance as a side lies in the fact that he serves as a mental health alarm clock for thomas. with the way none of the sides want to communicate with each other, we need someone like remus to cut the bullshit and say things as it is.

again, we don't really know if he wants to help thomas. but i would like to emphasize that, yes, remus is not dumb. he does not merely make lewd jokes and calls it a day. he has the long-term goal of making everyone talk about more "taboo" topics with each other, and this includes talking about personal grievances the sides tend to suppress or refuse to talk about. lewd jokes are just part of the process.

i think this goal of his is also incredibly visible with the way remus treated logan in wtit. wtit is my favorite sanders sides episode because there's just so much to analyze between remus and logan, but you can check my other essays in regards to that. the main thing i wanted to point out is that what remus says to logan in the end, "woowee logan, now you're speaking my language. but who do you really want to scream that at?", proves he is more deliberate and cunning than he seems.

a lovely bit of analysis my friend orb (@orbmanson7) provided is that remus didn't just pop up in wtit to intervene with thomas' plans. he was there to intervene with logan's. if you've seen my other essays, i've talked about how logan as a side has been dwindling in terms of self-confidence and assertion. this has left a big problem of thomas being more reliant on his emotions, making him ignore the suggestions given by logan that may help with thomas' mental health in the long run. this is not to villainize thomas' mental health crisis, btw. all i want to say is that, remus recognizes how logan's self-restriction is doing no good and deliberately wants to push logan to become more assertive and angry.

that is why he says logan is speaking his language. he wants logan to recognize the merit in the way remus grabs thomas' attention. he wants logan to be like him and cause more havoc. again, we never know how much remus genuinely wants to help thomas, but we know that remus wants everyone to be more exposed to "taboo" things, and this includes logan being more in touch with his angrier side.

besides that, i'd like to mention how, in general, remus tends to be very committed to his goals more than how the fandom typically portrays him? in dwit, remus' main goal was to disturb thomas and the other sides. it's kind of just an introduction to his character. we're not sure if it's part of a bigger plan he and janus devised to get thomas to take care of himself better, but it is a possibility. the only time he gets too random is when logan begins picking apart his arguments. there we see remus only results to super left-field, continuous off-tangent jokes when he's desperate or placed in a lose-lose situation.

another, in wtit, we see how remus understands how to make very long, complicated traps. i think it's a perfect encapsulation of his personality, actually! throughout the episode, we see him make these multilayered traps with a ton of props and preparation just so he can bother thomas with it. it shows that remus is actually less impulsive-oriented as he seems. he even created a schedule he showed to logan detailing everything he wanted to do that day. again, deliberate! he is deliberate and very smart!

other thing i'd like to harken back to is the idea that he's in cahoots with the other dark sides to execute some Big Plan to break thomas out of his black and white thinking. while we don't know how orange acts like yet, we're Very familiar with janus by this point and we can see how long-drawn janus' plan of acceptance is. he's, again, sorry to use the word so many times, very deliberate. i don't even think his plan ends with svs.r, because it does seem like remus is well in on this plan too. in the 5 years video, he also seems to know more than thomas on what else is to come for the future of sanders sides, which implies he has some plans up his sleeve that no one else knows about. like i said, janus has the goal to break thomas out of his black and white thinking. and so far from what we've seen from remus, he also wants the same!

an important factor of remus' character besides his deliberateness is his general need to subvert what "goodness" means. "good and bad are all made up nonsense," he sings in forbidden fruit. throughout dwit he continuously criticizes everything thomas thinks is good or acceptable. in the 5 years video, he argues about how there's no "correct way of sitting". i think this also proves how remus is important as a side because, while not every single one of his beliefs are morally acceptable, he is still able to pick morality apart in a way the other sides are unable to. also, i just think this proves his character as just. generally smart? he's able to pick apart the status quo and moral philosophies, of course he's smart.

just to pick up on a previous point, remus is scarily perceptive. i mentioned this earlier with how remus is able to pick logan apart, but i'd like to add onto it more since i think a lot of people underestimate how crazily perceptive he is. for one, despite not being too close with a bunch of the other sides, he seems to be able to read their insecurities and play them against them really well. we see it in the way he uses virgil's insecurities of being an ex-dark side against him. we see it in the way he picks on patton and thomas' morality crisis against them. we see it in the way roman describes remus as someone being able to show him things he doesn't like about himself. and most importantly, we see it in the way remus constantly reaps the fact that logan isn't listened to to the point that logan snaps. as intrusive thoughts, remus' job is to see what deepest darkest secrets thomas and the sides suppress and use it against them.

at the moment, we don't really know if remus has any weaknesses, although wtit sort of implies that he himself is also quite irritated by the fact that thomas doesn't listen to him. he does a good way of hiding, though, how much of that problem is genuinely affecting him. it makes me think he's also smart in the way he's able to hide his vulnerabilities and true intentions from the other side. he's silly and goofy and lewd and because of that, everyone thinks he's harmless. the sides think he's unserious, and so does the fandom. but deep down, remus really isn't that stupid.

and LASTLY, when beta reading this essay, orb also mentioned to me about how remus possesses cognitive flexibility in a way roman doesn’t. this isn’t meant to discredit roman of course, but i think it’s important to mention that remus is the side with the least amount of restrictions when it comes to creative liberties. orb mentioned to me how remus is able to connect concepts easily in a way roman doesn’t because remus doesn’t operate under the same self-restrictive mindset. while this obviously would help thomas become more innovative as a creative, i think it’s also important to recognize how much thomas kind of needs it in general. much of the latter half of the series shows thomas dealing with restrictions, especially when it comes to doing good. it would be great benefit for thomas to be able to listen to a side who generally wants to Have a Good Time, and doesn’t abide by rules imposed onto them.

and yes that is my essay on remus 100/10 best character and is not dumb at all. very excited to see him in the finale and i hope y’all’s get your characterizations straight because i need me some good fics

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #remus sanders #my analysis #sanders sides meta

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autisticlancemcclain · 9 months

Text

parts one two three four

———

Lance wants to bolt the second they step out of the castle, but he knows better than that. So he waits, watching them carefully from the windshield (he’s got no better word for it, okay) of the bridge until they’re itty bitty specks. Then he throws on his backpack, grabs his scanner, waves to his pets, and runs in the direction the beast was last seen.

He keeps up a pretty quick pace for a while, not bothering to muffle his footsteps — he doesn’t want to startle the poor thing — and keeps his ears peeled for the sounds of a large animal making its merry way through the woods.

By ‘large’, he means ‘unfathomably gigantic’, because everything on this planet seems to be. Every tree is as wide as four Hunks, and taller than the castle. The various small woodland critters he’s seen running around have been at least the size of Pidge. Idly he wonders how the hell the evolution on this planet even worked, because all the flora and fauna seems to be gigantic, but the people here aren’t much bigger than humans.

He eventually starts to hear the sound of running water, and wastes no time following it. If he’s correct — and he truly thinks he is, as does Coran — this beast will be sitting carefully by the river’s bank, waiting for fish to swim close to it.

See, Lance is almost sure this beast is the planet’s equivalent to a grizzly bear.

And he’s positive it’s injured.

It’s the only thing that makes sense! He did some light research last night, and discovered that the planet is right in the midst of their springtime. He also discovered that, over the winter months, the planet’s city limits had expanded pretty dramatically, cutting into a large chunk of the forest. Lance believes the new city limits bled into the bear’s hunting grounds, and when the bear woke from hibernation in the spring and went looking for food, it ran into the new neighbourhoods. Startled, of course, it got defensive, only further terrorizing the people. Lance thinks that the bear was dazed enough to be hurt by the city’s armies, and now the bear is in pain and full of anger towards the new animals in its territory.

Of course it’s attacking.

Now, if only the team stopped a goddamn second to listen, and I wouldn’t have this problem, Lance thinks to himself, but pushes the thought away just as quickly, scowling to himself.

He forces himself to pause the reflection and save it for later, because it’s not the right time. He’s on a mission. He doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself, let alone have time to be mad at the team.

It’s just as well that Lance pulled himself out of his thoughts, because straight ahead, looking at him warily, is the bear.

And oh, what a beast it is.

The dignitary — not to give him any goddamn credit, the bastard — was barely exaggerating. The bear is huge. It’s definitely not bigger than a castle, sure, but it’s big enough that Lance knows to keep a respectful distance, and right now the bear is sitting. He can’t imagine how scary it would be on a rampage.

For the first time, a tiny tendril of guilt crawls up his spine. The dignitary might be a pompous dick, but Lance is starting to realise that’s coming from a place of genuine fear, for themself and for the people they represented.

(Lance is still not going to kill the bear, obviously. It’s not the bear’s fault that it’s scary. But Lance is willing to admit that he did not handle the situation with the dignitary like an adult, and especially not like a paladin, and probably owes them a bit of an apology.)

“Hey, there,” Lance says softly, slowly swinging off his backpack and setting it down in front of him.

The bear growls in warning.

“I know, I know, you like your space. I’ll stay over here for now.”

Without looking away, Lance crouches down, blindly searching around the bag until his hand wraps around the two objects he’s looking for. He slowly takes them out and carefully sets one of them — a back of Altean-style dehydrated wild berries — on the ground in front of the bag. With his other hand, he pours a steady stream of water on the pouch, and he and the bear both watch as the pile of berries gradually grows in size until it’s the size of Lance himself.

Lance sits next to them, criss-cross-applesauce, with his backpack on his lap.

“These are for you,” he says, tone even. “I figured it might be pretty hard for you to forage or hunt right now. You must be hungry.”

Logically, it should be impossible for the bear to understand him. But it must like his tone, because slowly — ever so slowly — it uncurls, keeping a careful eye on Lance as it limps over to him and the berries next to him.

Its legs are the size of Earthen tree trunks. Its head alone is bigger than Lance. Its teeth —visible now that its mouth is open, tongue hanging out, salivating in anticipation of the wonderfully juicy berries — are sharper than any razor.

Lance should be afraid.

He’s not.

“Oh, you’re a beautiful thing,” he coos as the bear leans forward and takes a tentative bite from the pile.

The bear side-eyes him — a look that so clearly says ‘bitch, please’ that Lance can’t help his laugh.

“And you take no shit, huh?”

The bear grunts, apparently deciding the berries are safe, and then digs the hell in. It devours the pile so quickly that it’s there in one second and gone in the next.

Once the pile is finished, the bear turns to look at Lance expectantly.

Lance holds his hands up. “I got nothing!”

The bear huffs — no, really — and ambles closer to Lance. It lowers its great head down, and with a nose bigger than Lance’s head, starts sniffing Lance’s backpack for more.

Lance laughs again. “There’s nothing in there, you silly creature. No food, anyway.”

The bear finally decides he’s telling the truth — or, more likely, doesn’t smell any more food — and flops to the ground, looking to Lance in what he can only describe as petulance.

“I have no more food,” Lance says again. He reaches out hesitantly, slowly, and carefully rests his hand in between the bear's cute little ears when it makes no move to stop him. “But I might have more help for you, though.”

The bear rumbles. Lance takes this as an indication to continue.

“I noticed you were limping. Your front right leg. You’ve got some matted blood on there, too. If you’ll let me, I can clean that wound, stitch it right up, and you’ll be as good as new. That sound okay?”

The bear doesn’t make any more noise, but it does flop over on its side, leaving its right side up for access.

Lance takes a deep breath.

“Okay, big guy. Let me fix you up.”

He gathers up his bag and walks over to the wounded leg in question. He inspects it, but can’t really see the wound under all the blood.

“I’m going to clean it first, okay? I’ll get some river water first. That’ll be better than antiseptic.”

The bear grunts.

Lance grabs a clean cloth out of his bag — really, it’s a queen-sized sheet, but in comparison to the bear looks as small as the tiniest of rags — and soaks it in the frigid river, ringing it out as best as he can with his tiny human hands.

He walks back over to the bear and begins gently wiping away the nasty, coagulated blood from matted fur. It takes a while, but he’s eventually able to see the wound.

He does not like what he sees.

The wound starts cleanly, like it was a cut, but then looks torn, like the flesh was ripped. Lance isn’t sure what weapon may have caused it — that’s more of Keith’s thing — but knows it was certainly no natural cause.

“I’m going to need to apply quite a bit of antiseptic,” he tells the bear, even though the bear most certainly does not know what that is. “It’s going to hurt, but I need to do it, because it already looks a little bit infected.”

He opens his massive tub of antiseptic and holds it out for the bear to sniff. Its giant nose wrinkles, and then it looks pained, but it carefully lays its head back down on the ground and tenses its muscles.

Lance takes that as permission.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” Lance babbles as he pours the horrible chemical over the wound and the bear roars in agony. “I know, I know. I know. It’s okay. Let it out. It’s done, now, once the sting fades.”

The sting must fade eventually, because the bear quiets, although it breathes heavily and remains tense.

“It’s okay,” Lance whispers, petting the first patch of uninjured fur he can reach. “It’s alright. The worst part is over, okay? That hurt so bad that you’ll barely even feel the stitches, okay? Just the smallest pinch.”

The bear whines, high and long, and Lance bites back tears.

This could all be avoided if people just used some compassion, for fuck’s sake.

He closes his eyes and swallows roughly. That’s not fair. It’s unlikely that anyone meant for this to happen, and it’s unfair for Lance to blame people. Sometimes life just sucks.

But it’s his job as a paladin to make it suck marginally less, and by God, he is going to do his job.

