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tf-lover · 1 month

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Masquerade Madness

A little fun organised by @bodyswapmischief, and one of the only celebrity tf's I'll probably ever write! Enjoy the masquerade!

~~~

The idea of a masked ball was, at least in theory, the type of event Henry should enjoy. He was a famous actor, used to being in the public eye and in front of a camera. Only, he was dreading it. His agent had signed him up to attend, and as much as he could put on the charismatic face for the press, half the time he would rather be at home than at another event. Reading, video games and even stuff like Warhammer, the star had always been a not so secret nerd. He always had eyes on him though no matter where he was or who he was with. As much as he loved his craft, it was times like this he felt like a break for a night.

That's where Kade came in. He often acted as security for Henry, so they knew each other well. For the last several years at various events and on the occasional filming set he'd been Henry's personal bodyguard; the two had become fast friends. Kade was the stereotype of the rough bodyguard too; bearded and tattooed with closely shaved hair, one look told you almost everything you needed to know.

“What I wouldn't do for a night off you know?” Henry said once he emerged from the bathroom after a shower. “Feels like I never get any time to myself anymore.”

Kade, who would be driving Henry to the event and accompanying him inside, nodded in agreement. “I know man, I get you. It's a hard job being loved and thirsted over by so many people.” There was a hint of teasing in Kade’s tone, one only he could get away with.

Henry rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the slight smirk on his lips. “Yeah yeah, I know. I'm thankful for everything I have, don't get me wrong. I just… I don't know.”

“Well, what if I said Henry Cavill can still show up at this event and you can take a bit of a break for the night?” Kade had a hint of mischief in his eyes when Henry turned to face him. “You don't get it, I know dude. New tech in the industry.”

“Out with it Kade, what on earth are you going on about?” Henry folded his arms and frowned, more confused than anything else.

Kade pulled a small circular device out of one of his pockets and held it up. It was no bigger than his palm and had what looked like a scanner of some sort on either side. Other than that though it was sleek high-tech, giving away no extra information on what its purpose was.

“Military tech they ended up not using and selling off. Was meant for covert undercover operations so I'm told. The two of us use this to switch bodies, then I go to the party as you and you can just chill at my side. How's that sound?”

Henry… didn't know what to make of that. It was absurd, it had to be. It was like the plot of one of the movies he'd find himself in, not real life. Yet, there was something in Kade’s eyes that said he wasn’t bullshitting. Henry knew Kade well enough to know when he was joking around, and this wasn’t even close to one of those times.

“I know it’s a lot to take in man, but think about it.” Kade said as the other man spent a moment processing the information. “You don't have to ‘turn on’ that public persona people expect and can just vibe as me. You know security at these things is airtight even without some of the personal guards like me there, you'll have it easy.”

Henry was silent another moment before responding. “You know what? Alright, let's try it.” He gave Kade a small smile before holding a hand out. “How does this work then? Do we just-”

Kade stepped closer and smacked the device he was holding down into Henry's outstretched palm before the celebrity could finish his sentence. A jolt passed through both as their hands came into contact with the plastic surface, now fully activated with two participants. In less time than it took either to blink, Henry and Kade found the world around them suddenly shifted. Where Henry had been standing in a bathrobe and mentally preparing himself for another evening at another public event, now he found himself looking back at that very same face. The one he was used to seeing in the mirror now stood opposite him with an uncharacteristic smirk.

“Having fun there Kade?” Henry said when he saw his own smirking face. The voice that came from his mouth being a different one was definitely odd, but seeing himself was moreso.

Kade in Henry’s body laughed. “I was going to say the same to you Kade, since I’m fairly sure I’m the world famous Mr Henry Cavill right now.” Kade turned back to the bathroom and went to the mirror, running his hands over his new face. He knew this one well of course from films and working with Henry, but he never believed he’d actually get a chance to see it looking back at him. “Man, every time I’ve done this and it’s still fucking wild.” He said to himself.

Henry had followed his own body to the bathroom and watched as his bodyguard inspected Henry’s own handsome features. The strong, stubbled jaw, piercing eyes and just the faintest hint of chest hair that poked out of the robe he’d been wearing after the shower. Like anyone, Henry could really understand why Kade was so fascinated with being one of the hottest actors on the planet.

“Oh, you probably haven’t noticed yet dude, have you?” Kade stepped back from the mirror and turned to face himself. “Something different you haven’t spotted, should have mentioned it before really but I didn’t want you to freak out about it.”

Henry frowned. He didn’t know what Kade was going on about, and he was on the verge of saying as much when Kade did something he didn’t expect. He pulled off the bathrobe and dropped it to the floor, letting Henry get a good look at his ripped, naked body in all its glory. His mouth went dry. Objectively he knew he was attractive, he always had since being in such a public position, but now he could really feel it. Kade’s familiar smirk was plastered now over Henry’s features as the man flexed and gave his chest a squeeze, all with a look in his eyes that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

“See, one thing they discovered is sexuality and attraction is mostly tied to your body.” Kade started to explain as he kept teasing and running his hands down over Henry’s hairy chest and stomach. “So right now you’re as gay as I usually am. Once you’ve been doing this long enough you learn to be able to ignore the physical sexuality, but for a newbie like you…” Kade’s eyes flicked down to the obviously hard bulge between Henry’s legs. “Sorry to say you’ll have to be alright relaxing as a gay dude today.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine…” Henry mumbled whilst he couldn’t take his eyes off himself. “Guess I can see what everyone means for myself now. Are you always this attracted to me?”

Kade nodded. “Yeah, I mean who isn’t? But just like you don’t go getting hard over every attractive girl you see, it’s just the same.” He shrugged. “You learn to control yourself. Working with you is just business, not like I’m going to go over any boundaries that would be inappropriate.”

The mention of inappropriate boundaries sent other thoughts running through Henry’s mind. Thoughts of things he could do with men he’d never been interested in before, thoughts of things he could do with his own body. His cheeks flushed a brilliant pink for a moment before he shook his head; he had to get himself back under control. He was usually calm and collected, even if he was in Kade’s body and gay that didn’t give him an excuse to be ogling another man. Even if was technically his body he was getting an eyeful off and Kade was freely showing it off, it still didn’t feel appropriate.

“You should umm, get dressed Henry. You’ve got a party to get to, right?” Henry said in an attempt to deflect from the new stuff he was feeling. They’d made this swap for a reason, so he could have a night off and still make an appearance, so the sooner they got on with that the better. “Suit is in the bedroom.”

Kade let out a short laugh and a nod. “You’re right of course Kade. I’ll get myself dressed and ready to go, then you can drive me to the event okay?” Kade in Henry’s body turned and walked off in the direction he knew the actor’s bedroom was, all the while giving Henry a good long look at his muscular ass cheeks and how they flexed as he moved away.

~~~

It wasn’t long until the pair were ready and on their way to the party.

Kade had got all dressed up in Henry’s suit for the evening, including a custom made black mask by some designer he couldn’t remember the name of. He pulled the whole thing off well. Henry knew he would, after all he’d tried the whole outfit on days ago to make sure it all fit properly, but he hadn’t expected to be the one on this side of things. To be the one sat in the driver's seat of the car when he’d taken them both to the event.

Or to be the one trying not to look at how fucking hot hs own body looked in the suit his agent had picked out with the designers. Being gay because of the swap left him feeling all sorts of things, but chief among them was an undeniable attraction to himself. It was fucked up he knew that, but the drive over followed by silently following behind up the red carpet only hammered that nail down into the metaphorical coffin. Henry thought he was hot as fuck, just like many other gay fans had made clear, now he was almost one of them.

Kade didn’t make it any easier either. He showed just how good at his job he was as he smiled to the cameras, spoke to the occasional reporter and all round pulled off an incredibly convincing Henry Cavill. There were small things that only Henry could notice being off, but to anyone else they’d have no reason to believe he wasn’t himself as the pair made their way inside. And Henry really was getting a taste of the flip side of all this; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked down a red carpet and been as completely and utterly ignored as he was in Kade’s body. It was like he wasn’t even there. People moved around him like nothing, cameras flashed over his shoulders to capture anyone and everyone that wasn’t him; he was invisible.

The whole evening was more of the same for Henry. Or, for Kade as he made sure to introduce himself to a handful of the other security guards dotted around for other celebrities. It was strange at first, but the more he stood around chatting the more he felt like it was refreshing not to be recognised or idolised. He didn't have to “switch on” into his public facing actor mode like he'd been talking to Kade about earlier in the day, he could be his comfortable, relaxed self. All the while he watched from a distance as the real Kade in Henry's body danced and chatted and ate. All the things he should be doing but often found to be the exhausting part of being an actor.

“So, how are you finding things Kade? No issues with security?” The real Kade said later on in the evening when they got a spare moment together. Just a high profile celeb checking in with his security, that was all it looked like.

Henry nodded. “Yes Mr Cavill, all good on my end. I hope you’re having a pleasant evening?” It wasn’t hard to play the role of security guard for Henry, he was an actor after all.

“Yes yes, of course. All good fun events like these are, as you well know. And this suit is nice, makes me look good doesn’t it?” Something about the way Kade spoke with Henry’s voice was different to before. Lower, more heated. Maybe it was just to be heard over the crowd of people, but it didn’t feel like that quite. It felt like… more. “I’ve seen your eyes on me this evening Kade, and I want you to know I understand. Being so close can’t be easy on a night like tonight for you, if you catch my drift. One night, get it out of your system, if you think that would help?”

Henry couldn’t believe his ears. Kade, his long-term, always professional bodyguard, was suggesting something so… so sordid. This was a side of Kade he didn’t show for the sake of keeping to the job, but now something was crackling between them. Henry could feel it, a palpable tension in the air that he realised had probably been there since they first swapped earlier.

“You, You’re still gay, aren’t you.” Henry stated, since he already knew the answer. “You’ve done this enough that even in my body you’re still attracted to men… like I am right now as you.”

“That’s right Kade. As of this moment Henry Cavill is currently as gay as it gets, whether we’re talking about his body or his mind.” Kade said in that same low voice that Henry could now hear was dripping with arousal. Not one he ever imagined he’d be on this side of, or getting this turned on by either. “I get this is crossing a boundary between us, but I also get the sense that’s a boundary you’d rather like to cross right now, isn’t it?”

All Henry could do was silently nod his agreement. Since the swap earlier that evening he hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. If he was a stronger person maybe he could have held back and kept things professional, but then wasn’t the whole reason he had agreed to this swap in the first place because he was tired of always having to put on the professional face? Always serving the public and never himself; maybe it was time that changed.

“Let’s get out of here Henry, I think for your safety you should let me take you home, there’s been a few suspicious characters at this party looking at you a little too closely for my liking.” Henry slipped himself back into the bodyguard role and smirked at Kade as he spoke; if this was his once chance to really experience this before it was over he wasn’t going to waste it.

~~~

An hour later, Henry was on his back getting his ass absolutely destroyed by his own cock.

“Yes, fuck me Henry!! Nnnghhh… oh fucking hell bro I never thought a celebrity could fuck so good!” Henry held onto Kade’s shoulders and let his moans freely fill the room, though right now it was hotter to imagine himself as Kade. To imagine for a moment that he wasn’t Henry Cavill having swapped bodies, he was this bodyguard finally getting fucked by the star he’d been protecting.

Kade, or Henry as he too found it hot to think of himself as, was much in the same boat. “Yeah Kade? Can’t believe I haven’t been fucking men until now, I’ve been missing out!” The current Henry shouted as he fucked down into the hole around his cock. He’d swapped with many celebrities in the past, but never had it landed him in an outcome as hot as this one. He was Henry fucking Cavill! The one and only, and with the former Henry getting so into addressing Kade by the name that matched his body it was easy to get lost in that fantasy.

The two kept going in that same rhythm long into the evening. Henry had fully embraced being Kade the bad boy bodyguard, so much so that when the former Kade above him moaned that name in his ear it didn’t feel at all wrong. It felt right. Liberating even. He wasn’t anyone in the public eye, he was someone completely invisible to them. And had one of the hottest celebrities on the planet cumming in his ass all night like an absolute beast. The new Henry had skills he never thought possible, the new Henry above him could do all the public stuff and fuck like the king Hollywood saw him as. It was giving him ideas already for their future…

~~~

2 years later…

Henry and Kade hadn’t looked back since that first swap.

