#but my mom was sweeping and it started to get to me that I really needed to at least dust and sweep

[possamble]

What are your headcanons about Marcille's mom if you have any? It's interesting that what drew Donato to her was cause she lived the history he studied, or that was said somewhere at least. She must've had an interesting life.

so this was going to be just a normal answer but then I realized I have a Lot of Things To Say. so here goes, a compilation of what we know for a fact from the canon, what I've extrapolated from the visual cues and details, and my theories based on all of that.

Things we know for a fact about Marcille's mother because they were explicitly stated in the manga and supplemental materials:

She was a court mage for a Tall-man kingdom at the southern part of the Northern Continent

Donato, a court historian, fell in love with her because she had lived through the history he was studying, and he courted her for 17 years (age 15 to 32) before getting married

She was a cheerful person who rarely showed extreme emotion and took things as they came

She always cooked a huge meal for Marcille on her birthdays

She remarried a gnome after Donato's death and a short distance away from Marcille's childhood home

Pipi, Marcille's pet bird, was actually older than Marcille and originally belonged to her mother (bird died at 62)

She was extremely heartbroken when Donato died and ultimately ended up instilling a deep fear of mortality in Marcille with her words

the only time she showed extreme emotion in front of her family was when Donato could no longer eat his favourite dish near the end of his life.

She scolded Marcille for being cruel to ants (implying she can have a stern side when needed)

Things that are explicitly shown but mostly through visual cues

She has a very distinctive style of dress always involving a ribbon choker (mirroring Marcille's habit of always wearing a matching choker with any of her outfits that don't cover her neck)

She was almost stereotypically good at housekeeping and traditionally "wifely" things (very frequently depicted wearing an apron or doing some domestic chore when not at work, seems to have been an avid cook).

She knits? (also, note the affectionate smile as she's looking at Donato and Marcille reading a book together in the full panel)

She was as excited for Marcille's milestones as Donato was.

She didn't tell Marcille much about elven food

(there are a couple things that this panel in particular implies:

She lived a good deal of her life (if not being born and raised) in a mainly elven country in the West, implied by her knowing enough of an elven region's cuisine to prefer Tall-man food over it

seems to have a pretty carefree and casual demeanour overall, if this is how she replied to Marcille asking her about it (sounds like she never gave her culinary preferences that much thought to begin with)

slightly related to number 2, it seems like she and Marcille had a fairly casual parent-child dynamic (especially in comparison to the Toudens' memory of their father)

(local elf tastes Italian food once and never goes back))

However, she seems a lot more... serious in most of the other times we see her? Almost like the very stereotypical archetype of a graceful elf.

Subsequent conclusions about her personality:

Usually pretty carefree and cheerful at home, has been a loving and attentive parent throughout Marcille's childhood (while not being so doting that she didn't discipline Marcille).

Slightly more conjectural theories on her personality:

Had a much more graceful and professional personality at work, which would explain the more serious portraits we see of her.

Given that both she and Donato had positions at the royal court, it seems a little odd that she'd go out of her way to do all the housework herself, so maybe she just enjoyed doing it?

Now taping all the evidence together and toeing the line between analysis and fanfiction:

It's clear that she loved Donato very much and was utterly devastated by losing him. But there's one thing that really stuck out to me in what little we see of her:

Doesn't she seem... angry? The way she's gritting her teeth, clutching the tablecloth, and how this is the first and only time we see her eyes opened that wide. In the following panel, you see her being quiet and dejected after her initial outburst. She's still crying very intensely, but her brows are furrowed, and she's not really responding to Donato's affection in her body language.

We're not told the details of how she felt about losing Donato other than that it upset her. But this, to me, implies that she was angry and resented that he was aging, that the end of his life was approaching. An "it's not fair" type of preemptive grief. And if this was the first and last time she cried like this in front of her family, she was either very good at coping in private... or very bad at letting herself feel unpleasant emotions until they become unavoidable and end up overwhelming her.

It's not too remarkable a detail on the surface. It's even reminiscent of what the audience has seen of Marcille. But... when it comes to the big picture, you'd think an elf who voluntarily chose to marry a tall-man and have a half-elf child would have been better prepared for this.

It kind of recontextualizes her cheerfulness to me.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be okay!" (or some variation thereof, depending on what translation you have).

And this is stated to contrast her extreme grief when finally confronting Donato's failing body and eventual death. But I'm wondering if... maybe this optimism was why she was so upset. What if she went into all of it thinking "everything's gonna be okay"? What if she was a little young by elven standards, and just followed her heart thinking that her own resilience would get her through anything?

Of course, only to get completely overwhelmed when she actually loses Donato. She turns into a completely different person. And that's heartbreaking on its own-- but what the audience sees is the effect it had on Marcille. Can you imagine being her, watching your invincible and upbeat mother suddenly lose all the light in her eyes in one go?

I've already made a huge post about how I think Marcille models her "work persona" off her mother, but another thing that stuck with me as I was looking for more details in the manga was this:

copy pasting from the other post i made about it lmao it's like... the second she resigns herself to lifelong pain and terror, there's another portrait of her mother facing her like this. with their heads bowed, in mirrored body language of resignation and despair and sorrow. Except it's posed like Marcille is still looking at her mother but her mother is looking away.

It took me a second to realize, but I think that it's a visual metaphor for the fact that Marcille's mother was the only long-lived role model she had-- and she failed to model healthy grief for her daughter. I don't say this as an accusation or to disparage her as a character, but just as a matter of fact. In her, Marcille was seeing herself older and losing a short-lived spouse or loved one of her own, and all she saw was hopelessness.

But her mother didn't mean to instill hopelessness and terror in her. She wasn't really thinking of how it would truly affect Marcille at all (at least, that's how I'm interpreting her looking down and away from Marcille in the metaphor), she was just sad. And she, in her own way, was trying to protect her daughter and help her prepare for future losses.

What she meant was "loss is inevitable, and you have to learn how to be in pain but live on anyway." What Marcille heard was "loss is inevitable, and you will be scared and hurt for the rest of your life."

Again. Marcille's mother doesn't feature explicitly in the story the way her father does -- but in so many ways, her shadow, her silhouette, her reflection is always hanging over Marcille.

All that to say... headcanon-wise (everything from here on is 100% without evidence lmao), I'd like to think that she matured and realized that she failed Marcille. I imagine her being regretful about it, wanting a chance to fix it but never finding a way to insert herself back into Marcille's life when Marcille is so so so busy becoming the most accomplished mage possible. I imagine her being herself again, now, so many years after her loss and after remarrying -- but with her cheerfulness tempered with a lot more wisdom and the pain of having gone through loss like that. I think the second Marcille actually tells her what happened in the dungeon, she'd want to go running to her daughter again -- if Marcille tells her the full truth instead of just being embarrassed she let things get that far. (oh, the tragedy of her wanting to be more like her mother and an accomplished adult who doesn't need to be babied... being embarrassed to actually tell her mother how much she fucked up...)

There's also the tension of her having remarried -- I know that there's at least a little bit of resentment that Marcille harbours about that, because she's childish like that at heart even if she makes an effort not to externalize it. I think that her mother would be aware of that, potentially adding to her sense of guilt and apprehension at trying to reappear/intrude on Marcille's life. I honestly don't think Marcille has met her stepfather -- or even considers him a stepfather rather than "mama's new husband" and kind of a total stranger. I think she and her mother actively don't talk about it in their correspondence, like an elephant in the room.

but, ultimately, I think her mother is on her side no matter what. Ancient magic? Dark necromancy? Sure, she'll feel guilty and like she was partially responsible for setting Marcille down such a painful path, but she wouldn't care. that's her daughter!! she would've moved back west and been petitioning for her at the court, buying a house right next to the Canaries barracks and visiting her every day that she wasn't on a mission. And if her husband had opinions on Marcille becoming a "dark arts user," he either gets over it or it's divorce with him. Yes, she might have had her optimism completely humbled by losing Donato like that -- but she's still headstrong and self-assured and she doesn't care what people think of her. It's her way or the highway and she's always going to be in Marcille's corner.

(She also needs a name lol. I went with Juno, just to be cute about "Marcille"s closest real life equivalent being Marcella, which is the female version of Marcellus, which in turn is a diminutive of Marcus, which was derived from Mars. Absolutely in love with Marcille potentially being named after Ares/Mars the fucking god of war btw)

[krazys-ass-emporium]

This bitch just cleaned her room, finally.

[foldingfittedsheets]

When deciding who to work for there is a sliding scale of employers that goes from lil mom and pop shops up to corporate monoliths. I have worked at both ends of the spectrum and I can pretty definitively say that tiny businesses are hands down the most insane employers.

The sweet spot is a place that has like 10-20 stores; that’s the best possible work environment. They’ll be polished enough to have protocols that make work structured, but not so bogged down with bureaucracy that nothing can ever get done.

This story is not from that sweet spot. This story is from my time working at Oil and Vinegar. Now, like many little franchise stores, the idea was solid. There was on tap imported olive oil and vinegar and it was really delicious. Top shelf. Unfortunately, each location was like the Wild West because owners varied wildly.

My owner was the human embodiment of Mr. Krabbs. His eyes were just constant dollar signs. Throughout my training he informed me of the price of every single piece of equipment I touched and how much it cost to replace it.

He had cameras set up to watch us, and an app on his phone to access the live feed. He’d call us to ask what we were doing when he’d just checked a camera to make sure we were being honest.

Now, the trouble was he had two locations. His location further south did amazing. It was way more centrally located and got three times the foot traffic. The one I worked in was in the snottiest mall possible in Arizona and consequently the rent was through the roof.

It was not going well for my store. We didn’t get as much traffic, so there was only so much I could do in a day. I could dust, sweep, and wait for customers. I read a lot and was frank when he called to interrogate me. I always asked for additional tasks but he never had any. What could I do to prop up a failing business?

But this man was convinced there was some Secret Reason that the store I was in was doing worse. He crunched numbers, looked at staff, and eventually hit upon the most insane possible solution.

We used too much toilet paper.

We were probably stealing toilet paper! Bleeding him dry one single ply square at a time! How dare we need to use the bathroom?! His south location used half as much toilet paper as we did, we must be thieving little monsters!!!!

Friends. The south location was populated entirely by men. My location had three people on staff who had to sit to pee. It was so blindly transparently the source of the discrepancy but this man was convinced we were making off with toilet paper to bankrupt him.

So he implemented what he believed to be an entirely reasonable response to this base treachery. We were allowed to have one roll of toilet paper. At any given time, one roll was permitted to us. This was so transparently unhinged that we protested but he insisted. If we were low on toilet paper we needed to call him to drop off a roll that he brought from his home. Smiling jovially, he assured us he lived so close by that it would be no problem!

When we needed to call him often for more he started tearing his hair out. What were we using toilet paper for?! Why wasn’t his genius plan to stop our scandalous waste working??!

Finally, the manager, the only man on staff had to pull the owner aside and be like, “Look, man, their bladders are smaller. They need to wipe every time they pee. They need to pee even more on their period. Is this really the hill you want to die on?”

Yes. It was. The manager was fired unrelated reasons and denounced as a traitor. The toilet paper ration lasted until I quit and probably until the store closed six months later.

[msmk11]

Best Friend’s Mom

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy’s best friend)

Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Word count: 5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends’ mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mention of absent parent, light smut

Summary: You get invited to spend spring break with your best friends Tommy and Billy Maximoff and their mother, Wanda. But Wanda is not just any mom you soon discover. She’s a MILF. And god do you want her badly. Only in your wildest dreams could she ever be attracted to you too- or so you think.

A/n: It’s finally here per your votes on my poll! This is only part one of (probably) two however. A) I’ve never written for Wanda before so I’m having a harder time saying what I need to succinctly. B) I have the fattest crush on Wanda so perhaps this is just my rambles. I hope you enjoy!!

When your twin best friends Billy and Tommy had invited you on their beach family vacation over spring break, you had obviously said yes. The thoughts of sand between your toes, the warm sun on your skin, and the calming crash of the waves sent a shiver of excitement down your spine every time you thought of it. Of course, you were also just excited to spend time with your best friends, but the beach was at the forefront of your mind. Though your daydreams had already crafted a vision of perfection for this trip, the reality, surprisingly, far exceeded it. This was all thanks to one sinfully sexy Ms. Maximoff.

From the early budding of your friendship, you knew that Billy and Tommy adored their mother- especially since their father had left them all behind at a young age. Their descriptions made her seem sweet, loving, and remarkably kind. While your first introduction certainly reassured these claims, it was her beauty that struck you. Perhaps in your head you had imagined someone a little more….motherly looking… rather than the mortal goddess before you. With the way her auburn hair fell down past her shoulders in waves, her blue skinny jeans hugged the curve of her waist just right, and her soft, pink lips were always adorned with a smile, you were certain she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

When you, Billy, and Tommy pull up to the beach house in their small gray sedan and a redheaded woman, who you assume to be their mother, comes out, you are dumbfounded to say the least. Before her boys can even get their luggage from the trunk, she sweeps each into a bearhug and exclaims, “hello moya lyubov!”

Their unconvincing protests fall on deaf ears as she continues to smother them in love. You’re sure to tease them about it later.

When Ms. Maximoff breaks away from Billy and Tommy, she turns her attention to you and smiles sweetly. As she makes her way towards you, your heart begins to beat quickly as you realize how beautiful she is.

“Hello, dear,” she greets, “Billy and Tommy have told me all about you.”

Before you can respond, she too pulls you in for a hug. The burn of her touch, even through your shirt, is almost too much to bear, and her flowery perfume that fills your nostrils makes your head feel all woozy.

As she pulls away you can feel your cheeks burning and you try to act calm despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Maximoff, and thank you for letting me stay with you all this week.”

“Oh honey, no. Please don’t call me Ms. Maximoff, it makes me feel old. Wanda is just fine. And the pleasure is all mine, really. I’ve been eager to meet you ever since you became friends with my boys at the start of college.”

“Well, I’ve uh- been eager to meet you too. Billy and Tommy speak very highly of you.”

Wanda nearly coos as she turns to her sons brightly, “Awe moya lyubov, you two are too sweet.”

Your best friends flush red with embarrassment and the glares they shoot you as their mother hugs them again let you know they’ll berate you later for making them “look uncool.” Finally, Wanda pulls away and she urges you all to grab your stuff and follow her into the house.

Once inside, Billy and Tommy kick off their shoes haphazardly and start down the hall to the bedroom they’re sharing (so you can have a room to yourself). You, conversely, slip your shoes off gently and leave them by the door neatly. Wanda waits by your side and then motions for you to follow her once you’re done.

On your way to your room, Wanda gives you a mini tour. You pass through the small kitchen with light wooden floors, white cabinets, and seafoam blue walls. The living room is similarly beachy and charming, with big glass doors opening onto a wooden porch in the back and a smattering of brightly colored furniture organized around the room. At the end of the hall from the living room sits three doors, each leading into a separate room.

“Here we go, honey. Your room is this door on the left, the bathroom is the door in front of us, and my bedroom is here on the right. I hope you don’t mind being my neighbor and sharing a bathroom with me, but I figured it’d be better for the boys to have the master this week since they’re sharing a space,” Wanda tells you.

“No of course not Ms. M- Wanda. I feel bad that Billy and Tommy have to share, though. I honestly don’t mind sleeping on the couch!”

Wanda reacts as though you’ve just slapped her, “Oh honey, no! I’d never make a guest sleep on the couch! I want to make this place as comfortable for you as possible. Plus, the boys will be just fine. They spent the first half of their lives sharing a room, they’ll manage.”

You chuckle a little and smile kindly at her, “Well, thank you, seriously, I appreciate it.”

She waves her hand as if it’s nothing and then motions for you to go see your room, “I’m going to go finish up dinner honey, but let me know if you need anything.”

Wanda saunters off down the hall and you curse her for even walking sexily. Shaking yourself out of a daze, you go inside your room and promptly shut the door behind you. You drop your bag on the floor and then throw yourself on top of the fluffy, blue comforter, groaning into the mattress. You really hope you can survive this trip.

*****

It seems you must’ve fallen asleep on the comfy bed that feels more like a cloud, because suddenly you are jostled awake by a body landing on top of you. You let out an oomph as the air is expelled from your lungs and the weight of Tommy’s body settles on top of you.

“Tommy, you big lug,” you groan, “get off of me.”

You push the boy off of you and he rolls onto his back, “Had to wake you up somehow, you freak. I kept prodding you and nothing happened besides your continued snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” You protest, propping yourself up on your elbow and looking at him.

“Do too” he teases, “mouth open and all.” He then opens his mouth dramatically and lets out an obnoxiously loud snore.

You smack his stomach a little and he groans. In retaliation, he sweeps your elbow out from under you, forcing you to fall flat on your back again.

“Prick,” you grumble.

“Hey you should be a lot nicer to me, you know. I could’ve left you here to sleep and starve.”

You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, “I doubt your mom would allow that.”

The brunette snorts, “Touché.” He stands up and nods his head towards the door, “let’s go eat.”

You and Tommy make your way down the hall to the kitchen, playfully teasing and shoving each other a little on the way. When the longer-haired brother gives you an especially playful push into the kitchen, you nearly fall right in front of Wanda. You’re a little more than embarrassed, so you try to hide your face from her by turning back towards Tommy and glaring. He’s smirking until he’s not- when Wanda gently chides him for “being rude to the guest.”

“Mom she’s our friend, she can take it,” Tommy reminds her.

“Plus,” you add, “I can take either of them, easily, any day. I was just caught off guard there.”

“Really now?” Billy challenges.

You hum in confirmation.

“Fine, then I suggest a game of chicken after dinner.”

“Who’d be our fourth player?” you ask, confused.

“I will,” Wanda answers with a slight smirk, “I love a good challenge. And I’d love to see you beat my boys.”

“Oh you’re so on, Mom,” Tommy answers with a grin.

The twins look at each other with evil, cocky smirks on their face, and you can tell that they’re confident they’re going to win. You look at Wanda nervously because a) you don’t want to lose to the twins and b) you don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of her. Her confident smirk, however, so similar to her sons, eases your fears just a little.

They come storming back after dinner, however, when you first see Wanda in a bikini. Though you wouldn’t say it’s skimpy by any means, for goodness sake she’s around her sons, it still certainly shows a lot of skin. The butterflies are beating around aggressively in your stomach as you admire the red swimsuit she’s wearing- the color compliments her skin tone so very well, the top shows just enough cleavage to leave something to the imagination, and the bottoms hang low on her hips, flaunting her soft, white stomach.

You become even more nervous when you realize that you are going to have to sit on top of Wanda’s shoulders. While Billy and Tommy jump into the pool, you cautiously discard your towel on a chair and turn to Wanda, “I didn’t even think about the fact that I’d have to be on your shoulders. We can just call off the game, I’ll probably be too heavy for you.”

The redhead shakes her head and chuckles, stepping a little closer to you, “Honey, I know how chicken works. I wouldn’t have offered to play if I didn’t think I could carry you. I’m a lot stronger than I look, you know.”

You want to believe her, but you are just so nervous about hurting her that you can only weakly smile and nod.

“Hey, are we playing chicken, or are you two too chicken?” Billy calls out mockingly.

“Oh we’re more than ready, boys,” Wanda answers confidently, hands on her hips.

She walks forward and slides down into the pool, the turquoise water riding up to her waist. She beckons you over to the edge, “I’ll stand here and you can hop on, since I know you’re a little nervous about getting on my shoulders.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Wanda turns around and you step forward. Tentatively, you hook one leg over her right shoulder and her hand immediately comes up to grab your thigh. You tense at the skin to skin contact and it sends a little shiver up your spine. Thankfully, Wanda can’t see your face, so she hopefully just assumes that you're nervous about getting on her shoulders and not for….. other….. reasons.