“Ready for the stitches, big guy? It’s the second-to-last step.”

Lance reaches into his back again and digs out the absolutely giant suture needle, so big it’s basically a weapon, and the beast-sized sutures. He gets to work carefully stitching up the wound, applying every ounce of Abuela’s sewing lessons into his furrowed brow and steady hands.

It takes a while, but eventually the wound is closed up neatly.

“Almost done,” Lance assures the bear. It makes an almost purring noise in response, which makes Lance beam in delight.

He takes two last things from his pack — some Altean antibiotic numbing ointment, and a mummy’s amount of bandages.

“This’ll be cold,” he warns, before spreading a generous amount of the ointment onto the wound. The bear audibly sighs in relief, slumping further into the ground as its muscles finally un-tense.

Lastly, Lance carefully wraps the wound in the bandages until it’s completely covered, then stands back, hands on his hips, to access his patch job.

“I think you look okay!” he says with a grin. “Try standing.”

The bear gets up using its three unharmed legs, then gingerly applies weight to the injured one once it’s balanced.

It blinks.

It applies more weight.

Suddenly it roars, in delight this time, and ducks its head to nudge Lance gently in thanks. Lance laughs, petting the creature everywhere he can reach.

“You’re welcome!” The bear makes that almost-purr noise again, and Lance sighs. “Now all we gotta do is convince this whole damn planet that you’re a big, giant softie.”

The bear pulls its head away, making Lance pout, and stares at him for a moment.

“What? You have any bright ideas? I, unfortunately, did not plan this far. I kinda thought something would come to me on the way.”

The bear grunts. Then it opens its great jaw, reaching for Lance, but it doesn’t eat him — it carefully hooks Lance’s hoodie in its teeth, lifts him up, and tosses him gently on its back.

Lance blinks.

“Well this is a — development.”

The bear grunts again, pawing at the ground. It starts off down the river, but not in the direction where Lance assumed its cave to be.

It’s headed to the city.

“What’re you — oh,” Lance cries, and is a little embarrassed to be outfoxed by a bear.

“That’s a great idea! If the people see you treating me gently, then won’t be so scared, and I’ll be able to explain. You’re so smart!”

If Lance didn’t know better, he’d think the bear seemed smug.

But he does know better, so he gets comfortable, organizes his pack, and starts planning what he’s going to say to make this whole crisis blow over.

#INTRODUCINF THE BEAST #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #klance #pre klance #original animal character #team as family #lance is good with animals #langst #smart lance #bamf lance #longpost #my writing #lance is a disney princess #fic

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waxingrunes · 4 months

Note

i’m sure you get plenty of asks like these when you receive the shit about bottom remus and top sirius, but i still wanted to send it.

i think the way people continuously have been giving you and others shit for liking a big remus/small sirius or, dom remus/sub sirius dynamic is silly. i’m not deep in this fandom, i enjoy from a distance but it’s rare i see “your side” (for lack of a better phrase) give the other shit like they give you. who fucking cares. personally, i enjoy a bigger, dominant remus, and a smaller, submissive sirius. if i come across art or a fic where remus is subbed out and crying will i be interested? probably not. will i give the creator shit? absolutely not. why? because these people are NOT REAL. this is fiction! and it’s THEIR work. if you want a submissive remus, find a creator that makes that and enjoy their content! don’t try to fucking force a creator who doesn’t do that to switch their style for you or a little subsection of the internet. personally, i don’t believe there’s any harm in a request, but if the creator declines, respect that and move on. don’t hate on their content in a little discord group.

people have their preferences, and at the end of the day we’re all just perverted (a good chunk of us at least) nerds that like dead gay wizards. everyone should just be able to enjoy what they want to enjoy, and let others do the same. there are bigger issues in the world than the size of remus lupin’s dick or whether or not he should be calling sirius daddy. enjoy what you want to enjoy, let people create what they want to create. who fucking cares.

sorry for the rant. rarely scroll along on here and coming across all the shit you’ve been getting irked me and i needed to comment. just know you have plenty of people supporting you making whatever fucking content you want to create. we’re all just happy to see whatever work you give us, you’re talented and that talent is not wasted in the slightest.

Fuck, thank you. You and all the others (I was a bit overwhelmed coming back to all the asks you glorious bunch) have my heart. Happy to be floating around in the relaxed side of the fandom that endorses liking what you want to like. Seek out what does it for you and enjoy it, smear it all over your feeds, eat it for all your meals I don’t care. Online is not fucking real and folk need to let go some of this anger over people busting their nut to something fictional they don’t like.

Also, I’m a big time pervert and love my boys how I love my boys. Big soft boy Remus and smaller smart mouthed Sirius will always be my visual brand, no matter their positions in the bedroom.

My life is busy and full offline so I’ve been lacking in engagement here. Generally, I don’t do well keeping up with social things, I barely scroll anymore, I just like to draw and churn out my boys when my brain gets tickled. But thank you to all the people who have sent me messages, I read all of them just won’t be clogging up my followers feed with all your love because that’s obnoxious and GOOEY.

#ask #this was said so well #ns

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ghouljams · 5 months

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I don't know why but I'm cackling at the idea of ghost and hush throwin' down, getting full on mean with eachother, before devolving into fucking followed by the post orgasmic come down. In which Hush or Ghost turns to the other and says, "still hate you though," and just going off to join the cuddle puddle that is die and soap.

Though I wonder how demon!price and Captain Price think about the whole messy situation. Especially since Ghost has already upset Die once. I could also see Ghost having conflicted feelings about the dynamic he has with Hush. Kinda like he has with Die, except you know he likes die. Is one of the reason hush hates ghost is because ghost hurt die?

-hot mess rambler

Oh Thank GOD I get to write sparring, thank you for giving me an in to writing fights. I desperately love writing physicality like this, I think about it while I'm in the gym.

The main reason Hush dislikes Ghost is because he hurt Die. That's reason number 1. Reason number 2 is because Soap likes Ghost and it feels to Hush like Ghost is moving in on his territory. Which coincidentally is one of the reasons why Ghost doesn't like Hush (Hush likes Soap, moving in on Ghost's territory. Also Die likes Hush which again, territory) The Prices are getting real close to putting shock collars on the two of them and giving them a zap when they start snapping at each other. Demon!Price thinks they should be allowed to fight it out as long as it doesn't hurt team moral, Capt. Price thinks they both need to sit down and cool off before someone gets hurt.

Anyway.... Sparring.....

It just boils your blood to see Ghost acting like normal. His shadow sits dead at his feet, one of the other nearby shades twitching unsure of where to settle. Does he even notice? Does he even care? He tapes his hands carefully, around the wrist, over his thumb, knuckles, between each finger, around and around with practiced ease. You don't bother checking with Soap before walking over to him.

Ghost looks up from his seat on the bench, his eyes narrow behind his mask. As if you'd be intimidated by that chunk of plastic. You tip your head to look down at him, on him, really enforce your annoyance with his whole thing. Soap groans behind you.

"Somethin' I can help you with Lieutenant?" Ghost growls, his voice a low warning. You don't pay his showboating any mind. You've seen bigger and meaner fucks than him in Hell, and you won't be intimidated. You cross your arms over your chest.

"You could pick on someone your own size," You offer. You don't bother stepping back as he stands, letting him measure up against you. He's a big fuck, you'll give him that, but you can look him in the eye without flinching. His glare feels a little more icy when it looks at you in the shadow of his mask.

"That right?" Another warning. You stand your ground, watching Ghost cock his head to the side. "You offerin' then? Want me to pick on you instead?"

You drag your tongue along your teeth, look around the gym. "Don't see anyone else staring down your mug, so I must be."

Ghost's mouth works behind his mask, the fabric moving with annoyance. "Ring," He barks, "now."

You ignore Soap's protests, most of them directed at Ghost. Bastard, who's side is he on anyway? You duck under the ropes and into the padded ring in the center of the gym. It's not every day you get to stretch your muscles like this, what a treat that you also get to fuck up the guy that hurt your friend. You'll try not to leave any permanent scars.

"Bet you're the sort of guy that relies on your reach," You goad, rolling your shoulders back and sliding your feet into stance.

"You ever shut the fuck up?" Ghost replies, settling into his own position.

You don't bother answering, more focused on the shift in his center of gravity. Ghost leans back when you throw your first punch, clearly expecting you to make the first more. Probably expecting your anger to cloud your judgement at well. Doesn't matter you throw another from the same side, and when he goes to block it you shift your weight and slam your leg against his side. Your shin connecting with his ribs hard. He lets out a pained breath and you feel the warm slide of his glare down your spine. You raise your brows. What? Did he think you were just fucking around? Or that you'd flail like a wild animal? No, you're trained for this the same as he is.

The air shifts and Ghost launches into action, his fist flying towards you. You step back, feign around the barrage. He keeps pushing you back towards the ropes, grabbing for your tee when your back hits them. You drop low to avoid it and thrust your elbow up against his. Another pained hiss at the collision, this time from both of you. It buys you half a second to slip around him and out of the corner. You spin to kick him again and he grabs your ankle.

"What was that about reach?" He asks, goading you, before pulling your leg. He's trying to off balance you, throwing another punch as you're jerked forward. You raise your arms to shield your face and feel his meaty fist connect hard. Shit, he hits like a ton of bricks. You grab for him and he lets go of your leg to step out of reach.

Ok, reconsidering your options. He's a boxer, fine, let's see if he's any decent grappling.

Ghost’s fist comes towards you again, you feign to the side, grabbing his wrist with one hand and hooking your other under his arm to grip his shoulder. The momentum of the jab helps you twist to flip him over your shoulders and onto the mat. Surprise lights up his eyes, you ignore the warmth that settles in your stomach and keep a tight hold on his arm, following Ghost to the ground.

As soon as your back hits the floor you bring your hips up, flipping over Ghost's arm to hook your thigh across his chest in hopes of pinning his free arm. It seems to work for a moment. You grin down at him, satisfied you've pinned him. The answering heat in Ghost’s stare makes your blood run hot, the deep growl under your hold is intoxicating and distracting enough that you don’t notice his hand hook over your thigh to grab your neck.

The change in position is fast. Ghost grabs your neck, pulling you to the side, his other arm lifting to leverage you towards his pull. His previously pinned arm hooks under your left leg, swinging it over his head to force you face down against the floor. One of his hands presses against the back of your neck, while the other grabs your arm to twist behind your back. His hips push heavy against your ass as he leans his weight against you.

It's not the only thing leaning against you. You freeze, feeling his thick hard cock pushing against your ass. It's brief, before Ghost nearly flies away from you.

"Die," He hardly seems out of breath, he isn't looking at you. The shadows collect by his side, a pair of horns and apologetic eyes floating like an alligator in the depths of them. Ghost reaches a hand out, as if to pet the demon next to him before reconsidering. He closes his fingers into a tight fist. "Make sure your boyfriend didn't hurt himself." He tells her instead. You snap at him, bare your teeth with a growl. He ignores you.

Probably for the best. You- you actually don't know what you'd say to him if he did talk to you right now. The only thing you can think of with any coherence is: "Come back and finish the job."

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til-f · 3 months

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PJO Show Thoughts. Episode 7: We find out the truth (not)

Alright. I just don't even know. I thought the pacing was marginally better here. Scenes flowed nicer. And I thought the dialogue wasn't so useless.

Yay!!!! Crusty scene!!!!!!

Literally right off the fucking BAT, the first words in the episode are percy explaining exactly what's going to happen, who crusty is, no shenanigans, no mystery, no fun villain scene, nothing. oh my FUCKING GOD, it's every good scene THEY RUIN IT its CRAZY. ACTUALLY CRAZY.

It's the same shit every episode. Oh, fun monster scene where the monster tries to trick them and the fight builds while we figure out who the monster is???? NOPE!!! it's actually complete bullshit. it's ridiculous. where's rick????

Okay I see the red ball. yay!

I'll live with the plot changes even though it sucks. I'll live with it. it's just bad show writing that i'm annoyed with now.

OH MY GOD WHY IS SALLY SUCH A BITCH !!! lolollollL

I did miss the scene were percy bribes charon to let them pass. why change that. why take out a fun bit like that. instead they're like, take everything charon!!! we're so stupid, just let us into the underworld so I can save my mom !!!!!

The cerberus scene was way more complicated than it needed to be lol. but I think the underworld was cool

Back to 3 pearls.... I think rick is just trying to annoy us now.

I do like the flashbacks. My dumbass is just hoping that it all transitions very beautifully into percy's fallen hero arc but these are just my dumb dreams !!!!!!

So annabeth is gone? okay

The root/regret/ thing was completely unnecessary psychology that was stupid

The tartarus, shoe bit was good

"is this our stop, or?" LOL

Hades is weird and awkward and way to cheerful. this god is supposed to be a scorned, jaded ass, lazy, arrogant, bastard, dripping with grease and jealousy and grudges.

DID YALL SEE WHERE HADES WAS LIKE, FOLDING LAUNDRY??? LMAO WHAT

Hades sucks

I just wanted the line, "I'll find your helm, Uncle. I'll return it." nope!!

