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trollprincess · 1 month ago

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So I have a friend from high school who is a cop. (Yes, I KNOW.) I shared a photo on Facebook of a packed highway of people attempting to evacuate from Hurricane Milton, all while the lanes going in the opposite direction were open and empty. And my Facebook post was basically me screaming, “Open the other side of the highway and reverse it so that people can GET OUT.”

His response was essentially, “Yeah, that is *really* difficult for us to do.” Not in a condescending way, because he genuinely isn’t a huge asshole. (Yes, I KNOW.)

And then I may have vented in my response, in which I tried not to imply that the police were a problem. Because to be honest, I don’t see this as a police problem. I see this as how we have fucked ourselves as a nation by making ourselves so dependent on cars.

There is that poll on this site – or multiple polls, at this point – asking how long people can tolerate being in their cars. And the thing is, Americans (and Canadians as well, I am imagining) have almost no other options. We have to be used to spending a good 12 hours in a car without breaking a sweat. Everything in this country is built around being in a car. There’s a reason when you ask us how far away a place is from somewhere else, we normally give that distance in hours and not miles.

Air travel sucks. It sucks for a multitude of reasons – cost, the hassle of dealing with security, the time suck, etc. – and in an emergency, only a select few are going to be able to use it to get away from a hurricane. And that’s one of the few disasters where air travel is an optional escape.

Train travel sucks. Amtrak is not something you’re gonna be complaining about if you’re trying to get away from whatever disaster you need to evacuate from. But next to so many other countries, Amtrak looks like we’ve been receiving other countries’s leftover railway systems from the 70s. It also doesn’t go everywhere. I live in northeastern Pennsylvania near Scranton, which prides itself on its history in the train industry. We have a museum and everything. We have multiple things named after that museum, including the Steamtown marathon which is happening tomorrow.

Can you get on a passenger train in Scranton? Nope.

(The main argument against this always seems to be that people will come here from New York City and commit crimes, which is hilarious considering if somebody wanted to come here from New York City and commit crimes it’s only a 2.5-hour drive.)

Anyway, disasters.

If the only option you’re gonna give most people to get out of areas of Florida that are being targeted by hurricanes or areas of California that suffer from wildfires or places in the Midwest that face flooding are cars, then we need a better fucking emergency management system regarding transportation in this country. You can’t just sit there and mock people for not evacuating because they can’t or won’t when getting away from Milton meant sitting on highway for hours with absolutely no gas stations whatsoever nearby having any gas at all. (It just makes me think of those photos of people stranded on the highway in their cars in blizzards where people are like, “Now imagine imagine how bad it would be if all of those cars were electric!“ Well, all of those cars in that photo in that blizzard run on gas and they’re fucking stranded, sooooooo.)

Look, we can change the transportation system in this country. we did it before and we can do it again. We used to have more train options, fewer highways. My small hometown had a fucking trolley in the 40s. Now, if you don’t have a car here, you’re stuck. You can’t even get Uber here. if a wildfire started here and surrounded the town, it would be a clusterfuck.

Regardless of how you feel about the police, if police and fire departments in this country cannot organize an evacuation on a highway in a way that will reduce the backup so that tens of thousands of people aren’t sitting in their cars when a hurricane hits, that’s a problem – not just for those people, but for the police, and the fire department, and emergency management in general.

The people in charge of emergency management are just people, just human. I’m researching the Camp Fire in 2018 right now, and you had a bunch of people calling 911 saying, “I can see a huge fire off to the east. Are we safe? Should we evacuate?” The 911 operators could only work off the information they had. They could have told people to evacuate earlier, but Cal Fire didn’t anticipate the strength of the fire. Which is understandable. Nobody could anticipate the strength of that fire. But the 911 operators were sitting in an office with no windows, and they had no idea what was going on the east. They couldn’t look out and see exactly what was happening. If they could have, they probably would have told people to leave as soon as possible much sooner than they were told to. Instead, they waited for official confirmation, and when they did start telling people to evacuate, traffic managed to back up in a small town of 25,000 people until many of them were trapped in an unimaginable hellscape.

When people need to evacuate from a disaster, and they stay instead, far too many people - including those in positions of power – just kind of wave their hands and say, “Well, we tried.” No, we didn’t. This country made not trying its watchword, and now we’re at a point where unless you own a car, which is a luxury a lot of people cannot afford in this economy, escaping from disaster is impossible. So you can get in your car or somebody else’s car and go sit on a highway and hope your gas doesn’t run out, since none of the gas stations for 100 miles have any gas to give you, or you can stay in your house and hope you don’t die.

Sometimes, I really wish somebody would make me the head of the department of transportation. I would demand an absurd amount of money to build a better train system, to provide better transportation options for smaller towns, to provide extensive training for rescue personnel in managing evacuations like the clusterfuck in Florida this week. I would become an absolute fucking nuisance to Congress. I would be asking for money left and right to make it so that our only options as Americans weren’t to get into cars we can barely afford these days and attempt to organize our own evacuations from the growing number of natural disasters in this country.

Y’all keep posting these polls about how long you can tolerate being in a car at the same time that tens of thousands of Floridians were sitting on highways trying to get away from Tampa so they wouldn’t die in a hurricane.

We can tolerate being in a car all goddamn day. It’s because we don’t have a fucking choice, even when it’s life or death.

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moonstruckme · 26 days ago

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vampire!james is such a fun concept!

what about if reader was a newly turned vampire too and James lets her feed on him

like the scene with elena feeding on damon in TVD?

because blood sharing is intimate :P

Hi lovely! I don’t really remember what this was like in TVD because I last watched that show probably 10 years ago and I don’t think I finished it but hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking, thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, feels mature at times but no smut (vampires are just hot idk)

vampire!James x fledgling!reader ♡ 1k words

James hates seeing you like this. He remembers what it feels like—being aware for the first time of every nerve ending in your body, your mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, everything worse and louder and so much more than it had felt when you were human.

He’d warned you the transition would be like this, but you’d wanted it anyway. You keep trying to act like you’re alright even now, trembling from head to toe in the corner of the bed, eyes darting towards every sound and movement like your body thinks you’re under attack. The three bags of blood you’d gotten from the butcher lie empty on the floor. Normally James only needs one every few days, but this is one thing he’d forgotten about the transition, he supposes. The hunger is intense. He won’t be able to get you more for at least a few hours.

“Sweetheart,” James says softly. You still flinch as though he’s shouted. “You should try to go to sleep. It’ll help with the cravings.”

“I don’t think I can.” Your lisp is sort of cute. You haven’t been able to retract your fangs yet, have pricked your own lip more than once. “I can hear so many hearts. They’re loud.”

James nods. He’s learned to tune them out, like the hum of electricity or the rush of wind outside, but he knows what you mean. If he focuses, he can listen to the beating heart of the bird nesting in the tree by your window, the neighbor’s cat, the woman who lives at the end of your street. Sometimes they seem synchronized together, the unceasing, steady beat of life in the world. It gets louder when he’s starving.

“The butcher won’t be open until morning,” he tells you, though you know already. You nod, wrapping your arms around your legs. “But I can try to help, if you want. You could try feeding from me.”

It’s an idea James has been toying with since you said you wanted to turn. He doesn’t think you could survive off each other forever—he’s not sure if he still makes new blood, if his body works that way anymore—but he doesn’t have need for his blood the way a human does. Maybe he could sate you for a bit.

You give him a look of wary surprise, but James knows how you feel well enough to recognize the hope behind it. Any chance of feeding will sound good to you right now.

“Can we do that?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But I don’t think it’ll hurt to try. Might taste a bit stale, though.”

It’s a lame joke, and you don’t laugh. Your trembling worsens, your restraint barely holding out against your cravings. Your voice is small. “I don’t know if I can be gentle. I feel…weird.”

James offers you a smile. “I know, honey. It’s okay. Can I touch you?”

You nod. James is careful about it, not wanting to overstimulate your sensitive nerves. He takes your hands in his, slowly guiding you onto his lap.

“You’re alright,” he promises. “Let me help.”

Your brows crease, and your lip starts bleeding again when you prick it with your fang. James gently thumbs the droplet away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, scared.

“I’ll be fine.” He looks you in the eyes, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks calmingly. “You did it for me, right? That wasn’t so bad. Just…” James palms the back of your head, bringing it to the crook of his neck like an embrace. “Take what you need.”

James doesn’t have a heartbeat for you to hear, but that doesn’t matter; once you’re close you can’t restrain yourself anymore. You bite into his neck eagerly.

It feels like you described. Part of James worried that you were stretching the truth, trying to make him feel better, but the places where your mouth connects to his skin are suddenly the center of James’ universe. He can feel his blood rushing to meet you, to sate you, fill you up and be everything you need. Your low moan vibrates against his skin, and James laughs, dizzy and drunk on you.

One of your hands fists in his hair, pulling his head further to the side. He bears his neck to you readily. He hopes you glut yourself on him, stay here with him, keep your mouth suctioned to his skin until you both die whatever deaths immortals can.

He feels a bead of wet roll down his chest. You make a soft, thoughtless sound in the back of your throat, leaving his neck to chase it. Your tongue licks a stripe up James’ left pectoral.

He blinks slowly as you wipe your mouth, breathing hard. It feels like waking up from a dream. You have blood smeared around your mouth and nearly dripping from your chin. You look embarrassed as you catch it with your fingers and lick them clean.

“Sorry,” you say.

“It’s okay.” James smiles at you. He still feels slightly doped up, but it’s also sweet to see you like this, pupils still blown from the taste of him and shy about it at the same time. “You were right, that was nice.”

One side of your mouth tilts up tentatively. “I didn’t hurt you? You were so controlled when you fed from me.”

“That’s not your fault, honey, you can’t be controlled this early on.” James kisses you, pleased to find your fangs are starting to retract. “It’s not possible. But no, it didn’t hurt.”

Your smile blooms with relief. “You didn’t taste stale,” you reassure him. “You sort of tasted like yourself, if that makes sense.”

He nods. You’d tasted like yourself, too, all sticky sweet and addicting.

You let your breath out in a whoosh, sagging in his hold. “I’m…god, how do you manage to walk home after this? I’m so tired.”

“It gets easier with time,” James reassures you. He pets the back of your head, turning you both around so his back rests against the headboard of your bed. “You can sleep, though. We’ll clean you up tomorrow.”

There are no arguments from you. You’re fading fast, head falling naturally back into the curve of his neck.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I wasn’t as nice about it as you were with me.”

“Sure you were, sweetheart. You’re always nice, I don’t think you can help it.”

“Yeah, well.” You turn your head slightly to mush a kiss over the puncture marks you’ve left him. “Thanks.”

