#the difference now is that the responsibility is being shifted off kids and parents and onto schools

[monstermoviedean]

at the end of my fucking rope with "conversations" about k12 chronic absenteeism.

[mrinafria]

I'll gladly let you kill me then.

-That promise, make sure you keep it.

So I think Daon's backstory is significant for us to understand a bit more about Han Daon as a character. He's got this huge scar from his childhood incident that he never really healed from. Also, he's no saint. We've seen him wavering in what he should/should not do more than once so far.

He knows giving police protection to criminals is a waste but still does it because it's the lawful thing to do. He wavers for a couple of seconds there when Kang Bitna offers to kill his parents' killer for him because the law cannot. From what I see, he's always walked on a thin line between what is right or wrong according to society's definition. He definitely has a violent streak in him; he's just never had to fully give in to that.

You bet he'd have ended up on the dark side after his parents' death if not for his noona who never gave up on him, turned him away, with her love and kindness, from a path that could have led him to darkness and uncertainty. Now that Detective Soyeong is gone, the person who showed him light is gone too. His only family after he'd lost his own, gone. And he's back to being that kid again who had so much unresolved hurt, trauma and angst against the law that didn't believe in him (a wound he still carries). Law that wasn't enough to give him his well-deserved justice. Back then, he had Soyeong who was a human and law abiding individual. Now, he has Kang Bitna aka Justitia, a demon who serves justice in her own way because she knows the human law is faulty. If Han Daon was guided to life and light back then because of Soyeong, would he then give in to death and darkness now, because he is already spiraling as it is and there's no one to bring him back to light?

Why do I feel Kang Bitna actually wouldn't want that? It was different back when she'd stabbed him, but the switch is flipped now, and I think she'd care very much about Han Daon's future and fate. The way she goes 'HAN DAON!' and 'Then you'll end up in hell too' and stares at him like she doesn't recognize this version of Daon--I've replayed that scene far too many times.

Because Bitna may say Daon's morality and tenacity to get to the truth is annoying, but I think she doesn't even know that she appreciates it, which is also why she gets so worked up every time she feels like Daon's faked his emotions or betrayed her with his words: she expects him to be on the side of truth and righteousness.

Even though we see her supporting Daon in the precap for eps 9 and 10, she might go out of her way and even risk her own existence to keep Daon away from darkness later, because now if something happens to him, she'd be the first one to cry.

A part of me also thinks Daon cannot go ALL the way with his revenge because he'd made a promise to Detective Soyeong to always be a detective first and do his job. It's his vengeance talking right now but once that wears off and reason kicks in, I don't think he'd want to kill somebody unlawfully, disrespecting the promise he made to his noona.

Or we could totally have a switch up with Bitna becoming the superego and Daon, the id. It'll be interesting to see if Bitna starts shifting gradually toward the 'unevil' side while helping Daon, having his back and protecting him. She might have to take Daon's life after all (deal with the Demon and all), but at a time when it'll hurt her THE MOST doing so. Maybe the power of Kylum can come to their rescue then, reviving Daon? It also makes me think if the 'Other Thing' you need for Kylum to work its divine magic is unconditional love/sacrificial love, where Bitna would have to willingly give up her life to revive Daon?

*cough* ^I take no responsibility for what I just said above thank you very much T-T

[stylesparker]

together again

PAIRING: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNINGS: ex-bestfriend!steve, bullying, panic attack, anxiety, mentioned parent death, angst, hurt/comfort, "i've got you"

A/N: sorry this request took so long, but I hope you enjoy anon! Thank you for checking with me first, and I hope this can offer you a little more comfort! <33

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" You knock yourself out of your stupor and look at Steve, his eyes gazing gravely at you. His arms are crossed, his hair is all styled up to perfection like always, and you think to yourself- how is it that you've been paired up with Steve Harrington, again, for another stupid project? Why you, of all people?

You definitely have to be cursed.

"You heard me, right?" He confirms. "My house after school?"

You nod, almost rolling your eyes a bit. "Yeah, totally." You huff before you ask, "since when have you been one to get a head start on school work?"

He chuckles, but it sounds more sarcastic than genuine, "Since I needed a good grade in this class to graduate, L/N. I'll see you later." He pushes off the wall, sauntering away in those stupid ass jeans that actually kind of make his ass look good. You shake your head, looking away from the boy and turn to face your locker once more.

As soon as you close it with your backpack over your shoulder, you hear familiar whistles coming towards you down the hallway.

Shit.

You start walking, hoping within an inch of your life these shitheads aren't coming to you, but you know better. A hand clamps over your shoulder, squeezing a little too hard for you to know exactly who it is.

Justin Andrews, the biggest dick in Hawkins.

"Heya, sweetheart, you miss me?" He laughs right into your ear.

"Not exactly."

"Oh, I know you did. Where ya' been? Haven't seen you around all week, was sorta starting to miss this pretty ass." His friends laugh beside him as his hand drifts down your shoulder and smacks your ass, catching you off guard and making you flinch farther from his hold.

"Been sick." That's all you answer, thinking maybe putting him off with short responses will get him to find somebody else, but again, you know better than to think this will be different than any other time before.

"Damn, that's a shame. I'm sure those kids of yours got a nice break from ya' then huh?" You glare at him as he offers a wide-grinned smile, winking at you before leaving you with another smack to the ass as a parting gift. As Justin and his pack of friends depart, you hurry away as fast as you can down the hall and out the doors before they can even think of coming back.

Once you finally get to your car and get inside, you throw your stuff to the passenger seat and take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. There was no way you were going to last period after that, and besides, your youngest little brother needed to be picked up from daycare today anyway. Luckily your other four siblings are a bit older and take the bus now, otherwise you probably would have dropped out at this point. You take another deep breath and drive off in hopes of getting your brother quickly, and home on time so you don't show up late to Steve's.

You do not want to deal with an angry Steve.

...

As the universe would have it, everything was against you today.

First, you almost got hit by some drunk pulling out of the bar halfway to the daycare. Once you got to the daycare, you had to wait half an hour since your brother had a tantrum and didn't want to leave in the middle of snack time. By the time you got him out of there, and into your car in his blue booster seat, it had been another 20 minutes. Usually it's about a 15 minute drive home from the daycare, but it ended up being a half hour due to traffic. After you finally made it home, you got a call from your boss asking you to come in again later tonight to take another extra shift since your shitty co-worker hasn't been showing up for two weeks.

At that point, you were about to lose it. You'd just gotten home and now you had to miss another family dinner tonight, much to your brother's disappointment. You wish you had just a moment to breathe, but everything has been so... chaotic lately, it's like you've been running a marathon for a month straight.

You opened the cabinet to see what food was in there, but it was only half a bag of stale potato chips, and a couple boxes of your sisters' favorite cereal. You sighed, holding your empty stomach. Leftovers tonight would have to suffice.

You took a quick glance at the clock at the wall, but did the world's fastest double take when you saw the time 4:30.

SHIT. You think. Steve is going to murder me.

Thankfully, you hear your mom pull in the driveway so at least you're not leaving your brother home alone. You grab your backpack and bolt out the door with your keys in your hand. You scream a quick goodbye to your mom while she watches you pull out of the driveway like a madman, and take off in a rush.

Fifteen minutes later, you're pulling into Steve's huge driveway, slamming the door behind you, and running up to the door with big huffs to try and catch your breath. You knock on the door three times, and pull your hand back down when you see the door already opening in front of you. When the door is opened, you're confronted by the boy you were dreading to see.

"I'm sorry-" you begin to apologize, but Steve immediately cuts you off.

"Are you serious? I asked you if after school worked and you told me it was fine, and now you're an hour and a half late!"

"Steve-" you try again, but he continues. You stand there, taking in his anger and frustration, and all you can do is blankly stare and nod, not even knowing what you're agreeing with. You shut your eyes and look at the ground, willing the tears to stay back while you twist your fingers in your hands. You don't even know when his voice lost its edge or when it even stopped at all, or when you'd been pulled inside and asked if you were alright. Your eyes are still closed, but your head feels like it's going to explode and you can't hear what he's saying. The tears are streaming down your face before you can help it, and your hands start shaking from how hard you're trying to hold back.

Steve's so taken aback, he can't even speak. He hasn't seen you like this in a long time, not since your dad died and you practically became a parent to your siblings. His heart breaks a little bit at the sight of you, and he feels a part of his old self coming back, wanting to comfort you and protect you just like he did growing up. Just like he's done his whole life, apart from the entirety of this year. He doesn't even care he's supposed to hate you and you're supposed to hate him in this moment, all he knows is that he's the only person that can help you right now, and he's going to do just that.

Steve's face loses its concern and he jumps into protective mode, bringing his hands up to hold either side of your face to get you to look at him.

"Sweetheart, I need you to calm down for me, yeah? What's going on, talk to me."

You stubbornly shake your head and refuse to look up at him. Your chest is still heaving rapidly, and he can tell you can't catch your breath.

"Don't be stubborn right now, I can't help you if you don't let me and you need to let me help you. I can't have you passing out on my floor now can I?" He tries to joke, but you don't get distracted, you keep your eyes down even though they've opened. He sighs, dropping one of his hands to grab yours and place them over his chest. "Slow down, take a deep breath, love."

"I-I can't-" you sputter out to the best of your ability, letting your hand ball his shirt up into a fist.

"Yes, you can. Take a good deep breath," you listen to him momentarily, following what he's doing, and when you do he nods and gives you a nice, soft smile, "there ya go, love, you got it. Do it again."

Seeing him be like this for you again brings you back to all those times you've needed him before, the memories almost came flooding back when you heard his loud voice turn soothing in an instant, just for you. His touch had always been grounding, always took off the pressure and allowed you to come back down, and you hadn't expected it to be the same after so much time apart, but now, it's like nothing changed. He's still Steve- he's still your Steve.

That thought alone comforts you more than anything else.

"Steve-" you whisper softly, "I'm so- sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Sweetheart, don't-"

"No, I have to. I've been horrible to you, and now you're helping me- I just-" you drop your head on his chest, and finally tell him everything. "I feel like I've just been going and going non-stop, and today was it, it was my absolute breaking point. After you, and Justin-"

"Justin? Are you- Are you serious? Is he still giving you shit?"

You gulp, "yeah," but you shake your head quickly, "but he's not even the worst thing, I just... ugh," you stop yourself before you start crying again but Steve feels like he knows.

"When's the last time you got some sleep?"

"I don't know.. a couple days ago?"

"Oh my god," he drops his head back and groans, which actually makes you laugh a bit. He immediately looks down at you, realizing the talking stopped you from panicking, or at least distracted you from it. "Hey," he nudged you a bit, getting you to look up at him, "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't of yelled at you, and I definitely shouldn't have left you that night-"

"That's not your fault, Steve. I pushed you away."

"Yeah, and I shouldn't have let you."

You look at each other for a moment, like, really look at each other. It's been so long since you've been able to hold each other like this, it almost doesn't feel real.

"C'mon, let's get you something to eat."

"It's fine-" you start, before he cuts you off again.

"No, shut up. If you haven't been sleeping, you definitely haven't been eating either, so let's go." He left no room for debate, so you just took his hand and followed him, letting him lead you through his house.

He gives you a couple of your favorite snacks, since he didn't have any sort of meals yet, but you seemed very content, so he thought it was better than nothing. He let you take your time, rubbed your back while you told him about the rest of your shitty day, and grabbed your hand again when he started up the stairs to his room.

"What about the project?" You asked.

"That can wait. You need some sleep first."

"Steve-"

He shook his head, "Nope. Not happening."

At last, you gave up and followed his lead again, which, as much as you'd hate to admit it, it felt nice letting someone else lead you around for a change instead of the other way around. For so long, it's been you taking charge and always bossing your siblings around, but it feels relieving to have Steve with you again to remind you it didn't always have to be that way.

You pulled back the covers in his bed and laid down, not even having to ask for Steve to join you, him already doing the same on the other side. Almost as if no time had passed, you curled up against one another, resting your head on his chest, and his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

"Go to sleep. I've got you."

His hands rub gentle circles on your back, soothing you and releasing the tension from your body as you slowly relax enough to fall asleep. You fight to keep your eyes open as long as you can, savoring this moment with him, almost as if he won't be here when you wake up.

"Don't worry, I'll be here."

Those words pull at your heartstrings, making you hold him tighter and bury yourself into him deeper, if you even can. Knowing that you're together again has you finally closing your eyes, and falling into a peaceful sleep.

[thatsatricky1]

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬

There are many things in life that others enjoy at a younger age much more than when they grow up. One of those things was seasonal holidays. Of course there are the most obvious ones that come to mind. New years, Easter, Halloween and Christmas.

Halloween was the time for little ones to explore creativity, dressing up as their favourite characters for the most part. They got to traverse the streets way past their scheduled bedtimes to go door to door in hopes of sweet treats getting dropped into their filling candy bags/buckets. Their parents rushing to get costumes or make homemade passable ones, watching their kids from the sidelines knocking on trusted neighbours doors and already thinking of the headaches they’d receive off their sugar high kids for the next couple of weeks.

Though as children start to grow up experiencing hardships and gruelling puberty Halloween turns into parties and hang outs. Costumes became more elaborate as their taste in media changed, no longer needing the help of their parents. For some Halloween has already become trivial and a past seasonal holiday they no longer participate in preferring to go about their mundane day or just putting on a quick horror flick.

Young adults indulging in the seasonal holiday, not for the childlike wonder it used to cause but as an excuse to party or celebrate only with the difference of wearing an outfit, a rare gem here and there but the main focus for most was to dress as elaborate as possible to catch the eye of others. Whether that be a goofy costume to get a laugh out of friends, or a sexy outfit to attract that one person they wanted most. Though for many, Halloween in that age range was already a long forgotten concept and not of importance with many other things in mind.

But just because you may not be indulging in Halloween it doesn’t mean Halloween won’t worm its way back into your life whether you want it to or not. Maybe just maybe you really should have paid attention to the rules of Halloween a little better, don’t you agree?

Y/n was no exception to time, growing up and growing out of her childlike wonder. Why focus on something like Halloween when she had deadlines to meet? A part time job that was really trying to push her boundaries on the ‘flexible shift times’ and going to university in an attempt of getting that one slip of paper that held hope for possible good jobs in the future.

She’d made it clear this year to each and every friend she wasn’t interested in being dragged to a Halloween frat party that was just another excuse for young adults to get drunk, high and forget about those stacking student loan debts and responsibilities looming. The closest thing she’d entertain was a quiet day in, a quick horror movie and then a well deserved nap.