“You’ve got it, honey,” She encourages you sweetly.

You quickly lift your other leg up and hook it around her left shoulder. She grabs your other thigh tightly and squeezes it, as if reassuring you.

Problem one million- Wanda being this strong is really hot, adding to your already insanely high level of attraction towards her. You fear you might pass out on the spot.

“Good to go?” The redhead asks you softly, craning her neck a little to look up at you. Her green eyes are soft but determined and they send a surge of confidence through you, “Yes, I’m ready to take them down.”

Wanda easily wades through the water over to Billy and Tommy, who have situated themselves with Tommy as the anchor and Billy on top. You look your opponent in the eye and smirk, sending him a playful glare, “You’re on, Maximoff.”

Billy only scoffs at you cockily and then waves you forward, challenging you to go up against him. Wanda and Tommy move in towards one another and you stick your arms out, bracing for Billy’s attack. He comes in swinging, bringing his right arm down to your side trying to shove you off. You are braced for it, though, and Wanda’s strong grip keeps you in place. You retaliate by grabbing his wrists, simultaneously trying to keep him from hitting you and also jostle him around. After a few seconds of back and forth, Billy rips his left arm free, the force causing you to wobble a little.

“I got you, honey,” Wanda calls up to you when she hears the sharp breath you take.

You shake it off and head towards Billy with double the amount of determination. Letting go of his other wrist, you go for the shoulders and give him a hard shove. This alone does not push Billy off of Tommy’s shoulders. However, the former twin’s movement throws the latter twin off balance, sending them plummeting backwards into the water. They land with a loud splash and you and Wanda cheer loudly. When the boys come up for air they are spluttering and groan at your victory.

“You two are stronger than you look,” Tommy concedes.

“Never underestimate your mother,” Wanda chides teasingly. She then looks up at you, “do you want me to take you back over to the edge to hop off?”

Your newfound victory, especially with Wanda on your team, has caused your confidence to soar. You shake your head, “No that’s okay, you can just drop me in the water.”

The redhead smiles sweetly, “If you insist.”

Before you have a second to think, she is lurching backwards, sending you both crashing into the water just as the twins had. The water is much colder than you anticipated and it overcomes your senses as you flail around. When you breach the surface you let out a gasp of air and shake the water from your eyes, “Holy fuck that’s cold!” you shout, then immediately cringe for cursing in front of Wanda.

Luckily she only chuckles, an evil glint in her eye, “You asked to be thrown in, honey. I was only doing what you asked.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” you answer with a playful pout.

She only laughs again, her head thrown back a little, and it’s quite the sight to see.

*****

The next morning, you wake to soft, yellow sunbeams falling across your face. The sound of gentle waves can be heard just slightly through your window at the back of the house and you sigh contentedly. You could get used to this. After laying sprawled across your bed for an undetermined amount of time, you finally decide it’s time to get up. You wander down the hall into the kitchen, on the hunt for food, and find Wanda sitting at the kitchen table, book in one hand, coffee in another, clad in a silk, white slip nightgown.

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?” She asks sweetly.

“Like a baby.”

“I’m glad to hear it. What can I make you for breakfast?” Wanda asks, already rising from her chair.

“Oh, Wanda, no. Please. You don’t need to make anything. I can just snack on something for the pantry. I don’t usually have much for breakfast anyways.”

Wanda tsks at you and waves you off, “Well that just won’t do honey. It’s more important than ever for you to fuel your body at this age- what with all the studying, busy work schedules and… other things.”

Wanda winks at you then and you choke on your spit a little. Had she just implied…? No, she couldn’t have. But…

“Yes, well, school and work keep me busy enough to not have time for other things, Wanda. And I make up for a light breakfast with more filling meals later.”

It seems as though Wanda ignores the latter fact as she asks how you like your eggs and pulls out a frying pan.

“Well, honey, I really can’t believe what you’re saying. Someone as beautiful and sweet as you must be overwhelmed with social obligations- parties, friends, dating.”

You try to hide the blush on your cheeks from Wanda’s flattery, “No really, Wanda, I don’t have all that many. And I’m happy with my small group of friends.”

“You know,” Wanda starts, turning towards you as the eggs cook, resting her back against the counter, “I have to ask, and I hope you’ll excuse me for wondering, but I wanted to know if you were seeing or were interested in one of my boys. You just seem awfully close and I can’t help but wonder…”

You burst out in laughter at the heinous suggestion and Wanda’s eyebrows raise in bewilderment, “Oh god, no. Never in a million years would I date them.”

Wanda purses her lips and you realize how that sounded, “Please don’t take that the wrong way, Wanda. You’ve raised such lovely boys, you know. And I love them dearly, but not like that. They’re like my brothers. And even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t go for them. Or any guy for that matter… I like women.”

All the confusion and maybe even a little defensiveness drains from Wanda’s face at your confession and she visibly relaxes. She turns back to the eggs and picks up the pan, “I see. Well, the boys are grateful to have you in any way they can.” She walks over and sets the plate down in front of you, “And that makes me pretty grateful too.”

As she stays behind you, Wanda tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

“My pleasure, Detka.”

*****

The tension is so thick it is unbearable as you sit on a chair across from Wanda. At this point, you know it isn’t hot enough outside for you to be feeling this flushed. Rather, the way Wanda keeps looking over at you not so sneakily as she nurses her wine is leaving you all hot and bothered. When she takes another sip you are entranced by the way her soft, red lips wrap around the rim of the glass. And when she pulls the cup away, a drop of the wine is still on her lips. You nearly gasp as her tongue darts out, seemingly in slow motion, to lick it up. At this point, you know your staring is obvious, but Wanda just looks so pretty in that sundress, and one too many glasses of wine has left you feeling a little reckless.

“Want another sip?” Wanda muses teasingly, pointing the glass towards you.

“Oh no, I’m okay, Wanda, thank you.” You answer softly.

“Come on detka,” she says huskily, “just come have one more sip. I don’t think I can finish it alone.”

Really, you can never say no to this woman, so you oblige, standing from your chair and walking over to sit down next to her. Her perfume wafts over you as she leans in and hands you the glass, and you feel woozy.

You take a sip of what little wine is left in the glass and swallow as Wanda watches you the whole time. You turn to the redhead and hand her the glass. She sets it on the table without once breaking eye contact with you.

“Oh Detka, you have a little drop of wine on your lip. Let me get that right-“

She reaches out and cups your cheek. Instead of wiping it away with her thumb like you think she will, she leans in and captures your bottom lip between your own. She sucks on it softly and you nearly moan. Before you can really process what’s happening, she’s pulled away, a knowing smirk on her face, “There baby, all better now.”

“W-Wanda- I.” You stutter.

“Hmm?” She asks, sickeningly sweetly.

“Can you do that again?”

“Do what again, baby?”

You almost whine at her teasing, “Kiss me, Wanda. Please.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she whispers, already pressing her lips to yours again.

You sigh deeply as the flame rekindles in your belly and your heart beats faster. Your kisses are fast and sloppy, your tongues battling for dominance. Keeping your lips on hers you shuffle, straddling your legs on either side of her lap as you wrap your arms around her shoulders.

Wanda groans and grabs your hips tightly, digging her nails into the slight bit of bare skin showing as your shirt rides up.

She tastes like chocolate strawberries and wine and you chase her lips like you’ve been starved for days. Wanda just smells so good, and feels so good, and tastes so good that you’re insatiable. Unknowingly, you rock your hips a little, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through you at the friction between your legs. You moan into her mouth and try it again, this time rolling your hips more aggressively. Combined with Wanda’s kissing, it feels really good.

“Careful Detka, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Wanda warns lowly.

You pull away suddenly, gasping for air, “Wanda, I want this. I- I want you right now. I need you.”

She looks at you intently, those green eyes both soft and loving while also glazed with lust, “you sure, baby? There’s no going back after this.”

“Please,” you say, this time really whining.

“Start with my thigh,” she orders.

You lean back in and kiss Wanda again like before, but this time with the repeated motion of you humping her thigh, chasing your own pleasure. Wanda’s hands slowly travel down your sides, one stopping to grope at your breasts while the other makes it’s way to cup your ass. The added stimulation to your ass and tits makes you moan into her mouth again.

She pulls away and shushes you quietly, “gotta be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear.”

You nod meekly and bite your lip to keep any more moans from slipping out. Wanda takes the chance to place her lips elsewhere, assaulting your neck and exposed collarbone with bites, licks, and sucking. Before you know it, you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, tension building in your belly. Maybe it’s the pace of your hips, or Wanda just has a sense for these things, but she can tell you’re close. Before you can get there, however,

“Wake up. Stop sleeping the day away.”

You are rather rudely awakened, you think, by Billy. His wet hair drips onto your face as he hovers over you, “Come swim with us and quit being boring.”

“But I’m getting my tan on,” you whine.

“You can do that in the water,” he retorts.

When you don’t make any sign of movement, Billy huffs, “You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?”

Before you can protest, the boy grabs your waist and pulls you up, flipping you over his shoulder.

“Billy,” you screech, “Put me down!!”

He ignores you and starts off towards the ocean. You smack his back and flail your legs but that doesn’t stop him. Before you know it you are met with a blast of ice cold water as he flings you into the salty ocean. When you burst to the surface spluttering you send Billy the biggest glare.

“You’re dead meat Maximoff.”

You quickly wade through the water towards Billy and lunge forward. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down into the water with you. You’re a mix of flailing limbs under the water. You get an elbow to Billy’s face and him a blow to your stomach before you both swim upwards and gasp for air. Tommy is there, laughing at you both, so you and Billy share a sneaky look before grabbing him by the ankles and pulling him down too.

Though you may have been peeved at Billy for throwing you into the water, it does feel rather nice on your hot skin. It also curbed your rather lusty thoughts of your best friends’ mother. The three of you stay out in the ocean for awhile, play fighting, throwing a football and diving for seashells. It makes you feel like a bit of a kid again, and you notice the recent stress of exams, school, and work fading away.

After a few hours at the beach, the three of you make your way back to the house. You drag your gear- sunscreen, towels, snorkels, and the likes to the back porch and collapse on some of the patio furniture. Tommy wanders inside for a moment and returns with a few beers for you all to share. As you sip and make light conversation, Wanda appears from the house, a tray of snacks in hand.

“How was the beach moya lyubov?” She asks, setting down the tray in front of you three.

“It was great, Mom. You should’ve joined us,” Tommy replies before stuffing a few carrots in his mouth.

She takes the fourth chair, which happens to be next to yours, “I wanted you all to have your fun. Plus, I’ve been to that beach plenty of times.”

“Next time though,” Billy tells her and Wanda smiles a little.

“Yes, next time.”

You reach forward to grab a cracker off the tray, and you’re not unaware of the way Wanda’s eyes follow you. You lean back again and munch happily on your cracker, trying to not be self conscious under the woman’s stare.

Suddenly, Wanda reaches out and pulls on the strap of your bikini top, “I like this swimsuit, honey. Where’d you get it? I’m looking to buy some new suits so I can throw out my old ones.”

Wanda’s deliberate touch excites you, and you keep your legs crossed to hide the way your thighs sort of squeeze together.

“Uh Target, I think. The boys got their trunks there too.”

She hums softly, “It’s so hard to find flattering suits nowadays don’t you think? Either they’re two thin pieces of fabric that cover nothing at all or they’re boxy, ugly one pieces that do no one any favors.”

You groan loudly, “tell me about it. I think Billy and Tommy almost left me behind when we went shopping because of how long I was taking. Not that I blame them, though I told them it’s also not my fault there are so few good options.”

“Mom, one swimsuit had fur,” Billy says with a shudder.

“Another looked like a disco ball,” Tommy adds, “like are you going to the beach or a strip club?”

You all burst out laughing at the sadly true comparison.

“All I can say is that I really was lucky to find this swimsuit.”

And as you lean forward to grab another cracker you swear you hear Wanda mutter under her breath, “Lucky for me too.”

*****

Much of the rest of your afternoon had been spent on that back patio talking, snacking and playing cards. Dinner had been light, and with a few booze in your body you were feeling pretty good. You’d wandered off to shower after dinner, wanting to get the sunscreen and sand off your body. The hot water and soap in your hair feels amazing, and you are appreciative of the privacy to process all of the thoughts and feelings from the day. You still haven't gotten over the comment you are sure Wanda had made earlier. A part of you wonders if you’d just made it up, your horny mind so desperate to believe that she finds you attractive too. But even though it was just above a whisper, the words echo in your mind loud and clear- “lucky for me too”. How could you make that up?

It feels wrong and, frankly, rather inappropriate to pursue your suspicions further. Wanda could’ve meant anything by what she said.

Maybe she was grateful that you bought that swimsuit, so now she knew where to buy hers too?

Maybe she was grateful she didn’t have to be subject to some ugly swimsuit you’d have been forced to wear.

Or maybe. No. You couldn’t even let yourself consider the possibility of Wanda being attracted to you. That would be a bad idea that would only get you in trouble.

You decide there is only one way to solve the problem.

After your shower, you slip out of the bathroom into your room only scantily clad in your small towel. You firmly shut the door behind you and drop your towel, making your way onto your soft bed. You lay on your back, head resting against the pillows, and spread your legs a little. You’ve been desperate to ease the ache between your legs for hours and you can’t wait any longer. You hope that maybe, if you do this, your horniness will dissolve and you can go about your business the rest of your trip happily.

As your hand trails lower between your legs, you sigh at the pressure very much needed to cure the intense ache. It feels good, really, but you only wish it was Wanda’s hand instead of your own. You shut your eyes and your breaths become heavier as you indulge for a moment, imagining that Wanda was here. You think about the way she’d say your name huskily, how her perfume would invade your nose as she held you close, how her fingers would know exactly how to make you feel good, and in no time, you’ve reached your high. Though you try to be quiet, you can’t help the semi-loud pleas of her name that leave your lips as pleasure wracks through your body.

You collapse back against your pillows, panting and your hands at your side. You can only revel in your bliss for a few moments before there is a knock on your door. You scramble up, your heart beating fast in your chest, feeling as if you’d been caught. You throw on your pajama t-shirt at the end of your bed, and it just barely covers your ass. But you figure it will work well enough to answer the door. You rush over and pull it open, and are shocked to find Wanda on the other side.

“Hey, Wanda, what’s up?” You ask breathlessly.

It’s then that you notice how her pupils are dilated, and that she has this look in her eyes. One so reminiscent of your dream.

“You know if you needed help, Detka, you could’ve just asked. I’m more than happy to help someone as pretty as you.”

[fantasylandloser]

marriage pact pt.2

summary: the besties are getting used to their new relationship

Warnings: smut, mdni, oral (fem recieving), mentions of dry humping, mentions of implied bi!reader, Stevie's happy trail makes another appearance, public sex?? (not actually penetration), lmk if i missed anything

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

A/N: thank you to all the people who showed part one so much love, especially everyone who had v unhinged things to say (i love you the most) also i gave us a cool ass, loving mom

part 1

*****

“I’m just saying, we should talk about it eventually.” Steve tells you, unable to conceal the smirk on his face. He stood in the doorway of your bathroom watching you evade questions he threw at you about your past hookups. Essentially he didn’t really care, he was the last person in Hawkins who should have the privilege of caring about who other people hookup with. But he was a little curious, considering your face went up in flames as soon as he brought it up. Also maybe slightly jealous.

You huff at Steve’s persistence, dropping your mascara back into the bag. “Are we going to talk about all the people you’ve hooked up with Steve?” Annoyance laced your tone at his line of questioning, but he knew your annoyance was just poorly concealed embarrassment. 

The two of you were supposed to be getting ready to meet up with Robin, Eddie, Nancy, and Jonathan when he randomly asked you about the past guys you’ve been with. He was already dressed and now he was waiting for you to be, curiously watching your every step. 

“We’ve talked about me for years. Everyone in Hawkins has talked about me.” He laughs, a little self deprecating. “We’ve never talked about you, and we don’t have to.” He’s moving in on you arms, caging you into the counter, shaggy hair sweeping from his forehead. “I’m just curious, not judging you.” Your eyes meet his sincere ones in the mirror, the kicked puppy look he’s been giving you since you were kids working like a charm.

“Billy Hargrove fingered me in our Anatomy class, junior year.” You start, your face red as you shift your eyes, from Steve’s shocked ones. “That was before he..”You trail off not knowing exactly how to word your next thoughts.

“Beat me to a pulp?” Steve offers, with a sardonic grin.

You nod with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” You really mean it, too. You felt so bad after you saw Steve like that, bruised up by a guy that had been touching you.

“Not judging, remember.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and despite the ugly feeling of jealousy sitting in the pit of his stomach he really wanted you to continue.

“I always knew he had a thing for you.” He says, thinking of all the times he’d catch Billy staring at you. He’s pretty sure that’s half the reason he beat his ass. Steve would always have an arm around your shoulder or one of your legs in his lap. 

You go back to distracting yourself as you put your eyeliner on. “And don’t be weird about this later,” You say, which gives him warning to brace himself. “Eddie took my virginity in the back of his van senior year.” You say it so casually that Steve’s sure he didn’t hear you correctly. 

“Eddie?” Steve says, his face wearing his shock. “You mean like Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?” You slap his arm at that.

“Don’t call him that.” You defend, which Steve rolls his eyes at, knowing Eddie loved the nickname.

“Our friend, Eddie? Who, we happen to be seeing tonight?” Obviously too flabbergasted to remember his no judgment rule, you quickly remind him. 

“I thought this was a judgment free zone.” You murmur, too mortified to even look at him. This brings Steve back to himself.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. Didn’t see that coming.” Steve’s hands are on his hips and you know he’s about two seconds from pacing a hole through a floor to wrap his head around it. You can’t help but think he’s adorable for stressing himself out about a question he asked you to answer.

“Yeah we hooked up for a while I guess, but then-” You’re cut off by your own thoughts, sheepish at the thought of your next words until you look at Steve’s puzzled expression. “Then Tommy threw that huge party and you got drunk off your ass and told me we were gonna get married and I just-” You shrug, pretending to be oh so busy with your eyelash curler. “Broke it off with him the next day. Didn’t wanna lead him on, when my head was… elsewhere.” Thinking of you. You tell Steve all this without making a morsel or eye contact. It should really scare Steve how good you are at playing casual with your feelings. 

“Oh, honey.” The kiss he plants on your shoulder is sweet, as he secures his arms around you. “I really love you.” Steve whispers, and it’s not the first time he’s said it, but in this context it is. The words are so much heavier after the shift in dynamic between the two of you.

“I love you too.” Again you say it so unbothered, so naturally, that Steve would think you didn’t mean it if he couldn’t feel the way your pulse quickened. 

“So, after Eddie?” He prods. You take a second like you’re contemplating telling him. 

“If I tell you, you can’t tell Robin.” Steve looks confused but agrees regardless. “You can’t tell anyone.” You reiterate. 

“Okayy, based on what you’ve already told me I’m not sure how it could get worse.” Steve says. “But I’m not judging.’ He adds after his little sentence. 

“Last year, Tammy Thompson, once.” It’s all you say before Steve understands and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

“I don’t know you at all.” He states dramatically. 

“In my defense..” you began, “The only reason I didn’t tell you was because like right after I had been talking to Robin and told her that I went to the mall with her and then, she randomly mentioned that she used to have the hugest crush on her. And then she told me that the two of you hooked up before and it was weird. Because I never in a million years thought we would have any overlap.” By the time you’re done with your explanation, Steve is still looking at you in shock.