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if-loves · 2 months ago

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once upon a dream

// Yandere Capitano

sum: you haunt his existence. now, he wishes to repent.

wc: 1473

warnings: 5.1 story quest spoilers (mostly capitano lore spoilers), probably OOC capitano

a/n: i need capitano in a way that concerns my sanity / sorry for not posting in a hot second lmao have capitano as compensation

likes & reblogs are appreciated :)

Capitano would know you blind, deaf, and devoid of sense. He would know you by the way you breathe, the way you walk, and most of all, your soul.

He first met you five hundred years ago, upon the fall of Khaenri’ah, when he and his platoon fled to Natlan. You, a Master of the Night-Wind, who joined your chief in aiding what most could only assume were the enemies, with nothing but kindness and understanding in all your actions and words. Never once had you treated him or his men as lesser than, as burdens, but instead as one of your own.

He had never been the kind of person that sought for love, for he knew of the foolishness it brought far too often. He prioritised his duty to the kingdom, for its continued survival and prosperity, all until it fell to the hands of Celestia and its gods. Grief and regret often grappled his heart, but even so, he trudged forwards, for if not forwards, where else could he go?

When you touched his wounds for the first time, a gentle smile on your face, reassuring him that all will be alright, he felt as though he had transcended beyond the mortal realm and met an angel. You bandaged his wounds carefully and always offered a warm smile no matter the situation, always chastising him to have a little more regard for his own body, to which he would merely chuckle in reply.

When Ayizu had passed, grief once again racked his being, but he still felt grounded knowing you lived. He had yet to come to terms with his ever-growing feelings let alone your imminent death, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if you were to die.

He quickly found out that he’d be wracked with grief and sorrow like never before, mourning the loss of you and what could have been, on his knees in the pouring rain cradling your lifeless body. You, who had died long before he even had the sliver of a chance to come to your aid, like you had to him.

Upon watching your tribesmen bury you, Capitano was left to ponder a question. What is the use of his strength, if he cannot even use it to protect those dear to him?

He swears that the first few nights after your passing were the worst he’s ever had in his entire life. He dreams of you, in all of your smiles and gentleness, crying for help as you’re ripped to shreds by abyssal monsters, staring at him with betrayal in your beautiful eyes, as he is unable to do anything except watch, an unwilling witness to your death. He then awakens, breathing heavily yet somehow barely breathing at the same time, drenched in sweat and regret.

He often wonders what your last thoughts were. Were they regretful, or were they full of fear? Or were they hopeful, believing he’d come just in time to save you? He hopes they weren’t. He hopes you didn’t die hopeful, waiting on a hero that could never exist.

Capitano remembers wandering for a long while before being recruited by Pierro, before being given his new identity. He swore many things by the Tsaritsa’s name, but the one he remembers most clearly is the one where he promises to make Natlan, make Teyvat, a safe place for you to exist freely without fear of war or death.

Capitano thinks he’s going insane. He has started seeing, hallucinating, you in his subordinates. The glimpses are brief, and had he been a second too late, he would’ve completely missed you - but he’d know you just by your existence, and he’s certain that even if you were thousands of miles away from him, he’d feel you in the depths of his soul.

He’s desperate to see you again, in front of him. He desires nothing more than to feel the warmth of your skin against his own once more, to hear your heartbeat and confirm to himself that you’re alive again, so that he may right his wrongs and ensure your safety and your happiness in a way he couldn’t before. He is a powerful man now, not like when he first met you; he can give you the world.

His search is to no avail, and it is once again as though you had never existed. He’s almost on the verge of flipping through recruit profiles, until he hears of a group sent away to Liyue, and your name is mentioned. But of course, he is too late. You died, saving your comrades.

He is left to mourn you once again.

The third time he sees you, he wonders if it’s a form of divine punishment. Is it because he’s Khaenrian that he must suffer this cruel fate? The destruction of his homeland, the curse of immortality, the deterioration of the nation that once protected him, the death of those he holds dear… He wonders when will be enough, how much repentance it will take for Celestia to finally cleanse him of his sin. But he has long stopped asking, because he knows the answer better than most.

He sees you many more times, both in reality and in his dreams. Each and every time, he is a second too late, one step away from saving you, from getting you back. And each and every time, he can see you, staring at him with betrayal in the eyes he so dearly adores.

Even so, he doubts he truly wants to see you anymore. His strength is a husk of its former glory, his flesh long rotted. He is perhaps the furthest thing from a human, more akin to an abyssal monster, and he fears that should you meet once more, you’d only stare at him in disgust or, worse yet, fear. He doesn’t think he can handle it.

Capitano had long lost count of how many times he’s encountered you, but for this particular kind, he knows for a fact that it’s the first of its kind.

You stare up at him, confusion in the eyes he so adores, and he wishes for nothing more than to embrace you and listen to the steady beating of your heart. Unfortunately, he is surrounded by his subordinates, and he has a reputation to uphold. Instead, he takes your hand as gently as he can, trying to recall how you treated him before.

“You must come with me.” Is all he offers, before he drags you all the way to Snezhnaya, forsaking his own duties all for you.

He keeps you close to him the entire journey, never allowing you out of his sight for even a second. He wouldn’t allow it, not when that was all it took to lose you. You’re offered no explanation even as you demand for one, violently thrashing in his hold. It pains him to see you like this, and so he forces you to sleep.

At the end of the journey lies an old but sturdy mansion, gifted to him by the Tsaritsa upon his oath to her and the Fatui. It is kept in pristine condition with servants at every corner, busying themselves with tidying the already tidy home. The only sound is the wind beating at the windows harshly.

He brings you to a room, void of any sort of decoration, and chains you to the bed. It is then you realise that the windows have grills, separate from the glass, and the door has a lock on the outside. He, although his actions so cruel, treats you as gently as a monster can afford, and it makes you confused.

“What am I to you?” You question, staring into the darkness of his mask. In the dim room, you can faintly see the glow of blue.

“Everything.” He replies without hesitation, not even a second later than your question. He sounds as though he’s been waiting a very, very long time for this question.

“I do not know you.”

“But I know you.”

He walks closer and closer, until he stands in front of you. Silently, he kneels, head lowered as if in reverence.

“I’d know you blind, deaf, on the verge of death. I’d know you by the way you breathe, walk, smile. I’d know you no matter your appearance, because I know your soul.” He takes one of your chained hands in his gloved ones, bringing the back of it into the abyss of his helmet. You feel a faint kiss by lips chapped and skin rotting.

“It’s okay if you hate me, resent me.” He murmurs, unwilling to let go of your hand. “It’s okay if you wish me dead. As long as you’re alive, I could want for nothing more.”

If only beings like him died so easily.

like my work? consider donating a ko-fi!

#yandere #yandere x reader #capitano #yandere capitano #yandere capitano x reader #capitano x reader #genshin impact #yandere fatui harbingers #yandere fatui harbingers x reader

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plushipaws · 1 year ago

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“Dragon, I am not sure that I am a prince.”

“Of course not, you are my beloved pet.” “No, I mean… gender-wise.”

“Oh. Are you a princess?”

“No, I don’t think so.” “Alright, dear. Then, what are you?” “I think- well I’m not sure I am allowed.”

“You can be anything you want to be, my darling.”

“Well- and please don’t laugh- I think I’d like to be a dragon. … Like you.”

The dragon purred and wrapped its long neck around the smaller being and nuzzled its nose on their head. “Then a dragon you are, my love.”

“But I’m worried I’m not qualified to be a dragon. I don’t have scales or wings.”

“Dragons come in all sorts of kinds. Many are scaleless or wingless.”

“And I’m rather small and weak for a dragon…” They sighed. “I mean, I am already fairly small and weak for a human.”

The dragon studied the being who was now a smaller dragon for a long time before speaking rather gently. “I am rather small and weak for a dragon too you know… It is something I never told you, and you couldn’t know because you have none other to compare me to.” “What? But you’re so big and strong! You fly ten miles a day to hunt for us and you defend me from nosey knights who try to ‘rescue’ me!”

The dragon nodded. “Yes, but other dragons can fly for a thousand miles a day and hunt for an army, and they could fight off an army too. After fighting a single knight I become quite tired… This is why I live alone in this cave, away from other dragons. They harass me for my weakness, and try to push me to do more… they say what I am is not enough.” With this, the dragon lowered it’s head, seeming to feel ashamed.

The smaller, human shaped dragon kissed the larger one on the snout. “Well, you are certainly enough for me. You might not be able to fight or feed an army, but your hunts keep us both full and your claws keep us both safe. And I always look forward to curling up under your wings at the end of the day. You don’t have to be alone anymore.” They frowned, their brow furrowing. “It makes me angry how you were treated.”

“It makes me angry how you were treated! That is what drew me to rescue you. I could see your society was treating you the same as mine was… Pushing you to do too much when you were tired, not appreciating you for who you are… but I appreciate you. You always know how to make me laugh, and all your little faces are so cute. I always look forward to feeling you press against my sides at the end of the day.” It nuzzled them. “You are dragon enough for me, better than any other dragon I have met. You are enough.”

The smaller dragon nodded. “We are our own sort of dragons. And that is enough.”

#otherkin #trans #disability #chronic fatigue #flash fiction #dragonkin #fantasy #my art #my writing #xenogender

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rederiswrites · 7 months ago

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You can train your tastes. You can choose what you see beauty in.

Lemme go further, actually. You are constantly doing so--or letting others do it for you.

Nearly two decades ago, when we were planning our wedding, I made a very firm decision not to look at any wedding planning magazines or anything with marketing material for wedding products. I wanted our wedding to be uniquely us, and I also wanted not to be bombarded by product advertisement and beautiful photo shoots of very expensive weddings. Consequently, maybe we wasted a little bit of time reinventing the wheel, but we had a wedding we were very happy with that only cost perhaps four thousand dollars at most, probably not that much, spread out over our finances and those of both our families. Our guests went home with live potted plants that we'd paid pennies for at end of season, our florist had a great time getting to design a bouquet that tested her skills because I didn't have any preconceived ideas, my dress was utterly unique--and I really do feel that those magazines would have had a corrosive effect on all that.

When we moved to this property three years ago, I spent a LOT of time looking at images online, trying to form a coherent vision for a property that was at the time a fairly blank slate. I found myself scrolling through a lot of Russian dacha Instagrams, of all things, and they unlocked something for me. Seeing the same homey make-do decorations and techniques I grew up around a continent away, the same plywood cutout old ladies and tractor tire flower planters, somehow chewed through that last binding cord of classism, and suddenly I saw the art in it. The expression of a desire to embellish and beautify, even when you have very little, even when all you can afford is things the more well-to-do consider trash. I saw the exuberance of human love for beauty in a brilliant flower bed planted next to a collapsing shed--it didn't need to be perfect to be worthwhile. They didn't wait til everything was pristine to start enjoying things. And now I earnestly and unironically covet my own version of the tractor-tire Christmas tree at the farm down the road.