So which one of her friends had decided to trick her on Halloween? She stared down at eight envelopes, each laying flat on her bedroom dresser in various colours. Each letter looked just as inviting to open, yet she picked the one closest that happened to be a crisp mundane white colour.

Grabbing her knife letter opener and slicing the top of the envelope clean open before dipping her index finger and thumb inwards, tugging out the lettered content inside.

Flicking it open and scanning the page she was met with very confusing context.

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝,

After all this time we were certain our intentions would have been clear to you by now, yet I think we must have overestimated ourselves in terms of how well we fitted in with your mundane life. Or to reword it a bit more bluntly, we toned down our true selves to be able to be near you.

However our patience only extends so far, we aren’t exactly known or fond of it. So in some maybe even sick way, why not do this around the time of year people decide to self indulge in the more thrilling seasonal event, Halloween. Quite ironic with the needed context.

Laid out on your desk are seven more envelopes, each varying in size and colour belonging to different individuals. All you need to do is pick one. Just one. And that in itself will give us our answer.

𝐒𝐃𝐒

Her hands were quick to close the letter, eyebrows furrowed in pure confusion. It lacked all and any context needed. Just words printed down on a clean sheet of paper. With a flick of her wrist, the letter was discarded, landing just an inch from the trash can below her desk.

Her eyes shifted now over to the seven unopened envelopes on her desk. Many questions flicking through her mind all at once. How had the anonymous sender known she’d pick up the white envelope to begin with? What would have happened if she’d opened up a coloured one? What will happen when she picks one envelope to open and read? Why only pick one?

Disregarding the hoard of questions, she held back a roll of her eyes considering just how dumb the whole situation was figuring she’d find out which one of her friends had done this soon enough when she read one of the letters in front of her. She reached her hand out, going off of pure instinct knowing exactly which envelope she wanted to open.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

Why not pick the Purple card? It was the obvious choice. It laid in the centre as if calling out, the better choice, the only choice. A perfect and neatly waxed seal right in the centre with lavender tucked underneath it, wafting a calming and relaxed scent into the air overpowering any other smell nearby. This was clearly the right one to choose.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Yellow card practically wanted to be opened, needed to be opened. It was meant for you and no one else. If only one could be opened it would be this one. A little too much golden wax around the seal proved that more was better. Two daisies nearly falling out of the envelope basically showed there were many more inside, all for you. The choice was already made the moment you laid eyes on the thick envelope.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Pink card called out, demanding attention, the delicious smell of floral scents hitting your nose just right in its delicate small pink pouch sitting at the corner on top of it. The waxed seal was messily like raw emotion stamped by its anonymous sender, drying before it could drip any further down the envelope. Picking this one was like breathing, you had to, it was just so tempting.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Green card, it should be the one you choose. None of them compared to this one, the leaves wrapping around the top so meticulously, leaves winding down to gently rest on top of the waxed seal that was perfectly circular with quite the curious choice of wording melted into it. It was supposed to be yours from the start, no one else’s.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Orange card looked enticing, a single flower tapped to the front of it as if a promise of what could lay inside considering it was thick, more flowers most likely waiting to be revealed. Even the waxed seal promised more and more, slightly overflowing from where it had been pressed too much wax having been used. And who were you to deny picking something with just that more involved inside.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Red card screamed, no demanded to be chosen. Rose petals flicked half hazardly underneath it, the waxed seal having been stamped with force, causing extra wax to be shoved outwards to the right side drying over the envelopes opening. A red silk bow laid on the bottom right corner whether an afterthought or meticulously placed there, it was loud and bold. Who were you not to give in to its demands, that was your card.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Blue card laid out on the desk was much less noticeable than the others, less elaborate. The waxed seal having most likely been pressed with little force by the way the melted wax oozed dry on all corners and lifted too soon to completely seal the envelopes opening, two pieces of sticky tape randomly placed on each side to properly close it instead. So little thought put into it, but even with little effort it was the most preferred one. Choosing this one was as easy as blinking.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun @bluedbliss @haechansbbg @officiallyjaehyuns @bunnychui @audreybub @sleepyvic @winwintea

(This Taglist is used for all my nct context so if you’d like to be tagged in my nct content please comment or write to me to be added)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Y’all better be as excited as I am for this, I’m hoping to have this posted on time for Halloween fingers crossed.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

Tap

[fawnpires]

EUTHANASIA ROMANCE — SIMON "GHOST" RILEY.

༉‧₊˚ ┊ PART 1.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ synopsis: working regularly under your older neighbor serving as a babysitter for his kids, several affairs start to occur, and not just your starting relationship with him.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: domesticity, afab reader (afab anatomy, femme pet names) mentions of pregnancy & marriage, size difference, age difference, single dad! ghost, secretive relationship, possessive sex, gentle & rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), slight daddy kink, brief somnophilia, dirty talk, breeding kink, shower sex.

You were still asleep, but Ghost wasn't.

He couldn't doze off with you right by his side, body pressed up right against him, heat radiating off your tender self — sensitive flesh, red tainted marks made of his own love. You were practically his own canvas as of now; the cum-stained sheets, the drying sweat, the carmine splotches tinting your skin — a pure and honorable symbol of his own work.

It was one of the rare and subtle moments he could be granted with — propped and balanced on one elbow, admiring your dozing figure, Ghost couldn't help but feel fragile in the moment. Almost compassionate. He had felt compassion before, of course, but never in this sort of way. (Thank his daughters for guiding him a little through his disarranged row of emotions.) While with you, he didn't feel the need to impress. There was no obligation to sit around and put on a face of imposed perfect-father-syndrome — he could really act as himself, and himself was an apathetic man. A man of a former task force lieutenant, an expert of manslaughter by the hand.

The idea of starting a family never crossed his mind. He wasn't the one to bear the concept of losing his heart to someone, starting something with them, chained down to the restraints of fatherly responsibilities and hardships. It wasn't so bad so far, he thought, and it had taken a weight off his shoulders with your support on the side. He stroked your hair — lovingly, abstractedly, his eyes of adoration while ensuing his large palm gently petting at you in soft motions.

Awareness was a virtue, and Ghost knew that when it came to your parent's suspicions towards your relationship with him.

Your rants every so often to him about being berated for spending too much time with him nearly split a tear in his cold heart. If he wanted to, he could — move the both of you away from here, start new, start new and whole as two individuals with his kids, your kids. There was nothing to stop that from happening but he was skeptical about your opinion on it, not wanting to push that kind of agenda on you so soon.

But it had been a little over a month, or more, since you had started something with him. You were comfortable enough to treat him not only as an occasional hot-dad hook-up, but a lover, a boyfriend, a husband. Hell — you were on edge, desperate for him. You longed for him and his presence when you were away.

You’d always have Ghost. You were his, and he wasn’t intending on letting you go.

Ghost reached the edge of your face and caresses your cheek in his palm, his thumb rubbing delicate circles into the skin. You were so peaceful in the moment, so exhaustingly beautiful, so fucked-out — and most importantly, his.

He had kept an eye on you before all of this — the entire baby-sitting shift, spending uncut days at a time with him, situating yourself as a motherly figure to his daughters. Whether out in the front-yard or by an exposing window to your blind eye, he would observe you for short periods of time. Ghost wasn't stupid — he was fully aware of your little crush on him. From your little peeks at his home through a curtain, down to spying on him when you were damn sure he wasn't mindful of the girl, considered stalker, keeping a close eye on him herself.

Of course, you were both so exceptionally strange towards each other. Stalkers in love, lurking at each other, keeping tabs when given the opportunity. He especially admired your benevolent demeanor which accompanied your alluring in-the-flesh appearance. Although he knew that you were far more than that — behind the guise of smiles and looks, you needed something much more; you craved so much more, and that certain crave was him. You had just been waiting for him, longing for that hopelessness to be taken away from you.

Why else would you have purposefully strive to catch his attention if it were not for wanting?

And last night — it was a whole new affair for you. An episode of heavenly bliss, he recalled you being so obedient, so pliant, so depraved, all of those things at once. He was a tad sympathetic for not giving more time into preparation, but he needed to be inside of you so badly. He needed to fulfill that hungering ache — and apparently, you did too; with how you gave into his touch so suddenly, allowing him to pound into you, backed with rabid pants and sweet moans. Ghost had wished the two of you could stay like that forever, making love out of refined affection by all means.

You were just irresistible and he had done so well keeping his poise. He had a right to have you. After all the planning from the moment he saw you, the insomniac nights where he planned ahead of time so you could grow close to his children — to him. After all the torturous days spent in sheer agony keeping you under close observation, paying regard to how your genuine personality was, how your breath caught on itself if he brushed against you in the smallest portions of physical contact. He deserved to have you.

It wasn't entirely wrong — the relationship, but you had corrupted him with your natural appeal — drawing him in like some bait to a wild animal.

He gently shoved himself closer to the warmth of you, a small sigh parting from your lips, taking into realization that a bulge in his sweatpants was plunged up right against the cloth of your panties. Your back arched up, just slightly, but enough to bring satisfaction and to tell that you were still asleep.

Ghost budged himself off, keeping sights of your soothed face before he props himself at your lower half — you scented of a sex-like smell, sweat and complete combined lust. His loose pants expanded tightly as his face met between your spread legs with the guidance of his hands grasping them apart. He wanted to fuck you right now — he could've — but he wanted to save it for later; save both you and him for later, when it wasn't deemed as unmoral. His fingers tucked around the waistband of your poorly thrown-on panties, sliding them down your legs with ease, trashing them to the side.

Your blooming scent sent him over the edge. His eyes squinted, lips parted in an intense awe. His fingertips grace over your thighs, lightly grunting at how a trail of goosebumps were left in the wake. You were so perfect in his viewpoint — all laid out for him, ready, waiting. He linked your sore legs in a locked hold much like last night, lowering his head closer to the puffy entrance of your cunt. The bottom of his balaclava was thrown up suitably to the freed expanse to his mouth and nose.

His tongue licked a slowly, yet sensible swipe up your lips. A small moan escaped your throat as your legs twitched in his hold, pants drawn from you with every increasing lick of his tongue. You were quick to stain his face with slick, the bump of his nose meeting your clit everytime he savored your taste with his lips clamped around your cunt.

You felt feverish, though maybe it was a real fever with a growing heat in your body. The heat was overwhelming, it needed to be rid of somehow. You were dousing in it. It was piling on top of each other, growing to extensive lengths as it invaded every inch and limb of your body. Your hands hauled themselves down to the source of the invading warmth, struggling to get a hold of what it exactly was. The temperatures were growing fast, too fast.

Fingers wrapped and caught a hold of something — or better yet, someone. Though not an actual army of heat and flames, it was a physical being, and it reverberated waves of sickly pleasure as it grew abnormally in position. Whimpers were forced out of you as it got too much.

Too immense for someone like you to handle.

Dazed, your eyelashes flickered open. Heavy and blinking away languid after effects. You were sober enough to be conscious of your surroundings — you were in a bed, a bedroom. It wasn't your bedroom back at home, clearly, with the distinct softness of the sheets and a window's silhouette that allowed you to bask in the dawn's light. The mattress was larger and was preferably more a fit for two people — a scent of masculine cologne breached over the air of the room as well, combining with a bitter smell of sweat. Astray in a temporary confusion, a shot of heat travelled through you, another moan cried out from you; it was more responsive and awake.

"Morning." Ghost rasped out from below you, voice vibrating from between your wet thighs.

Your eyes fell to the heavy weight from underneath, wearily assembling eye contact with the man — his voice alone couldn't help but light a small contentment in your chest. His calloused fingers tightly pressed into the flesh of your thighs, spreading them, leaving himself as a surprise for when you had finally chose to wake up. He lifts himself slightly and keeps the eye contact between you and him, his tongue fully pursed at your folds and meeting at your clit, sucking at the skin nub.

All you could do was sigh and pin your head to the pillows — the distinguishable scent of Ghost all around you in the material. Your back arched, hips rising and close to his face as he proceeded with his blissful ministrations.

"Fuck," you softly breathed, "Please, more..."

A deep chuckle resonated from his chest as he felt your wanting fingers brush at his wrists, dancing around his palms, petting at the skin.

His hand, in which you were fighting to grab a hold of, snatched onto your own — intertwining his massive fingers with your smaller ones in a delicate hold. Ghost's thumb strokes over your knuckles as he continues to eat you out, savoring the taste, and driving sounds of sexual want out of you. His opposite hand is raised to your entrance, teasing with every touch, prodding at your sensitivity.

"Ghost, your fingers," you panted, "I need them — need you."

He hummed, hauling himself away slightly from you — much to your foggy desperation — and steadily pushed one finger through, your body aching for more as you swallowed and clenched around him, section by section until his knuckle was pressed against your folds.

“Such a good girl, sweetheart.” he whispered.

Ghost mounted himself up your frame, his face inches away from yours, eyes scorching at yours through half-lidded eyes as he watched you writhe beneath him. You sunk your teeth into the skin of your lower lip that had grown chapped from constantly parting your mouth; followed moans and whimpers of airy breaths coming through it. He cocked his head to the side, flattening his lips to your own, yourself steadying on wobbling elbows to catch the kiss at a better angle.

The faint taste of you resided on his tongue — all around the tissue of his cheeks and teeth. He made you dizzy, faint, and you wanted more of it; he was nauseating, in a good way. You moaned against him, his other hand resting at your thigh raising to cradle the back of your head. His palm gave you some sort of support and comfort, and as he did, his sole finger occupying up inside of you was occupied with another, ripping a loud whimper from your throat.

He cradled you against the bed as he pressured his tongue into your mouth, lapping at nearly every crevice of your mouth. His fingers had curled in you, gasps slipping from your occupied mouth, pleasure pervading your body. They had pistoned in-and-out of you, escalating in speed with such intensity but also fragility.

"Want you to come for me," Ghost slurred between kisses, "You think you can do that for me, sweet girl? I know you can."

You managed to respond with a quivery nod, lips parted and eyes growing heavy as your vision began to blur at the borders from a suffocating pleasure. Ghost sped up his thrusting fingers the farthest he could, making certain they curled with each push, reaching the base of his knuckles as he caressed against that sweet spot he had pounded last night.

He had wanted the best for you, and that's why he focused his work on that spot, causing you to fully throw your head back to watch the ceiling through euphoric lenses. He caught on about that, gripping your chin firmly and forcing your fogged gaze to his. “On me, my love.”

