#I made these as a test so they're not really the best but

[necromii]

✧✦ Simple Animated Masks. credit appreciated but not needed.

#── Posts. #── Masks. #── Resources. #I made these as a test so they're not really the best but #masks #rentry mask #rentry decor #rentry resources #editblr

[ms-demeanor]

Friends, I think we need to talk about Covid.

I want to get a few caveats out there before I start:

I am aware that there are people who need to exercise extreme caution about Covid; I live with someone who has two solid organ transplants and who is at the most immune compromised level of immune compromised. *I* have to be extremely cautious about covid.

Masking does prevent a certain level of transmission, and people who think they may have covid should mask and people who are concerned that they may be at high risk for covid should mask.

You should be vaccinated and boosted with the most recent vaccines that are available to you; covid is highly transmissible and very serious, you do not want to get covid and if you do get covid you don't want it to be severe and if you do get covid you don't want to give someone else covid and up-to-date vaccinations are the best way to reduce transmission and help to prevent severe cases of Covid.

We should be testing before going to any gatherings, and informing people if we test positive after gatherings, and testing if we suspect we have been exposed.

It is bullshit that there aren't good protections for workers who have covid; you should not be expected to go to work when you are testing positive

It is bullshit that people who are testing positive are not isolating for other reasons; if you have Covid you should not be going out and exposing other people to it even if you are experiencing mild symptoms or no symptoms.

We do need better ventilation systems for many kinds of spaces. Schools need better ventilation, restaurants need better ventilation, doctor's offices and hospitals and office buildings need better ventilation and better ventilation can reduce covid transmission.

I want to make it clear that Covid is real and there are real steps that individuals and systems can take to prevent transmission, and that there are systems that are exerting pressures that needlessly expose people to covid (the fact that you can lose your job if you don't come in when you're testing positive, mainly; also the fact that covid rapid tests should be ubiquitous and cheap/free and are not).

All of that being said: I'm seeing some posts circulating about how we're at an extremely high level of transmission and the REAL pandemic is being hidden from us and, friends, I'm pretty sure that is just incorrect and we're spreading misinformation.

I'm thinking of this video in particular, in which the claim is made that "your mystery illness is covid" in spite of negative tests. The guy in the video says that there's nothing else that millions of people could be getting a day, and that he predicted this because a wastewater spike in December meant that there was a huge spike in cases.

I've also seen people saying that deaths are where they were in 2021-2022, and that we're still at "a 9/11 a week" of excess deaths and friends, I'm not seeing great evidence for any of these claims.

I know that we (in the US, which is where the numbers I'm going to be citing are from) feel abandoned by the CDC and the fact that tracking cut off in May of 2023. But that only cut off for the federal tracking.

I live in LA county and LA county sure as shit is still tracking Covid.

If you want a clearer picture, you can see the daily case count over time compared to the daily death count:

Okay, you might say, but that's just LA.

Alright, so here's Detroit:

Right, but maybe that's CDC data and you don't trust the CDC at this point.

Okay, here's fatalities in New York tracked through New York's state data collection:

It's harder to toggle around the site for South Dakota, but you can compare their cases and hospitalizations and deaths for early 2022

To cases and hospitalizations and deaths from early 2024

And see that there's really no comparison.

Okay, you might say, but people are testing less. If they're testing less of course we're not seeing spikes, and they're testing less because fewer tests are available.

Alright, people are definitely testing less than they were in 2021 and 2022. Hospitalization for Covid is probably the most clear metric because you know those people have covid for sure, the couldn't not test for it.

Here are hospitalizations over time for LA:

Here are hospitalizations over time for New York:

As vaccination rates have gone up, cases, deaths, and hospitalizations have gone down. It IS clear that there are case spikes in the winter, when it is cold and people are indoors in poorly ventilated spaces and people are more susceptible to respiratory infections as a result of cold air weakening the protection offered by our mucous membranes, and that is something that we will have to take precautions about for the forseeable future, just as we should have always been taking similar precautions during flu season.

So I want to go point-by-point through some of the arguments made in that video because I'm seeing a bunch of people talking about how "THEY" don't want you to know about the virus surge and buds that is just straight up conspiracism.

So okay, first off, most of what that video is based on is spikes in wastewater data, not spikes in cases. This is because people don't trust CDC data on cases, but I'd say to maybe check out your regional data on cases. I don't actually trust the CDC that much, but I know people who do tracking of hospitalizations in LA county, I trust them a lot more. Wastewater data does correlate with increases in cases, but this "second largest spike of the entire pandemic" thing is misleading; wastewater reporting is pretty highly variable and you can't just accept that a large spike in covid in wastewater means that we're in just as bad a place in the pandemic as we were in 2022. We simply have not seen the surge of hospitalizations and deaths that we would expect to see in the weeks following that spike in wastewater data if wastewater data was reflective of community transmission.

The next claim is that "there is nothing else that is infecting millions of people a day" and covid isn't doing that either. The highest daily case rates were in January of 2021 and they were in the 865k a day range, which is ridiculously high but isn't millions of cases a day.

But what we can see is that when people are tested by their doctors for Covid, RSV, and the Flu, more tests are coming back positive for the Flu. Covid causes more hospitalizations than the other two illnesses, but to be honest what the people in the video are describing - lightheadedness, dizziness, exhaustion - just sound like pretty standard symptoms of everything from covid to the cold to allergies. There are lots of things your mystery illness could be.

The video goes on to talk about the fact that people aren't testing, and why their tests may be coming back negative and I'd like to point out that the same things are all true of Flu or RSV tests. People might be getting tested too early or too late; getting a negative test for the flu isn't a good reason to assume you've got covid, getting a negative test for covid isn't a good reason to assume you've got the flu, and testing for viruses as a whole is imperfect. There are hundreds of viruses that could be the common cold; there are multiple viruses that can cause bronchitis; there are multiple viruses that can cause pneumonia, and you're not going to test for all of these things the moment you start feeling sick.

He then recommends testing for multiple days if you have symptoms and haven't had a positive test (fine) and talks about the location of the tests (less fine). Don't use your rapid tests to swab your throat or cheek unless it specifically says that they are designed to do so. Test based on the instructions in the packet.

He points out that the tests probably still pick up on the virus because they're not testing for the spike protein, they're testing for the RNA (good info!)

The video then discusses something that I think is really key to this paranoia about the "mystery illnesses" - he talks about how covid changes and weakens your immune system (a statement that should come with many caveats about severity and vulnerability and that we are still researching that) and then says that it makes you more susceptible to strep or mono and that "things that used to clear in a day or two now hit you really hard."

And that's where I think this anxiety is coming from.

Strep throat lasts anywhere from three days to a week. A cold takes about a week to clear. The flu lasts about a week and can knock you on your ass with exhaustion for weeks depending on how bad you get it. Did you get a cough with your cold? Expect that to take anywhere from three to eight weeks to clear up.

I think that people are thinking "i got a bad virus and felt really sick for a week and haven't gotten my energy back" but that just sounds like a bad cold. That sounds like a potent allergy attack. That doesn't even sound like a bad flu (I got a bad flu in 2009 and thought i was going to straight-up die I had a fever of 103+ for three days and felt like shit for three days on either side of that and took six weeks to feel more like myself again).

Getting sick sucks. It really, really sucks. But if you're getting sick and you're testing for covid and it's coming back negative after you tested a few times, it's almost certainly not covid.

The video then says "until someone provides evidence that it's not covid, it should be assumed to be covid because we have record levels of covid it's that simple" but that's not simple. We don't have record levels of covid and he hasn't proved it. We have record high levels of wastewater reports of covid, which correlates with covid cases but the spike in wastewater noted in december didn't see a spike with a corresponding magnitude of cases in terms of either hospitalizations or deaths, which is what we'd have seen if we had actual record numbers of covid.

He says that if you want to ignore this, you'll get sick with covid, and that about 30-40% of the US just got sick with covid in the last four months (which is a RIDICULOUSLY unevidenced claim).

He says that we need to create a new normal that takes covid into account, which means masking more often and testing more often and making choices about risk-avoidant behaviors.

Now, I don't disagree with that last statement, but he prefaces the statement with "it doesn't necessarily mean lockdown" and that's where I think the alarmism and paranoia is really visible here. We are so, so far away from "lockdown" type levels that it's absurd to discuss lockdown here.

What I'm seeing right now is people who are chronically ill, people who are immune compromised, and people who are experiencing long covid (which may not be distinct from other post-viral syndromes from severe cases of flu, etc, but which may be more severe or more notable because of the prevalence of covid) are talking about feeling abandoned and attacked and left behind by society because covid is still out there, and still at extremely high levels.

I am seeing people who feel abandoned and attacked because the lgbtq+ events they are attending don't require masking. I am seeing people who are claiming that it is eugenicist that their schools don't have a negative test policy anymore.

And this comes together into two really disconcerting trends that I've been observing online for a while.

The claim that the pandemic is still as bad as it's ever been and in fact may be worse but we can't know that because "they" (the CDC, the government, capitalist institutions that want you back in the office, the university industrial complex that wants your dorm room dollars) are covering up the numbers and

Significant grievance at the fact that people are acting like number one is not true and are putting you at risk either out of thoughtlessness (because they don't realize they're putting you at risk) or malice (because they don't care if the sick die).

And those things are a recipe for disaster.

I think I've pretty robustly addressed point one; I don't think that there's good evidence that there's a secretly awful surge of covid that nobody is talking about. I think that there are some people who are being alarmist about covid who are basing all of their concern on wastewater numbers that have not held up as the harbinger of a massive wave of infections.

So let's talk about point number two and JK Rowling.

Barnes and Noble is not attacking you when it puts up a Hogwarts Castle display in the lobby. Your favorite youtuber isn't trying to hurt you when they offhandedly mention Harry Potter.

If you let every mention of Harry Potter or every person who enjoys that media franchise wound you, you are going to spend a lot of your time wounded.

People are not liking Harry Potter at you.

Okay.

People are also not not wearing masks at you.

You may be part of a minority group that experiences the potential for outsized harm as a result of majority groups engaging in perfectly reasonable behaviors.

There are kind, well-meaning, sensible people who go out every day and do something that may cause you harm and it's not because they want to hurt you or they don't care about whether you live or die, it is because they are making their own risk assessments based on their own lives and making the very reasonable assumption that people who are more concerned about covid than they are will take precautions to keep themselves safe.

We are not at a place in the pandemic where it is sensible to expect people with no symptoms of illness to mask in public as a matter of course or to present evidence of a recent negative test when entering a public building in their day-to-day life.

I think now is a really good time to sit down and ask yourself how you expect things to be with covid as an endemic part of our viral ecosystem. I think now is a good time to ask yourself what risk realistically looks like for you and for people who are unlike you. I think now is a good time to consider what would feel "safe" for you and how you could accomplish feeling safe as you navigate the world.

I'm probably going to continue masking in most indoor spaces for years. Maybe forever. There are accommodations that SHOULD be afforded to people who have to take more precautions than others (remote learning, remote visits, remote work, etc.), and we should demand those kinds of accommodations.

But it is going to poison you from the inside out if you are perpetually angry that people who don't have the same medical limitations as you are happy that they get to go shopping with their faces uncovered.

So now I want to talk to you about my father in law.

My father in law had a bone marrow transplant in 2015. That's the most immune compromised you can get without having your organs swapped out.

The care sheet for him after the transplant was a little overwhelming. The list of foods he couldn't eat was intimidating and the limitations on where he could go was depressing. It cautioned against going to large events, it recommended outdoor gatherings where possible but only if he could avoid sunlight and was somewhere with no history of valley fever. It said that he should wear masks indoors any time he was someplace with poor ventilation and that he should avoid contact with anyone who had an illness of any kind, taking special note to avoid children and anyone recently vaccinated for measles.

It was, in short, pretty much what someone immune compromised would need to do to try to avoid a viral infection. Sensible. Reasonable. Wash your hands and social distance; wear masks in sensitive contexts and don't spend time in enclosed places with people who have a communicable illness.

This is what life was always going to be like for people who are severely immune compromised, and it was always going to be incumbent upon the person with the illness to figure out how to operate in a society that is not built with them in mind.

It is not the job of every parent I encounter to tell me whether their child has been vaccinated against measles or chicken pox in the last three months. That isn't something that people need to do as part of their everyday life. However it IS my responsibility to check with the parents I'm hanging out with whether their children have been vaccinated against measles or chicken pox in the last three months so I know if it's safe for my immune compromised spouse to be around them.

If you want an environment in which you feel safe from covid, at this point in the pandemic (when the virus is endemic and not spreading rapidly as far as we can see from case counts) it is your responsibility to take the steps necessary to make you feel safe. Some of those steps will involve advocating for safety improvements in public spaces (again, indoor ventilation needs to be better and I'm personally pretty extreme about vaccination requirements; these are things we should be discussing in our school board meetings and at our workplaces), some of those steps will involve advocating for worker protections, guaranteed sick time, and the right to healthcare. But some of the things you're going to need to do to feel safe are going to come down to you.

If you are concerned about communicable diseases you have to be realistic about the fact that our society doesn't go out of its way to prevent communicable diseases - norovirus among food service workers pre-pandemic is pretty clear evidence of that. You are going to have to be proactive about your safety rather than expecting the world to act like Covid is at 2021-2022 levels when it is measurably not.

[x-brik-x]

I'm seeing a lot of people say that punk fashion is expensive and inaccessible, which is very wrong. here is a list of some ways you can make punk fashion easier, cheaper and more accessible for you, since that's... kinda the whole point.

others are encouraged to add onto this!! (just don't recommend corporations like amazon. not cool.)

1. patches!! you don't need to buy them. DIY patches are not ugly or boring. in fact, they are encouraged here!! DIY, in my opinion, is always the best thing to do when it is an option and is safe to do so.

2. speaking of DIY, spikes!! you can make them!!

cut the top and bottom off of an empty can. cut down the middle of the cylinder and flatten it, so it's just a flat rectangle of metal.

cut out a shape that is kind of a third of a circle, but around 3/4 of the curved edge is taken up by triangle shapes. (I'm not very good at describing, so here's a badly drawn picture)

roll it into a cone, leaving the 4 triangles sticking out at the bottom. this bit is optional, but you can fill it with hot glue to make it more sturdy, just be careful touching the hot metal. I tend to hold the cone by one of the triangles with a bit of fabric wrapped around my fingers for this bit. cut 4 small holes in your fabric in this kind of shape:

and put the spiky bits of triangle through the holes. fold the triangles in on themselves to secure the spike in place. boom. spike obtained. this is one I made and attached to a little piece of fabric to test this method out:

3. battle vests!! (like the base jackets). the best places to buy these are charity shops and second hand websites in my opinion, but if anyone else knows any better options, please reblog with those!!

a good trick I find works well on eBay is to filter search results to your country (or state? can you do that in the US? idk) so that a: fast delivery because local, and b: all the sellers of everything that shows up are in YOUR TIME ZONE.

why is this important? when people sell something for really cheap, it goes FAST. check eBay at like, 2am or something. all the scalpers in your area are asleep. grab the cheap stuff while they can't.

4. sewing!! want patches, but can't sew for whatever reason? I've heard of a lot of people with joint conditions like arthritis complain about the inaccessibility of patch stuff, and that does sound extremely annoying, however:

safety pins!! while they are still a little fiddly, they're much less work so you don't have to fiddle about for long. if you can, you could even ask a friend to help, since it doesn't take long at all I'm sure someone will be willing to help out!! (I know I would, but that's just me, and I love this kind of thing). safety pins on clothes are also widely considered to be a symbol of solidarity, so if anything, you're adding some extra love and meaning to your patch pants/battle jacket.

if that's still too fiddly, fabric glue is always an option. unfortunately this means you won't be able to remove/reposition patches, at least without leaving a massive patch of residue, but if you're ok with that then fabric glue is probably your best bet.

for people who prefer sewing: as for where to get the thread, I've heard a lot of people recommending dental floss, as it's apparently much cheaper and works just as well. I haven't tried this myself so can't confirm that, but I thought I'd share it regardless.