We've spent centuries now idolizing the manicured estates and quaint country retreats of the European wealthy elites. We've turned thousands of miles of living ecosystem into grass deserts in service of this vision. We need to start deliberately retraining our tastes. Seek out images of a different idea of beauty and peace. I'm not telling you what it'll be. I'm telling you this is not involuntary. You can participate. You can look at the many beautiful examples of native xeriscaping for arid climates, or photos of chaotic tangles of wildflowers, tamed by narrow paths, a bench under an arbor overwhelmed with wisteria. Maybe instead of trying to get lawn to grown under your mature trees, you'd actually get far more joy out of a patch of dirt. A hammock. A firepit ringed with log sections for seats.

You can free yourself from harmful conventions of taste and beauty, and you do it through imagining something better.

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mr2swap · 6 months ago

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The great shift: a stinking symbiotic relationship

I came home empty-handed, I hadn't even been able to get a job as a cashier at McDonald's, but I can't blame them who would hire an overweight middle-aged man like me... A lot of things are different since the Great Shift, but I guess that some things remain the same, I opened the door to my apartment and the first thing I looked at was my old body sitting on the couch with an annoyed look.

-Dude, What the fuck? You were supposed to be here 35 minutes ago, my phone is blowing up with messages on our subscribers! You know them, they can't wait a minute for any of this! -

Gary Muller, my roommate and my “business partner,” flexed one of his enormous biceps until the shirt that covered the muscular and perfect body that used to belong to me almost burst, then with one of his long fingers he pointed to one of his armpits that for a moment They were dry.

Gary took off his shirt, revealing the body he used to look at every day in the mirror, grabbed a pair of dumbbells that were on the floor and started working out for our afternoon show.

-Yeah... I'm sorry, I went to a couple of job interviews, and they went a little longer than I thought, just... let me change while you train a little-

He just ignored me and went about his business while I walked into our apartment. I had heard that many people ended up in bodies thousands of miles away because of the Great Shift, but me and Gary living next to each other was a strange coincidence.

I didn't know anything about Gary before all this. Furthermore, I only considered him as the old man who lived next to me, sometimes in the mornings while my uncle went to the gym I could see him leaving the building, dressed in a cheap suit and heading to his office job. It was a surprise for me, One day I woke up in his apartment with his old body.

The Real Gary was as surprised as I was, the first time I saw my old body from Gary's perspective I was speechless, there was an expression of confusion on that beautiful, symmetrically perfect face, the long, muscular arms of which I used to be so proud now they were in someone else's possession, but the worst of all was how short I was now. The height difference between us was enormous, while I was almost two meters tall Gary was 1.50 CM Even some children They are taller than me now.

But over time I got used to Gary's horrible old body... every day I prayed to get my old life back, but every day I woke up with horrible back pain and with a face older than my father's, perhaps the most strange now is the hair, Gary started going bald since high school and when he turned 30 he decided to shave all his hair, Gary's bathroom was full of hair growth products that hadn't worked for years.

And while I was suffering from trying not to adapt to the life of a 48-year-old, the real Gary was enjoying his new youth and his new muscular body. I learned that people treat you very differently when you look like a damn stud instead of a wrinkled Troll.

He could hear through the walls like the real home, and he had fun with my body and with all the boys I brought to my old apartment every night, I had never realized how thin the walls were in this building Until for the first time I heard the powerful moans of my old voice at the same time that Gary used my cock to fornicate another man.

Time passed and society continued on its path, for me, it was surprisingly fast how the government recovered from all this. But there was only one problem, there were a lot of unemployed people everywhere, and among all of them was me.

I used to work at the local gym as a trainer, but with this body that had never been in a gym in its entire life, I was quickly fired. On the other hand, Gary's company went bankrupt when most of the investors ended up in young bodies And they decided to sell the company.

As the days went by, Gary and I became somewhat of friends, I helped him with exercise routines and taught him about the nutrition My body needed, We decided that it would be much cheaper for both of us to live together while all this was resolved, And I returned to my old apartment, but I felt like a stranger among my own things. I settled in the smallest room surrounded by my training equipment that was totally useless to me now, everything was too heavy.

Living with Gary was certainly better than living on the street, But every day it made me reconsider if that was true, Unsuccessfully I tried to get a damn job, so I could get out of that apartment and start my life over in Gary's weak old body. I felt like a parasite even with Gary, he paid the rent and all the house services.

On top of that, he used to party every night and hang out with his new gym friends during the day, it was a total mystery to me how he made so much money... until I started receiving some strange messages on my old Instagram account. .

“Hey buddy, was this your body?”

“Dude, are you DaddyGary?”

“Damn, you had such a hot body… I always knew what was under those shorts, you didn't disappoint me.”

It wasn't hard to realize that Gary had been making his filthy armpit fetish porn for those desperate gays. I felt so dirty watching the videos of my old body worshiping his sweaty armpits after the gym.

I immediately confronted Gary about it, and surprisingly he admitted it very quickly. He didn't seem embarrassed, or sorry for doing it, I could even notice a slight mocking smile on his face as I told him how humiliated I felt while a bunch of perverted men masturbated with my stinky armpits.

It was at that moment when those words from Gary sealed the destiny I am living in now.

-Those “disgusting” things like you call them are what pay the rent for this place and keep your old ass from sleeping in some dumpster. And if you want to continue sleeping in your comfortable bed, it's time for you to start contributing a little money, and I know how you can do it... Come here -

He flexed both arms showing his armpits, I was surprised to see that he had recently shaved his armpits, eliminating all the wild hair that I previously kept in my sweaty pits, I... I couldn't control myself, I don't think he's homosexual, but the powerful musk of my old armpits made me react like a bee to honey.

Gary took his phone and started recording me while he worshiped his wet armpits with my tongue.

-You like it, right?… “Gary” Do you like the taste of your old body? Can you believe this used to be me? Damn, You really are pathetic, “Gary” -

It had been several days since I had ejaculated, I had thought Gary's body had erectile dysfunction or something, but at that moment my little cock was hard as a rock and hot as hell. I had never felt this way, my head was completely clouded by the addictive testosterone filled aroma of my old armpits.

-Look friends, “Gary” is jerking off, it seems like he still misses his old body... Maybe we should let him play with him another time...-

Hello, if you liked this story and you want more, you can take a look at my Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

#body swap #male body swap #bodyswap #body switch #male transformation #the great shift

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florencemtrash · 6 months ago

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Three

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Angst, some suggestiveness

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

There was stillness. A few hesitant gasps. A churning inside your chest like an ocean brewing up a storm. Pieces of Koschei fluttered in the air, landing on your skin like bits of ash until all that was left were the chains of teeth spooled on the ground in bizarre memory of the death god who’d worn them.

“Y/n,” Azriel gasped out, struggling to his knees. Sweat lined his brow and dripped from his temples. Blood flaked off his caramel skin like rust.

You could smell the iron on him and identify which stains belonged to which fae warrior. You could tell from one breath how they’d died. The dark mark on his thigh had come from a Spring court nymph run through with a snapped femur bone. The splatter on his cheek came from the Winter court Spymaster who’d been beheaded protecting his High Lord. There were a dozen marks for a dozen bodies, and you could hear their last words echo in your ears.

And there were prayers — so many prayers — being spoken and whispered and screamed throughout the world. Funeral songs. The sounds of weeping and twisted-tongue prophecies all competing to drown out the pleasant hum of the mating bond.

Your skin boiled. The winter chill struck your body and let off steam. You looked down at your hands and saw your palms begin to crack and splinter, light pouring outward just as Ione’s had. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so powerful.

Azriel sank his sword into the ground, dragging himself to his feet.

Don’t let her go into the mirror. Elain had warned him. She may not come out.

Her haunting words froze Azriel to the core. He’d tried to decipher her prophecy, but vague and misleading as they could be, he’d let her warning fade into the background. Now that he was here, it was so painfully clear.

Don’t let her go into the lake.

But he had let you go…and you’d gone for him.

To protect him.

To save him.

Because you loved him.

Now he needed to do everything in his power to save you.

The world was a sharper place. Colors shook on different wavelengths. The air was tainted by new flavors. You could hear it when a human boy a thousand miles away coughed and breathed his last. You could hear his mother’s weeping as his body went cold.

But worst of all, when you looked your father and Lucien in the eye as they propped each other up, you could see their deaths as clear as the clouds in the sky. As if their futures had been inked onto their cheekbones. It was a bloody end, as would befall all High Lords.

You were afraid to look at Azriel when he finally staggered over to you, all but collapsing in his arms. He brought you both to the ground, drawing you into his lap and cradling your face like you were the most precious thing in the world. Fingertips glossed over your temples. Across your cheeks. Over your hot and cracked lips that spilled starlight over his hands.

“Az—” You whispered, tears dotting your eyes and slipping down your cheeks in paths of gold. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel all but growled. “You are not dying on me today.” He grabbed onto the bond, holding you to this plane of existence with desperation. Like a kite about to drift away. It was through the bond that you heard a smaller, more frightened voice beg, “Don’t leave me here alone.”

You were his mate. His mate. This male who’d become your best friend and your home was now your mate. You could have lived a thousand lifetimes with him and been happy. But no amount of time would have left you satisfied. You would have always been greedy for more.

Another minute. Another second.

You coughed and the blood that dribbled down your chin was liquid gold.

Was this all you’d be given? A handful of confusing months and less than an hour together? A mating bond left incomplete?

You wondered if this was how Bethsevah had felt when she’d consumed this power. Whether the same stubbornness had compelled her to hold on so that Koschei’s magic might die with her, or whether her promise to Thanatos to live and have her children had finally convinced her to let go and bury what remained in the lake.

But the lake was no longer an option. In order to kill Koschei you had transformed the very nature of the magic you’d consumed until it belonged to you. You felt it inside your chest — inside your very soul. It was yours. And it was killing you. Like a flame that would soon run out of fuel to burn.

“You’ll be ok, won’t you?” You asked, leaning your head against his chest. You heard his heart beat frantically in your ears and for a moment, the rush of blood through his veins helped dim the choir of weeping and singing. Even now, Azriel was bringing you peace simply by existing.

Helion and Lucien looked to Azriel as he held you, silently begging him to do something.

Anything.

“Azriel,” you gasped, eyes fluttering, “It hurts.”

“I know, Y/n, please just hold on a little while longer,” Azriel begged as more cracks appeared up your arms and across your chest, unfurling like leaves in spring.

He scrambled to think of something as the bond roared with desperation. You would know what to do in his position. If your mind weren’t being driven to madness by a thousand voices you would have come up with a solution ages ago. You with your brilliant theories and your Librarian training and—

Azriel choked, angry tears dripping from his eyes onto your cheeks where they crackled and turned to steam.