The evening they spent together riding and sucking and fucking was one of the hottest either man had experienced. Enough so that the real Henry asked if Kade could make his body gay when they swapped back. He could, it turned out, leave his lingering sexuality in Henry’s body and corrupt it to be gay instead of straight.

Not that Henry spent a whole lot of time in his own body as it was anymore.

For filming and such he still stayed as himself, but that was about it. He still loved to act more than anything and didn’t want to give that up. But besides when he was on a job, Henry spent all his time as Kade instead. The name Henry had even started to feel slightly odd to him now he spent almost all his time as Kade the tattooed stud. It was far more relaxing than being his old self, and the pair made enough money to support them both just using Henry. The old Henry would do the acting, then the new permanent Henry would take over and spend the rest of the time doing all the publicity and stuff. Kade, as the former star now thought of himself, was more than happy to let his boyfriend take the spotlight when he was overall better at it than Kade had ever been.

The new and improved Henry had even gone to the lengths of coming out of the closet and introducing the world to his boyfriend Kade. If only they all knew the reality of the situation, but that was only for them. Henry Cavill, lost lusted after by gay men the world over, was now officially part of the gay community too, and it had sent fans into a frenzy.

Kade had got used to thinking of himself as a gay man now though. It was why he’d asked his boyfriend to make sure his old body was still gay when he used it for filming. Going back to being his old straight Henry Cavill self when he was filming had weirded him out for all of 48 hours before letting it get fixed up so he was gay regardless of which body he was in.

He loved his new easier life away from all the rapid publicity, and loved his soon to be husband even more for giving him this life accidentally. One last public affair to give the new Henry Cavill the proposal he deserved, then he would really be done with the exhausting side of his old life.

#MarchMasquerade #male transformation #body swap #my writing #straight to gay

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luveline · 11 months

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if you’re ever in the mood to write for kbd again i’d love to ask for an argument fic! i’m a huge hurt/comfort fan and i feel like the arguments you write always feel so realistic and healthy(?) in a way? ily

thank you for your request! im glad u like how i write arguments bcos i find it so difficult, I hope this fills your hurt/comfort needs! kbd | dad!steve x mom!reader

You're tapping your foot on the kitchen floor, annoyed and upset and not sure if you should say anything about it.

Dove said her first words today. And you found out through Avery, who sits on the kitchen table in front of you with her legs dancing over the edge, clearly unhappy that you're unhappy, her hands stroking your cheeks affectionately. She's only six. You feel terrible that she can tell you're upset.

"Mom, how can I make you happy?" she asks.

It's something you've said to her a thousand times. She cries, and she's finally at the age where you can ask her what solution she needs.

You love her, but your patience isn't very strong today. You remove her hands from your face gently and give her a weak smile.

"I just need to talk to daddy, that's all."

"I'll go get him!" she says, clambering onto your legs and down onto the ground.

You don't really like the idea of summoning him for a scolding, and you've been with him long enough to know how to navigate a disagreement without a fuss. But you aren't perfect, and neither is he. When he arrives in the kitchen with a broken baby doll in his hands, he looks so comely, so homespun, and you're still mad.

"Why didn't you tell me Dove said her first words?"

His eyes light up, but he swiftly fixes his expression into a more neutral one. "I– sorry, yeah, she said daddy." He grins like he can't help it. He probably can't. "Oh, you should've heard it, she couldn't have sounded less excited to say it, what a doll."

"But why didn't you tell me?"

Steve seems to clock where this is heading, then, and puts the doll down on the kitchen counter. "It slipped my mind."

"Really? Her very first words slipped your mind? Like, that's not extremely important to you?"

"Of course it's important to me." Steve's eyes narrow, and his eyebrows start to rise. It's not an angry look nor is it cruel, but it rubs you the wrong way. It's sceptical. "But I'm busy all of the time. Which you know."

You're getting more and more irate. It's not his fault, but it feels like his fault in the moment, and you don't like how he's talking to you, and your head hurts.

"I didn't say you're not busy, but I still think you should've told me when I came in."

"I just– I don't know, I had to give Bethie a bath, and then Dove was fussing. And now her doll's broken. I was busy."

You sigh. "Sometimes," you say, more depressed than mad, "you act like they're not even mine. You act like they're just your girls. I'm their mom."

"Do I do that?" he asks, incredulity leaching into his words.

"Steve, you should've told me straight away. She's my baby, I should've found out from you, and not Avery, like an afterthought."

"I told you, I forgot."

"I don't care if you forgot– actually, I do, because that's the problem. You shouldn't forget to tell me when my own daughter starts talking–"

"You're acting like I chose not to tell you. I wasn't not going to tell you, but I have other things on mind! I have a lot to do, in case you forgot!"

"Like I'm not busy too?" you ask. "Like I don't work all day every day to come home to you. To make sure there's a home to come home to."

"You're throwing that in my face?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No! No, I'm just saying that I'm busy too, you're not the only one who has to do things, Steve, but the difference is that I would never forget to tell you something like that!"

"Maybe if you were home, you wouldn't need to shout at me about it. You feel guilty and you're taking it out on me."

You don't see red or anything so aggressive —no. You just feel like he's slapped you, like he's reached right into the centre of your chest and said the thing that's going to hurt you the most.

You don't want to cry. You know how it looks, like you're losing, so you're crying, so he'll feel sorry and make you feel better. Steve has known you and loved you for years and he knows the look on your face before tears have even welled up. You twist away from him and cover your face with your hands, your skin hot as a burning hearth.

And the tears are pathetic. Sniffling, quiet, high-pitched in the back of your throat. It's not fair. It's not fair, you want to stay home too, you want to see their first moments, and you don't get to do it and he's shouting at you and you just want to shrink into nothing right then and there. You're tired, and you're embarrassed at yourself for speaking to him like that. He doesn't deserve it.

"Honey," Steve says, all malice gone. "Honey, don't. It's okay."

"I'm fine."

"No, it's okay," he says, putting his hand on your shoulder.

"Ignore me," you say, "I'm not crying to– I'm just mad."

"Don't cry," he murmurs, pressing his lips to your crown. "Don't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."

Love is so unfortunate, sometimes. He's the only one who you want comfort from, but you're so mad at him. Even if he's right. The anger is as illogical as the love; you want him to go away and you need him to rub your back as you snuffle.

"It's not fair, Steve. You can't just say that."

"I know. I'm sorry. I know you can't be home. I know I'm the lucky one. I know how much you've given away to let me have what I want," he says, moving so he's face to face with you.

"Now you'll think I'm crying just to be the one upset," you say with a sob.

"Only a little bit." He laughs fondly at your frown. "I'm kidding!"

You cry so much he has to wrap his arms around you to keep you together. It's not his fault, but suddenly everything breaks the surface, how guilty you feel for missing out, how annoyed you are at him for knowing that and still giving you a hard time, how annoyed you are at yourself for shouting at him over something he can't control. You cry because you miss the girls, you miss him, and you're tired. There's hundreds of tiny reasons.

Steve sounds a little emotional himself when he says, "God, I'm sorry." His cheek pressed hard to your ear, his hug tightening. "I'm a dick, making you cry."

"I'm a dick. I'm sorry," you say, head heavy, tears slowed.

"It's okay. I know why you're upset. I promise I know. I shouldn't have got so defensive… but I really did forget, honey. I'm sorry, but I did."

"I know. I'm sorry for being a bitch about it."

He laughs and pulls back to cup your cheek. "You are not a bitch. You got upset, you're not the antichrist."

You sniff. Steve pulls the corner of your mouth into an uneven smile and then, slowly, leans in to dot a kiss there. When he moves back, his face is slack. An unhappiness lingers in his lips and his eyes where they're trained on your tacky cheek.

He moves in for a second kiss. This one is firmer, longer, and you reciprocate with relief.

"Do you really think that? That I act like they're just my girls?" he asks when he pulls away.

You duck your head so you don't have to look at him, or face the mean things you'd said. Not just mean, either, but the things you're embarrassed to have thought.

"Not really. Sometimes I feel like…" You don't want to say it aloud. You rub the skin of his wrist in a fidget.

"Go on," he says.

"I worry I'm not choosing the right thing. I would never ask you to give this up… I really wouldn't. But I worry I'll regret not being here."

Steve wraps his hands in your t-shirt and pulls it toward him. You're becoming more and more intertwined as the conversation progresses, your faces much too close.

"We've always said," he says slowly, "that you could change your mind. That you could come home, and that I would work. We've always said that. You don't have to be afraid to tell me you've been thinking about it."

"I haven't." You sniff. "I don't even think I could do it."

"Are you kidding?" Steve asks.

A rogue tear races down your cheek. If you speak, you'll sob, so you shake your head and hold onto his wrist for dear life.

"You're the best mom they ever made," he says, easing closer still, his face imploring, pleading with you, "why would you ever think you can't do it? It’s different to when you’re home, being alone with them, it's fucking hard, and I think you'd struggle to get used to it at first because I still struggle now, but you could do it. I know you could. You could stay at home and look after them if you want to, I want you to do that if it's what you need."

"This is silly," you say.

"It's not silly."

"I've made this all about me. I was angry at you and now you're comforting me." You stroke his cheek with your knuckle. "I'm the one who should be comforting you. You race after the kids all day and then the wife comes home and grabs you by the ear."

"I think I'd kinda like it if you did," he says.

You both laugh.

"I'm sorry," you say.

Steve nods. "Yeah, me too."

You bite back everything that's hurting. It's only a temporary pain. You'll figure out what you want, and you have your best friend in the world kneeling in front of you, willing to do anything if it'll help.

"I should be nicer to you," you murmur.

"You're plenty nice. But if you're still feeling guilty, I'd die for a kiss, sweetheart."

You wipe your face with your sleeves, wet cheeks, snotty nose, and brush your hair away so you look like someone worth kissing. "Do I look okay?"

"You look beautiful," Steve says fondly, leaning in for a kiss. His hands bracelet your wrists. "So pretty," he says between kisses.

"Don't," you chastise lightly, "this is why I keep getting knocked up."

"In that case," he says against your lips. He deepens the kiss against your charmed laughter, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, holding you still in the face of his ardency.

You part before things can get heated and he lets you apologise again, though he insists it isn't necessary, your arms over his shoulders, your nose in his hair. He's always been so good like that —Steve doesn't hold a grudge with you (though others may not be so lucky). He stands you up, brushes you down, even wipes your cheeks with a washcloth. It's why you could never send him to work. He's a caretaker down to the bone.

Bethie, sweet girl as she is, appears as he's wiping your puffy eyes. She's almost three and a half, and she's the cutest girl in existence if Steve is to be believed. He visibly softens at her entrance alone.

"Hello, Bethie-baby," he says, "we were wondering where you were. Did you finish your crackers?"