5. where to get fabric!! old clothes. rip em up. you don't need any kind of fancy fabric from the craft store. my patches are made of old jeans that I grew out of.

don't have any old clothes and you don't want to waste any good ones? I'm not sure about other countries, but in the UK, as long as you're not on private property (trespassing), dumpster diving is perfectly legal.

I definitely ;) do NOT encourage ;) trespassing rich people's land ;) to steal from their dumpsters ;)

or tbh it doesn't matter too much how rich the person is, since it's all going to landfill anyway. if it's in the bin, it's free game, but you didn't hear that from me. ;)

please add onto this where you can!! and if I missed something or got anything wrong, add that on too!!

#diy punk #patch jacket #battle vest #patch vest #punk vest #diy patches #punk battle jacket #battle jacket #punk patches #patch pants

[nerdpoe]

Danny decides to open a haunted house for Halloween-in Gotham. For kicks. He reserves the opening night for the Bats and only the Bats. The Bats do not have a choice in this.

They all wake up in the haunted house.

Their rogues, who had big plans, also wake up in the haunted house-but they don't get the toned down spooky version Danny's working on for potential customers that he's doing a test-run with via Bat testers.

No, the Rogues are locked in the basement with the ghosts of everyone they've killed.

Danny's got Tucker running the cameras, Sam helping coordinate the Ghosts, and Danny himself is running the actual spooky bits.

In theory, it's the perfect haunted house.

The best way to test it though, he feels, is against heroes that face scary things every day.

So.

Red Hood walking down a hallway, sees feet dangling from the ceiling. But there's a convenient beam blocking their view, so he strides up just as the feet vanish-and that's a solid wooden ceiling.

There's a note with a smiley face.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Robin sees a shadow, and he chases it. And chases it. And chases it. And foolishly he somehow manages to let it lead him to a dead end-only when he turns around, the shadow is in the door.

And it's just a being made of pure shadow, with elongated limbs, breathing with a horrible wet rasp as it stares down at him.

Then it disappears.

In it's place, there's a note.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Red Robin hears Batman call out for him to look something over, so he goes into the room.

Batman isn't there.

Batman's voice whispers in his ear from behind.

"Never thought you'd fall for that~"

The door slams shut.

Red Robin turns to open it, but it won't open. Not even if he picks the lock.

The floor creaks, and when he turns around he sees Batman standing right there-only for him to dissolve piece by piece.

In the puddle of weird green goo, there's a note.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Bruce is in what looks like a child's room.

The temperature drops, and he braces for a supernatural event, because this is clearly what's going on.

The air stands still-and every single toy's head snaps to look at him.

They open their mouths and scream, green goo gargling up and spilling out of their lips.

The lights cut out, then they come back on; and the toys are all arranged around him in a peculiar pattern.

There's a note at his feet.

His lips quirk up against his will.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Nightwing knows he's being fucked with.

He knows it.

He recognizes the room he's in-it was in the pamphlet for the new haunted house opening in Gotham. He'd really wanted to go, actually, but he was kinda sad he didn't have anyone with him.

He wanted it to be a family outing.

But from what it looks like, this is probably a test run. No ones emergency beacons have gone off, and there's only swearing in the comms cut through with mild amusement on Bruce's part.

Ugh, he doesn't want spoilers! He wants to go through it for the first time with everyone else!

"Hey, um, I was actually planning to come here with my family! I don't really want to be spoiled on anything, so can I skip this? And can I have anyone you haven't tested it on skip it too? Cuz they're probably friends or family and I want to be on the same knowledge level of what to expect."

The air itself seems to pause.

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry man. I didn't even think of that; I'll pull Spoiler and Signal before we start their runs."

Nightwing turns towards the intercom and waves cheerfully.

"I mean, we'd definitely be down to walk through the house tonight, but I want to do it in a group so we can laugh at each other."

"Oh, for sure, I just got too caught up in the 'creepy' part of the haunted house. The exit is hidden in the wall to your left, just pick up the rotary phone and it should pop out."

"Alright, I'll be waiting for them at the front!"

@simplestoryteller

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #story prompt #phanfic #danny and co own and run a year-long haunted house in gotham #rogues are afraid to go anywhere near it #it becomes the most successful haunted house in the usa #it actually creates a tourism factor for gotham besides people wanting to see the “most crime ridden city ever” #danny and dick get along great #and after things settle he works with the bats (without knowing their civvie identities) to make it better #bruce is highly amused by the whole thing #the fact that during halloween it's basically gotham rogue daycare really helps with that #long post #ficlet

[bet-on-me-13]

Ellie wasn't born a Halfa

So! Jason just found something weird. Or rather. Someone.

A little girl, no more than 6 or 7, crying behind a dumpster in an alleyway. Now, as unfortunate as it is, this isn't that strange a sight in Gotham. Kids are always running away from home, getting lost, being left homeless after a mugging gone wrong, but this time was different.

Because the kid was glowing.

When he found her hiding behind the Dumpster, a medical gown being the only thing she had to protect herself from thr frigid Gotham Winter, he didn't hesitate to give her his Jacket and take her to his nearest safe house.

(Actually it took a little while to convince her to accept the Jacket, and even longer to get her to agree to being taken to his safe house, but they got there in the end.)

When he had finally gotten her set up in a side room of the Warehouse, with the most comfortable bed and thickest Blankets he could find, he tried asking what had happened.

"Daddy lied." She said. "He said he loved me, but then he made another kid and said he didn't care about me."

And, once again, it was unfortunately not that uncommon to see runaway kids from neglectful homes, but the way she said it raised some flags in his head.

"...and, how did you end up in Gotham?"

"I ran. He said I was a spare, and that scared me."

Well, that was even more horrible than he had anticipated. What kind of monster tells their kid that they're a spare?!

"And, I'm sorry if this is a touchy subject but why are you glowing?"

She just buried her face in the Blankets and shook her head.

"Alright then, that's fine. You can tell me when you're ready, or even not tell me at all, I'll accept either or".

For the next few weeks, Jason juggled running his newly created criminal empire and raking care of the kid. He still hadn't gotten a name out of her, but she said to call her "Dp" instead. 'It's the best I'm gonna get', he thought.

It was only after a few more weeks, right before he was about to begin his Plan of confronting Bruce about the Joker still being alive, that she approached him and agreed to tell him everything. He was actually really glad that she finally seemed to trust him enough to tell him.

"Okay Dp, you can start wherever you want."

"...well, I guess I should start with my name..." She started, "...or rather, my lack of one..."

"What?" Asked Jason in a soft voice.

"I, I don't have a name." She explained, "Daddy never gave me one. He just called me DP-2."

"...what do you mean by two?" Asked Jason.

"It-It's my Experiment Number." She said, stuttering a little, "I'm not a normal person, I'm a Clone. I was made to be daddy's perfect child, but I was just the test run. He said that I wasn't needed after he made DP-3, and that all I was good for was spare parts."

Jason felt his throat dry up. Dp was a Clone? Of who? Who made her? What right did that guy have to reject her?! Who in their right mind would make a Clone and then reject the Clone?! How dare he!

The Pits perked up

He felt the Pits rising a little, but managed to push them down. Dp needed support, not the Pits.

"It's Okay kid." He said, holding her had reassuringly. "It's perfectly okay to be different. I accept you as you are, and I'm sure as hell not gonna abandon you that easily. Or, ever really. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not."

She giggled, and hugged him. A thoughtful look crossed her face, and she pulled away.

"There is one other thing...you know how I glow sometimes?" She asked.

The Pits felt a sense of dread

Jason felt like he wasn't going to like this. "Yeah?"

"Well, when I said I was meant to be a Clone, I never mentioned who of." She explained slowly. "He's a kid named Danny, and when he was 14, he had an accident where he died and came back as a Half Undead."

No...

Jason really wasn't liking where this was going.

"When Da-Vlad tried to make me, he realized that those powers couldn't be cloned..." She paused here, seemingly gathering the courage to continue. "...they needed to be added afterwards."

NO.

He didn't. He had better not have, for his own Fucking Sake, he had better not have done what Jason thinks he did.

"So one day, he took he down to the Lab, and he put me in a big machine." He voice broke a little. "He locked me in there, and then I think...that I died..."

...

For once, Jason felt completely in tune with the Pits. He was going to Kill that guy.

...

Sorry if this feels a little rushed, I kept going back to add or change parts of it.

Basically, Vlad realized that you can't Clone a Halfa. So, he made a workaround. He just stuck his first Viable Clone into a Portal, and let the machine Kill her. When he realized that it worked, he knew he had no use for Ellie anymore aside from spare parts.

And he told her as much, Vlad is a fucking asshole.

Ellie, of course, got scared and ran away. She ended up in Gotham, and was adopted by Jason right at the start of his Criminal Career.

When Jason finally hears about the rest of his kids' Backstory, he decides that Batman can wait his turn. He needs to go Kill that Vlad Bastard.

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Dani Phantom #Danielle Phantom #Ellie Phantom #Ellie is younger #Vlad decided to try his experiment the moment she was old enough to feasibly survive #The Pits are not seperate from Jason #They are actually his Ghost Half (aka his emotional half) shining through #Jason is a Halfa #He doesn't know that though #After they finish their conversation Jason asks Dp if she wants a name #She says yes and eventually he calls her Stella #Or Ellie for short #Cause she is his little starlight #Danny is unaware that Ellie exists #I wonder what happened with him #Maybe he is living his life back in Amity? #Maybe he is on the run because the “real danny” showed up with Vlad claiming that he had been replaced by an Imposter Ghost #And his Parents instantly believed him because Vlad is claiming that he has been no contact for so long trying to save “the real danny” #Maybe Jason finds a second glowing kid hiding behind a dumpster? #And maybe he realizes that this is his daughter's older brother? #Is that what happens? #Well maybe it is #But that's between Me and my crippling inability to finish my Part 2's

[heartfullofleeches]

best friend yans partner making reader cry and yan realizes that it’s not their arms that reader runs to for comfort anymore🫢

You're happy for them.

In the beginning, it was just you and them. Growing up, they had always been a quiet kid. Clung to the hip of the first person who gave them the time of day. You didn't regret your decision then and you don't now. The years you had together were some of the best and you could only wish them happiness going forward. You were so proud of them for building the courage to broaden their friend group... You only wish they let new people in without shutting the old out.

You promised yourself you wouldn't cry when you found out you had to share them with someone else. You promised you wouldn't cry when they cancelled plans to focus on their new relationship. You promised you wouldn't cry when they finally replied to all your calls and texts just to put an end to your life long friendship.

You don't blame them for saying goodbye. It'd hurt less if they had done it in person, but you're adults now - friendships and silly promises are secondary when you've found true love. That's what they said this was in their final message to you- and so you believe them. Won't have much time for movie nights and hanging out like you used to while they're building a life with someone else, so you were bound to drift apart anyway. Everyone always said a bond like yours would stand the test of time, but clearly they were wrong. The best thing you can do for them and yourself is keep your chin high and swallow the tears. As much as it hurts, you won't cry. You won't cry.

"Ugh.. are you are stalker now? It's kind of pathetic for you to cling onto someone you never dated When will it get through your thick skull - they don't need you anymore."

You won't cry. It was pure coincidence that you ran into them again. It makes sense after all the time you've spent together the places you frequented would align. Your old best friend and their new lover had taken a trip to the mall on the day your new acquaintance had taken you to your old stomping grounds to cheer you up. Their partner was like a vulture - watching you from afar and awaiting the second you both were alone to strike. Honestly, it seemed like they didn't even notice you which only teared down another layer of your fragile defense. You want to go home, but you had to wait for your companion. Unlike others - you'd never leave anyone behind.

"They told me all about what it was like when you were younger. How you sucked up every minute of their time and made every thought they had all about you. You're honestly disgusting, you know that?"

Your throat tightens as you're backed into a metaphorical corner. That's not true. You tried to be there for them. They're the one that rejected everyone that wasn't you. Is that really how they viewed you? How they felt about you? Sharp intakes of air build up to the first exasperated wail that rips itself from you. It all crumbles from there. Tears pour from your tired eyes and spent heart. You try so hard to keep it in, wiping at your face and muffling your cries with quivering lips - but they only flood harder. Your aggressor attempts to flee from the scene of the crime as two pairs of footsteps quickly approach.

"Y/n?....."

"Y/n!...."

Sneakers squeak along the mall floor as one sprints to your side, going out of their way to jam their elbow in the ribs of your aggressor as they squeeze past them to get to you. The other stands stagnant as their lover nears - watching as you fall weightless into their arms. They draw back the foot pointed in your direction at first witness to your cries.

"Baby, what happened! Are you okay? This is why I told you to come into the store with me. Calm down, breathe. It's okay. I'm here."

Soft fingers brush away your tears. They dry quicker against someone else's skin. Your head falls to their chest, ears tuned to the gentle beat of their heart to calm the frantic beats in your own. Your companion takes their hand in yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as you follow their instruction and breathe in slowly.

"That's it.... I'm right here. I'll always be right here for you."

Their words are like a dagger to those unfortunate to listen. A blade dug deeper by your redden eyes and the small smile that forms as you gently squeeze your savior's hand. Once upon a time, it was their hand you held when at your worse - just as yours had pulled them out of the wreck their life was before they meet you. You used to be each other's shoulder to cry on. Safe houses from a world that never understood you or bothered to care. They long for that moment in time, but in that instance it all felt too perfect. If they hadn't let you go and found comfort elsewhere they'd only hurt you in the end - crush and buried beneath the weight of the ever-changing, conflicting tide of their feelings for you.

Laughter draws them back to the cruel reality they now face as punishment for their selfish decision.

"I'm fine now - I swear!"

"Nope! Since you won't tell me what's wrong, we ain't stopping until you're all smiles. We're going to hit up every store in this mall until it closes and you find something that completely takes your mind off whatever got you down. As your new best friend, it's my duty to make sure your heart is in good shape.... So I can steal it later on."

"You're such a dick...." Nudging their arm with your elbow, you giggle - then sigh. "Well, if you're paying, I guess I can't complain. Best be on our way then."

A passing glances comes not from you, but from the victor of this scenario. Your new best friend locks an arm around your waist, placing a kiss to your hair before mouthing a single word over your shoulder.

"mine."

A hand reaches out as you disappear into the crowd. It's falls not into the grasp of the one its heart truly desires, and instead into the iron grip of the person they chose as a cheap imitation.

"Can you believe those two?"

".... I'm going to fucking kill that bastard."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble #tw yandere #yandere angst #yandere best friend

[gurugirl]

Best Valentine's Day | bfd!harry

Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Harry's got something special planned.

A/N: They're back! Happy 💘Valentine's💘 Day my loves!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, fluffy, the briefest tiniest bit of angst

Best Friend's Dad!Harry masterlist

Harry remembers well, that day. The day he decided to go to your apartment and finally give in to the tension that had been between you two. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t sure if he would really go through with it. He thought maybe he’d see you in your own space with your big smiling eyes and he’d snap out of it. He hoped he’d snapped out of it. He hoped he’d stop thinking about you the way he was.

But no. That’s not true. He had to face the truth. He did want something to happen. He instigated. He fantasized and he made it a point to have a reason to come see you. And yes, he did want to make sure you were okay after breaking up with your boyfriend, but it was all born of selfish things. He wanted you. Even if it was just a dirty secret, there was something about testing the waters with you that he always looked forward to.