You were his best friend.

His home.

His mate.

His—

“I always thought that mating bonds must be some special extension of that. Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.”

“Like the difference between two sets of keys, versus a key and a lock.”

“Maybe? I suppose that’s not a terrible analogy to make, but I’m not sure.” You’d shot him a smile more radiant than the sun, “You’re beginning to think like a Librarian, Azriel.”

Azriel saw the bond stretching before him like a bridge of moonbeam on a cloudless night. It looked like a future where he would always be wanted. Always be loved.

He hadn’t taken you to the seasides of Summer. He hadn’t brought you to meet his mother. He’d never asked for your hand in marriage or seen you in a wedding dress or accepted the bond. All things he so desperately wanted to do.

All things he wanted a chance to do right.

He saw the bond stretching before him, and barreled down with only one thought in mind: he would not lose you today.

It was difficult work crossing the bond before it had been accepted. At times the path felt secure beneath his feet. Sometimes it felt at risk of disappearing entirely. But you were waiting for him. He’d never forgiven himself for that night at the Alcove when he’d arrived late and the wards had already gone up. He didn’t want to be late a second time.

Your mind was composed of endless library stacks — a maze to keep your thoughts secret instead of walls of impenetrable adamant — but Azriel found his way. Bond or no bond, he still knew you like the back of his hand.

When his soul reached yours, you were a flickering light crushed under the weight of your own magic. Pulsing and twisting and fighting to hang on. He caressed your soul, brought you peace of a kind you didn’t know was possible, and began to strip away those layers of light.

He bundled them up and dove down into the deepest recesses of your mind. Memories of the past flew by — painful, haunting, lonely. Full of crippling worries and undying hope for something more. It pressed against him from all sides until he finally came across something safe. Something frozen in time. A distant memory that had remained untouched for centuries. There he constructed a well, burying your powers behind walls of shadow and adamant and bricks of cobalt blue.

Piece-by-piece he stored away your power until the light faded from your skin and you were no longer dying in his arms.

He heard your weak voice, felt your soul flare like a struck match as you took your first clear breath, before beginning the long trek from the place where he’d hidden your power and back into his own body.

He jerked to attention. Twin gasps left your lungs as you clung to one another. Your skin cooled and stitched itself together, leaving behind pale scars that feathered down your body like ferns. The world was far too silent now. The singing. The prayers. The screams. They were all gone.

Until you heard Azriel whimper, “Y/n.” It was just a name. Your name. But it was also a prayer of its own. A quiet song of relief as he crashed over you like a great wave, burying his face against your chest as he began to shake. “Gods, Y/n, I thought I was going to lose you.”

You shook your head, looping your arms around his neck and trembling from the sobs that wracked through his body.

He closed his wings around you, blocking out the sights and sounds of the world as the others left to gather the dead. In this place — in his arms — you were safe. Your skin no longer crawled with fever and death. You could breathe and taste the air as it was. Nothing more. Nothing less. There was only the haggard rhythms of Azriel’s chest as he regained control of his breathing.

The sound of whispered promises.

Words of love.

The smell of cold wind and cedar wood.

Nearly an hour later, Azriel finally let you go for long enough to accept the cloak Helion draped over your shoulders, and a long embrace from your father and Lucien.

“Never do anything so stupid again,” Lucien warned, squeezing you tightly. Your skin was still burnt and sensitive, but worth the spine-cracking hug.

“It wasn’t stupid actually, it was a stroke of brilliance.”

“Let’s not joke just yet,” Helion said, his voice strangled.

Azriel appeared to be in agreement, quickly gathering you under the curve of his wings. You sighed deeply, nuzzling into his side and wishing he would take you far away from here. If you asked, Azriel would have flown away with you in an instant, his own exhaustion be damned. But that new power was humming in your veins. Azriel had locked much of it away, but not all of it. And as you knew all too well, power demanded release.

You looked at Azriel — at your mate — noting his bloodshot eyes and the deep shadows beneath them.

“Azriel, you should—”

“I’m not leaving you,” He croaked. His hazel eyes flashed with fear, his grip around your waist tightening as if to fuse himself to your side.

“You can barely stand.”

His eyes softened, pleading. “Don’t ask me to stay away right now, Y/n. Please.”

And so he followed. Azriel never left your side as you roamed the woods, gold-trimmed cloak trailing behind you.

One by one, you stripped away the spells that had survived Koschei’s death. You were a new and welcome guest within these woods. They’d been left to rot and ruin for too long, like an abandoned house with boarded up windows and sheets laid down over the furniture. You swept off the sheets and tore open the windows. Over a thousand years these woods had laid in darkness. You finally let the light in.

The bones that had been pulled from the earth were laid to rest for good. You cleaned and preserved the bodies that had recently joined the dead, and when you reached the blindspot where Ione and Techaria had died, you took the pieces of Ione and fused her back together until she just looked like a young woman sleeping amongst the trees.

There was nothing left of Techaria for you to bury.

Viviane would not allow you anywhere near Kallias, and so you let her attend to her mate and her grief in privacy.

Then, you went in search of the firebird.

Lucien was already with her, draping his cloak over her shivering, bloody form. She lay in silence, cradled in the pocket of earth she’d landed in after Viviane had cut through her wings with blades of ice. She croaked mournfully, twisting on the ground to gaze upon you with her beady eyes. With a few careful touches you drew away the curse like a curtain until she was a maiden once again, soot-stained but unharmed.

Lucien wrapped her in the cloak, soothing her trembling cries as she called out for Jurian. But she was only met with silence.

Hours later, you all stood by the edges of what was once a lake, carrying the dead and wounded alike in makeshift stretchers or folded neatly within gentle arms.

Cassian had his left arm thrown around Nesta, his figure pale and crooked. His right arm stuck out awkwardly, bloodied rags wrapped tightly around the stump.

Rhysand, prideful and stubborn as he was, refused to be carried on a stretcher. Instead, he limped, propped up on one side by Feyre and on the other side by Helion. Eris did the same, guarded by the remaining true-born sons of Autumn. Tarquin was more practical. He let his men carry him and the broken remains of his shield. Viviane was the last of their procession and carried her husband’s frost-coated body. Her tears dripped down her cheeks and froze there.

At the sight of the High Lady of Winter, Azriel thrummed the bond. He wanted proof you were alive.

You tugged at it gently and he tugged back with a small exhale of breath.

“Is it time to go home now?” You asked him.

He caressed your cheek, and the bond, eyes shining. You shivered beneath both touches.

“Yes, my love, it’s time to go home.”

All those who could winnow pulled together the scraps of their power, the promise of home so tempting they would have swum across the ocean if needed.

The fabric of the universe folded in half and everyone stepped through, leaving behind a wasteland decimated from battle and centuries under Koschei’s oppressive power.

You promised yourself that you would never return, and would keep to that promise. But the next time anyone from Prythian or the Continent gathered enough courage to step foot on the grave of a death god, they would find that everything had changed. Life would find its way once more, and the only things that walked that ground would stand firmly on the side of the living.

You jerked awake, hands clawing at your scalp as you remembered the power that had burned you from the inside out. It still weighed heavily in your chest — both the locked and unlocked portions — serving as a reminder that your magic was changed now. Touched by death like ink spilled over a book page.

Azriel wasn’t asleep. He hadn’t slept since you’d arrived in Prythian and immediately collapsed in his arms, choosing to keep watch over you until you finally woke up.

He was quick to wrap you in his arms and sent all his reassurance and love down the bond. You twitched in his hold. Dug your fingers into his chest so you could feel the beating of his heart.

“Shhhhh, I’m here, Y/n. You’re alright. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he breathed into the crown of your hair.

The bed you were in wasn’t yours, and it was too lush to be Azriel’s. You were drowning in opulence and silk. A far cry from the comfortable simplicity of Azriel’s deep colored walls and blue bed sheets and it felt wrong.

The downy feather pillows were covered in the vibrant turquoise, purples, and reds of the Dawn Court, which Azriel confirmed when he explained, “You were so exhausted you passed out the moment we were back in Prythian. We all decided to stay so Thesan could attend to you, Cass, and Rhys.”

“How long?” You croaked out. Your tongue lay dry and heavy in your mouth. Like someone had shoved cotton down your throat.

“Three days.”

That would explain the film over your teeth. But someone had bathed you since then. You smelled clean. A hint of lavender soap clung to your skin and hair, and the spare shirt you’d been tucked into smelled of night-chilled mist and cedar.

There was no blood. No dirt. Nothing.

If it weren’t for the fern-like scars snaking up and down your body and death’s mark on your powers, you might have believed it was all a dream.

But there was another clue… or rather the absence of a clue.

Azriel’s shadows were missing. He looked naked without them twisting around his wings and across his shoulders.

“Your shadows they’re…” You were at a loss.

Azriel winced. “They’re still gone.”

Gone. Not dead or destroyed. Just… gone.

“Do you think they’ll come back?”

“I don’t know.” It was the uncertainty that was eating away at him. “I can still hear their voices muffled like echoes in the distance, but I haven’t felt them since Koschei…” His words trailed off and he held you impossibly close.

He hadn’t been born with his shadows, but they’d been by his side for all the years that mattered. Losing them had felt like losing a piece of himself.

“Were you hurt elsewhere?” You asked, frantically running your fingers up and down his bare chest and back in search of new scars beneath your fingertips.

“A few bruises here and there and a couple of scratches, but they’re gone now.”

“And the others?”

Azriel looked down at you and grief made the words come out slow. “Rhysand will never fly again and Cassian won’t be the warrior he once was.”

The words slammed into your chest, crushing the breath from your lungs in a strangled gasp.

You didn’t know what to say.

Rhysand had rarely shown his wings, preferring to hide what was truly important to him so that it might not be taken away. But he loved flying. He never smiled so wide as when he and Feyre would gather Nyx and Velaria into their arms and shoot off into the night sky until they’d become one with the stars.

And Cassian… he was a warrior through and through. He may as well have been born with a sword and shield in his hands.

Azriel tucked his fingers beneath your chin. “They’re alive. That’s what I say we focus on.”

Because what else was there to say?

You took his scarred hand in yours, tracing the grooves and valleys along the palms.

You raised your arm, slipping your hands into a ray of light that spilled through the window and pooled across Azriel’s chest. Lightning shaped scars wound down your shoulder to the palms of your hands, catching the shimmering light along the newly healed scar tissue.

“We’re matching,” You whispered, sliding your hand into his like it belonged there.

Azriel’s heart stuttered in his chest and might have given out if you hadn’t kissed him then. It was a hungrier, wilder kiss than he was used to receiving from you. More desperate. As if you wanted to take the air from his lungs just to prove he was breathing.