With a few more purposeful curls of his large fingers at your sensitive walls and an applied pressure of his thumb over your throbbing clit, you had gushed around fingers; practically screaming his name. His lips form a smirk at the result of his creation, withdrawing his fingers as he exhibits them to you. They glisten under the light drawn amid the curtains, only able to watch as he raises the digits to his mouth, slurping up your essence — effectively cleaning it, never once breaking his eye contact with you.

"You're always so good for me," Ghost mutters, collecting his shirt from off the floor and cleaning at your thighs. "You want to stay for breakfast?"

"Hm," you hum, still basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, skepticism hitting you like a brick. "Fuck, wait — oh my god."

"What?"

In the present time, you were adrift, all memories of the previous day vanished over the course of your sleep — a great majority of it coming back to you.

"Fuck, did we sleep together?" you sit up, hands propping the weight of your head. "God — my parents are going to kill me — finding out I'm fucking you, you're so much older than me and you're my neighbor,"

"Honey, honey, calm down." he sits up with you, a hand resting at your bare lower back. "Listen."

Your rambles were interrupted with a peck of his lips. Ghost clasped the wrists that were at your head, pulling them down and rubbing gently into them. All of it was confusing, flustering as he crept closer to and kept his sight on you.

“We’re both adults,” he said, “and there's nothing wrong with making our own decisions.”

“But — I feel like a disgrace. To my parents, to everyone."

"You're not a disgrace, sweetie. It's just sex." Ghost releases your wrists and instead brings you to his chest, arms wrapping around you, eyes closing as you enveloped into him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "So, why don't you get yourself fixed in the bathroom over there, wake up the kids, and I'll make all of us breakfast. How does that sound?"

You stare up at him, blankly and in astonishment, only able to establish a single nod as he chuckles and gives you one last departing kiss — to your lips this time. Eyeing as he moved to gather the same duplications as what he casually wears from a cabinet; a black v-neck and a pair of dad jeans, put together with that same balaclava. He undeniably is well-built, tattoos lining up his left forearm, back muscles flexing as he fit the shirt over his head.

He shoots you one last stare, soft eyes and all, as he left the room — leaving you to get dressed.

Nothing had felt real — well, at least from last night up until now. You slept with the neighbor that kept you up at night with dozens of fantasies and received the affection reserved for a married woman — like you were his legitimate wife. With his requests to wake up the kids and to get dressed, you felt as if this were your absolute and authentic life, no parents across the street or reminiscences of only being a babysitter to his kids. Your head was stupefied, body trembling.

Gathering enough strength to balance yourself on the ground, you found the bathroom and locked the door behind, stumbling over to the sink. Your breathing was, hard, uneven — fingers gripping the edges of the sink before running water from the leaky faucet and splattering your face with cold water to bring you out of the trance of sleepiness and doubt. Your head throbbed as you grabbed a spare toothbrush, wetting and squirting toothpaste on the bristles, shoving it into your mouth.

Your affair with Ghost couldn't be considered home-wrecking. Taking into consideration that his wife was long-gone from the picture, his kids were to understand that their father would soon have to find someone replace her, but with someone younger — more like some kind of older sister instead of a mother or a wife to their dad. Though they would have to take it in anyways, their father had found love in his youthful neighbor from across the street and they would just have to stand it. His daughters had warmed up to you quickly anyways — still young and capable to see you as a mother. At least now you didn't have to completely fantasize about him on a daily basis, having the real physical thing for yourself and yourself only.

Snatching your dress off the bedroom's grounds and esteeming yourself as presentable, you left his room and sneaked out into the hushed hallways, making your way over to his daughter's bedroom door — pushing it open with a flat palm and fingers around the doorknob. You wake them up with gentle strokes to their strands of hair, assisting them with getting ready, masking your previous worries with a big grin every-time they had announced an achievement as simple as dressing up or making their beds. They were as equally ecstatic to see you much like last night, but questioned why you were still here — and with your own reply, you obviously couldn't say you had fucked their father so the easiest way out was to say that you'd had a sleepover of some sorts in the living room.

You indulged in their child-like conversations as they both kept a hold of your hand in theirs, leading them down the stairs and into the kitchen where you had told them to have a seat. You're met with Ghost leaned up a counter, now-gloved hands around the handle of a cup as breakfast had already been made out in plates on the table. It was something strangely straight out a movie, like some kind of set instead of an actual room — an actual house where you stood.

The tension was certainly there but with the kids present, it had grown more ill at ease.

Sitting on the wood of the chairs, Ghost followed in pursuit as he took a seat right next to you — right at the end of the table. You weren't as hungry as you anticipated, taking a few bites of your breakfast food before offering the rest to be shared between the two. You and Ghost had met eyes a few times before brushing it off with not a single word on it until that tension had thankfully been broke off.

One of his daughters spoke up, more specifically — the one sat directly at your left hand-side. With a simple, "Are you staying with us? Forever and forever?" of her words, you were left dumbstruck, gazing over at Ghost who had a look in his eyes of the same emotion.

"Maybe I will, hon," you said, "I'm not sure."

Visibly, she pouts — leaping off her seat and pushing herself into you, small arms wrapped around your stomach in an embrace. You stutter on breaths, only bringing a hand to her hair and smoothing over it repeatedly, eyes heavy with some sort of guilt with her beg to get you to stay. Ghost can only bring himself to lightly laugh despite himself also having some guilt at his daughter's words.

"Don't go and crush her heart now, sweetie." he said, indicating to her. "I'm sure she would love to stay with us if she could."

You hurtle a widened stare to him with raised eyebrows, unaware he was going to touch on the brought-up topic. The thing is; you didn't know how you were going to make that come true, abandoning all remnants of your old life to birth a brand new one right here in this very house. He could only shoot you a stare back — sort of scolding, commanding.

"Well, it's about time you girls get on with the day." Ghost lifts his head to a clock on the wall, straightening his posture and hoisting himself up. "You all have your fun, I'll be out back if you need me."

"You're just going to be out all day?" you ask.

"I practice with my old firearms." he said. "Right in the backyard with a couple of targets, just to gain the skill back."

"Ah."

"It's quite relieving, you should try it out sometime."

"I don't think I'm that trusting with a weapon, sir."

He chuckles coarsely.

"Then I guess I'll just have to teach you sometime," Ghost said, that bit of familiar knowing persona brought back now that it was only you and him — sole in the kitchen. "Different finger placements, methods, positions."

"I guess you should."

"That's my girl," he stretches an arm across the tract of both your shoulders. "And I'm thinking the girls will be fine for a little bit on their own, so we can kill a little bit of time."

“With shooting bullets all day?” you question.

“Not only that, doll,” Ghost’s face is close enough to feel his breaths through the texture of his veiling face-cover. “Something way different, I think you’ll love it even more.”

It was an excruciating, long session of firing and teasing.

You didn't really possess the strength to fight him back on it. You surrendered completely, because you weren't genuinely one to argue with others — so you approved the way he slid ever so close to you, both arms surrounding you so his bigger hands lead your own to the trigger of a handgun, his frame vast over. You spoke in a small and terrified voice in your head, fuck me, take me as your own, touch me. It had been the only understanding in that moment, his veined arms locked with yours and trapping you in some hold. Sex and gunfire.

Ghost was obviously oblivious to this — or maybe not as entirely as you interpreted, but either way he was bad at pretending. A small flame ignited within him (because of how hard he was around you, as if he isn't always) but it had been drenched with your unintentional grind-backs into his body, lightly sighing and squirming around as he positioned himself behind you each time.

The late afternoon had a douse of heat to it. Sweat leaked beneath his mask, your dress sticky to your skin. Every so often, his daughters would come out and ask an innocent request out of either of you or observe the ammunitions laid out before running back inside. Ghost had been heated from the outside conditions, helping himself to strip off his shirt, chiseled chest exposed and glistening with sweat.

It was more difficult to focus on keeping a finger on the trigger, his chest rubbing against your back — thighs clenching and eyes glossy. You didn't want to cry, or even felt the need to, but it was out of some persistent plead that retraced back to the voice that spoke through the innards of your head. Why would you bother crying, anyways?

You definitely held some regret in sleeping with him, but you were in love — apparently. As Ghost pressed into your sweat-soaked-fabric back, crotch carelessly pushed against you and your hips, he wondered if you had ever been in such love like this, freed and enigmatic, as the one you held with him now.

Enigmatic love. The term pushed aside.

"Place your finger right here, on top of this ledge," Ghost instructs, guiding you with his own commands. "Now keep a steady grip, and press down."

The bullet through the head of the gun rings out through your ears — painfully, gutting your ear-organs out one way and the other. It clanged out a couple of more times till the ammo wasted out, gun lowering to your stomach, a huff of air puffing from your mouth. Ghost had you in a tight clutch, tighter than usual, seeming that you would break and run away from him.

"Perfect as always, love." he said, pressing a kiss full of cloth to the back of your head.

"I don't know how you do this for hours at a time," you confess, "Rings my ears out a little, I might go deaf, you know?"

"I'm used to it."

"It's getting dark, should we head back inside?"

"Shit. You're right, come on."

He wraps a bare arm around you, pressing you to him, his naked chest heaves unevenly at your backside. The inside of the house holds more moisture than outside, stuffy and hellish to breathe in, natural air banished. His kids had left small clutters of toys on the living room's table, television running some low-budget children's show, their only guessed presence was upstairs — maybe asleep, maybe not, it would some kind of miracle for them to put themselves to sleep without the assistance of an adult.

You look to him with some sort of pray to your eyes, an absence in your chest as if you longed something from him.

"Simon," you whispered. "Carry me."

"Carry you?"

"My feet are killing me, your trainings wore me out."

For a second, he hesitates, but rolls his eyes and gives in.

"Alright, give it here," Ghost unwraps himself from you and bends his knees to hoist you up. "You owe me for this one, sweetheart."

"Owe you for such a simple request?"

"I'm messing with you, dollface," he said, "You don't owe me a single thing except all that love of yours, and that body."

You smack him on the nose of his mask, playfully, wearing it away with a kiss pressed to it.

A kitchen wasn't good enough — it was too open, with windows all around for bystanders to see what the two of you were up to. Every room in the home was too polluted, so there was nowhere else but his bathroom to fuck in. His bedroom was too easily accessible, but the bathroom had more security to it, oddly enough.

"We should freshen up," you implore, "You smell like shit, I smell like shit, we're both sticky."

"Guess you're right."

"Is that a yes, then?"

"Well, we're not going on with the night all sweaty and reeking." Ghost replied.

His bathroom was spacious, a fit for two people, which was admittedly ideal for you and him. Locks on both the bedroom and bathroom door had been fastened, an excuse to his daughters of not interfering, to which they effortlessly agreed to. Two sinks, a single toilet, and a tub with a curtain for more provided privacy.

"Can you get that?" you ask of him, pointing to the zipper of your dress.

Ghost idly fidgets with the iron of your zipper before his fingertips brush at your exposed skin, dragging it down and unveiling the skin of your back. You finish it off by pooling your dress at your ankles, left in your set of undergarments — inspecting as he rids of his jeans and walks over to the tub, leaning over to run some water into the bowl of the porcelain thing.

For some concealed reason, he purges of every article of clothing plastering his build except that mask. That same mask of a skull and balaclava. It was unusual — He was unusual, he always was. Acquainted with him or not. It made you uncomfortable and turned you on at the same time, a division of yes-no, the outline of his body and the way his biceps flexed, a great mass of it came at you all at once.

You sat on the lid of his toilet, waiting. He leans at a wall as he waits for the water to fill a some perfect mark, switching the faucet off and turning to you. His boxers are peeled off with bulky fingers, the last portion of clothing on him — Ghost climbs in first, you soon following close behind, right between his spread legs that rested at each corner of the tub. It wasn't exactly quiet, just graceless and gauche, baring pure nakedness and that had been the strongest form of reliance. The overhead ceiling light reflects off the ripples of water, off the combined skin of you and him.

He only huffs, flicking droplets of water on your face before leaning further back and stretching his arms along the edge of the tub. His knuckles popped and his neck crackles as he rolled it, suppressed echoes into the dimly-lit room. You wielded a soiled cloth across your arms, water streaking over your skin in an effort to swab the sweat and gunpowder off.

"There's some on your back," he noted, eyes running along your back and spine.

"Mind getting it for me?"

"Hand it."

The cloth does wonders in his hands and on your back, scrubbing rather brutishly than you intended, between your shoulder blades and sides. Your humiliation of being naked around him had decayed away, there was nothing revolting about doing so, despite him already have seeing your body — and fucking it. He was tender and treated you like a play-thing, a pretty play-thing of his own.

You glance over your shoulder at him, not concerned about hiding a morbid interest as your eyes flickered over his obscured features. His balaclava clung to his nude neck, black eye-paint sweated off the scope around his eyes which crinkled in concentration. His broad shoulders littered with some scars, some faded and some fresh, biceps in his arms reeling as he washed away the blotches of filth from your skin that had been built-up over the course of the day.

"Don't give me that look, love, you're making my dick hard." he half-jokes.

"Your dick's already hard."

"Well maybe we can take care of that after a bath, yeah?"

"But why not do it now?" you spur him on a little, that doe look in your eyes, lips molding some sort of pout.

Ghost was beginning to appreciate this new side of you. You lacked a great deal of timidity — your improvements of confidence, libido, want. Your words cause him to pause the rag in its tracks, slithering it down.

"Little minx, aren't you?" he chuckles, shifting you around in his lap so that you were facing him — water splashing in your wake. Like previous sessions, he lifts the basis of his mask, visible of lips and nose. Kisses seep into your skin, head bowing back to give more access.

"Only for you, daddy." you pant out. "Only you."

Your words corroded over him — ashamed was nothing of existence as you watch him process the nickname. His jaw tightens, a measured breath streamed from his nose, his eyes closed for recollection as he continues with his kisses.

"Daddy, huh? Love when you use your words with me, love." he said, breathless. "Want you to call me that while I fuck you."

Hearing you use that term to describe himself was so natural, so instinctive. Your head was flooding again — foggy and blurry on nothing but the thought of sex. His hands knead at your breasts as if they are dough, fingers teasing at your nipples, whimpers falling into his mouth as you went drunk on his lips yet again — the water against your cunt dispensing some alternate method of pleasure whenever his fingers or girth weren't there to indulge you with.

Clamminess cools on your inner thighs and right at your cunt regardless of the moisture of the water all over the place. You clench around nothing in Ghost's absence. He rolls you over with his strength — having you pinned down where he once sat, thighs spread at the edge of the tub.