And once he got to know you as more than just his daughter’s friend he didn’t want it to end. Once he got to have you in bed and wake up lazy in the morning to you wanting more of him and how easy it was to not get caught. Then secret texts, long conversations, quick visits to see your face in the morning over a cup of coffee before he had to be at work… then he found he wanted even more. He didn’t just want to pop in and get his dick wet and leave. He wanted to talk to you and hold you and laugh. He liked the way you looked at him and the way you said his name and how you’d pout when he had to leave.

“What are you thinking about?” You reached across the table to poke at his cheek. He seemed pensive. And lately, that was the norm. You were both stressed. The divorce was stressful for you both.

Harry had to prove that he hadn’t spent all that much money on you. His ex was going after him for cheating and had accused him of spending his money on you when it should have gone to the household or their combined savings. But the truth was he really hadn’t spent that much money on you during the course of your relationship.

It was flowers and some jewelry and groceries and small things. Not rent and car payments like she was trying to prove. Which didn’t matter in the end. Harry’s attorney told him that he’d be paying her alimony which would cover her insurance and current lifestyle, and that would be more than enough. She’d be getting the house, her car, and all of her own retirement. Harry also agreed to give her half of their savings but he was keeping his brokerage which she never contributed to. She wasn’t getting everything she wanted but she sure was trying to make it hard.

“Thinking about how we met and how I went to see you at your apartment that day. Just reminiscing. Crazy how we got here. After everything. Fell in love with you so fast.”

You smiled, “It is crazy. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.”

Harry took your hand and kissed your palm, “Still like a dream.”

You’d been having lots of conversations about the past and future lately. Perhaps it was because his divorce was nearly finalized. Or maybe it was all the talk of getting you pregnant. But there was also the discussion of moving out of your apartment.

The lease on your apartment was coming up. Harry wanted to move you both out of your little place and find something with more space. You would go wherever he went without question but you did warn him you were still jobless. Your contribution would be minimal but he only assured you that he was going to take care of you and he didn’t want your money.

Once a week for the past few weeks you both had been looking at potential new places. Apartments and houses alike. And Wednesday after he got off work you two were on your way to look at a new one.

“Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day,” you suddenly remembered as you spoke from the passenger side of Harry’s car as he drove you to look at a place that was having an open house.

“I know,” he reached across to put his hand on your thigh, “Did you forget?”

You laughed, “I totally did. I think with everything going on it just didn’t cross my mind. But I saw that sign outside of Scasi’s restaurant about their Valentine’s Day special just now.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t plan anything romantic for us?” Harry teased.

“I did not. What would you like Mr. Styles? A night out on the town? Some flowers? Cologne maybe?” You laughed when he squeezed at your thigh.

“Why not all of it?”

You looked toward his side profile and laid your palm over his hand, “I’ll give you all of that if you want.”

Harry glanced at you with his dimpled grin, “Baby, I know you would. But I’ve already got something planned for us. Think you’ll like it.”

You adjusted yourself in your seat and angled your body toward his, “Oh yeah? What have you got planned then?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

The three-bedroom house at the edge of town was adorable. But it wasn’t a rental. Which had you a little surprised. The backyard was plenty big for landscaping (which it was in desperate need of), the master bedroom faced the big ugly backyard but the ensuite bathroom was to die for. All upgraded finishes with a soaker tub and a steam shower.

The kitchen, however, was your favorite. The stove was one of those fancy chef’s stoves with the red knobs. The refrigerator was built into shelving and at first glance looked like a tall cabinet.

“Harry this is a lot. Three bedrooms?” He had your hand in his as you both walked around the space.

“It’s a lot for us right now. But what if we have a baby one day? And that backyard? Ugly as sin right now but I love to garden and I know we could make that something really special. For us. For a family here if we wanted.”

He leaned down to kiss you, his nose knocking against yours playfully making you laugh.

“Maybe you’re right,” you rubbed your palm over his chest.

“I know I’m right.”

.           .           .

You were excited for whatever it was Harry had planned. You didn’t know why he didn’t just tell you but he seemed to always enjoy giving you surprises. He liked making you wait and anticipate what was to come. Sometimes even in bed.

He told you to wear something pretty so you picked out a nice dress and did all the things to pamper yourself that made you feel pretty before he got home from work.

Of course the minute you heard the key in the doorknob you rushed to the door to open it and greet him with a big hug.

He kissed your cheek as you took his coffee travel mug from his hand, “Sure is nice to have you open the door for me like this every time I get home from work. Got me spoiled.”

“Pretty sure you’re the one that’s got me spoiled,” you responded.

It was nice having Harry with you. Knowing you weren’t sharing him with anyone anymore. You knew it was bad to feel smug about such a thing but you kind of did. He picked you. Even if the circumstances were less than ideal, you were the one he chose.

“So, can you at least tell me if we’re gonna eat as part of these mysterious Valentine’s Day plans you’ve made?”

Harry began to unbutton his shirt with a grin on his face, “Why? You hungry honey?”

The way he said it was full of something devilish. Something cheeky. You rolled your eyes at him and laughed, “I kind of am.”

A mischievous smirk rose up on his lips as he lowered his hands to his belt, “I’ve got something to fill your tummy with. Little appetizer…”

You balked at him, “You’re like a teenager!”

He slid his belt from the loops on his pants and pulled your back into his chest, “Mmm… More like a man in love who knows how to feed his hungry baby.”

You laughed loudly and pushed your head back against his shoulder, “How is it you’re always thinking about sex?”

He rocked you back and forth and tucked his face into your neck, “It’s because it’s you. You’re so good to me all the time. So pretty. So smart. S’your fault I’m this way.”

You sighed as he kissed the side of your neck and then let you go, “We don’t have time for any hanky panky anyway,” he spoke as he finished undressing. “Gotta shower up and then get ready myself so I smell just as good as you. We’ll leave here in like thirty minutes.”

Harry put up with you trying to get him to tell you where he was taking you. You didn’t let up but Harry also didn’t give you any direct answers.

“Will there be dancing? Hot air balloons?”

He smiled as he continued looking at the road, “That sounds fun. We’ll see.”

You knew you weren’t going to break him down. When Harry set his mind to something he wasn’t going to budge.

So when he pulled into Club Stella and parked you finally knew what was in store for the night. Or at least you had a good idea. Club Stella was a posh place. It had a funky bar menu with a good selection of snacky bites, along with live bands or DJs, and a nice dance floor.

You had been there once before for a bachelorette party back when you and Fae were still close. It was one of those places where reservations were not super easy to get and it was paid entry.

You were led to a cozy little table not far from where the band was playing and handed special Valentine’s Day menus.

Harry scooted his chair close to yours and flipped the menu to look at the drinks, “Want to share a bottle of wine?”

You looked at the prices of the bottles and scoffed, “Harry every bottle is expensive.”

He laughed and drew his arm over the back of your chair, “Baby it’s Valentine’s Day. I’m gonna spoil you. Pick out what you want.”

When the waiter stopped at the table Harry pinched your arm the slightest when you started to say all you’d have was sparkling water.

“We’ll have a bottle of this,” he pointed at the menu and you rolled your eyes with a smile after the waiter left the table to get the wine.

The food menu was fun. You scanned the options just as the live band changed the song they were covering. The whole theme of the night was romance and the music was definitely part of that vibe.

When the server returned with the bottle of wine you were anticipating what you were going to order. But Harry pulled you to the dancefloor before you could mention what you wanted. You’d been ogling the lobster bites on the menu when he dragged you away He had his hands on your hips, holding you close and you laughed, “Harry I wanted to order! I’m hungry.”

He kissed your cheek, still moving you to the music, and then lowered his mouth to your ear, “Well I tried offering you an appetizer earlier but you turned it down.”

You slid your arms over his shoulders. Even though you were hungry, honestly having a dance with Harry to the song that was being played was certainly better.

He began to sing the lyrics as he swayed you gently, “I’d never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you,” his warm breath falling over your neck felt so sensual. There were others dancing as well so you didn’t feel as exposed. If only they knew the kind of relationship you and Harry had. What had led to that very moment.

When you felt his lips brush over the skin at your neck you sighed as your bodies moved slowly together until the song was over.

Harry looked down at you as the song switched and took your hands in his, “We’ll come back and dance after we eat. Just wanted to start our night off with holding you and dancing with you in front of everyone.”

You understood him. It was taking some time to get used to being public. To flaunt your love. But the more you two went out in public and did things like this, the more you wanted it. The easier it became. It was exciting.

Harry was a romantic at heart. You knew this because you’d been on the receiving end of his gestures. Sometimes he could be cheesy but you loved it nonetheless. Your favorite, though, was how playful he was with you.

You and Harry enjoyed the wine and food and the atmosphere of Club Stella. The later it got, the more people began to dance.

“Come on, let’s go dance,” Harry had his hand at the back of your neck and he squeezed as he spoke, “This is a good song.” Your food was mostly eaten, the wine was just about gone and you were getting warmer and warmer the longer you sat next to Harry and listened to his deep voice in your ear, his hand closest to you on your thigh or the back of your neck nearly the whole time. The man knew what he was doing.

“Okay. Let’s go,” you grinned at him.

You found a good spot on the floor and the song was a little more swingy than the first song you danced to but still sexy. The live band was really good.

Harry’s hands were dangerously close to your ass as pulled your hips against his and looked down at you, “Best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.”

You smiled as you laid your palms over his chest and looked up at him, “Me too.”

One of his hands slid up your back to the nape of your neck as he ducked down to kiss you. And it was like just about every other time he kissed you; hot and needy. He was holding back because you two were in public but you were reminded of the time you had bathroom sex in that nice restaurant in Quebec.

You smoothed your hands along Harry’s shirt over his strong pecs and then fit a finger between the buttons to touch his skin as your mouth opened for him.

He moaned softly and then backed away from the kiss to grin down at you, “What did you do on your last Valentine’s Day?”

You thought back to the year prior, “I think… Oh yeah… Randy had to give me a raincheck. He was working. We never wound up doing anything because it was midweek.”

“Today is Thursday. I have to work tomorrow and I’m still doing something with you. Sounds like he was the biggest dud. Glad I talked you into getting rid of him.”

You laughed and moved your arms up and ran your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, “He was a big dud. But of course, no one can compare to you, can they?”

His smile widened as the hand near your bottom slowly dropped until his palm was pressing into your ass.

The next song slowed things down and he kept you pressed into his hips as you danced together.

Time seemed to slow down or speed up. Every time he kissed you and squeezed your bum you felt yourself melting a little more. But then he ran his lips up your neck and spoke into your ear, “I’m sorry honey. But I can’t keep my cock down,” and you felt him rut into you softly before he turned you to face away from him, your bottom pressed into his bulge.

You gasped with a smile as you turned your head and lifted an arm to hold onto the back of his neck as he swayed you to the beat softly, “Remember that time in Quebec?” You could hear the smile on his mouth as he spoke into your ear.

“I do. Was just thinking about that too. That was fun.”

“Mmm… Might need to find a spot to fuck you like that again.”

You laughed as Harry’s hand on your hip tightened and his other moved up your side to just under your breast. You could feel yourself beginning to grow wet in your panties as Harry’s dick plumped up and pressed into your bottom. You loved that he got so turned on by you.

Another sexy, slow song came on and Harry’s lips stayed on your neck, peppering wet kisses on your sensitive skin. No one else existed. It was just you and Harry.

“Fuck… Baby, I’m serious. I need to have you,” his deep voice whispered against your skin.

You turned in his arms and attempted to hide the hardon he was sporting under his pants, “Should we leave?”

Harry looked around the space, “Let’s go see if there’s a spot we can take care of this.”

You and Harry went back to the area near the stage and he pointed to where the bathrooms were and a short hallway as you grabbed your purse from the table.

“Harry? Harry Styles?” You heard a woman speak, from behind you.

Both you and Harry turned around to see a woman near his age looking between you with a slight frown.

Harry scratched the back of his neck, “Hi Roice.”

“Who is she?” The woman pointed at you and you looked up at Harry.

“Uh, well, this is my girlfriend, Y/n. I don’t know if you knew…”

The woman cut him off and looked at you as she stepped in closer, “You know he’s married right? With a daughter, about your age,” she ran her eyes down your frame and you felt very vulnerable under her scrutiny.

You opened your mouth to respond but Harry took your hand, “Roice, my wife and I are getting divorced. We’re done. This is my girlfriend.”

You zoned out slightly as Harry let go of your hand and put his arm over your shoulder to hold you close. The woman made a comment and gave you a look that you knew wasn’t complimentary of you before she walked off.

“You okay, Y/n?” Harry put his hands on your shoulders and ducked his face down to get in your line of sight.

Nodding you spoke, “Yeah. Just didn’t expect that.”

“Me neither. Let’s just get out of here, okay?”

The bill was already paid as you and Harry left Club Stella and got into his car.

He put his hand on your knee and drove in silence until he pulled into a small lot at a wooded park and turned off the engine.

You looked at him, puzzled, “What are we doing here?”

Harry adjusted his seat and moved it away from the steering wheel and pulled at your hand, “Come here, sweetheart. Sit in my lap.”

You climbed over the console after lifting your dress so you could spread your legs and settle over his thighs.

He put his hand on your hips, “I’m sorry that happened. Did that ruin your Valentine’s Day?”

You smiled as you shook your head, “No, of course not. It just shocked me is all.”

“Shocked me too. But you promise you’re okay?”

You pressed your hands on his shoulders and leaned yourself into his chest to kiss his mouth and began to unbutton his shirt buttons, “I’m fine, Harry.”

You could feel him swallow as his hands moved to push the fabric of your dress up before he brought his hands to the inside of your thighs. He moaned when his finger dragged over the fabric of your panties and he realized you were wet.

You laughed with a smile, “Still wet. Think you can get hard for me again, Harry?”

He laughed and licked into your mouth as he ran his thumb over the wet material at your crotch. It was funny because you both knew the answer to that question. Of course, he could get hard again.

And when you felt his cock plumping up under his pants you began to undo his belt and then his button in haste before pulling him out through the front slot of his boxer briefs, stroking his velvety cock as you kept your mouths moving together.

Harry pushed your panties to the side and lowered his seat for more space as you pushed yourself up and placed his tip at your slippery pussy. He held onto your hips to keep you steady as you placed your palms on the seat back and gently lowered over him.

“Fuck… you always hug my cock perfectly baby.”

You imagined that with his girth it would be hard not to hug his cock the way you did. He was so thick and long and he always stretched you apart when he was inside of you.

Slowly you glided up and down as you looked into his eyes, “God… It’s always so full. Makes me so wet just thinking about how big you are and how deep you get. I always need you, Harry.”

Harry moaned and pressed a hand to your low belly as you continued fucking yourself on him, “Yeah? Like how it feels when I fuck into your tummy? Stuff you full every night ‘cause you need it so bad don’t you, puppy?”

“Yes… God, I need you every day. More than anything I’ve ever needed. I love you so much.” You tilted your pelvis down and pressed your lips to his as you ground yourself over him and felt that pleasant ache when his thick crown nestled into your guts.

You could feel the fabric of his briefs over your clit as you rocked down over him. Harry’s soft moans against your lips sounded desperate and you knew that meant he was close already. You hadn’t had sex that morning like you do some days and you knew he must be aching to burst inside of you.

“Gonna give me your come?”

Harry’s mouth dropped open and he jabbed himself upward, his cock squelching through your wet pussy as he thrust into you, “Is that what you want?” Another thrust upward making you squeal quietly at the deep ache in your tummy, “Want my come, baby?”