He pulled away when your hands drifted to his waist and then further down, gently taking your wrists and pinning them by your sides.

“Y/n, you don’t want this. Not now.”

But you did want this. Even if your hands were shaking and your heart was racing uncomfortably.

It wasn’t how you’d imagined it would go. It wasn’t the ideal fantasy you’d read about thousands of times with a bed covered in rose petals and candles to light up the dark. But it was something. It was Azriel. And you were afraid that you’d wake up tomorrow and find that it was all a dream. Or that some other danger lurked around the corner, waiting for its moment to steal your mate from you.

You couldn’t have that. You wouldn’t have that. Not when there were still so many things you wanted to do with him.

You struggled to free your hands, terror rising in your chest at the realization that you’d nearly lost him. The bond had snapped in place and he’d almost died immediately after. What would you have been left with if Azriel had been taken from you? Memories spanning a handful of months and a gaping hole in your life? One half of a bond never realized? Another 300-hundred years alone?

He rolled over on top of you, bracing his arms by your head and gently smoothing back your hair. He whispered for you to just breathe.

It was the closest you’d ever gotten to one another.

“How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me?” You begged him for answers, tears streaming down your cheeks. It was clear from the moment the bond snapped into place that Azriel had known far longer than you had. It was written all over his face now — some mixture of shame and longing. A secret that had been kept hidden for too long.

“I’ve known since the night I met you. Since the moment you called me Azriel the Shadowsinger I’ve known. But I didn’t tell you because I wanted to do things right. I wanted you to love me. I wanted us to take our time.” You started to cry even harder and Azriel felt a piece of his heart crack. “Maybe I took too long.”

He kissed your eyelids, smoothing away the tears with his lips before they could drip down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier and I’m sorry I frightened you but… but when we do this, I don’t want you to be afraid. I don’t want to be in a stranger’s home or for you to be scared I’ll be gone in the morning.”

“Then promise me,” you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks, “Promise me you’re really here. Promise me we’ll have more time together.”

“I’m here, Y/n,” Azriel breathed. “And I swear to you, we will have all the time in the world.”

Maybe it wasn’t a promise he could keep — the gods knew there were some forces beyond his control — but still, he made the promise over and over again with every belief that he could keep it. He whispered those words against your forehead, against your lips, and against your heart until you stopped shaking.

He would tear down mountains and move the very stars in the sky for more time with you.

There was untapped grief that would need to be spoken about and new futures to be arranged. But right now, you and Azriel chose to lay together in silence. It was a quiet sharing of things that couldn’t be spoken, but also couldn’t be carried alone.

You still had each other.

You’d both survived.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Y'all I remain hesitant about the ending of this chapter, but you know what, I'm going to let it stand. Nothing I write can be as weird as some of the questionable smut scenes SJM includes in her books (*cough cough* Feyre should not be giving blowjobs to the sounds of people dying on a battlefield). Like...

Anyhow, thank you to everyone who has stuck around with me and this fic after 100k words (and yeah, we hit 100k words like two chapters back without me realizing!)

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #acotar #azriel x reader angst

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supernovafics · 9 days ago

Text

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, jealous!reader, a bit of angst, fluff

summary: in which you don’t expect to feel so bothered seeing steve talk to another girl, but you do

author's note: this was unfinished for months and i finally felt inspired to actually finish it thank god. i'm trying to slowly get back into writing stuff for this series so enjoy this for now<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summer 1986

When you first heard about the party, you didn’t think too much about it because your Friday night plans were already settled. A simple movie night in your living room with Steve featuring some of the new arrivals that had just gotten to Family Video. However, you still nodded and said a quick, “Maybe I’ll check it out” to your college friend when she told you about her party and you got the address from her too out of niceness.

It wasn’t until you half-mentioned the party to Robin as you picked through the new arrivals cart during the final hour of her and Steve’s shift that going actually became a possibility.

“Wait, what? A party at a lake house sounds perfect. We have to go.”

Steve was quick to look up from the computer and shake his head at her words. “No way. We already have plans for the night, Robs.”

The eye roll he received in response was immediate. “You two can waste away on the couch any night you want. Tonight we should go to a party.”

You considered her words and nodded after a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Thank you,” She smiled at you before looking back at Steve. “And you need to remember that I’m only gonna be here for a few more weeks, so we need to do as much stupid shit as we can while I am still here.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words. “Okay, you can’t keep using the college card like it’s an ‘I only have two weeks left to live’ card.”

“I second that,” Steve agreed. “Also, you keep making it seem like you’re going thousands of miles away. You’re only gonna be an hour away from here.”

“Yeah, well, still, things are changing,” She told you both. “And I wanna have fun before I leave.”

Fun ended up being an understatement.

Barely an hour into the party she was drunk due to one too many cupfuls of whatever punch concoction had been thrown together and put in a big bowl in the kitchen. You and Steve shared one cup of the weirdly sweet drink and then decided to simply settle into the role of babysitting Robin.

You both were currently lingering by a wall and watching as Robin danced with all of the other people crowded in the living room; you vaguely recognized the ABBA song playing. You made a mental note to tell her no if she came running over to you and Steve and proposed the idea of getting another drink.

“This is your fault, you know,” Steve told you, leaning into your ear to be heard over the music. “If you didn’t mention the party to her earlier, you and I would be on the couch watching a movie and eating takeout from Third Street.”

You gave him a sad look coupled with a pouty lip and he immediately felt bad, taking your look to heart. He quickly leaned in to apologetically kiss you.

“Sorry,” He mumbled against your lips.

You were smiling as he pulled away. “You’re too easy.”

He immediately rolled his eyes at you and playfully poked your side, which made you laugh. “And you’re very evil.”

“Sorry, I had to,” You said and initiated the quick kiss that time around. “Anyway, yes, I know this is my fault and I’d kill to have Third Street right now, but look how happy she is.” You gestured in the direction of where Robin was in the packed living room, dancing with all of the other people who you were convinced were at least half-drunk, but you now couldn’t see her. “Wait, shit, where did she go?”

Steve looked around for a second too and then let out a sigh when he also couldn’t spot her. Maybe you two weren’t the best babysitters after all.

“Okay, I’ll check upstairs and you look around down here,” You said to him. “Oh, and maybe grab some water too. She’ll probably need it sooner rather than later.”

Steve gave you a quick nod. “Okay.”

You checked every room upstairs and instead of finding Robin you accidentally interrupted one too many couples making out. After quickly peeking into the last room and mumbling out another “Oops, sorry,” you headed back down the stairs, hoping Steve had better luck than you. You noticed him in the kitchen, two water bottles in hand, and talking to someone who wasn’t Robin but you immediately recognized.

Vanessa. A girl who was in one of your classes last semester and had gone on a handful of dates with Steve at the end of last year.

It was hard to decipher what they were talking about right then, but Steve had a small smile on his face and so did she.

You couldn’t recognize why— or maybe you just refused to admit it right then— but you felt the sudden urge to insert yourself into the conversation; sidle up next to Steve, grab his hand and wrap his arm around you, kiss his cheek or simply plant one on his mouth. Essentially mark your territory for everyone, especially Vanessa, to see. But, you were way too sober to actually consider doing any of that, so you instead looked away from him and went back to searching for Robin.

You found her moments later, sitting on the chair swing on the front porch of the house.

“Hey, Robs, what are you doing out here?” You asked softly as you sat down next to her, trying not to move the swing too much but that proved to be a lot harder than you thought.

Robin didn’t seem to mind, though. Her eyes were closed as she shrugged at your question. “Just wanted some fresh air.”

“Makes sense,” You nodded. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Her eyes stayed shut as she answered you. “Sleepy, but at the same time I kinda wanna get another drink and dance some more.”

“I’ll allow the dancing, but I need to be a good babysitter right now and say no more drinking.”

She gave you a quick nod. “The logical side of me knows you’re right.”

Things got quiet for a second and in that moment of quiet you thought about Steve and Vanessa in the kitchen. It seemed as if all your brain wanted to do right then was play that moment on repeat. You could inwardly admit that the conversation had looked completely innocent and probably quite literally meant nothing, but for some reason, it still bothered you.

“A part of me wishes I got drunk with you,” You said to Robin with a sigh and leaned back into the chair.

She smiled at that and looked at you. “You definitely still can.”

Before you could answer, you heard the front door open and subsequently close, and then Steve’s voice filled the brief quiet. “Good. You found her.”

He handed one of the water bottles he was holding over to you. “I grabbed one for you too.”

He the. placed the other bottle in Robin’s lap and she gave him a small smile. “Thanks, dingus.”

If the circumstances were different and your thoughts weren’t confused and scattered, you would’ve shifted over a bit and made room for Steve on the small chair swing, and a random conversation would’ve played out for the next few minutes before you or he suggested leaving. But things weren’t different, so you didn’t.

Steve didn’t think too much of it, though. Instead, he simply asked, “Should we head out?”

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah.”

He looked at Robin. “We’re taking you to our place, right?”

“Yes, please,” She answered, smiling. “You guys are great babysitters.”

She shut her eyes again and Steve looked at you, giving you a smile and you were quick to force one back. It was then that you could tell that he knew something was up with you because of the look he gave you in response to your forced smile, but he didn’t get to ask you what was going on because Robin was abruptly standing up and asking which way the car was.

It wasn’t until you all were finally in Steve’s car and driving away from the party— Robin fell asleep in the backseat almost immediately— that he finally asked.

“What’s wrong?”

You let the question linger in the air for a bit— keeping your eyes focused out the window and letting your fingers mindlessly fiddle with the zipper of your jacket— before you answered him.

“I don’t know…” You mumbled with a shrug and then you sighed and shook your head. “Actually, I do know, but it’s dumb. It’s stupid.”

His right hand moved off of the steering wheel and found one of yours. “You can tell me.”

You knew he was right, but that didn’t make being a thousand percent honest feel any easier in this moment.

“Vanessa was at the party,” You ultimately said, figuring that would be the easiest way to start the conversation.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, we talked for a second.”

“Yeah, I saw,” You said and wanted to end the conversation there, but you knew that you couldn’t. “It kinda annoyed me a bit.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, taking a quick look at you.

“I don’t know…” You sighed again. “Just seeing you guys talking was a little annoying, I guess.”

Things got quiet for a second, and that managed to make you get even more inside your head. Maybe Steve thought you were insane or he was even mad at you for feeling this way. This was entirely unchartered territory between you two, so you weren’t entirely sure what his reaction would be.

“Oh,” Steve said as if he was realizing something and then smiled a bit. “You were jealous.”

You immediately rolled your eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

You used your free hand to gesture to his face. “With that smile on your face.”

“I think it’s cute that you were jealous,” He told you, pulling your intertwined hands up to his lips so that he could kiss the back of yours.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

“It really is,” Steve said and you decided not to protest him that time around, looking out the window again.

