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eddiesxangel · 4 months

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Fool Me Once | Eddie Munson x Reader

Anonymous Asked: Eddie being your first everything and first boyfriend and reader is like kinda awkward or something. Then Eddie gets really drunk and gets home to reader and starts yelling at her saying like “You’re only dating me because you don’t want to be a sad loser virgin.” and she gets really sad because she genuinely loves him so much and she starts thinking that he doesn’t love her at all… Then maybe the day after he can’t find reader anywhere and maybe she’s like with robin just crying her eyes out.

AN: IDK IDK it’s my first angsty thing I’ve done hope it’s ok 🫣

Cw: angst, hurt no comfort. Small bitty smut. Use of pet names, one use of reference to reader as “my girl”

“I love you, god, I love you” Eddie slowly pumped his swollen cock in and out of you.

You’ve never felt this wave of pleasure before; no wonder everyone was so hyped about sex.

“Fuck you’re so tight.”

“Baby, please.” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but the feeling in your lower stomach was starting to build more and more and more until! Euphoria. Euphoria fuelled your body. The wave of pleasure that Eddie just granted you felt indebted to him.

“I love you,” you sigh as your body melts into your boyfriend.

You’ve been with him for almost six months and finally felt ready to give himself to him. You hadn’t slept with anyone until now, and you were so happy you waited. You never felt so close, so in love, so unbelievably happy in this moment. Life was amazing; nothing could ever break this feeling you have.

Ring ring ring

You were abruptly awakened by the sound of your phone ringing. You were fast asleep, and now feeling disoriented, you looked at the clock. It was already 3:38am. You wondered who could be calling you at this late hour. Maybe it was an emergency? Your heart racing, you rushed over to the phone in a state of panic.

"Hello?"

"You little slut"

"Eddie?"

"Who else would it be? Are you expecting a booty call? another guy you want to fuck?"

"I don't understand? What's wrong."

“What's wrong? I'll tell ya what's wrong! You’re only with me, so you’re not some loser virgin, that’s what! Do you think all the guys will want you to know that your cherry is popped? Well, guess what, honey? Now you're just a sad little whore.” He slurred.

“Wha-“

“You think you’re hot shit now? Getting with the freak of Hawkins? Gonna brag about how you fucked the freak?”

“Eddie, what are you talking about?” your voice wobbled.

He was obviously drunk out of his mind, but as they all say, drunk words are a sober man’s thoughts.

“I know how this is going to go… well, not if I beat you to it.”

“I don't understand?”

“I don't understand?” He mocked you in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll tell you what I’m talking about!” He yelled, and you cowered. He didn’t care. His voice got louder and louder. “You were a sad loooooser virgin before me! And now you’re just a sad loser who fucked the freak,” he laughed. He actually laughed.

"Eddie-"

“So we are don-”

You hung up the phone before he could finish his sentence.

You couldn't believe this was happening? You gave Eddie everything. You thought he was your everything up until this point. You slept with Eddie for the first time a week ago. Things were good, great, even. Until he went to the hideout tonight without you.

You stayed up the rest of the night because you were in tears about what Eddie said. None of this makes any sense? You always loved Eddie, and you thought he loved you back? How could he be so cruel?

You were woken up from your daze by a knock on your apartment door. You stumbled out of your room, still in your sleep shirt, with puffy eyes from crying all night. Robin was here to pick you up for work.

"Good Mor-" Her smile dropped along with the cup of coffee she was handing you as she saw your appearance. "Oh my god! What happened?" she rushed inside to wrap her arms around you.

"Eddie. He-" You could hardly get the words out. You just crumpled into a ball on the floor and sobbed pathetically in front of Robin.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch" She let you cry into her on the floor. "Come on, you need to get out of here. Get changed. We are calling in sick, and we can return to my place."

Eddie woke up the morning after with a terrible hangover. It was already 12:35pm, and he couldn't remember how he got home. He suddenly felt an intense wave of nausea, which prompted him to hurry to the bathroom, where he vomited uncontrollably.

After the fifth shot, things in his memory become a little hazy. He was pretty hammered by then, but he still kept drinking with the boys. He vaguely remembered Jason being at the bar and making some leud comment about you, but other than that. Nothing.

He stumbled over to his answering machine to find it empty. That's weird? You always call him before your shift, and at least try to catch him on your lunch break. Today was Wednesday, right? You always work the morning shifts today.

Eddie tried calling your number, but he had no luck, so he tried calling your work, and when they said you called in sick, he got worried. So he tried your number again, and it still went to voice mail. Maybe you were sleeping? He tried calling back to see if Robin might know more. But when your annoyed coworker picked up the phone to tell him Robin also called in sick, he knew something was up.

Eddie rushed to his phone book to find Robin's number and called it. he waited for four rings until...

"Hello?"

"Hey! Rob it's Eddie, have you-"

"We are not speaking to you."

"We? Who's we?"

But it was too late. All he heard was the sound of the dial tone.

He tried again, no answer this time. He tried once more before getting pissed and decided to just go over to her place because what the fuck?

When Eddie got to Robin's, he pounded on the door like the pounding going on in his head.

"Robin! Open the door, please."

The door finally swung open to a very angry-looking Robin standing before him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Munson?!" She stepped outside and closed the door behind her so he couldn't come in.

"Robin, I'm extremely hungover and do not have the patience for your riddles. Do you know where my girl is or not? I'm worried sick."

"Oh, you can relax now since she is not your girl anymore, buddy." she poked his chest roughly. "you made that abundantly clear last night.

"Last night? I don't remember a thing from last night!"

"Well, think harder because she has been in there sobbing her eyes out from your little phone call."

"Phone call? What pho-" Then it all came rushing back to Eddie. It hit him like a Mack Truck.

"Yo Munson, where is that little whore of yours? Is she usually dangling off your arm like your little pet?" Jason snorted. "I bet she's off sucking another guy's cock; realized what a loser you are."

Jason didn't say much more to antagonize Eddie and get in his head, especially with the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

How could he be so stupid?

"Robin, oh my god, I fucked up. I fucked up big. Let me apologize."

"No. not now." She's a mess, as you can imagine-"

Robin was interrupted by the creek of the front door opening.

There you stood, looking as small as ever. Your eyes are still puffy, and your hair is a mess in your pyjamas at 1:30 in the afternoon.

"Baby, I-"

"Don't!" you cut him off, and Robin leaves to give you two spaces. "Don't you dare come here and think you can just take back what you said to me!" You had done a lot of crying; your anger was showing through.

"You don't understand, Jason was-"

"Jason?! What the fuck does Jason have to do with this? You hurt me, Eddie! I gave you everything! And then you throw it back in my face, accusing me of sleeping around? Are you insane? I've been in love with you for the last year and give myself to you, and you just throw that all away because of Jason Fucking Carver?"

"Baby, please, I'm so sorry; I'll do anything!"

"You've done enough." You turn and slam the door. That's it. You were done. Your heart felt so heavy… like it was just smashed into a million pieces. You were so close to caving when you saw the look of sorrow in those puppy dog eyes. But he had hurt you so bad you couldn’t believe he felt an ounce of pain he had inflicted upon you.

You and Eddie were officially done.

You have been radio silent. You were held up in your room, and you refused to do anything other than go to work.

Eddie called you excessively. It was every day, multiple times a day. His messages made your heartache as you played them back. You could hear in his voice how broken he was. He had fucked up so bad you didn’t know if you should give him another chance. For two weeks, you refused to answer your phone. You were so sick of it ringing you eventually took it off the line.

Eddie did everything he could think of to try and win you back. He sent you flowers to your work every single shift. He called, wrote love letters, and just needed you to speak to him. He was a desperate mess without you. Eddie’s heart, like not, was ripped into shreds, and it was all his fault.

You’ve been in his life since high school since he met you in hellfire freshman year. Then, once you finally confessed your feelings for one another, he couldn’t believe his luck. You said you wanted to be with him, that you wanted him to be the only one you give yourself to. He never thought that he would be so lucky... And here he was, shooting himself in the foot. He even tried to go to your apartment a few times. But you would never answer the door. He would leave a note each time he showed up unannounced. It would say how sorry he was and how much he loved you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.

The slurred words repeatedly played in your head, and you couldn’t make it stop. No matter how much he apologized, nothing he could say could make you forget. Your chest felt like it had a fifty-pound weight sitting right on your heart. Your eyes were permanently swollen from the continuous crying you couldn’t seem to stop. He had stolen your heart and then stomped on it until it seized to beat.

The first month after the breakup was rough, but avoiding Eddie seemed to be easy enough. He eventually got the message by month two and stopped trying altogether.

As time went on, you slowly started to heal. Eventually, your constant thoughts about Eddie subsided. Eventually, they stopped. You never thought you would get over the hurt, but the distance helped. You were getting on your merry way by month three. Finally, feeling like yourself again, eating regularly, sleeping regularly. You hadn’t heard or seen him, and you were finally freed from the prison sentence that was Eddie Munson.

Time spent with your friends and family was exactly what you needed. Even though Robin saw Eddie regularly, she never forgave him for what he did to you. Their friendship was strained, which strained his friendship with Steve as well as Nancy. They wanted to take his side, but once they heard what he had said to you, they couldn’t simply look the other way. So you would hang out with them when Eddie wasn’t there and vice versa. They made sure you never had to encounter one another for the time being. However, it was getting more and more difficult to have two separate schedules to appease you both.

You were to go to Steve’s for dinner with everyone, pizza and movie night. When you arrived, everyone was tense. Lines got crossed, miscommunication ensued, and as you walked through to the kitchen, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in his hand, almost slipping from his grip as his Bambi eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Oh shit!” You hear Steve curse when he realizes the mistake that has been made.

“I’m going to go.” You turn and sprint to the door.

“Not wait!l You can hear Eddie shuffle off the chair behind you, but you refuse to look back.

“Please! Wait!”

Threatening tears sting your eyes, and you rush out the front door.

“Sweetheart, wait.” You feel his hand hook your elbow as your body is jerked in the opposite direction in which you’re running.

“What!” You yell, but then you see his eyes. You really look at him for the first time in three months. He had bags under his eyes, and the dark circles extenuated the deep chocolate of his eyes.

“I-I uh,” he lets out a deep breath, “I wanted to say I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I was so god damn stupid, so so stupid, the dumbest guy on the planet. I can’t believe I fucked this up so badly; I love you. I love you so much. I can’t do this anymore without you, baby. Please.” He was on his knees, begging, literally on his knees, grovelling.

“Eddie, get up.”

“No, I don’t deserve it.” He was so pathetic, but he didn’t care. “I love you, please, just please. I need you in my life.”

“I don’t know Eddie…”

“So that’s not a no?!” He popped up like an excited little bunny, the silver oh hope he needed to get by.

“Eddie…” you sigh.

“No, no, you said maybe! You don’t know. You haven’t decided. Please, baby, I love you.”

“This is too hard.” Your lip wobbles as you try walking away again, but he interlocks your hand with his.

“Please, can I at least just hold you?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You let your hand slip from his grip, and he unwillingly let go.

Eddie felt you slipping through his fingers, literally. The hope he had moments ago was gone.

“I’m sorry”

“So am I…” without another look back, you walked away.

#Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine

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daydreamerdrew · 2 years

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The Defenders (1972) #34

#ick I don’t like this #Valkyrie’s ‘made contact with Barbara’s submerged consciousness’#I did not want this #note here that Valkyrie feels both compelled to reach out and touch Jack and to pull away from him #I don’t see that that has to be Valkyrie and Barbara connected tbh like I think she can be just one consciousness that’s confused #the way that Valkyrie tolerates Jack has largely read to me as feeling indebted to Barbara’s husband #like when she first saw him she didn’t recognize him at all #then when he told her who he was she was ‘horrified’ and ‘repulsed’#but she allowed him to be around her as he kept trying to convince her that they were husband and wife #which she was never open to as she understands (though he seems unable to) that she and Barbara aren’t the same person #when he kissed her she didn’t hurt him or anything #just said to never do that again or should would #whereas I think if it was anyone else who kissed her when she didn’t want them to then she would forcibly push them away #then later she says that she felt some attraction to him which to me as a reader just isn’t believable #because it isn’t being reflected in any of her actions or dialogue outside of that one panel #anyway so Valkyrie here being conflicted as to whether or not to reach out to Jack and pull away from him #reads much more to me like Valkyrie being conflicted between her sense of indebtedness to the husband of the woman whose body she resides in #and her distaste for him considering how he doesn’t respect her as Valkyrie and insists of thinking of her as Barbara #including being angry with her for not acting like a romantic partner and for not having Barbara’s memories #I don’t think the mixing of Valkyrie and Barbara is necessary to explain this #and I don’t think that’s an interesting direction to take her character #also Strange is so rude to her here #marvel #barbara denton #stephen strange #my posts #comic panels

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spilledartery · 12 days

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loveless union . . . ( kunikuzushi )

[ male reader, noble / clan ! au, angst, unrequited love, sex, cheating ( ? ), implied trans kuni, pregnancy – i need to feed my breeding kink, please bare with me. ]

it was an arranged marriage. neither you nor kunikuzushi wanted this, but since your clan was indebted to his clan, your parents had just proposed you to be married to the raiden heir. it was shocking how the heir’s mother, ei, agreed, given how she was the one who casted demise upon your clan.

the wedding ceremony came and went, and so did the past couple of years. kunikuzushi was harsh, he didn’t want this – he was forced to sever his ties with his ( secret ) lover from the kaedehara clan, he was forced to marry someone he never loved; you.

you never loved him, too, but, ever the gentleman you are, you treated him with care and respect. when he was sick, you’d tend to him, you would compliment him, you would never talk bad about him. despite his opposite treatment of you, you understand. neither of you wanted this.

it was easy to fool your families, too. whenever yours and his parents are on the same table, you and kunikuzushi would act the star-crossed lovers, making them believe that you’d learned how to love each other.

the two of you would laugh, stare at each other lovingly, hold each other’s hands, lean closer to whisper something in each other’s ears – even ei couldn’t help but watch fondly; you were taking good care of each other.

“the both of you aren’t getting any younger,” your mother gushed, somehow confident to talk, despite being in the same table of her rival woman. she took a sip of wine, sending you and kunikuzushi knowing looks. “when are you both supposed to bring forth your heirs, hm?”

beside you, kunikuzushi tensed, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. you understand, you always do.

your darling husband masked his true feelings with a seemingly shy smile. “oh,” he said, glancing at you with a soft look. “we... have been trying.”

you saw through those eyes, and you acted along. “my beloved is right, mother.” you took the boy’s hand and pressed a kiss on his knuckles. “it may take a while, but there will surely be little us’ running around the manor soon enough.”

“we will be expecting,” came the unreadable tone of kunikuzushi’s mother.

the next few months came by, and you and your husband are walking around the festivities. there were stalls, bustling vendors calling for the consumers’ attention. you two played the part of a married couple: you held hands, wrapped your arm around his waist, pressed close to each other – no one suspects a thing.

until you and kunikuzushi saw a certain boy with white hair and a red streak, he was staring at your husband. ah, it seems like they still have their affair going on, and you felt your heart shatter, just for a bit. you look down at kunikuzushi, who was in your arms, but looked longingly at his lover, the one he truly loved.

you let go of him. and he just looked up at you with hidden gratefulness, and rushed towards the kaedehara.

kunikuzushi didn’t return to your shared bed that night.

you understand, truly, you do. it was a good thing you stopped yourself on the brink of falling in love with him. you two may be married, but that didn’t mean you were meant for each other. you understand.

even now as you entered his body, after a week of the festival, of him with the kaedehara, you understand that the pleasure placed upon you is nothing but an obligation, a responsibility. it was to appease your families – to create an heir. even as you held kunikuzushi’s hand delicately as you pushed further into him, you knew that this union isn’t genuine.

you merely placed a kiss on his cheek as he reached his orgasm, and while you emptied inside of him, you murmured sweet nothings into his ear to calm him down after his high. and when he fell asleep without so much as a reply to you, you cleaned him and covered his naked body with the covers. you turned your body away from him, after – you know he wouldn’t be happy if he saw himself against your chest in the morning.

it was into six weeks when he began showing symptoms. kunikuzushi was nauseous, he continuously complained that his stomach was aching, and when you both talked to a trusted mage, they confirmed that you and kunikuzushi are expecting an heir.

you took good care of him. whenever something is aching, his shoulders, his feet, you would wordlessly massage him, you would bring him tea, knowing he loves bitterness; you played the part of being his husband, being a to-be father.

it was two months to his pregnancy that he felt his heart skipping a beat whenever you’re near. kunikuzushi told himself that he’d never feel something for you, he swore not to – but he couldn’t help it, not when you were taking such good care of him despite his attitude towards you. you never complained, never voiced out any discontent nor did you scowl at him when he always sent you a piercing glare.

perhaps, now, as your own family is beginning to grow, he could finally return the treatment you deserved from him, as his spouse.

it was strange when he began snuggling with you when you both went to sleep, when he began kissing your cheek, pecking your lips, smiling at you – it sent a small spark in your heart, but you don’t understand. is this because he’s only pregnant? he does not only crave for strange combinations of food, but also company? well, you still played along. you cared for him.

though it was unfortunate that during this time, you had to leave for mondstadt to attend some meeting – about creating allegiance there and whatnot. it was surprising that kunikuzushi kissed you passionately before you board the ship. you kissed him back just as fiercely, but you know it was merely for show because people are around; they wouldn’t want to see a supposed married couple being cold and distant to each other, especially when the spouse is to leave for many nights.

but what kunikuzushi wasn’t prepared for was the change of your demeanor when you came back. it wasn’t a bad change, but one that slowly broke kunikuzushi’s heart.

he was heavily pregnant, and he wore a robe too big to cover the bump in his belly – the bulge was still visible, but not much. kunikuzushi greeted you with a kiss on your cheek when you came home, asking how was your stay, if it was successful... though you answered these questions diligently, something was amiss.

no longer did you gaze warmly at him, but you became more distracted. you still cared for him, yes – but, now, kunikuzushi thinks it’s merely an obligation, nothing more, nothing less. your touches were more genuine then, now, it lacks those. when he kisses you, it was you who would pull away first and just kiss his forehead before turning away from him.

what had happened?

sometimes, he’d watch you write down on a parchment. it became a normal occurrence now. who were you writing for, he never asked. when you receive letters, he’d watch you smile – that smile that was once directed at him, but now it was more honest, like the reason for it was deeper.

he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, invading your privacy. you were asleep, and he walked to the dresser where you kept all the letters you’d been receiving. kunikuzushi subconsciously placed his hand on his baby bump as he unfolded a paper and read.

ah.

it seems you’d found someone who piqued you interest while you were in mondstadt. the way this person wrote to you was far from being friendly. it was as if...

kunikuzushi wiped a tear that fell from his eye. a couple more flowed through his cheeks, though, and he didn’t care wipe them anymore.

had he been too late love you? was it too late for you to love him?

reminiscing of the times when he treated you harshly, when he talked so bad about you, when he disregarded your opinions, when he rolled his eyes at your compliments, when he felt disgusted whenever you kiss his knuckles... perhaps, he does deserve this, and perhaps you’ve finally found someone you loved outside the marriage, as he had been with his affair with the kaedehara before. he deserves this.

kunikuzushi understands.

#[ lost stories . . . ]#top male reader #male reader #dom male reader #sub kunikuzushi #bottom kunikuzushi #sub scaramouche #bottom scaramouche #scaramouche x male reader #kunikuzushi x male reader #angst #unrequited love

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dirtytomatoedwrites · 7 months

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INDEBTED

Summary: When your father's scandal threatens your family's legacy, Rafe makes you an offer you can't refuse.

Paring: Rafe Cameron x KookFem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Choking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.

Word Count: 4.8k words

Author's Note: 1000 followers! Wow, I never thought I'd reach 1000 followers. A part of me believes that half of these are bots, but regardless, to those who are real and have decided to join me in my little corner of the Tumblr woods, thank you. Your love and support, especially during these trying times, means a lot. I had this one shot sitting in my drafts for a while and thought I'd finish the damn thing and share it as a thank you. But heed those warnings : it's a dark one. Much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

Embezzlement.

What a weird word.

It rolls off the tongue with an unfamiliar bitterness. It's the kind of term you'd see in a crossword puzzle, nestled between "clandestine" and "malevolent." You never imagined it would be splashed across news headlines with your family's name and the face of your father in the centre.

For years, your family was among the shining stars of Figure 8, leaders in hospitality, prestige, and wealth. Your home was the epicenter of elegance, the heartbeat of social galas. But now, news vans line the perimeter of your estate, their cameras hungry for a glimpse of the fallen dynasty. While online vultures, under the guise of investigative websites, sift through every chapter of your family's history.

Naturally, it caused a ripple, and as the waves of the scandal crashed onto the shores of Figure 8 with relentless force, family friends who once sought your company now wrestled with their association to yours. The 'friends' who once envied your galas and soirées now whisper behind closed doors.

It was the talk of every gathering. At lunches, tennis courts, even the marina; your family’s name was whispered with a mix of pity and sensationalism. Every disclosed detail, every leaked piece of evidence, threatens to shatter the glass pedestal upon which your family once stood unchallenged.

Yet, amidst the tempest of rumors and glares, your mother remains the eye of the storm. Resolute and graceful, she doesn't waver. The titan of Figure 8's social scene, she's always known how to command a room, and this scandal won't rob her of that gift.

Tonight, at the Midsummer ball, she's an emblem of defiance against the rising tide of whispers. And she does it so effortlessly. She glides through the crowd with that same charismatic charm. She smiles warmly, asking about children and recent vacations, pets, and passion projects, extending olive branches even when met with frosty receptions and curt replies.

You, however, are not as composed. The weight of judgmental gazes is too suffocating, the murmurs too piercing. The confines of the ball, with its glittering chandeliers and faux smiles, become a prison. With each passing moment, the walls seem to close in further. You need air. A moment of solitude. An escape from the suffocating pretense.

Whispering a quick excuse to your mother about needing the powder room, you slip away. The soft hum of the party fades behind you as you venture down a paved stone path, leading to the beach. The cool breeze and rhythmic waves provide solace, a stark contrast to the stifling ambiance of the party.

You had taken off the flower crown your mother had insisted you wear and were about to remove your shoes when you heard it: the soft crunch of footsteps on sand, drawing closer.

Hesitantly, you turned, finding him. The one whose eyes often sought yours in a crowd. Whose lingering gazes you'd always felt but habitually ignored. The same person who continually asked you out, oftentimes rudely and crudely. The one you had rejected, rebuffed, and shut down more times than you could count.

Rafe Cameron.

"Came to rub salt in my wounds?" you asked, unable to mask the bitterness in your voice.

"Now why would I want to do such a thing?" Rafe murmured. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his lips. The soft flicker of the lighter momentarily illuminated his face, revealing a brief smirk before the darkness cloaked him again. "I thought you might appreciate some company instead."

The word 'appreciate' ricocheted around your mind, sounding almost absurd in this situation. Company? From Rafe Cameron? The notorious Kook King of Figure 8, a classic case book narcissist who, you were certain, had probably raised a toast to the scandal engulfing your family. At this moment, you'd rather eat glass than accept his sympathy. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the sea, barely acknowledging his presence.

“I'm not in the mood to talk, Rafe," your voice steady but seething with restrained frustration. Your eyes remained locked onto the undulating waves before you. The smell of sea-salt filled your nostrils, and for a fleeting moment, you felt at peace. It lasts all of two seconds before Rafe opens his mouth again.

"Fine, I'll talk. You listen," he asserts, as he settles against a rock. He leisurely inhales from his cigarette before blowing out a plume of smoke into the night air. You can feel his contemplative gaze on you; it becomes evident in the softened timbre of his voice when he speaks again. “You know, it's downright shitty what they're doing to your dad. To your family. To you... I can't stand by and watch."

A scornful laugh escapes you as you finally meet his gaze. "Well, life's not exactly handing out fairness certificates, is it?"