“Yes… give it to me,” you moaned as you rolled your pelvis down again and felt how wet his underwear had gotten from your arousal.

“Need you to come with me, my love,” Harry’s words were panted as he gripped the meat of your ass and guided you up and down his cock.

You watched his face as you felt his length open you wide and glide in and out with the sound of wet gushes from your slippery pussy in the small space of the car.

Holding to the seat behind Harry’s head to keep yourself steady, you ran the fingers from your other hand over your clit as Harry kept you bouncing over him slowly.

Desperate moans and the slippery sounds of sex with the background of music on the radio were all you could hear as your legs began to shake.

The moment Harry could tell you were about to come, he began to fuck up into you harder, his hips thudding into you making your body bounce harder as you pressed your fingers and moved them over your swollen nub and cried out at his deep strokes.

“Oh my god! Fuck, Harry!”

He groaned when your pussy began to flutter around him and your cries turned to choked moans.

It was his favorite. Feeling your cunt walls squeeze and spasm around his throbbing, leaking cock. He gave you a few more harsh plunges until he pulled you down over him and grunted with his head thrown back into the seat, draining his cock inside of your guts.

Your head was spinning and your heart was pounding as you came down and heard him panting as he throbbed inside of you. You’d never get tired of watching him coming, of feeling the way his body shivered when he pumped into you.

He pulled you against his chest as he breathed hard and you could feel the way he was still twitching inside of you.

When you felt his lips at your neck and heavy breaths puffed against your skin you opened your eyes and turned to look at him with a smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry.”

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#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #firstpost #dilf!harry #best friend's dad!harry #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles x yn #harry styles imagine #harry styles fiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry #harry smut #harry x yn #harry x reader #harry edward styles #harrystyles #dad!harry #harry styles daddy

[queers-gambit]

When The World Seems So Cruel

prompt: ( requested ) Billy knows something's bothering his girl, so, he follows his instincts and checks on her - family, friends, and slutty cheerleaders in bikinis be damned.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.1k+

warnings: cursing, smut 'cause why not, boys being assholes 'cause they're losers, misogyny, toxic / abusive / neglectful family, description of background violence, angst, did Cherry really write it if there wasn't a helluva lot of projection and need for revocation of internet access?

"Miss Cahill? I'm sorry to interrupt," you half-smiled at your math professor, "but I was just wondering if you still had my test? I never got mine back."

"Right," she cleared her throat, glancing around your body to see most of the class empty at that point. "I wanted to talk to you about that," she paused to pull out your test from a manilla folder. "I was very shocked to grade this under your name, honey, you're usually such a well-focused and high-achievin' student, I mean, you're on track for the Nat Scholarship! So, to see this... Was shockin', it's... Not your best work," she winced, handing the packet over.

You blinked in shock, frowning as anxiety mounted in your chest when you saw the glaring F in red marker. You mumbled in embarrassment, "I guess I've just been off my game..."

"Honey," Miss Cahill sighed in her light country accent, leaning on her desk with both fists so your eyes met hers, "I can always tell when one of my students is goin' through somethin' at home."

You froze, shaking your head, "No, no, it's not... It's not so bad."

"What's goin' on?"

You shrugged, "I've just been... Really tired," you decided on excusing, hoping beyond hope it was enough.

It wasn't, of course it wasn't. Miss Cahill just sighed and offered, "I can let you retake the test next week - but only after you go see the guidance counselor."

"Right... Um, yeah, okay, yeah, sounds good; um, thanks, Miss Cahill."

You made an escape, distracted by the third failing test you received this week; nearly barreling straight into a meaty, solid chest. "Woah, hey, no need to run 'round lookin' for the man of your dreams, I'm right here, doll," Billy teased, hands grabbing your upper arms to steady you. "What's got you inna rush, baby? You know I pick you up after this class."

You smiled in brief distraction, "Yeah, sorry, baby, I was just thinking about this essay coming up. Hi," you offered, stretching up on your toes to kiss him in greeting. "How're you?"

He half-smirked, "I'm good, you know Mr. Brunson's got a stick up his ass as usual."

"Mhm. As usual, and totally has nothing to do with you provoking him," you teased, latching onto his waist as you shoved your test deep in your shoulder-bag. You neared his locker, and you managed to choke out, "Hey, um... Y-You wanna get outta here?"

Billy offered you a look of mild confusion, smirking with a strange laugh, "You wanna ditch school?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"I'm just tired," you offered meekly, "I feel like I haven't slept in a week."

Billy lead you up to his locker, hand on your waist to keep you close as he mused, "This feels like a setup."

"It's not, I promise."

He yanked the metal door open, "Uh-huh. You told me when I met you that I'd have to practically kidnap you to get you to skip class. Huh? 'Member all that? All them lectures you gave me 'bout the importance of goin' t'class if I wanna do anything after this shithole?"

"Yeah, but things change, Bee."

Billy's face dropped, shoving his books into his open locker before turning, leaning his shoulder on the locker next to his, arms crossed as he stared at you. "What's wrong?" He questioned sharply.

"Billy, I'm just tired."

"No, it's something else. What's wrong? What's goin' on?"

You sighed, "You know what? It's okay, nevermind, I actually promised Eddie that I'd help him make those banners for SGA during lunch today, so," you glanced around, "I'm gonna go."

"Nah, baby, hol' up, I ain't mean - "

"I know, handsome," you promised softly, nodding as you reached for his waist to give a squeeze and keep him close. "I just forgot I told a friend I'd help them out, so, I'll just see you after, yeah?"

One hand rose to pet over your cheek, sighing, "You sure you're good? You don't look okay, sugar."

"I'm good," you nodded, deflating into his embrace and hearing him chuckle. "I'm just stretched thin this week, probably shouldn't make promises to my delinquent friends with all the college drama to worry about."

"What'd Munson do this time to only get banner-duty? Huh?"

"Probably got caught skipping or something," you mumbled against his pectoral; inhaling the scent of his mall-bought cologne and finding it a refreshing change from the CVS-brand he used when you first met. "School did something right by makin' everyone in detention serve the SGA for all their shit."

"Definitely got me to shape up," he joked, pecking the top of your head before finishing, "but I mostly missed out on time with you."

"Hey... I was thinking, maybe I can come over this weekend? Keep Max company, maybe keep Neil at bay? Can have a sleepover, too, if you want."

Now Billy's head cocked and his expression hardened, "The fuck you wanna come over for? You know how tense shit gets - "

"Billy."

"Nah, you're not makin' sense, pretty girl," he snapped, pulling back to stare down at you. "What's going on with you? You don't wanna be at home or something? The fuck's goin' on that's so bad you'd rather be at my place?"

You felt tongue tied, but the bell rang shrilly and literally saved you from needing to answer. "Shit, I gotta run, baby. I'll find you later, okay?" You promised, lifting onto your toes to kiss him, promising, "I love you."

He frowned, grumbling, "Yeah, love you, too." He watched you vacate the hall, his mind basically going blank to all other thought beside you. The entire lunch period, he sat on the hood of his car, chain smoking, wondering where he went wrong; what he did to upset you; what could be going on and most importantly, why you couldn't say anything to him about it.

However, after lunch, Billy found you in the library's designated SGA room and thought you appeared ten times as relaxed, laughing with Eddie Munson. When the punk caught Billy's eye, he nodded in respect; gesturing for you to look, and your head turned with a smile. You parted from Eddie and trotted up to Billy, feeling relieved when he grabbed you in a possessive hold; searing his lips to yours.

"Hi," you giggled.

"You seem happy."

"Kinda hard to be in a bad mood around Eddie."

"I can see," he lead you away. He wanted to bring back up about whatever was bothering you, but didn't; fearing ruining your joyful mood. Instead, his fingers just tangled with yours and you entered history together.

What should've been a decently peaceful class turned into a state of confusion for you and Billy when the intercom kicked on, the front office asking for your presence with the principal. Billy glared at the speaker box as you cast him a look of doubt, both confused by the summons; being all too used to them calling his name instead. All of history passed miserably; Billy alone without his favorite person to keep him on track and becoming antsy the longer you were gone. When you didn't return by the end of class, he grabbed anything you left and begrudgingly went to the last two classes of the day.

When the final bell rang, Billy waited for you at his car for a solid 25 minutes with several cigarettes being burned, but when you still didn't show, he grew worried. So, he stored everything in his Camaro, not needing to worry about his sister because Max got a ride home with her new bestie, Jane, and her father, Jim Hopper, and stormed through the school. Anger radiated off his very being, nearly stomping his steps, and just before he got to the front lobby, he saw you exiting the office.

You didn't notice him at first, and for a moment, Billy thought you were going to hurl whatever was on your stomach as you held a few pieces of paper in shaking hands. "Baby," he called your attention, finding your eyes light up at the sight of him. "The hell's goin' on? You were gone the rest of the day, I got worried."

"Yeah, it was some shit wrong with my college applications, but we got it straightened out," you lied, stepping into his embrace. "I'm sorry I worried you, handsome."

He met your lips in a kiss, promising, "Not your fault. C'mon, day's over, our weekend can start once we get the hell outta here."

"Hmm," you hummed dreamily. "Lemme go to my locker and we can get gone."

Billy didn't mind waiting, and when you were done at your locker, he escorted you to his car; only a few students still lingering after hours. He opened your passenger door, winking at you, then quickly jogged to his side and slid in. "C'mere," he breathed, reaching for your cheek instantly; hand sliding along the back of your neck and bringing you in close.

You moaned when Billy's lips molded to yours; all but instantly salivating when his tongue tangled with your own in a messy dance. You had a few rules about PDA, especially in school; but being in his car was neural territory and Billy needed a way to expel his neediness. Praising God for making today steadily warm and that you wore a skirt, you were ready to cry when Billy's hand came down to grip the meat of your thigh.

"Billy," you rushed when his hand traveled under your skirt to ghost over your panties.

"Nobody's here t'watch," he smirked. "C'mon, lemme do this for you, pretty girl. You don't wanna go home yet, right? Ain't got some curfew?"

"Nope," you surged forward to slam your lips to his, moaning when his hand now confidently pet your panties as your legs spread all the wider to encourage him.

"Good girl," he praised quickly, skimming the apex of your thigh to hook your panties and pull them to the side. "Mhm," he hummed with a cocky smirk, "I knew you liked getting fucked in public. Feel how fuckin' wet you are - shit, Goddamn."

You mewled; tension mounting as you tightened up from the stoking pleasure. "Billy - " You gasped when he plunged his fingers into your cunt, easily sliding in due to your arousal. "Ohhh, fuck," you breathed, eyes shut and mouth agape in pleasure, "needed this - needed this so bad. Just needed you."

"You'll get so much more, baby."

You whimpered, "Now, please. Please, please, please."

He smirked, "Wanna get in the back or ride me, princess? Huh? Tell me what you need."

Your eyes locked with his as you thought it over, but then, you smirked as you readjust the passenger seat and turned so your ass was propped up. It gave him a full view of your messy cunt; panties askew from his previous motions and fluid rubbed all around. Billy reached out with one hand to plunge his pointer and middle finger back into your core, the other wrangling open his belt, button, and jean zipper in frantic movements.

He shimmied from the garments and sat up, following your lead in adjusting his seat. He instantly mounted behind you over the center console, licking his palm and stroking his himself to life as he drug his cockhead up and down your wetness.

Billy reached out to move your panties once more, line himself up, and plunge full-hilt. You gasped and grunted, letting yourself be shoved forward a little to catch on the seat; Billy hissing between his teeth as your warmth enveloped him in a sticky-wetness. "Hang on, doll, ah, fuck, there we go," he chuckled, readjusting his position before starting to move his hips to create the most delicious friction.

"Fuuuuck, Billy!" You whined when he held both your hips with only one hand keeping your panties to the side.

"Needed this, too," he chuckled. "Good girl, fuckin' taking me so well. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you? Fuck you however I want to, huh? Yeah," he lifted one hand to smack the meat of your bottom, creating a ripple; liking the way you twitched and delivered two more, finishing, "I know my pretty baby would let me do whatever I fucking wanted with her - " he clenched his teeth, hips punctuating his words, "'cause she was fuckin' made for me."

"Yes," you moaned, mind blank from all the previous drama of your day; ready to weep like a bitch in heat, "anything, baby, yes, yes, yes, anything you want."

"Good girl," he laughed ruefully; picking up the pace to fuck you outta your mind as he ensured you felt every throbbing vein of his engorged cock. He chased his own orgasm as you were charged with your own; hand reaching for your clit to start applying pressure in tight circles. "Let me cum in you, sweetheart. C'mon, baby, tell me I can cum in you - in this pretty pussy - in my pretty pussy - lemme fuckin' cum in you."

"Billy, fuck - yes, baby, yes! Yes, harder, please, fuck me harder and you can cum wherever you want."

"Even your ass?"

"Yes, Daddy, yes, anything you want! Fuck my ass full of your cum, please, fuck, I need it! Whatever you want, I need. Please!"

Billy's golden curls stuck to his forehead and neck, entire car rocking with frantic, animalistic movements - but anyone lingering around the school to see it wasn't surprised. Billy felt like he went faster than usual, that he got a little rougher; but he was nearing his end and it was hard to keep pace. When you cried out and legs shook from your flash-bang of an orgasm, he knew you had finished and could focus on his own; never pulling out.

He'd fuck your ass later.

"Fuck!" Billy came with a shout; shooting hot, salty, opaque white ropes of cum into your quivering cunt. He stuttered his hips into the meat of your ass, balls contracting; emptying himself inside you as you relished in the feeling of his warmth flooding your lower belly. He chuckled, mocking, "Might just have to get you off that pill so I can get you fucking pregnant already."

"Whatever Daddy wants."

Billy laughed as he pulled out of you slowly, instantly turning again to crash into his driver seat. You went a little limp but managed to turn over, both panting as the windows were fogged up; but aired out when Billy rolled two down to light up his cigarette. "So," he spoke through his inhale and deep breaths, "you wanna tell me whats wrong now?"

"Hmm?"

"Why're you so distracted? Distant? Even with me?"

You felt panicked by the confrontation, resorting to your last line of defense. "Just dealing with a lot," you answered as your legs spread as wide as you could to start toying with your beaten-pussy. He watched with a stoic expression as you used your fingers to stuff his dripping-cum back inside you. "'S been stressful, guess I just had a bad day," you whined lightly, still playing.

"Fuck's sake."

"Hmm?" You feigned innocence.

"You're just askin' for it, huh?"

"Maybe," you pouted, "or maybe I just need your cum - "

"Cut it out, we gotta go," he snickered, turning the key in the ignition. "Your dad hates me enough, can't have you late for family dinner."

You went quiet as your thoughts were plagued with a screaming voice that begged Billy to just read your mind and understand what was wrong - why you were so upset, so panicked. But you knew better. So, you flipped down your skirt and readjusted yourself, sucking your fingers of his cum before letting his hand tangle with one of yours on your lap.

"Maybe you'd wanna come over tonight?" You asked softly. "Go see a movie or something?"

"You never wanna go out on Friday nights," he chuckled, but something felt terribly wrong about the notion. "You do homework and study on Friday and Sunday nights, you said it was a relationship rule, huh?"

"Things can change," you pouted.

"I told Tommy and Ryan I'd hang with them and the guys tonight," Billy spoke slowly. "But I can cancel if you - "

"No, no, don't," you shook your head, "go see your friends. 'Cause I'll see you in the morning, right?"

"Right."

"And I can stay the night... Right?"

Billy nodded, "Anytime you want, baby, yeah."

"Okay, cool," you spoke softly, deflating in his seat when he pulled up to your house. "Um..." You stared up at the home as if it were haunted. "Do you wanna come in for a little?"