I guess hades is offering to protect them? because there's going to be a war with kronos and he wants the master bolt for protection ?????? SLOW YOUR ROLL WRITERS. WE'RE NOT FUCKING THERE YET. EVEN WHEN THE WAR WAS A C T I V E L Y occuring hades didn't give a FUCK. whatever. now i'm anger. plus, nothing about how hades sent the furies.... it didn't seem like hades thought percy stole his helm, which was like,,,,, teh whole ass point. jesus christ

Poseidon is meh

Sally is meh

I guess their convo was fine, i didn't mind it. I liked when poseidon was saying that he'll be there for percy, when he knows who he is. Which is cool, even though who percy should "be" is very different to sally. I can't wrap my brain around what the writers want me to be thinking, you know?

no mention again of how they're past the solstice deadline??? you'd think that would have been a bigger deal but OKAY

ares is the best god by far at this point

overall, I really shouldn't be spending so much of my limited free time writing these long posts about the episodes, when I have been getting well, not a whole lot of pleasure watching them. but these characters are still my babies, and I will continue to support the making of the show even though it's blowing chunks. Rick

See yall next week for episode 8: Where's the Damn Fishing Chair Throne

#pjo show #pjo show crit #percy jackson #meta

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fandom-imagination-ss · 1 year

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IMAGINE: Derek hale destroying your tire so you can't leave Mid fight

You and Derek rarely have fights.

Not since you graduated high school and told Scott and his pack to Suck it.

Between your cousin Scott lying to you for years about the werewolf thing, being shot in my shoulder by Stiles / Void Stiles by an Arrow. And getting No explanation for it. No one told you what he'll be going on. Until Peter mentioned it and Derek tried to shield you from the truth. It only made you mad. So when Graduated you just left no goodbyes nothing.

But time changes a person, you Forgave your cousin, his hot best friend Stiles, and when Life gave you a curve ball and you returned to Beacon Hill. you gladly became friends with Malia and Started Dating Derek.

the Fight was Stupid. It wasn’t an Earth-shattering Fight, it was a simple Stupid Fight. Derek Forgot about your Dinner date. that you were looking forward to all week. because he was so focused On work fixing a Fancy car. the Idiot who brought in the classic Car. had the Brilliant Idea that if he put Painters’ tape throughout the Entire Car. covering Every Inch of the Car it would protect the paint job... Between the Heat of the Sun beating down on the moving car. and the fact. he used cheap ass painter’s tape. he destroyed the car.. the tape he started peeling off. and took Large chunks of the paint.

Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal that Derek forgot about Date night. bot after the week of hell you dealt with your co-workers. your boss putting a pass at you. again. and you have to file another report to HR. who just swept it under the Rug and then dealt with Eli. Stealing the Jeep Again for the fifth time. this month, and to Top it all off you were Late... you only realized it today once you were getting ready for date night that you weren’t just a little late. you were 3 weeks late. your Plan was to have a wonderful Date night with your man. Slip off to the pharmacy to snag a pregnancy test and hope along and take it. in the store. because you knew. that Derek and Eli would find it at home. That was your Mission for the night. But Derek came home covered in Grease complaining about how the painter taped around the exhaust pipe that the idiot put on. burnt the pipe. and that led to discovering the Oil was leaking and it was a bigger task than he expected. you stood wearing your summer dress with a jean jacket as he looked at you stunned, “why are you dressed all cute?”

“Date night?’

Derek rubbed his face as he spoke, ‘rain check? I’m exhausted?” he walked over kissing your head as he suggested ordering a Pizza instead as you called him a butthead. and grabbed your keys and decided you would go to Walgreens and Skip Part 1 of your plans. and go straight to getting the Test. you were sitting in your car at a Red light. the road was empty. as the light turned green. your Car jumped. but didn’t move. you quickly turned to see Derek standing behind your car. as he’s claws were slowly going back to normal. your jaw dropped as you quickly un did your seatbelt as you shot out. seeing he sliced your back seat driver side tire.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND!” Screaming you walked over lookign at your tire it was ruined no fixing it. you would have to replace it complete.y “My Car!”

‘you don’t get to just Leave!” Derek was trying to contain his anger as you looked up at him.

“I was coming right Back after I hit Walgreen you Jack ass!”

‘you called me Butthead!”

your anger was sidetracked at hearing the hurt ins his voice hearing him say that as you blinked stunned, “I’ve called you So much worst! your fixing this!’ Derek crossed his arms tightly as he snapped, “the last time you called me a butt head you disappeared for three years! you don’t get to just leave because I forgot date night!”

“I was just going to Walgreens! I wasn’t Leaving! I stormed off yes but I intended to COME BACK!” you groaned as he spoke, ‘what was so important that you needed to go to Walgreen you sick?’

“No. I just- needed.. female products.”

A pregnancy test counts don’t it? you hoped he couldn’t tell the difference as he stared at you, “I’ll fix your car. and we can go-”

you shook your head as you crossed your arms, “you can fix my car, and we Can go home! and we are getting burgers. and im getting a milkshake and we are going to watch whatever i want! I can’t believe you Jump from Butthead to me Running off? where would I go? your my Heart!”

Derek sighed heavily as he spoke, “it was Rough the first time you left.. you just called me a fucking Butthead and then you were gone i didn’t even get to know hwere you were”

“Derek- to be fair.. we weren’t close back then you kept your distance.- I would Never leave you.. if i leave you- i’m taking you with me. i’ll stuff you into my trunk- your stuck with me forever.”

he nodded his head stepping over as he cupped your head softly, “im sorry - I overreacted and broke your Car.”

you nodded your head, “Sorry I called you a butthead and stormed off I just- it’s been a rough week.. and I was looking forward to just you and me time.” he sighed heavily soothing your hair, ‘you did look beautiful. you do look beautiful, lets get this car fixed and go have a date.” you smiled weakly as you spoke, “by the time you fix the tire, i’ll be passed beauitful and want to go home.. Lets just fix it. and go home. and order in.” he nodded his head saying okay kissing your lips as he pulled back as you helped him take your tire off, and use your replacement. that he forced you to have in your trunk. when the car was fixed you kissed him and said you would meet him at home as you drove to Walgreens.

you only ever taken a pregnancy test Once, when you were in university. your roommate was worried about taking one so you took one with her. you weren’t pregnant. you weren’t at all in danger of having a bun in the oven. but Now? Now you were in a relationship with a guy who looks like the Greek Gods carved out out of marble! your relationship was at the ‘honeymood” stage... bene together for almost six years. and your “Fun time” was Very much Healthy Relationship. and Sure.. Sometimes you both get caught in the moment and forgot to be smart. and responsible!

Which as you stood at the walgreens counter paying for your Pregnancy Test yo were shocked you were here. buying a test. Sure Rationally you knew, you weren’t excatly “Safe’ 100% of the time.. especially lately. But it still surprised you. you were just paying when Derek came in. and caught sight of you instantly. he’s eyes grew large seeing you holding pregnancy box as he fainted.

Nothing could perpare you for seeing your boyfriend. falling forward completely passed out in shock as you bolted over to him as you rubbed his arm trying to wake him. he woke up instantly as he looked at you as he spoke, ‘your pregnate?”

you shook your head, ‘no- well I mean.. I dont kow..”

“were you going to tell me?”

“yea.. after i took the test.. I didn’t- I didn’t think taking the test at home would be a good idea..”

Derek got to his feet as you helped him as he spoke, “why not?’

“Derek I was hoping to surprise you with the news.” he rubbed his face as he spoke, ‘okay.... Lets go take it.”

“What?” he grabbed the box as he spoke, ‘come on. they have a public bathroom.’

you laughed but was shocked as he picked you up as you gasped he hosted you over his shoulder as you gasped loudly. as he headed to the bathrooms. getitng itno the womens bathroom he went to the wheelchair accessable stall and put you down as he spoke, “here you go.”

he handed the box to you as you spoke, ‘thanks..... we never talked about babies..”

he nodded his head as he spoke, “I would Love- if you aren’t pregnate.. can we have a baby?”

you couldn’t help but smile at the way he asked as if he was asking for a puppy. “you want a baby?” he nodded his head, “I want to have a baby with you. i want our family to grow. I always wanted a big family. you want kids. we talked about this.”

‘yea- Like on our first date! Derek!”

“is it cause we aren’t married yet? Because i’ll pospose right here and we can elope oyu never wanted a big fuss of a wedding!” you couldn’t help but smile. you shook your head fast.

“as much as getting postpose to in the bathroom. is intoxicating. can we pick another time to ask me.. Like when we aren’t in a public bathroom?”

he sighed heavily as he stepped over, “just- can you pee on the stick? I want to know.”

you chuckled as you spoke, “well- leave the stall and I’ll do the test.”

“can’t i stay?” you laughed as you shook your head, “No sicko go!” he grinned slippng out as he closed the stall door as he stayed in the bathroom. you rolled your eyes. Even if he went outside he would still listen in. that’s the problem with having a wereowlf boyfriend. you did what the test required as you walked out. ‘would- it be 50/50 if it’s like you or me right?”

“yea why? does it matter?”

“well Yea! if im gonna nurse i dont want my bits bite off! Oh my god! what if i ahve the baby on a full moon! Derek! does it matter? what if-” derek stopped your rambling as he cupped your face softly, “I would be right there to help, and it wouldn’t be like that. just a little babe. and the powers awaken later.” you nodded your head relieved to that as he spoke, ‘So you would want it?”

you nodded your head softly, “A Chance to see you with daughters. Hell yea.”

he chuckled softly as he spoke, “not a boy?”

“Nope a girl.” he smiled to that as you reached up cupping his face kissing him. when the 2 minutes were up. it was your time to faint. as Derek caught you. you were infact. pregnant.

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #derek hale #derek hale imagine #fandom #fandom imagine #imagine #fluffy #TW #TW imagine

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olderthannetfic · 13 days

Note

https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/747425743348400128/i-made-the-mistake-of-looking-up-xiran-jay-zhaos#notes

Shoulda looked up the twitter, that one's a seeming constant barrage of intensity, sprinkled with self-righteousness and the occasional hitting of completely random "nobodies" for nothing but pleasure it seems.

Also, "always had a bit of a bully personality" honestly, that's beautifully said ONTF. I stopped watching them at some point because something gave me a massive fucking ick in the way they carried themselves, and thinking it through it's exactly that. I was bullied in my youth, I fought back, and that helped, but the scars stay. XJZ seems to almost revel in it when they get to "call" someone out, with a lot of self righteous anger. They don't really seem able to conceive that they're wrong, or they way they say things could be bad in any way, everyone else is wrong.

When it's someone like CaiCor who is did something incredibly heinous, you don't notice it. But when you see how much they seem to love having their followers dogpile people for not agreeing with them or some other petty shit, (who can't handle it) it just gets perverse. Someone lying about your work, should not constitute making your thousands of followers potentially following and harassing that person. And I doubt XJZ doesn't understand it, and doesn't revel in the thought of it, with how often they've posted random tiny accounts and "complained" about them.

Persoanlly, I avoid their twitter like the plague, sans the last time this was a discussion+for this ask, and anyone in affiliated. Sure it's cut out a large chunk of writers who get affiliated through publishing marketing, which is a pity. But from experience, people who stand by a bully either don't care to be against it or might be bullies themselves. And if it takes an even bigger bully, like CaiCor to make the other bully look nicer or more righteous, then that still doesn't make you a good person.

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mingibug · 3 months

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Don’t Piss Me Off

Non-Idol!Xiaojun x Afab!Reader

You and Xiaojun are going through a rough patch, making the tension in the apartment you share unbearable. Unfortunately for you, Xiaojun only knows how to make the situation worse.

Warnings; Light Angst for plot, Arguing, Switch!Xiaojun, Switch!Reader, Reader is mostly dom in this, there is no use of Y/N, Xiaojun calls reader goddess in this lol, horny fight!! Horny fight!!!, unprotected sex (if you like that be safe out there), creampies.

Notes; this is something I posted on my AO3 account, I just wanted to post it here as well.🫶🏾

Tensions were high in shared apartment, you and Dejun were giving each other the silent treatment. A small playful argument turned into something bigger, causing the two of you to distance yourself from each other.

When you went in the living room to look for a book you had left in there, you saw the other sitting on the couch watching TV. You walk by silently, not wanting to make things worse than they already are. Unfortunately, that didn’t work, as you heard Dejun mutter something under his breath.

“Did you say something?” You question him, without looking at him. You try to be as calm as possible, holding yourself back.

“I asked ‘is it so hard to say hello’ but clearly you just don’t want to hear me” he snaps with a roll of his eyes.

“Whatever, man.” You go back to looking for your book when he scoffs at you. It’s like he wants to start something with you.

“The fuck do you want from me, Dejun?!” You snap, standing up to walk towards him. He stands up too, looking at you with an angered expression.

“I want you to stop acting like a fucking child and get over it!” You look at him in shock.

“Me?! You want me to stop acting like a child?!” You step closer to him “I ask you to do one simple fucking thing and you couldn’t even do that after I asked you so many times!” Your voice gets louder, signaling how frustrated you are.

He chuckles a bit at you, annoyed and tauntingly. “You could’ve did it yourself, princess.”

You stare at him, anger clouding your vision. Not wanting this to go any further, you walk past him, bumping his shoulder on the way. Dejun then grabs your wrist, gripping tight to make you stop in your tracks.

“Let me go, Dejun.” You start calmly. You look at him, watching him wear a smug expression.

“No.” He says with a smile that’s basically taunting you.

You snatch your wrist away only for him to grab it again, pulling you towards him. Bodies pressed together, he looks at you with lust-filled eyes. Eyes tracking down to yours lips.