“You don’t tell me anything.” He lies, unaware of the pout that’s formed on his face.

“I tell you everything important.” You counter. You look like you’re thinking, biting your bottom lip nervously. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal for you.”

Steve is all over you before you can overthink any further, and he’d never tell you but you look like you’re about to launch into tears. “Baby it’s not a big deal… I’m just surprised I didn’t know this about you.” He finally understands some of your hesitancy about opening up about your sex life. You were scared to be judged, by him of all people. 

“That was the shortest list ever, if it was me we would have been standing here for hours.” He jokes, it's another self deprecating jab and it’s one you can’t ignore. 

“Stop doing that. Be nice to yourself.” You scold lightly. 

“It’s true.” You knew Steve was no longer a fan of his own promiscuity. You know that he had some regrets about it, but you couldn’t for the life of you understand why.

“It’s hot.” When the words leave your lips, you find yourself turning around in his arms, tilting your head up to get a better look at him. You meet his eyes, watching the bewildered expression on his face.

“It’s really hot for me, that my boyfriend is more experienced than me. Now.. you can teach me what you know.” You elaborate. Steve’s eyes are watching your lips intently.

“Call me that again.” He requests, his voice gruff. You hold his gaze even though your entire body is on fire from the sudden intensity.

“My boyfriend.” You say softly. The first time you acknowledge him as such. He’s leaning in to kiss you when you duck under his arm, not allowing him to smudge your newly done make up or make you any later than you know you are.

“We’re late.” You remind him, grabbing your shoes. 

“Fucking tease.”

*****

Your night out with Steve and your friends, paled in comparison to waking up to him. He’s holding you tightly against him. No shirt on his chest, per usual. A large hand splayed under your shirt and against your stomach. His heat is almost too much for you and you consider rolling away briefly but that’s the last thing you want. 

Without ever opening your eyes or moving, you flail your legs to kick the blanket off you, only pausing when you hear a throaty chuckle vibrating beneath you. You freeze realizing you’d been caught looking silly.

“You hot?” He asks, ever so attentive. Usually when the two of you slept in bed together, there was a respectful amount of space between you, now your limbs were intertwined and your heart beats synced. 

“Mhm.” You hum, still half sleep. You wouldn’t know it but Steve woke up about thirty minutes before you and he was also feeling like the bed had turned into a sauna overnight, but he’d rather burn to death than wake you up. 

Still groggy from sleep, you whine when Steve removes himself from you to turn on the fan and remove the covers the rest of the way off of you. Much to your relief. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” He tells you, letting you know he wasn’t coming back to bed. You were unsure of how he did that. Getting up as soon as he woke up. You were more of a wake up and rot in bed for two more hours kind  of girl.

You hadn’t realized, you’d drifted back off to sleep until Steve’s waking you up. “Wanna get up for me, so we can spend some time together?” He offers.

“We could go play basketball at the gym.” He tries again when you don’t budge. This has you perking up slightly. For a reason unknown to him, every time, even in high school, if he mentioned anything to do with basketball you would be there. At first he thought you wanted to play, especially since you proved yourself to be useful on the court, but when he mentioned it to you, you looked disturbed at the idea. 

You’re rolling out of bed without answering, but he knows that is your answer and you’re just adjusting to the morning again. So he goes on making sure to cook you a good breakfast. 

When you finally emerge from the bathroom, freshly showered you find Steve behind the stove looking very boyfriendish. You can’t help circling your arms around his waist as you inhale his scent.

“Morning’” There’s soft music playing from his phone but other than that the house is quiet. 

“Good Morning. Baby.” You grin into his shoulder, feeling oddly domestic..

After eating breakfast with Steve, you made your way to the gym. You’re stopped a million times because this is Hawkins and everyone knows Steve, the once golden boy basketball star, and you who graduated top of your class with a long list of extracurriculars. But most people still only referred to you when speaking about Steve and that was okay with you.

Playing with Steve is never actually about winning for you. The win is seeing Steve like this. Sweaty. In his zone. So fucking focused. You were competitive everywhere else, but on the basketball court, you were all about Steve. He played less now that you were older, so when he offered you couldn’t help but jump at the chance.

You’re barely paying attention to the game because Steve is everywhere. You’re losing really badly even though he’s taking it easy on you. You don’t care.

“Where’s your mind at, honey?” He asks, dribbling the ball he just stole from you and shooting it. You pretend to be frustrated, pretend like you actually care if you lose, like you’re actually giving your best. Steve knows better, but he doesn’t push it, figuring you were just tired still. 

When a group of guys Steve played basketball with came into the gym, begging ‘king’ steve to join a game with them, Steve almost declined until you made some comment about being tired and going to sit on the bleachers for a break.

You knew the real show was about to start, and that he’d love a chance to show the guys from high school how he’s still got it. Steve’s gearing all the way up when they start picking teams, and you know based on the line up it’s going to be an aggressive game.

You’re dazed while you watch him play for the next hour. He’s concentrating hard, yelling out an instruction to his other teammates, in charge, sweating so hard that he keeps lifting up his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead and revealing that happy trail. Your composure is crumbling quickly. 

And you don’t realize the way you’re looking at him even though you know you’re thirsting hard. He sees though. About halfway through the game when he’s checking on you during a time out. You give him your water bottle to drink out of even though you hate sharing germs, run your fingers through his sweaty hair, and give him two kisses despite the fact that he knows he tastes like sweat, and that you have an audience. 

After that he realizes how hard you’re watching him and he knows he has to show out for the end of the game. Everytime he glances at you, you look so invested. Like you used to in high school when you suddenly became interested in basketball again after a long hiatus during your pre teen years. Except now there’s a new detail that Steve has noticed. You’re squeezing your thighs together so hard, he thinks you’re about to burst. He can’t help but wonder how long you’ve been that way and if that was the reason you’re so intrigued with basketball, with no interest in playing. 

Steve made sure to win. Made sure he earned every filthy thing he was going to do to you. When he walks up to you, you don’t realize that you’ve been caught. Not when he’s dragging you behind him, not even when he opens the door to the men’s locker room, ushering you inside. It’s when he locks the door with you against it that your brain finally kickstarts into realizing what’s happening. 

“Steve we’re gonna get caught-” You start but your voice is lodged in your throat when his fingers dip into your shorts. You know what he finds when he does, and if you didn’t the smirk on his face would have told you. 

“All this from watching me play, honey.” The condescending lilt to his voice, has your brain turning to mush in the best way. That mixed with the way he’s running his knuckles over your  folds. 

“Steve”  You try again, more firm when you hear voices passing from outside the door, but your voice just turns into a whimper, as you try to cope with the way he’s touching you. 

“Shut up for me, so I can focus.” He shushes, yanking your shorts down. You gasp when he does so, but step out of them nonetheless when he gestures for you to do so. This is his first time touching you like this since you dry humped him for all he was worth in the family video parking lot and you’re curious about where he’s going with this. 

He grabs your panties, balling them up in his hand before coming back up to you. “Open your mouth.” You do without a second thought, letting him stuff the underwear into your mouth.

“Fuck you’re a good girl.” He notes before dropping to his knees. “Prettiest pussy, I’ve ever seen.” And he’s not talking to you really but to your pussy. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder before going in, licking and slurping at you like a starved man.

You’re pretty sure it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. He’s so sloppy about it and you love every second.

When he leans down a bit to fuck your hole open with his tongue, his nose nudges your clit. Your moans and whimpers are concealed by the makeshift gag, but the way your hand flys to Steve’s hair to hold him in place lets him know exactly the effect he’s having on you.

He chuckles when he feels you clenching up on his tongue, already so close and he’s just barely touched you. He presses you deeper into the door when he feels your knees buckling, moaning into your cunt at the feeling of you tugging his hair. 

Steve wishes he didn’t need you to be quiet. He wishes he could hear every single one of your whimpers and moans. Hear you calling him ‘Stevie’ in that whiny little voice, but he also knows he doesn’t want anyone else to hear you. Not when you’re all his.

You tumble over the edge pretty quickly, tears cascading down your face, which is the first thing Steve sees when he stands back up, licking his lips. He’s rubbing your overstimulated clit, when he pulls the damp panties out your mouth, releasing all the built up sounds from you. 

“Aw, honey.” He coos, wiping away the tears with your panties. He’s fucking filthy. He kisses you after that, so tenderly that you almost forget how he’s toying with you.

“Stevie..” There it is. Steve thinks to himself. He kisses you again trying to hush your moans.

“You like watching me play, sweetheart? That turns you on?” He asks, still massaging your clit.

“So much.” You admit. Steve wants to laugh at how gone you are, but he’s affected just as much as you.

“Not very nice, that you didn’t tell me.” He says. 

“M’sorry, Stevie.” You’re getting too loud and Steve has to shush you as he hears voices in the hallway, suddenly remembering where you are.

“It’s okay baby, you gonna cum for me?” As soon as he suggests it, he knows it's coming and his lips are back on yours, silencing your moans.

******

“Dude, why are you staring at me?”  Steve asks you, his face red. You stared at him all the way home from the gym. You stared at him when you got home and it had been an hour later, both of you showered and supposed to watch a movie, and you were still staring. 

“I just think you’re kinda rude.” You say.

“I’m rude?” Steve asks, flabbergasted wondering what he could have possibly done in such a short period of time. His mouth hanging open.

‘“Yes because I have had, I want to say maybe like three- four orgasms with other people, in the span of multiple years and you’re telling me this whole time you knew how to do that twice in the span of not even like ten minutes.” Steve’s once red face was now taken over by a cocky grin. 

“Like dude. How did you do that? I’ve never done that before.” You can’t even bring yourself to care that you’re inflating his huge ego. You’re genuinely confused and you’re thinking it has to be witchcraft.

“It’s easy when you’re that turned on.” He tells you, but you shake your head.

“I’m always that turned on.” You dismiss, making him laugh at how genuine you sound when you say it. 

“Always?” He asked, to which you nod. 

“You walk around here shirtless every morning. Of course I am.” You say simply, and Steve can’t help but be surprised at your sudden frankness.  “And even then I can’t even make myself cum twice. Especially not that fast.”

“So, let me get this right.” Steve starts with a mischievous grin. “You’re saying when you play with yourself, after seeing me shirtless you can’t make yourself cum twice?” He’s teasing you for your slip up and you know it. You can’t help rolling your eyes.

“That’s what I said, Steven.” You say playfully, your eyes narrowed. 

His eyes narrow back at you before he’s tackling you to the couch, tickling you. Laughing at your shrieks, and the sight of you trying to wriggle away from him.

“I’m sorry!” You let out in between gasps for air and laughter. When Steve finally lets up you pinch him for being unfair. 

When you finally catch your breath, you realize Steve is staring at you with a look that can only be described as adoring. 

“Here you go, again.” You say with pretend exasperation, and shaking your head. You’re only teasing him, so that you yourself don’t turn into a pile of mush like always. Steve rolls his eyes at you, realizing just how much he’s missed your banter, these last couple days. You’d gone shy on him, when getting used to the changes in your relationship and he was glad to see that your sass was back in full swing.

“Come give me a kiss.” He insists, gesturing to his lap. 

“Why are you always trying to get me into your lap?’ You ask before settling down on top of him anyway. Nothing sexual about it, as you press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before trying to move again. 

“I like you here.” He says before pulling you back down on top of him to get another one. “If that’s how you rush touching yourself, no wonder you can’t make yourself cum.” He jabs, even though that’s not what you said. 

You’re about to respond, when you hear someone clear their throat. “Mom!” you yelp in surprise, practically flying off of Steve’s lap.

“Well this is an interesting way to be welcomed home.” Your mom looks almost amused at the display in front of her. The other part is as shocked as you feel, knowing she was home way earlier than she was supposed to be.

“How long were you standing there?” You ask, mortified, You’re seconds away from having the worst meltdown of your life. 

“Long enough to know that you should invest in a vibrator. “ She goads, sending Steve a look. He’s redder than a tomato, knowing that the woman who’s known him since before he was ten heard him say that. 

Your mom is way chiller than she should be, considering the circumstances, but she’s always been that way. Unbothered and entertained.  If that was your dad standing there, you both know this would be an entirely different story. 

‘Oh my goodness. Kill me now.” You mutter dramatically.

“No need for theatrics. I knew last week when you came home with that hickey on your neck. You didn’t even bother to try to cover it up either. Where’s the respect?” She jokes , as you hide your face behind your hands at your carelessness. 

You’re sure that life cannot get much worse than this.

“Good for you guys. But no and I mean it..” she started seriously “no funny business at all, on my couch.” When you groan she doubles downs. “I’m serious that couch was expensive.”

“Okay mom, we got it, thank you.” You say pulling Steve up from the couch and towards your room, too mortified to make eye contact with her.

Once you and Steve make it to your room both of your horrified faces meet… and you’re doubling over in deranged laughter. 

*****

tags: @smilesworldsposts @livsters @ali-r3n @em-guitar-pick @wolflover1005 @lexingtoon @eds1986

p.s. some of these didn't work and idk why

[parkerflix]

—cielo en la mente

miles morales x gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst

wc: 4.5k

synopsis: miles morales had you seeing double. but what if it wasn’t your eyes playing tricks?

warnings: atsv spoilers! canon divergence

taglist: CLOSED as of 6/19!

part of my 1k celebration! & part two to this fic!

You had been ignoring Miles lately. It wasn’t that you wanted to see him, but you were confused. Nothing seemed to make sense, or add up.

You sighed, sweeping up the last of the hair on the ground. You mom had already packed up and gone home, telling you to finish the last of the cleaning while she got dinner ready. You went over to the wash bowls, rinsing the hair brushes from the barbicide.

The front door had been locked, and music was playing from the speakers. A bang came from the front door, and you turned around to see Miles standing there.

His hair was out of braids again, and he seemed to be wearing the baggiest jeans and sweater you’d ever seen. He waved at you awkwardly, and you walked over, standing in front of the lock. His eyes were pleading with you to open the door, and you sighed, knowing you wouldn’t be able to leave him outside.

You unlocked the door & opened it so he could come inside. The silence between the two of you was awkward, but neither one of you knew what to say.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

You fiddled with the keys, and went to lock the door, stopping when he asked you a question.

“Could you do my hair? Please?”

It was such a simple question, but it still caught you off guard. Miles normally never asked you to do his hair, he’d just show up during regular hours or text you in the middle of the night and you’d do his hair in your room.

You steeled yourself, and nodded.

“Yeah. Follow me.”

Miles quietly followed you to the washbowls, and sat down at a clean one.

“Do you want me to use a different shampoo & conditioner?”

He was quiet for a moment,

“Can you use the ones you like the most?”

You hummed in agreement and pulled the mint scented shampoo and conditioner. You eyed the deep conditioning treatment, and grabbed that off the shelf.

Returning back to Miles, you leaned his head back into the wash bowl before starting the water.

“Let me know if it’s too hot or cold, okay?”

“Ah!”

You quickly turned off the water and panicked before you heard Miles let out a laugh.

“I was joking. The water is fine.”

You started up the water again and flicked some towards his face.

“Ack!”

“That’s what you get for scaring me like that!”

You both laughed, and soon it turned into a comfortable silence. Grabbing the shampoo, you made sure to lather his hair & rise it out. Miles was secretly a cry baby when he got shampoo in his eyes, so you covered his eyes with your hand.

Grabbing the deep conditioning treatment, you placed it in his hair, making sure to really get his roots. His hair had definitely seen better days, and you were confused how it got to this state when you were the last one to do his hair.

You finished with the deep conditioning treatment and went on with the regular conditioner, the minty scent hitting your nose as the cap opened.

“Smells good.”

Miles had been quiet up until now, and you genuinely thought he had fallen asleep.

“Yeah. Mint.”

He hummed.

“I like it, it seems to be very you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment, and nodded, knowing he couldn’t see you nodding.

You rinsed the last of the conditioner out of his hair, and wrapped it in a towel, tapping his shoulder to let him know you were done.

He opened his eyes and stretched out, reminding you of a cat.

“That was nice. You should do this as a profession, I think it would suit you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Har har. You act like I haven’t been doing your hair and the neighbor’s hair since I could walk.”

Miles gave you a small smile and walked over to your station.

You got your tray ready with all your supplies, not noticing Miles was watching you.

You were different from Miles. He wasn’t sure if you existed in his universe, but he hoped that there was a version of you, hopefully near him. He had seen how you treated him, so gentle but had an edge with your words. He wondered what his counterpart in this universe meant to you.

“You know,” he started, catching your attention when he paused.

“You’re pretty special. You have a cool heart.” Miles inwardly cringed at that, wondering what the hell a cool heart could be.

“Mmm. Thanks.”

“Also, thanks for doing my hair.”

You nodded, ignoring the way something in your stomach flipped.

Miles was never one to outwardly express his gratitude, he was always the type to just show his gratitude and appreciation in smaller ways. He was more reserved with his words in that sense, and this change was different to you.

The rest of time you were doing his hair was relatively quiet, Miles asking you small questions here and there. You enjoyed the atmosphere, happy that you got to spend some quiet time with him.

You finally finished the braids after a little while, showing him the end result. It was the same style that you had done before, but you just thought he looked good in them.

Miles got up from the chair, and got closer to the mirror to inspect them.

He looked at himself in the mirror, unable to shake off a feeling of happiness that swam through him. His hair had never really been in braids before, it was something that he just assumed didn’t suit him, but here he was. He could tell that you put so much effort and love into them, it made his heart swell with joy.

He turned to you, and engulfed you in a hug. He wasn’t one to be affectionate with people he just met, but there was something about you that drew him in, and made him comfortable.

You froze for a second, before hugging him back, ignoring the nudging questions at the back of your mind.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You had asked Miles that day if he wanted to come over for dinner, but had declined and said he had a few things to do. You understood, but felt a little sad that he wasn’t going to come over.

The rest of the night had gone by pretty unceremoniously, giving you time to think about Miles and his weird behavior.

You sighed and texted him, seeing if he was willing to meet you for breakfast in the morning at your spot. He quickly responded with a yes, and a small pit of anxiety formed in your stomach, nervous for the morning.

The next morning your alarm went off and you groaned, not wanting to get up. Turning your alarm off, you closed your eyes for a moment, before remembering you were meeting Miles for breakfast.

Swearing under your breath, you quickly got up and threw on a sweater and jeans, not even bothering to worry about anything else.

Your mom seemed to still be asleep, so you slipped out of the front door, quickly switching your slippers for shoes at the door.

Your spot wasn’t far from either of your houses, and the walk was always nice in the mornings.

Yosi’s diner was the place that you’d been going to even since you were little kids, back when there were 5 of you coming. Even after your parents stopped coming, you and Miles made it a tradition to only have breakfast there. It held memories of you guys sharing good news, and bad.

Miles had seen you cry because a date had stood you up the night before, and you had been his support when his dad passed. Yosi’s diner meant everything to you both.

You finally made your way to the entrance, the flickering sign feeling like a signal that you were home. Opening the door, the soft tinkling of the bell along with the smell of pie placed a smile on your face.

Yosi was standing behind the counter, telling one of the servers some instructions. She was slightly older than you & Miles, with an aura that made everyone comfortable around her. Her parents had opened the diner, naming it after her when they found the place, hoping for her to inherit it.

She glanced at you and smiled. Shooing away the server, she rounded the corner of the counter and came to give you a hug.

“It’s so good to see you! Donde estabas escondida? It feels like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

You chuckled, embracing her.

“I’m sorry. El salón está tan ocupado, toda la gente quiere su pelo arreglado. I’m sure quiñce season is right around the corner.”