"So desperate for me aren't you, sweetie?" he breathes, "All you want is for me to breed this sweet cunt all the time, so fucking needy."

"Please, daddy, fuck me, need you inside me."

"You really need it that bad, doll?"

"Need it so bad, fuck, please," you whimper out.

Ghost is fond of the idea of teasing you, but not to an extreme extent. He falters to your begging and leans back, brand new rounds of whimpers knocked out of you as he smacks the tip right against your clit. You roll your hips at it, back arching, striving to chase the sensation.

"Beg for me nicely, show me your good-girl manners." Ghost said. "Show me how much you need me, long for me."

"Please fuck me, daddy." you manage between whimpers. "I want you to breed my pussy like I'm your good girl."

He succumbs to you, thrusting in slow and steady as you accommodate the stretch of him inside. The constant agitation of his stretch crowded your mind, all of him — him, him, him. Kept above you, Ghost grunts and pants, his palms massaging at your breasts as he starts off slowly pushing into the snugness of your cunt.

"Feel so fucking good," he mutters, "So tight for me, such a tight little pussy, all mine."

You can barely make out what he's saying over the ringing that stranded in your ears — ringing like the bullets forced from the muzzle of his firearms. The blunt head of his cock drills at your cervix in a pressure once he speeds his rhythm of thrusts up, your mind numbed, his thumb circling at your clit while your legs rest at his shoulders — water in vast amounts sloshing around with every movement.

"So deep," You whimper, nails digging at his forearms, nearly feeling him at your chest. "You're so fucking big, daddy."

His thrusts gain some growth, — no more short pauses in between, but constantly feeling up your warm walls which clutched around him like a fleshlight. You swear he's leaving a bulge in your lower stomach with the amount of brawn he uses to fuck you.

"You're all mine, you understand? Going to make you my pretty wife, marry you, fuck you full of my babies every night, we'll live a happy family here — to hell with all of that babysitting shit, you'll be the perfect mother to my children."

"Yes, yes — please, make me a mother, I don't care," you scream out, "I'm yours forever."

"My sweet little darling girl," he said in a half-sung sigh of some exhaustion and some sexual appetite, "I'll breed this pussy everyday, until you give me a child, day and night — nonstop."

You're whining and whimpering out for him, entire body quivering with the sustained need to be filled, twitching in a spasm. Ghost shows you what love is like — what it's meant to feel loved, to be loved; physical touch and words of praise that made you feel like his number one priority. His name embedded and chanted into the waves of the tub as his assaults on your pussy are more inconsistent but harsher, deeper, feeling every motion right at your cervix — nearly at your womb.

With a symphony of shrill moans and profound groans — his warm release is shot inside of you with his hands in a deep grasp of your hips and a grunt. Your heartbeat reaches soaring levels of speed. His cum is thick and has a tad of warmth of it, feeling as it reached up into the levels of your womb. Ghost gives a few more thrusts to your sensitive cunt, low whines falling from your mouth; he stops and lingers in position, out of breath, and collapsing over you. Some of his cum leaks out and mixes with the water, which has gone cold by now, but a huge majority is sealed within you. You're sensitive, wincing, a buzz in your lower stomach on repeat.

He lifts himself and stares into your eyes, a kiss to your lips, bringing you to his chest in a cuddle.

"Did you really mean it?" you breathe out through the loud silence, "Marrying? Starting a family here?"

"I only want the best for us, sweetheart," he said, a crush of triumph beating at your heart.

You were a picturesque of beauty in his eyes — even all fucked-out and sensitive laying in a tainted tub, you were the definition of it. Promising to be his good little housewife, to be the mother of his children, yet always his good little girl. He had given up everything for the military, wartime, so he could give up everything for a domestic life that had ran far past the atmosphere of violence; give up everything for you.

He feels as you nuzzle into his chest, his arms wrapped around your entire frame, head resting at his shoulder.

"I think... I think we fucked enough for today." you said.

"You think so?"

"We had sex in the morning, practically you edged me during that long training session, and now you fucked me in your bathtub."

"Me? Edging you? I think you mean teasing."

"Teasing, edging, whatever — you had your chest pressing up all against me — your sweaty and massive muscles."

"That wasn't my intention," he said chuckling, "But coming inside of you was definitely intentional."

[acewritesfics]

One down, five to go | Steve Harrington 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Request: No

Warnings: Unplanned planned pregnancy, one sexual innuendo, a hint of clueless Steve.

Word Count: 951

Stranger Things Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Y/N found out she was pregnant not long after she and Steve discussed their future plans. They had talked about getting married and having children. Steve desired to have six children, and she agreed because she wanted a large family as well. They weren’t expecting to have their first child right away, having agreed to wait a few years and get married first. Both of them were excited but also terrified even though they have plenty of experience with children, having spent the last couple years running around with a bunch of kids, making sure they were safe and didn’t get themselves killed while battling monsters from another dimension, or as Steve calls it - babysitting.  

When the soon-to-be parents announced their pregnancy to those closest to them, everyone was as surprised as they were. Their friends were the happiest for them and even fought over who would be Baby Harrington’s godparents. It came as no surprise when Steve asked Robin to be the godmother of his unborn child. It took some convincing from the couple, but Robin agreed after Y/N convinced her she would be a wonderful godmother and aunt and that they didn’t want anyone else being their baby’s godmother. 

Steve’s parents, on the other hand, were a different story. His absentee parents had been pressuring the young couple to marry before the baby was born. The shame of their 18-year-old son and his 18-year-old girlfriend having a child born out of wedlock was something they didn’t want to experience. The last thing the Harringtons wanted was for their son to be the talk of the town. Steve’s father had decided to cut him off financially as punishment for refusing to work in his father’s office while attending college. He eventually found work, but it was short-lived due to the ‘mall fire.’ But, thanks to Robin’s help and support, he was able to quickly find a new job at the video store, while Y/N picked up extra shifts at Enzo’s. 

Steve left his parents’ house and moved in with Y/N and her mother. The couple knew it would be the best option until they could save up enough money to rent their own home. Y/N’s mom had been nothing but supportive to the young couple, telling them they could stay as long as they needed. She knew what it was like to be 18 with a baby because she had given birth to Y/N when she was only 17 years old. Y/N was born a week before her mom’s 18th birthday, and Y/N’s father enlisted in the army as soon as he found out he was going to be a dad, hoping to get as far away from his responsibilities as possible. She’d raised Y/N on her own, so she always pitched in wherever she could, from buying baby supplies and furniture to taking Y/N to appointments when Steve couldn’t because he couldn’t get an hour off work, to making sure Y/N had everything she craved and needed. This experience had brought them all closer together. Y/N and Steve were convinced they couldn’t do it without her mother’s help. 

They are now two weeks away from their baby’s due date, and no one is more nervous than Y/N and Steve. Despite her mother’s and their friends’ assurances, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking of every worst-case scenario possible, thanks to overhearing some of the other women in her lamaze class discussing their birthing horror stories. Steve had tried to calm her down by telling her not to think about it, which earned him a night on the couch. She was aware she was overreacting, but she felt Steve was disregarding her fears and concerns. She apologized the next day, cooking him breakfast before he went to work. 

She was currently going through some of the baby clothes they’d been given by some of the moms on their street. “What do you think of this one?” she asked Steve, holding up a pink onesie covered in yellow ducks.  

“It’s cute,” he says, his gaze fixed on the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’s making for her.  

“You didn’t even look at it!” she grumbles as she frowns at her boyfriend. As their daughter kicks her, her frown turns into a wince.  

“Are you okay?” Steve asks as he observes her wince and gently massages the area where she was internally kicked. 

“Perhaps she’ll be a soccer player instead of a basketball player,” she grumbles. The next two weeks couldn’t come soon enough. The doctor had warned them that their baby girl could arrive at any time now, and as terrified as she was, she hoped the baby would arrive sooner. 

“Or a swimmer,” he says as he removes the baby onesie from her hand and replaces it with the plate her sandwich was on. “Now go sit down, put those feet up, and I’ll finish going through all of these,” he says, placing a gentle hand on her belly and rubbing circles on it in the hopes of calming their highly active baby.  

“Does that get me a foot rub?” She smiles at him, giving him the puppy eyes he knows his daughter will inherit from her. 

“Foot rub, back rub, belly rub,” he says. “I’ll rub you however you like."  

"Isn’t that how we got into this situation?” she laughs.  

Steve took a moment to realize what he’d said. He couldn’t argue with her about that. The conception of their daughter had begun with a back massage. “Just sit down.” 

She kisses him and moves to sit on the couch, the plate she’s holding balanced on her large belly as she eats her sandwich watching him go through the baby clothing. 

[endereies]

FUCK IT - MATT STURNIOLO

Spotify Playlist:

Pairing: Matt x Oc

Contains: Growing up with parents who make her feel isolated, what happens when she meets Matt. A person who introduces her to new people, new experiences and new feelings.

Requested?: no

Author's notes: My first ever fic which is crazy but I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it (hopefully it will have consistent updates)

Word Count: 4857

“Is this something we are meant to do?”

“Fuck it.”

Seeing the hallways early in the morning was always an eerie feeling. The corridors that normally bustle with kids and teachers were now silent, the only sounds being my own footsteps that thud on the marbled floor below. That never failed to make me paranoid. I pull a headphone from my ear, taking my case out my pocket with my spare hand. Usually, I am then met with anticipated silence as my music dims from my ears; today was different. My body pauses at the door to the music room, my hand hesitates to reach for the handle as sounds of drumsticks that crash against snare drums and cymbals interrupt my normal routine. I grow curious and open the door wide and I walk through the doorway, the guitar on my back slamming the door into the brick wall behind it. A loud crash echoes behind me which startles me and the boy who remains sat behind the drum kit. My face falters once our eyes meet and I realize who it is.

Matthew Sturniolo

“You have to be shitting me” I mumble and grit through my teeth, laying my backpack and guitar case onto the sofa opposite the drums.

“Shit sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone in here...” he almost groans back, seeing my demeanor towards the situation.

“Yeah evidently” I return my words with a sarcastic tone, practically mocking his obvious statement. I sigh and slump down on the sofa which my backpack now leans off of. The sound of leather creases below me and I adjust myself on the uncomfortable material, my foot immediately finding this as an opportunity to tap against the carpeted flooring. “So, how long do you plan on staying in here?”

He lays his drumsticks on the drum watching them proceed to roll off, awkwardly trying to catch them as he now stammers making me raise an eyebrow and scoff.

“U-uhm well until class starts, do you need to practice your... guitar?” he peeks his head around his cymbals to view the case my instrument is carried in.

My feet awkwardly shuffle on the floors “obviously not as much as you do.” I grovel in response rolling my eyes before propping my body weight up from the sofa to lean against my knees.

“What’s that supposed to mean.” He mutters with a slightly colder attitude than previously possessed.

“Calm down, not like that, I mean… you’re in several performances for the band’s talent show next weekend. I was saying it was a higher priority than my...” I trail off now focusing my gaze on my guitar casing “hobby.”

“Oh.” His voice weakens, almost timid now realizing his now false accusation. He shifts on the seat and manages to look me in the eye again.

I drag out a tangled lead from the side of my case, flashing the headphones to Matt before practically throwing them on the couch as I drag my guitar out of the case, kicking the wrapping off to the side. I lean the guitar up against the height of the sofa as I start to untangle the lead with both my hands. I weave my fingers through the loops and slide the cable against itself. The length of the cable eventually reveals itself with the final tug on the wire.

The click from the guitar plug completes my set up as I start to tune my guitar, listening to the string’s pitch change as I twist the tuning pegs. The odd chord here or there slowly blends together until the strings match the necessary sounds. Leather beneath me creaks again as I sit back down the sofa with the guitar lying under my arm and on top of my thigh.

Matt trails from the conversation and picks up his drumsticks creating a light beat with the tips of them. It was a basic beat merely to gain a tempo before he nods his head to a new beat that I instantly recognize.

Dark red – Steve Lacy

I begin to study Matt’s actions, them intriguing me for the first time this morning. His hands are focused on the beat of his drums, occasionally hesitating before another sound emits from the skin of the drum. His pace steadies more as he concentrates on his movements. I find myself tapping the body of my guitar lightly to the beat he makes. Matt nods his head gently to the drums which causes a strand or two of hair to fall Infront of his face, resting just above his eye. I swallow harshly and look down to the strings on my own instrument and I pluck at them before strumming to create an occasional note from the song matt is playing.

I give in, however, and adjust my guitar on my lap so that I can play the song properly. Grabbing my pick that is sat beside me, tainted with its own ‘dark red’, my guitar now hums with the according notes.

He snaps out of his focused state and snaps his head over to me with a smile. For some reason it makes me smile back as I continue to play the song more passionately as I hum the lyrics to keep me on beat. I hear a breathy laugh from his direction as we then hit the chorus which makes me smile once again. Thankfully he is only focused on the drums.

I feel his gaze on me when its time for me to change my chords for the verse. I follow suit and switch the tune as the beat drops, I strum a little harder on my guitar which makes a stronger sound emit from my instrument. I keep humming the words to the song gently in tune with Matt’s drums; I steal another glance at him. He isn’t smiling much as before but you can instantly feel the passion as he plays and nods his head. He doesn’t seem to care about anything else, not the strands of hair that fall from their initial position, not the amount of noise he is making at 8:12am or music sheets that slide further of the holder. Something about Matt’s playing almost distracts me, every music class I’ve been too everyone looks so forced into their instruments. Those kids even make me feel negative about music at times, but this? This is different.

He looks up at me, meeting my gaze and I instantly look back down to the guitar resting on my lap. I purse my lips together as the final 30 seconds of the song reach. Matt stops playing the drums to allow me to finish, finally fixing his hair and slicking it back over himself. The last chords I play are slower, softer and relaxed. I stroke the strings on my guitar slowly and sigh once the noise quietens.

A silence falls between us both. Both our breathing is a little heavier but not enough to be noticeable to the other.

“You can play guitar.” He speaks with a cocky smile as he leans back onto the stool below him.

“As if this was for show” A quite scoff escapes my throat as I retort. “You don’t play bad yourself”

“Thanks...” His tone diminishes to a calmer and more confused one, he looks at me with an expectant expression.

“Alyia…” I respond.

Playing songs with matt was refreshing from anyone who I normally play with, he can actually play his instrument.