“You look so pretty when you’re angry, baby.” He begins to lean toward you attempting to kiss you. A surge of adrenaline pulses through you, making you to use your free hand to grab the back of his head, holding onto a big chunk of his hair.

“Who said you were allowed to touch me, Dejun?” Your voice was surprisingly calm.

The boy looked at you with shock, not expecting you to try and fight back. But he doesn’t back down, no, he decided to egg you on.

“Who says I need permission, baby? Since when did I need to ask to touch my pretty girl?” He says, smiling through the dull pain of having his hair pulled.

You didn’t waiver, you just simply stared at him. Planning your next move with a blank expression. You could see his smug expression faltering as you continue to look at him.

“Dejun, do you think you deserve to touch me?” You question him, expression not changing “Did you think that it would be easy to just fuck me after the way you’ve been acting? Good boys get to touch me, not disrespectful ones.” You notice him start to cower, looking everywhere but at you. Thinking you had him, you let go of his hair and snatch your arm away. You begin to walk away again, only this time he begins to follow after you. You allow it, not really caring to engage anymore.

The both of you make it to the bedroom. Dejun shuts the door behind him, holding onto the doorknob for bit to calm down his nerves. Letting go, he turns to see you on the bed, calmly scrolling through your phone.

“What was that back there?” He questions you, voice slightly shaking. You can hear him panting a little bit, but you don’t point it out

You look up at him, your unmoving expression causing him to get weak in the knees.

“What was what, Dejun?”

He looks at you with a slight frown, feeling a strange heat build up in his stomach.

“The shit that you just pulled downstairs.” He asks voice slightly raising.

You stand up walking toward him as he looks at you with an unreadable expression. Is it fear? Arousal? You don’t know nor do you care. You stop in front of him, pressing your body against him.

“What are you asking for, Dejun?” You ask trying to hold your blank expression. The look on his faces makes you want to laugh at him, mocking and taunting him with it. You decide to stay calm and collected though.

He the grabs you by the shoulders, pushing you lightly toward the nearest wall. He then presses his body against yours, trying to intimidate you by crowding your space.

“I’m asking for the reason you tried that shit with me. I trained you better than that didn’t I?” He says, tone low and eyes boring into yours.

You finally break your blank expression with a small smile. It catches him off guard. You place a hand on his chest, beginning to speak in a gentle tone.

“I didn’t try anything, baby.” You look at him with clouded eyes “I just want you to learn your place from now on, but you’re making it very difficult for me.” As you’re speaking, your hand begins to travel lower, making Dejun’s eyes go wide. You stop just above his pelvic area, watching as the boy in front of you become more antsy.

“Why don’t you want to be good for me, baby?” You ask with a slight frown, taunting him with your voice.

He then smashes his lips into yours, pressing himself against you more. Kissing back, you slide your knee between his legs, wanting to see what he would do. You smirk into the kiss as he does what’s expected.

He begins to grind on your knee, panting loudly against your lips.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you, princess.” He says as he pulls away. You smile at him, unfazed.

“You won’t even get to try, pretty boy.”

The new name makes him shudder, you take note of that for later.

You push him off of you, walking toward the bed. You then sit on the edge of the bed, legs spread. The shorts you’re wearing showing the outline of your pussy, making his mouth water at the sight.

“Come here, Dejun.” You call out to him, tone shifting into something darker.

He walks over hesitantly, erecting standing proudly in his sweats. He stands in front of you, seemingly waiting for your next instruction.

“Kneel, baby.” He falls to his knees as soon you command him to. He’s face to face with your heat. Mouth slightly open and ready to do his best to please you.

You then close your legs, pulling off your shorts and tossing them to the side, leaving you in your panties.

Dejun watches as you spread your legs again, revealing the small wet patch on your panties from your arousal.

“You wanna taste me, pretty boy?” You ask looking down at him, his face has turned red as small beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.

He nods frantically, looking up at you with shining eyes.

“Then do it, but don’t take these off” you say, snapping the waist band to emphasize.

He dove into you with your permission, licking and sucking against the fabric. The boy begins to become desperate, shallowly thrusting into the air. The friction from his pants and underwear still being on slowly drives him insane.

You moan lightly at the feeling, becoming dazed at the sight of the boy desperately licking at your clothed core. He moans against you, looking up at you with hooded eyes.

You feel yourself beginning to get close, feeling yourself become more and more aroused. You grab by his hair and pull him away, making him look up at you with hooded eyes and his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

“I haven’t even done anything to you yet, but you already look a mess.” You begin to laugh at him “You’re so pathetic.”

“Only for you.” He slurs, voice rough and needy.

Another surge of adrenaline pulses through you as he stares up at you. You close your legs, placing your feet on the ground. Letting go of his hair you, ordering him to strip and lie down on the bed.

As he goes to lay down, you stand up and pull off your soaked panties. Letting them fall to the floor. You bend down to pick them up, feeling his eyes roam your bare lower half.

You then turn around to admire your naked

lover. His chest and face flushed red, his erection standing tall against his stomach, leaking precum and pulsing every so often. It makes you feel proud and possessive.

You walk over to him, smiling, holding the soaked underwear tight in your hand.

“My baby looks so pretty for me. I knew you could be good for me, love.” You say softly as you crawl onto the bed. You straddle him, feeling his member, throb against you.

“You want me to fuck you, right?” You ask him, leaning toward his face. He nods, panting and rubbing himself against your core. You slap him hard enough to sting but soft of enough to where it won’t leave a mark.

“Nobody told you to move, Dejun. Behave.“ you say in a domineering tone.

He stills himself, trying to do as you say.

“From now on, you ask me permission to do anything. Are we clear?” You instruct him, lifting yourself to position his dick to meet with your entrance.

“Yes, goddess.” He moans out.

You look down at him with a shocked expression, quickly changing it to not show how affected you were.

You then slide down on to him, engulfing him in your wetness. Warmth surrounds him as you begin to bounce on him at a steady pace. His moans are being pushed out of him with each bounce, making you want to go faster, but you pace yourself.

Dejun could feel his release build up embarrassingly quick. He looks at you with teary eyes, beginning to beg.

“Goddess, I’m so close. Please let me cum, please.” He whines out, beginning to thrust up to meet your bounces.

“Aw, so fast, Dejun? Can’t you hold it for me?” You tease him, you notice him beginning to thrust up against you. You let him, only because you wanted to punish him for it.

“‘M so close, can’t hold it. Wanna cum inside you, Goddess.” He slurs out, moaning louder as he feels himself get closer and closer.

Until he snaps.

“Cumming.” Is all he gets out before he stills, moaning as spurts of his seed paints your walls. You don’t relent your steady bouncing, milking him as he shudders and arches his back.

As he comes down, he notices you’re not stopping. He begins to moan in slight pain, gripping the blanket below him.

“Who told you to cum, Dejun?” You say, breathlessly. Looking down at him with dark eyes, you continuously bounce on him, watching him writhe and squirm under you.

“‘M sorry, fuck! ‘M so sorry. Please, forgive me!” He moans out looking up at you with tear-filled eyes. You smile at him and continue to bounce, ignoring his pleas and moans.

You can feel your own orgasm approaching as he hardens inside of you. You look down him, having the sudden urge to shut him up. Remember the panties in your hand, you then shove them in his mouth, causing every noise he makes to be muffled.

“You don’t get to speak anymore.” You begin, moaning as you feel the heat in your stomach build further. “You broke the one rule I gave you. Just be a good toy and make me cum.” You say bouncing faster, lifting your hand to rub against your clit.

Your moans become more whiny and high pitched as you bring yourself closer. Clenching and unclenching around his overstimulated member, making him continue to squirm underneath.

You moan loudly as you cum all over waiting member, pulsing around him as he watches your hips buck up. You remove yourself off of him, leaving him hard and covered in your release. With weak legs, you get up to go grab a towel to clean yourselves off with. As you reach the door, you feel yourself being pressed against it. Startled, you try to turn around only to have your head held against the door.

“You can’t just leave.” Dejun mutters lowly into your ear “I wanted to cum inside you again, Goddess.” He pushes himself inside of you again, fucking into you at a desperate. Moaning into your ear as your eyes roll back at his relentless thrusting. You didn’t have time to react nor did you feel the need to, wanting this just as much as he did. Why else would you leave him hard and panting on the bed?

The air around you two is warm and musky. Squelching and desperate moans are all that can be heard in the room.

He leans down into your neck, biting and licking at the area. You moan louder, unable to form any words.

“Are you close? Wanna feel you cum on my dick again. Felt so good earlier.” He grunts into your neck. “Cum for me, so that I can finish inside you again.” He moans, voice rough with arousal.

You moan loudly, nodding as best you can as you feel your orgasm building up once again. Feeling you tighten around him, he picks up his rough pace making you lose your mind.

“Gonna cum, Dejun.” You moan into the door. He bites lightly at your neck again, triggering your second orgasm. You arch your back, chest pressing into the cold wooden door. Dejun watches you in adoration and lust, keeping up with his rough pace.

“Fuck, that’s it baby girl, cum all over me” He moans, with one final thrust he releases inside of you again, pushing himself further into as he pulses through it.

He pulls out looking at the mess that was made between your legs. He kneels down and places himself between your legs, licking at your messy hole, moaning into your core as you softly moan above him.

You just wait for him to finish, too weak to fight back against him.

He stands back up, mouth and chin covered in both of your releases. He turns you back around, placing your back against the door. He leans into kiss you, softly placing his lips onto yours. The mix of saliva, your fluids and his fluids should make you feel disgusted but you couldn’t help but to love it.

When he pulls away, he looks at you with adoring eyes, mouth moving to form the words you’ve been waiting to hear.

“I’m sorry, princess.”

#nct smut #wayv smut #xiaojun #xiaojun smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #mingibug fics #kpop scenarios #xiao dejun

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dreamypqulson · 1 year

Text

— two queens in a king sized bed

summary: on your way home from a council meeting across country, you and cordelia's flight gets canceled due to a snowstorm. the issue is, christmas is tomorrow. The bigger issue is that you have to share a bed with the woman that you've fantasized a relationship with since your first arrival at the academy.

pairing: cordelia goode x reader

word count: 3200

The thing about Cordelia Goode is that she books ahead. She's consistently on time for everything and always has her plans set in stone months ahead. That's why, the flight back to New Orleans getting canceled was a huge stump in her road.

It was December 24th and Christmas was approaching faster with each hour that passed. It was completely devastating that Cordelia could not be home with the girls for Christmas eve. She always made the holidays extra special for them since most came from a broken or abusive home. For Cordelia to miss Christmas day was like a parent missing their child's birth.

"What do you mean it's canceled? New Orleans doesn't ever snow!" Cordelia was getting agitated. For her to pull her unusual tempestuous demeanor was certainly alarming.

"Well, this year it is ma'am," The woman at the desk said flatly. She seemed unfazed by the infuriation.

Cordelia sighed, her face fell into her hands. Your first instinct was to put your hand on her back, but you immediately retracted that thought. You never truly saw Cordelia in this condition and so you did not know how she would react to being touched.

You could feel the heat radiating off of Cordelia's body from the anger and stress that fumed her. "The earliest flight we have is tomorrow morning at eleven," The lady intervened once more.

"Fine. If that's all you have, we'll take it." Cordelia became completely composed, especially when she spoke. You could see the tears threatening at her eyes, but she had already been far too trained at keeping them in.

Cordelia bought the tickets and walked out of the building with a rapid step. She didn't say a single word to you, you just tried your hardest to keep up with her.

You both waited outside for a taxi. It was snowing here, too. It reminded Cordelia of the reason she couldn't be home with her girls. But it was too pretty to be mad at. Still, she kicked a big chunk of snow with the tip of her shoe. "Fuck!" She yelled, wrathfully. It startled you.

"I'm going to disappoint all of the girls! They look forward to this all year and now i'm just abandoning them on the holidays like their own parents did!" Tears prickled down her face. You didn't know if it was the coldness or the anger that made her face turn so red. Both, probably.

"You're not disappointing anyone!" You finally said. She looked at you; like a small child, millions emotions danced across her face at once. Her lower lip trembled; she bit down on it. "It's not your fault. You can't control the weather. You tried your best and that's all that matters. They'll understand. We all know you would never abandon any of us."

Cordelia went to speak, opening her mouth to only close it when the taxi arrived. The conversation ended and was not brought up for the time being. She knew you were right. A huge part of her truly believed it too. She knew you would never lie to her, anyways.

The driver dropped you both off at the only motel in town. The only actual building in town, really. The deserted area was covered in snow. Without a couple of cars filling up the small parking lot you would've thought the place had been abandoned. The motel, however, seemed to be in great condition.

You and Cordelia both shared a look of uncertainty and then you followed her in. The lobby was empty besides an older woman at the front desk. You could hear muffled chatter and movement from the rooms down the hall.

"If you're coming to book a room, we only have one available," The woman said. She didn't look up from a magazine she was reading until silence filled up the room.

Cordelia finally spoke up, "We'll take it. Just for tonight please." The supremes sweet voice and glowing smile made the encounter slightly less awkward. The woman's eyes averted once to you, once to Cordelia, judgingly.

"It's only one bed," She said flatly, her lips pursed.

Cordelia looked over at you, without giving it a thought, she took the room. It was unlikely that you'd be able to fully sleep in an unfamiliar place. It's even more unlikely that'd you'd get any rest sharing a room with Cordelia.