“I love you, by the way,” He continued. “Just in case you forgot.”

That managed to finally get a smile out of you.

“I did forget, actually. Thank you for the reminder,” You joked and then turned to look at him. “I love you too.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Guiding a half-awake Robin from the car to your and Steve’s apartment was a feat in itself, but it somehow worked out. You two helped Robin into your bed instead of letting her take the couch and then you set a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand because you had a feeling she’d need it in the morning.

You changed into your pajamas in Steve’s room, which simply consisted of a t-shirt that you had long ago stolen from Steve and a pair of shorts, and then both you and him settled into his bed.

He had fallen asleep pretty quickly and you thought, or more so hoped, that you would find sleep easily too, but instead, you tossed and turned in bed because you couldn’t seem to shut off your mind. You weren’t entirely sure why you were still feeling a little sulky and weird about everything— Steve didn’t care and he wasn’t upset with you for feeling jealous— but there was something still nagging at the back of your head about the whole thing.

“I know what you’re thinking right now,” You heard Steve sleepily mumble after what felt like an hour of you trying but failing to force yourself to sleep but it was probably only twenty minutes. His arm circled around your waist and he pulled you back against him. “And you should stop it.”

The fact that he could easily read your mind wasn’t surprising and it was probably the only thing that made you feel a little bit okay and made you want to at least attempt to verbalize the thoughts that had been running through your head.

“I just hate being like this. It feels so— I don’t know…” You were then squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your face into the pillow as you admitted, “When I saw you and her talking I really wanted to just go up and kiss you in front of her, so that she knew that we’re together and you’re mine.”

“Mm, you should’ve done that,” He mumbled into your neck. “That would’ve been really hot.”

You finally turned on your side to face him. “Shut up. I don’t know why I just admitted that, honestly. I told you this was stupid.”

“Don't feel embarrassed about it,” He said, somehow managing to sum it all up perfectly; you were feeling embarrassed. “This happens to me all the time.”

You laughed a little. “You don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better about how dumb I'm being.”

“I’m serious,” He told you. “Remember last Thursday when you came to Family Video during the last hour of mine and Robin’s shift?”

When you gave him a quick nod in response, he continued. “I was so annoyed watching you talk to that one guy.”

At first, you weren’t sure what guy he was talking about, but then it hit you. It had been the all too familiar situation where someone thought that you also worked at the store because you were the only one standing behind the counter since both Robin and Steve were stocking shelves. But even after you told this guy that you actually didn’t work there, he kept the conversation going and you laughed and smiled along for a bit to be nice before making up some excuse and retreating to the break room for the rest of Steve and Robin’s shift.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t seem annoyed at all, and we didn’t even talk about it.”

“Yeah, because for like two minutes I felt jealous, but then I remembered that I’m the one you’re with and nothing could change that— especially not some random blonde guy— so…” Steve trailed off with a shrug and smile.

As if flicking a light switch, his words changed everything for you. Once again, he was right; there was nothing that could change what you two had.

“And just so you know,” He continued, voice soft and quiet. “I always feel embarrassed and stupid about it after it happens too.”

You were smiling as you kissed him then, closing the small bit of distance between you two and finding his lips in the darkness that consumed his room.

“I can’t believe you’re turning out to be the rational one out of the two of us,” You joked when you pulled back from the kiss and proceeded to bury your face into his neck and completely entangle your body with his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” He whispered back and pressed the softest kiss to your shoulder before he started to pull away from you. You immediately pouted at him in protest but he continued, pulling the blanket off of both of you and getting out of bed. “It’s only midnight. Let’s do what we were actually supposed to do tonight.”

Hearing him say that made you follow suit and get out of bed too, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Movies and Third Street?”

Steve was nodding as he walked over to you, arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close to him. “Yup.”

“That’s a great idea,” You whispered, looking up at him. “But, no funny business on the couch, though. The walls are way too thin and we’ll never hear the end of it from Robin if she hears anything.”

“Okay,” Steve said, and then proceeded to kiss your forehead and then both of your cheeks and then your neck; all of which made you softly laugh. “Sorry, just needed to get those out of the way first.”

You gave him an understanding nod that you hoped looked as serious as you wanted it to be, but there was a wide smile on your face as you spoke. “Okay, yeah, makes sense.”

He gave you one final kiss, that time against your lips, and then he was pulling away from you and heading toward his shut door. Your arms circled around him from behind as you followed him out into the living room.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff

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justliketoreadsowhat · 5 months ago

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Saturday Night Lights ❦

- 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 -

𝐀/𝐧 ; 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 ♥︎, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 & 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐞-𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞.

____________________________________________

“You look so beautiful tonight” Paige expressed her admiration for you, her eyes roaming across your features relentlessly, it became like a second nature to her, no matter where you two were.

As for tonight, the Washington Spirts Soccer game was one of the many side quests you two had planned together. If there was ANY women’s sporting event occurring within a 30-mile radius, you could bet money you two would be in attendance.

“Mmm.. so what about all the other nights?” you teased, knowing you’d be amused by her reaction, you just loved to egg her on.

She clicked her tongue at your antics, “You look beautiful every night baby, but you already knew that” her tone low and soft eyeing your facial expression.

“Ewww! Can you guys stop being so cringey and watch the game” Drew groaned dramatically, moving over 2 seats away from the two of you. He never failed to make you laugh even though he was being so serious, he was definitely a 2.0 version of Paige.

“Just relax and eat the popcorn you begged me for”, she side-eyed him playfully

“Now you’re just dragging it, I can’t wait until Azzi gets here” shaking his head shamelessly, fixing his pride hat in the process.

“She’s not gonna save you Drew” you laughed, reaching over to flip the top of his hat inside out. You loved messing with him every chance you got, over the past few months, he’s become one of your greatest little sick kicks. “Eh she might, y’know she has her favorite children, too bad you’re not one of them” she shrugged.

“Not too much on Drew!” you snapped, mushing her face into your hands. “Guys! stop you’re on the big screen, look!”

Both of your eyes jolted upwards, only to meet eyes with the jumbotron zooming in on the two of you. The stadium erupted with loud cheers and applause that shook the seats.

“They left out Drew” she muttered through her cinematic smile, waving at the screen.

Without a 2nd thought, you pulled Drew back to his designated seat next to you, he cheesed at the screen with delight

“Yeah that’s definitely getting posted on Tiktok, guess you’ll have more to add to your collection hm?” a familiar voice rang from behind you. “Azzi! finally, I was getting tourtered out here” Drew said exasperated, pulling her down into a tig hug.

“Wow so now we’re lying for fun” her nose scrunched up in disbelief, “remember those words”

“Gosh what did ya’ll do to him this time?, kiss??” she questioned lingering with sarcasm.

“No! we’d never do that“

“THATS A LIE! I still remember that day I caught you guys outside-“

“Okay anyways!” you intervene, saving yourself the embarrassment of re-living the moment. “There’s a spokesperson heading our way so act like civil human beings”

“I already talked during the Mystic game so I’m clocked out for the day” Azzi sighed, climbing over the row of seats to sit next to Drew “Paige this is all you” tilting her head to the woman who stood near the railings waiting for people to clear the path.

“I don’t even know what to say..” she trailed off, her fingers lightly tapping your forearm trying to gather her thoughts, her social battery had to be low by this point, but she would never turn down an opportunity to speak out at events, a professional yapper in her natural habitat always thrives.

“Come with me” she asserted standing up to her full frame as you remained planted in your seat. There is no way you were going to endure a microphone being shoved in your face for thousands of people to see, being on the big screen was good enough for you.

“What am I supposed to say?!” you said barely above a whisper. Your brain began to rattle with scenarios

“Just stand there and look pretty like you always do” her hands met yours as she gently peeled you from your seat.

“Don’t forget to make eye contact, it gets em everytime” Azzi winked, you chuckled at her antics, she was so effortlessly charming, although she’d never admit it.

“Make sure you remind her to blink, sometimes she forgets” Drew laughs, popcorn spilling from the bucket he soon forgets he was supposed to be holding.

Paige swung her arm across his lap, sending the popcorn flying across the stands. “Make sure you clean up your mess, sometimes you forget” she grits. You gasped trying your best not to bring any more attention to the scene unfolding. Pulling her away from the seats you made your way to the spokeswoman.

What a fun way to spend your Saturday night, and to think it was only the beginning.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #azzi fudd #uconn huskies #black stories #paige x reader

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lowkeyerror · 7 months ago

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The Family Business Ch.12

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Ch. Notes: It's a converstion so dialouge heavy, non-sexual nudity

Summary: Natasha and Wanda reveal their feelings.

An: Ok... ok late again, but tell me it's not worth the wait. (Please don't) Hopefully you love it because it's 2:25am but I'm still doing this for yall and yes if everything goes right new ch. on Monday

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wanda couldn’t look at you when she was speaking. You could see she was trying to find the words, but you didn’t know how to help her.

Natasha knowing what her wife is trying to say tries to take over.

“ Before I met you I was a little jealous. Seeing the love of my life light up talking about someone who was quite literally thousands of miles away, was a hard pill to swallow. I haven’t known you as long as Wanda, but I can see now why she had always spoken so highly of you.”

You want to interrupt the red head and say anything back to her, but you don’t. They had said they wanted to tell you everything before you spoke so you intended to let them.

“When Papa sent me away, I resented him for it. It was a great opportunity and a show of good faith, but I was angry with him because I didn’t want to leave you here. I thought we had grown quite close, little krolik. You were the best part of all my days. So much so that even thousands of miles away I couldn’t shut up about you. Even after I fell in love, you’d always find a way into my mind,” Wanda plays with her wedding ring as she speaks.

You look between the two woman silently urging them to continue.

“I’ve been many places, lived many lives, and have met many people, but I've never met anyone like you. There’s this light inside you that you keep so close to your chest. I can feel it behind all the walls you put up. I see it in how intensely you care about your family and I admire it. I admire you,” Natasha isn’t scared to take your hand in hers.

Wanda continues, “It’s hard not to admire you. If Natasha has seen it in these few months, it’s safe to say I’ve always seen it. I saw it before you put all these walls up, when you let it be known to everyone. I think that’s what startled me so much when I came home. I felt like a soldier come home from war to see his home was no longer his.”

The woman begins to get emotional. You reach out your other hand for her to take, not knowing what else to do.

“When I saw Wanda interact with you for the first time, I felt something. It wasn’t jealousy or hatred or anything like that. It was this overwhelming warmth. Seeing her hold you as if you’d disappear, seeing her smile as big as our wedding day, it made me happy,” Natasha recounts.

Wanda sighs, “When we were in my old room at the dinner I was terrified. I thought you were going to tell me the same thing everyone else had when it came to you, but you didn’t. You held me, dried my tears, and I think things really started to fall into place for me then.”