She laughed a parted from you, turning her head to the booth at the end of the right side of the diner.

“He’s been waiting for you.”

You hummed.

“He’s in a mood, good luck.” She walked away after that, going back into the kitchen.

You took a deep breath and walked over to the booth. Miles had been watching you since you walked in, eyes never leaving you until you sat down.

“You’re late.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We never agreed on a time.”

“We always meet at the same time.”

Before he could respond, food came to your table, your usual and his usual.

He always got the same chocolate chip pancakes with some whipped cream and a few cherries on them. He never mentioned it, but you knew he got it because his dad used to get them and share with him. You assumed it helped him feel closer to his dad, and understood it was his way.

Both of you tucked into your food, not saying anything until he broke the ice.

“So, que quieres?”

“Damn, what’s with the attitude?”

“There’s no attitude here mamí, just asking a question.” He said, taking a big bite of his pancakes.

You dropped your cutlery, glaring at him.

“Seriously, qué te pasa? What the hell did I do to deserve this weird ass mood?”

Miles didn’t want to say what he was thinking, but he was jealous. He hadn’t seen you in forever, and he had passed by the salon the night before, seeing you doing someone else’s hair when you were closed. He could tell that you seemed comfortable with whoever the guy was, your smile the same you normally only gave him. He hated feeling this way, especially because you weren’t huge on jealousy. Previous partners of yours always were jealous of Miles, and you’d go to him and tell him how annoying it was, not knowing they had reason to feel jealous. He knew you better than anyone, and he wasn’t shy to show it.

“Nothing.”

You raised a brow, not buying his words.

He glanced up at you, seeing your eyes already trained on his face.

“What?”

“Seriously, what’s with you?”

“Nothing, mamí. How was your night last night?” He had hoped that switching up the topic would divert your attention.

“Well, mi mama hizo pupusas, she left some for you. She missed you at dinner, you know.”

“I miss your mom too. Tell her I’ll try to come over one of these days for dinner. Did you miss me at dinner?”

Your face heated up slightly, and you cleared your throat.

“I-no.”

Miles’ face had a huge grin on it, and you knew you were in trouble for it.

“Oh so you did miss me? Mamí, if you miss me that much, you always know where my house is, we could remedy that.” He winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

“First of all, you know I hate when you call me mamí. Makes me feel like those groupies Jaime has. Secondly, you wish I missed you. I haven’t climbed up your window since you decided you'd rather spend everyday with me, papi.”

He laughed at that, he knew you knew he hated being called papi by anyone but his mom. Somehow, whatever tension that had grown between you two had dispersed and left you both pushing away any budding feelings. The rest of breakfast had gone without addressing it anymore, and Miles was thankful.

When it was time for the bill to come, Miles stopped you before you could even pull your card out. You thanked him, and he waved you off, not too worried about it.

“Well, thanks for breakfast.” You said, grabbing your things and getting ready to leave.

“Can I walk you home?”

You nodded and you both got out of the booth, waving bye to Yosi when you left the building.

“So, what’s with the gentleman act?”

Miles clutched his chest like he was wounded and gave you the saddest look he could muster.

“Amor, cómo puedes decir eso? I’m always a gentleman.”

You pushed him slightly, making him burst out into a fit of laughter.

“The only time I’ve seen you be a gentleman was when you were dating that cute enby.”

“Which one?”

“The one with glasses??? God, I can’t remember their name but they really were like your polar opposite, I have no clue how you managed to date them.”

Miles thought about it, and nodded his head.

“Ah, I know who you’re talking about. They were cool. Liked science, and wanted to major in it. We still talk now and then.”

“Mírate, keeping friends who aren’t just me! Rio should be proud.”

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

“Yet you still hang out with me. Admit it, me amas.”

You were too busy looking around the neighborhood to notice Miles’ face get flustered, and he shrugged it off, knowing you didn’t have any hidden meaning behind it.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m stuck with you.”

You glanced at him and smiled, before realizing you guys had already made it to your apartment building.

“Well, this is me. Te veo mañana?”

He nodded and you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking into your building.

Once you had disappeared into the building, Miles groaned and ran his hand down his face. His feelings for you were going to be the death of him.

The next day you regrettably had school.

Both you and Miles went to different schools, him getting into Visions and you going to the local highschool.

You slipped into your uniform, never quite getting used to how annoying the polo shirt looked on you. Fixing your hair a bit, you ran to grab your shoes from the doorway before Miles showed up.

Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, sipping a cup of coffee watching you frantically grab all of your stuff for the day.

“Llevaste comida?”

You grabbed an apple from the counter & a couple bucks off your piggy bank in your room.

“Yeah, totally.”

“Don’t be lying to me. No puedes ir sin comer, te vas a enfermar.”

“I’m not! I’ll see you when I come home?”

She nodded and you gave her a peck on the cheek, running over to your window and making your way down the fire escape.

Miles was already waiting for you, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Don’t-”

“Two days in a row, I’m starting to think you’re hiding a boyfriend up there.”

“Oh shut up.”

The walk to your school was fairly the same except today he bought you a breakfast sandwich. You gave him a questioning look, and he just ignored it.

Making it to your school first, you both stopped at the entrance, shuffling to the side to not block the doors.

“So, any big plans for today at school?”

Miles shook his head.

“Nah, there’s a bunch of lectures and maybe a lab or two. The school’s not that much different than yours.”

“Mmmm, well. Don’t forget to make friends!”

Before he could respond, someone behind you called your name and wiggled their brows.

“Nice boyfriend! Maybe that’s where you sneak off to all the time!”

You flipped them off & took a deep breath, turning back to Miles.

“Maybe you should be worried about making friends.”

“Nah, they just know you and I are close.”

“What’s that about though?”

“What?”

“You sneaking off?” Miles tried to hide the jealousy that was creeping into his voice.

“Oh that.” You scratched your neck and gave him a bashful smile.

“Everyone thinks I’m seeing someone but I go out and grab lunch nearby and then come back. We’re technically not supposed to leave campus so…”

Miles laughed and you felt some pride in your chest.

“That does make more sense.”

You both idly chatted for a little longer before the first bell rang, and you knew he had to go.

“I’ll see you after school?” You said, hopefully.

Miles shook his head and gave you a sad smile.

“Sorry amor, I gotta help my mom and my uncle with some stuff at home.”

You nodded, understanding.

He ruffled your hair and you swatted his hand away, annoyed.

“I’ll see you around then!”

He saw you walk into his school and checked his phone, seeing he was late for school. He didn’t really care though, knowing he would rather spend time with you than be on time.

On your way home from school, you decided to stop in at a bookstore.

You were strolling the aisles, trying to find something that you were interested in. You had found a book, and someone accidentally knocked into you.

“Sorry!”

You turned around and saw Miles there, in a completely different outfit from when you saw him leave for school.

“Oh hey! I thought you were helping your mom with something at home?”

Miles scratched his neck awkwardly and nodded.

“Yeah, turns out she didn’t really need my help.”

“Oh did Aaron have it under control?”

“Yes!” He coughed and glanced around the store.

“Yeah, she had him helping so there wasn’t that much for me to do.”

“So you decided to come to a bookstore?”

“Yes?”

You hummed and turned around again, looking for the book again.

You could tell that Miles was still hovering behind you, hearing the shuffling of his Jordan’s.

“Miles,qué quieres?”

“Uhh… I was wondering if that book was good? I’ve been trying to find something new to read that isn’t an action type of book.”

You whipped around, stumbling into him not realizing how close he had been behind you.

“Are you asking me for a book recommendation? Because if so, we should do a book swap!”

“Book swap?” He tilted his head and gave you a confused look.

“Yeah! We can find books from our favorite genres for each other! I know they have a little cafe area and we can read them there!”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great! Do you wanna meet up front in like 15 minutes?”

He nodded and you clapped and walked off to a different section of the store.

15 minutes later you both met up at the front, both with books in your hands.

Getting to the register, you plucked Miles’ book out of his hands and paid for both of them. He gave you a look and you just shrugged.

“Think of it as payment from breakfast yesterday.”

You thanked the cashier and both of you had made your way to the cafe.

Miles watched you order a drink, and declined your offer for anything. Both of you sat down at a couch, and you put the bag with the books in the middle.

Pulling out both, you handed him the one you picked out for him.

“Six of crows?”

“Yeah! It follows like a group of thieves and you get to see all the different perspectives, I really enjoy it.”

“Oh, sounds cool.”

You smiled and looked down at the book you held.

“Oh hey, Lord of the flies!”

“You’ve read it before?”

You shook your head, a small frown tugging at your lips.

“No, you and I used sparknotes to write my essay on it?”

Miles’ eyes widened.

“Right. Right.” He cleared his throat.

“Well, after that, I decided to read it and I think you’d enjoy it.”

You hummed and nodded, opening the book and beginning to read.

Miles opened his book as well, and was reading, until he felt your head on his lap. He looked down and you and you smiled, seemingly not thinking anything of it.

Miles on the other hand, his heart was racing and he was hoping you couldn’t hear it. He wasn’t uncomfortable per say, he just didn’t know if it was normal between you and his counterpart. You didn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil and were fixated on the book.

A little while had passed, and Miles had seemingly got more comfortable, mindlessly playing with a strand of your hair. You were halfway done with the book when your phone had gone off. You sat up, Miles’ hand dropping down to his side.

Picking up the phone, you saw your mother had texted you to come home, she needed you to run an errand for her.

Packing up your stuff, Miles stood up when you did.

“I gotta head home, my mom needs me to run a few errands for her.”

“Want me to help?”

You looked at him and smiled.

“Sure. I know mom would love to see you anyways.We can talk about the books on the way there.”

You both quickened your pace, and you grabbed Miles’ hand dragging him along with you.

Neither of you had realized the whole way to your house that you were still holding hands, fingers intertwined.

Miles had told you what he thought about the book so far, and he was interested in it. You explained some things he wasn’t sure about, and gave him some fun facts about the characters and the author.

In turn,he told you about the book he had recommended and about the movie that they had made based on the book. He hated the movie.

Finally getting to your apartment building, you climbed up the stairs to your apartment, dropping his hand to look for your keys.

You opened the front door and the smells of cinnamon permeated your senses.

“Ya llegué! Traje a Miles también!”

You kicked off your shoes and Miles followed suit, staring at the photos on the walls. The walls were covered in pictures of you and your mother, of you and him, and your families together. He pulled his attention away, following you into the kitchen.

You gave your mother a hug from behind, kissing the top of her head. She let out a laugh and shook her head. She would always say you’re her favorite child (you were her only child).

“Dónde estabas? Necesito que lleves esto para mi.”

“Estábamos en la tienda, quería otro libro para leer.”

Your mother turned to Miles, giving him a big hug. He hugged her back awkwardly and you snickered at his eyes pleading for your help.

She parted from him and pointed to the fridge.

“Te dejé algunas pupusas, llévalos a tu mamá también.”

“Uh gracias, I’ll make sure to take them to her.”

Both you and your mom shared a glance and she shrugged, before walking over to hand you a package.

“Just this?”

“Yes, and then no getting sidetracked, you have to come home straight after. I trust you will be with them, right Miles?”

“Si!”

He didn’t miss the way you bit your lip, trying to hold in a laugh. You both bid your mother farewell, and went to deliver the package.

The walk to the place was quiet, Miles had no clue where you were going. You cleared your throat, eyes still forward.

“What was that back there?”

“What was what?”

You stopped walking and Miles stopped a moment after, turning to look at you.

“That accent, Miles!”

“Huh?”

“My mom literally side eyed you, she was definitely confused as to why you were trying to pull a joke on her…”

“Oh, right.”

“I found it funny though, mainly because I do that to her all the time.”

“Right.”

Miles started walking again, and you followed behind him, grabbing his hand that was just swinging.

“Estás enojado conmigo?”

Miles stopped and looked down at your hands that were intertwined. He had a strange feeling in his stomach, he wasn’t sure if he could pinpoint it. He was trying to get home, to figure out how to even get back there, but he didn’t even know how long it had been. Time was relative and he wasn’t sure if he was too late.

He also didn’t know why he felt attached to you, a sense of comfort while being around you. He secretly hoped, that even at home, you would be there.

“I’m not mad.”

“Good. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

He squeezed your hand, giving you a small smile.

“Nah. You’re good. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hm, okay. But let me know if I do okay?”

“Got it.”

The rest of the walk to the place was filled with you two talking about different things, laughter from the both of you, once again never letting go of the other’s hand.

Miles realized that the area you guys were going to seemed familiar. It was his uncle’s place. His hands started to get sweaty, and he was panicking. He had actively avoided his family, watching from afar.

You, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. You hadn’t seen Aaron in a while, and you always wondered if he was doing okay. Miles always seemed on edge when you asked what he and Aaron did, which made you suspicious but you also knew he didn’t have to tell you everything.

You both made it to the hallway, and Miles squeezed your hand once more. You assumed it was an unconscious thing, but Miles did it to reassure himself.

“Why don’t I wait here for you?”

“Come on, I’m just gonna knock on the door and if he’s not there, we’ll leave it on his doorstep.”

He nodded and took a deep breath following you.

You knocked on the door, fully assuming no one would be home. Miles told you beforehand that he was helping Rio, so you just did it to reassure Miles. You weren’t sure if they had fought beforehand, but you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

You knocked once more, hearing a voice on the other end yell for someone else to open the door. You straightened yourself up, plastering a smile on your face. Miles rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb, taking another deep breath.

The door creaked open, and when you made eye contact with the person at the door, your heart fell to the floor. Miles Morales stood in front of you, still wearing his uniform, his smile slowly dropping as he looked at your hand, being intertwined with someone. He looked at the person, eyes growing wide and jaw clenched.

Miles next to you felt his heart stop for a second, unsure what to do. He was staring at himself, who if looks could kill, would have him 6 feet under.

You dropped your hand from Miles’, thoughts going a million miles a minute. The main thought though was:

What the hell is going on?

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[daycourtofficial]

Capture the Mate

Summary: Azriel has to leave on a mission for a few days, but he asks Cassian to help look after his pregnant mate while he’s gone. Someone ambushes you and Cassian, taking you as prisoner.

Author’s note: this was requested by this lovely anon!!

“You look massive today.”

You snort at Cassian as you walked in, your giant belly making sitting down a bit difficult.

“And you look extra stupid today,” you retort, “guess we’re both glowing.”

Cassian laughs, going back to his cereal. You were in the last few months of your pregnancy and you were ready to meet your baby. You loved being pregnant, you loved how hot sex with your mate was because of it, you loved cradling your bump and the way your mates hands always find your bump.

But you didn’t love Cassian’s comments comparing you to a whale, the back pain, the inability to get comfortable, and your mate’s overprotectiveness being dialed up by a factor of a thousand.

Azriel was going on fewer missions these days due to your pregnancy, opting to delegate most of them to his most trusted spies. There are occasionally some missions he has to do himself, not happy about leaving you, practically throwing temper tantrums in the lead up to being gone. When he comes home it’s as if he’s been off at war for decades, checking every inch of you, asking you about every detail of your time in his absence (even down to what you ate exactly - he thinks you don’t eat enough vegetables in his absence).

This is the fifth mission during your pregnancy he’s gone on, and each time he can’t bear to leave you without someone who can protect you. Whenever Azriel has to go, he ensures one of his brothers or Feyre will be present with you at all times. Whenever he’s gone, you just stay in your old room at the House of Wind or at Feyre and Rhys’s new house.

At first it sounded a bit like needing a babysitter, but now it’s more like just staying at someone’s house for a sleepover. Feyre and Nesta always tried to help you have fun, spending the days you’re with them doing the things you love. Cassian loves you being there because he likes to have eating competitions with you, and Rhys likes it because he spoils you rotten.

Before Azriel left, he spent probably an hour saying goodbye to you and the babe. He’d kiss you, then move down to talk to the babe. “Stay in there until I return,” he’ll whisper. “Be nice to your mom while I’m gone, okay? Let her sleep, I won’t be here to rub her back when you kick her in the kidneys.”

This time he actually tears up a bit at leaving the two of you. He looks at you, grabbing your face in his hands, “I shouldn’t be too long, sweetheart. Be safe, I love you.”

-

“Any plans for the day, Cass?”

“Mmm not really, I already had training, so my day is free to be spent with you, my favorite sister.”

You smile. “You say that to both me and Feyre,” you reply, rolling your eyes fondly.

Cassian lifts his spoon to finish off the last of his cereal. “It changes day by day - today you’re the favorite.”

-

You had asked Cassian if you two could go back to your home with Azriel, you had some chores to do and you also wanted to work on setting up the nursery.

Looking around the nursery you take in what needs to be done. A month out from the baby’s arrival and your mate still hasn’t set up the crib. But if you set it up without him he’d give you a big lecture about how he was going to do it and how you could get yourself hurt doing it, so you’ll just leave it be.

You have a dresser set up and a wardrobe that practically rivals your own, so you decide to spend the day folding and putting away baby clothes.

Cassian graciously offered to clean the dishes that were in the sink, along with sweeping and mopping your downstairs floors.

After telling him he didn’t have to do that, he responded, “well I don’t want dirty floors for Cassian Jr. here when he starts crawling, and I don’t want you mopping because if you slip you might hurt Cassian Jr.” He finished his statement by reaching out to rub your belly.

You rolled your eyes at him, as he smiles at your belly. “Cassian, aren’t Jr’s supposed to be named after their father or mother? Last I checked, this wasn’t your baby.”

He strokes his thumb over your bump, hoping to feel a kick from within, “we could convince Az it’s mine. I think it’d be hilarious.”

You snort, “he’d kill you in a heartbeat.”

Cassian sighs, “I suppose. Maybe the next one can be Cassian Jr.” He wiggles his eyebrows as he tries to look at you suggestively.

You fling your arms, bringing on of your hands to your forehead dramatically, “Oh Cassian your powers of seduction are too strong, I’m irresistibly drawn to you! I must flee, to keep myself from pouncing on you.”

Laughter from the both of you echoing through the house as you attempt to scuttle away but it becomes more of a waddle as you climb the stairs to your nursery.

-

An hour or two had passed and you made a remarkable dent in the amount of clothing your baby had. The vast amount of clothes are mostly Rhys’s fault, no one alive loves buying clothes more than that male, but your mate was also quite fond of picking up clothes on the rare occasions he left your side.

He loved watching how happy you got, realizing just how much he was thinking of you and the babe while gone.

You decide to go check on Cassian, not having heard much of anything from downstairs since you’ve been in the nursery. You waddle down the stairs, holding the railing for support. You get to the last step, and you see Cassian in your living room, face down, wings splayed out, blood gushing from his head onto your rug.

You yell for him as you run to him, sitting next to him, checking for a pulse. He’s still alive, but he has a considerable amount of blood.

You press on his head wound, trying to cradle his head in your lap to apply pressure to the wound. He’s starting to wake a little, you can feel his hands squeezing on your thighs.

A hand wraps around your neck from behind, and a cool metal graces the skin of your neck.

“Here’s the pretty little thing we were looking for.”

-

When Cassian came to, his head was pounding. He sat up on the floor of your living room, trying to assess the situation. He was mopping the floor of your kitchen when something struck the back of his head.

He never got a good look at the assailant, the blow leaving him stuck on the floor. He was, however, able to crawl into your living room in an effort to reach you.

You.

You had cradled his head, you had come down here.

Cassian bolts up, causing him to go a little dizzy from the blood loss. He gets up, darting up your stairs.

“Sunshine? Are you here?”

He ran into the nursery, checking all the spots you could be hiding in there - the wardrobe, the closet, amongst the bags and boxes littering the floor.