You walked down to the end of the hall and opened the door with the key. The place didn't gross you out. It wasn't unclean. It had a dark red carpet, crème colored walls, and was richly decorated. A place like this was far too nice to be in an area like this.

Cordelia dropped her bags to the ground. With the time change, the sun was beginning to set as early as it was. She sighed and walked over to the only bed in the room. It was small; a twin sized bed. Neither of you would possibly be able to sleep contently without holding each other so close...

She threw herself on it with a grunt, looking over a you with a slight smile. "Come here," she said, reaching her arms out like a clingy child. You looked at her with questioning eye's. Cordelia has always been touchy. She's a very close friend of yours. But this seems like an entirely new boundary being crossed. You like it.

"Come onnn," She dragged on, her arms stretching further and smile becoming full. Your feet dragged across the rug as if they were locked in shackles. You were trying to hold this off as much as possible so your feelings could compose itself first.

You finally got to the bed. You crawled towards her and she watched you with hungry eyes. You could both melt into puddles with the heat between yous. Before you could figure out the confusing pounding in your chest, you were grabbed around the waist by Cordelia.

You squealed as you fell against her body. It was cold and you were tired and she was so warm and comfortable. However, your body tensed when her fingers snuck under your shirt, lightly tracing patterns against the expense of your back.

She noticed this and stopped, for a moment, before continuing on. "You're so tense, sweetheart," She said and her fingers dug softly into your flesh. It didn't hurt; it felt good and you had to contain yourself from the loud groan you were nearing to let out. She smiled slyly. She knew. "It's just me, darling. It's okay."

Exactly. It's just you. It's only you. That's the problem. "I know," you pushed out a gentle huff, "i'm just tired from all the traveling and everything. I think i'm going to go take a shower."

You got up and immediately made way to the shower without looking at her. You could feel her intense gaze on your back and you made slight eye contact as you closed the bathroom door.

You got out of the shower, wrapped a soft white towel around your body. You looked around the room only to realized that you had failed to take your pajamas with you. You scolded yourself. It's not that you were uncomfortable with Cordelia seeing you in just a towel, it was simply that mere fact that you don't think you would be able to handle her eyes on you.

There was no other option besides fully going out into the room with your towel. Why does she have to make you so crazy? Why does that fact that she takes up most of your heart make things so difficult?

"Cordelia?" You called, against the door. You soon heard her shuffling feet come towards it.

“Yes, sweetheart?" Stop it.

"Do you mind grabbing me my pajamas?" Your voice was shy, hesitant. Why was it such a big deal? You were covered.

"Of course not. Which ones would you like, honey?"

Once it was all figured out, she knocked on the bathroom door. Of course she would knock, even knowing that you are expecting her. She's so sweet.

You turned the knob and the door slowly slipped open. She smiled at you as soon as eyes met. She handed you your pajamas and you could swear that her eyes were wondering everywhere except your eyes at this point. However, you didn't look up to meet her eyes anymore. Oddly enough, you liked the feeling of her gaze deeply burning through your skin.

"Don't take too long, beautiful. I don't want to get too bored without you," She winked. What the fuck. The air knocked out of your lungs and your knees nearly buckled. You shut the door after pushing up a smile for her. How could one have such an effect on you.

Cordelia looked up from her place on the bed as soon as you walked into the room, her gaze adverting from the book on her lap to you. She smiled again and sat up with criss-crossed legs. She had already dressed herself in pajamas from the time you've spent putting your own on.

"Hey, you," She said. Her pajamas were silk and they draped on her slim frame perfectly. As if her clothes were more for decoration than necessity. "Come sit." Cordelia patted the spot next to her and you only took a mere second to contemplate until you were beside her, feeling her body warmth generating on you like a heater.

"So I have a present for you. I know it would be best tomorrow morning but I just couldn't wait any longer."

You could've sworn there was a baby bird inside your chest; trying out its new wings for the first time as your heartbeat accelerated. She thought of you. Even if she had bought you the ugliest sweater that was ten times too small, you would still wear it every day like a prized piece.

"Cordelia I- you didn't have to do that." Yet she already bought it. She already thought deeply about what she should get you. And she was already pulling out a tiny box wrapped in holiday wrapping paper, topped with a gold bow. It was perfect and so, so Cordelia.

"Shush. Don't be silly. Open it."

You peered at her swiftly and began to gently rip the wrapping paper off. A small, black box was revealed. You looked up at her questionably, however, knowing what the content must be.

You opened the box and softly gasped at the gorgeous silver necklace that looked right back at you. Tears pricked at your eyes when you saw the engraved writing on it; Cordelia's initial plus yours. You were overflowing with emotions for everything. The mere fact that Cordelia does this for you yet you've yet to believe that your feelings could ever be reciprocated. It hurt.

Cordelia chuckled lightly and that's what brought you back from your headspace. “Open it up. It's a locket." Everything about her was soft and her voice so close to you ear had sent goosebumps to arise on your skin and shivers to course through you; it wasn't from the coldness of the December bite this time.

Your breath hitched harshly when her warm hand was placed onto your back. You assumed she noticed by the way you heard her smile once more. You lifted the necklace out of the box and did as you were instructed. A gentle cry wracked your body at the picture stored in it.

"Cordelia, this is so beautiful," You said. A picture of a simple yet heart stopping day at the academy looked up at you. It was of Cordelia hugging you from behind with her lips pressed against your cheek. It was certainly the most intimate she had ever been with you and Zoe was great enough to capture a picture of it.

"I- I don't even know what to say," you wiped away the tears off your cold cheek and eventually looked over at her. The look she gave you was the moment you knew your heart would never feel the same as it did in this moment. It was the closest you'd ever be to her and it made you feel a way that most people don't ever get to experience.

"You don’t have to say anything. Let me put it on you," her voice ever so gentle, she picked it up out of your hands and you lifted your hair to give her a clear view.

Her fingertips brushed against the back of your neck, causing your body to twitch in the slightest. She clipped it and it nicely draped over your chest. She relaxed her hand against your shoulder, other hand grabbing your locks of hair and running her fingers through them. "It's look gorgeous on you," she whispers against the shell of your ear. Her lips are so close that the softness rubs against your ear.

You gulped down the urge of lean forward and figure out how they would feel against your own lips. Finally, you find that tiny voice in the back of your throat that allows you to speak, "I wish I brought your present with me. It's back at the house."

"You could give me another gift right here to hold me off," Cordelia smirked

"Oh really? And what would that be?" You watched as a wave of emotions crashed across her face. She hesitated to speak and her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink.

"Cuddle with me?" Innocence took over. She was nervous. She could've admitted everything right there, right then. But she didn't. So it was clear to you that you're feelings were not reciprocated. She asked you for such a simple, sweet thing and you couldn't deny her. You wouldn't deny her of anything.

"You're lucky that i'm very cold right now," You decided to take over the teasing roll. She bit her lip, holding herself back from the wide smile that would've taken up her whole face.

She got under the covers and you followed, the merky light being turned off with a flick of her wrist. Her arm came back around and draped over your waist. Gratefully, you weren't faced towards her; she couldn't see the single pathetic tear roll down your face. However, as silence beat by with your racing heart that never seemed to slow, she could certainly feel that something was amiss

Light illuminated the room once more. You closed your eyes to try and block it out when you really just thought you would be able to get away from here if you did. It was too much. These emotions, this closeness; it was all consuming you.

"What's wrong," Cordelia asked, and if she spoke any lower, any softer, you were certain that you wouldn't have heard it. As if you didn't; you failed to respond to her. You didn't know what to say, you didn't even know what was entirely wrong. "Hey, look at me please."

She grabbed your shoulders and turned your body around for you. You didn't look at her; refused to open your eyes. But she hadn't asked you to. Because if she had; you would. You would climb into a cage of hungry gorillas if she asked you to. You always want to please her in any way you possibly can.

"Please talk to me," she softly exhaled through her nose, waiting and waiting for you to finally brake this barrier that you had. She would wait eternity for you.

You simply shook your head. "I feel like," she began to lightly cry, "like you always have this wall up around you. Like no matter what I do, no matter how close we are, there's this part of you that's hiding."

Hiding my heart. I'm hiding my heart because i'm so terrified that you'll shatter it. But a part of you argued, she’s too gentle. She never hurt you before.

“I’m sorry,” You said simply, and you were. You were sorry for yourself, too, that you have to feel so strongly about your supreme. It was pathetic. “I’m sorry. I care about you a lot. I guess i’m just guarded,” you reached up and cupped her cheek, letting a hot tear slide down your own.

“Well don’t be. Not around me. I want all of you.” You could’ve sworn, or it was just your tired brain hallucinating, that she started to lean in closer. I want all of you, she said, but you knew she could never want the real you. She wanted all of this person that you’d pretended to be to mask your true feelings.

“You don’t..”

“I do. Do you want me to show you?”

You nodded again, slow and hesitant. You wanted whatever she would give you but you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to possibly handle it. Within seconds her lips came crashing down onto yours, desperateness nearly dripping out of her mouth.

She hovered over you but her sudden weakened arms were hardly able to hold herself up without quivering. The budding love for her passionately spread all over your body like vines growing on it’s home. Somewhere, in your dazzling haze of soft vanilla flavored lips molding against yours, had you let out an ungodly sound that made your cheeks turn the exact shade of red as the rugged floor.

She pulled back, looked down at you and smiled. You wanted to say so many things but could not build the courage after she had felt your strong desires for her. She sat back on her legs but kept a hand on the sliver of skin on your abdomen from your night shirt slightly rising. Just so you could feel that she was still there.

“You’re trembling,” was all she said, looking proud that she had shaken you up in the most exhilarating way that she possibly could. Her fingers began to move in slow circles on the soft flesh of your stomach.

“Kiss me again,” came out as a mere whisper, “please.”

She did just that. She wasn’t going to deny you of anything when you were so desperate for her. But she didn’t kiss your lips, it was your neck. And then your clothes were throw somewhere in room and her lips were everywhere elsewhere. “Please don’t ever stop.”

“I’ll never stop loving you,” Cordelia admits, and comes back at to look you dead in the eye. You gasp, feeling her soft skin brush against yours. “As for this,” her finger is drawing patterns on your chest as to which you cannot suppress the smile that creeps up on your face, “Well…I have all night with you for this.”

“Oh darling, I promise you’re stuck with me for life now.”

Her dark eyebrow raises at your sudden dominance, however, she new she would have you melted into a puddle again, within seconds if she pleased. “Hm, doesn’t sound like such a bad vow, my pretty girl.”

taglist: @loverofallthingssarah @goodeday2u @lanawinters-ily @tal @sapphicforsarahh @ahsfan05 @stayevildarling @isle-of-earle @cordithatgurl @mistysswampmud @billiedeansbitch @billiedeanspearls @cigaretteology @favoriteredhead @lovingsarah @cordeliass @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog

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muscular-fantasies · 2 years

Note

Hey again I have another request if that’s cool with you… (I was the anon who mentioned the whole eating thing) I just wanted to say for starters that what you did was amazing and was wondering if you could do more or I guess add to it…

I don’t just wanna be a muscular jock anymore, I wanna be one of those types of power hungry and dominant muscle freaks that lusts for both power & dominance with an added bonus of muscle. It’s cool if not but I appreciate what you do and what you did for me and I can’t thank you enough for it :)

You laugh as you reenter the training area, feeling bigger and stronger, you get ready to test these new muscles to their limits.

You grab some plates and add them to the bar, lifting them with some loud grunts. Quickly adding another plate, this time having a hard time to lift it. When you raised it to the top you smile, sweat flowing down your shoulders over your wide back. Amazed and mostly excited by your new power, ready to make this place your home.

"School time's over kid, let the adults have a go." A deep voice says, as his giant hand squeezes your shoulder.

Surprised you let go of the bar, but his giant paws, catch it easily and lifts it back on the rack with no effort. You stand up and turn around, seeing the biggest guy you have ever seen. Eyeing him up and down, he must be at least 6'5, his body erupting with muscles that make you look like the small twink you once were.

Before you could react he pushes you aside and starts working out. Anger builds inside you as, no one should mess with the alpha of this house. You walk towards the lockers and slam one, making a big dent in it.

"How dare that bastard, diminish me?!? I AM THE ALPHA! IF HE DOENS'T SUBMID I'LL USE HIM AS THE ROIDED PROTEIN HE IS!" You growl.

You sit yourself down on a bench, your stomach starting to growl again as it needs new food.

After a good hour or so, you see him walk in from the corner of your eyes. You stand up and follow him into the sauna. Seeing it's empty except for the two of you, you know this is your chance.

Before he could even sit completely down, you jump at him and envelop his dick in your mouth. He pushes you back.

"WTF FAG!" He growls.

But you don't listen as the need to fill your stomach takes over. You lunch at him and pin yourself completely against him as you start to suck as if your life depends on it. He tries to pull you loose, but can't help but moan as you go down on him. Because of this he doesn't use a lot of strength and you can hold on. Before he can realize it he had already lost a good chunk of his size. Panicking he uses everything in him to pry you off, but to his horror you've already gained the upper hand.

You squeeze him tightly as you feel his balls erupt, shooting every last bit into you. You grin evilly as you use his leftover towel to clean you face.

When you stand up you instinctively knew that your height and muscles had grown to his. It was time you became the alpha for real. After this you had started to go after every guy that had something you desired.

The army guy, who had amazing fighting skills to subdue anyone. The cute twunk, with his amazingly low bodyfat. The bear and his furry chest. The guy who was mostly there to take pics of his amazing jawline.