He shook his head, "No, it isn’t. But, it still doesn't make it right. It doesn’t make it fair when your dad claims he’s innocent—”

“My dad is innocent,” you assert fiercely, standing tall, arms crossed defiantly over your chest.

“Oh, I believe he is. But the world? Not so much. Your dad’s always been good to my family. My old man took it hard when he heard. I mean, of all the people on Figure 8 to be arrested for embezzlement, your dad was the last person anyone would suspect—”

“What's your point, Rafe?” You snapped, clearly about to lose the last shred of patience you had.

"I’ve been thinking about it alot, and maybe my family can help.”

Skepticism etched itself clear as day on your face. It seemed ironic that Rafe felt his family could help when Rose and Ward shunned your parents the moment the news broke.

“And how do you propose to do that?" you asked, your voice tinged with mistrust.

Rafe shrugged, a casual gesture that contradicted the gravity of the situation. "My dad, he's got connections—”

“So do mine,” you shot back.

“But did yours play golf with Senator Whitfield every Saturday? Rain or shine? Nah, didn’t think so.”

You felt a moment of silence envelop you both, the distant murmurs of the sea a constant reminder of the world moving around you.

"Alright, I'll bite," you said with a lick of your lips. "What do you want in return? You're clearly not doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

Rafe flicked his cigarette onto the sand, extinguishing it with a deliberate twist of his shoe. As he stepped closer, moonlight illuminated his eyes, giving them an almost predatory glow.

“You've got me," he admitted, his smirk devoid of warmth. “I do want something in return. Something that has been on my mind. Something I’ve wanted for a long time now. You."

A shiver raced down your spine, a cocktail of revulsion and trepidation. Retreating a step, your voice quivered but remained defiant.

"So, you're after a date?" You clarified, eyes narrowing. The same date he'd pestered you for, relentlessly, over the past year. The same date you'd denied him repeatedly, because despite being handsome, Rafe Cameron's moral compass seemed nonexistent.

Rafe scratched his ear as he moved slowly toward you, his expression pained as though what he was about to reveal would hurt him far more than it would hurt you.

"Yeah, see, a date won't begin to cover what I'm risking for your old man, given his rap sheet is longer than my arm. No, what I want is far more... rewarding," his voice sank to a sultry whisper as he towered over you.

"And what would that be?" you asked, tension crackling in the air between you.

"I want to be able to fuck you whenever and however I want—for a month, maybe two, perhaps even a year..." he shrugged slowly, "The specifics are negotiable, but doesn't that sound fair? A little pussy in exchange for your dad's freedom?”

The slap was instinctual. Swift. The sting on your palm matched only by the shock on Rafe's face. For a split second, everything was still.

Rafe's eyes turned to steel, his demeanor shifting chillingly in a heartbeat. He closed in, his voice a venomous whisper slicing through the salty sea air. "You must have a death wish," he hissed, an unmistakable dangerous edge to his words. His hand gingerly brushed his reddening jaw, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. "Your dad's freedom? It's dangling by the thinnest thread... The right words from a senator could decide whether he walks free or becomes someone's bitch behind bars."

He paused, his gaze falling to the flower crown in your hand. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out to touch it, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate petals, an almost gentle gesture that was jarringly at odds with the tension of the moment.

"If you want to help your dad, having a friend like me might be your best bet." he murmured. "Think it over, yeah?" His gaze lifted back to yours, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you whispered, disgust fueled your retreat as you stormed away, his chilling laugh echoing ominously in the night air.

"You will, princess. When you come to your senses, you will."

Rafe's lingering words pressed on you, growing heavier with each breath. The looming possibility of your father's life behind bars became ever more ominous as Rafe presented a potential solution—a solution with an inconceivable price tag.

How could he even insinuate such a thing? The mere suggestion repulsed you, igniting a fury at Rafe's audacity. Yet the unease gnawing at your belly made you question: to what lengths would you go to save your dad? With your family facing disgrace and teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, Rafe's proposal offered a faint glimmer of hope, even if it took the ugliest of forms.

In the solitude of your bedroom, the pristine walls seemed to close in, just like the midsummer ball. Picking up your phone, you stared at the screen, the bright white light harsh against the dim setting. The contacts list stared back, an overwhelming list of names, none of whom had reached out during your family's time of need.

You scrolled, hesitating briefly before landing on Rafe's name. A whirlwind of emotions — from anger to desperation — consumed you as you pressed on it. Trembling fingers typed, deleted, and retyped a message multiple times, finally settling on the simplest of words.

"We need to talk."

Almost immediately, three dots danced on the screen.

"Tomorrow 7pm, Tannyhill.”

Was Rafe’s curt response.

You could barely sleep that night, as your mind raced, forming what you hoped was a semblance of a plan. You needed to negotiate on your terms, to retain some shred of dignity. It wasn't a detailed strategy, but it was enough to at least get through Rafe's offer with your sanity.

The next day as you approached Tannyhill, you whispered silent affirmations to yourself, reaffirming your resolve, your worth, and the necessity of your mission.

And then, there he was. Rafe Cameron, leaning casually against the frame of the ornate door, a picture of wealth and arrogance, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the impending darkness of the evening.

Rafe opened the door for you, his face betraying a flicker of something you couldn't quite read, but there was no turning back now. You stepped in, ready to negotiate with the devil himself if it meant saving your family.

"Where's everyone?" you asked, there was no point in exchanging pleasantries. Nothing about the situation was remotely pleasant.

"Movies. You know, I hadn't expected a text from you so soon." his voice dripped with condescension, "I was betting on at least a week or two."

"Yeah well, it is my dad's life on the line," your footsteps echoed with purpose as you followed him into the living room, eyes steeling for the battle ahead. "The sooner we finalize our agreement, the quicker you can pull whatever strings you have, right?"

Rafe spun around, his gaze locking onto yours. The sly curve of his lips unsettling. "Sure, I’ll make a few calls,” he stated, voice dark and sardonic, "but it'll depend on the terms we agree to."

"Alright…” you braced yourself, your arms folded trying to regain control. "Let's start with how lon--"

“A year,” Rafe cut in, not breaking eye contact.

"That's out of the question. A month," you shot back.

His chuckle resonated with an underlying seriousness, his eyes narrowing in focus "Sure, we can say a month. You willing to fuck me at least twice a day? No? Then eleven."

You straightened your back, your resolve hardening. "Two months, tops."

His eyes gleamed as he considered your counteroffer. "How about this, we keep our little arrangement going until your dad's free. It could be a month, maybe two…” he shrugged nonchalantly “It might even be a year. It depends on how soon he’s out. What do you think?"

You hesitated, visibly weighing the implications of such an open-ended commitment. Your dad’s charges were serious. The chances of those charges disappearing and him being released in a month seemed like a miracle. "What if it drags on for years?" you whispered.

Rafe’s grin grew more pronounced, relishing your distress. "Well, princess, that's for you to decide. You can always walk away whenever you think it’s unbearable. Does that seem fair?"

"Okay, fine. Now about condoms--”

“Not using them--”

“Oh, we’re using them. I’m not interested in having your kid, Rafe, and I’m certainly not interested in catching anything from you.”

“While I should be fucking insulted” he said dryly “I always glove up and get tested regularly too.”

“Okay, so why are you suddenly against using condoms with me, then?”

“Because I promised myself…” he said slowly, his voice lowering as he made his way towards you, “If I ever got the chance to fuck you, I'd do it raw.”

Your jaw clicked, your hands itching to slap him again. “Weren’t you fooling around with Letizia a couple of weeks back?”

“Yeah, so? I was gloved up.”

“I don't care. You've slept with half the girls on figure 8. I want you fully tested before we even think about doing anything. Condoms every time, no excuses.”

“Alright. I’ll get tested. Condoms while fucking, no condoms for blowjobs.”

"Yeah, about that, I'm not doing oral.'” you said folding your arms in resignation.

Rafe's eyes bore into yours, annoyance coloring his features.

"No. No. You don’t get to dictate how I fuck you." he snapped, his voice taking on edge of authority. "Look, i’m willing to let you negotiate a few terms, give you some semblance of control but it’s got to be worth my while, and for it to be worth it, I get to fuck you how I want, when I want.”

You swallowed, feeling your resolve waver.

"Now, here's what I want to make this deal work: when I call, you answer. No matter the place, no matter the time. You show up. Clear?" Rafe said.

You paused before giving a hesitant nod, the magnitude of your agreement dawning on you.

"And if I ask you to wear something specific, you will. No questions. We have a deal?"

Your throat tightened as his demands began to overwhelm you, but you managed a brief nod in response.

"Remember, fail to meet my terms, and our deal ends. Understood?"

Another nod.

"Anything else?"

“When will you make the call?” you asked quickly.

“After our first session,” he proposed, his smile revealing a hint of anticipation. “After that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure your dad’s free”

" I want proof. I want proof that you’d stick to your part of the deal.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good." you said as you took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Get tested and send me the results," you responded, you're tone neutral, treating it as a standard business transaction. "I'll do the same. We can then choose a time and date."

Rafe nodded in agreement, his gaze intense and piercing.

You extended your hand towards him.

"What's that for?" he chuckled lowly.

"A handshake. To seal the deal."

Rafe reached out, his arms enveloping you in a firm yet tender grasp, pulling you against him. It took everything within you to not push him away. "How about we seal this deal with a kiss, hmm?" he murmured, "Especially since we'll be doing a lot more than kissing very soon."

Rafe leaned in, letting his lips graze yours. But you stiffened, instinctively tilting your head so that his lips met your cheek instead. A soft chuckle escaped him as he retreated just a fraction.

“Ah ah” he chided. With his fingers gently but firmly cradling your jaw, he directed your face back to his, an unsettling tension growing palpable between you.

"Play. Nice.” he whispered, his voice considerably smug. "Kiss me. Like you mean it." It wasn't a mere request; it was a command that left you feeling completely cornered.

A battle of wills ensued; neither of you making the first move, both of you waiting for the other to blink first. Rafe's eyes never left your own as he leaned in once again, his determination clear.

His tongue gently pushed past your parted lips, and you allowed it, setting off a delicate yet conflicting dance between your tongues and lips.

Groaning into your mouth, his eyes shut as the kiss deepened, carrying an undeniable intensity. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping at your tender flesh until his tongue lashed hungrily against yours sending a peculiar mix of tingles and dread coursing through you.

Finally, you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath while your chest heaved. Rafe remained close, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his breathing matching your intensity.

"I'll get tested first thing tomorrow," he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and desire. "Make sure you do, too."

"All clear."

That was the message Rafe sent you two days after your heated conversation, accompanied by a screengrab of his test results. Without hesitation, you replied, sending him your own results in return.

As your fingers tapped across the screen, a surge of disgust washed over you. The very idea of being intimate with Rafe was anything but appealing; it fact, it made you feel sick.

You'd never choose Rafe of your own volition. Sure he was handsome but his excessive drinking and drug habits were repellant, and his disdain and bullying nature towards the Pogues was disturbing. None of his qualities were remotely attractive, let alone fuckable.

But then, the stern, resilient part of you asserted itself, urging you to focus on the goal at hand.

This was not about you or Rafe; it was about orchestrating your father's release from prison, a critical mission where failure wasn't an option. With this clear objective ingrained in your mind, you steeled your resolve, preparing yourself for what lay ahead.

When he proposed meeting up that same night, you didn't find it strange given Rafe's impulsive nature. However, the location he suggested did catch you off guard.

It wasn't Tannyhill, the somewhat familiar and comfortable place you had anticipated, but instead, an unfamiliar address. The randomness of the location set off tiny alarms in the back of your mind, making you wary but you took a deep breath, quickly typing out your response-

"I'll be there."

It wasn't just any random address, as you initially thought.

At the front of a gated tree-lined drive stood a prominent sign declaring, “Cameron Developments.” The freshly poured concrete and stacks of lumber clearly indicated that it was a home under renovation.

As you made your way along the winding path, unease gripped you, but the sight of Rafe’s truck haphazardly parked near the entrance reassured you that you had indeed reached the right place.

The estate was draped in an unsettling darkness, punctuated only by the soft chirping of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl, and the sporadic glow of work lights from inside, hinting at the ongoing renovations.