The next week follows the same routine. I walk in the music room, greeted by matt and we play music together. It wasn’t like it was for fun or anything, only to help him practice for the talent show.

That’s what I kept telling myself at least.

-

“Good morning.” I speak into the room without acknowledging my surroundings. I take off my jacket and throw it onto a chair nearby and place my guitar case on the carpeted floor.

“Hey” A voice emits from behind me rather than its usual location behind the drum kit.

I turn my head sharply to the drums and I notice they are strangely empty; I turn my head another 90 degrees and my eyes meet matt. He is leant against the door frame with his drumsticks resting in his cross arms which lie against his chest. He adjusts his position so he stands straighter and slicks his hair back with his palm.

“don’t do that Matt, you scared me” I turn again to face my guitar, leaning down to unzip the casing and reveal my black guitar.

“you’re here early, how come?” Matt strides past me and takes a seat at the drum kit before tapping the base drum a few times.

“Well. You are here before me and this is the last day before the talent show tomorrow, why not?”

“Ah. Can’t get enough of me, can you?” he laughs at his own joke and shakes his head slightly. Before I can respond to it, he chimes in again. “What song today, Alyia?”

I finally take position at my ‘designated seat’ and strum a gentle #C chord. “Uhm...” I drag the m through my pursed lips before muttering. “What one is your weakest?”

“Fuck I don’t know? ‘There she goes?’ I keep going to fast about halfway through the damn song” he grumbles with mild self-deprecation and clicks his tongue against his cheek.

I don’t respond with any words but simply tuning one of my strings and immediately strumming the initial pattern to the song’s melody. I nod my head to keep in beat until matt joins in 10 seconds in with light cymbal taps, finally playing his base with more momentum 5 seconds later.

I enjoyed playing this song a lot more than the rest. Even if it did repeat itself, it only made it harder to mess up the chords. The pace was slow but enough to keep me entertained and created a soothing atmosphere that made me forget about the blisters that were starting to form under the rough skin on my hands from the week’s excessive playing. My arm that relaxed over the body of my guitar allowed me to relax into the song more.

I take a glance up at Matt for what feels like the millionth time this week and I see those same strand of hair as before fall onto his face, he manages to tilt his head and jolt it slightly to flick them back into place without ruining his pace.

I play fast about halfway through the damn song.

Not true. He plays it perfectly; we stay in tune with each other the entire time. Even when I add an extra note or riff to mess with him, he stays on beat.

Weird.

I finish the song with a gentle stroke on my stings with dissipates into the air around us. My eyes meet his again.

The door then swings open with a slam as it hits the brick wall in the same place that I hit it the first time I spoke to Matt.

“Mattyyyy” A voice echoes off those same brick walls which is followed by a groan from behind the other.

I hear Matt sigh once he relaxes from his jump scare. I still recover from mine as my body starts to relax once more. Curiously, I face where the voice came from and two boys enter the room and walk towards Matt, one quicker to hug Matt than the other. I recognize their faces as you can easily match them to Matt’s own expression.

“Hey Chris? What are you doing here...? Matt welcomes him with a side hug, holding his drumsticks in the hand that wraps around his back.

“I told him not to bother you but as per usual… He. Didn’t. Listen.” The third one speaks in a monotone voice through his gritted teeth before he puts his weight on one side of his body.

I stay silent, not wanting to disturb the interaction between the three, just lightly tapping on the edge of the sofa, plucking clump of fabric between our fingers. My guitar still rests upon my thigh, my fingers of my other hand lightly plucking at the strings as it drapes over the body of it.

“Whatttt, I haven’t heard Matt play in forever, he has basically shut himself in here for a week” Chris groans and wipes his hands over his face as he slumps on the third’s shoulder which pushes him to the side.

“Jesus Chris its not that bad, you will hear him more after the talent shows.” He retorts as he pushes Chris’s body weight off of him with both arms.

“Well, it’s nice for you two to show up...” he speaks with a calmer tone than previously as he then hints towards me with a simple head tilt.

Both the two boys turn their bodies in my direction and abruptly pause their sentences. An awkward silence comes over us and I offer a weak smile.

“Oh, my bad, whoops” Chris mutters towards me, becoming a little quieter than before and stepping back towards Matt “Nick, why didn’t you tell me someone else was here dude.”

“As if I fucking knew” Nick sighs as he side-eyes the younger boy. He turns his arms outward before dropping them to his side once more.

“Guys this is Alyia, she is the one who I mentioned who can actually play guitar without making our ears bleed.” Matt points his drumstick at me and waves it in a tight circle while leaning on one of his drums. He hints at me with a sincere smile.

“Uh, hey?” I practically mumble these words to the group of them; they all face me with blank expressions as we grow quiet in unison, the only sounds being the scratch of Chris’s soles on the rough carpet as he shuffles his feet subtly.

A meek wave is given as nick raises his hand to me hesitantly. He looks to Chris and Matt, rolling his eyes as they don’t speak again.

“So, you were the one who scared matt shitless the first time you met?” Nick’s voice fills the awkward silence.

“I mean that’s one way to put it I suppose”

Great introduction Ally

“Guys look, this is nice and all but why are you two here exactly. You are never here this early unless I beg you to join me.” He pauses as he ponders about the situation that he made clear “wait, did Nate drive you here?”

Nick nods his head strongly as does Chris, who has stopped shuffling his feet now.

“Yeah, Nate did give us a lift, and all Nick did was play Melanie the entire 15 minutes. I gave up and put headphones on” Nick then lightly elbow’s Chris in the ribs with gritted teeth, his gaze remains on Matt’s drums.

“Anyway, Miss Ackley is rounding up the bands for a final practice between people for tomorrow, we said we would grab you and bring you there.” His arms cross over each other and he sighs heavily.

“Fuck. This early? Damn, whatever…” A long sigh escapes his lips as he pushes himself up from his previous slouched demeanor. He slicks his hair one last time as he stands up and paces towards his backpack which seems far too empty to contain more than one book, maybe a pencil case if you’re lucky. Perhaps it was because the straps were worn out and tired from previous years. We were seniors after all.

I track his motions with my gaze, watching Matt’s footsteps hit the ground harshly, more so than on average. I can feel the vibrations under my own sneakers.

Both Nick and Chris race ahead of Matt, already leaving the doorway they previously crashed through with energy. However, Matt slacks behind whilst I turn my focus back to my guitar, expecting him to follow suit and walk out.

“You should come watch the show tomorrow, I’d like you to see that our practice wasn’t in vain.” His fingers pick at the chipping wood that hug the door frame.

“You sure? Its not like you needed the practice to begin with.” I raise an eyebrow and let out a breathy laugh for a short moment, which is only interrupted by his words.

“I’m positive. I’d like to see you there for at least one song.” His eyes essentially plead at me as he feigns a pout with his bottom lip, hoping for me to surrender, which I do.

“Fine. One song got it.?”

He salutes at me and pushes himself from the doorway, letting his fingers linger there for as long as he can before he turns the corner. That leaves me sat alone in the music room, which hasn’t been the case since before I met Matt. It feels wrong now.

After a few minutes, the silence becomes too deafening for me to work in so I pack up my equipment and leave the music room in search of the library. I couldn’t work in that silence I once used to wish for every day.  

-

The talent show was never all that important to me, if it was I would more than likely participate in it with my guitar. Matt is the only reason I ever showed up this year. I’ve only known him a week and normally I would just refuse, however, the fact that he is playing and playing well makes me want to go. Finally having someone else that can actually play music is more appealing to a musician than you may think.

-

An alarm blasts from my phone reading 6:15pm.

Shit. I’m running late.

I grab my bag, shoving some basic necessities into it as I exit my room in a hurry and speed down the stairs, skipping a few at a time. I turn the corner of my banister, quickly placing my hands Infront of me to stop myself from crashing into the cream-coloured wall that is now facing me. I use that momentum to push myself towards the front door, grabbing my keys on the way out, letting the door slam behind me.

*Matt pov*

“Hey Quinn, can you help me set up my drums? I got shit to do real quick” I walk offstage and adjust the earbud in my ear slightly, tilting my head as I do so.

“Uh sure? Just give me 5.”

I only respond with a nod from behind having already walked past Quinn whilst I walk to the main dressing room. The hallway echoes with my shoes squeaking as I walk heavily with long strides. People inside immediately perk up and glance to the door that swings open.

“Yo, Nate you coming out or what, I need you backstage on music, we have to start in 10 minutes.” As I talk, I seem rushed and a little stressed with my words; everyone is so nonchalant about the fact that they all have to be ready in 10 minutes and I am the only one currently onstage.

Nate stands up and walks towards me, grabbing my wrist lightly and pulls me out the doorway, the door lightly clicks behind us unlike the crash that I had previously made.

“Dude, you have to understand that this isn’t a theatre or concert. No need to stress, no one cares this much but you.” He jolts his elbow into my rib with a smile on his face.

“Ugh” I groan and roll my eyes, leaning off from Nate’s grip which remained on my wrist. “I know, I know, I just want it to go well. I rarely ever get to show off my drums to anyone, let alone a whole school.”

“Well, I’m ready, go get Martha and Dan and finish setting up. I’ll get my shit turned on now, ‘aight?”

A sigh escapes my lips as I nod my head slowly and separate from Nate, returning to backstage. I feel relief when Martha and Dan wave me over from their positions they take on stage behind the curtain. I take faster strides to my drum kit which is now fully set up and, looking back over my shoulder to see Quinn give me a thumbs up which I appreciatively reciprocate.

Once I take my seat my leg immediately bounces up and down making the floorboards under me creak ever so slightly. My fingers follow the same pattern and start to spin my drumstick meticulously between each finger one at a time circulating my hand repeatedly.

I get a cue from Nate at the side and I immediately force my foot on the bass pedal and strike it steadily. After 8 counts the snare and floor tom got added to my rhythm. By now the curtains have started to open for night and draw to each side. I try and focus on the beat I’m creating but my eyes can only fall to the audience and I start to scan almost instantly. At first, I’m not sure what for but then my brain catches up with itself.

Alyia

Dark Red – Steve Lacy

The steady, rhythmic beating of drums fills the air around me and I concentrate on the flow of my beat. I allow myself to fall further into the base lines I provide and I consistently hit the skin of the drums accordingly. I let my eyes look up to the crowd in front of me. Even though my drums are placed towards the rear of the stage, the lighting hoisted above me, allow me to see each audience member with ease. The lights aren’t harsh however since a slight red tint provided all our eyes with a little more comfort than the original hospital white shade.

Occasional glances flick between the audience and my drums as I attempt to locate Alyia, she never promised me she would attend, I just hoped she had promised herself.

I can’t tell if I am stressed about being on stage for the first time in ages or what but my heart is racing more than my anxiety ever normally causes it to. My hands are slightly clammy but I blame that on how much I’m playing the drums and moving my body.

As my body forces me to look at the audience once more, heads turn to the back of the hall, now facing the right-hand side. I follow suit and glance over in that direction. The side entrance has gently been pushed open and someone has walked through. Their back is turned to me and I momentarily put my concentration back into the music and timings. Curiosity gets the better of me once again and I exhale deeply, slipping my tongue between my lips to wet them briefly and I fix on the door again as I attempt to make out who entered.

My eyes squint as I focus on the person for about ten seconds before I finally realize who it is.

Alyia.

She actually came? I didn’t think she was serious when she agreed to the one song. Granted she was a little late. Nothing I minded at the moment, however.

I see her quickly set eyes on the stage, examining it quickly. I watch her eyes as they fall to my drum kit, lingering on the school logo on the bass drum. She hesitates as her eyes met mine, her expression, inscrutable. I maintain eye contact before I break it to change the pattern of my beats. And by then her own focus changes too.

When I am finally able to take my eyes away from the drums, the song is over. Dan and Martha don’t stay on the stage long enough to even acknowledge the people they had just performed to and they simply wandered off stage. I remain sat down on my stool. I plant my feet flat on the ground and use force to swivel my position back and forth as I drink from a half empty water bottle. I flip the bottle between my hands before I replace it with the quieter options of my sticks which rhythmically spin amongst my first few fingers to the beat of the song in my head – the song I was playing next.

Ride – Twenty One Pilots

I then notice some movement out of the corner and I turn my neck to see a hand waving at me. A confused expression grows on my face as I narrow my eyes off stage. I notice Nate standing next to the singer of who I’m playing for next and a worried expression is visible on the both of them.

A sigh disperses into the air for what seems to be the millionth time tonight and I push myself off my seat, lightly hitting the side of the cymbal with my hip as I brush past.

“What’s going on?” I finally reach where they are and stand closest to Nate, crossing my arms across my chest.

“Jess’s guitar string just snapped.” An exasperated sigh leaves the singers lips as he hands me the broken string from his own palm.

“Shit, uhm...” I inspect the string and based on the thickness I immediately knew it was a D string. My hand lays flat, holding the string in front of me and I hand it back them.

“It’s just a D string, I have spares in my bag, Nate will show you where it is.” I face Nate then nudging his side.

“Uh yeah sure, we will be quick Matt, promise.”

I nod before walking back onto the stage, and back to my stool which now is cold due the lack of body heat. With my legs only being covered in some black, denim shorts it makes me jump back somewhat.

-

After five minutes of delay, the ‘host’ announces the singer and guitarist’s names to the audience. I sigh with relief as I pick back up my drumsticks and get into position.

It’s not long after that I confirm everyone’s set up and intro the next song, after the initial counts of 8 I provide, the guitarist and piano audio that Nate creates joins in with me.

This song starts much more smoothly than the first few songs I played and everyone’s skill set is higher and much more practiced too. My sections are more complex than the last song however, I enjoy the flow and atmosphere enough to ease that stress and relax me.

Halfway through the song, the chorus plays for the second time and my arms relax into the repeated pattern which allows me one more chance to look into the audience. The first people I notice are Nick and Chris. Nick has one of our cameras out, fortunately without the flash on as Chris goofs off next to him which results in Nick jolting his knee into Chris’s. I roll my eyes at them and the pace of the song slows down. The lights dim gradually as we approach the final seconds of the song. My muscles stop tensing since I can play softer and leisurely. A deep breath fills my lungs and glance up into the audience, I instantly meet Alyia’s eyes again and we both smile, mine definitely showing more than I mentally allowed myself to, but I stopped caring quickly when she broke eye contact with a roll of her eyes.

-

My drumsticks finally rest upon the floor tom drum and I’m now sat backstage closest to the audience whilst I pack up my things. I grimace when I feel resistance in my ears from the earbuds I put in 2 hours ago now.