One by one you added there features to yourself, maybe one day you would be happy with what you had gained, but that wasn't gonna be any day soon.

#muscle gay #muscle daddy #muscle theft #muscle transformation #gay transformation #body transformation #body theft #muscle

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 year

Text

Demogorgon Dinner

pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Byers!Reader

genre: follows show plot lines, will diverge (come on, we know at this point)

WC: 8.3K

warnings: cursing, steve’s terrible girl advice, possibly getting eaten by monsters, jonathan being a bad older brother this chapter. that is it!

summary: Demodogs are now a thing. Also someone lives and someone dies.

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG -The Byers Harrington Story-

series masterlist

thank you to @alecmores for triple checking my work💕

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The three of you have been walking down the old train tracks for over two hours now, throwing chunks of meat onto the ground and listening to the woods. You walked in front of the boys since Steve said, and you quote, “I want to keep an eye on you and the kid,” and he was very insistent on the matter.

So you’ve been zoning out and mindlessly throwing meat, none of you starting a conversation. Not until an hour and a half in and Steve asks Dustin a question, “So, how did you find this thing?”

“Demogorgon,” you added.

“It might be a baby Demogorgon,” Dustin argued.

“Whatever, Demogorgon, baby gorgon, who cares. How did you find one and why did you keep it?”

The crunching of the autumn leaves beneath everyone’s feet filled the silent void as you and Steve waited for Dustin to give his answer. You can tell he was hesitating in his reply.

“I found it in my trash when I came home on Halloween. And I kept it…because of a girl,” he rushed the last bit out.

You had to stop in your tracks and turn around at the boy on trial. He halted in his steps when he was close to running into you. A pinch of his brows along with the confused look gracing his face showed he didn’t know why you stopped walking.

“So you’re telling me that you kept a dangerous creature because you thought a girl might be impressed?” You didn’t mean to hold anger in your tone.

Dustin shrunk into himself a bit, “ye-yeah,” he replied in a stutter.

“Dustin, two things. One, you have already been told to not take home wild animals, and two why didn’t you tell anyone, like Hopper for example.”

“To your questions, one: I did tell the party and Max.”

“Who’s Max?” Steve butted in. You also wanted to know, but that wasn’t important right now.

“And two,” he raised his voice, “I didn’t realize what he was at the time, not until he got bigger, and oh yeah! Ate my cat!”

“All right, so, let me get this straight.” Steve’s voice stopped your heated conversation, “you kept something you knew was probably dangerous to impress a girl who…who you just met?”

“All right, that’s grossly oversimplifying things.”

You separated yourself from the close distance formed between you and Dustin. The three of you went back to throwing meat and walking, wanting to continue this topic, but needing to get your task done by sunset. Then you remembered Dustin mentioning a girl named Max, and immediately thought of mad max at the arcade.

“Is Max the girl you just met? Also, is she mad max from the arcade?” “What’s a mad max?” “Someone at the arcade who beat all of Dustin’s high scores.”

Dustin huffed, “yes, Max is mad max.”

“Ah, so you like a girl who’s better at games,” you joked.

Before Dustin could answer Steve asked your earlier question, “Why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?”

“An interdimensional slug? Because it’s awesome.”

“It’s not Dustin,” you argued.

“Well, even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t, I…I just…” Steve sighed, “I don’t know. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard.”

You took a glance over your shoulder and smiled at the sight before you, Dustin and Steve standing beside each other. Steve trying to help Dustin with his girl problems, it’s like they were suddenly friends.

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, all right?” Dustin muttered.

‘God, you wanted to run your fingers through those strands one day’

“It’s not about the hair, man.”

“Oh, then do tell us the actual reason you score girls, Harrington,” you teased.

“The key, Byers, with girls is just…just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?” Dustin was confused, you were too.

“Yeah, exactly. It drives them nuts.”

You had to stop this before Dustin got the wrong idea, “oh, so ignoring girls is your advice?”

“That’s not- no not ignoring just not caring.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, then what?”

“You just wait until, uh….until you feel it.”

You were seriously contemplating throwing meat at Steve’s face right now.

“Feel what?” Dustin inquired.

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh…electricity, you know?”

“Steve, what the hell are you trying to implant into Dustin?”

“What, I’m just trying-”

“So, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere-” Dustin was using science as his guide.

Steve stopped him, “no, no, no, no, no. Like a… Like a sexual electricity. You feel that and then make your move.”

You stopped walking at this point, completely flabbergasted by what Steve was ‘teaching’ Dustin, “Steve, you can’t tell a thirteen-year-old about ‘sexual electricity’.”

“So, that’s when you kiss her?”

You threw your hands at Dustin after his question, “My point proven. He’s gonna do something stupid because of your terrible advice.” You turned to Dustin as he was quiet during your rant, “Dustin, don’t ignore girls.” “I didn’t say-” you cut Steve off with a hand to his face.

“Don’t ignore or act like you don’t care. Girls don’t like that. Show genuine interest in her, in things she likes. Try and make her feel like she’s the only girl in the world.”

“Okay, sure, some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive. You know, strong, hot and heavy, like a…I don’t know, like a lion.” Steve was going back to his way of advice to Dustin, it just made you roll your eyes and went back to walking and throwing meat. “But others, you gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy, like a…like a ninja.”

“What type is Nancy?”

Your blood ran cold. Wishing you could run further down the tracks away from the boys, or regret leaving your cassette player at home, you could be listening to ABBA right now! But, no. You were stuck listening to the boy you like talk about his girl- sorry, ex-girlfriend, to give Dustin terrible dating advice.

“Nancy’s different. She’s different than the other girls.”

The twist to the knife was hard. Like the hand was taunting you, playing sick games so when it unexpectedly twisted and dug deeper, it would steal the breath from your lungs.

You pretend to not hear their whispers, you didn’t want to talk anyway. So you just threw cubes of meat beside you and zoned out, trying to think of a happy memory or remember how one of the million songs you love started.

“Yeah, she seems pretty special, I guess.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she is.”

“But this girl’s special, too, you know. It’s just, like, something about her. Kinda like (Y/n).”

Your ears perked at your name, but you showed no sign that you caught it. You wished that Steve said something similar to how he described Nancy, but he didn’t.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, hey.”

“What?”

A look over your shoulder showed they stopped walking and were just facing each other now. You walked a bit further, close enough where you could faintly hear their voices still, but enough space for you.

“You’re not falling in love with this girl, are you?” “What, (Y/n), ha, no,” you blushed at the nervous tone lacing Dustin’s words.

“What, no doofus, this new girl…Max.”

“Oh, uh, no. No,” he still seemed hesitant in his words.

“Okay, good. Don’t.”

“I won’t.”

“She’s only gonna break your heart, and you’re way too young for that shit.”

You could hear the tiny infliction of hurt, how Steve is quietly telling you and Dustin that he fell deeply in love with Nancy, and all he got back in return, instead of an I love you, was his heart broken by her silence and drunken words.

You turned to look at the duo, Dustin with his head down and Steve who was looking at different points of contact. He would be looking at the ground or he would tilt his head to sneak a glance at Dustin’s quiet face, or he would end up making eye contact with you as you waited for them to catch up to you.

You saw him lick his lips and seemed hesitant in saying something, but spoke anyway, “Fabergé.”

“What?” Dustin asked for the two of you.

Steve pointed a gloved hand at his hair, “It’s Fabergé Organics,” an amused smile appeared upon your lips.

“Use the shampoo and conditioner, and when your hair’s damp…it’s not wet, okay? When it’s damp…”

“Damp.”

Bemused by the new topic and Steve now being serious about his hair products and routine, along with Dustin listening to his instructions, you let the earlier conversations slip from your mind.

“You do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.”

You had to hide the snort that left your nose, “Farrah Fawcett spray?” Dustin’s voice filled with amusement.

“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that and your ass is grass. You’re dead, Henderson. Do you understand?” Steve was pointing a finger at him while he was holding meat.

“What about (Y/n)? She’s also here and probably heard this whole conversation.”

You stayed forward, not wanting to be involved.

“I know (Y/n) can keep secrets. So, do you understand? You blab and you’re dead.”

“Fine, okay. I won’t tell.”

And you heard their feet moving again, pieces of meat falling onto the tracks and dead leaves.

“Farrah Fawcett, really?” You had to ask.

Steve shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, she’s hot.”

“Yeah,” Dustin replied.

You turned back around and had to give it to Steve.

‘Yeah, she’s hot’

…

It was now probably five in the afternoon when your trio arrived at the abandoned junkyard. Steve pulled his black ray bans from his backpack, sliding them on to protect his eyes, and then, suddenly, a second pair came into your field of vision. You looked at Steve with a confused brow and he waved them.

“I had an extra pair in the glove compartment.”

A silent thank you passed when you took the glasses and slid them onto your nose bridge. You turned to Steve, a smile adorning his lips. “They look good.”

“I’ll try not to steal them.”

“Nah, you can have them.”

It’s stupid how your heart thumps during this simple conversation about ray bans.

“If you two can pay attention,” Dustin’s voice interrupted. You can tell Steve rolled his eyes under the dark lenses.

“This is a good spot, Dustin,” you clapped his shoulder in excitement.

“Yeah, this is pretty good. This will do just fine,” Steve agreed as he walked off.

You could see the wide grin on Dustin’s face when Steve called out, “Good call dude.”

“Aw, does someone like having an older male friend in their life?” You poked a finger into Dustin’s sides.

He squirmed away from you and swatted your hand away, “Stop being weird,” and he followed after Steve.

A giggle escaped your lips and you just shook your head at Dustin’s display. Seeing Steve and Dustin interacting made you happy, but it was like a bucket of cold water was splashed over your head Carrie style. You don’t know where Will or Jonathan are at this moment, they could be at home now worrying about you, or they could still be out there not thinking about how scared and anxious they are making you. You wished you had a phone or something, but Dustin has his…

“Dustin!” You shouted.

Their two heads shot up when you called for Dustin, your figure running down the slope with the bucket of meat in one hand and the wind brushing the loose strands of hair off your face. Steve stood up from the ground where he and Dustin threw the rest of their meat, his hands coming out to brace your incoming speed.

“Woah, what’s the sudden rush?”

You ignored him, only pushing the bucket into his chest, “Dustin, you have your walkie, right?”

He points at the antenna sticking above his head, “Duh, you think I’m wearing this as a statement?”

You backhanded his shoulder, “Dude, shut up. I need to borrow it.”

“Why?” “ ‘Cause no one was home when we left-” “Wait, Steve spent the night?” a teasing glint to his voice and eyes.

Now Steve smacked him upside the head, “Shut up, dingus.”

“Anyway! There wasn’t anyone home this morning and I wanted to check in, maybe Jonathan got back after we left.”

“Dude, give her the damn walkie.” “Alright! Geez.”

He unplugged the antenna and headset and handed it over with a huff. You didn’t need to tune it.

“Will? Mom? Anyone home?” There was silence on the other side.

You stepped away from the boys wanting a bit of privacy in case those annoying tears appeared.

“Jonathan? Jonathan, are you home? Anyone, please just answer.”

Again no one spoke and just when you were about to walk back to Dustin it crackled to life, “(Y/n). It’s Jonathan.”

A sigh of relief passed, and you pressed the walkie into your chest as a silent thank you to whomever.

“Oh, thank god. Jonathan, where the hell have you been?”

“I’ll explain later. Where’s mom and Will?”

“They’re not there?” “No, only Bob’s car when we pulled in.”

“Who’s ‘we’, Jonathan,” you noted.

It went dead for almost a minute, you thought the battery suddenly died out on you.

“Uh, it’s me and…Nancy.”

A hand came up to your forehead and rubbed at your temples. While you were worried about Will and Hopper for the past two days, the reason Jonathan left so earlier on Friday was because of Nancy. She had Steve whipped around her finger and already Jonathan is being threaded. You’re not angry at either of them, just really annoyed at this moment.

“Okay, well since you’ve been gone, Will had an episode. So, if he and mom aren’t home you might want to check the lab.”

“Okay, and where are you?” “None of your business.” “(Y/n), come on.”

“I’ll be home late, over and out.” And with that, you turned the walkie off.

You stomped over to Steve and Dustin, your face probably giving off how you felt after the conversation because you noticed the look exchanged between the two, “You okay?” Steve questioned.

“Never better,” a grit to your words.

Steve reached out a hand and before it could touch your arm or wherever it was gonna land, a far-off voice called out.

“I said medium-well!”

Everyone wiped their heads in search of the voice. You were greeted by the sight of Lucas and a new girl beside him. Lucas sent a wave and you happily threw one back in greeting and the duo walked over to your group.

“Who’s that?” Steve asked Dustin.

Dustin not giving a reply the both of you looked at him, and the look on his face broke a piece of your heart. You knew that look on his face, knew the emotions running through his mind and heart. It’s something you saw in the mirror every day, it’s the hurt you felt every time you saw Steve and Nancy together, the two of them happy and infatuated with each other. It’s something you saw in Jonathan’s eyes and sometimes Will’s. It was the look of your heart breaking slowly.

“Okay, right now we need to set up a base inside that bus. So, we need to forfeit it to withstand damage,” and Steve clapped his hands together.

He walked off and pulled the yellow gloves off, pulled the redhead with him, and pointed out stuff, probably giving her instructions. Dustin grabbed Lucas by the arm and dragged him off behind a red car. Throwing off the gloves and dropping them near a pile of trash you walked to Steve and asked what you should do.