Exiting your car, you took a moment to absorb the scene before approaching the house. With each step towards the porch, your heart rate quickened. But before you could even announce your presence, the heavy door groaned open, revealing the looming presence of Rafe.

His expression, obscured by the shadows and dim work lights from within, gave away nothing. Without a word, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter, then closed the door and locked it.

A knot formed in your throat, a cocktail of dread and adrenaline. Pushing the mounting fear aside, you gathered your voice, attempting to sound braver than you felt. "Alright, let's get this over with," you said.

A wicked grin tugged at the corner of Rafe's lips. You felt an icy dread settle in your chest. "Oh, we will," he murmured, "But first, I want to play a game... to make things... interesting." The atmosphere grew heavy, oppressive.

"One minute" he said, as he cracked his neck from side to side, his eyes boring into you. "You get a one-minute head start and after that, after that--" he sighed happily "I'm coming for you. Run."

Panic gripped you. "Run? What? What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean run?" you stammered, your voice edged with rising panic.

But his eyes were cold, devoid of humor or empathy. He leaned closer, his voice a menacing hiss that left no room for interpretation. "Run."

A rush of adrenaline hit you, and without another word, you sprinted past him as if your very life depended on it.

You had no clear destination in mind, only the primal instinct to run and hide. Every fiber of your being was attuned to survival. Heart pounding in your chest, you sprinted up the grand staircase, taking the steps three at a time, feeling the weight of your own desperation in every leap.

At the top, a maze of doors and hallways stretched out before you. You lunged for the nearest one, finding yourself in a dimly lit bedroom freshly painted in white. Shadows danced on the walls from the solitary work light, and your gaze immediately snapped to a closet on your right.

Without hesitation, you slipped inside, gently closing the door behind you. The smell of paint and cedar filled your nostrils. Placing a trembling hand over your mouth, you tried to muffle the sound of your heavy, ragged breathing.

Gently, so as not to make a sound, you nudged the slatted shutter doors of the closet closed, leaving only thin slivers of the room visible – distorted, but enough to keep watch.

The ominous sound of footsteps reached your ears; they were methodical, unhurried. Rafe was searching, savoring the hunt. You watched in horror as his elongated shadow, cast by the work light, drifted across the closet. A cold sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to fight back the urge to gasp as the shadow paused momentarily by the closet doors.

After what felt like an eternity, the shadow moved away, and you heard his footsteps retreating. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, you gave yourself a moment to gather your bearings. But you knew all too well you couldn't remain hidden for long; he would inevitably retrace his steps and find you.

Gathering your courage, you carefully eased the closet doors open and quickly scanned the room for an escape route. Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you made your move. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you tiptoed across the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards that might betray your presence. But the moment you stepped out of the bedroom, you collided with a solid mass.

Rafe's eyes pierced through to your soul, pure hunger reflected in them as he stared down at you. His hand clamped around your throat, pulling you close as the smell of your fear and his cologne filled your nostrils in a nauseating mix. His lips crushed against yours, ravaging your mouth with an intensity that nearly made you faint.

As your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, you frantically writhed in his grip. Your fists relentlessly pounded against his arm, trying to get him to relinquish his hold on you, but it was no use. In one swift motion, Rafe backed you into the bedroom and forcefully dragged you to the floor, your fingers wildly clawing at his arm as you searched for any type of leverage you could find.

Rafe ravished your neck with unbridled hunger, his other hand violently tugged at your skirt and panties, scraping the skin of your thighs until finding your moist center—the slippery wetness signifying your surrender to pleasure. Rafe groaned as his fingertips slid through your slick folds and into you causing you to gasp at the white-hot jolts of pleasure.

"For someone who's only doing this to save their dad, you're soaked..." Rafe laughed breathlessly, trailing a line of wet kisses up your throat. "All that sanctimonious bullshit about what you will and won't do and look at you, fucking dripping for my cock—”

"Fuck you!" you screeched, a potent mixture of embarrassment and venomous rage coursing through you has you writhing beneath him, your determination to push him off almost frantic.

"That's it—fight back," he jeered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Fight back. It'll make this all the more satisfying."

You kicked and screamed, only for Rafe to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands connected your wrists together over your head. In a single move, he flipped you onto your stomach and straddled you from behind, his erection pressing against your ass.

One of Rafe's hands tears off your panties, your screams in protest seize immediately as Rafe stuffed the flimsy cotton into your mouth.

"There" he taunted with a sinister chuckle, pressing you down further as you desperately attempted to wriggle free. You strained to let out a scream, your voice stifled by the makeshift gag.

That same hand worked feverishly to free himself from his pants. You could feel the throbbing heat of his erection at the cleft of your ass. Could hear him tearing open the condom packet with his teeth, the necessary prelude to satiating his ever-growing hunger.

Not too long after he was grinding the head of his cock against your wetness while you fought to express your protests through the gag.

"No, no, this is what we've agreed to. What you agreed to..." Rafe's breath hitched as his cock slid over your weeping slit. With one hard, raw thrust, barely allowing you time to adjust to his girth, he plunged himself deep inside you.

He wasted no time, immediately beginning his relentless thrusts, utterly indifferent to your muffled struggles behind the gag. Your body writhed beneath his weight, your movements punctuated by desperate grunts, the hardwood floor beneath you offering no mercy.

After a brief moment, Rafe released your wrists and drew you closer, his grip on your hips unwavering as he continued to drive into you with unrelenting force. Your head spun as you gradually surrendered to the powerful cadence of his movements. His hands clung to you possessively, guiding both of you in a desperate, synchronized dance. Every nerve in your body ignited, primal heat surging from deep within.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your body succumbed to his unyielding force. Despite the freedom of your hands, you found yourself paralyzed, incapable of resisting or offering any form of resistance. Instead, you relinquished control, allowing Rafe to claim you entirely.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna cum. Cum with me," he growled through gritted teeth, his tempo increasing to a punishing pace.

You weakly shook your head, 'no,' your determination unwavering as you fought to maintain control over your desires. The mere thought of your pleasure becoming entangled with his, sullied and exploited for his depraved fantasies, was something you could not bear.

"Oh, you'll cum-" he sneered.

In a sudden, ominous gesture, he swiftly removed his leather belt from its loop around his pants and coiled it around your neck, pulling and winding it tightly around his fist.

"If you want to breathe, you'll cum," he snarled, pounding you with relentless force. The room was filled only with the sound of your choked gasps for air, Rafe's ragged breaths, the creak of the leather as he tightened his grip, and the rhythmic punishing slap of his hips against your flesh. You fought with every ounce of your being not to succumb to your impending orgasm, tears streaming uncontrollably from your eyes as you waged a futile battle.

The room reverberated with your agonized screams as your orgasm overtook you. Your muscles tensed and quivered beneath you, each wave of pleasure crashing over you like a violent tsunami drowning you. Your fingers clawed at the belt constricting your throat, the leather biting into your skin and to your abject horror, you were gushing around his cock as you climaxed.

Rafe fucked you with a feverish frenzy, burying his face in the back of your neck. With a triumphant roar, Rafe's orgasm struck, and he shuddered against you, muffling his moans of pleasure into your skin as he stuffed his cock deep.

Sated and content, he collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored, the condom filled with his cum. After a moment, he withdrew and shifted to lie beside you.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you managed to free yourself from the tight confines of the belt and the stifling gag that had cruelly silenced you. Every fiber of your being, every muscle in your body, screamed with raw pain as you gulped in fresh air, each breath feeling like a hard-won victory. Tears of relief and anguish streamed down your face, and with a shaky hand, you hastily brushed them away.

The room seemed to sway, a disorienting blend of fear, relief, and vertigo threatening to drag you into terrifying darkness.

Yet, slicing through the fog of your distress was the haunting sound of Rafe's laughter. His voice was breathless, yet unmistakably gleeful. His fingers, dampened with sweat, raked through his messy hair, highlighting his heightened state of manic exhilaration.

"Next time," he grinned, a chilling promise lacing his words, "Next time, we'll use rope."

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

Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please like/reblog/drop a comment would love to know what you think. Until next time ❤️

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #dark!rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #obx #18+ read #dirtytomatoedwrites #dark rafe cameron #smut warning

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bluerosefox · 1 month

Text

Our Strengths

"What do we do now? Tucker asked. His voice cracking with stress and worry as he stared at the scene before him not able to look away as his best friend and his family were being dragged out of their home.

Danny cuffed in anti-ghost cuffs and knocked the heck out with a ecto-gun pointed at his skull by one of the GIW agents, they eventually tossed Danny into their van that was parked right outside the Fenton Works. Jazz was pleading, begging them to let her brother go, even though she too was cuffed and not caring that another gun was at her back. Maddie was hissing like angry feral mama cat at the two agents, ignoring the other two that were holding her shoulders to keep her from squirming around and saying "you dare touch a single hair on my babies I will rip-" before she too was lead away to the GIW van. The last to come out was Jack and he looked haunted and stressed, and despite being a huge guy he was trying to make himself look small. He too was sent into the van, and one of the last things Tucker could see before the doors close was Jack kneeling down next to Danny and going to cradle him but being stopped by the GIW agent in the van.

Sam chewed on her lip, her eyes wide and wild as she tried to think of... well anything to save her friend and his family from this.

To think Vlad would be so petty after Danny finally told his parents about being Phantom and them accepting and loving him regardless and even apologizing for trying to hurt him that he would go and tattle to the GIW about Phantom.

Danny hadn't even told them about Vlad being a halfa either. Not even a bit. All Danny told them was that Vlad made him super uncomfortable. About how the guy seemed obsessed with his mom but seemed to be shifting his obsession to him.

And for once Jack listened, especially after Maddie finally told him the times the man flirted with her and had even tried getting her to leave Jack. With only Danny. No mention of Jazz, only Danny.

After that Jack turned papa bear mode.

Say what you will about Jack Fenton but his love for his family outweighs any kind of friendship.

So yeah Vlad finding himself being 'cut out' of the Fenton's lives, realizing the only times he could even get close to Maddie and Danny was because Jack was always welcoming to him, and finding out Jack point blank said he no longer wanted him around his family, he raged and decided to get back at Danny was to go tell the GIW about him being Phantom.

No doubt the creep was going to show up later, 'save' them and start making demands or indebt them to him.

And now here they were. The Fenton's, after being told about Phantom, were being unjustified hauled away by the GIW while all of Amity watches from the streets and despite the protest from, mostly teens, Amity Parkers no one could do anything with both weapons pointed at them or the 'law' decree.

Closing her eyes, Sam took a breath. When she opened them back up she finally looked away as the van and the rest of the GIW began to leave, her hands clutched so tight that her knuckles were turning a deadly white. When she finally released her grip she felt something in her hand.

Confused, Sam opened her hand and gasped as she recognized a familiarish green sticky note and words written in purple ink. She's never read any of the sticky notes CW would send Danny but she has seen them appear out of no where.

She read the note, ignoring Tuckers questioning, and once done she snapped her head to look at him. It was so fast that Tucker jumped for a second. Her eyes were alight with a new found kindle of hope, determination, and a plan.

"Sam? What is it?" Tucker finally asked once more, he had a feeling whatever she had in mind was going to be insane but if it sent by CW and meant to save his best friend he'd do it.

"We play into our strengths and get some help." She said as she brought the sticky note up for him to see.

"Help? From who?" Tucker asked as he took the note and instantly noticed the drawn symbols on the bottom. When he snapped his head back up to look at Sam his mouth fell open and he said in shock, awe, and disbelief "No. No way. Them? But I thought-"

"Gonna stop you right there Tucker. Remember what Dani told us last month? About that new under the radar teen hero group?" Sam cut in.

"OOoooh. Them.... Yeah I can totally get behind asking them over asking the adults." Tucker responded, his mind coming up with a plan as the sticky note words played into his head 'Use your strengths'

"Good we have no time to loose. I'll contact Dani to find out where we can find their base, you get ready to hack and find what you can so I can use it to help... persuade them into helping us."

-x-x-

Young Justice was having a normal, well as normal as a bunch of super-powered and very well trained teens could have day.