His panic was starting to rise. “Sunshine, are you here? It’s me, Cassian.” The desperation was leaking through his voice, “please be here, it’s okay to come out.”

He combed through your shared bedroom with Azriel, checked every bathroom, Azriel’s study, your spare room, your library, the kitchen.

He combed through his memories, knowing Azriel kept hidden nooks everywhere. When the two of you moved in together, he remembered Azriel made several small pockets in this house so you could hide if anything were to happen.

You came to training, but you were no warrior. You couldn’t hurt anyone, and Azriel knew you’d have a hard time attacking anyone. He knew that Azriel drilled into you if anything were to happen to hide immediately.

The library.

It’s Cassian’s last hope. Of course Azriel had stuck a hidden panic room in the library. Cassian bound into the room, trying to remember what book it was that opened the secret entrance.

Combing the spines, he’s trying to remember. It was green, something that stands out a little, but not too much. Something someone who knew Azriel would know that this is off.

A book of Prythian maps. Azriel, Rhys, and Cassian had all of Prythian memorized, there was no need for it.

He slides the book from its spot, watching the case move, exposing the empty tiny room.

-

Cassian wasted no time jumping off your balcony, flying like a bat of hell to Rhys and Feyre’s house, screaming mentally, hoping Rhys would pick up on it.

He lands on their balcony, bursting into Rhys’s study, interrupting the intimate moment between them. Feyre was perched on his lap, feeding him grapes, Cassian’s entrance causing her to drop the bowl, the ceramic shattering on the ground, a dozen or so grapes spilling across the floor.

“Cassian!” Feyre yells in shock. She didn’t even know anyone else could burst into Rhys’s office.

Rhys stands up, immediately knowing something was wrong. “Where is she, Cass?”

Cassian points to his head, allowing Rhys to see everything. Your rug he stared at after the blow to his head, hearing your distress, him going in and out, feeling your hands press against his wound, him waking up alone, his frantic search of your house.

Feyre gasps, having also seen all of it.

“Bring Azriel home now.”

-

Your captors had thrown a bag over your head, not allowing you to see anything as they took you away from your home, away from Cassian bleeding on your rug.

They left Cassian, probably as a message that they could take him down if they wanted, but that he wasn’t who they wanted.

Your only hope is that Cassian wakes up soon enough and alerts Rhys and Feyre about what happened, and they could get into contact with your mate.

You were filled with a mix of emotions, between fear, concern, and anger. Afraid for your life, what your captors will do to you, concern for your unborn baby, and anger for Azriel.

Azriel closes off the bond between you two during missions, a decision you both agreed to. However, the second he is available, he opens it, letting you know how he is. Your biggest hope now is just sending him how you’re feeling, hoping he’ll feel that you’re alive whenever he reopens the connection.

They had picked you up and flown you somewhere, so they’re most likely Illyrian.

They land, not nearly as gracefully as your mate or his brothers, emitting a soft ‘oof’ from your lips.

They carry you for at least ten minutes, through what you assume is decently packed area.

Are you in one of the camps?

You knew relations between Rhys and the Illyrians were bad, but would they really kidnap the spymaster’s mate?

Your thoughts are interrupted when you realize they’ve brought you into a building and have set you down in a chair, shackling you to it.

You haven’t spoken a word, barely eliciting a sound, just like your mate would do. You’re not sure if it’s what you should do, but the thought of what he would do holds you together.

You have to be strong, for yourself, for Azriel, for the baby.

They pull the bag off your head, your pupils dilating due to the sudden change in light. Four Illyrian warriors stood before you, 11 siphons glowing throughout the room.

“Hello, beautiful.”

The one who had been carrying you and taken you from your home approached you, caressing your face. You kept a stoic, neutral expression, not letting anything slip.

Just like Azriel would.

Your only response is the eye contact you refuse to break with him.

“That piece of shit struck gold when the cauldron bonded you to him,” practically spitting out the last word.

“Your little shadowsinger won’t stop snooping around our camps, won’t stop telling his precious little high lord everything he sees. They’ve been meddling in the way we deal with our women, the way we govern ourselves. We thought it was time to uh explain to them why they should just stay in their precious little city and leave us alone.”

-

The second the words left Cassian’s lips, Rhys was trying to reach Azriel telepathically. Within seconds of Cassian’s words, darkness was clouding the room, creating an impenetrable black, the only light shining being several blue siphons glowing with rage.

Cassian recounted the whole thing to the darkness, knowing his brother was somewhere in there. Once he got to the part of the story where you were gone, the room exploded even further, making Azriel’s siphons impossible to see now.

A few shadows whiz by Cassian, he’s assuming to double check you aren’t in their home. The rage Azriel feels is coming off in waves, when he remembers the bond is still closed.

He closes his eyes, sending a silent prayer to the mother. Please, please, please.

The bond opens, your warmth filling his chest. He can feel the initial fear you felt at being taken, but he can also feel your constant reassurance that you and the baby are okay.

Azriel feels his eyes prickle with tears as he chokes out, “they’re alive.” His brothers reach out to hug him or soothe him, but he steps back, his male instincts kicking in.

“I can feel it,” he says, holding a hand up, “the protectiveness is ramping up. I want to kill any male in sight.”

Rhys and Cassian start protesting, telling Azriel they want to come with him, but he stops them again.

“Give me a five minute head start. Then I’ll give you my location.”

-

Your silence was an interesting strategy, one your captors did not like one bit, their irritation with you growing by the minute.

“Maybe we should rough her up then drop her back on their door step. Pretty loud and clear message, don’t you think?” He circles around your chair, sizing you up like prey.

“We could show her how women are supposed to be treated by us,” one in the corner shouts.

The one circling you spits at your feet before he says, “those half-breed bastards have gone soft, they forget what it means to be Illyrian.”

In a flash he steps forward, his hand slapping you across the face.

-

Azriel used the bond to find you. He kept tugging, the bond offering him a direction to go. He kept winnowing into the direction of the tug, when he began realizing where the bond was likely taking him. He growled with anger, unable to believe they could be so stupid as to take his mate.

He disappeared into his shadows, sending a few to find out exactly where you were. Once they returned, sans the two that wanted to stay with you, they whisked him away to the room you were being kept in.

The big one who had struck you earlier was mid-strike when the shadowsinger materialized out of the shadows in front of you, his hand catching the brute’s wrist.

“Lay another hand on my mate and your hands will become trophies I hang on the wall.”

You can feel his shadows enveloping you in a soothing wave, checking you head to toe for injuries, but only finding the stinging cheek and the pain from the shackles.

The twirl through your hair, eventually skating over your swollen belly, where they settle and stay.

Your mate’s shadows were very attentive of the baby in your belly, as if your unborn babe were calling to them, too. They reacted to everything the babe did, every kick, every movement, as if telling your babe, “we are here, little master.”

The anger radiating off of Azriel was palpable, but his demeanor was terrifying. A feralness to him you’ve never seen before.

“Whose idea was this?”

Nobody in the room speaks, the assailants just gaping at your mate.

“Speak.”

One of them points to the leader, the one whose wrist was still in Azriel’s hand.

Azriel looks into the male’s eyes, piercing through his soul, as he flicks his arm, breaking the male’s arm.

He screams, shocked at the swiftness of the break. Azriel takes the moment of surprise to pull the first assailant’s head into his knee, bashing his head into his kneecap, throwing him on the ground.

He looks to the next closest one, tilting his head, deciding how he wants to play this. He decides to leave truth-teller sheathed at his side, opting instead to use his bare hands.

“I wanted to savor this, however I don’t want to keep my mate waiting,” he states, coming up to the next closest one and swiftly wrapping his hands around his head, twisting until a sickening crack echoes through the room.

One of them lunges for Azriel, fists raised to fight him. Azriel moves to the side, causing the running assailant to run into the wall behind the shadowsinger. Azriel grabs him by the back of his neck, pulling his arm back, and with all of his force, pushing his head into the wall. Over. And over. And over. His blood splattering the wall, an actual crack in the wall forming from where his head kept hitting it.

He releases his hold, allowing his body to fall to the floor. Azriel turns and looks at the last one, the one that had pointed to whose idea this was, as some of his shadows finally break free from you. “Now,” he says, as they begin pooling at the last captor’s feet, “I’ll deal with you later.”

The shadows at his feet begin pulling the male into the pool of darkness, assumingly to be questioned further about their failed plans.

Azriel undoes the shackles keeping you in place, hoisting you into his arms, the belly making it a bit more difficult.

The second he reopened the bond to find you, he began sending you a constant stream of love down it, trying to convey to you that he was on his way to you.

Being gathered in his arms, the bond was humming a sweet melody, a soft duet that can only be heard when you’re together.

He pulls back, grabbing your face in his hands. “I have never felt fear quite like I did when Rhys made me come back. I knew something was wrong, I was hoping that the babe had just come early.”

He puts his left hand on your belly, the babe inside kicking the exact spot his hand is in. Your mate laughs.

You look at him, seeing the fear and adrenaline in his eyes as he continues, “but when I got back and Cassian said they left him behind and took you, I thought ‘okay, if they’re gone, I have nothing left to live for.’”

“But then, I opened the bond, and I felt you, and I-“ he chokes up a bit, continuing, “I almost started crying. You were alive, and you were okay.”

He pulls your head in, kissing the top of your head several times.

“You’re both okay.”

You reached up, stroking his cheek, “we’re okay.”

He smiles, and you laugh, “I guess this means you’re never leaving my side again, huh?”

He laughs, a tear falling down his face as he does so. “Oh no, sweetheart. You thought I was overbearing before, just wait. You won’t remember what personal space was soon enough.”

You laugh, “at least tell me you aren’t upset with Cassian. He’s a sweet guard dog.”

He smiles at you, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “They ambushed him, I could never be upset with him over that. Now come on, let’s go see my brother before he gives himself a heart attack with worry over you.”

“He is quite fond of me, isn’t he?” You ask, his arm going around you, preparing to embark through the shadows to go back home.

“He told me he prayed every night that we would be mates,” he says, the shadows beginning to engulf the two of you.

“Why?” You ask, wrapping your arms around him.

Azriel looks into your eyes as he says, “he told me he never thought anyone was good enough for me until he met you.”

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

The drive's short one. 

Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.

What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?

(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  

"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  

"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.

"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"

"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 

"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 

Of course they were.

"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 

"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 

"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.

Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 

"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.

"What?" 

"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 

"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.

"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  

"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 

If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 

"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 

"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 

He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 

Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 

"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"

"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 

Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 

"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 

Steve pauses. 

Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  

"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.

Hook, line, sinker.

Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 

"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 

Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.

The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 

That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.

xXx

Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 

She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--

But she also can't tell him she loves him.

So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.

 Play’s more basketball.

It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.

That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…

He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.

 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 

He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.

That he should let her. 

Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 

She wants to be let go.

So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.

(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.

Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.

It's--something.

But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.

It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )

xXx

"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 

"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 

One, giant, never ending bruise. 

"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 

If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 

"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 

The same one he's already getting looks for. 

"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."

The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 

"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 

Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.

The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 

(He had not gone to a hospital. 

None of them had.)  

"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.

Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.

 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 

Just older, and with slightly better hair. 

"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 

He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 

"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 

The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.

(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 

It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 

"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"

"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 

See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 

They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 

(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 

"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 

"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 

Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 

Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:

 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 

Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 

Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.

The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 

"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 

"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 

"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 

It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 

The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 

xXx

College rejection letters come in, one after the another.

Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.

Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.

Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 

It's not that bad. 

Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  

He figures he has time to win her over. 

All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.

Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 

It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 

‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 

Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.

Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 

(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 

When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 

Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 

That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.

That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.

Better.

Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 

Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 

His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 

Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 

Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 

Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.

The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.

Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 

"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 

She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 

“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 

"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.

She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 

"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.

She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 

"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 

Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 

This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 

Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 

"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 

The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.

"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 

Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 

He’ll be okay.

He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.

A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 

He likes it.

"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 

"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 

Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 

Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 

If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 

(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 

"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 

"I'm busy." He says flatly. 

"Ste~eeeve!" 

"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 

Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 

If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 

"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 

"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 

‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 

"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 

“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 

“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 

“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"

“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 

“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.

“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 

He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.

The one he swears he still has.

Supposedly. 

("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 

"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.

Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 

In a way no one ever had. 

Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"

"Ow, God Dustin--" 

"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 

"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 

Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 

He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 

It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)

[hobiebrownismygod]

Can you do a 42 Miles fanfic where we style and/or braid his hair but he’s pretty tender headed (even tho he tries to act tough)?

I have no idea how to braid his hair type so I did some research for it! pls let me know if anything is inaccurate and I hope you enjoy this little fic! As always, thx for requesting <3

Possible TW: reader is referred to as "Mami" (femreader), mention of Rio, kissing on the cheek (romantic tw), unedited (pls lmk if theres any errors/inconsistencies so I can fix them)

⋆｡°✩

"Hold still!" You exclaimed, pulling his head back as he let out a yelp. "You're braiding too tight!" he hissed, closing his eyes shut and groaning.

"Hey, I'm trying my best!" you exclaimed with a frown, loosening your grasp on his hair lightly in an attempt to be gentler. "They have to be tight or else they'll get loose too quick!"

He grumbled, sitting up straight and gripping onto the chair tightly to mask how much pain he was in.

This wasn't the first time you were braiding your boyfriend's hair, but you were starting to hope it would be the last. He was so tender-headed, you couldn't even touch his head without him letting out a yelp. How had his mom been dealing with him all these years?

But then of course, Rio had more patience than you'd ever seen in a mother so you weren't too surprised.

He grunted in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut as you finished one of his cornrows, tying a rubber band to the end as gently as you could. "Miles..." you said, putting your arms around his neck from the back. "Do you want to take a break? Let your scalp breathe?" you asked a little teasingly.

"No! I'm fine." He said annoyedly, folding his arms over his chest as he avoided your eyes in the mirror. You kissed his cheek gently, a smile on your face. "Are you sure? The second one might hurt more."

His eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean it'll hurt more?"

"If I don't finish soon, I'm gonna be late to get home! You know how my parents are about curfew" you said, rolling your eyes and gathering up the rest of his hair to start on the second cornrow.

"Wait, wait, wait-" he said quickly, standing up. "Just uh- just give me a second. Let me breathe."

You put your hands on your hips, watching him with a smile. "Does it really hurt that bad? Have you ever tried using numbing cream, or-"

"I don't need numbing cream! I'm not a little kid, Mami." he said with a frown, sitting back down tenderly. "Alright, just do it. I'm ready"

You glanced down at his knuckles, which were turning pale as he gripped onto the arm of the chair. The two of you stayed still for a moment.

After a second, he opened his eyes to look at you in the mirror. "You gonna do it, or...?"

"Miles, you're gonna hurt yourself if you hold on too tight." you said with a sigh. "This isn't a roller coaster."

He grumbled, folding his arms in his lap as he waited for you to start, his eyes closed shut. "Just braid it."

You raised an eyebrow at him. His breath hitched in his throat.

"Please?"

You rolled your eyes again, beginning his second braid. "That's what I thought."

He stayed silent for a moment, letting out a quiet hiss of pain as you slowly moved your way down his scalp. "Thanks for doing this by the way." He said softly. "Means a lot to me." His voice was so quiet it was almost like a whisper.

"Always." you said back, your fingers moving as gently as they could, satisfied with his gratitude. "I'm really trying to be gentle man, you're just tender-headed."

"I know, I know. Thanks." It only took a few minutes for you to be done and he immediately leapt up, touching his head gently and looking in the mirror. "Looks good."

He turned around, a grin on his face before sweeping you up in a hug, arms wrapped around your waist. "I love youuu" he teased, kissing your cheek, back in a good mood now that the pain was over.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." you said with a laugh, pushing his face back gently. "I love you too, Miles."

⋆｡°✩

He's a silly little guy

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[vixstarria]

Down by the river

Stand-alone, but takes place immediately after Mark me as yours

Astarion and Tav spend a night by the river, away from camp

Astarion x f!Tav, Astarion x f!Reader

18+ but I wouldn't call it smut, fluff and humour until you get smacked in the face with some trauma I guess, banter, pining, sexual references, oral sex

TW: trauma

I couldn't decide on a POV so I alternate Tav and Astarion in each section. "But Vix, why didn't you just write in 3rd person?" you might ask. Well, because I like really getting into their heads, and because shut up, that's why. It's pretty obvious which section is whose. You got this.

Approx. 2,000 words

AO3

“Come see me later tonight, there’s something I want to show you,” Astarion murmured to you as he passed by, lightly brushing your hip with his hand.  

You thought you’d already seen all he had to show by then. Still, you were curious.  

It turned out to be a ‘where’, not a ‘what’.  

“Stay here,” he told you, at the edge of the bank. “Don’t turn around until I tell you to.” 

He then disappeared somewhere in the trees behind you. Or so you assumed. He could be eerily silent when he wanted to be. 

You were a bit perplexed, truth be told. Astarion had turned out to be all talk and no show when it came to any kind of romantic gestures that didn’t directly involve sex. It couldn’t be that. Were you supposed to see something out on the water? It looked perfectly ordinary. Some kind of ridiculous prank, perhaps..? That would be right up his alley. 

You were starting to feel a bit stupid standing by yourself at the edge of the bank. Did he just walk away..? 

“Astarion, if you’re about to make another dramatic shirtless appearance from behind a tree, I swear-” 

It was dramatic alright. You didn’t hear him until he was a step behind you, flying towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind mid-sprint and sweeping you sideways into the river along with him. He’d taken the time to take his own clothes off, of course, and yours were now drenched. The prick.  

“You asshole, what if I didn’t know how to swim?!” you spat as you resurfaced next to him 

He just laughed. 

“Why I’d swiftly come to your rescue, darling.” 

Realization hit you.  

“...Shouldn’t you be melting..? Or disintegrating, or whatever it is that happens to your kind in running water?” Another gleeful toothy grin. “...Tadpole?” 

“Tadpole,” he nodded, making his way towards a spot shallow enough for your feet to touch the riverbed, as you followed. “I only discovered this earlier today.” 

“Awww... And you immediately had to find me and go ‘Mom, mom, look what I can do!’”  

You dove again just as he went to splash you in the face.  

“Adorable,” she smiled, once she re-emerged in front of you. 

“What is?” 

“You in moments when you look genuinely happy,” she said, removing her clothes and throwing them onto the bank. “Fangs peeking out from behind your lips, all murder and mischief.” 

You found yourself at a brief loss for words as she finished taking her clothes off and turned back to you, throwing her arms around your neck and wrapping her legs around your hips, clutching on to you weightlessly in the water. 

“I like seeing you happy...” 

Something in your chest clenched. 

No, no, no, no, no, this is not how this is supposed to work. 

Your body followed its instincts and you drew her into a kiss, hands roaming her thighs and hips under the water. 

“You know, you really didn’t need to go through all that trouble, getting my clothes soaked through, to get me to take them off,” she murmured as your lips broke away from hers to trace her jaw. 

“Oh I know...” you purred. “I didn’t need to throw you into the river to get you soaked, either.” 

You kissed her mouth again, grinning, to muffle the sounds of her annoyed protest. 

Your usual script, all your usual lines had been rolling off her like, well, water. Frankly it was a breath of fresh air. She picked apart your words, expressed exaggerated dismay or tried to one-up you, turning it into a game – but still, she did exactly what you needed her to do. All that mattered was the end result, no? And if you could have fun with it, all the better, you thought. Even if it was... different. 

You hand slipped further, between her legs, teasing her exposed slit as she gasped and clung to you tighter. 

Yes, you thought. This was familiar. This you knew what to do with.  

“Let’s get out of the water,” you murmured to him.  