Once everything is packed up, I can only wait until the next song is over until I can leave this heated environment. The only distractions from time that I had were quick exchanges with two people I previously performed with, my bottle clattering on the floor next to me and another mini staring contest with Alyia that I ended this time.

-

“Finally.” I mutter when the host begins their ending comments to the night, I hold my coat between my arm and ribs and swing my backpack onto my right arm, praying my bottle didn’t fall out again when I rushed down the side platform.

My eyes close themselves, only opening again when a tug on my shirt wakes me up. I stop walking and turn my head around with an initially confused expression.

“So, you invite me out here and you don’t even say hi, Matthew” The girl in front of me is finally in a clearer view with all the main lights turned on and a lack of distance between us. I study her outfit momentarily which consisted of low-rise navy jeans; a cropped purple star tee, barely covering her bra straps; a white overhanging beanie and a bunch of small accessories around her neck, wrist and fingers.

“Alyia... hey.” I snap out of my stare as I look down at my air forces which shuffle around on the floor.

“I gotta say, I’m happy you came”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

© ENDEREIES 2024

[imagines--galore]

“I’m not jealous! It’s just… you’re mine!” with peter parker, please? he's the one saying it! thank you in advance! 🫶🏻

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Use of a curse word but that's it. A/N: So.......since there was no specification to which version of Peter we're talking about, I thought this fit the MCU Peter Parker more, so I hope thats alright!

"Well! I'd say that was a successful block party!" You stated happily as you entered the apartment you shared with your boyfriend. "We also probably gave Mrs Harris a heart attack by flaunting our relationship so openly." You chuckled as you referred to a resident living in your building who didn't think it was proper for a young lady to be living with a man when they were not married.

Peter gave a small smile, moving to put some leftovers you had gotten from the block party onto the small dining table you shared. You pulled off your shoes and sighed as you sank into the couch, glad to be off your feet. "Everything went off without a hitch, and I'm so glad I signed up for being in charge of the activities for the kids. They were a blast."

As part of the block party, you had contributed by making different fun activities for the younger kids to do while their parents went off to take a little time to themselves and enjoy the party as well. All day long you had entertained kids ranging from the age of five till twelve. You had been yanked in a hundred different directions by them the entire day, yet you didn't mind it. Playing with kids always brought you joy.

"You know? I'm thinking of signing up as a volunteer at the kindergarten nearby, it was so fun being around kids." You mused as Peter came to sit beside you. Turning your gaze to your boyfriend you gave a grin. "What do you think?"

You waited eagerly for his reply.

"Sure, if thats what you want." He said flatly with a shrug of his shoulders.

You blinked.

That was certainly not the response you had been expecting.

"Is everything alright Peter?" You asked, shifting slightly so you were sitting next to him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Everything's fine." He replied before pursing his lips tightly, as if physically stopping himself from saying anything further.

You shook your head. "No. Something is wrong. You've been acting weird all day."

"Oh so now you notice?!" You were taken aback at the sharp retort. Deciding to take the more patient route, one that you had adopted for the entire day given how you had been dealing with children you spoke in a soft tone. "What do you mean?"

Peter looked like he wanted to keep quiet, but with a small nod you hoped to encourage him to go on.

"Today was the one day we were supposed to hang out. Do stuff together and just spend time. And I was really looking forward to it since we've both been so busy the past couple weeks. But you spent the entire day on duty, after you said it would only be half a day. You spent the entire day playing with the kids and we didn't get to spend any time together."

He was breathing deeply by the time he had finished ranting.

Your mouth parted, your mind feeling a little fuzzy as you tried your best to catch up with what he had just said. Finally it all clicked into place and a wide smile of disbelief pulled at your lips.

"Oh my god! Peter! Were you jealous?!" You exclaimed, already feeling a giggle bubble in your chest, but you quickly pushed it down, not wanting to embarrass him further.

His cheeks were already turning red and panic shone in his eyes as he turned away from you. "I wasn't jealous!" He denied, crossing his arms over his chest and.....pouting.

Oh good Lord, he was pouting!

He looked so adorable.

"So let me see if I have this right, you, Peter Parker, Spiderman, savior of New York, are jealous of a bunch of kids because I gave them my attention for a day?" You asked hoping you would clarify the situation further. And also because you wanted to tease him about it.

As you spoke he suddenly stood, walking a few paces away before turning around to glare at you. "I'm not jealous." He stated, though the lack of conviction in his tone wouldn't fool anybody. "Its just....." He trailed off and looked as if he were struggling to find the words to say what he felt.

"You're mine."

A beat of silence which was broken by a sound that was a cross between a squeal and a giggle as you practically threw yourself in your boyfriend's arms. It was a true testament to his strength that he was able to catch you. He hardly had any time to recover from your sudden leap when you began to shower his face with kisses.

"You are so fucking adorable!" You emphasized each word with a loud smooch. You pulled back, laughing at the absolute dumbstruck look on his face, and the impressions of your lips that you had left behind. You had been wearing a slightly darker lipstick that you had kept reapplying throughout the day. He gave you a drunken smile at your sudden display of affection.

"I'm sorry if you felt neglected today." You said, arms wrapped around him. "How about I promise that you have my undivided attention for the next-" You glanced at the nearby clock. "Forty eight hours? I mean we have the whole weekend in front of us."

Peter seemed to have recovered from your affectionate attack as he hummed in contemplation. "Only if I get to choose the activities we'll be doing. I'm sure you're done with planning after today." He offered, a playful gleam in his eyes.

You grinned. "Deal."

To seal the little pact, you tilted your head back and kissed his lips, smiling as you felt him lean your entire body against yours, making you stumble back into the couch. Your body hit the soft cushions with a thump, but you barely noticed as you pulled Peter down with you, eager to sink into his embrace.

"All mine?" He whispered against your lips, before moving to trail down hot quick kisses along the curve of your neck.

"All yours." You whispered in a breathy tone as you felt the first buttons of your blouse come undone.

It was going to be a long night, yet you wouldn't have it any other way.

[clarkes-and-god]

Cherish's Diary:

I don't know what to do. Tobias has been arrested for assaulting a public officer, and there's no way we can get him out. His bail is $5,000! He keeps phoning me about it, and I feel so bad but there's no way I can even pay the $500 to get a bond for him. I have some tips from work, but they make up barely half of that, and there's nothing in the bank account he's been managing. Only all the stupid stuff he buys, and I can't really give a bondsman video game skins and packs of cigarettes. I did ask Momma and Daddy if they could help pay it, and we'd pay them back soon, but Daddy reminded me that I'm grown and I should have managed the finances better and saved some money to prepare for this sort of stuff. That's what he always told me growing up, and I know he's right; but Tobias said he wanted to manage the money, and I can't argue with him, he's my husband! I could ask Esther, but I'd feel awful asking an elderly widow to pay for things that are my responsibility, and I don't think she has much to spare herself, with that boy who does the yard work for church looking after her.

I know Tobias is a good man really, he just gets a bit worked up sometimes, and that's what happened when that social worker came over. He just was upset that our kids might have been at risk! I mean, to me the social worker seemed nice, but men's brains work differently, so maybe he realised there was an issue and I didn't. I just hope whoever is in charge of sentencing him understands the situation and isn't harsh, seeing as it was just a mistake. We really need him at home, he's so sweet when he's happy, and I don't think we can do without the money he gives me from Christ Chicken. Luckily, I've told my manager that my schedule changed and she's given me some extra shifts. So we should be ok for now, but I do need to ask someone to watch Neveah and Travis.

The kids are all shook up from what happened! Poor Mandy is just in hysterics because she thinks it's all her fault -- she told her teacher what she was doing at the weekend and the teacher didn't seem happy according to her. Honestly, I wasn't too happy when she said that Tobias had left her all alone with the little ones -- she's still only 7 -- but I will have to tell her not to talk about things like that to people who won't understand. I'll leave it until she's a little less upset though, I don't think she'd cope with that sort of talk at the moment. For now, she's been praying for her Daddy, which is very sweet of her.

Tyson and Neveah haven't been any better. Tyson has got such an attitude, he won't listen to anything I say. He's been moping in his room and yelling at his siblings. And after school today, his teacher pulled me aside and said he had to be sent out for distracting the class! I know he's always been loud and energetic at school, he's a boy after all, but that's never happened before! The teacher did say he understood with the situation at home, but I can't believe it. He's always been such a sweet boy and now he's just being awful! I'm praying it resolves itself soon, and Mandy starts coping a little better, because it's honestly horrible to be in the house with the two of them. They're just setting each other off at the minute, and then that upsets Neveah and Travis. I think poor Neveah doesn't understand enough to know what's going on, but she knows something's changed and Daddy's not here anymore, and it's really upsetting her. She's normally such an independant little girl, but it's like she's gone back to being a baby. She won't let me leave her alone, and she's not sleeping through the night. She's slept through the night since she was about 8 months old! And if I do leave her alone, she's just breaking all the toys or trying to ruin the furniture. I feel like I need 3 extra pairs of hands to deal with them all at the minute. I know they must be missing their Daddy, but I am too, and they're not easy to parent just now. Lord, I am praying that everything will go smoothly for Tobias and we can all go back to normal soon, because I don't think I can manage all on my own for long. You designed man and wife to be joined together in marriage and not seperated, and I am really feeling why You designed it that way with these struggles at the moment. Please give me strength.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Was musing on the "Aware of Abuse" AU for the Sad Rich Kids Trio and ho it influences their behavior, or how their perspective has shifted, from least to most detailed:

Adrien: He is not overtly super different, in canon he was already expressing frustration with his father and ducking out from under his control to do what he wanted.

The main shift is rooted in his perspective. Namely that if his father does love him (Doubt) then his love is so toxic Adrien wants no part of it. He deems any concession Gabriel makes suspicious at best and deems any lingering affection on his own part as a childish thing he needs to outgrow.

Beyond that he's simply more blunt, he doesn't make excuses for his father and is a bit more aware of how the other kids parenting sucks. This ironically may actually make it harder for he & Marinette as she'd struggle to see what was wrong early on and presume him kind of a brat or rude for disrespecting his father so much.

Kagami: As one might expect given how heavily controlling and authoritive Tomoe is, Kagami has very little wiggle room to openly defy her or act differently without risking being trapped or extremely harsh punishment,

As a result the shift is more in subtle things and how she communicates and views the relationship. Namely, she does not love her mother and only pays lip service to respecting anything other than her material skills as a combatant. She also feels that given what her mother does to her is largely indistinguishable from hatred (The physical nature of sparring sessions & training are deeply unpleasant) that Tomoe's feelings don't matter.

Thus she's more overt around others in her disregard for her mother and already prone to trying to sneak off or undercut her. She has burner phones and secret social media accounts for example. In this regard she likely does not become Riposte.

Instead her emotions would be mostly fear of her mothers reaction & anger at the situation and what this costs her in general. Thus she likely turns into something intent on seeking her mother out and attacking her, or otherwise trying to force her mother into her shoes. I had a name for this I think, Aku-Gami? Anyway its basically a signal flare to Adrien & Chloe of "One of us! One of us! One of us!"

Chloe: Like with Adrien her shift would be fairly recent. Mostly in response to the clusterfuck handling of Adrien after Emilie's disappearance & her parents being their worst selves about it. She was on her last thread from keeping Adrien's head above water then being booted and so she explodes at her mother over the phone & rejects her father out of anything but necessity. After which she doubles down because she can't un-dig this hole but she can sure as fuck make it big enough to engulf them all.

Put simply, Chloe's ingrained "Fight" mentality has now been turned on her parents in full. She'd still struggle to articulate most of the things they did wrong, or why they were wrong. But she is angry, rebellious and good at lashing out so she does that and only concedes when she has no other choice or legitimately terrified.

Despite this her changes are less overt, her fight mentality is a survival mechanism like Adrien's people pleasing so she can't just turn it off. She's still been actively taught a lot of terrible things like its moral to cheat to win, & un-learning that is hard, especially if doing so makes you feel weak. & She's been mimicking Audrey since forever, that doesn't just go away over night.

At the same time though she has more freedom than the others & any overt issues she can identify she can try to address for good & ill. Her dad thinks she shouldn't hang around with people "beneath her station" Well screw that she's throwing a party in the ballroom for the class/school before the new school year starts & Adrien can come too.

This likely means she doesn't rip up Rose's letter cos that was like, peak Audrey. She might be tempted to do the social media thing with Kim cos that is something someone might do, but she'd also be more able to apologize for it. She may indeed still lock Juleka in the bathroom, unless they are like, actively friendly at this point.

A lot depends on how well her shifts in behavior are taken by the class as she's not gonna suddenly be super self aware or easy to get along with in many regards. Though given S1 still had Kim get a crush on her & Rose trust her with a letter, I tend to feel it makes more sense that not everyone had a bad impression of Chloe going into the year. So it'd vary.

Regardless, Chloe would be both the most extreme in shift, while keeping a lot of thorns. But she'd be more open to changing in general if able to contextualize a negative reaction as tied to something her parents would do, letting her aggressively reject it. If she feels 'she' was in the right though, she'd not shift her behavior at all but dig in deeper.

Fucking hell I do go on don't I?

Oh I love all of this though!!

[daydream-cement]

Hello! I just love your Larissa Weems fic and oneshots. Like I am obsessed. You’ve gifted us with mind blowing smut and I thank you for it. Is it okay to have a fluffy comfort oneshot where reader is a student and doesn’t really have great parents. Like their parents doesn’t support her or something and for some reason Larissa is like a mother figure of some sort. I’m imagining this happens when the parents visit school. But you can totally change that if you have something better hehe.

It Will All Be Okay

Larissa Weems x student!reader

Author Note: Be gentle with this one guys. I based a lot of this convo off of a real one I had with my own ‘school mom’.

You sat on the steps of the grand entryway crying. Parents Weekend had just ended and everything about it had completely sucked. Your mother had come to visit you alone when you father decided that a last-minute work ‘thing’ was more important. The only trouble with this is your father was the emotional buffer between you and your mother’s personalities. In fact, you were a lot like each other. That was the problem. 

You were so similar and stubborn that never in your life had she supported you different decisions. You had finally shared with your mother your dream job, yet it wasn’t good enough for her. She wanted you to go into the family business- swindling people of their blood at a fake blood bank. It almost felt offensive to you that this was the business of your vampire family. It felt so stereotypical.

So you successfully spent the whole weekend fighting and now that your mother was gone, you felt entirely brokenhearted. Why couldn’t she support you like you needed?