Or at least it was until their comms and entire system were hacked by an unknown hacker, a goth girl appearing on their main sceen and her saying this

"Hey, Young Justice right? Look I'll be blunt about this. We need help, our best friend and his family got taken by some shady government jerks that wanna experiment on him and we need to save them. It's a long story. However, we do not like the JL too much and don't trust them, we have our reasons, so to make sure you don't go crying to them, we're taking your systems hostage and blackmailing you with things our hacker found out." Her eyes narrowed at them, her face in a scowl and it left no room for negotiations at all, she was determined to get things her way "So that's the deal. Help us save our best friend and his family while not letting the JL know, and we let go of your systems and forget about what we found out."

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ryohell · 1 year

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Fem!reader as an older sister figure

ੈ♡˳ Character(s): Muichiro Tokito, Shinobu Kocho, Giyuu Tomioka

ੈ♡˳ Reader: Female

ੈ♡˳ Warning(s): Small mentions of death in Shinobu and Giyuu

Muichiro Tokito

❥ Muichiro first met you when he became a Hashira. He was so young and was able to become a Hashira so quickly which intrigued you a lot. Since you two are colleagues, It's normal to want to get to know who you'll be working with for the next couple years.

❥ A lot of conversations with Muichiro were short and sometimes awkward, you try to ask him questions but it's like he doesn't hear you speaking and if he does he starts off his answer and then start drifting off again. It worried you a lot that sometimes he couldn't finish his sentences without dissociating. But that didn't stop you, you tried you best to help him with things that he would normally forget.

❥ Little by little you were knowing more about him, even if it sometimes did take a day or two to get a full answer but it was still something and enough to make you filled with joy. Eventually, the more you two talked the easier it was to get a response out of him, it was like he was slowly coming out of this shell he had himself in. The other Hashiras were surprised from how well you two got along since they couldn't get as close to Muichiro as you did.

❥ Months had passed and he was practically attached to your hip, if you went to town he went, if you went on a mission he also tagged along. It was quite adorable to the others how he followed you around like a lost puppy. He didn't quite understand his feelings himself, why he feels so safe around you and wanted to be by your side all the time. ❥ To compare, it was like the fog after it rains is clearing up when the sun comes out. His mind was the fog and you were the light that helped cleared it. Being around you made him feel like his younger self when his family was around. He'll never be able to see his late family again but.... sometimes you can meet others that aren't related by blood that can also be your family. And that's what he concluded with what he's been feeling. ❥ You are the family that he's been yearning for the past couple years.

Shinobu Kocho

❥ You were friend's with Shinobu older sister, Kanae. When she passed away you two were overwhelmed with sorrow, Shinobu was the one who told you of her passing since you weren't there with their battle with the upper moon.

❥ Even though you both were in need of comfort, you felt it was more of your responsibility to comfort Shinobu since you were older than she was. Kanae trusted you with Shinobu in case she was no longer around and that was the day you made sure to never leave Shinobus side. ❥ Shinobu was forever grateful that you were still with her, ever since her sister passed away, her way of controlling her emotions was getting better with your help. She was indebted to you from all the times you've comforted her through hardships. ❥ You were like a second older sister to her and because of that she was quite clingy. She didn't want what happened to her sister to happen with you. Even though you both were Hashiras and you could definitely defend yourself when needed, she still felt the need to protect you.

Giyuu Tomioka.

❥ You've been a hashira for a little more than a year now, but even so you and Giyuu were more like acquaintances, atleast in your eyes. You tried your best to know him better but he was so closed off and because he doesn't tell anything about himself you didn't know exactly why and just thought that he was just a shy introvert. ❥ But for Giyuu he was scared, he didn't want to get close to someone and they die the next day. Being apart of the Demon Slayer Corps means you've signed your life away and because of that Giyuu didn't want to make friends with someone and feel the sorrow of them dying in battle.

❥ He knows everything about you from when you two talk yet you didn't know much about him, it was mostly one way talking. He seen your interactions with everyone else and was a bit envious about it. You didn't hesitate to save others and always checked up on others to see how they were, and that included him too. it reminded him a lot of his late older sister. ❥ The ache in his chest every time you spoke to him grew bigger each time, he pretended that he didn’t care in hopes you'd stop speaking with him but that didn't work. He hated how much he could feel his self getting slowly attached towards you because of how comforting being around you was. ❥ Slowly, Giyuu started letting his walls down, even though he was afraid he decided he wanted to try stepping out of his shell for once. And he didn’t regret it for now. He came to you a lot of times when he was stuck with something and didn’t know what to do. He started coming to you when he felt down one day and wanted to just be around someone. ❥ Giyuu seen you as family and it terrified him a bit that he let someone become that close with him. But it’s okay for him to finally find solace in someone, right?

♡ Thanks for reading ♡

#Muichiro x reader #Shinobu x reader #Giyuu x reader #Demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #Muichiro Tokito x reader #Shinobu Kocho x reader #Giyuu Tomioka x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kny muichiro #kny shinobu #kny giyuu #muichiro tokito #shinobu kocho #giyuu tomioka

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piracytheorist · 8 months

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I feel like something that gets overlooked when analyzing Yuri's excessive feelings for his sister is that when it comes to the Forgers, he distrusts Loid but isn't jealous of him; the one he's jealous of is Anya.

Like, I see people interpret his feelings for Yor as creepy, weird and inappropriate when in reality it's just that they're mixed between seeing her as his naive big sister and seeing her as his primary caregiver. His main motive driving him forward and into the extremism of the State Security Service is making the country a safe space for her to live in, but at the same time he gets all elated when he gets to spend time with her. Hence why he's distrusting of Loid - because he doesn't know for sure if Loid is a safe person for Yor to be around - and jealous of Anya - because she gets to have all the fun with Yor that he once had as a kid.

As he says, when he was little he felt so powerless to do anything to help her that the moment he was able to be financially independent he jumped at the opportunity, probably hoping that if he became independent then Yor wouldn't need work herself bloody for his sake. So circumstances led him to getting further and further away from her - both in a physical sense as his job requires him to spend a lot of time away, and emotionally as he lies to her about what he's truly doing - and I think he hasn't realized how much that has impacted him emotionally. Spy x Family is a story all about human connection. It makes sense that someone who adores his big sister and feels indebted to her for sacrificing her teenage years (and in his view, her well-being) will be having issues upon becoming distanced from said sister. I don't think I need to say it's not a mature thing to be jealous of a first-grader.

Of course, I'm not condemning him. He definitely has a lot of space to grow, I just think it's interesting and very on-topic to show how Yuri has been impacted from the distance his job forced him to keep from Yor. But because he's a little less mature in that area, he blames Loid and Anya for keeping Yor away from him, when it's his own choices that put the distance between them.

Like, for all intents and purposes, he's distrusting of Loid because he doesn't know him very well and because Loid was very suddenly introduced to him as Yor's husband, not even just as a boyfriend. He is fine with Yor having a partner, as long as Yuri knows said partner is a decent enough person (decent according to his standards, at least). And with his circumstances, that's completely understandable - not fully excused, but way more human than people give him credit for.

(Anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

#Spy x Family #sxf meta #Yuri Briar #500

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dark-and-kawaii · 2 months

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A Father's Demise

Raphael x f!Tav/Reader

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: Two separate stories. Their daughters come back home, only to be met with a sight that seemed to be plucked from their darkest nightmares...

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: Happy Endings?!?! Potentially!! Also, Apologies for being quiet the past couple days. I’ve been really sick! This was also something to make me feel better… Enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Character Death | Hurt/Comfort | Fluff At The End | Dadphael | Haarlep As Dad

Prt 1?

Raphael

Raphael's daughter returned to the House of Hope expecting the usual cacophony of the damned and the indebted. Instead, she was greeted by an uncanny silence that hung heavy in the air. A sense of unease prickled at the back of her neck as she called out, "Mother?" Silence was her only answer. "Haarlep?" she tried again, hoping for the usual sardonic reply, yet there was nothing. And finally, with a tremor in her voice, "F-Father?”

Her steps were cautious, timid as she made her way through the dining area, where only the soft crackling of the fireplace dared to disturb the quiet. It was a lonely sound, one that did little to comfort her growing concern.

It wasn't until she ascended the stairs to the grand hall that the silence shattered into a scene of horror. Blood mingled with lifeless bodies, staining the pristine marble with a grotesque tableau. She shrank back, fear gnawing at her insides, “It's okay... it's okay…” She tried to weave excuses, fabricating scenarios where her father's wrath was the culprit, a desperate attempt to shield her mind from the truth.

With each step towards the boudoir, the splashing sound beneath her feet grew louder. She glanced down to see water mixing with the crimson stains on the floor. The door veil that usually keeps strangers out of the room is now gone, revealing the source of the deluge; the healing bath overflowing, its contents spilling out in a ceaseless torrent…

Approaching the bed, her every fear was realized. The blood-soaked sheets were a grim canvas, and atop them lay her father, his once regal appearance now marred by disarray and violence. “F-father?..." Her voice was barely audible, a quiver of hope against the starkness of reality. Her trembling legs carried her closer as she begged him to respond. “P-please, father- say something…”

Her tears flowed freely as she reached his side. There was no rise and fall of his chest, no sign of the life that once filled him… “Father?" she whispered, her nudges growing frantic. “G-get up..." Desperation took hold as she climbed onto the bed, her small hands pushing against him, “p-please…” She tugged at his arm, “You ha-have to get up, mom will- mom will be home soon..."

She couldn't finish; the truth was too much to bear. Curling up next to Raphael, she laid her head against his chest, pulling his arm around her as if to shield herself with his presence, his blood now her own, as her sobs filled the room.

Footsteps approached, and a shard of hope pierced her grief. "Mom!?" But the sound that followed was not the comforting voice she longed for, but a dark, mocking laugh. Haarlep emerged, their expression one of false sympathy, "Fraid not, little one," Haarlep's voice was cool, detached.

Clutching her father, she looked up at Haarlep with eyes that begged for a miracle. "Ha-Haarlep! Help! Please! I don't know what to do- I- I-" Her voice faltered, her world shattering as Haarlep's smirk only twisted further, a silent testament to their betrayal.

And as Haarlep stepped closer, she saw how her fathers crown, the Crown of Karsus rested upon their head. The incubus grinned, her father's blood painting their lips, a sight so vile she felt the warmth drain from her body. Haarlep's tongue flicked out, lasciviously cleaning the blood away. Their command was cold, merciless. "Run from here, and never return."

Frozen by shock and grief, Raphael's daughter felt the very fabric of her world unraveling. The sanctuary of her home, the invincibility of her father, the loyalty she thought unbreakable, all were illusions now shattered. The House of Hope had fallen…

…

“NO!!”

Her eyes flew open, her breath coming in shallow gasps her nightgown clinging to her skin, drenched in the sweat of terror. The nightmare had been so vivid, so visceral, that for a moment she remained still, half expecting to see the blood-soaked sheets and her father's lifeless eyes. But as the fog of fear dissipated, she realized she was in her own room, safe within the walls that had always been her sanctuary.

With a shaky exhale, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet finding the cold floor beneath them. The coolness of the stone was a small comfort, a reminder that this was reality, not the blood-soaked chambers of her nightmares.

Steeling herself, she rose and made her way out of her room. She needed to find her father, to see with her own eyes that he was safe, that the nightmare was just that, a figment of her imagination.

When she reached the boudoir she hesitated. Her hand shaking half expecting to reveal the horrors from her nightmare. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

The room was peaceful, bathed in the gentle glow of the candles and avenues. And there, in the large bed lay her father. His chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of deep sleep, his face relaxed, free from the anguish that had twisted it in her nightmare.

She whispered, her voice barely audible, "Father?"

His eyes blinked open, and for a moment, they were clouded with sleep, searching for the source of the disturbance. When his gaze settled on his heir, clarity returned, and his expression softened..

"What troubles you, child?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and a bit of annoyance.

"I had a nightmare… Y-you… " she wipes a tear away as she confesses, the words of a child seeking solace in the presence of her father. "It felt so real."