“Uh, try to find big pieces of sheet metal to cover the bus.”

A nod of your head and you were off looking for the needed supplies. Walking around the junkyard you found multiple things of sheet metal and dragged them back to the bus. You even found an ax that was in good condition so you left it by the bus as a reminder to grab it.

You and the redhead met at the bus, each with a new sheet of metal.

“I’m (Y/n), Byers. You might have met my little brother, Will.”

“Yeah, we’ve met. I’m Max, Mayfield.”

“Uh, would you happen to be related to Billy Hargrove?” you were just a bit curious since you remember her leaving his car a few days ago.

“He’s- he’s my stepbrother,” she seemed to hate this fact.

A thudding sound resonated throughout the trash, you looked up and saw Steve standing at the trunk of the red car, both Lucas and Dustin standing to look at him. He threw an arm out and pointed in your general direction, probably telling the boys off for not helping. You looked at Max and she was also paying attention before walking off.

And so with an hour and a half left of sunlight, the five of you went to work on setting everything up and ready for the coming danger to come tonight.

…

Once the bus was set up, the meat bait and a line of gasoline ready to go, everyone huddled into the ruined bus. It went Lucas, Max, Dustin, you and then Steve coming behind and shutting the door shut.

Everyone went to different spots inside, you sat near the back and leaned against the side of the bus with your legs stretched in front of you, Max sat behind the ladder and stared at everyone, Steve sat in the middle and flicked the lighter on and off. Dustin was pacing a bit and Lucas went to the roof to stake out the darkened junkyard.

“So, you really fought one of these things before? Both of you?”

You understand where Max is coming from. Moving to a new town and these kids try telling you that a small town like Hawkins is the complete opposite of your ideal image, that an evil lab held experiments and opened a gate to an Upside Down version of your town where interdimensional monsters run around. And that a kid didn’t go missing in the woods, he was on the run for a week trying to stay alive and make it home. You wouldn’t believe them either if you hadn’t experienced it firsthand.

“Yeah, but it was a big Demogorgon, and it was in my house.”

She looked perplexed at the casual air you gave that statement. All Steve did was nod his head and flicked the lighter closed.

“And you’re, like, totally, one hundred percent sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“Shit. Don’t be an idiot. Okay? It wasn’t a bear.”

“Dustin, dude.” You weren’t sure what this sudden attitude towards Max was, but it was pissing you off.

“Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.” You and Max both shared similar looks of disbelief and shock at this attitude. Max just scoffed at him and got up from her seat, “Geesh. Someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” And she headed up the ladder to join Lucas.

Steve let out a breathy laugh at the display, “That’s good. Just show her you don’t care.”

“Steve, this is why you shouldn’t give that crappy advice. It just pissed her off.”

Dustin stopped his pacing, “I don’t,” he said to Steve.

Steve turned to look at Dustin, “Why are you winking, Steve? Stop.”

“Steve, did you really pull all those girls?” You taunted.

He whipped his head so fast at the question, “Are you insinuating I didn’t?”

“Wow, big word,” a snarky Dustin comment.

You ignored him, “I’m just saying, how were you able to get girls if you ignored them, pretended you didn’t care about them or their interest? It’s a shitty move.” Speaking from a similar experience.

The early days of high school where boys would talk to you at your locker, a charming smile tricking you into their little games being played behind your back. Getting ready for a date someone wanted to take you on, and when you got to wherever they took you, whether it be Lovers Lake, Skull Rock for a ‘picnic’, or a drive-in, they always wanted the same thing. To win a prize and humiliate you. They never got the prize, but you always got humiliated.

“Look I- I didn’t mean for it to sound…”

“Dude you’re just digging yourself into a grave,” Dustin muttered.

You pulled yourself deeper into the bus, trying to curl yourself into a ball at this moment, “Girls want to feel loved, we want to feel appreciated by that special person. Someone who wholeheartedly, and genuinely shows their devoted interest in you. We don’t want to feel like a trophy to be won and then thrown away, life already makes us feel that way,” you whispered in the last part.

“(Y/n)-” Steve’s voice was cut off by the sound of growling from outside.

You jumped to look out the window, Dustin and Steve copying. All you could see was a thick fog covering the junkyard floor.

“You see him?” Dustin asked.

“No,” both you and Steve answered.

“Lucas, what’s going on?” Dustin screamed into the roof.

Lucas told him to hold on and it was quiet for the next minute. The growling coming back telling you it was out there, but just hiding.

“I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock! Ten o’clock!” Lucas yells.

You tried looking in the general direction of ten o’clock, but all you saw was fog and trashed cars. You should probably look into glasses soon.

“I don’t-”

“There,” Steve cut you off.

You left your area of the bus and joined the boys, leaning your right side into Steve’s to try and look for Dart. You could barely make out his shadowed figure.

“What’s he doing?” Dustin inquired.

“I don’t know,” Steve stated. “He’s not taking the bait. Why is he not taking the bait?”

“Maybe he’s sick of cow?” You nervously joke.

Steve backed away from the window, you turned your attention away from Dart and focused on Steve who seemed to be thinking through a stupid plan. Dustin turned around as well, Steve looking between the both of you before turning away and towards the front of the bus.

“Steve? Steve, what are you doing?” Dustin urged.

“Steve-”

He turned around and threw the lighter at you, “Just get ready.”

“What? Steve, no, please. Please don’t-” you pleaded with him.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine.” And he left the bus.

You and Dustin rushed back to the windows of the bus, watching as Steve slowly walked further into the lion’s den with only a nail-studded bat as protection. He swung the bat low, parting the fog layer. His back was hunched over a bit and his head was whipping all around, trying to keep a close eye on any movement. As he got further in he raised the bat at shoulder level, his steps still slow, waiting for any action. He let out a low whistle to alert Dart of his presence since he wasn’t taking the meat anymore.

“What’s he doing?” Max questioned as she came down the ladder.

“Expanding the menu.” You smacked Dustin’s shoulder, “That’s not funny.” Now the three of you watched as he stood right in front of the meat pile, his feet constantly moving. The bat held steady in front of him, keeping his defense up.

“He’s insane.”

“He’s awesome.” “No, he’s insane and stupid for going alone,” so you smacked the lighter into Dustin’s chest and grabbed your new ax.

“Seriously?” “Just be ready,” you mirrored Steve’s words.

As you exited the bus you kept an eye out, not knowing if Dart was the only one here tonight. And your question was answered when Lucas shouted, “Steve, watch out! Three o’clock! Three o’clock!”

And sure enough, there were not one, but two new Demogorgons stalking closer to Steve. You walked a bit closer to be near Steve, not wanting him to be their dinner.

“Steve! Abort! Abort!” Dustin cried from the open bus.

“Steve!” You yelled.

He turned around at you and Dustin shouting for him then turned back to Dart just as he rushed forward along with one of the others. He rolled out of the way in time, falling onto the hood of a nearby car and landing on his feet, able to hit one of the creatures.

“Steve, run!” “Steve, hurry!” They continued to shout.

You swung at one of the three animals that were close to you, trying to keep a distance from the both of you as you ran back to the bus. Steve grabbed your hand as he ran by and pulled you with him, the two of you having to outrun the four-legged animals. Steve pushed you into the open doors first then came in behind and Dustin shut the doors, a Demogorgon running into it.

“Shit!” Lucas and Dustin wailed.

“Are they rabid or something?”

Steve pulled some metal from the front window to reinforce the door.

“They can’t get in! They can’t!” “You think we don’t know that Lucas!” You shrieked.

Now all of them were throwing themselves against the bus, shaking it around like an earthquake. You all screamed in terror, Steve keeping his feet against the metal on the door. You gripped Steve’s arm then suddenly one of them got through the door. You reached for your ax as Steve started to hammer at it with his bat, the kids rushing to the back. Dustin began to call for backup again, “Is anyone there? Mike? Will? God! Anyone!”

“I don’t think God’s gonna help us!” You babbled.

“We’re at the old junkyard, and we are going to die!”

Steve kept batting at the door, their claws seeping into the cracks. They left a dent in the back from their impact. You looked up at the roof when you started hearing the metal bending from the weight. Max was standing right under an opening and started to scream. You threw her out of the way and saw it, a Demogorgon looking into the bus. You held your ax up, ready to defend the kids and yourself, but you didn’t need to. Because suddenly it perked its head up and then ran off.

“What just happened?” Max whispered.

No one had the energy to answer that question. The five of you are just waiting to see if they’ll come back. When it sounded quiet, not a single growl was heard. You all made your way outside the bus. Steve stepped out first, a loud banging sound caught you off guard, “jeez.” He had his bat at the ready and you held the ax low, but neither of you saw anything out there.

“Did Steve scare ‘em off?” Dustin questioned. “No, no way.” He turned to the four of you, “they’re going somewhere.”

It clicked, “the lab.” A tremble to your voice.

…

“You’re positive that was Dart?” “Yes. He had the same exact yellow pattern on his butt.”

“He was tiny two days ago.”

“Well, he’s molted three times already.”

Dustin and Lucas’ argument lasted for five minutes now, while the five of you walked on the tracks in the direction of the lab.

“Malted?” Steve asked, mispronouncing the word.

“No, molted. He shed his old skin to make room for growth,” you explained.

The sun’s warmth was replaced with the cool night air, along with the goosebump feeling on your arms that something could be watching you in the thick tree line. The two boys walked ahead of everyone, whispering sometimes or loudly voicing their opinion. Steve walked in the middle, his eyes moving between the boys to look at the woods or taking a glance over his shoulder to make sure you and Max were keeping up. Max seemed a bit quieter after the demodog incident earlier, which you fully understand. She kept thinking the four of you were crazy or pulling a bad prank on her, she kept insisting it was just a large animal. But once she saw it directly in front of her, ready to attack and eat her, you knew she came to the full realization.

So, when you all packed up and headed off to the lab, you stayed behind to keep her company.

“Are you… are you okay?” you knew it was a stupid question, but you felt the need to ask.

Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her green Adidas zip-up, hair tucked behind her ears, but falling over her shoulders. She would scuff her sneakers into the dirt and leaves, her shoulders hunched close to her ears. She was very quiet, but you wanted to know what she was thinking, so you would give her time to answer.

“I… You said you fought one before?”

“Uh, yeah. Last year, it kinda destroyed my house a bit. But there was only one at the time and it was full grown. Steve was there too.”

You saw her take a look in the boys' direction, and you do the same. You saw Lucas and Dustin walking side by side and Steve was walking close behind, his head bent forward.

“He was- Steve was courageous tonight and even the first time. Saved my older brother from getting killed,” you added for Max.

She was quiet again, and you waited a bit to see if she would have something to say. When she did, she seemed hesitant in her words.

“How are you- how are you so…calm about this? You almost got attacked, we all almost got hurt. Those things… they wanted to kill us.”

You processed your thoughts for a moment, “I- I think it’s my coping mechanism. I have past trauma about something else, and it’s either I make jokes out of it or I…I choose to be in denial. And I think over the last year… I slowly came to terms with certain things. I still hate all this, I wish it would go away for good, but at least I have people I can go to. Plus I have to protect you kids, always doing stupid shit on your own.” You nudged her shoulder for the last part, a smile gracing her once solemn face.

The two of you went back to walking in silence, well silence of the conversation. The boys and nature-filled in the empty void. Your hands kept a bit of warmth in the back pockets of your jeans, your feet getting colder by the minute.

You thought back on your conversation between you and Jonathan earlier, you regret getting upset at him. He deserves to do his own thing, he had to take care of everyone else and last year was no exception. You just wished he told you, he knows you don’t like being thrown to the wolves, being left to hold the fort without any backup. But that’s something you can’t dwell on any longer, right now you just need to get to the lab and find Will.

“Wait, a cat?”

Suddenly the boys all stopped in their tracks, Steve ahead of everyone with Lucas facing Dustin. You and Max halted to a stop before running into them. Lucas looked confused by whatever was said before, you weren’t paying close attention to their conversations.

“Dart ate a cat?” Oh, Steve might have said something.

“No, what? No,” Dustin was doing a bad job of saving face.

“What are you talking about? He ate Mews.”

You and Max were both confused, “Mews? Who’s Mews?” Max questioned. “It’s Dustin’s cat,” Steve confirmed.

You turned to Dustin just as he turned to look at Steve, “Your cat’s name was Mews?” “Steve!” Dustin shouted at his friend.

Lucas shoved at Dustin’s shoulder in anger, “I knew it! You kept him!”

“No!” Dustin shouted.

“No?”

“No, I…No, I…” you, Steve, and Max were watching the two boys, Dustin failing to think of something.

He finally gave up, “He missed me. He wanted to come home.”

“Bullshit!” Lucas blurted, and you saw Steve barely flinch at the word.

“I didn’t know he was a Demogorgon, okay?”

“Oh, so now you admit it?” “Guys, who cares?” Max voiced, “we have to go.”

“I care!” Lucas yelled to Max then faced Dustin, “You put the party in jeopardy! You broke the rule of law!”

“So did you!” Now Dustin was yelling at Lucas.

“What?”

You stole a glance at Steve, he was exasperated by this whole conversation, and honestly, you were getting there as well. Then suddenly Dustin shined his flashlight directly into Max’s face.

“Dude,” you threw a hand out to drop the light.

“You told a stranger the truth!”