She's a daddy's girl and she always has been, so it surprises you when she pretty much ignores him and holds her hands up to you. You pick her up, let her settle against your chest.

"Hey, Beth."

"Missed you," she says.

"Oh, you did?" you ask, overjoyed. You sniffle the last of your upset away and lock it down tight.

She's a quiet baby. You worried she had developmental issues at first (which wouldn't have mattered in terms of love, but worried all the same), though these days your theory is that she doesn't want to speak very much. She likes to communicate in other ways, namely affection, and her face brushes yours as she hugs you.

You pat her back like she knows she likes. Steve smiles at you from over his shoulders. You wear twin expressions —I'm sorry, I love you, isn't she lovely?

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hyuuukais · 8 months

Text

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ SUNSHINE AND STRAWBERRIES

pairing ☆ lee felix x fem reader

synopsis ☆ Y/N is a new streamer. after months of planning, and her best friend & now fellow streamer han jisung convincing her, she makes a twitch and youtube account. thanks to jisung giving her a shoutout to his own huge following, she gains some unexpected overnight fame. but what was more unexpected was waking up to see her long-time favourite comfort streamer _sunshine.bbokari_ following her.

warnings ☆ swearing

[TAGLIST -> CLOSED]

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

☆partially written chapter, 6 screenshots☆

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE ☆ COMING CLEAN

When you look up, your eyes lock with Kai's across the room, who gives you a thumbs up. The backup plan was he'd act like he just came in, notice you, and make up something normal enough to seem believable, rambling while bringing you out leaving no room for questioning. While you feel ready to tell Jake, you have no idea how he'll respond, so an out was needed.

After a few minutes of waiting, someone slides across from you. Your eyes stay on the table, too nervous to look at him. It's been so long... what if you look up and all you see in his eyes is disappointment? Or anger? Or hate?

He could hate you, you think, if he doesn't already, he will after this. Y/N, how could you?

The little voice in your head doesn't stop, breathing becoming shallow. A hand rests softly on your wrist, bringing you back to reality- it's Jake, of course it's Jake.

"Dont listen to the voice," He says softly, eyes knowing. "Just tell me what it is."

"I..." You rub your collarbone with your free hand. "Promise you won't hate me?"

Bewildered, he shakes his head, looking away briefly only to look back more intensely then before.

"Y/N I could never hate you." His voice is low. "You could break my heart into a million pieces, I still wouldn't be able to hate you."

Tears prickle at the edges of your eyes. A waitress is about to approach, but seeing your expression and the way Jake's hand is still resting on yours, she turns to another table. Part of you so desperately wants- no, needs- an interruption.

Kai watches the two of you from afar, wondering if he should step in when he sees your panicked look. But you said wait for the signal, two taps to your right temple.

"C'mon, Y/N, you've got this..." Kai sips his drink, leg bouncing, anticipation coursing through his body.

Your eyes brush over him, but quickly look back to Jake with a deep breath.

"When you told me how you felt, I panicked. I didn't know how to respond, so I..." You break eye contact sheepishly. "I made something up. The boyfriend thing it... wasn't true. At the time, I thought it would hurt you less! Saying I had a boyfriend instead of just saying straight up, 'hey I don't like you like that! Sorry to break it to you!' But I know now how stupid that was-"

"You and Felix though-" Jake takes his hand away finally, and you could see the gears in his brain working. "It was all fake?"

When he looks up at you, you see more confusion than hurt.

"Um, yeah. But it's real now."

"Wait, wait, wait," He holds up his hands in a stopping motion. "What?"

"We were fake dating and now real dating?" You shrug.

There's a beat where no one says anything. Silence heavy, anxiety high, Jake's hands still in the air before suddenly dropping in a laugh.

"How the hell did you manage to actually pull the Lee Felix?!" He shakes his head more, leaning back with a smile on his face. "That's actually- wow. I can't- wow!"

Now you're more confused then ever.

"You're not... mad?

"Mad? No- well, maybe a bit upset you lied, but then I have to think, would I have done different?" Jake pretends he's deep in thought, hand rubbing his chin. "Yeah, probably. But who knows for sure that I wouldn't have faked a girlfriend?"

You laugh, tension easing away slowly.

"I'm sorry for blocking you," Jake's tone turns serious, causing the tightness in your chest to return. "Not my best idea, but I didn't know what to do. It was hard seeing you everywhere, and I needed to clear my head, feel my feelings." He looks away, cheeks flushed. "What if I told you I met someone while we weren't talking? And that she helped me a lot with getting over you? Like talking through stuff, helping me realize I'd rather have you as a friend over anything else... and in the process I may have... fell for her?"

He looks so embarrassed you can't help the giggle that escapes you.

"Oh my god?" You gasp, trying to contain yourself. "That's so- of course you would!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake's cheeks burn a brighter shade of pink.

"Nothing, just- that's so... almost sweet?" A disgusted look crosses your face. "You didn't hear that from me." He laughs. "I'm happy for you, but damn did blocking me hurt. I might need some time before we get back to normal, but this is a good start."

"I totally understand that," A small smile forms on his face. "Why don't we go ahead and finally order? Oh, and tell Kai he can join us."

"You- you knew he was here?!" It was your turn to blush.

"He's kinda hard to hide..."

You both burst into giggles, signalling Kai to join your table.

☆~☆~☆

notes ☆ it's out in the open !!!!! i was like hmm i COULD make this kinda sad, but decided not to bc y/n deserves a string of good things rn

taglist ☆ @marcillfll @toplinelix @neri-ner @tfshouldidohere @imasimplol @samvagejkflxhrt @yennifersgeralt @aestheticsluut @cherryuqii @tenebrisirae @roseidol @veryjeongintxtkid @amara-mars @chrizzlaptop @bmnyy @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @ellelabelle @gini143 @mrsseals16 @veedoesntknaur @channiesstars @daydreamer5006 @luvvvash @amesification @skzswife @blamemef0rit @soulphoenix1618 @lovingmny @stvrfir3 @boo-ven9eance @adestayskz @rag-iii @enchantedgrunge @mytherapisttoldmenotto @strawberry-dreamland @oh-my-fancan @lucktales @cookielino @fantasyaddict123 @sleeplessmin @alexxxxxthebitxh @flirtyskzbutterfly @vixensss @hannahs-docx @hash2013 @jellsxox @sserafimez @theblindhag @liknws @hannahhbahng

pink means i can't tag you

#✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ SUNSHINE AND STRAWBERRIES #skz #stray kids #skz smau #social media au #lee felix x reader #stray kids smau #lee felix #lee felix x fem reader #non idol felix #non idol au #stray kids streamer au #felix streamer au #streamer au

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mattsgirlie · 3 months

Text

never existed part 2- chris sturniolo x fem! reader

warnings: mentions of cheating, soft dom!chris, angst, mentions of drinking and smut.

word count: 3000 (sorry)

My relationship with Matt was honestly far better than it was two months ago, after i completely ended things with Chris, Matt and I became official and got a chance to get it right.

That didn't stop Chris from staring at us across the room with a pathetic entitled attitude like he knew something we didn't every time he was around, which was barely since he was jumping from party to party every night.

Matt didn't quite understood why his brother became so constantly bitter and mad towards everyone, especially the two of us but thought he was just going through a phase.

Nick even shared his theory about Chris being in love with someone and i laughed, "As if he was capable of that" was my answer.

Matt is out tonight and i just chose to stay home with Nick watching movies. Nick is my best friend since middle school and hiding from him what happened between me and Chris made me almost lose it.

"I know it was before you and Matt became official but it doesn't make it less fucked up girl. I love you and i'm sorry but i can't back you up on this one, you gotta tell Matt"

Nick said from the other side of the couch and i nodded in agreement knowing he was fully right.

"I know but i was- Well i am so scared, me and Matt are finally working out....but yeah i have to tell him, i can't base our relationship on a lie"

"What about Chris?"

"What do you mean?" I asked confused.

"Do you feel something for him or was it just casual?" He asked trying to understand the full picture and i sigh heavily.

"I can't say i haven't thought about it but Chris was always more of a friend with benefits type of thing, he is not the guy to catch feelings i guess"

"I don't know about that...i always saw the way he looked at you and talked about you, and now that you told me this it kinda makes sense with this attitude problems" Nick said frankly, concerned about his younger brother.

"Nah, he probably is just mad he lost a fuck buddy that's all..." I try my best to brush it off but his words actually got me thinking

He simply agreed and we switched topics as he noticed i was uncomfortable, plus we had a lot of catching up to do. We decided to put on classic disney movies and stay up all night like old times.

Already 2 movies in my phone rings with the name "Christopher" bright on the screen and it took me a minute thinking if i should even read it after almost three months without us having a proper conversation.

Christopher: my room rn

Christopher: its urgent

Christopher: i wouldnt text you if it wasnt and yk it

My hands are shaking at this point as i almost immediately stand up, i know he is right he would never text me if it wasn't important.

"Be right back, bathroom" I mumbled in a hurry, not even waiting for Nick to say anything back as i make my way up to Chris' room.

I knock two times and get no answer back, i stand there in silence for a while until i hear him mumbling a "Come in".

I walk in to see Chris on the floor with his back leaning on the foot of the bed, the lights were all off except for the LED in purple.

Chris had some empty bottles badly hidden under the bed and he looked half drunk, his phone was tossed on the carpet with our chat opened.

He looked deadened, his expression was dull as i ran to him "Chris what the fuck happened??"

"You happened" was what he answered almost immediately whilst i stood there astonished "What is that even supposed to mean?"

He looked up at me and i swallowed a lump of air, he didn't even say a word.

"You called me here, what did you want?" i insisted as i sat next to him still apprehensive and confused

"I wanted to tell you something but first i gotta ask you a question, after that you can go back to pretending i never existed or whatever"

His voice was raspy and bitter, not like usually because this time i could tell he was truly hurt "You know it's not that simple, Chris"

I say feeling the guilt wash me over "Yeah, your relationship is great you don't need me anymore, i see it pretty simply actually" He adjusted his posture still sounding mad.

"Ask your question, Christopher" I look him in the eyes getting equally angry trying to find a way out of that topic.

"Why'd you chose him?"

I was stunned for a second but answered the first thing that came to mind "You never said choosing you was an option"

Chris looks at me in genuine surprise like he didn't expect that to be my answer, carefully thinking about his next words.

"So would you? If you thought it was an option?" He asked low, almost shyly which surprised me to say the least as i grew just as angry as him with his question about an impossible case scenario.

"Don't put me in this position Chris you know it's fucking complicated. I'm with Matt now and we are finally making it work and i don't wanna-"

"He doesn't deserve you" he cuts me mid sentence growing angrier and impatient.

"What do you know about deserving? You always treated me like i was your fuck toy and when i get the chance to be happy for once you come back with this"

"You were my fuck toy? Are you actually being serious right now? If anything you would only text me when you wanted to fuck away all the shit he put you through, not the other way around"

At this point Nick could probably hear us shouting but that wasn't our main concern as i felt my face go red considering his words.

"When i first came into this room i was looking for a friend that i really saw in you, one thing lead to another and i'm so sorry it happend that way but now i am truly happy why can't you just fucking accept that??!"

"It's not a matter of accepting is just that-"

"What Chris? Just say it already!"

"He is cheating on you" He half shouted again looking down to his lap and to me as he kept going "He has been for a long time now and he probably is as we speak"

I had no words. When i used to go to Chris for a casual thing i knew with Matt i wasn't the only one either just the main, although we fought a lot and had disagreements he seemed genuine when he asked me to be his real girlfriend two months ago and promised everything would be different.