Raphael lifted the sheets to his bed, "Just this once," inviting her into the sanctuary of his and your embrace. His tail curling around her in a protective gesture, as if to ward off any remnants of the night's horrors before one of his wings enveloped both his daughter and you.

She snuggled in between both you and her father, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby that promised safety.

Haarlep

The stone walls of your home echoed the sounds of urgency as Haarlep's daughter, her heart filled with the thrill of mischief, raced through the corridors. Her arms were laden with loaves of bread, the spoils of her latest foray into manipulation. A grin played upon her lips, eager to share the tale of her conquest with her father, to see that smirk of approval on their face.

"Dad! Dad, you won't believe what I did!" she called out, her voice bouncing off the walls, searching for the familiar presence of Haarlep. But the house was unusually silent. Her steps slowed, a frown creasing her brow. "That's weird…"

She went to the only other spot they’d be. As she approached her parents' chamber, the memory of the last awkward interruption still fresh in her mind. She hesitated, her hand on the large wooden door, whispering a silent prayer to the darkness that she wouldn't find her parents in a compromising embrace… Again.

Gently, she pushed the door open, only to be met with a sight that drained the color from her face.

The loaves of bread tumbled to the floor as the door shut with an ominous thud behind her. Inside, a strange portal shimmered in the air, its edges flickering with otherworldly energy. Next to it lay Haarlep, her parent, once a figure of protection and guile in her eyes, now still and bloodied. Their clothes were tattered, their body marred, an image so shocking that it stilled her for a moment.

…

"Har har, very funny, Dad," she said with a nervous laugh, hoping against hope that this was just another one of their twisted jokes. She approached her parent cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. As the portal began to close, she saw a figure on the other side, a creature with red skin, dark hair, and a beard who gave her a smug wave before disappearing into the ether.

The sickening realization hit her, and her voice trembled. "D-dad…?" She knelt beside them, her hands shaking as she touched Haarlep’s horns, trying to rouse them.

"Th-this isn’t f-funny…" She shook him gently, then began to push on their bloody chest more urgently, denial lacing her voice. "Dad! This isn't a fun game!!"

With each desperate plea, the truth sank in. The silence that answered her was suffocating… The parent she was closest to, her mentor in mischief, the one who wrapped their tail around her in protection, the one who would lift her up and make her feel invincible, was gone... Her heart, a thing not made for breaking, fractured in her chest.

"D-dad…" She wrapped her arms around their neck, her sobs breaking the haunting silence. "Come back, come back!! Please!!" Her cries were muffled against their chest, her tears mingling with their blood.

Her cries, raw and primal, tore through the silence of the chamber. "Mom!!!" she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief.

"Mom!!!" Her voice cracked with pain and fear. "Mmmoommm!!"

Time seemed to contort, stretching and bending as you, her mother, drawn by the cries of your child, burst into the room. Your approach was a slow-motion cascade of horror and realization. She watched through tear-blurred eyes as you fell to their sides, your own anguish mirroring your daughter's.

…

“MOM!!”

She bolted upright in bed, her breathing ragged, her body drenched in cold sweat. The nightmare- was all too vivid in her mind. She clutched at her chest, a strangled sob catching in her throat. The images of her father, still and lifeless, clung to her like chains.

The familiar room came into focus, illuminated by the soft glow of a candle that lingered in the corner. She was in her parent’s room. Her gaze first landed on Impsy, the imp lying sprawled with a twitching foot, then shifted to you, her mother, who was slumbering serenely beside her, before finally settling on the one she was most eager to find, Haarlep.

Their chest rising and falling. The sight of them, the undeniable proof of life, sent a sob tearing through her, silent but profound in its relief.

An arm wrapped around her, pulling her gently but firmly back down. Haarlep, having awakened to the sound of their daughter's distress, drew her close, their senses finely attuned to the emotional currents of those around him. “Did my little imp have a bad dream?" Haarlep teased, their voice a perfect combination of concern and their usual playful mockery. Despite the teasing tone, their eyes searched hers for the depth of her fright.

Nodding, she recounted the terrible vision of her father, bloodied and still, the taunting figure in the portal, the overwhelming loss. As she spoke, your hand ran soothing circles against her back, a silent reassurance of safety and love.

Haarlep, ever being themself, made light of the darkness in her tale. "Ah, my tyrant, even in your dreams, I'm the star of the show," they quipped, a playful grin tugging at their lips.

Gradually, her trembling ceased, and her eyelids grew heavy. As she drifted back into sleep, nestled securely between her parents, a silent exchange passed between Haarlep and you.

Your eyes were filled with unspoken worry, the description of the devil too precise, too vivid. It bore the unmistakable signature of Mephistopheles… In that moment, Haarlep's facade slipped, revealing a glint of apprehension.

Mephistopheles, Haarlep knew the description all too well, a master from their past that they had hoped would never cross into their present, especially not into their offspring’s dreams.

As sleep reclaimed the chamber, Haarlep's arm tightened around their daughter, as if it would be the last time…

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #tav #haarlep #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #dadphael #Haarlep being a dad

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rainylana · 11 months

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“Can’t sleep?”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: you and eddie can’t sleep.

warnings: mentions of postpartum, mentions of abuse and eddie’s dad, so much fluff it may kill you, mom reader! dad eddie!

When he couldn’t sleep, he watched his baby. Watched her breath, stir in her sleep and make little noises and huffs. He’d pull up an old rocking chair wayne had given him, sit there with a pillow behind his back, often falling asleep. Tonight was one of those nights.

Her nursery was rainbow themed, pinks and purples everywhere with big, white clouds. Her crib had stars painted on them and glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling. In the day time, the room was bright and colorful, but it was dark now, only the glow of the neon stickers above his head and a revolving fish nightlight on the nightstand across the room.

His eyes dropped closed, but he didn’t want to fall asleep, didn’t want to miss a moment of watching his darling angel sleep. Little Joanna Munson.

Being a father had completely changed his life for the better, but it was also the scariest thing he’d ever had do to. He worried about so many more things, things he’d never had to worry about before. But the most overwhelmed thing so far was the love that he had in his heart. He didn’t think he’d love anything more in the world than you when the both of you met, but his heart grew another size when you gave birth to her, and he was absolutely, unconditionally in love with his baby, so much that it almost hurt.

It made him love you so much more, so grateful for giving him something so precious, something that was a part of him to live on. He was indebted to you, forever grateful. He worshipped you like a god, admired all the things your body could do. You struggled with postpartum a lot, something he tried his best to understand, helped as best as he could. He tried his best to take care of Joanna as much as he could, not that he minded it. She was only two months old, but he knew she was incredibly smart. She was already wrapping her tiny hand around his finger, pulling at his hair and staring at him with her big, brown eyes that she had gotten from him.

“Can’t sleep?”

He looked over his shoulder, smiling softly when he saw you. He shook his head, beckoning for you to come over. You did so, sitting on his lap and cuddling up to his chest, smiling at your baby in the crib. He leaned his head against yours, wrapping his arms around your body as he slowly rocked the chair. “What you doing up?” He asked quietly.

“Woke up and you were gone.” You yawned. “Knew you were in here. Has she stirred any?”

He shook his head. “Nah, she’s fast asleep.”

You closed your eyes, his soft breathing a lullaby for you, his body warm and comforting. Eddie still wouldn’t close his eyes, trained on the pink onesie and head of hair that he could see in the dark. Sometimes he cried when he watched her, he wouldn’t dare tell you that, but he did.

“I’m so in love with you.” Eddie squeezed you. “I can’t ever thank you enough for giving me this life. I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.” You said sleepily. “How many times do I have to say it? You deserve this, us.”

He kissed your forehead, his cheek against your ear. “I never thought I could love anything as much as I do her. It’s terrifying, loving someone so much.”

“I know.” You opened your eyes, finding your daughter in the dark. “It’s so overwhelming, isn’t it? Sometimes I think my heart is going to explode.”

He nodded in agreement, parting his lips in deep thought. That’s it exactly what it felt like. His heart was going to explode. “She’s so perfect, isn’t she? And so small.”

You chuckled, your feet curled up on his thigh. “Thank you. I take most of the credit for that.”

“Honey, you get all the credit.” He smirked. “She’s your exact replica. You can definitely tell she’s your baby.”

“She’s your baby, too, sweetheart.” You looked to him, cupping his cheek. “She may have my hair and my nose, but she’s got your eyes, and that is a telltale sign that she’s your baby.”

His heart warmed at your words, his cheeks blushing in the dark. “Yeah, she does, doesn’t she?”

You smiled tiredly, grabbing his jaw with your fingers to pull his lips down to yours, giving him a sweet, delicate kiss. “You’re a wonderful father, Eddie.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “I’m terrified I’m gonna end up like my old man.”

“Eddie,” You sighed. “I promise you that’s not going to happen.”

It was his worst fear, a nightmare that he feared would eventually come true. He’d drive you away, raise a child that he’d beat and abuse, who would later grow up to hate him. He didn’t want his family to repeat the one he’d had before.

“Hey,” You noticed the swell of his eyes in the dark. “Eddie, look at me, baby.” You held his cheek. “You are not your father. You’re not going to be your father. You’ve got me and her to keep you steady, just like you keep me steady, right? We’re a team. You don’t let me fall, I don’t let you fall.”

He let a tear fall, nodding and whispering a choked yeah. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek as you held him tightly through the night.

#lana’s shit post #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson drabbles

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lighteyed · 3 months

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driving miss mayfield

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[5.8k] steve gives you driving lessons, max gives you heat, you give yourself no time to daydream.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to drive?” The disbelief in his words is almost as emphatic as the annoyance in yours, but he seems to be more disbelieving than you are annoyed at him, who could ever really be annoyed at him, so you let Steve gape at you and blink rapidly instead of telling him to mind his business.

You slurp down the rest of your soda from the general store in his passenger seat, shrugging, fighting to push down that urge to snap. Mayfield girls, you, Max, your mother when she wasn’t bogged down by a soul-sucking man-leech draining her lifeforce from her right before your eyes, had a less than lovely temper most of the time, and you tried very hard to keep it contained, especially around people who didn’t deserve it. It just felt like a ridiculous question. “I mean, why do you think I’m stuck drivin’ with Billy half the time? You think I get in that car willingly? You think Max gets in that car willingly?” You shake your head. “No way. If I had a license I would’ve been, like, halfway back to California the second you people started dragging me and Max into your science fiction monster crap.”

“As if she woulda let you,” Steve scoffs with a similar head shake, a lock of his hair falling nicely into place in the middle of his forehead. He swipes at it quickly. He has this ridiculous urge to never be anything less than perfect in front of you, you, who is perfect without effort, leading him to put even more effort into holding up this front for himself. “Besides, you’d miss this pretty face, right?” He points to himself, smiles, and waits for you to laugh. You do. It makes his heart constrict.

“Think you’d miss my pretty face, actually,” you snort, shoving your now empty shake in the cupholder.

“Yeah, I would,” he teases, just a little, just enough to make further attempts at breaking all that ice you’ve got protecting you, and he swears, he sees it crack the slightest amount, even though you don’t answer. You smile and stare down at your hands in your lap, twisting a mood ring around your finger and making sure you don’t look at him. He’ll take what he can get. “Well, anyhow,” he says, dramatically blowing air out of his mouth, the subject change swift and, in his opinion, a flawless execution, “I can’t in good conscience let you keep driving with him.”

“You already drive me and Max and all her friends everywhere, you don’t have to do anything else.” You don’t like being indebted to anyone. Even if it’s Steve, who insists on picking you up for school in the mornings and dropping you off in the afternoons and, if he’s free, taking you anywhere else you need to go. And he usually is free, because you, and the group of middle schoolers (almost high schoolers, to be fair) he’s adopted since he protected them from Billy and the Demodogs and the whole Mind Flayer debacle (you’re still fuzzy on the details, honestly) a few months ago, are his only friends nowadays, so it’s not like his schedule is packed and there’s no room to fit you in there. There’s more than enough room. If there wasn’t, he’d make it so. You both knew that.

“I love driving you,” he insists. “But the thing is, my dad’s cutting me off.”

“He’s what?”