Sex in lakes, rivers and hot springs was much more appealing on paper than it was in reality.  

Apparently Astarion had taken the time to prepare a few things this time, including some sheets and blankets that laid next to a prearranged campfire. 

‘Ignis!’ He lit it, immediately setting it ablaze. Warmth at last, you thought, wiping yourself off.  

“Thoughtful of you to get some blankets this time,” you said, sinking down next to him, close to the fire, letting him pull you against him. 

“...Is this about the night at the clearing again?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. 

“What else?” 

“I’ll have you know, I am civilised and had a whole spread all of five meters away from where we ended up! We could’ve moved there if you’d only stopped being a complete animal for a few seconds,” he said with a mixture of amusement and indignation. 

“No, no you didn’t... Did you? Oh gods... Why didn’t say anything?!” You burst into laughter, sinking against his chest. 

“The way you were carrying on, I figured you must have been half wood elf and enjoyed having needles stuck in your ass!” 

Unbelievable... How bloody absurd. 

You lifted your head once you’d finally regained your composure, grinning at him. The way he looked back at you was so full of tenderness that you were momentarily taken aback. But it couldn’t be. Not with him. 

“Tsk... ‘Civilised’,” you murmured. “Who wants that?” 

You caught his lips in a kiss, then dipped lower, starting to slowly trail open-mouthed kisses down his neck and past his collarbone, leaving gentle teasing bites on your way down. His breath hitched as he sank with his back down onto the blankets, his fingers tensing on your back.  

You ran your tongue between the ridges of his muscles as you went lower, idly wondering what kind of magistrate kept in this kind of shape, if this really was the way he looked before he was turned. His skin felt like silk over the hardness of his muscles. 

“What are you doing, you naughty thing..?” he breathed, hoarsely. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” you purred. “Or is it that you don’t like it..?” He was already hard for you. You teased his cock with just your fingertips before taking it into your hand, continuing to slowly kiss and lick your way down. “But I think you do.” 

“Oh you have no idea...” he whispered. 

It’s not that you haven’t been on the receiving end of this before. It’s that when you were, it was usually some slobbering drunk that reeked of piss, whom you wouldn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole, much less have any body part inside of, disgusting and unpredictable, or when you were ordered to participate in some deranged bacchanalia you wanted no part of, with all its abasement and humiliation and having to act, always having to act, always the pretty boy, pretty 200 year old boy being passed around like some kind of doll, or the time with the- 

Oh for fuck’s sake, I just want to enjoy this! 

No one was forcing you to do this, this was your choice.  

‘...I like seeing you happy...’ 

It was her hand, it was her mouth, this was your choice. 

She wanted to pleasure you. She would never hurt you.  

‘...I like seeing you happy...’ 

Just fucking enjoy it, why can’t you just fucking enjoy it?! 

“Look at me, darling...” you reached down to touch her cheek with your fingertips.  

Anchor me... 

Astarion watched you for a while through his lashes, holding eye contact as you worked his cock with your mouth, before ultimately falling back and shutting his eyes. His hand moved to your hair, gripping it tightly. 

His whole body was wound up tight like a coil. You started to get the impression that he might push you away at any moment. Was he just over-sensitive..? You eased up the intensity of your motions – you would have stopped entirely, only he started to buck his hips, fucking your mouth as he groaned, the hand in your hair pushing and pulling on your head. 

Alright then, maybe not... 

You followed his lead until he started whispering something incoherent, jerking his hips more erratically. Before long, his grip on your hair tightened further, and he gasped your name several times, before finally spilling in your mouth.  

Never before has anyone made it seem like they were fighting for their life through what you thought was just a routine blowjob. You knew you weren’t that bad. Nor that good.  

Something told you you should call it a night.  

“Kiss me,” he whispered, pulling you back up, his hands wandering down before you stopped them. “No..?” 

He looked dazed. 

“Another time,” you said, kissing him lightly, before lying down in his embrace.  

“If that’s what you want,” he drawled. 

Nature got you there in the end, but the whole act was tainted, no matter how much you wanted to want it. You couldn’t ignore it or pretend you were unaffected anymore. Free, relatively safe, walking in the sun, leagues away from Baldur’s Gate, and still you were in a chokehold.  

You wanted to want it, gods how you wanted to... Maybe next time would be better? There would have to be a next time, wouldn’t there? 

You also wanted to scream. You hugged her tighter against you instead.  

Now put all this behind you and act normal, you wretch. 

You laid on his chest, gazing into the fire, edge of the blanket folded over the two of you. It was cozy and peaceful, and you could almost pretend that there was a semblance of normalcy to your life, and that you were just having a pleasant night with a lover. And that maybe you’d just imagined anything was off earlier.  

"You’re awfully quiet, what’s on your mind?” he asked, lightly tracing circles on your back.  

“Just contemplating the fact that blowing a vampire isn’t even the strangest thing I’ve done today,” you lied.  

Close enough. 

“We should head back I suppose, I doubt it’s safe out here in the open,” you said, reluctantly.  

“Darling, I assure you, I am the most dangerous creature to stalk the night in these parts,” he said in his usual flippant manner. 

“Yes, yes, you are a vicious, deadly beast,” you smiled. 

“Rawr,” he said matter-of-factly, as you buried your face in his neck in silent laughter. 

You slowly made your way back to the camp.  

You didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to lie awake, alone with nothing but your thoughts. She was contagious with her levity in her sweet ignorance, you didn’t want to part from her.  

“Did you end up fixing that teddy bear?” she asked. 

“Of course I did, did you think me incapable of mending a stuffed animal?” 

“Ah right, that’s why Karlach was chasing you around, threatening to hug you...” 

You chuckled. You’d never admit it, but you were actually growing fond of the hellish tiefling. She at least didn’t give you a wide berth like the others. 

“Can you do us all a favour and not leave me in camp wasting time on things like that all day again? I’m sure my skills would be more useful elsewhere.” 

I missed you. 

“Yes, Wyll and Gale did mention you were completely useless, if not downright destructive,” she smiled.  

You reached the camp and stood in front of your tent. Hers was further along.  

“I better go get some sleep,” she said.  

You gently pulled her against you by her waist, kissing her. 

Please just come in, stay with me, please... 

“Good night then,” your mouth said. 

“Night,” she whispered, before placing another soft kiss on your lips and walking away.  

Why didn’t I just pull her in after me..? Wretched idiot. 