"Does he know about me and you?" I said in an indescribable tone and Chris looked up again checking for any signs of reaction "I don't think so"

"And i felt fucking guilty for not telling him while he had a side bitch all along" I laughed in disbelief.

I went under his bed getting a full bottle and opening it without warning "What the fuck are you doing??"

"How long did you know about that?" I ask back, drinking straight from the bottle as he looked at me with concern then grabbed his phone going through his camere roll.

"Since last night for sure but i've been suspecting for a while. We went out together and he started making out with this girl that said she was his 'close friend' out of nowhere, i even had to uber home"

He shows me a photo where she is sitting on his lap in some photobooth at a random party.

"He thought i was too drunk to notice but they seem to go a long way, i figured you should know" He sounds calmer now, even subtly sweet "Hey go easy with that" He warns about the drink.

"Stop acting like you care" I chuckle ironically whilst standing up and he follows me "If i didn't care about you i wouldn't even have told you about this, have you thought about that?"

"If i didn't care about you i wouldn't have fought with my own brother for being a shitty boyfriend to you today" He walked towards me and i felt my limbs go numb.

"I wouldn't have you in my room when you guys would fight although i was only hurting my own feelings in return because i loved you so damn much since then"

Our faces are now inches apart, his eyes are pitch black and i couldn't breathe for a second "Did you just say you loved me?"

He goes silent again, he breaths heavily starting to walk away and i follow.

"Don't turn your fucking back on me Christopher i asked you a question, did you mean it?"

"Yeah i did but does it change shit?" He turns back around and i see his eyes getting teary "I love you and it's fucking hard cause i never loved anyone before and you don't love me back how am i supposed to feel?"

This is the most serious he has ever sound in his life and it hurts me to see how genuine his feelings are.

"But you always acted like it was no big deal when we were together. Chris, we barely even talked once we started to mess things up" I realized my bad wording once i saw him trying to hide his tears starring down the carpet.

"So that's all i was to you? Just a fucking slip huh?" his voice cracked and he turned back in a deep breath.

"Chris...listen to me" I get closer, facing him as i place my hands on his shoulder.

"Theres too much going on right now but i need you to understand that you meant- ...you mean a lot to me, you were always there for me since middle school and i always loved and admired you"

We are both tearing at this point and i see his expression softening.

"You were never just a slip, you're one of my favorite persons and i don't know what i would've done if Matt didn't introduce me to you and Nick back then and God i just-" He wipes my tears away delicately.

"You're not gonna pull the 'i wish i met you earlier' shit are you?" He jokes and i sigh in relief since this is the nicest we have been to each other in a long time.

"Im not the girl for this and you know it" i joke back and he smiles slightly "I just wish this whole thing wasn't so fucked up"

"Tell me about it, has been the main thing in my mind since the last time you were here" Chris looks at the bed then at me as if he was reminiscing.

"I missed you a lot when i left but it really thought it was for the best....if i knew this was how it would end i-"

"You would stay?" He asked seriously.

I take a minute to consider my answer, my brain still trying to sink in all the information.

"Yes....i would've stayed" We are now dangerously close, my hands around his shoulders and his are cupping my cheeks as our noses almost brush and i can feel his breath.

"So stay now" He holds me closer by my waist and i gasp at his sudden move "Be mine now, please"

And with that our faces gravitate towards each other's like it was meant to be, noses brushing and lips connected passionately.

Right here it feels so right for both of our dizzy broken hearts as we finally found the comfort we both so seeked for in others.

We sloppy moved towards the bed never breaking the kiss and soon i was on top of him while grabbing his hair.

"Do you want me to be all yours?" I asked straddling him as my hands moved to cup his cheeks.

"Thats all i need, please i want all of you" He pleaded holding my hips and i was surprised to see the change in his demeanor but that didn't mean i was fully enjoying it.

We kiss again this time more eagerly whilst our clothed hips rock against each other seeking friction "You have me, baby"

And with that Chris possessivly groans, he then trailed kisses down my neck and collarbone "I never got a chance to mark you up, now i can show everyone that you're mine, no one elses"

He explained while marking that one sweet spot which causes me to moan. My hands find their way under his shirt, my fingernails now scratching his back just as territorial as Chris and he chuckles.

"We're re such a lost cause" he mumbles as he moves to take off both our shirts.

"We so are" i chuckle getting up to remove the sweatpants i had on and he smiles.

"What? theres nothing here you haven't seen before" i joke taunting he just grabs my hips pulling me towards him.

"Its 'cause i know i will be the only one seeing this from now on"

He looks up at me as im still standing, pressing a gentle kiss on my lower stomach going down my thighs causing me to chuckle.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Chris affirmed almost immediately as his hands trailed up to remove my panties, kissing and worshiping my whole body as he did so.

It was different then any other time we had sex. It was intimate, not just two bodies but actual feelings involved still just as eager.

"What d'you want me to do princess? want me to kiss you here huh?" he kissed my inner thigh and my hands move to grab his hair as i whimpered.

"Want me to eat you out? make you cum in my tongue over and over again?" And he started doing so causing me to gasp.

"Yes... Chris! doing so good for me hm" He looks up at me lustfully flicking his tongue.

"So fucking wet for me...you have no idea how much i missed this." He groans between my legs and i whine.

"I-mhpm...I do! I missed this too fuck i missed the way you make me feel" I confess and he stops his movements suddenly getting up to kiss me again.

"Now you have me, baby and i'm not about to let you go ever again" He moves us over to the bed again, this time removing his sweatpants and underwear.

Stroking himself a feel times he hums over me "Ready?" He asked positioning between my legs.

"Wait! can you grab your phone for me baby?" I ask and he frowns confused but does it anyway handing it to me unlocked.

"Im ready now love" I smile devilishly and he does the same as he starts to push his dick inside me in deep slow thrusts, the room filled up with our moans as i sloppy try to find a specific number on his phone.

"Fuck....Chris! Right there, oh my god! Faster please please" I plea as i feel he hit the right spot clenching around him i feel him throb.

"Baby i wont last longer if you keep saying my n-name and tightening around me like that" He tilts his head back but quickly looks back at me when he hears his phone ringing.

"Don't worry about it, just lay on your back, can you do that for me?" I say before he can even think of an answer and we switch positions, me being now on top of him, sinking down my hips.

"Im going to ride you and all you have to do is be as loud as you can okay?" I start bouncing up and down and he just nods with his eyes shut feeling the pleasure.

"Matt! Finally...mhp W-where are you baby?" I say with difficulty due to my moves and I see Chris confused whisper shouts a 'what are you doing?!' and i put it on speaker.

"Im...out with friends like i told you, wait why are you calling from Chris's phone?" He asked confused and i just roll my eyes passing the phone to Chris, winking

"Hm...hey bro s-she fuck! she is busy right now but i can answer that one" He moans getting the message as i go faster and faster.

"What the fuck are you two doing? Give her the phone i wanna talk to my girlfriend" Matt says impatiently on the other side understanding what is going on

Chris presses a finger on my clit rubbing it which makes me shout his name "Your ex girlfriend is getting the treatment she deserves Matthew can you believe it? I'm so deep inside her right now she's never going back to you again, tell him baby"

He's enjoying it just as much as i am, gladly being louder as i feel my orgasm approach taking the phone back "Im s-so sorry for your side bitch...she will never get to cum like im about to right now" i hear him yelling that he's coming back home and with that i hang up.

Chris is half sitting to get support to thrust up now meeting my motions, he gives special attention to my boobs making me squeeze him inside me and our orgasms hit almost at the same time

His mouth hovered over my neck going to my earlobe were we bites and whispers.

"Such exhibitionists aren't we?"

We laughed, i lie on top of him whilst he brushed his fingers over my hair. After a while he carries me to his bathroom and clean us up.

Once we are back at his bed he hands me one of his favorite shirts and holds me tight, his arm pulling me closer.

"That's the first time im actually staying in" I comment smiling at our fingers intertwined.

"Get used to it 'cause you're never leaving"

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader

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grandwretch · 1 year

Text

only i must wander

[chapter one] [on AO3]

In the months before Steve's graduation, he and Dustin had something of a routine going on. Every Friday afternoon, Steve would pick Dustin up from Hawkins Middle School and they would drive out to the McDonald's one exit over. They even ordered the same thing every week: A Big Mac for Steve, nuggets for Dustin, two Cokes, and a supersized fry. After driving slowly back to Hawkins they would eat in the arcade parking lot, and when they were done they would either spend the rest of the afternoon trying to kill each other over air hockey or renting shitty science fiction movies. Whichever Dustin wanted, really.

It wasn't anything like Steve's life had been just six months ago, but he loved every second of it. Even when Dustin was getting mud all over his upholstery and asking too many questions.

On that particular Friday night, Steve had been late picking Dustin up because Mrs. O'Donnell had stopped him in the hallway on the way out, for the third time this month. Some bullshit about him not "applying" himself, or whatever, and how she didn't "feel it was right" that Steve had passed her class when he'd obviously learned so little. Which was bullshit, Steve thought, because she taught fucking English, which he already spoke, and he'd been pulling solid C's in her class all semester.

So most of the conversation had been about that, really, with Steve complaining about how every teacher he'd ever had hated him, and Dustin scolding him just as fiercely as any teacher ever had. A typical Friday night.

Tonight, however, Dustin paused, mid-sentence.

"Are you ever going to tell me why your eyes do that when you're mad?"

Steve paused, a french fry halfway to his mouth. He looked over at Dustin, who was staring at him from the passenger seat. He was almost used to it, a kid spending every day in the seat next to him instead of Nancy or Tommy, but big, curious eyes still threw him off from time to time. Especially when they came paired with off the wall questions like this.

"Why do my eyes do what, Dustin?"

"You know," Dustin said, gesturing to Steve's face with his burger. "When you get mad they go all black and stuff. Kinda like El's do when she uses her powers, but you don't--" Steve had never seen Eleven actually fight, but he had seen her do small tricks now and again for the boys. Her eyes were more like pits, her entire face wrinkling around the deep depths. Steve felt his stomach churn just thinking about the same in his own face.

The reflection in the rearview mirror was the same as it had always been. Hazel eyes, smooth skin marred only by a few moles. Steve made himself breathe.

"I think I would know," Steve said, keeping his voice carefully steady. He was trying to be less bitchy around the kids, but sometimes they made it so goddamn hard. "--if my face looked like that. It probably-- It probably hurts, right?"

"Not really," Dustin said, with enough conviction that it tore Steve's gaze away from his own reflection. "Anyway, it's not your face. It's just your eyes. Look, I don't know what kind of Wesen you are, man, but you can talk to me about it, whatever it is. You know I'm one, too, right?"

"A-- a what?" If this was another one of those weird fantasy novel things, he was going to finally strangle the little shit, he really was.

"A Wesen," Dustin repeated, looking as confused as Steve felt. "Like-- like me and El."

'Like me and El,' Steve thought, turning the sentence around in his head. He was not equipped for this, Jesus. It had to be hard, growing up fighting monsters and stuff, and having one of your best friends be a weird ass superhero, but Steve hadn't expected Dustin to deal with it by playing pretend. He'd always been the most grounded in reality of the kids. It was why Steve could put up with him for more than a couple hours.

"Buddy, maybe you should talk to your mom about this stuff," Steve said, slowly. "Or like Mrs. Byers or somebody."

Dustin rolled his eyes, which Steve thought was pretty rich coming from someone sitting in his car and talking about made up words. "Oh my god, Steve. Look."