“Like, you know, he’s gonna stop paying for my shit. I’m not goin’ to college and he thinks I’m a useless sack of nothing-“

“You are not a useless sack of nothing-“

“You tell that to him-“

“Take me there right now and I will-“

“Alright, alright, easy.” As much as he’d love to see you go toe to toe with his dad, and you’d be able to, he’s sure, he doesn’t want to talk about it any further than the basic facts of the situation. He’s not going to college therefore his dad has no reason to pay for anything he does anymore. His car insurance is his responsibility now, anything else he needs is up to him to to get, food, clothes, gas, if he has to go to the hospital he’s sure his dad would shove the medical bills onto him, too. He was like that, unfortunately for Steve. But it was one thing he could relate to you on. You had him slightly beat, though. You had two dads to complain about, both terrible in their own ways. Sam Mayfield: emotionally distant, didn’t bother to call, didn’t ask you to visit, too busy when you lived with him to spend any time with you anyway. And then, of course, there was Neil Hargrove: controlling, abusive, cold Neil Hargrove. How he’d charmed your mother into marrying him was a mystery to you and to Max, but you supposed, for as much as you loved her on principle because she was your mother and you pitied her and looked up to her all the same, she was easily charmed by men. It killed you a little more every time it happened, but this was the first time she’d actually brought him into your family, integrating them together in a way she thought would be seamless, but you and Max despised your stepbrother and he despised you both right back. “Point is, I’m gonna have to get a job, probably at that new mall they’re opening up-“

“Oh the horror-“ you feign a hand over your forehead and slump back in your seat- “Rich pretty boy Steve Harrington doing labor, at the fancy new mall, with those soft delicate hands of yours, whatever will you do-“

“Shut it,” he warns, but there’s a grin on his face anyway. “You just admitted I’m pretty, by the way.” He continues before you can dispute his claims. “I’m not gonna be around as much. So you need your license. Unless you wanna be stuck with Billy yelling in your ear all day long.” He pauses, thinking. “Which might make me kill him. So, actually, unless you want me to murder him in cold blood-”

“Please? I’m begging at this point,” you joke back.

“Let me get a word in would you?” He laughs and it sounds like music to you. You keep it to yourself. “I want you to be okay on your own. I don’t want him, y’know, hurting you guys, okay? So you need your license.” His words and his eyes go lovely and soft, all rounded ages, nothing jagged about them, just pure, undulated care and affection.

It makes you soften, too. You spend a lot of time looking after Max, it hits you hard when someone takes the time to look after you, too. “I don’t know, Steve, I wouldn’t be getting a car right after or anything, my job doesn’t pay enough, and we can just take the bus or something. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

‘I’m teaching you to drive, and you can take my car wherever you need to go. I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go on over to wherever I’m working, drop me off, and then you go wherever you need to go and come back in time to pick me up.” He says it so easily, as if it’s the most obvious answer to your problems in the world. He doesn’t even fathom how much it means to you.

“You’d let me drive this?” You brace both your hands on the dashboard, your turn to stare at him in incredulity. His car is nice. It’s beautiful, really, and you don’t know much about cars. It’s classic and shiny and new. And expensive. Expensive being the operative word. Billy’s car is nice, too, and it’s about the only thing he takes care of other than his physique, which he thinks about obsessively, but you don’t think it’s anywhere as nice as Steve’s. Not in your opinion, anyway. The fact that Steve is nicer in personality (and looks, quite frankly) might make you biased, though. “I can’t afford to replace anything if I scratch it or crash it or if it explodes.”

“You won’t scratch, crash, or explode it, you’re gonna be learning from the best.”

“And who would that be?”

“Me, obviously. Welcome to your first driving lesson, I’ll be your instructor, Mr. Harrington, thank you for joining us Miss Mayfield.” He tips an imaginary hat toward you. You’re not sure what driving instructors wear hats but you let him have his fantasy anyway.

“Right now?” You can barely process what’s happening before he’s popping open his door, lanky legs sliding right out. He raps the hood of the car with his knuckles, ducking his head inside to look at you.

“Yes, right now, Mayfield, no time like the present.” He comes around to the side you’re on and opens door for you, ushering you out. He holds your hand to help you out of the car, entirely unnecessary but a smooth move nonetheless, and your hands fit together in a way that makes him want to keep them clasped like that forever. He ushers you into the driver’s seat with a quickness that almost gives you whiplash.

Your hands prop up on the wheel, uneasy. Your palms start to sweat. “I don’t like this,” you tell him. You take your hands off and wipe them on your jeans. They immediately dampen again. You’re afraid of leaving sweat prints all over his wheel and leaving a car-shaped hole in the side of the now abandoned Benny’s Burgers, the parking lot almost empty, save for the car that you are now responsible for. It’s eight o’clock on a school and work night, so naturally no one else was around and Hawkins may as well have been asleep.

“You haven’t even attempted to drive yet.”

“My hands keep slipping off the wheel,” you grasp for his hand and press yours against it, raising your eyebrows. “Do you feel the sweat?”

“Jesus, yeah.” He squeezes your hand with encouragement anyway. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m a much nicer driving teacher than anyone you could hire at the school. You’re in good hands. Great hands. The best ones. Perfect, amazing hands.”

Your eyes flick down to Steve’s hands. You have to agree. “I don’t even have a permit. You could get in trouble.”

“By who? Chief Hopper? Officer Callahan?” He nearly cackles at the notion. “You’ll be fine, don’t sweat it.”

“Bad choice of words.”

“Enough stalling, let’s get to the lesson.” He claps his hands together. His face retains a serious, focused quality to it. It’s very handsome (he’s always handsome and it kills you a little because you don’t have time to daydream). “Alright, hands here, and here,” he taps the wheel to show you the correct position. He thinks he might die if you connect your hands again. “That’s called the 10 and 2 position.”

“Why’s it called that?”

“I don’t know, it just is, doesn’t matter, that’s where they go so you have the best control for making turns and steering.” You do as he says. “Okay, so now, you have to relax.”

“Girls love hearing that, Steve,” you grind your teeth.

But your rigidity and discomfort is obvious, especially to you, and you know it can’t be natural to drive all scrunched up and tense like this. “You’ll be fine. You can’t be all stiff if you ever want to get comfortable doing this.”

“But I’m not comfortable.”

“Hence why we’re doing this, yeah?’

“I thought we were doing this so me and Billy don’t strangle each other.”

“That too. Can’t have my only friend dead. Then I’ll be stuck with all the kids by myself.”

“Can’t leave Max alone, either,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You think about her most of all. While you spend all this time with Steve, you worry over her all the time. You constantly check in to make sure she doesn’t feel left out. You fret about her being left alone with Billy. She occupies almost all of your thoughts.

“Never,” he agrees, even if you weren’t talking to him. You give him a thankful smile. His heart almost stops but he clears his throat to snap himself out of it. “Okay, now, let’s turn the key, turn the car back on.”

“Turning the key,” you nod, licking your lips. You turn the key in the ignition until the engine rumbles to life. The car vibrates in response. You hate it.

“Clutch pedal down with your left foot,” he says, pointing. You do as he says. “Move this,” he pats the gear stick, “into first gear, right here, left then up.” He watches you carefully, nodding back. “Good, okay, press down on the acceleration with your right foot now, gently,” he adds. He can tell by the furrow in your brow that you hate it. “You’re doing good,” he praises.

“Yeah, yeah, continue.”

“Now you gotta lift the clutch until you feel it vibrating, okay, then release the handbrake, keep slowly moving off the clutch until you’re moving with just the acceleration, okay?” He finds the deeply serious expression you’re wearing kind of endearing. “If it stalls we’re gonna start again, but don’t worry about it.”

But you don’t stall. The car moves as it should, with you controlling it, in the empty parking lot by the neighborhood park. “Great, great, almost perfect” he tells you, “we can probably go faster if you wanna try that-“

“No, we cannot,” you say tightly, your shoulders hunched.

The laugh he lets out makes your spine tingle. “You have to relax your face, I promise you’ll drive better if you’re not all… scrunched up,” he motions to your shoulder area.

You try. You roll them back as you keep focusing on the road, trying not to furrow your brows so much. You’ll get a permanent forehead wrinkle at this rate.

“See, there we go,” Steve reassures. Your let out a little huff, but your face goes placid, still. “Beautiful.” He’s not sure if he means to say it. If he should. He says it anyway.

You look sideways at him as you drive through the parking lot. You’re driving slow. Slower than slow. You’re practically inching along. “You can’t possibly be flirting with me right now.” It’s not that you don’t like it. You do. It hurts how much you do. If he wasn’t freshly single and you didn’t feel so obligated to focus most of your time on taking care of Max, you’d flirt back. You weren’t new to it or anything. You knew your way around a guy. Even a gorgeous one like Steve. But he was only a few months over Nancy and you saw the grimaces he did when she and Jonathan crossed his path. You weren’t sure if he was over her. Or if Max was comfortable and secure enough here to be a little more independent.

“I am not,” he scoffs. The blush creeping up his neck onto his cheeks betrays him. You shift your eyes to look at him again but he points, “eyes on the road, by the way.”

“You were flirting, you just can’t help yourself, can you? King Steve, right?” You snicker, recalling the nickname from when you’d first met him, the one that had been rescinded just as fast. It’s easy to hide the fact that you liked the way he said beautiful, like a caress, like a kiss, behind your banter and snark. Maybe it’s one thing you and Billy could have in common. Everything’s easier when you hide it behind an attitude.

“I wouldn’t say that stating a fact is… flirting,” he shrugs, flippant. At least, he hopes it appears flippant. You don’t give yourself much time to ponder this.

“It is when you say it in that voice,” you retort.

“Huh? What voice?” He balks at that. He does not put on a voice.

“Like, low and sultry,” you flick some hair away from your eyes. It had been the way he said it, after all.

“You think my voice is low and sultry?” His ears practically perk up like a puppy’s. You don’t answer. It’s actually all the answer he needs. “I think you’re the one flirting with me now, Mayfield, not the other way around.”

You scoff. You are scoffing and he is laughing away. “In your dreams, Harrington.”

“Every night.” The joke registers with that one but it still makes your stomach clench. Every butterfly in the western hemisphere makes its way into your gut and builds a home there, an uncontrollable influx of new neighbors, fluttering madly, demanding to be seen and known and understood. You understood them, you just didn’t want to. “See, now that, that was flirting,” he says, satisfied at your quiet. “And you sound like your stepbrother when you say my last name like that, by the way. Excellent Billy impression.”

You’re doing slow, lazy laps around the parking lot at this point, your nerves still present but for entirely different reasons now. “I do not sound like Billy.” You grimace. “And you probably shouldn’t be flirting with anyone when you just got out of a relationship, like, not even four months ago. I don’t think you’re ready to be flirting again.” You, again, are saying it more to yourself than to him. A subtle reminder of the predicament you’re in.

“Hence why I’m not flirting,” he informs you.

“Uh huh,” you say, unconvinced.

“But if I was-“

“Which you’re not-“

“Which I am not,” he agrees, “how would you feel? Just for, y’know, future reference.” He juts his lip out, wondering.

“Let’s circle back to that when you’re not still reeling from the Nancy incident.”

“Well,” he shifts around in his seat. He wouldn’t say he’s still reeling. Still hurt, sure. But hurt sticks around longer than heartbreak does. You can be hurt by something someone did and not still be heartbroken over them. He wouldn’t say he’s still heart broken. Looking at you, his heart feels very much intact. Nothing broken here, no, definitely not. “That’s why it’s for a hypothetical future reference.”

“Right, of course,” you slow the car to a stop. “Then I wouldn’t be opposed. Hypothetically.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“I wouldn’t.” But, you remember, suddenly, that it’s not just you that you look out for. “Once Max is all settled, of course.”

“Settled?”

“Like, y’know, feeling better about being here.”

“She’s got a massive group of friends she sees all the time.”

“I know, but-“

“You worry about her, I get it,” he places a hand on your knee, very light, not asking for anything. “Who worries about you? You should- you should be happy, too, is that crazy to say?”

You place your hand over his. “I’m happy. I’m happy, I promise. I don’t need you to worry about me, I’m okay.”

“You should do more things for yourself.”