Should’ve just made myself at home... Sigh. Fucking idiot... 

~~~~~

PS Astarion saying "rawr" is canon and I will stick it wherever I please.

Next in series - Something real

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Pst, anyone else - feel free to leave a comment if you'd like to be added to a tag list

[luvjunie]

— roller skating

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

contains: romance, slightlyyy (barely) suggestive fluff, miles and reader are in their late teens for realistic purposes

summary: you and miles go on a date to the roller rink and you have a hard time picking up the skill. you ask him to demonstrate for you and he obliges, but you’re so caught up in him that you’re not sure you learned anything at all. wc: 1,254

a/n: if you want to listen to the song mentioned while reading, i suggest you start it when you come across the spotify link i added during the exact scene it’s playing in the story. i highly recommend waiting until prompted so you can experience exactly what reader did cause chileeee. it hits differenttt like i fr made myself fall in love with this one 😭 also if you didn’t know, this is the exact vibe of a black roller rink lol. example 2

🎧: Close To You - Dreezy, T-Pain

“miles, i’m going to fall.” you whined nervously, your body basically glued to the length of your boyfriend’s right arm.

“you won’t ma, i got you.”

he laughed gently at your uneasy stance, and secretly at how terrified you were of participating in what’s been one of his favorite activities since he was a child.

his skates rolled smoothly against the floor as he guided the both of you to the rink; but yours, however, awkwardly clunked around as you settled for taking wary steps, instead of actually gliding like you were supposed to.

how you ended up agreeing to a date at the roller rink with miles was beyond you. you were someone who tripped over your own two feet at least twice a day from simply trying to walk. but with his promise of teaching you and his guarantee of going slow, your nerves had dissipated some— until you’d actually slipped the skates on and got out onto the rink.

“don’t pick your feet up mama. just push them out to the side, one after the other and lean your body forward. you got it.”

you heard his instructions loud and clear, but your brain still struggled to send the correct signals to your unsophisticated body.

you wobbled against the browned, laminated wood, not really a fan of your newfound lack of control when it came to your own legs. right hand hovered out beside you in preparation for a tumble, the fingers of your left were tightly clamped around miles’ bicep as an effort to keep your balance. you had a death grip on him, too focused on not eating shit to wonder if you were hurting him or not. you weren’t, but even if you were, he wouldn’t tell you.

“you’re overthinkin’ it.” he smiled down at you, finding your instinctive need to hold onto him adorable.

“how the hell do you do this without falling flat on your ass?” you asked, already exasperated from your short trek from the bench.

“i’m just like that.” he shrugged suavely, chuckling discreetly when your head turned towards him with a pointed glare. “practice. my moms taught me when i was eight,” he rephrased, and you stumbled suddenly, but he quickly caught you by your arm, two strong hands steadying you before your feet could sweep out from under you.

“okay, no, this isn’t gonna work,” a shaky breath pushed passed your lips and somehow you managed to bring the both of you to a stop over by the wall of the rink, hand instantly finding purchase on the railing. “can you just, i don’t know… demonstrate, first?” you waved your hand around, motioning towards the other people out on the floor to get your point across. “maybe if i watch you do it, it’ll come to me easier.”

he nodded, retreating from you slowly, backwards. he gestured back and forth between the both of you with his finger, your eyes unintentionally falling to it. “eyes on me, aight?” he instructed with a subtle smirk, a sultry trace lingering in his tone.

you couldn’t take them off him even if you tried, so that wouldn’t be a problem.

you were convinced your attraction towards this man couldn’t become any stronger than it already was, until “Close To You” by Dreezy started playing through the speakers and the spot lights on the ceiling dimmed dreamily to a mellowed pink, blue, and orange— blending into a seductive mix of captivating hues that illuminated the rink. you felt yourself swoon, and had half a mind to curse out whoever was on music and lighting for aiding in the palpitations of your heart as your eyes followed your boyfriend closely.

you watched his feet first, as one fanned out in a small half-circle after the other, the movement allowing him to skillfully glide out onto the bustling rink.

how he was able to skate backwards when you had such a hard time grasping the concept of even doing it the normal way, you didn’t know. not to mention sifting through people without bumping into a single one of them. and while the technique of it all seemed simple on paper, what really impressed you was how effortless he made it look.

facing the opposite way of everybody else as he cruised, his hips languidly swayed to the beat of the music, upper body leaning just the slightest with them and you had no choice but to gawk at him— at how handsome he looked, at how good he was at this. at how his lips were absentmindedly tucked into themselves due to his focus, then unfurled to faintly mouth the lyrics.

lord have mercy.

you were mesmerized to say the least, lips parted somewhat and mouth dry. it was like everyone else had disappeared, like the two of you were the only ones in the room; time moving slower than it usually did.

once he started enjoying himself and got into a groove, he’d forgotten you were even watching him, until he caught your marveling eyes transfixed on him from across the rink, chin dropping to his chest for a beat as he simpered to himself. tongue wetting his lips, he shook his head in amusement. he already knew why you were looking at him like that.

with one foot expertly crossing in front of the other periodically, he maneuvered himself through a few stragglers with a brief look over his shoulder, swiftly spinning around a couple that happened to be in his way.

yeah, now he was just showing off.

you had no idea what your face looked like, but as he rounded back over to where you were, he laughed at your awestruck expression and called out to you.

“you droolin’, mami!”

if your jaw wasn’t already dropped from watching him nonchalantly coast around, it definitely was now.

your fingers mindlessly rushed to check, because honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if you were, only for a playful glower to settle onto your face when you realized he was messing with you.

having forgotten you were supposed to try for yourself, your eyes widened in slight panic when he suddenly skated over to you and gently took your hand, pulling you out onto the floor against your will.

“no no no no-!”

“cálmate, mama.” he drawled, his words dragging on as he shot you that same charming smile that’d made you fall in love with him in the first place. “i’ll hold you, no te preocupes (don’t worry). just c’mere,”

you gave him a look of uncertainty, but reluctantly moved your feet just enough to get closer to him anyway. he met you halfway, and snaked his right arm around your waist, expertly turning you so your backside was facing him before he pulled you flush against his body, and your teeth found your bottom lip before you could stop them.

his left arm then came around to your front to meet the other and your lungs drew in a wavered breath at the feeling of his hands resting on the soft of your inner thighs, dangerously close to having your knees buckling. your face bloomed with a sweltering heat, mind entirely corrupted by him and him only. how the intoxicating aroma of his dior sauvage cologne invaded your nostrils; how it felt being against him like this. lashes fluttering and mind turning to putty at the way he was holding you, your warning to him was merely a whispered reminder.

“miles.”

“shhh, i know what i’m doin’.” his response had a double meaning to it as he kept you tightly pressed to him, figure hunched over yours a bit. his breath warmed your skin and his lips brushed the shell of your ear when he spoke, his hands tapping rhythmically against your thighs to keep up with the beat of the song while he helped guide you into the same fluid movement he’d demonstrated prior.

your hands came down to rest overtop his, and you were shocked at the way your body naturally began to sway in sync along with his once you let yourself relax into him; the both of you settling into a comfortable stroll.

“see, ¿que te dije? (see, what’d i tell you?)” he teased, his voice a deep hum against your cheek. “you got it.”

- please don’t plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to any other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

[orpheuswasmine]

More Amnesia Bill AU

Amnesia Bill! I think it is a really bittersweet idea. I imagine they were going to do their ritual thing to get rid of him but after the ritual fails they opp on trying to kill him. Fortunately, no one can really bring themselves to kill him, since he’s so lost and confused about everything. Genieuly helpless and everyone just takes pity.

I said in my last post he would remember some things via dreams and shit, but I think the only thing he would remember in the start would be his parents. Can you imagine Ford mentally preparing himself to kill Bill, just to hear him talk about his parents so suddenly? I don’t think he would say a lot, but just like, “I was close with my mom. I don’t know where she is,” or something like that.

More about the whole regaining memories bit by bit, I swear up and down he would have a meltdown in the middle of the night because he regained the memory that HE DESTROYED HIS DIMENSION. Even though he keeps getting told it’s just a nightmare, it definitely wasn’t just a nightmare, he’s reliving the worst of the worst every night.

Slow a burn story. I fw the whole enemies to lovers but in this case, it’s a one-sided enemies shit. Ford (and everyone else as mentioned in the last post) hates Bill—Ford shows it, whether subtly or outright, he leans more into the subtleness of it all. After a while, he does realize Bill is genuinely powerless and not faking shit. He would be more sympathetic, but he definitely will still harbor the animosity for a while; however, Bill definitely fell in love during the time Ford was more sympathetic to him.

The start between them is like, Bill wanted to be friends with Ford because he seemed to know him like the back of his hand. Bill doesn’t have romantic feelings for Ford in the start, rather just this kind of desperation to cling to anything or anyone that can help him remember something, anything. Ford definitely didn’t like him, and any time Bill tried interacting with him, he either ignored him or walked away. Avoidance is key, but he can’t avoid the man forever. Eventually, they start to talk—more like Bill does the talking—Ford becomes a lot more invested whenever Bill talks about his memories. There were definitely times he got a bit worried Bill would remember their time together.

Bill's continuous nightmares would get so bad, Ford decided to stay with him for a night.

Last post, I said Mabel would be the only one to believe Bill, loosely. She shows her sympathy to him early on, but she’s still super weary of him. he helped him settle in a bit and when he needed to cry and tell someone about a new memory he regained, he’d always tell Mabel. Like his parents. A small conversation like this perchance?

“I wanted to show them the stars, that’s all I wanted. No one knew what I was talking about then. I wonder if they can see the stars now.”

“I’m sure they can now—hey, maybe they see you right now? I bet your parents would be happy to see where you are right now.”

“You reallY think they can see me?”

“Oh definitely. With your looks and personality, how can they miss you?”

While everyone is weary of Bill and lowkey trying to get rid of him, Bill is enjoying his time bonding with Mabel, even if she sometimes slips up and shows her suspicions towards him.

Bill's relationship with Stanley and Dipper is really rough. Like, genuinely, they don’t hide the fact they don’t like him, especially Dipper. Bill could be sweeping and then Dipper is in the back praying for his downfall. Dipper definitely shuns him and on some bad days, he does lash out at Bill. I don’t think their relationship would get super better over time, rather, I think it would become something like tolerance. As much as Dipper hates him, he doesn’t really have much of a say in what happens. He doesn’t show his hate toward him too much, occasionally they can have a decent conversation, but when push comes to shove, Dipper will definitely lash out at Bill again.

The same can be said about Stan, though I do think he would somewhat come around to like Bill. Not by much, just a bit. Just like Dipper, he would lash out, but he took a more teasing approach towards Bill, knowing it would definitely annoy the demon. Even if it went over Bill’s head, he definitely sensed him getting really agitated about it. He messes with Bill more so, his way of letting out his hate for him. Bill can tell Stan doesn’t like him, but he rather have to deal with stan’s antics than to be ignored all the time.

That's all for tonight gang BYEE

[weebsinstash]

something that I think would be, truly one of the worst things about the yandere Batfamily really truly is their power to make any and every problem you've ever had completely go away in no time at all

it can be such an awful feeling to see that you struggled in vain with something that was nothing at all to someone else. You could have significant issues that have followed you all your life and have had traumatic impacting effects on you and these people could come in and sweep that all away. Student loans you've been paying off for years, if not a fraction of your lifespan, still burying you in debt? We are talking fucking decimal points on the scale of Bruce Wayne's wealth. That bad leg from an old work injury? Let's grab you one of the best doctors in Gotham, if not the entire world, fuck, we may even get you a doctor or medicine that isn't even human-made! Y'all want a magic leg? We know this chick who can speak backwards, you want a magically healed leg?

Crippling loneliness? Eternal sunshine and objectively best Robin Dick Grayson is here to brighten your entire world since he knows what it can feel like to be hurting and alone and he's literally like the heart and soul of the entire manor besides Alfred

Chronic pain, an undiagnosed disability, or maybe you're not confident in your fitness? Jason has extensive knowledge of injury recovery, physical therapy, and overall knowledge about human biology and musculature and how everything correlates

Family issues? Daddy issues? Let Resident Troubled Kid Expert Alfred Pennyworth be your new grandpa. He's dealt with more than one temperamental snappy individual, and he'll use his patience, experience, and wit to wear down all your stress and hostility. It's hard to keep being cruel to someone who's nothing but kind to you, and he has plenty of patience and delicious baked treats to hold out until you give in

Honestly just the fact most of them are so fucking young would get under my skin. You could be approaching your 30s and be sitting here at the Wayne family dinner table as their weird sister/mom/girlfriend/whatever and being all "I've just always had these struggles my entire life, I dont know what's wrong with me, I feel like I can't control how I act or feel and I hate it" and someone like Tim who depending on the source material and where you are on the timeline is a literal teenager with extensive knowledge of criminals and psychology is just over here, "oh, that? You have chronic childhood trauma, recurring resurfacing conflict related ptsd, severe abandonment issues, emotional regulation problems that are probably biological, and also you probably have autism, and there's nothing wrong with any of that :)" and then he turns to Bruce and starts talking about how his school is taking a trip abroad to Greece while you sit there processing that everyone around the table has extensively psychologically evaluated you and you probably have your own file on the Batcomputer (you do. It's excessive.)

It's just. The psychology of having all these problems you've struggled with be wiped away by someone else like it's nothing and how, that can result in making someone feel all the more worthless and helpless. Oh, Bruce was able to just make all your problems disappear? Clearly YOU weren't trying hard enough. Tim is able to suss out what's wrong with you? Well YOU'RE the dysfunctional idiot who was born wrong, and YOU were the one choosing the wrong doctors. You're watching all these young teenagers or young adults be vigilantes and travel the world and learn multiple languages and you're like. Normal guy Steve from the grocery store. You know? They take control of your life and make you feel like a side character in it, because everything you do is now attached to them, and all of them and all of their adventures are so... spectacular

And really, someone with a meaner heart, and maybe someone more blunt like, say, Damian, could perhaps come in and make some comment, "see? This is why you needed our assistance in caring for you" and what are you gonna do, NOT act like they basically fixed your entire life in less than a year's time, with the one objection of kidnapping and imprisonment? You're just over here, "um yeah, actually, I'm an adult and I can take care of myself, you don't need to TAKE CARE OF ME???" meanwhile Bruce and Alfred are exchanging knowing looks while you speak as if the old butler hadn't needed to help you call your doctor and other important urgent matters because being on the phone with strangers gave you such intense anxiety. Ok yes sure honey you are a lovely functional adult and your brain is big and beautiful and perfect 🥰 now shut up about going to live back home on your own, go play Xbox with your new brothers or go bake something with Grandpa while the world's greatest detective sits down in the Batcave using the Batcomputer to track down and "have a friendly chat" with that one childhood teacher that gave you that one really specific trauma-

[five-rivers]

archetypical changes

@echoghost1 @ghostfox_fuyu

It started out small.  Small enough that, in retrospect, Danny was surprised he noticed at all.  But he did.  At least, he noticed enough to dismiss it as nothing important. 

It was just hair, after all.  Just hair, growing a bit too fast.  He knew that people did have different rates of hair growth naturally.  Like, beards especially could grow fast.  That’s why five o’clock shadow was a thing.  

Just hair.  

He wound a curl around finger, where it peeked out from under his left ear.  This fast…  He could probably brush it off.  Maybe it was an extension of his healing powers.  He’d just need to cut it more often, so he didn’t go to the barber too often.  Would that even be something people would notice?  

He’d noticed.  It was his body.  His hair.  

Would anyone else?

He ran a hand through it, sweeping it back, and went on with his life.  

“Hey, Jazz,” he said, a week later.  “Will you give me a haircut?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Jazz.  She turned from her desk and looked him over.  “It is getting long, but didn’t you just get a haircut?”

Danny shrugged.  “Does it matter?”

Jazz walked over to him and looked up and down the hallway.  “Is it a ghost thing?” she whispered.  

“No idea,” Danny said.  

Jazz sighed, as if it was his fault he was a freak of nature.  

Well.  It kind of was.  Still.  She didn't need to act like it.

“Come on, we'll do it in the bathroom. I'll get the broom, you find the scissors.”

They regrouped in the bathroom a few minutes later.  Jazz had picked up a chair as well. 

“Go ahead and sit down,” she said as she pulled a comb from a drawer.  She ran the comb through his hair.  

“I did brush my hair before,” said Danny, leaning back slightly and closing his eyes.  

“Sure,” said Jazz.  “Just checking.  How do you want this?”

“However it was before.  Just shorter than it is now.”

“Well… I’ll do my best.  But you know I’ve not done this before, right?”

“Yeah, but I can’t ask Mom or Dad, and I’m broke, so.  This is about it.  Unless I want to ask Sam, and I’m not ready to go goth.”

“Going ghost is enough for you, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay,” said Jazz with a sigh.  “Let’s do this.”

The scissors snipped cleanly through his hair, over and over, ticklish strands falling around his ears and shoulders.  Jazz didn’t get fancy.  She kept things relatively even and didn’t attempt fades or different lengths or anything like that.  The result was somewhat strange, but it was workable.  No one would think he had some kind of weird hair-growing… thing.  

Yeah.  He was totally killing this secret identity thing.  

Jazz ran a hand through his hair, shaking loose a few more cut strands.  “Your hair is really fluffy, you know that?”

“Thanks, Jazz,” said Danny.  

“Thank me by helping clean up.  Your hair got everywhere.”

“Guess that’s why barber shops use those weird little capes.”

“Yeah,” said Jazz.  

They cleaned up relatively quickly, and Danny spent the rest of the afternoon working on homework, secure in the knowledge that he had, once again, protected himself from discovery via stupid means, like supernaturally fast-growing hair.  He didn’t have the time for it to distract him from what was really important.  In this case, transformations of functions.  

Math.  What would he do without it?

Then, of course, he went to bed and fell asleep.  No one disturbed him that night, ghost or human, which only happened about half the time, even if it felt like he was being woken up every night, sometimes.  

He woke up and ran his hands through his hair.  It felt longer than it had yesterday when he went to bed, but not by a huge amount.  He might have to get Jazz to cut his hair once a week or more.  Maybe he’d just have to learn how to do it himself.  Ugh…

He went about his usual morning routine in his normal somnambulant state.  Clothing, shoes, on to the bathroom…  

His reflection blinked sleepily at him.  Yeah, his hair was a bit longer, but only by a few millimeters.  It wasn’t growing fast enough that anyone would notice over the course of a few days.

Dismissing the problem as one that wouldn’t truly become problematic for a few more days, he picked up his toothbrush and made a face at himself in the mirror.  

Then he froze.  

He leaned forward, over the sink, baring his teeth.  He poked at his canines with one finger.  Yep.  Yep, that was real.  That wasn’t a hallucination, even if it seemed like it should be.  

His upper canines had grown long and sharp overnight.  Their points descended until they almost touched his bottom gums.  He opened his mouth and discovered that it wasn’t just his upper canines, but his lower canines, too.  

His fingers roved over the rest of his teeth, searching for other changes.  He couldn’t find any.  That didn’t mean they weren’t there.  

He pulled off his shirt, then his pants.  He hadn’t noticed anything else while he was getting dressed, but he was so out of it in the mornings that his lack of noticing also didn’t mean anything.  

His skin… still pasty white, still lightly freckled.  His muscles seemed to move normally, but he wasn’t exactly an expert.  However…  He raised his hand to his side and slotted his fingers into the gaps between his ribs.  It hadn’t been like this before, had it?  He slid his fingers back and forth, thinking.  It felt… oddly satisfying, but also very wrong.  His hips also seemed slimmer, bonier.  

He’d never had all that much fat, he took after his mother in that way, but he was pretty sure this was over and above that.  Something strange was happening to him.  

He put his shirt and pants back on and walked through the wall into Jazz’s room.  

“Holy– Knock first,” said Jazz, throwing the first thing she could grab at him.  Which was her pajama pants.  Ew.  “What’s wrong?”

“I have fangs now,” said Danny.  

“What?”

Danny opened his mouth as wide as he could to show her. 

 “What are you doing, I don’t want to see your uvula, that’s– Oh.”

Danny let his mouth close with a click.  “What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m–”  Jazz looked lost.  “I don’t know.  You can probably hide, um, teeth for school.  It’s not as if people are going to be looking in your mouth…  Are there any other changes?  Other than that and your hair?”

“Um,” said Danny.  “I– Maybe?”

“If it’s important enough that you broke into my room–”

“I didn’t break anything.”

“--then you’d better tell me.”

Danny felt himself blushing. “It’s– I think that I’ve lost a lot of weight.  Like, overnight.  I can see my ribs now.”

Jazz hissed through her teeth.  “That’s serious, Danny.  That’s a serious health thing.”

“More than the fangs?”

“Way more than the fangs.  I’ll call us out sick, and we can go visit your doctor friend.  What was his name?  Frostfight?”

“Frostbite,” corrected Danny.  “You’re really going to help me skip school?”

“For a health thing?” asked Jazz.  “Yeah.  You basically are sick.  Or, at least, there’s something strange going on with your body that we need to figure out sooner rather than later.  Now get out of here so I can get dressed.  Is it cold where Frostbite lives?”

“Freezing,” said Danny.  “Wear long underwear and layers.  Lots of layers.”

“Ugh.  I might as well wear my hazmat.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said Danny.  “We are going into the Ghost Zone.”

Jazz sighed.  “Great, now, seriously, get out and get ready to go.  I’ll get you when I’m ready.”

Danny fled back through the walls and dropped himself onto his bed.  He waited, thoughts whirling.  What could possibly be making his hair grow faster, his weight drop, and his teeth turn into fangs?  Was this some kind of ghost disease?  Ghost puberty?  Some kind of weird curse?

Jazz knocked on his door not long after, and Danny leaped up, eager to get answers.  

“I called us out,” she said, then did a double take.  “Danny, your hair.”

He reached up and ran his hand over his head.  “It’s longer,” he said.  

“A lot longer,” said Jazz.  “Visibly longer.  I was only gone a few minutes.  It’s getting faster.  A lot faster.”

Danny forced a smile.  “Well, good thing we were already going to see Frostbite.”

Jazz hesitated, then nodded.  “I got Mom and Dad to run off to Elmerton.  Told them there was a ghost sighting over there.”

“So they won’t notice us being gone.  Smart.”

“I know I am,” said Jazz.  She smirked down at Danny, then winked.  “Come on, let’s go.”

Danny went ghost and floated next to her as she made her way down the stairs.  “How are you on piloting the Specter Speeder?”

“I’m, well,” she made a face.  “I haven’t gotten much of a chance.  I’ve gotten up to level three on the simulator.”

“You should be fine to fly it, then,” said Danny.  “It’s not like there’s a lot of stuff to run into– you’ll just go through it.  And there’s no time to learn like the present.”

“Don’t use my words against me,” said Jazz, scowling slightly.  Danny stuck his tongue out at her.  

They went down into the lab, and started going through the flight checks for the Specter Speeder.  

“I’ll fly ahead,” said Danny, clipping on a Fenton Fone.  “Check for danger and all.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“Yeah, I feel fine,” said Danny.  “Just… weird.”  He licked his teeth.  “Really weird.”

“Okay, go ahead.  I’ll finish up here in just a couple of minutes.”

Danny flew through the portal and did a few laps of the portal.  “Everything looks clear for you over here.”

“Okay,” said Jazz through the Fone.  “Check your Fenton Fone.  It’s skipping a lot of what you say.”

Danny grumbled but checked it.  It seemed fine.  He popped it back in.  “I think we’ll just have to deal with it,” said Danny.  

“Great,” said Jazz.  “Stand clear.”

The Specter Speeder slowly slid through the portal.  Once it was all the way through, Danny tapped his Fone again and waved at Jazz.  “Follow me,” he said.  “It’s a long way there.”

.

The Far Frozen was as cold as ever.  Danny landed in the snow, his hair falling down to the curve of his jaw, and sighed at the pleasant sensation.  Flying wasn’t difficult, per se.  It wasn’t like walking or running, it didn’t really use muscles, but it was tiring, and the Far Frozen was far.  

However… was he more tired than he normally would have been?  Or was this another symptom?

“Great One!” greeted Frostbite, jarring Danny from his spiraling introspection.  “What brings you here today?”

“Well,” said Danny, trying to get his thoughts together.  

“Health things,” said Jazz, climbing out of the Speeder.  “Oh, gosh, it really is cold out here.”

“I see,” said Frostbite, leaning closer to Danny.  “You do not appear injured.”

“It’s more like… body… changes,” explained Danny awkwardly.  He glanced sideways at the other yetis walking through the public space.  “Can we go in?”

“Of course,” said Frostbite.  He gestured Danny and Jazz onward and towards a well-lit cave.  “Medical is this way, as you might remember.”

“I… guess I don’t, really,” said Danny, following Frostbite.  “It’s sort of a blur.”

“Understandable.  You were quite unwell.”

Danny could feel Jazz glaring at the back of his head.  He decided to ignore that.  Problem for later, if she remembered.  The hair and teeth and weight loss were the problems now.

They reached the medical wing in short order, and Frostbite ushered him and Jazz into a smaller private room.  There was a counter and an examination bench and a few cabinets.  “So, what seems to be the problem?” he asked.  

Danny, with Jazz’s ‘help,’ explained.  

“Hm,” said Frostbite.  “There are a few things that could cause that, but I need to make some measurements before I could say which one is happening here.  Could you sit up here and take off your shirt?”