His head tilted and brows furrowed, "I have to pick up Max from Hopper's, remember?"

"Right!" You gaped, but didn't move.

"What's wrong?" He asked with a hardened tone, making you gulp lightly. "You don't wanna go in?"

"I could, like, just go with you?"

"Baby, the fuck's going on? Know I hate repeating myself and shit, so just fucking tell me - maybe I can fucking help."

"Nothing, no, it's just, it's nothing, I'm sorry, I just - I'm sorry," you chuckled. "Guess I'm PMSing and feel clingy or something."

He only hummed as you leaned over to kiss him in parting. Both promised you love each other before you got out, jogging up the driveway and opening the front door; pausing to wave at him and then disappear in the house.

"Yo, dickhead! Hey! Grab me a beer!" Tommy Hagan called to Ryan Sheen as he went to rummage in his uncle's basement fridge. "And grab Billy one, too!"

"Nah, I'm good," Billy refused, glancing at the can in his hand. It was still half-full. He didn't feel like drinking after having time to sit and think about your behavior the past few days, worrying about you more than he wanted to get drunk.

"What?" Tommy laughed obnoxiously, smacking his teeth after. "You don't want a second? What's wrong with you, got some test you gotta study for?" He laughed at his own joke. In Tommy H.'s mind, only fucking losers study on Friday nights.

"Nah," Billy eased, setting his can down as he felt his irritation flare. He was annoyed at Tommy, sure, but also by the idea that something was wrong with you and you didn't trust him enough to say anything. "I actually gotta go, you guys," Billy stood.

"What?" Now Ryan scoffed, slapping a can of beer to Tommy's open hand. "You're not serious, dude! We've only been here, fuckin' what? Half an hour, bro!" He sucked his teeth in annoyance, rolling his eyes, "C'mon, we were going to Alicia's pool party tonight - you're supposed to give us a ride! The fuck's more important than the slutty cheerleaders in bikinis?"

"That Maria chick's been all over you, too," Tommy laughed. "You can't tell us a single thing that's better than Maria Thomas, all soaped up, in that tiny bikini she wore for the car wash. It's all our wet dreams come to life, Billy, you can't seriously consider missing that!"

"Not everybody's desperate to see Maria's tit-job. You know what? Whatever, man, I gotta go see my girl," he tugged his jean jacket on, tugging his blonde curls out of the collar.

Ryan rolled his eyes as Tommy laughed, "No way. Nuh-uh. You're seriously going to fuckin' ditchin' us for that chick?"

"Man, fuck you, guys, I'm ditching your dumbasses for my girl," Billy snapped. "Better what your fucking mouths and how you talk about her."

"Whatever, man. You're just whipped."

"She got you on some leash or some shit? Got you on a curfew like she's your mommy?" Ryan rolled his eyes, groaning, "Seriously, dude, we only see you at practice now!"

"Look, I just know something's up with her, so, I gotta check on - "

"So, what!? She ain't even tell you why she's pissed off? C'mon, man, that is such a stupid fuckin' tactic chicks use to get guys to go crawling back to their spoiled asses! Bitches do the pettiest shit to get us to suck up to them and shit."

Billy turned and easily caught Tommy by the collar of his shirt before he could even let go of his beer can, slamming the loudmouth into the wall as the aluminum can clattered. Ryan and the two other irrelevant guys left in the basement could only freeze, knowing Billy Hargrove's aggression and not wanting to become part of the receiving end.

"I told you to watch your fucking mouth," Billy seethed.

"Fuck offuva me!" Ryan pushed Billy's arms off. "She's just some bitch, bro, you've already fucked most of the school - what's so different with her?"

Billy scoffed, nodding in amusement as he backed off a few steps. "You know? If I wanna go hang with my girl instead of you deadbeat dickheads, 's exactly what I'm gonna do. Not my fault y'all ain't shit and don't know what it means to keep a chick happy."

"Fuck off, Billy! You're so fucking pussy whipped!" Tommy barked. "Ditching us for that crybaby! Dude, it's not even real! She didn't even tell you whatever she's all upset about! You just had a feeling, so, just sit the fuck down, finish your drink, down a fuckin' second beer, and then let's go to the party! See some bitches that are actually worth seeing!"

Billy shook his head, "I ever hear y'all talkin' about my girl like this again," he chuckled dryly, "might be the last time y'all can even form words. Fuck yourselves," he sneered.

Billy didn't hesitate to storm out of the room, ignoring their jeers and sneers about him being "pussy whipped" and all their complaints about him skipping out on being their ride to "the hottest party of the year." The door slammed behind him, rattling a few windows; making a beeline for his Camaro and pausing at the trunk. He found a pair of your sports shoes you'd eventually need, grabbed them in a white-knuckle grip, then got in the driver's seat and peeled away.

When Billy got to your house, he noticed the lights in your bedroom were barely turned on; knowing you didn't like overhead lighting and probably had a string of lights plugged in. On the contrary, the rest of the house seemed wide awake - every single downstairs light turned on. He grabbed your shoes and his school books (left in his backseat) and got out of his parked car, approach the front door, and paused when a barrage of voices suddenly met his ears. He froze.

The screams were full of hate, and while he couldn't make out distinct words, he heard both your mother and father's elevated voices. It was relentless, it was full of anger and hate and confusion and accusations and Billy wasn't sure how long he stood there with his fist raised. With a deep breath, Billy finally knocked at the door... Then again... Then again... And again, using the metal knocker to bang rapidly. He heard the voices lower and stopped knocking; taking a step back, then waited with his best look of indifferent innocence.

When the door ripped open, Billy was greeted by your angry-looking mother, who didn't look at who was at the door when she snarled, "What the fuck do you want!?"

"Uh, yeah, um, hi, ma'am..." Billy waved awkwardly.

"Oh, Billy," she gasped. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was you, sweetie. What's wrong? What - What time - ? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt so late, but nothing is wrong," he assured. "I just know your daughter's a little forgetful when there's a test comin' up," he chuckled, holding up the shoes and his books, "and she promised to help me nail this essay for my college portfolio... Did I use that correctly? Portfolio? She's always tryna broaden my vocabulary," he chuckled smoothly.

She smiled warmly, another victim to his charming influence, "Sure, honey, yes, of course, it's Friday or something, right, of course you can come in. C'mon, c'mon in." She stepped out the way to let Billy enter into the foyer. "Baby Girl's just upstairs in her room," she gestured with a wine glass Billy just noticed towards the staircase as she used your childhood nickname. They paused at the grand bannister, her eyes rolling when there came the muffled pounding of a bass-line from some song turned up to the max. "She's always blasting her music now adays, it'll make her deaf," your mother scoffed, taking a long sip, then waved him up. "Go on, get up there, good luck on your essay."

"Thank you, Miss Lady," he purred with a small smirk; nodding as he then watched her retreat to the sitting room, and barely a moment later, your father was exiting the kitchen.

"Billy," he greeted stiffly, glass of scotch in hand.

"Sir," Billy replied with a nod of respect, stepping out of his shoes (per household rules) to leave your parents at the front of the house's sitting room; beginning his ascent to the second level. He'd been there before, so, locating your room was like muscle memory; knocking when he approached the door and pausing when he only heard blaring music.

Another knock, no answer. So Billy opened your door.

You were sat on the ground, back against your bed, record player spinning, and the window you faced cracked open to waft the cigarette smoke out. His heart clenched when he saw you, your sadness nearly tangible as light made your tear-tracks on your cheeks glitter. "Baby," Billy spoke softly, watching you jump in shock. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I tried to knock."

You nodded absently, "Music's on."

"Yeah, 's a good song," he allotted as he shut your door securely and asked, "want it locked?"

"Doesn't lock," you answered robotically, looking back out the window.

"Can I turn the music down, baby, please? Real hard t'hear you."

You nodded and he lowered the volume - but when he did, he understood why you had it so high. Your parents could be heard arguing downstairs, and even with an entire floor between you, it was still loud. So, he turned the music up just a little, frowned, and moved beside you, grunting lightly as his tight jeans constricted while he sat.

"Can I?" He asked, pointing at the cigarette. You handed it over mutely, your usual quip of "it's may I, not can I," nowhere to be heard. After two puffs, he meant to hand it back, but instead, you just fell into his side as if all energy you had to keep you up was depleted; a nearly drowned-out whimper emitting. Billy saw the coffee mug you had been using as an ashtray and dropped the cigarette instantly, using both arms to tug you into his lap.

Billy held you in a fetal position, gently and slowly squeezing you into his chest as he needed to feel you close; and you evidently needed to feel physical love. Billy had to gulp harshly when he felt your tears soak his shirt first, then the jerking of your shoulders; quivering of your body. This long week had finally caught up.

"Baby," he sighed, kissing your forehead. And instead of asking the idiotic and repetitive 'are you okay?', Billy instead just asked in a hush, "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

Through your tears, you answered in a hiccuping-hush, "I didn't want it to be real."

Billy just sighed again, pulling you in tighter so you set under his chin. He let you simply rest, he just wanted to feel close to you... But something caught his eye. About three feet from you was your slumped, turned-over backpack; spewing contents as if it had been tossed aside in a fit of rage. What was interesting, though, was the crumpled pieces of paper; at least one sporting a huge, uppercase F circled in red marker.

"Yeah?" He whispered, sighing as he wanted to bite his tongue but couldn't. "Seems real enough to fuck up your grades though, huh?"

"I can retake the tests."

"You're gonna have to study."

"I know... 'S kinda hard to study here, though. Can't really focus on anything when all that's, you know, going on."

"No shit, Sherlock."

You snorted through your tears, "Don't make me laugh, I'm sad."

He smirked, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Listen, I'll just... We'll go to the library for tonight, and after, we can go to my place. How's that?"

"Thought you weren't allowed overnight visitors?"

"I'm not, but sneakin' inna my place can't be worse than tryna focus while here, right? Gotta be better than listening to this shit."

You nodded against his neck as a distant glass shattered, making you relent, "Touché."

"C'mon," he decided, kissing your forehead again, "pack a bag, baby. You're comin' with me - don't gotta stay here. Not tonight. Gonna come stay with me."

You pulled back just enough to ask, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, pretty girl," he smirked, caressing your cheek. "Might even let you do that green face goop thing you love bothering me about."

"It's an avocado face mask, and when your skin is literally glowing, you can thank me then."

Billy grinned down at you, taking the moment to swoop down and connect your lips in a long kiss; breathing each other in. When a second shatter sounded from downstairs, you flinched away, but Billy was quick to hush, "Hey, hey, hey," and when your eyes met his, he assured, "you're safe with me. Always safe with me." You nodded, tears shining in your eyes. "And you don't ever have to hide these parts of you - not from me. Never from me. I love you, pretty girl," he whispered, "and all parts that make you exactly who you are. Family included."

"I don't deserve you," you whispered.

"Nah, what you don't deserve is dealing with this shit. So, c'mon, get a bag together. We'll come back for what you need later, but get something together for the weekend."

You thanked him with a kiss, and while you got your things together, Billy mutely reached out to examine the pages in his grasp. He sighed, noting the three different failing tests and knew he had to "step up" his "boyfriend game" if he truly wanted to help you; and for the first time, he knew, without any selfish motives, he honestly did. He figured, for all you've done for him, providing you with something akin to a safe environment was a drop in the bucket; shoving those tests back into your school bag, standing, and helping you gather the last of your necessities.

Who needed slutty cheerleaders in soaped-up bikinis when this, right here, was what true love was? Shockingly, not Billy Hargrove.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove stranger things #stranger things #stranger things billy #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove one shot #dacre montgomery

[a-spes]

| ALL THE THINGS I AM NOT - One shot (3.097 words).

| Summary - Since Peter Parker joined the team, things aren't the same anymore. Why does everyone seem to prefer him to you? (Inspired by that post from @th3-c0rps3-r0gu3)

| Tags & warnings - soft mom!Natasha Romanoff x adoptive daughter!Reader, former widow!R, angst with a bit of comfort, happy ending, R&Nat are insecure (they're trying their best), self-hatred, mention of past traumas, R is injuried (during a mission), mention of blood&death.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

You wouldn’t say that you hate Peter Parker. 

It is a strong word to describe your feelings, and you don’t like what it implies. You can’t hate someone who hasn’t done anything wrong to you, someone like him. He is the opposite of a bad person, so why I am feeling that way? He is nice. That’s what everyone is saying about him, and you know they are right, even if you don’t like to admit it. He always has that smile when you two are talking, answering you kindly even when you’re trying to test his limits.

It would’ve been easier to not like him if he had any defects, but he doesn’t. You’ve tried to find some, you’ve spent hours observing him, waiting for the moment he would make a fatal mistake, but the moment never came. You even started to question if he was human.

Natasha told you that humans make mistakes all the time, and that you can’t avoid them. It’s normal, she said, that’s what makes you one. You used to think you were better than that, better than everyone, but are you? When you look at the boy, you are not sure anymore.

He is everything I am not. 

You thought you were doing good, really. You made a lot of progress, and effort, since you've joined the team. Two years ago, most of them wouldn't even agree to let you out of your room. Now, you could talk normally to almost all of them.

You thought that you were doing things right with the team, but you slowly realised that your attempts are not enough anymore. You have made a lot of progress since the first time you set foot in the compound, no one will deny it, but you are not at his level yet. 

Two years ago, you wouldn’t even step out of your room during the day, barely sleeping when the night came around, and at best you would exchange wary glances with the team. You didn’t trust them nor they did, and even if you are now talking, it hasn't changed a lot. That’s something they never told you, but their eyes and actions have done it for them. These two never lie, not when you know how to interpret them.

They don’t even let you go on a mission alone, let alone attending the most important meetings. You think it is stupid because you are the most skilled of everyone here. Well, maybe it’s not true, you never managed to beat Natasha in a fight, but you are sure that you are at least as useful as them on the field. 

I am too young, just a kid. 

That’s what they call you, but the nickname doesn’t carry the same kindness as when it’s for Peter, their voices being tinged with disdain. Except when it’s from Natasha, you like it when she calls you nicknames. She doesn’t do it because she thinks you are not capable of handling yourself, but to remind you that you have time. The time to learn, to make mistakes, to grow. You both know that you will never be a normal teenager, it is too late for that, and nothing can erase the first years of your life, but the redhead is confident : you’ll learn how to live, you just need a bit of help. 

She is the only one that doesn’t seem to treat you differently, but you are not sure if she counts. You two are the same. You have been through the same things, and she is the one that brought you here, it is obvious that she wouldn’t let you go. 

She wouldn’t, right?

You don’t know. You are not sure of anything, everything seems to go backward since he joined the team. All the progress you’ve made? Gone. In a few weeks, he did better than you’ll ever be able to do, and you don’t even understand how that’s possible.

You can beat him in a fight whenever you want, no matter the conditions. Even with your eyes closed, and your hands tied behind your back, you would be able to put him down in a matter of seconds. You are fast, strong and attentive while he is clumsy, dreamy and weak. He can’t even use a gun properly, always missing his target when it’s moving, even slowly. Whenever you are looking at him, all you can see is a kid that has no idea what he's doing here but thought it would be fun. A kid that was given a toy, and thought that it made him the most important person on that earth, a hero.

I am everything he is not. 

Yet, they prefer him, so there must be something you are missing. Since he joined the team, he has created a strong bond with all the Avengers, even with Natasha. You thought your relationship with her was special, but it’s apparently not that much. You saw them laughing together, but you’ve seen worse when you witnessed the woman ruffling the boy’s hair. You are sure she would braid the boy’s hair too if it was longer. 

Well, maybe I hate him.