“I met Wanda when she was technically on a job. She was leading and in charge of operations. I had seen her get angry or upset on multiple occasions, but I don’t know if I ever saw her as mad as that night. I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears when she had Pietro against the wall. As far as I knew, I was the only one who could calm her down, but then you did it like it was second nature.”

You speak quietly, “She’s always had a temper.”

You think the woman will roll her eyes, but she doesn’t, “I have and you have always been there to calm me down. I don’t know how to say this, Y/n. When I met you, you were just my little brother’s best friend, but then you became my friend and then a part of my family. You were so delicate back then, you weren’t even 18 for Christ sake.”

Natasha tries to help her wife find her bearings, “But by the time she left you were 22 and you had grown into a young woman.”

Wanda shakes her head a bit, “You had done a lot of growing, that I didn't want to see, that I was trying to ignore because I didn’t want you to think that I had intentions of taking advantage of you. I felt like at the time I was too old, you were too young, and we were too close.”

You look at her with confusion on your face. There’s only one thing that she could be talking about in your mind, but this can’t be happening.

“What are you saying Wanda?”

For the first time in the conversation her eyes meet yours. You see the fear in them, the uncertainty, the desperation. Her hand let’s go of yours and finds itself on her bouncing knee.

“I don't want to ruin this and I'm so scared of losing you, but if you would’ve died in that alley not knowing that I’m in love with you it would’ve destroyed me.”

You feel your heart beating against your chest. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to find your voice. You find yourself stuttering for the first time in years, “Y-you w-what?”

Wanda stands abruptly trying to run from the conversation. This makes you panic and try to stand as well. However, you forget about your ankle and yelp at the weight you put on it.

Wanda’s arms are quick to steady you before you do anymore damage to yourself. She’s close to you and you swear you can hear her heartbeat.

“D-did you s-ay-” you give up frustrated with your reappearing stutter.

Wanda’s grip on you tightens slightly, “I’m in love with you.”

“Wanda I- you’re married,” you look back at Natasha only to find her staring at you.

She stands from her place on the couch, and closes the gap between the two of you.

“I have my own feelings for you Y/n,” Natasha is confident as she speaks.

Her assertion makes you turn red, “Y-you also?”

Natasha smiles sweetly, “Maybe not love just yet, but I could see myself falling for you.”

This situation was short-circuiting your brain, it felt like you were dreaming. This couldn’t be real. As you stood between the two woman it felt like less of a dream.

“I loved you before they sent you away,” you blurt out to your friend’s sister.

Once you start it’s like the words just pour out of your mouth, “You were way out of my league. You’re still out of my league, I mean does it get more taboo than falling for your best friend’s older sister. You’re just so easy to love, but I never thought I had a chance and then you came back with a wife; a very beautiful, very intelligent, ex-Russian spy of a wife, and I just knew I didn’t have a chance.”

“The chance is now. Admittedly, we don’t know how something like this works, but I think we can figure it out together,” Wanda levels with you.

“If you're interested,” Natasha adds on, leaving the ball in your court.

“It would’ve been nice if you guys had told me before I got a cut on my lip. I could’ve done the whole dramatic kiss to cut you off,” you tease them.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “If I could shove you and you wouldn’t fall over, I would.”

“You talk to every woman you’re in love with like that?”

Natasha chimes in, “You get used to it after awhile.”

You share a laugh and when it dies down Wanda speaks, “So we’re doing this?”

“I want to try, but I don’t want to ruin your marriage,” you speak honestly.

“You won’t,” Natasha declares with certainty.

“How do you know?”

She thinks for a moment, “The love Wanda and I have for each other is endless, I’ve never for a moment thought anything could break it up. We’re not changing the way we love each other, we’re just adding you into the already existing dynamic. Eventually it should end with the three of us loving each other endlessly. Does that make sense?”

You nod slowly, “It sounds perfect.”

Natasha places a kiss on your cheek like it’s second nature to her, “Good.”

Your ears heat at the contact and before you can respond Wanda places a light kiss at the corner of your lips.

The movement leaves you wanting more. Against better judgement you try to lean down and kiss her. You succeed in placing your lips against hers for a brief second but as you pull away you almost fall again.

Natasha is the one to steady you this time. She teases you, “Someone is eager?”

“My ankle doesn’t want me to be great.” you pout.

Natasha hesitates, but delicately she touches her lips to yours. It’s as quick as your attempt at kissing Wanda.

“Your ankle won’t stop us, bunny,” Wanda looks at you with shining eyes.

Your face heats at the nickname that’s only familiar to you in the woman’s native language. The women chuckle at the pigment of your skin.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when my lips don’t hurt and I can kiss you properly,” you try once again standing on your own.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Wanda lets her eyes fall to your lips.

You roll your eyes, “Stop teasing, and help me get ready for bed. This has simultaneously been one of the best and one of the most painful days of my life. Truly unforgettable.”

Natasha speaks first, “I’ll get some stuff ready for a shower.”

“I’ll help you to the bathroom,” Wanda finishes.

It’s an all too similar feeling as you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter with Wanda standing between your legs.

Her fingers play with the end of your shirt. She looks at you for permission and you give her a light nod.

Slowly as to not aggravate your injuries she takes your shirt off. She’s careful as she unwraps the bandages from your torso.

“You’ll need help in there,” she speaks softly as her eyes scan your body.

“I know,” the pain starts to catch up with you.

Leaning forward slightly you rest your head on her shoulder. She smells good and it calms your nerves.

Wanda can’t help herself as she speaks up, “Isn’t this a familiar scene?”

You raise your head off of her shoulder and smile, “It’s ringing a few bells.”

Natasha enters the restroom with some towels and pajamas, “I’m going to get some food going, if you guys are alright in here?”

Wanda nods, “I’ve got her, Nat.”

Natasha nods and proceeds to exit the bathroom, “Just holler if you need me.”

Wanda steps away from you to turn the shower on. She’s back in front of you in no time.

“How do you want to do this?”

You feel nerves as you speak, but you try to sound objective, “I think you should join me. Not because I want to see you, not that I don’t want to see you. Its just I can’t really stand and-”

She quiets you down by pulling her own shirt over her head. Her feet pad against the bathroom floor as she makes her way back over to you. Wanda’s hands place themselves on the top of your pants. Her movements are slow but sure as she begins to pull them down. She takes extra care when they're around your ankle.

Once they’re off she takes a step back swiftly removing her own pants. The only thing left on both of you is your underwear.

The sound of the shower rings heavily in your ears as you watch Wanda take her bra off. You can’t move even if you want to. Your eyes glance over her chest before following her hands path lower. She’s not teasing as she removes her panties.

Once again you find yourself with her standing between your legs, but this time there was significantly less fabric in the way. She reaches behind you back to place her hands on your bra clasp.

“Y/n, do you mind if-"

“Take it off,” you finish for her.

She does as you say, a shaky breath releases from her. Your bra falls off your shoulder, but you keep looking in her eyes. Her hand slides down from your back and her finger hooks around your underwear.

“Take it off,” you repeat in a hushed tone.

She follows your instructions. Her eyes snap back to yours. The two of you stare in silence. There’s an underlying tenderness to the moment.

Wanda’s hand reach for your waist, “Ready?”

You nod and she assists you off of the counter. The water hits your skin and you sigh. You enjoy the heat against your bruised skin. Wanda’s hands stay in place for a moment just keeping you steady.

It's a silent delicacy as Wanda soaps up a towel and begins to gently clean your skin. You marvel at the lightness of her touch.

She turns you around so you face her. You look down at her and can’t help but brush your nose against hers. You hear her breath hitch. Carefully you use your hand to guide her’s across your body.

Neither of you dwell as she cleans every inch of you intimately. You lean against the shower wall a bit so Wanda has room to wash herself. You take in the details of her body as she cleans herself.

She gets out first and then helps you put the pajamas laid out for you on before dressing herself.

“I love you,” you say it easily when everything is done.

Wanda places a kiss on your forehead, “I love you too.”

Wanda helps you to the kitchen table. Your eyes find Natasha moving about in the kitchen.

“Almost done, I know you’re tired lisichka. We can eat then get in the bed,” Natasha speaks to you.

“Thanks Natty,” you look at her with your hand on your chin.

“Did you re-wrap her torso detka?” Natasha asks her wife.

Wanda snaps her fingers, “I knew I forgot something.”

“Take over here, and I’ll do it?”

Wanda agrees to these terms. Natasha goes to fetch the medical wrap and quickly returns. You’re sitting down, so Natasha kneels to be level with your torso.

Carefully with tentative hands, she lifts up your shirt. Her hand finds the small of your back, to encourage you to sit straight. You follow her instructions.

“Tell me if it’s too tight, okay?”

You’re looking down into her eyes and you momentarily get lost in them. The hues of green draw you in like emeralds.

“Baby,” she says again a little more firm.

You snap out of it and nod, “I’ll tell you if it’s too tight.”

She brings the wrap around your torso multiple times, each time looking for any extensive discomfort in your expression.

When she’s done with your torso, she quickly does your ankle. Your ankle was more sensitive, so she made sure to be extra gentle.

“All set, lisichka,” the woman places a kiss on your forehead as she stands up.

“Food is ready,” Wanda announces bringing plates for the three of you to table.

At this point exhaustion was knocking at your door. You eat in comfortable silence and once you’re finished, they help you to bed.

When your head hits the pillow, you almost fall asleep instantly.

“If I didn’t want to kill him for what he did to my father, I’d kill him for this,” Wanda says to her wife.

“The men involved have been dealt with already,” Natasha relies to her Wanda.

“You work fast malyshka,” Wanda places her hands on Natasha’s hips.

Natasha looks at your sleeping figure, “I’d move at the speed of light for either of you.”

Natasha ends her statement by kissing Wanda.

“I love you,” Wanda pulls the woman closer to her.

Natasha smiles pecking the woman’s lips once more, “I love you too.”

The two of them climb into the bed, making sure to give you adequate space due to your injuries.

“Why does this already feel so natural?” Wanda questions.

Natasha answers instantly, “It’s just meant to be like this. This feels like the final piece to our little puzzle."

Wanda was more than content with that answer, closing her eyes, unable to fight rest.

Somewhat like before, but entirely different at the same time, the three women lay together.

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#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #the family business

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takumiraine · 7 days ago

Text

Once upon a time chapter 3

3 chapters in as many days? Nobody tell my Ao3 readers. I don’t have siblings, but I hope I captured banter well.

Once upon a time two men stopped believing in fairy tales.

Jason walked into the admissions office with Dan’s schedule memorized as well as Bab’s working schedule in the library to debrief both before and after and make sure their own girl genius ate. She was the only one in the family that didn’t treat him differently since the whole dead until he wasn’t thing after all.