And then-- And then.

Steve didn't know how to explain it. One moment, he was looking at Dustin, the kid he'd become absurdly attached to over the past semester, and then something shifted. In the next breath, Dustin was... different. Light brown hair had sprouted all over his face, smooth and straight and so unlike the curly mop still on top of his head. His nose had changed, the bridge gone flatter and wider, the end still hairless but now a deep dark brown, like a dog's. Underneath his nose, his lip was cleft, opened wide so Steve could see even more clearly the gap where Dustin's teeth should be. On either side of the cleft, whiskers sprouted, white and long.

His eyes were the same, though. Dustin's eyes, staring out of a beaver's face.

Two years ago, Steve would have screamed. He would have thrown things. He would have been out of the car in two seconds flat. His flight reflex had been recently shattered, though, and now all he could do was stare and try not to choose the other option-- fight.

This was Dustin, Steve told every dark instinct swelling up in the back of his mind. This was his best friend. Not something that crawled out of the Upside Down, not something stalking through the night. His kid.

Dustin blinked at him, with a silly smile on his inhuman face. "See?"

Steve's hands gripped the steering wheel, fingernails digging into the leather. "Dustin, what the fuck is happening right now?"

The smile faded on Dustin's face slowly. "Do you not-- Steve, come on. You've seen El do this like a thousand times."

"She's El!" Steve said, his voice going higher with stress. He could feel his muscles start to shake with the effort of keeping himself in place. "She's got, like, powers and shit! She was born in a lab and experimented on! You're-- You're just Dustin!"

"Okay, ouch," Dustin said. A pout began to form on his face. "Okay, yeah, El is special, but there are people who like her who are, like, normal Wesen you know?"

"You keep saying that word."

"You know, like--" Dustin gestured between them with-- Jesus fucking Christ, with a fucking paw. "You and me."

Steve had to get out of the car. His heart was going so fast he could feel it in his ear drums, in the roof of his mouth. It took too long for his shaking hands to open the door, and by the time his feet hit the dirt, he could feel adrenaline churning his stomach. Behind him, he could hear Dustin calling his name, the passenger door opening, but it only spurred on Steve's desire to get away.

He stumbled a few feet, his legs too weak to carry him far, until hands grabbed at his jacket. Steve whirled around, ready to fight-- Your kid! A smaller part of his brain screamed at him. --but Dustin was... Human again.

"What the fuck, Dustin," Steve couldn't stop repeating. "What the fuck."

"Steve," Dustin said, deadly serious. "Are you seriously telling me you've never met another Wesen before?"

"Stop saying that."

"What?"

"Stop saying that I'm one of you! I'm not. I don't-- I'm normal. Stop saying that."

Dustin's eyes were too understanding. Steve fucking hated it when he did shit like this, when he could just look at Steve and got him, because Steve barely understood why he did what he did, sometimes. How did this fucking kid always seem to know him? And if he could, why didn't anyone else ever manage?

"Steve," Dustin said again, pitched low and calm like he was trying to soothe a rabid dog. Like Steve was a monster, crawling the junkyard, looking for blood. "Look at your eyes right now."

There was a compulsion in Steve's blood that would not let him look away any longer. He had to look, had to face his own reflection already knowing it would ruin him. Steve raised his eyes to the car window, and its distorted mirror image of his face.

For a moment, Steve almost had hope. His face was not marked or pitted like El's, nor was it covered in fur like Dustin's. It was his nose, his skin, his moles, his mouth. The scars that littered his face in the last two years were faint, but still visible. Steve could still feel one of them in the corner of his upper lip. It was almost easy to miss, almost easy to chalk it all up to a bad joke. But then Steve met his own gaze, and all illusion was shattered.

It was like a trick of the light; They were the same size and shape as Steve's own, lined with the same delicate eyelashes, but there was no mistaking the change. His eyes were black. Not the deep void that stared out of El's other face, no. At first they seemed dead and glassy, like a shark's, but the longer he stared, the more Steve became aware of something moving inside them, like smoke behind glass.

Steve didn't feel his knees grow weak or his legs buckle underneath him. He barely felt it when he landed on the ground. One moment he was standing, and the next he was on the asphalt, staring up at Dustin. Dustin, who looked down at him with such a mixture of confusion and sorrow that Steve felt, bizarrely, like his change was more inhuman than all the fur and torn flesh in the world.

"What the fuck," Steve said, his voice croaking in his throat. "What's happening to me? Dustin, what the fuck is happening to me?"

"I don't know," Dustin said, and-- Embarassingly, Steve let out a thin noise of panic, because he was absolutely fucked if Dustin was admitting he didn't know something. "I mean, I have a theory, but..." Dustin cut himself off and looked around the parking lot. They were alone here, had chosen it specifically so they could laugh and play Dustin's tapes as loud as they wanted to, but he still scanned the area with more suspicion than Steve had seen out of him in months. It made Steve's instincts kick in, had him scrambling to his feet to put himself in between whatever danger Dustin suspected of the world around them. "We really shouldn't do this here."

"Is this..." Steve swallowed, his hands shaking. "Is this Upside Down shit? Is it because of the tunnels? Did I-- Did I breathe too many spores in or something?"

Dustin considered the idea for only half a moment before dismissing it with a shake of his head. "No, if this was a symptom, Will would have displayed the same ones while he was in the hospital last year. No, this has to be... Come on, Steve, let's go home. I promise, I'll tell you everything I know. Just not where people can hear us."

"This is fucking insane," Steve muttered to himself, but he climbed back in the car, hands shaking.

The ride to Steve's house was tense, neither of them speaking, although Steve could sense Dustin throwing him concerned looks the entire way. He usually hated when the kid did that, mostly because he didn't need a thirteen year old's concern, thank you so much, Dustin, but today it rankled Steve's nerves worse than ever. Everything in his body wanted to fight something, but the only enemy he could identify was inside his own head. Dustin's gaze on him only made it worse, made Steve so jumpy he imagined, several times, jumping from the moving car.

Whatever was wrong with him, it didn't stop at his eyes.

Steve stormed down his driveway and threw open his front door. Dustin scurried in after him as if afraid to be left behind, and Steve had a brief pang of guilt, but then he caught sight of himself in the long mirror that hung along the foyer and-- He turned away, swallowing bile. "Alright, kitchen," he said. "I need a fucking beer."

They sat on either side of his mother's breakfast nook, the only place Steve ever ate alone. Steve had a beer, one of the last few he'd been nursing since his party days ran out. Dustin had a root beer in front of him, untouched. They stared at each other, unsure.

It was time to be a fucking adult, Steve decided, and unstuck his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth.

"What was that word you kept using?" he asked.

"Wesen," Dustin answered, his mouth a grim line. "That's what I am. That's what El is. Or was? It's not really clear."

"But it's what she was supposed to be," Steve said, and when Dustin nodded, he sucked in a breath. "And what I am."

Dustin squirmed on his stool. "I think so."

"So... So what the fuck is it?" Steve shook his head, confused by the very words coming out of his mouth. "Am I going to start growing fur? Or-- Or get all wrinkly or whatever, like El when she uses her powers?"

"No, it's not--" Dustin paused, his face creased with the uncomfortable feeling of having no idea how to explain something. "I only know what my mom has told me, which isn't, like, a lot. But we're not like humans."

"Yeah," Steve scoffed. "I got that."

"What I mean is, we're part of the same community but we're not all the same. We probably have some stuff in common, but I don't know how much. I can't exactly go to the library to figure this stuff out." Dustin's voice held the long-suffering frustration of a child who'd been asking the same questions for a very long time, with no adult willing to answer. Steve was usually all for it, being the first to encourage the kids to say fuck adults and do it themselves, but he was still lost in a sea of information that made no fucking sense to him.

"Can we just-- Explain it to me like I'm really stupid."

"I want you to know that I'm not making a joke right now because I can tell you're in a really vulnerable place."

"Thank you so much, Dustin."

"You remember Star Wars, right?" Dustin asked.

Steve's head tilted. "The movie you made me watch over Christmas break? With the laser swords? Yeah, I remember them."

"Alright, so, everyone in that movie is an alien, right? Some of them look like humans, but they're not from Earth. And some of them don't look like humans at all. They're all from separate planets, some of them entirely separate species, but they're all aliens."

Steve blinked at Dustin for a long moment before his face collapsed into disbelief. "We are not fucking aliens."

Dustin's glare was legendary. "No, you idiot. But we're not human, either."

"Then what am I?" Steve raised a hand to stop the answer he could already see coming. "And don't say Wes… That word. I can't just be not human. People aren't… whatever they're not. I have to be something."

"I don't know," Dustin said. "I don't know a lot of the names. My mom is kinda…"

Steve nodded. Mrs. Henderson's brand of flighty overprotectiveness was well known to the entire group, and probably most of Hawkins by now. Dustin was allowed to spend whatever time he wanted with Steve, even staying over at his house when Steve's parents were out of town, but Steve had also been horrified to find that Mrs. Henderson had woefully unprepared the kid for things like puberty or high school. Dustin said his mom didn't like to talk about things that upset her, and Steve guessed that other Wesen was one of those subjects, much like Dustin growing up or rock music.

Steve felt himself begin to calm. Whatever happened, it was bound to be easier than the time he had to explain to Dustin what a pube was.

"Do you think she might know?"

"Probably, but we can't ask her." Dustin was beginning to look actually distressed. "There's no way she would let us hang out again."

Steve's stomach sank. "Really?"

"When she found out the founder of the D&D club at Hawkins High was a Blutbad, she made me promise I would never join," Dustin said. Brightening, he continued, "Oh, wait, duh! Your parents have to know; They must be Wesen, too! Just ask them."

Bradley Harrington's eyes had never gone black, Steve was pretty sure, though they had definitely been angry enough a time or two. He couldn't imagine his mother, Sophia, as anything less than human, either. They were both so… normal, although sometimes so damn keen on being completely on-trend that Steve suffocated with it. Half of the trouble Steve had gotten himself into over the years was more about calling too much attention to himself than legitimately bad behavior. Steve was sure they would be just as annoyed by having a genius like Dustin as a son as they were having an idiot like him.

He tried to imagine what his father would say if Steve called just to tell them his eyes had changed color, and winced.

"If they wanted me to know, they would have told me," Steve said, grimly.

"Well, fuck," Dustin said, which Steve thought pretty much summed it up, yeah.

After a moment of stewing in his own misery, Steve remembered to ask, "So what are you, then?"

Dustin's chest puffed up with pride, and a ripple of fur sped across his face. "I'm an Eisbiber!"

"That means absolutely nothing to me, you gotta know that."

"We're like beaver people, basically. Mom says it's impolite to compare people to animals but–" Dustin shrugged. "I call it like I see it. I'm a beaver. Lots of Wesen have animal attributes."

"What, like a werewolf or something?" Steve asked, incredulous.

"Those are Blutbads," Dustin confirmed. His voice dropped to a whisper. "But Mom says if you call a Blutbad a werewolf to their face, they'll eat you."

Suddenly, Steve could only think of demodogs, their faces peeled open and saliva shining in the moonlight. All those fucking teeth.

He nodded slowly. "I'll… keep that in mind." Shifting in his chair, Steve thought about the tight, inner group of the Party, and the way he hadn't really been a part of it before last fall. Even within their small group, there had always been an air of mystery about El and her origins. Even Nancy hadn't had many ideas, when Steve had gotten the courage to approach her about everything post-breakup, but if Dustin had known the whole time... "So how many people know about this stuff, then? Are Lucas and Mike like you? Is that why everything happened with Will that first time?"