“Like getting my license,” you gesture to the car.

“Like getting your license, yeah.” Like going on a date with me. Like letting me show you how serious I am about you.

“I’m okay how I am.”

“I’m making it my job to look out for you, y’know.”

You smile again. Very soft, almost embarrassed. You hated the attention being on you but you had to get used to it, being around him. “Yeah, Steve, I know.”

He’s diligent in his effort to give you driving lessons. He takes you driving almost every day after school, Max in the backseat if she’s not with her friends, both of them encouraging and kind even when you hit the curb more often than not. You were a good driver, for all intents and purposes, even though your palms still sweat every time you got behind the wheel. It was a gradual comfort process. They were less sweaty than the first time, and that had to count for something. You even get comfortable enough to drive through Main Street, which nearly sends you into a panic and leads to a shouting match between the two of you while you furiously honk your horn at the other people of Hawkins on the road, Steve slumped in his seat to avoid eye contact with everyone, but after that, you’re a pro.

A few weeks of this pass when he says to you, out of the blue as you drive aimlessly, “So, I set up your road test for you.”

You’re still not used to this whole looking out for you thing he’s got going on. You almost stop the car short. “Did you really?”

“I think you’re ready. You’re great, you’ll pass easily.”

“You think?” You’re typically confident, strong-willed, but sometimes he sees those flickers of insecurity crop up and he attempts to smother that right then and there.

“For sure,” he nods. “They’ll be begging you to be on the road.”

“You flatter me.”

“You deserve it.” His eyes, his smile, trained on you, always, is devastating. Maybe you do. Maybe you do.

At your dinner table that night, you, Max, your mom, Neil, and Billy, Max does what she should never do in front of Neil or Billy, and that’s open her mouth.

Billy had been going on about how he was sick of being the chauffeur, even though he really wasn’t anymore, and that if he was going to get a job this summer before college like Neil wanted you two would have to learn to get around on your own, because he can’t be responsible for two people if he also had to be responsible for a job.

“She’s getting her driver’s license tomorrow,” she jerks her head toward you, a proud, beautiful smile on her face, and you want to drag her by the hair into your shared bedroom to ask why in the world she’d ever tell that to everyone and also give her the biggest hug for the evident pride she takes in the fact that you’re independent and doing things on your own and she looks up to you so, so much. You bite your lip as Neil’s fork scrapes noisily across his plate. “And Steve’s been driving us around anyway, so I don’t know what you’re going on about-“

You interrupt her with a hard, socked foot coming down on her own. Your eyes go wide and your head tilts in her direction, a please oh please stop talking expression.

“Who has been driving you, exactly?” Neil asks, eyebrows raised.

“My friend from school, it’s no big deal,” you answer, staring down at your plate and then back up at him. His cold gaze is fixated on you.

“What happened to the agreement we had?” Neil turned his sneer to Billy, rendered speechless by Max’s unexpectedly bold statement. Billy then glares at you, and you really don’t want an argument, so you cut in.

“It’s only sometimes, like once a week, and he doesn’t drive us to school, he drives us home. Rarely. Rare occasions. I promise.” A lie, flowing easily from your lips, and because Neil thinks you’re a smart, good girl, and his son is always up to no good and lying, he relaxes, and so does Billy, though you’ll get no thanks from him, not now, not ever.

“Well, who’s been teaching you to drive where you feel ready to take your test?” Neil stretches across the table to get another helping of the meal your mother prepared from the middle of the table.

“Steve, when we’re both free.” Every day.

And because Billy can’t let you have anything, because he needs to instantly make you regret ever doing anything nice for him, he says, “I’m not a big fan of this Steve guy.”

“Hm, and why’s that?” Neil continues eating.

“It’s a petty high school rivalry,” you interrupt, narrowing your eyes at him.

“He’s got a reputation with girls, you know. I wouldn’t want to see something bad happen to you.” Billy’s stupid grin eats shit. The feigned care makes your skin crawl.

“What sort of reputation is that? You shouldn’t be hanging out with that sort of person,” Neil frowns. Again, with that feigned care. It’s not about genuine worry for you. It’s about control. Dominance. You won’t fall for it.

“It’s all rumors. He had a serious girlfriend for a year. And we’re not together, anyway. He’s my friend.”

“Guys all want the same thing,” Billy says back.

“How would you know?” You push, nearly slamming your hands on the table.

“I’m friends with the basketball team, there’s locker room talk, you get the picture.” He continues smiling in that mocking way of his that makes you want to jump across the dining room and put your fork through his eye.

“You don’t actually know anything, though, do you, considering you’re not friends with him?”

“I think I know enough to know that this isn’t the type of person my sister should be associating with-“

That gets you going most of all, which is giving him exactly what he wants, and you can’t help it. “We are not siblings-“ your chair drags across the floor with a loud screech as you remove yourself from the table, just as Neil is telling you both to settle down.

“C’mon, honey, sit back down, you can hang out with whoever you want, I’m sure this boy is very nice,” Susan coaxes you gently but you don’t even look at her, too caught up with the fact that it’s all her fault you’re here in this place with these people, these strangers, that you hate so deeply it makes your bones ache.

“’M done eating, going to my room,” and you don’t care how annoyed it makes Neil that you’ve gotten up before he’s finished eating, which has become practice in this house now, you can’t even celebrate the fact that you’re achieving a milestone, getting your license, God damn it, without it turning into the Billy Hargrove one man show. He makes everything, everything, hurt.

Max comes in a little while later, her footsteps light and hesitant on the floor. She crawls into your bed even though hers is across the room and she hasn’t slept beside you since your first night here.

“Are you mad at me?” She asks. Her eyes are big and blue, worried.

“’Course not.” You smooth her hair back. You’re not mad at her, truly. It’s not her fault Billy ruins everything. “I know you were just trying to get back at him for his complaining. S’not your fault, lovie.”

“I should’ve known it would turn into that,” she frowns, uneasy. “It always turns into that.”

“You don’t have to know anything. You should be allowed to say whatever you want to our parents, that’s what they’re there for. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” You boop her nose with the tip of your finger. You’ve been sulking in your room because of him, not her.

“Can I ask you something?” You’re face to face with each other, both your heads lying on your pile of pillows, hair fanned out behind you. Her expression is earnest and endearing.

“Always.”

“I thought you and Steve were dating already.”

You hesitate. “That’s not a question.”

“Okay,” she rolls her eyes. There’s no malice behind it. “Why aren’t you dating?”

You crinkle your nose, dismissive. “Because, I’m- I’m, like, busy, with stuff, and he’s not over Mike’s sister and I just, I don’t wanna get mixed up with some silly boy.”

She admires your dismissive attitude toward boys, and it might be why she breaks up with Lucas every other week in exasperation with his boyish faults. She just thinks it’s crazy that you have this attitude when a guy like Steve is the one following you around with shiny looks and dreamy smiles. She’s sure that you’d never deny Steve, who, when she observed you both from the backseat, did everything in his power to make you feel comfortable, safe, secure, was kind to her while also maintaining a brotherly banter, something she thought she was getting when Billy had been introduced to her, was funny, and generous. He was always letting you drive his car and buying you both food and making sure you had a ride somewhere if you needed it. And she drove her and her friends around everywhere even if you weren’t there, too. Steve seemed perfect.

He was easy on the eyes, too, but it brought a hot flush to Max’s cheeks to admit that, so she never would.

“He’s not a silly boy, he’s Steve.”

“A boy is just a boy no matter who he is, you know that.”

“Yeah, but,” she huffs, indignant, “he really likes you. I bet he’d go out with you if you asked.”

“I’m not asking him out, and he doesn’t like me like that. He’s a good friend. And I told you, I’m too busy for him.”

“Busy with what?” She cries, exasperated. “Busy driving with Steve, busy doing homework with Steve, busy getting dinner with Steve, busy-“

She’s running out of fingers to write her list on. You grab her hand to stop the count. “I get your point.”

“You can’t be too busy for someone if you already spend so much time with them, is all I’m saying.” She has a point. You scratch your arm absentmindedly. “What’s the real reason?”

“What real reason? You’re saying that’s not the real reason?”

“Definitely not the real reason.”

“Says who?”

“Says your best friend.”

You sigh at her, a loving sound. “Oh, yeah, her.” You run a hand through her hair again. The softness of it soothes you. “I don’t wanna leave you alone.”

She pokes your cheek. “I’m not alone. I have my friends.”

“Didn’t you hear that we’re best friends? I can’t leave you in the dust.” It’s more playful than you really feel. You don’t want to burden her by unburdening yourself, relaying all your fears about what would happen if you spent more time with Steve, things like her resenting you, something awful happening between her and Billy, her getting hurt, injured, killed, your brain delved into all sorts of dark, terrible places, and these spiraling thoughts led to one conclusion: you would never, ever, let your focus waver from her. “I take care of you, okay? I don’t have the time to think about anything else. Besides, he might not even be over Nance, remember?”

“He is. He is over her. I promise,” she insists, placing her hands on your arms. “He looks at you like he’s in love, I’ve seen it!”

“You don’t know what you’re seeing, babe-“

“I do.” She shoves herself off your bed, your hand, where it was twined in her hair, falling back onto the covers. You sit up, confused, as she stomps off to her own bed.

“Are you mad at me right now?” You ask.

“I’d be happy if you were happy.”

“Max, stop, I am happy-“

“Not happy enough. He’s nice. You should just go out with him. Stupid to worry about me all the time.” She flicks off her lamp light and turns away from you toward her wall. You sigh. You think. Your stomach twists itself in a knot you don’t want to think about. Eventually, when her stubbornness about it overrides yours, you turn back toward your own wall and turn out your own light. Your eyes strain from trying not to cry, so eventually, you cave in to that, too.

Your hands shake at your road test the next day. For a multitude of reasons. You look at Steve differently, with your head tilted toward him like the head of a flower tilts toward the sun, waiting and wanting. You’re running over all the ways it could go wrong. You resign yourself to never doing a thing about it.

He notices your quiet, so unlike yourself, and attributes it to your nerves about the test. He rubs your shoulders, an attempt to hype you up. “You got this, okay? You’re gonna kill it. You’re gonna be the second best driver in Hawkins.”

“Lemme guess, you’re the first?” It’s the first smile you’ve cracked all day and he takes it as the victory it is.

“Well it’s certainly not Billy,” he rolls his eyes. “Seriously, how you feelin’?” He spins you around and the gaze he bores into you is too intense to bear. You look away fervently.

“Fine, ‘m fine, nervous, but fine, should be good, my driving instructor was excellent.” He beams with pride at that, a blinding flash.

“World renowned, I heard,” he brags.

“Let’s see if I pass first.”

“You will,” he says. Confident, assured. It makes you feel assured in turn.

And you do. You pass. By a hair, truth be told, but you pass. It thrills you, clutching the paper declaring your triumph in your fist, walking outside to greet Steve who leans against the hood of his car in his devastating way of his, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he taps his foot in wait. When he sees you come out, he brightens, straightening himself out.

“What’s the verdict?” He asks.

You wave the paper around. “I passed!” You can’t fake it for a second, your joy at this little bit of freedom absolutely inescapable. He lets out a loud, thrilled whoop for you, and his joy brings you even more of it. He picks you up off the ground and spins you in a circle, and when you’re back on the sidewalk, steady, he envelopes you in a deep, encompassing hug.

When he hugs, his whole body goes into it, if that makes any sense. He throws his all into it. There’s no hesitancy, no timidity, he’s not ashamed of it in the slightest. He hugs you, hard. He’s that proud. And he likes holding you. You pull away first and he’s not surprised.

“Proud of you,” he squeezes you arm again.

“Couldn’t have done it without, Steve, really. You- you’re the best, y’know that?”

He decides to push his luck. “Good enough to go on a date with?” He can see already that you’ll say no. That you want to say yes but you’re going to say no. He doesn’t care. He’ll wait until you’re sick of him.

“You don’t wanna go out with me,” you squeeze his arm back.

“You’re real silly, you know that?” His voice is warm and awfully fond.

You can’t bring yourself to let him all the way in just yet. You walk with him back to the car and agree with him. Yes, you’re real silly, indeed.

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