“Hi there,” Jason said to the woman working the desk, turning on every ounce of charm, bringing out the smile that historically got him into as many troublesome spots as it got him out of. “I’m Jason Todd-Wayne and I think I’m ready to put down roots and get my degree in Literature. Russian or English, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh!” The woman looked suitably flustered, and he felt suitably stupid as he stood there with that thousand sun smile and his stupid shock of white hair and completely unprotected t shirt and jeans. Yeah he had a couple of knives in his boots but… he felt entirely too exposed. “Let me… make a call and see who can get you settled in.”

An hour and one incredibly flimsy “yeah well I’ve been doing absolutely no learning the last five years just give me the remedials first” lie later, and Jason had a schedule that matched up in a couple places with this Dan person.

He went to go see Babs at her job in the library, stopping at the campus coffee shop to bring her her favorite drink. May as well add some extra bribery to keep her from spilling if Bruce asked.

Jason doubted he would but weirder things have happened.

He walked up to where she was tapping away on one of the computers at the reference desk. He reached over and set the coffee near enough so she could grab it and far enough away that she wouldn’t throw a fit about the possibility of spills.

Jason looked around idly, waiting for her to be done with whatever task she was set to. Once she was done she grabbed the cup. “He’s here.” She said, taking a drink from her coffee.

Jason blinked. “What?”

“Yeah. Once I saw him this morning, without static, I realized why he was familiar.” There was the steady beep-beep-beep as she checked in books. “He practically lives here. Northwestern corner on the desktop.” More beeping and Jason turned his head under the guise of scanning the space as he sipped from his own drink. “Wouldn’t be suspicious except for last night, and knowing his class schedule.”

Jason nods, pushes off the desk and makes a slow circuit under the guise of looking for a book. The kid, under bright daylight, looks like hell. Pale with dark circles under his eyes. Thin. A quick glance at the screen shows him working on math way more complex than the remedial class he - they were taking. He selected a book from the shelf and returned to Babs.

“Kid looks more dead than I am,” Jason muttered, setting his cup down and paging through the book. Not only did the kid not notice when Jason got close but didn’t look over. No sense of danger that one.

He stood, making bland conversation with Babs and skimming through the book. At least until the kid got up. A quick check of the clock showed it was almost time for their first shared class. He walked out first, and pulled out the sheet of paper with his schedule. When the kid passed by Jason stopped him.

“Hey, sorry to bug you,” he wasn’t, “I started a bit late. Any idea where DL 115 is?” Danny startled a bit as he realized he was being spoken to, before nodding.

“Yeah. Headed there now. C’mon. I’m Danny.” The kid gave a smile and Jason was hit with the thought that with some sleep he was probably handsome.

As they walked Danny rambled a mile a minute, giving directions and a mini tour. Everything surface level, but kind nonetheless. He stifled a yawn as they passed the cafe where Jason had gotten the two coffees earlier that morning “and I’ve heard this place has the best coffee anywhere near campus. Haven’t tried it myself so your mileage may vary, but the smells are right.”

Jason normally found this sort of prattle irritating, but he found himself more amazed at the fact that a kid who had a knife in his stomach no more than 12 hours before was moving like nothing happened.

When they got to class Jason took the spot next to Danny. “Thanks for the tour man,” he said, wishing he could drop the Jason Todd-Wayne persona and go back to being just Jason.

“Yeah. Of course. Gotta help where you can.” Point one against being a rogue in the making. “Whats your major?”

“Literature. You?”

“Mechanical Engineering. I’m shit at lit, my high school teacher once accused me of being that dense on purpose.” Jason couldn’t help the snort, and he caught Danny’s lips quirk in a smile.

“Whats an engineer doing in a remedial math class?”

“High school was murder. Spent most of the time ghosting my classes.” He shrugged a bit, arranging the books he brought on the table. “Chronic underachiever.” The last two words were said with the same tone of someone who had heard them more often than anyone bothered to ask the reason behind it. Jason wasn’t quite sure where that point fell.

“Well, we need more engineers here. You grow up in one of the districts?” Small talk was a Wayne staple and even though Jason could appreciate the way they were helping him get information from the kid, it made him want to claw his face off.

“Nah.” A pause and the pit in Jason burned suddenly. “Small town in the Midwest. They need good ones there too. But Gotham was willing to pay me to be here.” He shrugs. “It’s a living I guess.” Jason had to resist the urge to grit his teeth. “You grow up here?”

A breath in. Out. Control. “Yeah. Crime alley until I was adopted by Bruce Wayne.”

Something in Danny’s look changes subtly, and the pit shrieks. Jason clenches a fist under the table, nails biting into his palm. “Doesn’t he fund the Justice League?” Knowledge outside his scope. Either the kid researched or had inside info. One point for rogue. Jason shrugged one shoulder and did his best ‘I just work here’ voice.

“I think so. Managing the money is more my brother’s thing though.” Keeping his voice even is a struggle with the way the pit lashes inside of him. Sweat beads at his hairline even though he’s certain the air conditioning just clicked on from the way the air is suddenly cooler around him.

“I hate those assholes…” he heard Danny mutter as the teacher entered and began the class. Another point towards rogue. So far it was pretty even, but there could still be an explanation.

The teacher began droning on and slowly the pit calmed in him as more math was put in front of them. Jason wished it would act up. Trying to manage it would keep him occupied from the numbers. They always only meant one thing. There was no subtext. No beauty. No romance to it.

God. If anyone knew that the vicious Red Hood was secretly a romantic? Kill him again now. He glanced over at Danny’s notebook when he realized he missed some instructions. The guy’s handwriting was a mess, little notes jotted this way and that with arrows connecting it to something else that Jason recognized from the more complex math that Babs and Tim sometimes got on about.

Danny caught him looking and trying to copy, and rolled his eyes but put dots next to the things he was missing once he looked over at Jason’s mess of notes.

After class, Jason couldn’t help but ask “why are you in this math class? I’m the wrong guy to ask but that sh…stuff,” he corrected, reminding himself who he was supposed to be. Danny raised an eyebrow but let him continue, “seems way more complicated than what we’re learning.”

“I’m a bad tester.” He shrugs. “I’ve had worse lecture experiences.”

Jason had an opening to get to know this guy better. “Any chance you’d be willing to tutor me?”

Danny’s eyes furrowed at him, “I’m sure your dad could hire someone with a math degree, not just some….” He waved his hand “nothing nobody from nowhere.” He finished. Jason considered, or at least pretended to.

“He could, probably a whole fleet of them. But I hate asking him for things. Rich people are just….”

“Pompous assholes?” Danny supplied when Jason seemed to struggle for a nice way to put it. Even Sam had been at first, her parents’ attitudes surrounding money rubbing off on her.

“Yeah. We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. But I will pay.”

Danny seemed to consider that for a while, watching him more closely than the exhausted appearance would make anyone expect, something sharp and calculating in his gaze. Finally he seemed to decide and nodded, opening to a page where he had his schedule scribbled out. “I guess. When?”

“As soon as possible, I’ve already missed a couple weeks and I’m totally lost.” Not a complete lie. He could get himself caught up but making the bridge with Danny was more important. “Dinner at the cafe? I’ll buy for the inconvenience and then we can head to the library and get started?” Jason remembered Danny showing the mugger the empty wallet the night before. Either the kid kept his money elsewhere or he was broke.

Those sharp blue eyes landed on him again and narrowed slightly, and Jason got the distinct impression he was trying to weigh Jason’s soul against a feather. Then, again, Danny looks away and shrugs. “I guess. My next class is out at five.” Jason made a point of checking his watch. It was three. He nodded. “Meet you there at quarter after.” Jason nodded his agreement and stood. As Danny started to walk off Jason heard “And don’t think I’ll take it easy on you just because you’re a pretty rich boy.”

Fuck. What had he just gotten himself into?

The class Danny was headed to wasn’t one they shared, so Jason returned to the library. “Any idea what the kid does on the computer while he’s here?” Jason asked quietly, standing next to where Babs was shelving books. She handed him one and he put it back where it belonged, over her head.

“Excuse you, libraries are havens for those who want to be away from the panopticon of spying that is the powers that be.” Babs shot back, handing him another book. She could have reached that one but they both knew the understanding was clear, ‘you stand here to bother me during my normal girl hours, you work.’

‘And I know you’ his look countered. She sighed, wheeled herself and the cart to a different shelf.

“Nothing suspicious. Some conspiracy forums. Spends a lot of time sharing conspiracies with accounts named Technus and Ember, occasionally gets told to ‘go outside and eat something’ by an account called Desiree. Everything seems normal, or as normal as can be from conspiracy nuts.”

“What’s their favorite conspiracy?”

“Ghosts mostly. Though Pariah, Dan, also talks about how the JL is either in the pocket of the government or vice versa. He can’t seem to decide.”

“Any idea why he hates them?”

She hums, finishes with that shelf and moves along, waving cheerfully at some students that come out of a study room and keeps on her way. Jason is amazed that she manages the heavy book cart with her wheelchair. It’s just proof that there’s nothing that Babs can’t do. Jason doesn’t offer to push it. If she wanted his help she’d tell him. Or hand him something.

“Something about only helping when it suits them. Sending the government to put down anyone who needs help that they don’t want to give.”

“Threat assessment?” Jason was willing to bet that there was a reason. Maybe not a good reason, but a reason.

“Minimal so far. If they are working together, this forum seems to be their only point of contact. Ember is in Bludhaven, and although I haven’t been able to get any real id on her, Dick says there hasn’t really been anything abnormal out there. She uses a different computer almost every time and pays in cash. Technus is in Metropolis. Has some pretty nasty firewalls. I could get past them but then he’d probably know. Desiree is in Yale, studying psychology. She’s probably the one I have the most information on. Real name Jasmine McLain. Eldest daughter of two middle class parents, younger sibling died in a hit and run in high school, left town first chance she got and never looked back. Overachiever in high school and got an associates in Psychology while working full time. Doesn’t know much about net security but nothing stands out beyond that.”

Jason shelved a few more books. Wished he still smoked. “Something doesn’t feel right.” He couldn’t put his finger on what.

“Sure it’s not that jacket?” Jason looked down at himself, frowning. He looked pretentious. He looked like an asshole. He looked like Tim or Bruce.

“Now that’s just mean and uncalled for Barbie.” He said her name just loud enough for some stupid barely 18 year old somewhere in the stacks to chirp back ‘Hi Barbie’ almost automatically.

Babs pulled a face, elbowed him in the ribs. “Laugh it up J.J. the Jet Plane.”

In spite of the carefully honed bat instinct that said he was missing something important, Jason smiled.

#writing #fanfiction #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #batfam #jason todd #red hood #dead on main #dp x dc crossover

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