You have every reason to feel this way when he was stealing what’s yours, destroying what you had taken so long to build. Only, it somehow didn’t feel right. Natasha doesn’t belong to you, none of them are. They are humans, and humans have feelings, they don’t have to get along with everyone. That’s what you’ve learned from the redhead, but you only realise now that it is not only true for you ; you can’t force anyone to appreciate you. Yet, you would have liked to live up to their expectations, something the boy seems to do effortlessly.

He is always smiling, saying the right thing at the right moment, laughing with the others. Since he arrived, he has never made anyone angry, he never had one of those violent breakdowns where you would hit someone by accident. Natasha says it is not your fault, but you know that the others don’t think the same way.

Durings meals, apart from their missions, Peter Parker is the only thing they know how to talk about. Everything he does is praised. Even the things you were doing as a kid, things you’ve never been congratulated for because everyone had to know that, it was normal. Natasha said it was not, but you are not sure if you believe her yet because if it’s not, where are your praises? 

Maybe it is because they don’t expect anything from him. He is just a kid who’s learning, not a threat to be dealt with, let alone a weapon to train. No, Peter Parker is none of that. He is nothing more than a stupid kid who’s trying his best to save the city, and it’s a story you can’t bear to hear anymore. Just his name makes you feel as if your whole body is burning. It’s a feeling you can’t name, but you are sure that you don’t like it.

He is everything I am not. 

If you saved him that day, it is definitely not because you appreciate him. You even had a moment of hesitation before throwing yourself between him and that bullet, wouldn’t your life be easier if he wasn’t here? No, it wouldn’t. 

You didn’t want to take that bullet for him, especially not when this is the consequence of his own stupidity, but it was the obvious choice. You hate being sent on a mission with him because it is like going with a baby widow. You have done everything right, he has not, and yet you are the one suffering the consequences of his recklessness. 

If he had died today, it would’ve been your fault. You know it’s not true, but you can already hear them tell you that it is. That’s why you did it, because you know they value his life more than yours. It is not easy to accept that you are not the most important person on the team anymore. In fact, you have never been there since you joined the Avengers, but you believe that it was true before. 

Those people, they have powers and technology. They can do things you will never be able to achieve, no matter how hard you try. You hate that too, that feeling of failure. Yet it is not your fault if you are trapped in a competition that you can’t win. So you thought that, maybe, if you save their precious boy, then you would get the attention you wanted. 

I didn’t want to, but I did what I was supposed to. 

Except it doesn’t feel right. The Quinjet was quiet during the return journey. You didn’t even know where the boy was, and honestly couldn’t care less. You were even relieved to know that he couldn’t witness you in a moment of weakness, leaving you alone to inspect the wound left by the bullet. You told him it was nothing, but you lied, and you don’t even need to take a close look at your abdomen to know that.

However, it wasn’t the pain that was worrying you. The only thing you could think about was their reactions. Natasha told you many times that you are allowed to make mistakes, that it makes you human, not weak, but you know she is lying. You’ve already heard Fury scolding people for their mistakes, even the Avengers sometimes fought for the same reason, and you definitely don’t want to deal with that right now.

So when the Quinjet eventually lands, you go straight to your room. You were scared to step foot in the common areas in this condition because you knew your mom was waiting for you there. Maybe she had made your favourite meal, or maybe she decided to do the boy’s favourite. This time, you can’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes.

You’ve seen how she acts with the boy. She is so caring, always smiling, and her eyes are even shining. You don’t think it has ever happened when she is with you. Her expression is always tinged with sadness, perhaps pity. It is when you witness those moments that you realise that she deserves more than you will ever be able to give her : a normal kid. 

Maybe she realised it too.

Last night, she came home late, called in for a last-minute mission, and she missed your return by a few hours. She had no idea how your mission went, and even if she trusts you to handle yourself, she can’t help but feel concerned. She doesn’t like to know that you’re on a mission without her because anything can happen.

If Natasha was already worried, it is only when the following morning came that the feeling began to gnaw at her from the inside. She even started to bite her nails again. It was almost ten in the morning, and no one had seen you yet. They say that you are probably sleeping, and they might be right, but what if they are not?

She knows that some missions can be exhausting, and not only physically, what if it was one of those? You didn’t seem to be doing well lately. Despite the appearances, she noticed every little change in your behaviour, and she is sad to see you going backwards. She guessed that, maybe, you needed a little space, but she is no longer sure she made the right choice. She has the feeling that your relationship has deteriorated in recent weeks, almost as if you were avoiding her.

The redhead could no longer bear to stare at the hands of the medical bay’s clock, all she wanted to do was go, and check on you, but she couldn’t. She made a promise to the boy’s aunt. She glances at Peter who was asleep, he has been injured during the mission, nothing serious, he should be out of here the following morning. However, she promised her aunt to look after him when she couldn’t. 

She always keeps her promises.

Natasha didn’t bat an eye all night, but even if she had wanted to sleep, she wouldn’t have been able to. She couldn’t stop thinking. When the day came, she still had no idea what to do. Widows aren’t known to be good at expressing their feelings. The woman always felt awkward in her interactions with you, scared that her actions could do more harm than good. Maybe you weren’t the one that needed a bit of space. 

“How is she?” is the first thing the boy asked when he woke up that morning, but the frown on the Avenger’s face let him know that she had no idea what he was talking about. “We got a bit of a … situation during the mission” he explained, avoiding saying that his recklessness put them in danger, “we both got hurt, but it is nothing too serious”, he quickly added when he saw the expression on the redhead face changing suddenly.

The boy tried to reassure her, but it was too late. The woman barely heard him as she was rushing out of the medical bay. She was an idiot. She should’ve checked on you the moment she stepped foot on the compound, she should’ve guessed that you wouldn’t go to the medical bay on your own. You’ve always hated those places because it is where you are the most vulnerable.

It was almost eleven when she knocked at your door. She did it three times, but each of them was met with an oppressive silence. When she tried to open it, she discovered that it was locked. However, there isn’t a door in that world that can stop a widow. In less than a minute, she manages to open it, and enters the room.

She understands something is wrong when she sees your form under the covers. You would never stay in bed that late, being awake before she is most of the time. If at first she was hesitant to step in, she almost ran to your bed when you didn’t reply to her calling your name multiple times. Your sleep is so light that someone walking across the corridor is usually enough to wake you up in a flash.

She pulls back the covers without thinking twice about it, and the view she sees is definitely not what she would call “nothing serious”. The sheets are covered in blood, your blood, and you are not sleeping at all, she can see how you are struggling to keep your eyes open. She is not even sure you noticed her presence.

"Baby?" she tried to call again, but you didn’t react to the nickname either. "Baby, what happened? Talk to me, please, open your eyes", she said, kneeling by your side.

She shakes you slowly, but it has no effect. You don’t react before her hands grip your face, her nails leaving marks on your skin because of the brutality of her precipitous gesture. She is trying to open your eyelids to see your eyes when a whine escapes your lips.

You have no idea what’s happening, but don’t have the energy to ask the question. You just wish the woman would let you go back to your comfortable slumber, far from the pain, and that world of misery you were trapped in. But she doesn’t. Instead, she stole your blanket, leaving you shivering with cold, and she wouldn’t stop talking, worsening your headache.

When she takes you in her arms, being as careful as she could, she notices how cold you were. Yet, you seemed to be sweaty. She doesn’t waste more time, almost running back to the medical bay. You were hanging in her arms as a rag doll would, your head dangling painfully on the side, and the same was true for your limbs.

She held you firmly in her arms, constantly glaring at you, as if she feared you might disappear if she let her guard down. On the way, she kept mumbling things that you couldn’t understand, not knowing if those were really intended for you, or if it was a way to reassure herself. Maybe it was both.

When the woman pushed the medical bay door, she didn’t even need to yell for someone to come. The second the doctors saw you, they knew it was an emergency. 

It is only a few days after that they let you out of the medicine that was keeping you out. The first thing you felt was the pain you tried to ignore since you've been shot. A whine escapes your lips. You felt your mom close to you before you saw her. She probably didn't sleep or left or eat since you've been, no matter for how long it have been. You feel a bit guilty at the thought.

“Don’t you dare to do that ever again,” she whispered, holding you as close as she could against her chest. One of her hands rested on your back, gripping the soft fabric of your hospital gown, while the other one was stroking your hair, “you scared me to death …” she added, and you felt really stupid for not realising that she had always cared for you, and probably always with, but you were too blinded by jealousy to see it. 

“I am… sorry,” you managed to reply in a hoarse voice, “I was scared. I wanted to show you that I can be strong too,” you whispered, “I wanted to prove that I’m worth loving,” you eventually admitted, your voice being so low that, at first, the redhead wasn’t sure if she heard correctly. It broke her heart to realise that it was her fault. You didn’t need space, you needed her by your side, and now she was here, you wouldn’t let her go, holding her as you could, not minding the pain it caused in your abdomen. 

"But my little dove, you are already the strongest person I know, you don't need to prove it anymore to anyone,” she whispered, “and I will always love you, I won’t let you doubt it,” she added, letting you go to cup your jaws with her hands. She let her thumbs brushing your forehead before she kissed it, repeating the three words you were dying to hear the past weeks again, and again, and again.

You could both feel tears running down your cheeks.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Tag list - @godhatesgoodgirls

#a spes writing #mcu fanfiction #reader insert #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff comfort #angst with comfort #angst with a happy ending #one shot #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

[scientia-rex]

I've been trying to figure out what the deal is with prediabetes so I can write a meaningful response to an ask I got about it, and I just keep going wait--okay--here's one paper--but here's another one--here's a Cochrane review--but here's a different meta-analysis--and here's newer data from an RCT...

It's nuts! It's bananas. And anybody who says we have good, crisp, clear guidelines around what prediabetes even IS, much less what to do about it, is FULL OF SHIT.

What I really need to know in order to feel more confident about my handle on whether to medicate pre-diabetes is the population incidence. Not prevalence. Because if I take the most optimistic studies about medication as an intervention, specifically, I could be looking at about a 30-40% reduction in risk of progression to diabetes. But! How many people is that, actually? Because medication is not without its harms! We need to compare number needed to treat with number needed to harm, we need to have high-quality evidence that says yes, if we give this medication to everyone who meets X level of criteria for pre-diabetes (it's different in different sources AND it's changed repeatedly over our lifetime!), we will see a level of benefit sufficient to justify making these other people who would not have progressed to diabetes without it endure the hassle and side effects of taking a medication for the rest of their lives.

AND HERE'S THE REAL FUN PART: we don't really know where tissue damage begins! We thought we did! 6.5-7ish A1c. But it turns out there is a marked risk of retinopathy beginning at 5.5! Which is considered normal. AND ALSO we should probably be thinking of it as at least three separate disease based on our current ability to measure--A1c is a broad marker that collapses multiple forms of dysregulated blood sugar, and when we use more fine-grained tests, we see meaningful distinctions that probably affect preferred treatments between people who have impaired fasting glucose, people who have abnormal values on an oral glucose tolerance test, and people who have both. We should treat these groups differently because they reflect different underlying pathways: elevated fasting glucose means your liver is breaking down too much glycogen while you sleep, which is one issue, while elevated post-prandial glucose means your skeletal muscles (OR SOMETHING ELSE they're not totally sure) are behaving abnormally in response to insulin. IT'S NOT THE SAME THING and people with both impaired fasting glucose and abnormal post-prandial glucose are at higher risk of progression to diabetes/tissue damage than people with just one of those. AND WHILE WE'RE AT IT, what is diabetes? What's the best cutoff? What's the best measure? How many underlying pathophysiologies are getting collapsed into the same group????

THE MORE I LEARN ABOUT THIS THE MORE QUESTIONS I HAVE and experts are all being serenely confident while contradicting each other so I have to actually dig in the data a lot harder than I usually do. I've been meaning to do this for months, but one of the presenters this morning made a comment about the benefits of putting prediabetics on metformin that made me go "hm, do I need to start doing that?" and I've gone from my kneejerk answer being "no, we studied this and it doesn't help" to "I don't fucking know and neither does anyone else."

...as always, Cochrane is probably right.

#the attending dr. kristophine

[sunny44]

A baby here

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader

Warnings: pregnancy talks and

Summary: now it’s real, no mistakes on the ultrasound stories.

This was a request, hope it was what you imagined.

Previous Part

After that day, I kept thinking about how happy he was, believing I was pregnant even though I wasn't really. It made me more certain that he's the one I want to be the father of my children.

So, after that day, we decided that when we felt like it, we wouldn't use protection but it was all very laid-back—if it happened, great, but if not, that was fine too.

But eventually, it happened and I decided to do the same thing as last time, but this time, I made my stories visible only for him to see since I was going out again with my sister.

Yourusername Instagram stories

@charlesleclerc replied to your stories

Babe, you're posting your sister's ultrasound again 😂

I felt like responding, but I ignored it and showed it to my sister, who laughed too.

We continued shopping and I stopped in front of a baby clothing store, watching and thinking that in a few months, Charlie and I would be dressing our baby in those tiny outfits.

“Why not surprise him?” She said, stopping beside me. “He did it for you when he thought you were pregnant, so now that you are, it would be nice to put a little outfit along with the test.”

“I already have an outfit; I had a onesie made like the Ferrari overalls.”

“He'll love it.”

“I'm sure he'll only dress her in that.”

“Her?” My sister asked.

“I don't know, I have a feeling it's a girl.” I touched my belly.

“Regardless of what comes, you two will be great. But Charles was born to be a girl's dad.” I smiled at her.

“Yeah, I know.” I smiled, imagining the two of them.

“Well, I think we should go; Mike said he took Charles out of the house and they're on the boat organizing things for our day tomorrow so it's the perfect time for you and me to plan a surprise for him.”

...

We organized everything for the surprise, I made his favorite pasta, set the table with candles and prepared the little box with the surprise. When he came home, he was more excited than usual, hugging and kissing me all over my face.

“What's with all this excitement?” I asked as he looked around.

“What is all this? I'm sure I didn't forget our anniversary or anything.”

“You didn't and I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Thank you love, everything looks beautiful.”He gave me a peck. “And this excitement is because I stopped by your sister's with Mike, helped him with some things for the baby's room and got excited about when we're going to decorate ours.” I held back tears and didn't tell him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm just hungry.” He laughed.

“I'll take a quick shower and be right down, okay?” I agreed, and he rushed upstairs.

I arranged our food on the plates, lit the candles and when I finished, he was coming down.

“Hmm, you even made my favorite pasta.”

“Come on, let's eat.”

After dinner and after declining the wine, we talked a lot until I decided it was time.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Another one?” He asked as I got up.

“Yes.”

“I also have something for you.”

“Okay, do you want to go first?”

“Yes.” He took a deep breath.

“Okay.” I left the little box on the counter.

“You are the best thing that has happened in my life so far. You came into my life when I was at my worst after losing my father, and you helped me overcome and not get lost in grief. I honestly don't know what I would do without you, and I don't even want to think that this could happen someday. You are the love of my life, and I have no doubt about that.” I was already crying, and I cried more when he knelt in front of me, opened the box with a ring inside. “So, would you make me the happiest man in the world by marrying me?”

“Charlie.” I said, crying. “Of course, I'll marry you.”

He smiled, putting the ring on my finger and kissing me. He wiped the tears from my face and gave me a peck.

“What did you want to give me?” He asked after letting me go.

“Here.” I handed him the box, and he left it on the counter, opening it.

“I don't understand.” He said, taking out the Ferrari onesie from the box. “Did you want to show it to me before giving it to your sister?”

“It's not for her.” I said, taking the pregnancy test and handing it to him. “The ultrasound I posted wasn't hers; it's mine.”

“What?” He widened his eyes. “You're pregnant?”

“Yes.” And more tears streamed down my eyes, but now Charles's eyes too.