Danny flew up - it was a bit too high to just jump up - and pulled off his shirt.  Frostbite produced a stethoscope, and asked Danny to cough and hum.  He listened intently.  Danny listened, too.  Humming felt… odd, as if his chest were more hollow, as if the sound was brushing the very edge of his ghostly wail.

“And all this happened recently?” asked Frostbite, after a few minutes.

“Yeah.  I noticed the hair thing about a week ago?  Everything else seemed to just show up today.”

“I think I may know what is happening.”

“Is it a ghost puberty thing?” asked Danny, unsure if he should hope for that or not.  

“I suppose it could be considered analogous to puberty,” said Frostbite, bemused, “although puberty isn't something that typically happens to ghosts.  We don't age.  It's more along the lines of adapting to a role after a period of malleability.”

Jazz let out a little sigh.  “It's not something that will hurt Danny, then?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot say that for certain.  There are a great deal of potential complications, which may be made greater by your half-human status, and the archetype you seem to be settling into…”  

“What is it?” asked Danny.  

“The role you have taken upon yourself is that of a tutelary, a protective spirit.  You are developing a very thin, almost gaunt appearance, and your hair is growing rapidly.  Fangs tend to be nonspecific, common to many types of ghost, the same with minor changes to your nails and skin tone.  Your wail on the other hand…”

“I sort of felt it when I was humming, earlier,” volunteered Danny.  “That hasn't happened before.”

“There is only one group I know of that matches all those traits,” said Frostbite gravely.  “Here, in the Realms, they are called the Keeners, or the Mourners, or, on occasion, Those Who Mourn Before, for their predictive abilities.  In the human world, I believe the more famous of them became known as banshees.”

“I thought banshees were all women,” said Danny, feeling a little blank. 

“The famous ones are,” said Frostbite.

Danny wanted to know more about that, but shook his head and returned to the question at hand.  “What's dangerous about that, though?”  he certainly thought it sounded unpleasant and inconvenient to the whole ‘secret identity’ thing, but he could admit there was a difference between that and actively dangerous. 

“A banshee’s wail is supposed to kill people, isn't it?” interjected Jazz.  

“They do, on occasion,” said Frostbite.  “Especially when they are younger and have less control.”

“I've had my wail under control for ages, though,” protested Danny, shooting a glare at Jazz.  She gave him an apologetic shrug.  

“When I asked you to hum, earlier, didn’t you feel something different?  Something unusual?” asked Frostbite, kindly.  

Danny shrugged.  “Maybe.”

“This is a change,” said Frostbite.  “One that affects more than your physical appearance.  The powers associated with your archetype will change as well, including your wail, and those changes generally come with a loss of control, however temporary.  The typical precaution in these cases is to, ah, use a gag, until a community of banshees willing to train the new one can be contacted.”

“I, um.  I don’t suppose that’s something that I can do, like, overnight?”

“Not generally,” said Frostbite.  “There’s some overlap between banshees and ice-cored ghosts, more than there is for fire-cored ghosts, but it isn’t a great enough number for us to have regular contact.”

“That’s… I can’t… Great.  That’s.  What am I supposed to do with that?  I’ve got my whole town–  The ghosts– I can’t just up and leave.”

“Danny, you can’t go back if your wail could just randomly go off and, you know, ki–”

“I know that,” interrupted Danny, dropping his head into his hands.  He rubbed his face vigorously. 

“You may not have that particular addition to your wail,” said Frostbite.  “In fact, I would be rather surprised if you did.  You are, like I said, primarily a tutelary.  A protector.  Banshees from such backgrounds more typically have predictive or clairvoyant abilities.  They do not cause the deaths that follow their cry, they only are aware of them.”

“Well, I guess that’d just suck for me rather than everyone else.”  He could already feel his mental health taking a hit.  “But I’ll be good, I’ll stay here and do whatever precautions you want.  Play the silent game, sit in the middle of nowhere in the Zone, the gag thing, whatever.  You’d better come up with a good excuse for me, though.  I think Mom and Dad’ll get suspicious if they don’t see me for days or whatever.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Jazz.

“Is there anything else I should know about?” asked Danny.  “Like, am I going to spontaneously combust or grow a tail or what?”

Frostbite chuckled.  “Probably not.  But we should take some fittings for the sound-dampening gag…”

Danny sighed.  “I really don’t want to wear a gag.”

“It will be temporary,” said Frostbite, “to prevent accidents before you can have proper training.”

Danny wrinkled his nose.  “That sounds wrong.”

“How so?” asked Frostbite.  

“Don’t want to talk about it.”  He fell back to lay down on the examination table.  

Frostbite patted his shoulder.  “It will be fine, Great One,” he said.  “Almost everyone goes through this eventually.  And while you’re here, I can give you more details about what other kinds of changes you can expect going forward.  I have simplified a good deal, after all.”

“Oh my gosh, it is just like puberty,” said Danny.  

“Are you sure you’ll be okay without me?” asked Jazz.  

“I’m more worried about you flying back.”

“We can give your sister an escort,” said Frostbite.  “If Miss Jasmine is alright with that.”

Danny removed his hands from his face to stare Jazz into taking the escort. 

“Alright,” said Jazz.  “If it won’t put you out.”  She walked over to Danny.  “And if you are sure you don’t need me.”

“I’m sure.  We can’t both be gone for who knows how long.”

She sighed and patted his shoulder.  “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” said Danny.  “I’m just going to complain about it the whole time.”

“As is your right.  I know I wasn’t too happy when it started happening to me.  I wasn’t always as handsome as I am now, you know.”Danny sat up.  “Okay, now, I’ve got to hear that story.”

[impala-dreamer]

Temptation & Consequences

A Short Story

~Jensen has been busy all weekend at the convention, leaving little time for fun with his girl. Luckily, Y/N knows how to get his attention... and more...~

Jensen Ackles x F!Reader

2,176 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Dom!Jensen, sub!Bratty!Reader, Hair Pulling, Spanking, Kinda rough(ish) sex, Delicious.

A/N: Another block off my @jacklesversebingo board. The prompt was "temptation". Also written for Kym who wanted some hair pulling. Hope you all enjoy!

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

His phone buzzed.

He couldn’t hear it, but he felt it vibrating in the front left pocket of his tight jeans.

Ignoring the alert, Jensen stepped up to the mic stand and reached for it, tipping it up slightly so that it was aimed at his lips. He smiled and the crowd swooned. That was all it took- just a flash of a grin and a sweep of green eyes and the whole room fell to its knees. It was too much power, and inevitably fleeting, but he loved it just the same.

Another alert shook against his thigh and Jensen’s attention was pulled away from the purple-haired teen who was timidly inching closer to asking her actual question. He knew who was texting and it was all he could do not to sneak a peek at his screen.

“...And yeah, so I just wanted to say thank you. My mom and I really love Supernatural.”

Jensen smiled and nodded in thanks. “Your mom?”

The girl blushed. “Yeah. She made me watch.”

The cell buzzed again.

Jensen pursed his lips and narrowed his gaze at the girl. “Your mom,” he said again, making the front row snigger. He raised a brow and acted offended. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

He sighed heavily and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I am so old…”

The crowd laughed and the girl hid her face.

“I’m sorry!”

Jensen shook his head. “Fourteen,” he echoed. “Sheesh. Who’s your favorite Winchester?”

The girl chewed her lip and bashfully leaned into the microphone.

“Well?” Jensen grew comically annoyed.

She cleared her throat. “Sam.”

With great flare, Jensen tossed his hands up into the air and spun away.

As the audience enjoyed the theatrics, Jensen’s pocket vibrated twice and he gave in, dragging it free from his jeans. While the room was distracted, he checked the messages and his pulse raced.

‘You look so fucking hot today, J.’

‘that shirt is killing me. The buttons… your huge arms…’

Jensen looked up at the crowd, his cheeks beginning to burn.

‘Need your big cock in my mouth’

‘Or right here…’

He scrolled down to the last message and was met with a close up of Y/N’s bare tits. Her nipples were hard, her skin creamy and begging to be touched.

With a thick swallow, Jensen closed the messages and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

“This is why I don’t do panels alone!” he joked, swinging back toward the mic.

Fans came and went, questions flew around his head. There was nothing that he hadn’t been asked before and he was able to phone it in well, all the while thinking about his own phone. Two more texts came through but he refused to look at them, knowing Y/N was just upping the ante by teasing him some more.

“Who would win in a fight, Soldier Boy or Dean?”

Jensen laughed at the question as if he’d never heard it before. He had.

Another buzz.

He scratched a hand down his cheek and grabbed his phone, looking quickly before jamming it into his back pocket.

‘Hurry. Im starting without you’

A photo of her fingers against her thighs, tips poised and ready to dip into the sweet honey between.

He hissed a breath in and then let it out slowly, pretending to ponder the question. Finally:

“Well, obviously Soldier Boy is a supe, so he’s stronger…”

The crowd was divided, half cheering, half booing. Jensen held up his hands and called for patience.

“That being said,” he growled into the mic, “Dean is a genius and he’s always got a plan. I think he could kick a little ass before goin’ down, don’t you?”

Half a smile from his plump lips pulled the audience back together and everyone, no matter which character they favored, cheered and had Jensen’s back.

He always won them over.

The final message came through and he glanced at the screen while the audience carried on. A photo of her wet fingers pulling at her juicy bottom lip greeted him. Her pink tongue was curled and ready to steal a taste and Jensen could all but hear her intoxicating moan.

He clenched his jaw, shoved the phone back in his pocket and slyly adjusted himself.

She was gonna get it.

He’d make sure of it.

Y/N was backstage when he stepped through the curtain. Phone in hand, she leaned against the wall, eyes heavily painted and staring as if he were the only thing she could see. She was dressed up for the convention, skirt short and boots tall.

Green eyes traipsed down her body, making her pulse quicken.

Jensen shook a few hands, chatted quickly with his assigned volunteer handler, and fake-smiled at everyone around him. He kept one eye on Y/N, glaring his disapproval and offering a stern warning.

She could run if she wanted to, but he knew she wouldn’t.

Pleasantries done, he pushed through the crowd and slowly walked towards her. She stood up straight as if pulled by puppet strings and bit her lip, scared but aglow with anticipation.

He dipped his chin and pointed at her with a solo finger, shooting an invisible bullet at the center of her. She shivered and he motioned quickly to the hallway.

Defiant, she stood frozen on the spot until his thick fingers curled around her upper arm and yanked.

Not a word was spoken.

Not until the door slammed behind him.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked, flicking on the light and illuminating the empty conference room. A long, highly polished table sat in the middle of the room, its chairs stacked against the blank back wall.

Jensen took a step toward her and Y/N countered, falling back a pace.

“Well?”

She swallowed hard and smiled. “I mean… I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

He sucked his teeth. “And what, exactly, were you trying to do?”

A tingle of fear soaked arousal ran down her spine and Y/N took another step backwards.

“Um… Just trying to… uh…”

“Get yourself in trouble?” he grit.

She shook her head teasingly slowly. “No…”

He loomed above her. “Get me hard on stage in front of everyone?”

She bit back a grin. “No?”

He lunged forward, grabbing a giant fistful of hair and tugging her around. She spun on the spot, guided by his firm grip, and held in a gasping cry.

“You wanted my blood to boil, didn’t you, little girl?”

She held her breath.

He pulled harder and her back arched.

“You wanted to get me so worked up that I’d have no choice but to take out all my frustrations on you.”

Jensen turned his wrist and wound her hair around his hand. Her neck lengthened and curved backward. He dipped his lips to her ear, growling deeply.

“Was that your plan?” He tugged again and she moaned. “Answer me.”

His breath on her ear sparked goosebumps along her throat. His voice made her tremble. The surge of pain he invoked traveled down to her cunt and she could feel herself drip.

She exhaled her reply. “Yes…”

A tiny smirk played upon his plump lips.

“Did you think you’d get away with it?” he teased, pulling her back to fall against his chest. The hand in her hair dropped to her throat and his fingers curled around the front. He didn’t squeeze, just kept his hand in place, letting her know that he could.

She knew it all too well.

“Did you think I wouldn’t punish you for all that teasing?”

She swallowed against his palm. “I… I knew you would.”

Jensen snaked his left hand around her waist and up to grab her breast. She whimpered, let her head fall back against him.

“Wanted you to,” she confessed.

He pinched her nipple and snapped his teeth by her ear. She shivered.

“You’re a bad girl, Y/N…”

Helplessly, she nodded. “I am.”

His fingers tightened gently around her pulse points and Y/N’s eyes fluttered. Her heart raced, her head became fuzzy.

“Such a fucking brat,” he hissed. His left hand slid down her front, tucked into the warmth between her thighs. He hummed darkly when his fingers slipped against bare flesh. “No panties, either?” He tapped on her slit. “You are asking for it.”

He teased her pussy, dragging his middle finger back and forth over the sensitive outer lips but never pushing inside. Y/N rolled her hips back and felt his cock, hard and trapped in his jeans.

She chewed her lip and wiggled her ass against him. “You gonna give it to me or do I have to go find someone else to help out?”

His voice deepened. His fingers squeezed a bit more. “Excuse me?”

Y/N laughed teasingly. “I don’t know, Rob’s looking pretty hot today… got that sexy beard going-”

With a shove from behind, the table came up to greet her and Y/N found herself face down on the polished top.

“You think so?” Jensen yanked her skirt up, exposing her ass and wet cunt.

“I always think Rob is hot,” she answered, pressing her luck.

Jensen opened his belt, ripped his zipper down.

“Especially with that stupid little hat…”

He’d had enough.

He clenched his teeth, kicked her feet apart, and grabbed her hips.

“Shut up,” he warned.

Y/N smiled into the cold wood. “The things I would let him do to me…”

“I said, shut up.”

Y/N opened her mouth to expand upon her lustful feelings for his friend, but Jensen forced a choked cry out of her instead.

In one unceremonious thrust, he was buried deep in her slick hole. Her pussy gripped him tight and Jensen inhaled hard and loud, his eyes snapping shut as lust and relief washed over him.

“Fuck…”

Y/N’s eyes rolled as he crushed into her from behind; the warm, solid mass of him pinning her to the table. She managed to push her palms up against her chest and lift her head, but his thrusts were quick and powerful, each forcing her back down onto the table.

“God, Jay-” Her voice crackled. Her breath stuttered.

His nails dug into her sides and Y/N moaned.

“Needed this so fucking bad,” she whimpered.

Jensen clawed at her ass and then slapped her left cheek hard.

She gasped but couldn’t move away. Moaned but couldn’t reach for more. She was desperately captive.

Another crack and she melted. Gentle pain spread like warm honey through her system and she relaxed, falling into his rapid rhythm.

His hips jerked faster, cock jabbed in deeper. She clenched around him, her body pulsing with edging pleasure.

“Please-”

Jensen growled wordlessly, lost in the moment. He bent his knees, dipped down and slowly stroked upwards.

Y/N hissed and clawed helplessly at the table. With nothing to hold onto, nothing to scratch, her nails slid across the smooth top and she shuddered. “Fuck! Please!”

Once more, he grabbed her hair; his palm pushing hard at the base of her skull. He twisted his wrist, yanking up a ponytail into his fist.

“Yeah? You want all this?”

He pulled and her back arched, lifting her chest from the table.

Her voice was shaking. “Y-yes!”

The web of pain mixed with his swift thrusts and Y/N came, her body squeezing him hard. Jensen let out a tight-lipped cry and slammed into her again and again, quickly following along.

“Fucking, fuck!”

When his hand relaxed, Y/N fell back down to the table and struggled to slow her breath. She could feel him stuffed inside, hesitant to back away.

“So good, baby,” she cooed.

Gently, he let himself fall over her and lean close to kiss her cheek. “Was, wasn’t it?” He grinned, toothy and punch drunk.

“Remind me to text you more,” she laughed as he moved away, releasing her from captivity.

He shook his head, tucked himself away. “Don’t even think about it.”

Green eyes were stern, but she knew he’d enjoyed himself too.

Spinning around, Y/N pressed up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. She licked into his mouth while sneaking a hand around to dig in his back pocket. Quickly, she withdrew his ever-present bandana. His cum was beginning to drip down her thigh and she needed to wipe it away before heading back out into the real world.

She took a step back with the kerchief and Jensen grabbed her wrist.

“I don’t think so,” he grunted, ripping the bandana from her hand.

Y/N startled and gaped up at him. “But- I gotta clean up-”

His teeth dug into his lip. He shook his head. “No. Leave it.”

Turning away from her, he shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket and headed to the door.

She gasped as his hand hit the knob. “Jensen! Someone might notice!”

Looking back over his shoulder, he cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. “Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it? Maybe next time, you’ll consider the consequences.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!) @alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05  

[wynnyfryd]

let’s get experimental, baby

1.9k | E | gratuitous f/f steddie smut | ao3

(written for @steddie-week and cross-posting here for @mrsjellymunson pspsps)

“Are you insane? I can’t just—!” “Yes, you can!” Robin runs her hand down her face, tugging at the skin, clearly done with the conversation. “For the last time, she literally winked and gave me her number and said, and I quote, ‘pass that along to your little lost sheepie.’” “Oh, gross.” “I know. This whole thing is gross for me, honestly, so just— ugh. Just shut up and call her. God, I’m such a good friend.”

“Just shut up and call her,” Stevie mocks under her breath, goosebumps pebbling her skin as she wraps her arms around herself and waits for someone to answer the door. The tank top and running shorts made sense when she left the dorm earlier to play frisbee, but now, with the stars peeking out behind thick clouds and a humid breeze rolling in, she feels a little exposed. Underdressed. Inappropriate, the echo of her mom’s voice chastises in her head. Just a sunburned, silly straight girl, shivering on a stranger’s doorstep with her tits spilling out of her sports bra. Oh, god, she should uncross her arms. She should leave, actually, because this whole thing is stupid, and she’s—

“Hey, there.” 

Eddie swings the door wide open, leaning her shoulder on the frame with an easy, inviting grin. If Stevie’s outfit is inappropriate, then Eddie’s is a downright scandal. She’s not wearing a shirt, for starters, just a tight sports bra that cuts off some tattoos and accentuates others, a riot of black ink on pale skin, soft and stark contrast sprawling over her shoulders and curling around her ribcage, snaking down her sides to slither over sharp hip bones, just visible over a pair of low-slung black sweats. 

Stevie’s mouth is so dry. “Hi,” she squeaks.

Eddie’s eyes glitter in the low light. “Oh, you’re cute.” She sounds pleased. Almost predatory. “Come on in.” 

She steps to the side, bowing a little in a sweeping gesture of welcome, and behind her, a guy with black hair down to his waist leans over the coffee table and rips an insane hit off a three-foot-tall green plastic bong and starts coughing like he might die while another guy pats his back in sympathy. 

“Oh.” Holy shit. “Um.”

Eddie follows Stevie’s gaze; barks a loud laugh and a Jesus Christ at the opaque cloud hanging in her living room. “My roommate, Argyle, and my roommate’s roommate, Jon,” she smirks. “If you can see them through the smoke.”

“You want some?” Argyle offers when he finishes coughing, already working to load another bowl. 

“I’m good.” She scrunches her nose. “Wait, your roommate’s roommate?” she asks Eddie. “But wouldn’t that make him…?” 

The guy, Jon, looks up at her and laughs, holding up air quotes as he turns his attention to Eddie, clearly repeating something he’s heard a dozen times. “Nah, ‘cause I’m ‘not on the lease, I just never leave their house.’” 

“Would you prefer I call you what you really are, huh?” Eddie narrows her eyes, playfully mean. “Snack thief? Squatter? Good for nothin’—”

“My sad boy musical stylings enrich your life, and you know it.” 

Another laugh — full volume, all teeth, her chest bouncing with it. Stevie likes how expressive she is. How free. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie tells her, “they were just heading out.” 

—

“So, how do you want to do this?” Eddie asks after they leave; sitting side by side on the sofa, close but not quite touching, one arm draped casually over the back of the couch.

Steve tries to calm her breathing. Can’t quite manage it. “I— I was hoping you’d tell me?” 

“You were hoping I’d tell you how you want it?” Eddie teases, big, dark eyes running all over Stevie’s face. Stevie flushes bright red — stupid, stupid, oh my god. Why is she so bad at talking? Why did she even agree to this at all? “Hey,” Eddie pulls her back to the moment, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingers are warm, the nails bitten short. “I’m good with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.” She stretches her arms back out over the couch. “Got a lot of experience DMing, so. I don’t mind playing the narrator if that’s what you’re asking for.” 

“I don’t know what I’m asking for,” Stevie mumbles, embarrassed. She doesn’t even know what half that sentence meant, but something about Eddie’s casual confidence makes her want to learn. 

“Listen,” Eddie chews her lip. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I’m not gonna, like, pressure you or whatever, so uh, if you just want to sit here and talk, then we can—”

“No! No, it’s—” A nervous giggle bubbles up. Oh, my god. She cuts herself off with a sharp exhale, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling and her shoulders down her back and willing herself toget it the fuck together. She’s Stevie Harrington, damn it. She knows how to get laid. “I want to do this,” she says, steady and sure. And she should end it at that, but then: “You’re super hot and I want to let you do whatever you want with me, which honestly? I, like, was not expecting that reaction from myself when I agreed to this, y’know? So that’s kinda crazy — and also I don’t really know what my options are here, like I understand the anatomy, obviously, because I have the same stuff, but I don’t, um— and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or say the wrong thing or—”

God, is she Stevie Harrington? Because she’s pretty sure Robin Elizabeth Buckley just took over control of her mouth. 

Eddie’s eyes are doing the glittery thing again. “You think I’m hot?” 

Wow. “Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

“Well, sure.” She licks her teeth, smile going cocky. “You don’t highlight the whole paragraph when you’re studying for a test, do you?” You don’t?? “Do you have a safeword in mind, by the way?” 

“A what?”

Eddie makes a muted noise that sounds a lot like Robin when she sees a service dog she’s not allowed to pet. “Nevermind. You can just say stop or tell me no if you don’t like something I’m doing, mmkay?”

“Well, duh.”

“Mm.” Stevie wishes she understood what the smirk was for this time. “I’ll check in first, too, of course,” Eddie assures, tucking her chin, ringed hand splayed over her heart. “Not gonna just spring shit on you without asking.” 

Stevie’s eyes drift down to Eddie’s chest, to the black painted thumbnail nearly dipping into her cleavage. “What if I’m into that?” 

Eddie throws her head back when she laughs, curls springing free from a messy top bun. “God, you’re cute, you know that?” Her voice dips low, raspy with want as she tips Stevie’s chin up to look at her, her tongue dipping out to wet her lips. “Fuck,” she hums, “Yeah.” 

Stevie’s breath hitches. She sways closer. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Ringed fingers slide into her hair, tugging just a little, sending tingles down her spine. “Real pretty, baby. You gonna let me kiss you?”

“Yeah.” 

Their noses brush. “Say please.”

“Eddie, please.”

—

Stevie’s gonna die. Like Argyle coughing up a lung in the living room earlier, only Stevie’s halfway off Eddie’s mattress with Eddie’s tongue between her legs and she’s pretty sure she’s about to snap in half like a glow stick and fucking orgasm to death. “Stop, stop-stop-stop, oh, my god!” she gasps, wriggling up the bed as another wave threatens to crash over her, her thighs shaking around Eddie’s ears, pulse throbbingagainst the two fingers buried deep inside her. 

Eddie pulls her fingers out and looks up with a feral grin. Red-faced, mouth shining, bangs frizzy with sweat and friction, she crawls her way up Stevie’s body, dragging a trail of wet, happy kisses up her heaving belly as she goes; ducking to kiss one breast and then the other before landing a featherlight kiss on the tip of Stevie’s nose. “All good, sweetheart?” 

Stevie giggles like a schoolgirl. God. She’s never felt like this before, didn’t know sex could be this bubbly. She feels like she’s high. “Yeah. Just need a second, I’m… Wow.”

“Hi Wow, I’m dad.” 

“Oh, my fucking god.” 

Eddie chuckles and bends to nip at Stevie’s jawline, hands squeezing at her waist, sliding down to her hips and back up, thumbs skimming the swell of her breasts. “Jesus Christ, the curves on you,” she mutters, breath hot and fast on Stevie’s throat. “So fucking beautiful, you know that?” Her tongue draws a wet line up to the skin just below Stevie’s ear, and she pauses to suck a bruising kiss there; makes Stevie squirm and whine, high-pitched, nasal noises that should be embarrassing. “Want to eat you out all night,” Eddie confesses in her ear. “Make you come over and over again on my tongue, on my cock—”

“Oh, my god.” 

“Yeah, baby?” She rocks her hips, shifts her weight to wedge a thigh between Stevie’s legs and grind down, firm, steady pressure that isn’t nearly enough. “You want to wrap your pretty legs around me and come all over my strap?” 

“Oh, fuck!” Her eyes fly open, something like panic as she realizes she’s about to come and not yet not without you inside me Eddie please, “I’m— holy shit, Eddie, please, I’m—”

She scrambles to clasp Eddie’s hand and drag it down her trembling body, squeezing the two sticky fingers and hoping Eddie speaks the language of “desperate cum bomb about to blow” — she’s fluent, apparently, because her eyes light up when she gets the message, and she wedges her arm between their bodies and slips her fingers through the slick mess Stevie’s making for her, rubbing over her swollen clit with her thumb as she hooks two fingers inside and says, “Fuck, yeah, baby, that’s it. Show me how badly you want to come, honey; come on, I know you want to, be good for me and come.”

Stevie’s whole body clenches, a star collapsing under its own gravity before it explodes across the cosmos, wave after wave of pleasure as she sobs out Eddie’s name. Eddie kisses her through it, tongue slipping into her mouth in rhythm with her fingers, fucking her slow and sweet and good, no one’s ever been this good before, and Stevie imagines this moment from Eddie’s point of view — how it must feel to make a pretty girl shiver and shake apart, how God must feel when he makes stardust. 

“Holy shit,” Stevie stutters on a winded laugh when she can speak, chest heaving under Eddie’s comforting weight. She kinda likes the way their boobs squish together. “That was…”

“Wow?” Eddie supplies, rolling off to lie on her back. 

“So wow,” Stevie nods. 

They catch their breath in comfortable silence for a second, and then Eddie hops up; comes back with a warm washcloth and a bottle of water. “So,” she says, dragging the damp rag over Stevie’s inner thighs, “I take it the experiment went well?” 

“Who’s experimenting?” Stevie jokes, sitting up to take a sip of her drink. “I think I’m ready to propose after that.” 

“Ha!” Eddie smacks a playful kiss to a mole just above Stevie’s knee. “Maybe dinner first.” 

“I’d like that.” 

It’s too sincere, maybe — too honest, laying all her cards face up on the table, which… historically hasn’t worked out so well for her. But she’s pretty sure the deck is in good hands this time around. Gentle hands with pretty rings and blunt black nails, and when Eddie answers her eyes shine like the night sky. “I think I’d like that, too.”