"I don't think Wesen are that common," Dustin said, "though that might just be a Hawkins thing? Like I said, it's hard to do research. Lucas and Mike don't know. I'm not sure how much Will knows, honestly."

"But they know about El," Steve said, frowning.

Dustin paused, looking guilty. "I know. That's the problem. Mike treats El like a superhero, and I'm not... Eisbibers aren't like Hexenbiests, especially superpowered ones made in labs. We mostly make things. I don't want him to think I'm... I mean. You know. It's bad enough, already, with the human shit."

"Look, Mike and I have never gotten along, but I don't think he would do that. Whatever Wheeler is, a bully isn't one of them." Steve knew what a bully looked like. Scrawny, angry twelve years olds didn't make the list.

"Alright, so you tell them you're a--" Dustin paused. "A whatever, then."

"I will," Steve said, "the second we can figure out what the fuck it is I'm supposed to be. What about Hop? I mean, how much would El have told him?"

"Nothing about you." Dustin shrugged. "El was raised in a lab by humans, presumably. She didn't even know what she was. My mom had to tell Hop everything, and then made him promise me and El would never be allowed to hang out alone."

Steve thought of angry little El, eyes painted to match her second face, who wanted to be with her friends so badly that she ran away to find her past. "I bet that Kali girl could have helped us."

"Good luck finding her. I'm pretty sure she was half Musai," Dustin said. Steve wished he'd just stop saying shit like Steve was supposed to understand it. Being stupid about human stuff may be embarrassing, but he refused to be bullied for not knowing the names of every single race of a species he'd just realized he was a part of.

"This is insane," Steve said. He slumped in his chair, and looked around his kitchen. It looked just like he'd left it this morning, the kind of half-cluttered that houses inevitably got when they were lived in by people who desperately didn't want to be there. Filled up with the necessities of life but abandoned just as quickly. Clean dishes haphazardly placed around the room and junk mail months old still piled on the counter. His bread box was empty, half a loaf of bread still sitting in its wrapper on top.

It should be different, he decided. Not just his kitchen, but his entire world. That's how things had been when he'd seen the demogorgon in the Byers' house-- He'd realized things about the world in that moment that had changed everything. It was fast and violent, and the next morning he had looked at himself in the mirror and not recognized the kid looking back at him. It was the same for everything he'd ever loved, even the people, and while Steve had spent a lot of time looking back, he'd always known there was no resetting time before that moment.

He was starting to think he'd preferred the violent realization to this slow roll of information. Now Steve was left with the knowledge that the world had already been just as it was, and Steve had just been unable to see it. Right under his nose. His parents, his best friend, his fucking kitchen... the same as it had always been. He'd just been looking at it the wrong way.

That was a much harder pill to swallow. The demogorgon hadn't left Steve with much choice-- swallow or choke. Get it over with. Fight until you win. But how the fuck was Steve supposed to fight this? He felt helpless in a way he didn't often let himself be, disconnected from his body and vulnerable in the haze of his own thoughts. Like his soul was hanging raw and open in the space around him, and this part of him that was a living, breathing thing was left with no one home.

"We're gonna figure it out," Dustin said. Steve blinked slowly and pulled his gaze back to the kid who'd just blown his worldview to smithereens. Dustin's face was pulled tight with determination, leftover baby fat bunching adorably in his cheeks. He looked like an angry chipmunk, Steve thought hysterically, and then corrected himself: An angry beaver.

God, what the fuck had happened to his life?

"I'm serious, Steve," Dustin said, when it became clear that Steve wasn't going to react outside of a foggy gaze. "We're gonna figure this out, okay? Me and you."

"Yeah?" Steve said, the edge of a laugh in his voice. "We're gonna, what, hunt down what I am, what my parents are, completely on our own? You literally just said this shit was impossible to research."

"We don't need that shit," Dustin said, scoffing. "When have we ever needed evidence? Or, like, adults?"

Steve really wanted to protest that; As the older party and a practical adult himself, it was probably his job to insist on both evidence and adults for pretty much everything Dustin wanted to do, whether or not it involved fictional creatures that Steve may or may not be. The problem was, though, Dustin wasn't exactly... wrong. Hop and Joyce were the only adults that had ever been any help to either of them, and that was on a good day. Half the time they kinda just got in the way. Steve was pretty sure that if cops and doctors just listened to Nancy as much as they listened to the adults, they could have figured out most of this shit back in junior year.

"Fuck, okay," Steve said, pushing his hands through his hair. "Sure. Goddamn it."

"You are literally never allowed to tell me off for cussing again," Dustin said. He sounded unimpressed.

"Sorry, is my breakdown upsetting you?" Steve shot back, but he felt his muscles unclench enough that it no longer felt painful to breathe. Dustin's snark was honestly calming, though Steve would rather die than ever admit it. Still, it was a good reminder that no matter how scared Steve was, things hadn't gotten so bad that Dustin had lost his particular brand of sarcastic zen. As much as the little shit loved to dig into the most dangerous curiosities he could find, he wasn't exactly the sort to smile calmly into the face of death, so... So whatever Steve was, he could deal with it.

Probably.

"I'm going to go home," Dustin said, jumping out of his seat. Ignoring Steve's small sound of protest, he continued, "and you're going to take a shower and then a nap. Tomorrow, once you've calmed down, we can do some tests."

"Tests?" Steve repeated, his nose wrinkling. El had never really divulged what had gone on in the lab with him, but he knew just enough for his imagination to take over. He knew Dustin wasn't exactly the government experiment type, but he still hated the concept being applied to him. "See, this is exactly the kind of shit I didn't want to happen."

"Tough shit," Dustin said, stomping his way out of the kitchen. Rolling his eyes, Steve followed.

"Do you want a ride?" he asked, because he always did and, well... Whatever Dustin thought, Steve didn't exactly want to be alone right now. Also, he just found out there was a whole new kind of monster in this town, and every protective instinct in his body wasn't exactly jazzed about Dustin riding all the way home on his bike. "What about the B-- the Bad werewolves or whatever, you were talking about? You said one lived in Hawkins--"

"Blutbad," Dustin corrected as he wedged his feet back into the shoes he'd previously abandoned next to Steve's front door. "And I think I'll be okay. I've existed in the same town as them for thirteen years and I haven't gotten eaten even once."

"Not for lack of trying," Steve muttered under his breath, and then helped Dustin put his backpack on. Dustin let him, not complaining about being able to do it himself for once, and not for the first time Steve felt a small rush of affection for the kid. He knew not a lot of people understood why he and Dustin spent so much time together. Sure, sometimes the other kids were involved, Max and Lucas especially, but usually it was just Steve and Dustin. The other kids didn't really get it, and no matter what Dustin said, Steve wasn't sure they saw him as more than Dustin's big brother. As for Steve's old friends, well, Nancy had long stopped being impressed by Steve's ability to keep a kid alive for more than forty five minutes; She probably just thought it was pathetic now. Tommy sure gave him enough shit for it when Steve bothered to give him the time of day. God knew what Jonathan thought, outside of the stern nods they traded when Steve picked Will up for an arcade trip.

They just didn't understand the warmth in Steve's chest when Dustin let him help with something stupid and small. It didn't matter if Dustin could do it on his own. That had never been the point. Helping the kid put on backpacks and jackets, fixing his hair, making sure his grilled cheeses were evenly toasted on both sides so the texture didn't turn his stomach-- No matter how much Steve bitched, he loved doing every little thing no one had ever done for him.

"Listen, Steve," Dustin said, standing nervously in his doorway. "I want you to know that it doesn't matter."

Steve dragged himself out of his sentimental reverie. "What?"

Dustin squirmed, face pinched with thought. "What kind of Wesen you are, it doesn't matter. I'm gonna help you because you want to know, and that's-- That's cool. You've got a right to know, just like El. But knowing didn't change El, and it's not going to change you. You'll still be Steve, and Steve's pretty great."

Blinking, Steve couldn't respond for a moment. Finally, he managed to say, "Are you trying to pep talk me right now, Henderson?"

Embarrassment flooded Dustin's face, creasing his brown and throwing blush across his cheeks. "Okay, fuck you, see you in the morning, douchebag."

Laughing, Steve followed Dustin out the door and onto his front steps. "Hey, Dustin?" he called as he watched Dustin clamber onto his bicycle. Dustin looked up, eyes squinted in suspicion. "Thanks, man," Steve said, a blush rising in his own face.

Dustin grinned. "Welcome to the club, asshole," he said, and then sped out of the Harringtons' driveway as fast as his little Gumby legs could carry him. God, Steve loved that kid.

Dustin kept his promise. He was there the next morning, before Steve's neighbors had even left for church, with a list of potential 'tests' to try out. None of them were the weird science experiments that Steve had been dreading. Most of them, in fact, were just Steve trying to flex muscles he shouldn't have.

"Acid spit?" Steve read, incredulous.

"That one's a far reach," Dustin admitted. Shifting through his backpack, Dustin pulled out item after item, and Steve lowered the list to look doubtfully at the large slingshot that now sat on his kitchen table. "But I didn't want to leave anything out." It wasn't a long list, Steve noted, and most of it was ridiculous. No matter what Dustin said, he was pretty sure he'd have noticed something like kisses that drugged people or the ability to lead rats around.

Probably.

"Fine," Steve said, giving up. "But we're not doing this shit outside where the neighbors can see. The last thing I need is another rumor going around about King Steve."

"It's your house," Dustin said, shrugging, and threw the water balloon launcher over his shoulder.

To Steve's complete and utter lack of surprise, he did not have acid spit or any other set of superpowers. At Dustin's insistence, Steve ran across his backyard a few times, picked up some heavy things, caught a few launched tennis balls--

"I'm not playing anymore fetch," Steve decided, dropping the last of the tennis balls at Dustin's feet.

Dustin glared up at him with all the tiny rage of a scientist disrespected in his field. At least, Steve imagined. He hadn't known too many non-evil scientists in his life. "I'm trying to determine if you have super strength or improved reflexes."

"Oh, good," Steve said, and then flopped into his usual lawn chair. "I don't."

"You picked up a grill," Dustin protested, but even he didn't sound convinced.

"I was on three different sports teams for all four years of high school," Steve said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Dustin was only trying to help, and Steve knew he should be grateful. But once the panic had faded, all Steve was left with was this... irritation. Wasn't it enough that everything he'd ever known about his life had turned out to be a lie? One more lie on top of everything else turned out to be just one more pea under the princess' mattresses, and Steve was sick to death of vegetables in his bedding. "And I've been prepping to murder interdimensional monsters for the last two of 'em. Of fucking course I run fast and pick up heavy shit. It's, like, literally all I'm good at."

"I give up," Dustin said, throwing his arms up. Paper floated down around them, escaping from Dustin's clipboard. "You're the most useless Wesen in the world! If I hadn't seen you woge myself, I'd think you were an Eisbiber!"

"Jesus Christ, kid," Steve said, "Cool it on the beaver hate. Your mom's pretty cool."

Dustin's glare was intense enough that even Steve knew it was time to shut up. They sat in silence for a moment, Steve placidly watching as Dustin squinted into the reflective light of the pool. Steve had no idea what Dustin was thinking, and didn't have enough context to guess. At this point, Steve was ready to chalk the whole thing up to a trick of the light and move on with his life. Eventually, though, Dustin shook himself out of it and sat on the other end of the lounger, close enough their knees bumped together.