“Are you quite alright?” The voice of your principal rang out behind you. You felt so embarrassed. You shouldn’t have been crying out in the open in the first place. You kept your head low, wiping away your tears with the end of your sleeve.

Your lack of a response didn’t deter Principal Weems. You heard her heels click down the steps until she was seated a step down from you so she could see your face best, “Tell me what’s wrong, y/n.”

You sighed, but when you began your sentence you began crying again. This time to the point in which you couldn’t speak. You covered your face from her, not wanting to let Principal Weems see.

Larissa moved where she was seated once again, moving up to sit right next to you. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders and she pulled you into her. You accepted her hug readily, shifting yourself so you could put both your arms around her. The comforting hug caused a shakey sigh to release from your body, finally feeling a sense of safety. 

Weems heard your sigh and spoke once again, releasing you from the hug, “Doesn’t it feel good to cry a bit. Now tell me what’s wrong.” 

You explained it all. The dream job. The classes you have been taking to prepare you for it. Finally you told her about your mother’s less than desired reaction and her insistence on making you work for the family blood bank.

Larissa gave you a gentle smile, seeming like she completely understood what you were going through, “My parents wanted me to go into the family business too. ‘Shapeshifters work in law enforcement,’ she used to tell me. But I loved schools and teaching. Plus, it’s like being a police officer around here, you kids can be so crazy.”

You give a breathy snort as a way of laughing at her joke. Principal Weems seeming to understand the pain you were in. She continued on, “Regardless, parents sometimes place a burden on their children. Sometimes it’s because they didn’t accomplish something  or sometimes their scared of you doing something new.”

“But why should she be so scared of what I’m doing?” You retort, getting a tad angry thinking about the multiple discussions you have had with your mother over the past weekend.

“Probably because she loves you. Humans are weird.” Larissa tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and looked down at you intently. Both of her hands moved to your cheeks, her intensity made a couple more tears fall, “Everything is going to be okay.”

The way she said it made you believe it. With that, Principal Weems helped you to your feet, placing both hands on your shoulders when you were standing. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head when she enveloped you into a final hug. 

“Better?” She asked, pulling away from the hug.

You took a deep breath and released it slowly, nodding at Principal Weems, “Better.”

“Okay, now run along. I don’t want you missing dinner.” Her hand was on your shoulder as she gently pressed you to head towards the cafeteria.

You nod, hopping down the steps, now in a far better mood.

“Oh, and Mx. L/n, I know someone who works in that career field. Perhaps I can put you in touch?” Weems called after you.

You stopped and spun around, a large smile on your face, “That would be great! Thanks, mom- I mean, Principal Weems.”

“Anytime, dear.”

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 when someone hands them a baby

You're standing with your loved one, catching up with some friends who just had a baby. They excitedly introduce you to their new child, and then before you can blink, they're passing the little one to your partner. "Here, you hold them! Aren't they precious?"

Julian

Initially too stunned to speak, that is somebody's precious infant and now it's in his hands

Surprises you with how comfortable he is holding a baby

Right away he's trying to interact with them, letting them grab at his gloved fingers

Funny faces to try to get them to smile/laugh

Shoos Malak away, no germs near the baby

Includes the infant in the conversation from that point on

"See that MC? (Baby) started fussing as soon as you said that, you're clearly wrong."

Bro is a doctor, when the baby inevitably spits up/drools on him he is completely unfazed

Everyone else is low key impressed and he knows it

Asra

Handles it so smoothly

"Oh, they really are precious, don't you think MC?"

If you didn't know him so well you'd never notice the slight panic in his eyes

Don't get them wrong, they like kids, but this is way too much responsibility at once

Subtly trying to find someone to pass the baby on to

If he doesn't succeed he'll end up having a pretty good time once he adjusts

He's actually quite fond of the baby, he's just spooked with the way it became his business so suddenly

His body language is shifting so he's between it and any potential threat

Faust is being so careful, peeking over his shoulder to get a look at the tiny human

Nadia

So stiff, you're waiting for her to crack

She *was* the family baby, she's never held one before and is terrified of dropping it

Initially maintains her composure by not looking at it, maybe that'll make it go away faster

That is until said infant make some kind of sound and they make eye contact

Totally caught off guard by the realization that that is a very small and cute human being, in her arms, looking at her

She'll reach up oh so carefully to touch their nose

Once the baby grabs her finger she melts completely and there's no turning back

The entire city state of Vesuvia has just been unknowingly dedicated to this creature

Completely tuned out, laser focused on this tiny miracle

Secretly relieved when the parents take it back, that was beautiful but her arms are sore from how carefully she was holding it

Muriel

Cue the tiktok "oh no" sound

Terrified out of his mind that he's going to break it

This was too sudden

Baby is literally smaller than his two hands put together

Panik

He is going to, very slowly and very carefully, turn and hand it to you

Once it's in your arms he's fascinated

He loves baby animals, humans are a special type of animal he supposes, and this is a baby human, and it's adorable

It's so small, look at that little nose, look at those tiny fingers, ohhhh what a big yawn it makes, it must be so tired meeting these new people, yes it must

Two days later he'll randomly hand you a little carved animal to give to the baby next time you see it

Portia

She was hoping for the opportunity to hold that baby as soon as she saw it and here it is, she didn't even have to ask!

Similar to Julian in the way she starts engaging with it immediately, different because she's not talking to anybody else anymore

This infant has all of her attention

Has a clean handkerchief all ready in case the baby doesn't come with a bib attached

Swaying and bobbing

When they grab a loose strand of her hair to look at it better she's delighted

Playing peekaboo, making funny faces and sounds, anything to make the baby smile

She is beside herself when they finally giggle

Politely reluctant to give it back

Lets the parents know multiple times that she's so happy to babysit if they ever have need of it

Lucio

This was a terrible idea

He's holding it loosely with one arm and gesturing with the other, paying way too little attention to it

He doesn't dislike it as long as it doesn't mess up his clothes, but he can't see any reason to give it any special attention either

Baby will inevitably start to fuss, he's just so loud

If you or the parents haven't already stepped in to save the poor thing, the last straw will be when he bends over so Mercedes and Melchior can have a sniff

You would wonder why he thinks this kind of recklessness is acceptable with such an obviously fragile creature, but then you remember he had Morga for a mother and he chose being a mercenary as a starting profession

The only baby you're letting him hold again is his own

[lemmetreatya]

Reiner is the perfect parent for the terrible twos. He's already incredibly patient and he understands that your child is experiencing a lot of big mood shifts and frustration about not being able to fully convey their needs just yet. Plus Gabi was way worse at their age. If Rei can survive that, he can survive anything.

Papa Rei is such a beautiful concept although one thing I believe different here is that yes, he’d be the perfect parent to handle the lil ones but I believe that’d only be the case post-first child.

So yeah, the off times he looked after Gabi he was so good at keeping her entertained and not-aggy, but his the anxiety that came with having his own first Terrible Twos over whether he was doing it right was horrendous. Because it’s not like he could just awkwardly return the child if it started being too much for him to handle — this was his kid and his constant responsibility — especially if you were out for the day.

but I do think any Terrible Twos then after he’d be fine with because he’s learnt the skills. You’re right though!! Reiner being a naturally patient man who understands how the lesser guy feels would give him the upper hand in these scenarios. However, I do believe there’s some things with parenting you can only learn once you’ve experienced it the first time!

“Sit down, sweetheart.”

Reiner tried to keep his voice as light as usual. He knows once any hint of agitation shows through it’d be harder to control the answers he got from his two year old henceforward.

Banging a foot against her highchair with a tear stricken face, you and Reiner’s daughter bounced in her seat as she screamed up towards her father.

“I wan’ it! I wan’ it!”

“I hear you.” Reiner slides the used chopping board into the dishwasher. “But you already chose to eat your after-dinner snack at lunch time so there’s no more for the rest of the night.”

“But he!…” The young girl points towards her older brother, who by now, was used to the thunderous tantrums of his younger sister.

There wasn’t much context to her pointing but Reiner could figure out what she was trying to voice.

On the other side of the table, sat her elder brother who was quite engrossed in one of the superhero cartoon series he usually watched once he had completed his homework. What his sister seemed interested in however, was the pot of chocolate moose he was eating from.

“I wan’ it! He have…”

Reiner shook his head whilst making his way towards the cupboard to get out a few tupperware containers to pack a bit of today’s dinner for tomorrow’s lunch.

“You can’t have your brother’s dessert, sweetheart. That’s his.”

Reiner’s son, who was a good seven years older than his sister, shrugged at the mention of her being denied his treat. In spite of her, he took a large scoop of the moose and ate the dessert, an exaggerated large hum of delight leaving his lips.

His sister’s focused was turned to him.

“Maybe.” He said with a quipped tone, smacking his lips. “If you saved your dessert earlier and didn’t have two for lunch, you’d have some now.”

The younger girl was unable to understand the entire premise of what her brother was telling her but she knew she was being told something which opposed her having a third moose of the day.

There was a delay in her reaction, a moment of silence, as her eyes were wide, her breath was haggard from crying and her blocked nose forcing her to breath through her mouth.

But Reiner could tell when the words finally computed in her brain because she started screaming, and in turn, fisted several hits at her father who happened to be passing by at the time.

Immediately, the blonde placed the tupperware containers down and crouched to her eye level, his face serious as he took a hold of his daughter’s wrist mid throw.

“Hey! Hey! We don’t hit. Okay? We don’t hit anyone, even if we’re upset.”

Reiner’s words were stern but he had to season his words with salt because shouting at her wasn’t going to get anything through.

Even though her crying had momentarily resolved, he could tell she was still upset. Reiner realises that, yes, even though she ate her desserts in an untimely manner, it would still be harsh to deny her a sweeter after dinner snack and break her routine simply because of that.

In favour of practicing safer learning spaces, Reiner knows he was going to have to come up with a solution.

Reiner moved his hold from his daughter’s wrist to her hand instead. Rubbing his thumb over her the whole back of her palm, he gave a proposition.

“You can’t have anymore chocolate moose but what if daddy cut you up some cotton candy grapes instead?”

The girl’s eyes carried the calculation of her choices.

Her eyes flicked towards her brother’s dessert once again before casting them down towards the table. Placing her unoccupied thumb into her mouth, she sniffed before giving an answer.

“Coyon can… gapes.” She finally resolved.

A mental weight had lifted off of Reiner’s chest.

“You want some grapes? Yeah?” He reaffirmed.

His daughter nodded, her face however downcast and sullen as she wordlessly continued to suck on her thumb. She normally got like this after a tantrum — drained and somehow lethargic — so Reiner wasn’t concerned.

Although once Reiner had risen from the dining table to access the fridge, his son momentarily looked away from his tablet before pointing his spoon in his younger sister’s direction.

“Haha! You didn’t get any moose.” He sing-songed, his tone boyishly mocking.

His sister, half-awake, made a jeering noise in his direction but she didn’t have to defend herself again concerning Reiner stepped in.

“And you.”

At the sound and change of his father’s authoritative voice, Reiner’s son ceased all juvenile trickeries and looked towards his father with wide eyes. Reiner himself had his head poked out from the fridge door as he gave his son a stern stare.

“I’ve warned you about teasing your sister. You’re older and should know better.”

With a face of utter confusion, the boy quickly looked to his sides before skittishly pointing towards his sideways leaning younger sister.

“But it’s her fault sh—”

“This isn’t a discussion.” Reiner finalised.

The bite in the boy’s argument died at the back of his throat at Reiner’s words. His father wasn’t usually a demanding person so he knows in hearing that, he’d crossed the line.

Slumping in his chair and turning back towards his tablet, he mumbled.

“Yes, Dad.”

There was a mouldy silence in the air as Reiner started to cut the grapes. Seeing as his daughter had tired herself out and currently didn’t have anything in front of her to stimulate her mind, she started to doze off sideways at the table, almost leaning out of her chair.

Reiner’s son on the other hand had a sulky look on his face as he watched his cartoon.

He knows his father wasn’t angry at him (and still very much loved him) but he hated that he had to get told off.

It wasn’t his fault that his sister didn’t take heed of his oh so wise and oh so great advice at lunch. He’s been in that very position before so he knew that you should always save your dessert for after dinner, even if you wanted to eat it at lunch time.

Still, he was only reminding her of the consequences she made! It’s unfair that even though she had her two mooses, she still got to have cotton candy grapes.

But deep down, Reiner’s son knew that his father wouldn’t deny him the cotton candy grapes either.

He knew that his father was gracious, even if he did just tell him off.

“Dad?”

Reiner looked up at his son who meekly watched him place the small portion of cotton candy grapes in front of his sister.

“Yeah?” He replied.

The boy glanced towards his tablet before looking over at his father again, his voice small.

“Can I have some grapes too?”

There was a stutter in his movement, but once Reiner stood up, he gave the boy a warm smile. He nodded twice.

“Of course you can, buddy. Of course you can.”

[destiny-in-the-universe]

RC9GN Role Swap AU

This is a very standard age/role swap AU but uh, with a twist because I'm extra like that! So, for starters we do have Randy and the First Ninja switching roles right from the get-go (as that's kind of what this idea is meant to be about-)

Also fair warning, this is an extremely long post-

But okay, let's start with the obvious- the characters that get swapped are literally just Randy -> First Ninja and Howard -> Plop Plop/Hinata. As for the rest of the canons, like Norrisville High students- I don't think they're necessarily being swapped but they might just be from a different time period hahah. McFist, Viceroy, and the Sorcerer (alongside the Sorceress) are still the main antagonists and villains because there's no way I'm coming up with entirely new enemies right now-

Now, onto Finja because he is the title lead!