“We're having a baby?” I nodded. “We're having a baby.”

He said and hugged me tightly; I heard him sniffle and laugh with happiness, and when he let go, he kissed me.

“Did you like it? The little outfit.” He laughed.

“I loved it; it looks just like it.” He said, looking. “It will definitely be the outfit I'll put on our baby the most.”

“I'm 100% sure about that.” I smiled at him, and he folded and put the outfit back in the box.

“Can we use the guest room for the baby's room and turn the office into the new guest room, or can we move to a bigger place?” He started talking. “I heard there's a vacant apartment one floor below Max's building; we could be neighbors, and...”

“Charles, calm down; you're talking so much you're getting out of breath.” I smiled at him, and he gave me a peck. “We don't need to do anything now; we can think about it calmly.”

“I know, but I'm so excited, and I really want to buy things for the room, but we need to know where we're going to live.”

“Well, I love living here, but it's a bit small, and since we're starting a family, maybe living in a slightly bigger place would be good.”

“Well then, I'll schedule a visit to that apartment before the season starts.”

“Okay.” I smiled and gave him a peck.

“What do you think it is?” He asked, running his hand over my belly.

“I have a feeling it's a girl.”

“Well, I don't mind; whatever comes, we'll love unconditionally.” He said. “But I always saw myself as a girl's dad, so...”

“My sister said you look like a girl's dad.” He smiled.

“Well, I agree with her.” He hugged me. “How about we go upstairs and lie down?”

“I think it's a great idea.” He picked me up and took me to our room.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“This last few months have been the best ones in my life, I’m about to become Mrs. Leclerc and a mommy.”

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 #f1 instagram au #charles leclerc #charles leclerc lockscreens #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc wallpaper #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc icons #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc twitter au #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc story #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc ferrari #charles leclerc fanart #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you

[troublesomesnitch]

Phonesex with Aemond

Modern!Aemond x Reader

Modern AU - Aemond calls you after the dinner fight, and you cheer him up in the best way you can.

Contents: some quick smut. New relationship, mentions of oral sex, p in v sex and brief anal exploration (f receiving).

Warnings: brief mention of terminal illness.

Words: 3300

Thank you @arcielee for test-reading, tidying and generally helping out with this little experimental fic!

It has been six days since Aemond kissed you goodbye and shoved his skis and his snow gear and his aluminium suitcase into the back of a taxi. Six days, and you haven't heard from him since, not a single message, and no indication that he's read yours either. Six days, and the farewell kiss was just a sterile peck on the side of your mouth, because the driver was watching, and Aemond was in a foul mood already.

You suppose the thought of two weeks with one's extended family can do that to a person. And especially when one's family is as messy as Aemond's.

They're in the tabloids sometimes, Aegon with a model on his arm, Rhaenyra spotted topless in Ibiza, Viserys leaving the hospital looking more dead than alive. Old money, and every bit the stereotype too, with their luncheons and country estates and public feuds over inheritance. And the incident, of course. But Aemond never talks about that.

The family trip is solely his father's idea. Or, his father's command, really. His final wish; that they should all spend one last Christmas together at the chalet, eating venison and going cross-country skiing and whatever else rich people do on their alpine retreats. It is all very Town & Country, so far removed from anything you know. They have a coat of arms, for fucks sake, and Aemond wears it engraved on the back of his watch; on the cufflinks that sit in a velvet box atop his dresser. For special occasions, and you'd be lying if you said the thought had never crossed your mind: Aemond in coat and tie and cufflinks, yourself decked out in white and his mother's antique veil. Champagne fountain and monogrammed napkins and an article in Vogue Weddings. Double spread.

But you're getting way ahead of yourself. You have only been seeing each other for about three months, and it is still very new and foreign. Terrifying as well, and your heart leaps to your throat when your phone starts ringing and Aemond's name lights up on the screen.

Six days, and it's a quarter to midnight now, so that almost makes it seven.

"Hey," he says softly. "Did I wake you?"

"No!“ you exclaim, a little too excitedly despite your efforts to sound casual. “I was just watching something. How's St. Moritz?"

"Fine," he says, but it doesn't sound at all convincing, and there's a faint sound in the background. Like a scraping noise, and you imagine that he's picking at his cuticles; at the little chips in his nails.

"Aemond," you call, somewhat alarmed by the silence. "Is everything okay?"

The scraping gets louder before it finally stops and Aemond says sort of.

There was a fight at supper, apparently. An actual fight, with punching and shoving and everything. Straight out of Real Housewives, only even more insane, and Aemond started it, because of course he did. And all because of a stupid joke his nephew made.

"Isn't he like, fourteen?" you ask, and Aemond sighs on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," he mutters. "Something like that".

Jesus.

You are tempted to ask him why he would do such a thing, but you kind of already know. Because of his father, because of his sister, because of the incident. Because Viserys would rather dote on his grandsons than his own children, and because Aemond has chronic pains, and the prosthetic gets itchy, and he dented his car when he couldn't see how close that concrete pillar actually was.

And probably also because he doesn't hold his liquor very well.

"Aemond, you're a grown man," you begin, and your voice is kind and gentle, but you can almost hear how he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "I mean, I understand why you'd be upse - angry, but like. He's a child."

"I know," he sighs, shuffling around with something. "I shouldn't have done it.”  

There's the click of a lighter and then a deep exhale as he blows out smoke, and it reminds you of when you first met. You used to watch Aemond all the time before you worked up the courage to talk to him. He would lean so leisurely against the wall, cigarette in hand and that haughty smirk on his lips; leather jacket, black jeans, hair artfully tousled and tied back. Tall and handsome and just so fucking cool.

"Thought you quit," you tease, and it sounds a little chiding, but it isn't meant like that.

"I did," Aemond says. "I got this one from my uncle - it would have been rude to decline.”

He is quiet then, but it's a sort of contemplative silence. Like somehow you can feel there is more.

"It pisses me off," he finally says. "This whole charade - it's exhausting.”

Yes, you think. It must be. All of his family trapped under the same roof, forced to confront so many painful memories, yet act as though none of it ever happened. Smile and laugh and play house, and all so Viserys Targaryen can pretend he was a better man. Go to his grave with the comfortable illusion that he did not create the rift that tore his family apart.

If Aemond was with you right now, you would wrap your arms around him and kiss his face and his lovely hands, but all you can do at this moment is give a weak yeah, I understand.

"It has been the most miserable week," he moans. "Although - Aegon did fall off a lift today. He's fine, it was just a T-bar. But that was fun."

You giggle. "Oh, poor Aegon.”

"It was his own fault," Aemond snorts. "He had Jägerbombs for lunch. Anyway - " he clears his throat, back to the brooding mood and somber voice. "I'm sorry I called you so late. And for not being in touch. And for... everything else.”

"It's fine," you shrug. "I don't mind. But, Aemond - " you pause, thinking of how best to word the next part, "I think you should at least consider apologising to -"

"No." he cuts in. "Absolutely not.”

There's an awkward silence then, and you worry you might have overstepped your boundaries. He is so difficult to read sometimes, so elusive. You never quite know what he needs from you, sympathy, or flattery, or reassurance, or nothing at all.

You can, however, think of a way to distract him from his brooding. And maybe sex isn't the healthiest way to cope with one's issues, but still. It is miles better than beating up family members.

You twirl a lock of hair around your finger, even though he can’t see it. "What are you doing right now? Are you alone?"

“Yes,“ he says, curious. “Why?”

"What are you wearing?"

"Same thing I always wear," he responds, but then his voice turns coy and teasing, and he asks "what are you wearing?"

You look down at your fuzzy socks, your faded shorts, the worn-out knickers underneath.

"Honestly? Not anything nice."

Aemond laughs, a real laugh this time, and then he tells you just make something up.

The first thing that comes to your mind is that dress you saw the other day. Aemond would like it. He is not into extravagant lingerie and things like that, always likes it best when you are just you. Dry patches on your lips, bruises on your legs and all. Natural. 

But he is still a man though. So, not too natural.

"I'm wearing - I'm wearing a little slip. Silk, and it's the prettiest colour. It is soft to the touch," - you run a finger up your thigh, imagining it - "and it is very short. My legs are out and everything. And my tits look so good in it.”

"They always do," Aemond says, and he sounds a little husky when he asks what is underneath?

"Those panties you liked last time. With the little bows on them?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "I remember.”

"Good. Just the panties, and nothing else. And the dress is so thin - it feels like nothing when you touch it."

You lay back on top of your bed, your hand working its way down the waistband of your sleeping shorts, phone pressed to your ear. 

"I want to touch you," Aemond sighs, voice all soft and gentle. "I want to feel your body against mine.”

You blush. He is quite the romantic sometimes. Jesus, Aemond is so out of your league. You can hardly believe he'd even look in your direction, let alone kiss you and hold you and let you sleep with your head on his chest.

"Aemond" you whisper, slowly stroking your between your legs. "I'm getting all wet. All wet for you".

His breath hitches, and there's a faint oh, followed by the rustling of fabric as he palms himself over his pants. Lowering his voice and breathing touch yourself.

"I already am" you purr. "I wish it was you, though. Wish you could feel how much I want you."

Aemond says fuck, he wishes that too. You're getting him so hard. So hard just thinking about your pretty cunt.

"I'd like to suck your cock" you sigh longingly, and he immediately responds with a sharp breath that makes warmth spread in your stomach.

"Wait -" he mutters. "Hang on".

You hear the metallic clink of his belt, the sound of his zipper, and you bite your lip thinking about what he's doing. Taking his stiff cock in hand, brushing slender fingers along the shaft, running a thumb over the tip to collect the little drops that have already leaked from it. He has the prettiest cock, long and thick and veiny. Uncut, and blushing red at the tip when you slide his foreskin back. 

How you wish you could feel it in your mouth.

"Tell me how you'd do it" Aemond pleads, and there's a slight strain in his voice that suits it so well. 

"I'll start out slow," you whisper, "with just my tongue and my hand. Get your cock big and hard before I take you in my mouth. And then I'll wrap my lips around the head, and I'll press my tongue against the little slit there. And - and I’ll lick the tip of your cock until you’re begging me for more.”

He sighs, and you can hear how his hand settles into a steady rhythm, up and down over his hard cock. Filthy. 

You close your eyes and continue.

"I'd take you so deep, all the way to the back of my throat. And I would tease you - I'd be real fucking mean. I want you leaking in my mouth, all needy and desperate for me. Like, so you can barely hold it back anymore. You'd be ready to explode.”

"Don't stop - " he pants, still keeping up the stroking, pausing just briefly to spit into his hand.

"I'll edge you before I let you come. So many times, you'll be desperate for release. I want your balls so tight and heavy - all tender from how much you need to come - ”

Aemond moans, and he's stroking himself faster, tugging and tugging and filling his bedroom with damp, lewd noises. You know how he likes it; firm grip when he moves up, slack going back down, slight twist at the tip.

"And then?"

"I'd let you come in my mouth."

"No," he breathes. "I want to come inside of you.”

You give a little giggle; he always wants that. Occasionally he’ll finish all over your breasts, or in your mouth, but mostly he likes it the old fashioned way. Your bodies molded together and his cock pulsing deep inside of you. Pressing his forehead to yours or moaning into the back of neck. 

You like that too - but there are other things you might like to try as well. 

"You should come on my panties," you say coyly. "Like, inside them. And then I'd wear them all day, and just walk around with your cum between my legs.”

Aemond groans again, loudly, hoarse and strained and so fucking hot.

"You'd like that?" you tease. "I would feel it there all day. All wet and warm in my little panties. Right against my cunt."

"Fuck," he moans. "Fuck - I'd like that so much."

The sounds of his tugging get louder and faster, and you picture him laid out on his bed, cock throbbing in his hand, hips thrusting up and up into his own grip. Lone eye closed and mouth falling open. 

He lets out a soft moan, and a whine - and then the stroking abruptly stops. Close call, that one. Aemond curses, and you can hear him taking deep breaths, calming his body, halting the mounting need to ejaculate. Too soon.

“Can't wait to have you,” he mutters, and you give a quiet hum in response. 

“Please tell me how.”

He takes a slow, steadying breath.

"I want to be on top of you" he whispers, low, so no one will hear.  "Don't care if you're on your back or what, as long as you're underneath me".

"I'd be on my stomach. You can fuck me from behind".

“Yes,” he sighs. “I want to put my cock so deep inside you. I want you to feel how hard you make me. And I'll pin you down - I'll hold you in place when I take you" - his voice goes all ragged as he starts to slowly stroke his cock again - "fuck you're so beautiful when you're under me."

You mewl, and Aemond’s breath hitches.

“Yeah, and I'll fuck you slow, but hard. I want you squirming on my cock…”  he trails off, and for a moment there is only the sound of heavy breathing, his and yours. 

You had paused your own ministrations before, too focused on finding the right words, but now you begin your gentle stroking again. Underneath your knickers, fingers massaging right over your clit, so good that you let out a little whimper. 

“I love feeling you inside of me” you breathe, “I love it when you lie on top of me - ”

“Yeah?” He gasps, and you bite your lip. 

“Yeah. And I love it when you touch my - ass. Oh It feels so good when you touch me like that…”

Just saying it makes you a little flustered. You would not consider yourself very prudish, but there are some things that make you feel bashful, and this is one of them, the things he does to your backside when you’re together. And Aemond knows, and maybe that makes it even more arousing for him, the filthiness of it, the taboo. 

“How” he moans, his tone urgent and so incredibly intimate. “How do you want me to touch you -”

You have to take a very deep breath before you continue - you feel so sheepish, talking about that, but you are a woman in love, so for Aemond you’ll do your best. 

“I want you to slide your hand down my back and in between my cheeks,” you whisper, blushing all over. “It makes me so wet… feels so good when you caress me there - when you brush your fingers right over my tight little hole while you’re fucking me - maybe next time I’ll let you slip one inside…“

Aemond gives a strangled groan at that, quickening his strokes and hissing oh fuck. He is so close now, you can hear it. 

“Say my name” he begs, breathing so fast and tugging frantically on his cock. All hard and swollen now, his hips thrusting up, his balls pulling tight; oh you can imagine it so easily. 

“Aemond” you whisper. “Aemond, my love” - he moans louder, strokes harder - Aemond, I want you to fuck me, I want to feel your big, hard cock - 

Aemond chokes out a sob, and you say his name one last time as he reaches his peak. 

He holds back when he comes, muffling the helpless groans and grunts that you always love so much. But you can hear his strained sighs, his ragged breaths, and the sound is only slightly distorted through the speaker. If you close your eyes it's like he's there with you, gasping right in your ear. 

Oh you can’t wait to see him again, to get to touch him, cuddle up to him at night and run your finger down the perfect angle of his nose.

"You didn't come," Aemond says, accusingly, and you hold back a chuckle because he doesn't like it when you laugh at him. But it is as amusing as it is sweet, this need of his to do everything to perfection. Like if every time he is intimate with you isn't the BEST sex of your life, then he has failed as a lover; as a man.

“I did it on purpose” you reassure. “I'm saving it for you. All for you. Only for you.”

Aemond gives a somewhat dissatisfied hum, but he is occupied with something else now, moving around and fiddling with things. Cleaning himself up, you suppose. If only you were there to do it for him, you'd lick his cum right off his skin.

There is a loud noise in the background all of a sudden, someone knocking on Aemond’s door, and he scrambles to make himself presentable and tells you to hang on. The sounds are muffled - you assume he is covering the microphone - but you can hear another man's voice, and Aemond saying yes, I'll be right down, and then just fuck off, will you when the intruder won't take a hint.

"Sorry about that," he says awkwardly. "Aegon wants to go out. I should go with him".