"Woge for me," Dustin demanded. Steve had learned enough that wogeing meant the change, the other 'face' that El and Dustin possessed. Dustin had talked about it at length that morning, talking about the difference reasons for it and how it might point to the truth of Steve's identity. None of the tests had worked, though, and Steve's eyes had stayed human.

"I don't think it's the same thing for me, man," Steve said. When he saw Dustin about to protest, he rushed to continue. The last thing he needed was another Henderson rant about the scientific method or some other bullshit Steve wouldn't bother to remember. "I tried for hours to make it happen last night, just so I could make sure that it had actually happened. Besides, it's only my eyes-- And your thing is literally everything but your eyes. Those stay human."

"But El's don't."

"El also looks like a literal diseased corpse when she changes," Steve said, tired. "Like we've said a million times, it's stupid to compare either of us to the girl literally created and then raised in a lab."

Even Dustin couldn't argue with that logic, but it didn't phase him for long. "Fine, then we just need to replicate the last time you woged, so I can take notes of all the characteristics I may have missed the last time," he said, slipping back into the overly professional voice that Steve was almost certain he'd stolen from one of his doctors.

Resisting the urge to groan, Steve frowned. "So, what, we have to go get in the car?"

"Maybe, if it doesn't work here, but I don't think the place is really the important variable here," Dustin said, and Steve supposed it was a sign of how seriously Dustin was taking this if he didn't even pause to ruthlessly bully Steve for getting it wrong. "How did you feel the last time your eyes changed? What caused the feelings?"

"Dustin, you were literally there," Steve sighed, but Dustin was already speaking over him before he could finish the sentence.

"Yeah, but I'm not you! I don't know what instincts were happening in that big head of yours!"

"I don't know, I was... upset?" Steve asked, and when Dustin rolled his eyes, he kicked at the kid's legs. "Hey! You're the one sounding like a fucking Hollywood therapist! What am I supposed to say? I just watched my best friend turn into a fucking beaver!"

Dustin's eyes narrowed. "You think my woge triggered yours?"

"I don't... know?" Steve leaned back in the chair, brow creasing as he tried to remember what had been going through his head before the panic of not recognizing his own reflection. The primal fear hung over every second of the memory now, but he knew that wasn't true. There had been adrenaline, yes, but Steve hadn't been scared of Dustin. His instincts had been more violent, almost angry. That had been what scared him, in the beginning. It hadn't been Dustin that sent him scrambling out of the car, but his own impulses. "When you changed, it made me... I thought I had to fight you."

Dustin hummed under his breath. "Once, when we were in the city, Mom and I ran into this lizard guy in the hospital. He turned out to be really nice, but when Mom first saw him, she woged out of fear and he woged back-- I think it was probably some kind of predator-prey instinct. Maybe it's like that?"

Steve felt a pit grow in his stomach. He didn't like the sound of that. "So, I'm like... A hunter?"

"Unless you think you're the only natural prey of the North American beaver, yeah," Dustin said.

Great, Steve thought, what a way to have every fucking bad thing anyone had ever thought about him confirmed in one fell swoop. Crossing his arms across his chest, he tried not to settle into a sulk. Pouting in front of the kid you were supposed to be a good influence for was embarrassing as hell, and probably even worse than being an instinct-driven murder machine. "Does that at least narrow it down?"

Dustin made an unsure noise in the back of his throat, kicking his feet back and forth as he thought. "I mean, kinda. It means you're definitely not anything my mother will let me within five feet of, but we pretty much already knew that. The problem is that, as far as I know, most of the Wesen world is pretty dangerous. Even some of the prey animals are killers."

"According to your mom," Steve said. He loved Claudia Henderson, he really did, but she thought her neighbor's Yorkie was two seconds from killing them all on a good day.

"According to my mom," Dustin agreed. "Look, let's just woge right now, and it'll confirm it."

"You don't think that triggering my 'predator instincts' on purpose will be a bad idea?" Steve asked, shrinking in on himself. If he hurt Dustin over some stupid science experiment, he'd have to go ahead and drown himself in the pool. And he genuinely didn't think Dustin could take the extra trauma on top of everything else.

"You'll be ready for it this time," Dustin said, and twisted around so they were face to face.

'Ready' turned out to be mostly erroneous. There was no countdown, no time to prepare-- Their eyes met and then Dustin was changing. The fur, the nose, the cleft lip. It was all as Steve remembered it, all exactly as he'd played over and over again in his mind. Steve braced himself, waiting for the same rush of adrenaline, for the same muscle-clenching urge to fight.

It never came.

One moment passed, then another. Steve forced himself to breathe. "I'm not feeling any rodent murdering tendencies," he admitted, although he couldn't quite convince his shoulders to relax.

"Well," Dustin said, his tiny beaver face peering into Steve's. "Your eyes definitely changed. They're... Huh."

"What?" Steve wanted to squirm under Dustin's gaze, uncomfortable with the very intense eye contact going on right now. Even though Dustin was looking at him, in his eyes, Steve didn't feel like he was being included in the interaction. If anything, it felt more like Dustin was watching something through him, and after all the multidimensional shit they'd been through, the last thing Steve wanted to think about was his eyes being a portal. "Come on, man, you're freaking me out."

"They're reflective," Dustin said, his voice faraway with thought.

"Yeah?" Steve said, confused. "So are everybody's."

"No, they're like mirrors. I can see myself completely. Every detail." Dustin's voice still sounded lost, and Steve swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat.

"That's weird," he said, eventually, when Dustin had proven that he had forgotten to even blink. "Um, can this part be over now? I'm not great at eye contact on a good day."

After a moment, Dustin shook himself, looking just as confused as Steve felt. "Yeah, sorry, man," he said, frowning down at his notepad. "I don't know what happened. Maybe your species is good at hypnosis? Some kind of snake, maybe?"

"Do I look like a fucking snake to you, Dustin?" Steve said, gesturing to his smooth skin and fluffy hair.

"No," Dustin admitted, "but we don't really have any proof your species has an animal counterpart, either. El doesn't. And before you say it--" Steve closed his mouth. "-- I'm not comparing you to El. I'm saying that whatever a Hexenbiest is supposed to be, I don't think it was originally like me. Maybe they're not the only ones."

Honestly, Steve hated the idea of his powers being anything like El's. To put it mildly, El's powers were fucking terrifying. Not the girl herself; It had been impossible to be afraid of El after Steve had gotten to know the sweet little girl that hid behind all that trauma. He adored her, really. But her powers? Steve genuinely didn't know how El slept at night, because if it were him with all that responsibility, he'd probably just have a heart attack. The more power someone had, the more opportunities they had to fuck up. Steve was proof of that. Having as much power as El was his worst nightmare. And if Dustin was right, that Steve might be something like her...

"We should tell Hop about this," Steve decided. Immediately, Dustin groaned.

"Come on, Steve! Hopper isn't going to let us dig into this and you know it!"

"Yeah, and maybe we shouldn't," Steve said. "I don't know anything about this shit, and my parents aren't talking. But if you're right, and I have the ability to hurt someone, then Hop needs to know about it."

Dustin's face softened. "You-- It's not like that, Steve. You wouldn't--"

"You don't know that." Steve was on his feet again, pacing the concrete that surrounded his pool. "We don't know anything, and you've seen what happens when El gets angry. And what happened to Will last year?"

"That wasn't Wesen related," Dustin tried to reason, but Steve was already shaking his head.

"That we know of," Steve said, "and I think we've proven that neither of us actually know a goddamn thing about this."

"... Fine. But I want it on the record that I think this is stupid, and you would never hurt anybody, Wesen or not."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Your complaint has been recorded, and will be going directly into the trash. Do you have your walkie on you?"

They went inside to collect Dustin's abandoned bag, his walkie still packed safely inside. They had given Hopper a Party-approved walkie the year before, when he decided that in case of emergency, relying on phones wasn't enough. Steve was pretty sure he'd given up on the Upside Down being a one-time thing, and making sure the kids weren't being eaten by monsters in the woods made everyone sleep better at night. They had a separate channel, though, for adult-included emergencies, because Hopper had threatened to arrest Mike for calling in a Code Orange over being out of toilet paper.

Steve hesitated over the dial, for a moment, and wondered if discovering you weren't human was a Code Yellow or Orange.

"It's not going to call itself," Dustin said, and Steve--

His eyes shut, all usual irritation at Dustin's annoyances drowned out by fear. Because he was so fucking afraid. Afraid of himself, yeah, but also a million other things. Like, how was he supposed to look Hopper in the eyes and admit what he was? Sure, Hop was okay with El, but El was a kid. His kid. Steve wasn't sure if he'd have taken the beaver thing half as well from anyone but Dustin. Wasn't sure he would now, even, and he was fucking one of them. Would Hop think he was a monster?

Even worse, would Hop believe him when Steve said he was something to be feared? Steve wasn't sure if he hoped Hop would, or if he dreaded it.

"Can you wait outside?" Steve asked, his voice shaking. He could already see Dustin gearing up for an epic bitch fit, so he quickly continued, "Just for a second. I swear, you can come with me. I can't do this shit without you, man."

The admission made Dustin quiet. With shock or with mollification, Steve didn't know, but whatever it inspired in Dustin was enough to have him nodding and walking out the door.

Steve turned the walkie to Hop's channel, and held the button down. "Chief, are you there?"

There was a moment of quiet, and Steve thought- hoped? -that Hopper didn't hear him, that he might be busy or at work or maybe he'd thrown the stupid thing in a drawer somewhere, but eventually the speaker crackled to life. The chief's voice poured out, "That you, Harrington?"

"Yeah," Steve said, the vowels coming out reedy in the tightness of his throat. "Yeah, it's me. Um... I got a... A Code Orange? Or maybe a Yellow."

"I can never remember that stupid fucking system," Hopper said, and on any other day, Steve would have laughed. "You okay, kid?"

Kid, Steve thought, his brain buzzing, when was the last time he'd been a kid?

"No," Steve said, answering the question truthfully for the first time in years. "No, I'm not."

There was a moment of static, and then, "You need me there?"

Steve wanted to say yes. Steve wanted to sit on the floor and wait for an adult to come by and take care of it. Steve wanted a dad who would come home and make everything go away. But that wasn't the truth, and it would scare Dustin, so Steve took a deep breath and acted like a fucking grown up for once. "I was thinking that Dustin and I could come by the cabin tonight, actually. There's something there I think we might need."

Hopper made a small, considering noise. "This about all that nastiness this fall?"

"Dustin doesn't think so," Steve said, glad to be able to report some good news for once. "It's more… personal. But, you know, you have a lot in the cabin that might have answers, so…"

There was a moment of dead air, and Steve wondered if Hop was weighing his affection for El against his need to protect Steve. Hopper was obviously more of a protective dad than Steve's dad had ever been, putting even Claudia Henderson to shame with his hovering abilities, and Steve… didn't begrudge El that. Really, he didn't. But there was a lump in his throat when he thought about Hopper leaving him to deal with this on his own. And he would, if it meant keeping his daughter out of trouble. Steve knew that without a moment's thought.

He wondered what it said about him that the knowledge made his chest ache. Nothing good, probably.

"Come on down," he said eventually, and something in Steve's chest unclenched. "You'll both stay for dinner."

"Sounds good," Steve said, although they both knew it hadn't been a question. "We should be there in about ten minutes."

"Yeah, I know where you live, boy," Hopper said with a snort, and then the line went quiet.