His entire family, and they are a big family, are immigrants from Japan. They moved to Norrisville after a promotion at one the jobs Finja's parents work at- which leads to the move and Finja is not exactly happy to be there because he thinks Norrisville is a Speck of Odd(TM)

The closest equivalent I could find to the rest of his family still being something similar to ninjas is by, well, having his parents run a dojo- it's honestly massive tradition for their kids (and they literally have nine of them) to train at the dojo. Finja is one of the youngest in his family, so he's about to start being a freshman at Norrisville High. The weird timeline has them moving in early/mid May and classes start around September

Finja's not vibing with anything in the town, so he's kind of not really made friends with anyone- except for a boy in his block named Hinata who just decided to speak to him one day and didn't leave. Within a month or two of him arriving, Finja receives the mask and the Nomicon- making him the Ninja of Norrisville. He's not fully happy with this, but since he was thrust into the role- and it's now his responsibility, he decides to accept. Thankfully, his parents having the dojo helps him adjust with being the Ninja

Now Finja has... the shortest level of patience one has ever seen- he's a fast learner, at least, and always makes sure to do what's right but he's very short-tempered. He's also known for his disregard of following certain rules, purely out of the intent to prove his own worth. Unlike OG Randy however, he understands the lessons a little faster but still struggles at times because he's... literally fourteen but moving on-

Much like canon, McFist and Viceroy make their debut appearance on the first day Finja attends Norrisville High- and Finja has less patience dealing with a whole rampaging robot than Randy does, and that's even with the fact Randy loved being the Ninja

Shenanigans continue taking place as you would expect from the show, but at some point- we have the shift from McFist and Viceroy to the Sorcerer taking center stage and Finja is probably about to go fucking feral. I want to say that there's a parallel episode to 13th Century Ninja in this role swap AU where Finja goes back and officially meets Randy- because if I can't have mentor-mentee with canon, I will have it here!

So, then we have Randy and Howard-

Things branch off after this where Randy is quite literally, an ageless being that currently resides in the Nomicon (not that Finja's aware of this until much later-), and Howard, uh- is more gray area and I don't want to reveal too much but let's just say that Howard is permanently linked to the tengu! You'll find out what tha means later, but neither Randy nor Howard are normal- if it isn't because of the fact they're literally immortal and connected to the Nomicon, it's also since they are the weirdest flavor of queer one has ever seen

Similar to OG Finja, Randy was part of this smaller clan that would protect various towns, villages, and areas from monsters and the Sorcerer, but of course- all of it ended in tragedy. Left the sole survivor, Randy sobered out after a while but still did his part until eventually something went a little south and he was soul-bound to the nomicon he made

Leaving the rest vague because I am mean and, well, it'll all be revealed later. (today's literally become of a question of how many more au's will i be making until i get sick and tired of making them- the answer is all of them /lh)

but okay, so- the Sorcerer is much more of a threat because I will be as self indulgent with this AU as I can, and i just want this to be slightly more serious! Also, there might be more 'seasons' depending on the direction I want to take with the verse!

Though to keep going-

This role swap isn't strictly an age/role-swap! What this literally means is I might genuinely be imploring my own lore when it comes to Finja's entire family- and the fact I have to make them actual characters for this, so

I am personally of the belief that the Norisu clan are tied to back to the origins of the Ninja- (and if this purely about referencing how I do believe Randy's a descendant somehow, I have no idea what you're talking about-) but also, I sort of?? wanted to make something with the rest of Finja's siblings though I'm not entirely sure what that's going to be yet since it may contradict canon (however this is an AU and I will write this how I want to hahah)

Anyway,

Some More Infodumping + Headcanons

Finja has literally no interest in the Sorceress but due to how Sorcerer in Love works- something will likely happen anyway. The First Ninja just feels ace-coded, so he's not crushing on her; however due to plot reasons, he's kind of going to go through it anyway

Despite Hinata being the parallel to Howard, they're obviously different character-wise. Hinata worries constantly over Finja but he also acknowledges there was a reason he got chosen and, well, I have plans

Is Hinata also going to be linked to the tengu? Maybe- despite Howard being perma-bound to the tengu, this doesn't mean others can't also be linked. There's... lore for this but I have to be careful with what I say for now

I think I might do a parallel episode to Nomirandy-

We'll see what more I can come up with later to be honest! I don't have much else right now, and the constant brainrot has me wanting to write another thing soon-

[kylejsugarman]

as a dedicated andrea crusader i must know, how does au^2 impact andrea and jesse's relationship? do baby and brock get along? i'm picturing it in my head and🥹🥹

ANDREA CRUSADERS UNITE, u are one of the ultimate andrea understanders 🥺 so their relationship is a little different in au squared!! around the time that jesse infiltrates the recovery group and actually meets andrea is the same time that demi moves back to abq and tracks him and baby down. he and demi have a weird, semi-formal relationship for a while before they start developing romantic feelings for one another and during that time, jesse dates andrea. any initial plans to just sell meth directly to her as a recovering addict and put together his own walter white-esque "fund" for his daughter instantly evaporate when he sees brock and realizes that andrea is also just a single parent trying to navigate addiction. they're so similar and jesse, having not encountered anyone in this specific situation yet, kind of desperately clasps onto her. he really likes her and she likes him, but a big part of it is truly just. jesse desperately wanting to be around someone who Understands. and andrea does understand!! she has support from her mom, but she had to figure out a lot of this child-rearing stuff by herself and sees a lot of her slightly younger self in jesse. the way he wants to provide the Best for his kid, but doesn't trust anyone else to give it to her. she feels the same way about brock a lot of the time, even though she knows now that its not necessarily them vs the world.

the thing about au squared andrea is that she realizes through observing jesse's behavior and his feelings about raising baby that he's a very sweet guy who is great to be around, but they are not on the same timeline and she doesnt really feel like "dating" is the right arrangement for them. andrea's not in a place yet where she wants to incorporate a romantic relationship into her life and jesse, god bless him, has an overeagerness to him that tells her that he's diving into this because he badly wants A Connection, which doesn't necessarily have to be romantic!! she talks to him about this and asks instead if they can just be friends, so that's what they become. andrea is his dear friend :') jesse still cares very deeply for her and brock and tries to spoil them both (if he's going to get baby a swagged out play mat, then its only fair that brock gets a sick new transformer toy and andrea gets memory foam slippers for after long shifts on her feet at work. u know. if he's already going to be out). brock adores him, but is initially less enthused about baby because well. she's a baby. she can't really talk coherently or play a significant role in his games and he can't use his toys with smaller, choking hazard parts around her, so he doesn't really know what his mom expects him to do with baby while she and jesse are talking. but he realizes that it's actually kind of fun to assume a "big brother" role (brock's a sweet kid :') he likes to be helpful) and teach baby things; she basically copies whatever he does after a certain point, which is extremely validating to him. plus, she's a pretty patient, docile little playmate, so she can play the role of "building that is on fire that the brave firetruck must extinguish" with tremendous skill. the highlight of his month is when they all go to the zoo together and brock gets to feed a handful of feed to one of the giraffes while baby looks at him just shocked and awed like :O

andrea remains a source of support and eventually befriends demi too, but as things get darker towards the end of the show (post-drew shooting), jesse withdraws a little from her to try to protect her. he already feels responsible for tomas being murdered and drew's killing just reminds him of how nobody, no matter how innocent, is safe from this shit. andrea and brock are too important to him to endanger, even if it means cutting himself off from a good friend. demi visits them a few times while jesse is in captivity just to be around Someone and so baby can play with brock, but it's weirdly uncomfortable and baby isn't acting the same without jesse there and demi soon worries too that the cantillos might become endangered through association with them, so she reluctantly withdraws. once jesse escapes and he and demi and baby make the trip to alaska, he still writes a letter for brock that he gives to ed, but he also writes one for andrea. he wants to thank her for the support she gave him, for guiding him and baby through so much uncertainty, for being such a wonderful woman and friend. "i hope baby grows up to be like u. i want to make sure she grows up to be like u." andrea never learns what became of jesse and baby and demi after the news breaks, but she keeps that letter in her nightstand drawer along with a messy scribble drawing that baby made for her and the ticket stubs from that zoo trip. she doesnt care what the news says. she doesnt care what the dea agents who come to question her think of jesse or their friendship. she knew him, the real him, and she will always love him.

[goodluckclove]

FINAL BLIND TRUST SNEEK PEEK

The results were close enough that I decided to post something that I think is happy and sad. I also don't think I've posted anything directly about Regina Mustard Kaufner, matriarch of the Kaufner family. This feels like spoilers and kind of is but kind of isn't because even in context it leaves you with more questions than answers.

Enjoy reading the start of the mom I really wish I had. I like her a lot.

Seriously guys I need to stop revealing more of this novel before it comes out. I'm just so fucking excited aaaaaa

“I’m going to take them.”

“What?” Enoch said from the other end of the phone. “Mustard, no. That’s kidnapping.”

Regina leaned back in the car seat and kept her eyes on the doors to the University. “Yes,” she confirmed. “I’m going to kidnap them.”

“Fucking hell – that’s…” Enoch trailed off, and when she spoke again she was much calmer. “We’ll call the police. If we have proof of abuse we can call the police.”

But we don’t have proof, Regina wanted to point out. All we have are the visions of my son and some bruises that’ll be covered up by an organization with authority near to that of the Catholic church.

Enoch clicked her tongue anxiously, as if she were right beside her waiting for class to get out. “I don’t like this,” she said. “You said the parents refused to meet with you. What if they’ve tracked your license plate?”

“I’m being very discreet,” Regina tried to assure her.

“Well if you’re still in the Doctor’s car then no, you aren’t. Regina, you can’t keep taking these kinds of risks. You have children to think about.”

The doors pushed open and released a sea of purple-suited children all around Scott and Tenzin’s age. Regina immediately stopped paying attention to what her love was saying. She shifted the phone into her opposite hand and got out of the car, standing to peer through all the faces and dissect the crowd into parts. Looking for the smaller body. The larger set of eyes.

Because yes, Regina did have children. And right now, one of them needed her help.

Once the crowd started to thin Regina began to worry. Did she miss her chance? She was starting to consider pulling off and circling the surrounding city blocks, but before she went any farther with that line of thought she caught sight of a familiar face she was seeing for the very first time.

They were smaller than the other kids and walked a little slower – not from noticeable depression, just deep in thought. They had a young face that was still slightly older than what made sense for their age, with large, deep-set eyes hued a warm shade of brown.

This child matched Scott’s description of Eddie. What identified them for certain, however, was the feeling that flooded Regina’s system as soon as she caught site of them. Her love for those around her came in varying colors. For Enoch it was a bright emerald green, while Tenzin was more of a comforting blue-gray. It was always different for everyone – always – and yet when she looked at the child absently making his way down the stairs she felt the exact color of love she felt whenever she looked at Scott.

Sunflower yellow. Every single time.

It had to be them. Eddie.

Enoch was in the middle of explaining some kind of Louisiana legality when Regina hung up on her without a word. She got out of the car and fidgeted, unsure how to do this. She had no intention of stealing them if they didn’t want to go with her. It would help to find a way to explain who she was in a way that would make sense to the child – but in a way that didn’t encourage them to strike up conversations with frantic strangers in the future. Everything that made sense before Eddie walked outside now felt just as wrong as everyone had been trying to tell her.

This wasn’t Scott. Regina had to remind herself that. This was the other fragment of the being that ended up developing into her son. Was she truly as responsible for this half of his spirit as she was for him?

Not seeing a gap in the sidewalk, Eddie stumbled and scraped his knee against the concrete. From across the street Regina could see the wound, a grating of skin just deep enough to swell blood. It was the type of thing Scott would proudly show off before washing clean with a hose and bounding back off with his day. Eddie, however, stayed still. They did not move. Staring down at the blood, they broke down immediately in quiet tears.

No one was helping them. A few purple-suited adults looked at them as they passed, but did nothing. Regina bore this sight for maybe ten seconds before she grunted in annoyance and ran over to their aid.

“Oh wow!” She exclaimed. “You really tumbled, didn’t you?”

Eddie shrank even smaller on the ground and turned his face away from her. Horror weighed her heavy in place, and Regina knelt down and adjusted her attitude.

She started by speaking much softer. “Does it hurt?” She asked.

“It – It’s scary.”

“The blood?” Regina glanced down at the trickle of red running down just below the hem of his shorts. “Yes. You don’t like blood,” she smiled vaguely. “It’s kind of spooky isn’t it? Do you think it means that something bad happened?”

The child nodded. They lowered their arm away from their face, though still kept their eyes focused down from Regina’s direct line of sight. A sign of respect from Academy children, she learned some time ago. It disgusted her to think about.

She rifled through her bag and pulled out a few paper packets. “I keep sanitary wipes on me,” she said, tearing the top off of one. “They’re for my son. I don’t think he would mind if I used a few to help clean you up, though. Would that be all right with you?”

At first Eddie didn’t respond. He wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he nodded.

“The thing about scrapes like this,” Regina told them as she gently wiped away the blood up his leg, “is that they feel a lot worse than they actually are. You’ve really only hurt a few layers of skin – and you have many layers of skin, Eddie – so you haven’t gone deep enough to cause any permanent damage on it’s own. This might sting a little bit, buddy.”

Regina pressed a fresh sanitary wipe over the wound. Eddie’s face scrunched up without making much of a sound, and once again she felt the sunflower yellow of adoration for her child.

“You’re being very brave,” she murmured. “Anyhow, it hurts because under your skin has things called nerves. And that’s how you feel things – most things, at least,” Regina was quickly reaching the borders of her medical knowledge. “You didn’t hurt your body. It’s more like you triggered the alarm system that lets you know that something bad could’ve happened. Does that make sense?”

Somewhere in that explanation Eddie gathered the nerve to look at her. They seemed uncertain, and yet more than a little curious. She got a better look at his eyes, and at the iris coloboma that gave them the quality of something antique and wise.

She supposed that meant they could see hers as well. She wondered if Eddie would ask about them.

“How do you know my name?” They quietly questioned her.

Regina’s eyes widened slightly. Did she call them Eddie? Was she so preoccupied with comforting them that she forgot to make any effort to do things subtly?

She thought about Enoch. She should’ve let Enoch come with her.

“My name is Regina,” she said. “But you can call me Mustard if you’d like. Wouldn’t that be funny? It’s like the flower, but it’s also a sauce.”

Regina stood up and pulled her wallet out of her purse. Eddie followed her lead and got up on their own accord. Still, they didn’t drop the issue. “Do you know my mother?” They asked.

She thought about the cold voice that spoke to her on the phone and shivered. “No,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’m actually...I’m Scott’s mom.”

“...Scott?”

There was a photo in the inner fold of her wallet. It was new, printed by Enoch only a week before Regina drove off on this terrible road trip, but already the creases were well-defined from folding and unfolding. It was of Scott and Tenzin, each only half-visible and under a pillow fort that collapsed over them mid-nap. Regina smiled at the image, then turned it to Edgar and pointed at Scott’s laughing face.

The recognition was stark. For a moment it was frightened. Then that broke away, and Eddie’s brown eyes once again welled with tears.

“He’s real?” They managed weakly.

-

in short, regina's entire perspective towards edgar could be summarized by this old nedroid comic:

if you have shit parents she probably would do the same for you.