You giggle at the thought - it is difficult to imagine Aemond at one of those tacky aprés-ski bars, glow stick and vodka-cranberry in hand. “Sounds fun!”

"Yeah, well, my mother would want me to,” he says sullenly. "You know, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.”

"What's the age of consent in Switzerland?" you jest, but Aemond just gives an exasperated sigh and mutters too bloody low.

You pause, unsure of what to say next, and again there's that loaded silence until he clears his throat.

"I will tell them about you. My family - I'll tell them soon. I promise.”

You can feel heat rising in your cheeks. 

Aemond purposely keeps you far away from his family, and he’ll go to great lengths to avoid running into them when you’re together. In fact he prefers not to go out at all, and you have never questioned it or complained. He’s got you hook, line and sinker - could tell you right to your face that he was embarrassed to be seen with you, and you would still be at his beck and call. 

You shrug. “It's fine. Don't worry about it. You don't have to tell them. It's fine.”

“No it isn't,” he says gravely. “You're important to me. So I should treat you as such.”

He says something else after that too, but you aren't listening, still stuck on the words you just heard. You're important to me. You're important.

It makes your heart leap with joy, and you are only pulled back to reality when Aemond calls out your name, and then sweetheart?

He doesn't call you that very often. It is always so nice when he does.

“Sorry” you blush. “I zoned out. But - I've missed you. I miss you. It's nice to hear your voice again.”

There's no way to tell, but somehow you feel like Aemond is smiling.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yours too.”

You tell him to have fun with Aegon and whatever horrid establishment they end up at, and Aemond tells you goodnight and says he'll call you as soon as he's back home. He doesn't say he misses you too, but that's okay. You know he does.

Because you're important.

#modern aemond x reader #modern aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x you

[queenofcoquette]

study like elle woods

introduction:

elle woods is one of my favorite inspirations for studying. she's stylish, confident, feminine and smart all rolled into one. plus she doesn't change for anyone- when she sets her mind to a goal she's determined and pushes herself.

@ichorsuns <3

in class:

find motivation. elle had a clear goal, she wanted to go to harvard. and when she had that goal that was what she focused on and put her energy towards. to be motivated you need to know WHY you're working so hard and what you're trying to achieve.

take cute notes. not even sure if this is really an elle thin but just make note taking fun! make it look cute

dress up. ofc u don't have to dress up super fancy for class but ik that personally i enjoy wearing cute clothes and doing my hair for school. it's just fun :)

studying:

make cute flashcards. flashcards are really effective for studying, and also they're kinda fun to make.

review with a highlighter. get a pink highlighter to go over what you need to review. idk its just a cute color.

put studying into your routine. even if you have to switch locations up or study while working out, just make sure that you get time to study a little everyday.

overall mindset:

stay focused on your goals. when elle decided she wanted to go to harvard she was serious about it. she spent months studying for law school admission test!

study a little everyday. like i said earlier, spend about 15-20 minutes (whatever works for you) to review what you learned in class everyday. even if you don't have an upcoming test or quiz it's always good to do regula studying.

make meaningful conections. the best way to get information into your long term memory is connecting what your studying into your own life. i know that in the courtroom elle uses her knowledge of perm maintenance.

ignoring what people say. so many ppl thought elle was dumb and in my own life fake friends from my old school laughed & made jokes when they found out i'd gotten into ap chem at my current school. it's so easy to feed into this negativity and get caught up on other people think about you, but put your energy towards what is productive and healthy. you don't need to prove yourself to anyone because ultimately there will be people who doubt you no matter what you do.

conclusion:

overall you just need to have a goal and be determined to be like elle, while also staying true to who you are. embarrasment and failure is always on the path to success- so keep your head up and keep working hard even when things go against you. :)

#elle woods #legally blonde #that girl #that girl 2023 #coquette #it girl #healthy habits #studyblr #study motivation #study aesthetic #self improvement #queenofcoquette

[evilminji]

Okay, But, >.> Listen...

So MAYBE, just MAYBE, I am an incureable RoFan Isekai nerd. Shut up about it, maybe. What're you a cop? Mind your business. BUT! And hear me out...

W...What would actually? HAPPEN if Danny went into a Visual Novel? Some Otome game? You know, aside from being vague flustered by and then DEEPLY ALARMED by these walking Red Flag Fruitloops that girls are supposed to find "dreamy" or something?

Like we know how MMOs work for him. And probably OTHER open world games? But a visual novel? Would it be like the Christmas Episode? Would he hear narration? Be stuck in static "scenes"? Or would it be like a cut together "only the interesting parts" movie that he's somehow IN?

Like?? At SOME point his curiosity is gonna get the best of him. He's gonna want to know what different video games are LIKE on the inside? What's Pong like? Tetris? Mario? One of those Mama's cooking games? Etc etc.

He probably hits up a game sale. Buys a box or two. Figures he can always resell um or just give them away for free. Might even use them for parts. Who knows. And?

It's kinda cool!

It's even SCIENCE! See? Tucker's in charge of notes. Sam's in charge of hilarious commentary and pizza. Jazz is keeping them from drinking and doing ghost shit (terrible combination, we never speak of What Happened(tm) again). And the Dr's. Fenton got distracted by making fudge and debating what games should be counted towards which categories.

They've made an afternoon of it.

And NOW? They've reached the bottom of box one. It was "Survive The Villainess! My Rose for You!" Or... judging by Sam's climbing eyebrows and growing scowl? A DEEPLY unpleasant porn game about school girls.

You could not PAY him enough.

Yeah, he DOES realistically kinda want to know what happens.. if.. like? You know... sexy games... like would he? Or does he just WATCH or...? *awkward cough* But! That's NOT for Family Science Night! And DEFINITELY not THAT game, THANKS.

He'll find himself an ETHICALLY SOURCED smutty game full of consensual boning. For PRIVATE TIME. Those test results are gonna show up like MAGIC and we WILL NOT be talking about them! Got it? Good.

Now what the fuck is he look at here?

Jazz is surprisingly knowledgeable. They are not allowed to ask. They respect it. The main character "wakes up" inside the body of a "villainess" and must survive. Turn her terrible reputation around. Avoid "death flags". Preferably romance one of the hot guys?

Uuuuuuuh... you realize Danny's in a committed relationship, right?

Sam and Turker allow it. But they reserve the right to blast his taste in Fantasy Guy's. Chose carefully, for their roasting shall be BRUTAL. Luuuuuv yoooou~♡

He wants a divorce. They're not even MARRIED and he wants a divorce. You see how they mock him, Jazz? The cruelty he suffers? He's taking the Blobs and moving to Frightknight's. They always warned him about you living folks and your fast ways, but he didn't listen! *continued dramatics* *is smacked with a pillow*

But actually going IN? The weirdly, vaguely European over the top EVERYTHING? Giant jewels and ridiculous, fancy dresses? The walking red flag Romantic Archtype Leads? He wants to PUNCH half these guys! This is ABUSE! Are people OKAY!?

Like? I feel like he'd stay way, WAY longer then he needed too? Just out of morbid curiosity? W-where is this plot GOING? It's so dramatic. Why is my dress MORE dramatic now? Why is everything so... Sparkly.

It would be? AMAZING and baffling and I would pay real money to hear their live commentary. "Why not simply judo flip the crown prince off the balcony, then take over the country, sweetie?" "Solid plan, honey! He deserves it!" Beautiful. Flawless. Sage advice really. Too bad Danny can barely walk in his five million bows dress.

It's the BEST Au and I might be a genius. Or deeply sleep deprived. Meh. We'll 50/50 it, six of one, half a dozen of another.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #RoFan #Family Science Night #is an excuse to fuck around and eat pizza #but if you write notes #its technically SCIENCE now! #this week #danny brought GAMES #game testing Au #RoFan games #otome games and ghost powers au #dp x dc #dc x dp

[heartfullofleeches]

Sooo uh is it too early to ask for nsfw hcs of carnis?

(I think enough time has passed... Mainly because I've finally got enough written)

Carnis - Yan Lab Experiment NSFW Hcs

• As mentioned in previous posts, Carnis has yet to experience a lot in the human world - sexual urges being yet another. As their bond with Reader grows that starts to change. Their body feels.. strange when their caretaker does certain things. Calls them cute pet names, strokes their ears or face - even just a smile gets their stomach twisted into knots and tension between their legs. It feels good to touch that area, but so wrong to them at the same time. They've always been told their body is just a tool for others - they shouldn't get to feel this way, especially when all they can think about is Reader's hands in place of theirs. It's dirty - wrong, but it feels so good.

They start to wonder if Reader has these same desire. The thought of helping them through it makes them happy.

• Carnis priorities your satisfaction over all, and more importantly theirs. They feel as though they aren't worth the effort and sees your pleasure as their own. With how inexperienced they are, you'll have to teach them a thing or two, but Carnis is willing to do whatever they can to make you happy. Their preferred method is laying back in bed and allowing you to ride their tongue/cock to your heart's content. They like if you use their mouth more since they wouldn't be able to last long inside you and feels guilty if they finish before you.

• Huge oral fixation + very touchy/clingy, but afraid to do both. Wants to touch and lick all over you, but restrains themselves unless given the command. Could spend hours with their head between your legs and still want for longer. If you give them permission to touch you, Carnis' hands will not leave your body. Gropes at your chest, thighs, and whatever you'll allow. Develops a habit of doing this in their sleep which they'll be none the wiser to unless mentioned. You'll know when they're about to cum when they lock fingers with yours or push through their anxiousness to kiss you without asking first.

This fixation works in reverse as well. Despite their years of testing, Carnis' body is very sensitive to certain touches. Kissing on their neck, chest or thighs makes them putty in your hands. Their nipples are especially tender and gripping their horns while they're going down on you will make them see stars. Liked being bitten whether it's enough to draw blood or just a little love bite. Avoids looking in mirrors if you leave hickies because the sight alone gets them aroused.

• Becomes increasingly vocal as they get more comfortable in bed. At first it's tiny whimpers and pants for more, but as they get used to things and you they can't keep their mouth shut. Begs to be touched more, for you to never leave them. Declares their love for you until their voice is raw. If your walls are thin might be best to invest in some sound proofing if you don't want noise complaints from neighbors.

• Sucker for praise and affection. Just wants to be your good boy/pet and to know you really mean it when you say it. Head pats, cutesy pet names, maybe a pretty collar or outfit if you're feeling generous. Carnis would wear anything you threw at them if you said they looked absolutely adorable in it.

• Another way Carnis gets over their aversion to self pleasure is by cumming in the meals they make for you. Long as it can benefit you, Carnis push through most things even the self hatred and guilt of watching you undress or sniffing your clothes and touching themselves because of it. If you mention the food being good, it'll clear them of all negative thoughts towards masturbating and lead to more dishes made with the same special ingredient. Cums on your pillows or clothes as a way to mark you as theirs, but only when they're about to wash them afterwards.

• If you have a dildo/fleshlight they will throw it out unless you use it on them. They're the only toy you need.

• Always looking for new things to try online. Drags you over to the computer to get your approval before buying a new collar or to show you a new position they'd like to try. Missionary is their favorite because they like seeing your face, but they're always open to try other things for you.

• Cuddling/Aftercare is a must. Carnis enjoys a nice bath and snuggling into bed with you, but just laying in your arms straight after is fine with them too. Run your fingers through their hair or just speak softly to them and they'll be out like a light. Thanks you for staying with them and allowing them to love you every minute before they fall asleep. Hugs you tighter if you so much as breath differently and will not let go until they wake up.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere insert #yandere blurb #Carnis my oc #yandere teratophilia #yandere smut #tw yandere #yandere hybrid

[ladykailitha]

If I were to do a A/B/O story with Steddie this is how I would do it (I've never done omega-verse for any of my fandoms, but damn there is something about Steddie that just screams it, you know?)

Steve was sold to a place that uses infertile omegas as sex toys. Rut servicing, gang bangs, orgies, or even just pretty arm candy for special events. The point is that the Harringtons sold him when they found out he couldn't be sold to the wealthiest, most influential alphas as a broodmare.

They are pretty much indentured and have to pay off the debt of how much the company paid for them. Steve pays off his debt and stays. Most omegas leave, but he loves what he does. He really loves rut servicing. It's his favorite because he has all the control during the three to four days the alpha is sex crazed. He also loves that he can take care of them without them thinking he's in for the bond bite.

Steve's at some gala or event or whatever on the arm of an older alpha, probably a senator or someone important like that when he meets Eddie Munson, frontman for Corroded Coffin.

They're introduced and they hit off, until Steve mentions offhand that he's infertile. Because that angers Eddie for some reason.

Eddie sets up Steve to be his rut servicer and demands that Steve be placed on some kind of birth control. It's a strange request, but it's granted.

When Steve arrives, Eddie tells him under no uncertain terms that either of them are going to be barebacking. Condoms are required.

This pisses Steve off. He's infertile and these demands are just ridiculous. He can't get pregnant.

Eddie scoffs. If he was infertile it would reflect in his scent. It would be sickly sweet, like overripe fruit. Cloying almost. But Steve doesn't smell like that. He smells darker, woodier, more like spices then fruity.

Steve frowns, he hadn't heard that about omegas, but it made sense, his other co-workers did have that sweet smell, but never really thought about it being different than his own.

But before they could talk it out, Eddie goes into his rut hard. Harder then it's ever been and Steve is pretty much scrambling to keep up with the sex.

At the end of the five days, Steve is worn out and ready to pass out for the next week, but he needs to know what Eddie was talking about.

Eddie tells him that he's not infertile, he's an ultra-fertile omega. So rare that they present in only 1% of the human population as a whole. Red-heads are more common they are.

Basically they are only fertile during their heats, but instead of having only a 1 in 5 chance of getting pregnant like omegas do in heat (1 in 8 out of heat), they can get pregnant 4 in 5 chance of getting pregnant. In fact, they are so revered that they can have their pick of the best alphas in their country. Some of them even go so far as casting their net over the whole fucking world.

Steve isn't sure he believes him, but his parents never tested for it because it was too rare. So it's possible that he could be, it's not like he can test it now. The test needs to be done at the time he presented. The only way to know for sure is if he shared a heat with an alpha (he's not allowed to as service omega to spend it with anything but toys) and he doesn't know of any alpha willing to take the chance that he might be some golden omega.

Only Eddie is totally willing. Willing to even bond Steve, with or without the ultra-fertility.

Steve is shocked. He's even more shocked when he goes into heat just from being so close to Eddie. Because he's on blockers, that's not supposed to happen.

While Steve is still cognizant he consents to Eddie helping him through the heat, suddenly grateful for the condom and birth control stipulation is suddenly very welcome.

It's only a light one that lasts a couple of days, but it's the best he's ever had. The first he's ever shared with an alpha. And he loved it.

He found out that in order to share Steve's heat, Eddie had to pay a lot of money for the privilege so he just bought Steve's contract as a whole. The one he made because he brought in so much money to the company.

They talk about bonding and sharing Steve real heat. The reason Eddie was so insistent on the contraception measures is that his scent had been known to break blockers in the past.

Which makes sense, some alphas just have that strong a scent. It's not a thing like an ultra-omega, but just something that could happen. The company tended to screen those types of alphas and made sure that the omega would be safely whisked away. It just never happened to Steve before.

Eddie courts Steve properly and they bond. And sure enough Eddie was right Steve gets pregnant, and suddenly Steve's parents are banging on the door demanding they be compensated for the fact that he's an ultra-omega and could have been sold for lots, lots more money then the company gave them.

But Steve tells them to fuck off and slams the door in their faces. And Steve and Eddie live happily ever after with their growing family.

First chapter of the full story here.

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #a/b/o verse #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #sex worker steve #rockstar eddie munson