She scoffed at his remark, “a stranger?”

“You wanted to tell her, too!” Lucas commented.

“Yeah, but I didn’t, Lucas, okay? I didn’t tell her!”

Then suddenly you could hear screeching in the distance, Steve hearing as well with his head following in your direction. The kid's argument is drowned out by the loud rushing of blood passing your eardrums, your heart beating quicker. Steve walked forward a bit, his light shining into the blackout forest. You followed a step behind, a light tremble coming into your hands making the light shake. The sudden weight on your wrist distracted you from the faint screeching and instead focused on the feel and warmth of Steve’s hand circling your wrist.

“Guys?” Steve tried to call the kids.

They kept yelling at each other, to focus on their conversation. You kept your eyes forward while Steve twisted to face them and yelled out for them again, this time louder, “Guys!”

Their talking stopped and another wave of screeching could be heard. Your breathing was picking up, worried for your family if they were inside the lab right now. You started to flick at your nails with the hand that was held in Steve’s grasp.

“Hey,” his voice was quiet, only for you.

You didn’t turn your head, wanting to keep an eye on the forest, scared of any tricks it could play when you were caught off guard. Your fingers stopped flicking at your nails when Steve’s hand slid from your wrist, slotting his fingers between yours. Your breath caught in your throat, and the pressure of a squeeze from him released it. You wanted to look at him but didn’t dare.

He began walking forward, further into the woods, his grasp pulling you behind him. Then the kids followed, but you could hear Max protesting. The four of you, the horror movie protagonist that walks toward the suspicious noise, you’ll either die or make it to the final act.

…

Your group trekked through the woods, your feet slipping in the wet spots at times, but Steve’s hold on your hand saved you from eating dirt. He held your hand the whole time, you could feel the kids' eyes watching, but you ignored them. You wanted to savor this moment for however long it was gonna last. When the five of you reached a clearing that looked over most of Hawkins, Steve slipped his hand free, you already missed the warmth and comfort.

Everything was completely dark and a little fog covered most of your view. Only the distant yellow color of lights allowed you to see where a building was located.

“I don’t see him,” Dustin mentioned.

“It’s dark, Dustin, obviously you can’t see him,” you mouthed.

Lucas pulled his binoculars up to his eyes and scanned the area.

“Can you see the lab?” You asked him.

It took a moment, but then he answered, “Yeah, and it looks to be completely dark.” “Dark? What- What do you mean dark?”

“I mean, there isn’t a single light on. It might be a blackout.”

You spared Steve a look, “I don’t like that, they could be on lockdown because of something.” You wrung your hands together. “(Y/n), everything is fine,” Steve was trying to comfort you, “I’m sure it’s nothing. We’ll head that way and check it out, okay?”

You glance in the general area where the lab was located then back to your group, Max looking at you and Steve while Dustin and Lucas look at each other and then to you. So, you nodded your head and started to walk off back into the woods, the other four following just behind you.

…

“(Y/n)!” His voice called out, you ignored it.

“(Y/n)!” His voice was closer this time, but you still ignored him and continued forward.

‘You needed to get to the lab.’ ‘You had to make sure your family was safe.’ ‘If Hopper, Bob, and Mike were in there as well, you needed to make sure they came out alive.’ ‘You can’t lose anyone, you can’t lose anyone, you can’t-’

“(Y/n),” his hand grasped your wrist again and brought you to a halt.

Steve pulled you into his bubble, the arm he held was close to his chest and in between your two bodies. The tip of your shoes brushed against his in the breath of space separating the two of you. You had tilted your head up just a bit to look at Steve, his taller figure looming over you. His eyes were peering into yours, it felt invasive as if he was trying to search your very mind, but also it was comforting to know he cared enough to worry about you in this instance.

“I know you’re worried about Will and anyone else at the lab, but we need to be careful,” he sighed, “I gotta keep you and the three morons safe.”

You held a fixed gaze on him, noting the pained look slapped across his face. His eyes watching you, zooming over your face, almost in an intimate way. His lips parted and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Steve loosened the hold on your wrist and dropped it free. He used that hand to push it through his hair, a nervous gesture you’ve picked up.

“I- I can’t have another person get killed because of my stupidity,” his hand slapped his outer thigh.

Your heart crushed at the crack in his words. He thought Barb died because of him.

“Steve…Barb didn’t die because of you.”

“Yeah, well… if I didn’t take Nancy up to my room, maybe she would have left with Barb. I- I just…”

You stopped him, a hand automatically caressing his cheek. You just crossed one of your boundaries, but at this moment you didn’t care. Steve needed to know.

“Steve, none of this is your fault, it’s not even Nancy’s fault either. We didn’t know about the Demogorgon yet, how would you have known something this evil was lurking in your backyard?”

He tried to look away from you, you threw another hand and now Steve’s face was being gently held between your two. You need to make sure he gets your message.

“Steve, I want you to listen closely,” his eyes were pleading with your own, “you are not responsible for Barbara’s death, no matter what anyone says, you didn’t kill her. The Demogorgon killed her. And sadly we weren’t able to save her in time.”

“But if I-“

“No, Steve. Just stop, okay, just stop for a moment.”

You slid your hands from his cheeks down to his shoulder and finally, they settled on his upper arms.

“Steve Harrington, you may have been a douchebag that only wanted to get into Nancy’s-“

He scoffed, “Byers.”

“But! But, you are not that type of person anymore. You were helping Dustin with his little problem before I came along, you’re spending a perfectly fine Saturday with me and three kids walking around in the woods on the hunt for baby monsters.”

He chuckled at the sentiment, “I wanted to hang out with you, but I wasn’t expecting we would be doing this.”

You gave a breathy laugh, “Yeah, me either.”

“Look what I’m trying to say, but failing at it is, sometimes these certain events happen no matter what, just so they would lead to a fixed outcome. Maybe even if Barbara didn’t come to your house that night with Nancy, someone else could have gotten killed, or there could be many other scenarios,” your hands flapping around in the air. “The point is, it’s in the past now, and it’s something we can’t change, we can only learn from our mistakes and walk forward.”

You stood with your fist against your hips and legs spread out a bit, it was like a knock-off superhero pose you were giving, for whatever reason. You expected to hear Steve say something along the lines of, “that was good advice” “thank you for getting that information through my thick skull” “(Y/n) Byers, I’m madly-” But all you got from him was the delicate sound of his giggles.

“What’s so funny, Harrington?” Your head tilts in question.

He held a hand to cover his mouth, a finger resting just under his nose, “Ah, it’s- it’s nothing.” “No, come on. You were so quiet just a few seconds ago, now you are giggling about something. Was it my little speech, are you making fun of me?”

He rushed to correct you, “No, no, no. It wasn’t- Thank you for the little pep talk. I appreciated it,” he held his hands out. “It’s just… I remember you used to do that little pose in elementary school,” he pointed a finger to indicate what he meant.

“Oh,” you slouched from the pose, “my mom…she uh- she used to call me her little Wonder Woman, and that was her signature pose. I saw it as a way for me to be her. I imagined I was Wonder Woman, someone who was strong, can hold her own, and protected people from monsters.”

You looked at your feet and whispered, “I’m my family’s Wonder Woman.”

You peeked over at Steve as the both of you went walking again, you talking and he was just silent, his shoulders skimming against your own. His eyes were turned down to the floor, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, wind sweeping through his hair, and his lips held a quaint smile on them.

“Yeah, I- I remember one time,” he was chuckling at the memory, “there was one time at school when- I believe it was Sharon Halloway, she shoved James Barnes in the chest and he fell straight on his ass.”

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!” “No, I know. But after she shoved him, I saw you, small little (Y/n) Byers storming over to the scene of the crime, standing tall and protective, striking your pose to protect James.” You felt the blood rush to your cheeks because you now remember that memory and also how it ended, “Yeah, but do you also remember how Sharon shoved at my shoulder and I pushed her a bit too hard, also I might have slapped her…” Steve turned his eyes on you, “I had really bad anger problems when I was younger,” you tried to play off.

The two of you walked in silence and it was comforting.

Then Steve nudged your shoulder, “So if you’re Wonder Woman, who am I?”

You looked quizzically at him, “What do you mean?”

“Well, does she have a sidekick or something?”

You pointed a finger at him, “Steve, you may think it’s ‘nerdy’ to like comics, but I will make you read some, mark my words.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes playfully.

“Uh, but to answer your question, there is a guy in the comics who helps her.” “And,” he pushed forward.

“Steve Trevor, he’s a fighter pilot,” ‘and a love interest’, but that’s something you won’t add.

Steve grinned at the character, “I think that’s perfect for me.”

“Yeah, completely,” you replied in a lovesick haze.

Again silence filled your bubble for a while.

And then you heard Lucas shout out from somewhere in the dark, “Guys! We’re here!” And the kids walked a bit faster, making you and Steve pick up speed to put yourselves first.

…

You and Steve shined your torches that illuminated a path that led to the road of the lab. As you were getting closer to the clearing you could hear someone shouting, you couldn’t make out what they were saying or if they were even shouting in your direction. Just as you were out of the forest, Steve was in front with the bat in his hands and you were a step behind with your ax in hand as well, Steve stopped in an abrupt halt causing Dustin to slam into your back making you trip over your feet and scramble to grab Steve for support.

“Christ, Dustin.” “Steve? (Y/n)?” The two mystery voices screeched.

You looked away from Dustin and faced the voices of Nancy and Jonathan.

“Nancy?” Steve asked while walking forward.

“Jonathan?” Dustin questioned.

“What are you doing here?” Nancy asked while marching forward.

“What are you doing here?” Steve retorted as your group headed toward them. “We’re looking for Mike and Will, and (Y/n) said they might be at the lab,” Nancy answered.

You felt eyes on you and you took that opportunity to grab Jonathan by his arm and yank him away from your group. You needed to talk with him anyway.

“(Y/n), why are you with Steve?” You scoffed at Jonathan’s tone, “No, you don’t get to ask questions. Especially if they involve Steve.”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, “What I want to know is where the hell have you been for the past two days? And why are you doing who knows what with Nancy?” You demanded an answer from him.

He rubbed a hand over his face, “(Y/n), it’s something I can’t talk about right now-” “Oh! Oh, how convenient!” “(Y/n)!” Jonathan all but yelled out your name, “what I want to know right now is why the gates to the lab are closed and why Will is inside.” He threw his arms at the closed gate where his car was stationed in front and the blacked-out lab.

Just before you could say anything the loud sound of screeching could be heard from a close distance. You turned towards your group and they were also looking at the lab, they heard the noises as well. The two of you rushed to the others, Jonathan falling beside Nancy and you beside Steve. Everyone was talking over the other, Dustin trying to explain the situation, Lucas butting in, Max providing unnecessary information. It was too much for you at the moment.

You had to step away from the noise, cover your ears, close your eyes, and hum a song to yourself to not think for just a moment. Voices were too loud, your heart was thumping too hard, your eyes were stinging, and your breathing was both harsh and quick-paced.

It wasn’t until a hand squeezing your shoulder pulled your eyes open and hands away from your ears. You saw Nancy standing beside you, a concerned pull to her brows and worry swimming in her eyes.

“You okay?” Her voice was a whisper.

You rubbed your hands over your face, “ah, just- just overwhelmed.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded at your answer. You looked away from her and at that moment you saw the lights of the lab turn on, floor by floor, the lab had lights again.

“That power’s back,” you muttered, then you turned to the group and said louder, “the power’s back!”

The six of you rushed to the guard's box, Jonathan rushing into it and pushing against the buttons. Everyone else was watching the gate, waiting for it to open. Nothing was happening.

“Let me try,” Dustin sounded impatient, you understood.

The two scuffled a bit, Dustin yelling at Jonathan and then him yelling at the buttons for not opening the gate at his touch. You started to hop on the tips of your toes, needing the stupid gate to open already so they could escape.

After what felt like hours to your racing mind, but was probably only two minutes in real-time, the gate finally opened. You exhaled a sigh of relief and headed to Jonathan’s car before he stopped you.

“What the-” “Just wait here.”

“What? No, I-” “(Y/n)! Just wait!” And with that Jonathan and Nancy hopped in his car and drove into the lion’s den.

You watched in disbelief as his headlights disappeared the further they went. Jonathan just pushed you to the side, but let Nancy go with him. Both your brothers were there and your mom, why couldn’t you go with them?

“Don’t take it personally,” Steve's voiced.

You scoffed, “Don’t- don’t take it personally? Steve, my mom, and my brother are in there. Along with Bob and possibly Hopper, those are people I care about. So I am gonna take it a bit personally when my own brother won’t let me go with them.”

Steve sighed, “(Y/n), he just wants to protect you.”

Again, you scoffed at the statement, “Little late for that,” you muttered.

Before Steve could say anything else, you saw headlights barreling towards the gate and then a horn honking repeatedly. Steve pulled you out the way and you saw the kids running as well to avoid becoming bowling pins. You saw Jonathan’s car rush past without stopping and then you saw Hopper’s truck pull up, you were so relieved at the sight. He stopped the car and waved at the five of you.

“Let’s go.” And Steve reached for the door.

He handed Max the bat and she went in first, then Lucas, and finally Dustin who you handed your ax to. There wasn’t any more room in the back so Steve hopped in the front seat first before pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms tight around your waist as your seatbelt.

With everyone in, Hopper put the car into drive and sped down the dark road like a bat out of hell.

-----------------------

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