Despite himself, Steve smiled down at the walkie as he threw it haphazardly back into Dustin's bag. No matter what changed, at least Hop would always be the same. He was the same as a father figure as he was when he had been a stranger breaking up all Steve's best parties. It was a small comfort, to see someone strong enough to not let all the craziness of their lives change him– A comfort that Steve let wash over him in the silence of his kitchen, breathing deep.

Okay, game face on, he told himself. Keeping how badly this affected him from Dustin was hard enough, and he knew it would be near impossible in the face of El's observant gaze. He wasn't entirely sure how this would affect her, but keeping as calm as possible would stop her from freaking out, and that was always good for Steve's health.

He loved the kid but, Jesus, she was scary sometimes.

"So what's the game plan?" Dustin asked as they both climbed into the Beemer. "I mean, what are we going to tell him?"

"Stop trying to game the Chief," Steve said, with the air of an older troublemaker who had long since learned better. "It literally never works."

"So, what, we just go in there and tell the truth?" Dustin said. He sounded uncomfortable at the idea, which Steve kind of understood. He'd been the same at Dustin's age, always lying and keeping problems to himself for genuinely no good reason. He was still working hard to break the habit, obviously. He didn't know why he did it, though, and Dustin probably wasn't even aware of it yet– It was just a knee-jerk reaction, something Steve had learned after years of proof that telling the truth rarely got you anything but grounded.

"If we want Hop to help, he's gotta know what's going on," Steve said, with more confidence than he felt. Dustin argued for the entire drive, less because he disagreed, Steve was pretty sure, and more because it was easier than dwelling on the mystery. Sometimes your brain needed a break from the panic spiral of the unknown, and bugging the shit out of your best friend was the perfect solution, apparently.

Steve sighed in relief when he rounded the last corner and the cabin slid into view.

Hidden away in the depths of the same woods that abutted Steve's yard, Hopper's cabin was small and plain, unnoticeable from the main roads that cut through the town mere feet away. Steve wasn't sure how many people knew about the place, but those in the know rarely came by except by appointment. Even Joyce knew better than to roll up to Hopper's unannounced. If anything, such a bold move would be a sign that something had gone truly, terribly wrong.

There was always a bit of nerves just before Steve knocked on the cabin door. Every time, something in him was convinced he would be turned away. The confirmation beforehand didn't help the anxiety, and Steve was never sure why– Maybe it was the feeling of constantly intruding on El and Hopper's new family, or maybe it was just the fact that they both could kick Steve's ass, but the initial frisson of nerves never faded even after Steve had grown comfortable in their presence.

Hopper opened the door before he could knock, leaving Steve's hand hanging awkwardly in the air.

"This doesn't look like an emergency," Hopper said, voice gruff– But his gaze swept carefully over the both of them.

Steve opened his mouth to explain, or at least offer some kind of vague reassurance that would get them in the door, but Dustin beat him to the punch, as usual. "It's not really a human-type emergency."

Hopper's eyes snapped to Steve, surprise and suspicion mixing together in equal measure. "You said this wasn't about the lab."

Steve swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry under Hopper's gaze.

"Most Wesen aren't man-made," Dustin said, suddenly huffy with offense. Steve would probably be offended, too, if he'd had a lifetime to adjust to not being human. Seemed kind of rude to start assuming people were created in a lab. "Look, can we come in? If I have to re-explain my entire society to you, I at least want to do it sitting down."

To Steve's surprise, Hopper smiled down at Dustin and took a step back, shrugging. It wasn't exactly a grin, but it was there plain as day, small and fond. "Sure, come on in. El," Hopper said, raising his voice to shout across the cabin to his daughter. "Company's here!"

El's door swung open on cue, all the proof Steve needed that she'd known they were coming the whole time. The girl all but sprinted into the main room, nearly tackling Dustin in a hug. They looked almost like siblings, all brown curls and wide smiles, and El's delight at seeing Dustin was effusive. Despite the stress of the last two days, Steve found himself sharing Hopper's smile.

The kids chattered to each other, voices soft with delight, and Hopper made eye contact over their heads. "You hanging in there, Harrington?" It was the kindest way to say that he'd heard the panic in Steve's voice earlier, and embarrassment flooded through his veins. Steve appreciated the concern. Really, he did. But suddenly the shame of his own need to be cared for was overwhelming, and Steve had to fight the urge to back out of the house with a mumbled excuse.

He couldn't figure this out on his own. This wasn't going away.

Luckily, Hopper's voice had reminded El of their second guest, and she saved Steve from having to reply by pulling away from Dustin. "Steve!" she cooed, her voice still pure childhood.

She went in for a hug, her face tilting up to beam at him, and– As their eyes met, El's face shifted. The rapidly familiar ripple of a woge, leaving behind the twisted, pitted skin of her second face.

The black of her eyes burned like coals, and the intensity of them sung in Steve's veins as adrenaline shot through his blood. His hand, which had raised to pull El into a hug, shot towards Dustin, instead–

Every cell in his body thrummed with instinct. He needed to get the kid out of here, away from the danger. He needed to put himself in between, needed to fight.

Before his hand could even land on Dustin's back, his feet were off the floor.

Steve hit the cabin wall, the entire room rattling with the weight of El's power. He could hear Hopper and Dustin's voices, surprised and panicked, but their voices were lost in the ringing in his ears. He struggled in vain against El's invisible hold, rage mounting with every futile second.

The part of him that still held on to rationality, the part that made him Steve, struggled to calm his pounding heart. He knew El wouldn't hurt Dustin, knew El wasn't the threat his body said she was, but it took everything he had just to bite down on the feral scream building in his throat.

The strings of El's power were cut just as quickly as they were woven, and Steve slumped to the floor. There were hands on him, but he recognized them as Dustin's, and he let them hold him down.

"I'm… I'm sorry," El said, her voice small. Steve wanted to cry at the fear there, even as the furious parts of him settled in smugness.

He didn't look at her. He couldn't. Instead, Steve looked up at Hopper, pleading.

"Something's wrong with me," Steve said, voice shaking. "You have to help."

Hopper's face was grim, his mouth a flat line as he looked down at them. "You feel the Mindflayer on him?" he asked El, his eyes never leaving Steve.

El was quick to shake her head. "No, it's not like Will. It was… I think it was me."

"I already told you, it's not an Upside-Down thing! He's just a Wesen," Dustin said. His hands were shaking where he had them fisted in Steve's t-shirt. Steve leaned into them, feeling them steady against his ribs.

"Like us?" Some of the unease faded from El, excitement in her eyes.

"Not exactly," Steve said, still looking up at Hopper with guilty eyes.

Dustin turned to El, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of having someone who would entertain his nonsense for once. "You noticed his eyes, right? That's the only aspect of his woge. I've never seen anything like it, have you?"

El shook her head. "I've had woges forced before, but I–"

"Forced?" Hopper repeated, and Steve slumped further into himself.

"Steve didn't, though," El said, and her eyes drifted back to Steve. He didn't like the way her eyes went unfocused when he looked back, the same way Dustin had drifted into a haze earlier that day. "I was… afraid."

"A prey response," Steve said, glumly repeating what Dustin had theorized before.

"Not of you," El said gently, to Steve's surprise. "When your eyes went black, I could see myself in them. Not my body, but my…" Her face twisted in thought. "My self."

"I did, too," Dustin said, frowning. "And Steve said he had the same initial adrenaline response, but I didn't–"

"I didn't like what I saw," El said, her words clipped in the harsh, stilted way it had been when she was younger.

All four of them sat in the silence that followed for a moment. Steve wondered if they were also trying to ignore what Steve was: The things El had done that Dustin hadn't, the things she'd had no choice but to become. He wasn't sure what El had seen staring back at her, but Steve couldn't imagine having to actually face the worst of himself. And how did his pathetic little life even compare to the things El had survived?

Eventually, Hopper broke the silence. "I didn't see anything." The skepticism in his voice was palpable, but there was relief there, too.

"Humans wouldn't," Steve said, a terrible realization creeping up his spine. "We were wrong, Dustin. It's not a predator thing. I think it's…" He huffed, trying to think of some kind of comparison. "It's like those butterflies that make themselves look like owls. They're trying to fend other Wesen off. Whatever I am, it's afraid of being hunted."

"Alright, alright. This is–" Hopper rubbed a hand over his face, looking five years older than he had when Steve and Dustin had knocked on his door. "Start from the beginning. What exactly are we dealing with here?"

Dustin and Steve shared a look.

'You're the smart one,' Steve said with a shrug.

'You're the one with the freaky eyes,' Dustin said with an arched brow.

"Alright, so… It started after I picked Dustin up from school yesterday," Steve began. He ran them both through everything, even the parts that made him cringe. The first intense need to fight or escape in the face of Dustin's woge, the changes in his own reflection he couldn't replicate.

El listened politely, sending Steve small smiles when she noticed him looking her way. Her obvious happiness when he or Dustin included her in their discussion of Wesen almost made Steve feel guilty for hating this. He knew isolation, both real and metaphorical, was the hardest part of El's slow integration into society, and having more Wesen around was probably a dream come true, but– Steve wasn't that guy. He didn't know a damn thing about being Wesen. He was just… human with a condition.

Besides, whatever levity El brought to the situation, Hopper was apparently determined to stomp out. His face was that of a man facing down a firing squad, one who was fucking pissed about it, besides. When Dustin mentioned Steve's parents, he practically went apoplectic, turning away as his face went redder and redder.

Whatever the fuck that was about.

"So we decided we should come to you," Steve said, gesturing, "because you would know what to do about… me."

Hopper's face didn't get any less angry. El, who had apparently just noticed her father's countenance, looked between them with wide eyes.

"What to do about you," Hopper repeated, voice flat.

"Yeah," Steve said, nodding. "Like you did with Will."

El and Dustin both flinched, but Hopper was made of stone. Nothing but long, uncomfortable eye contact from him. "I don't think there's anything to be done here, kid," Hopper said.

Steve couldn't suppress the full-body reaction to that, scrambling to his feet. Adrenaline was hitting him again, sending his already exhausted heart into paroxysms, but now it was true fear. Not of some imagined enemy, but of himself. "I can't just be around people like this, Hop," he said through gritted teeth.

"You're around people now."

"That's my fucking point! I have like four fucking friends in the entire world, and two of them turned out to be the exact kind of people that I'm a danger to. The only reason El isn't hurt is because she can kick my ass," Steve pushed a hand through his hair, feeling it stick up at the ends from leftover hairspray. He didn't care. He wanted to pull it out by the fucking roots. "What if I go to the grocery store and meet a Wesen in the fucking dairy aisle, Hop? What about the next time I see Mrs. Henderson?"

"You didn't want to hurt El," Hopper said, his voice calm but his face still marred by anger. "You were reaching for Dustin. You wanted to protect him."

"You can't know that for sure. I can't– I can't control myself when I'm like that," Steve said. "It took literally everything I had not to hurt my own fucking kid."

"Me?" Dustin squeaked.

"You can. I know what someone out of control looks like, Harrington. You aren't it."

"Why can't you just fucking help me?" Steve said, his voice going reedy with desperation.

Hopper sneered. "I'm not going to help you punish yourself for something you haven't even done yet."

"I think maybe we should go outside," El said, and Dustin nodded eagerly. They both scurried outside like they were being chased.

"Stay where I can see you!" Hopper bellowed after them. Steve blinked back tears, shaking in the silence the kids left behind. Hopper took a deep breath. "Look, kid…"

"I don't get why you won't help," Steve said, his eyes falling to the floor. "It's not punishment when it's El. Why can't you–"

"El could control herself," Hopper said. "She just didn't know that she needed to. She's still learning how to be a person, Steve. She's just a kid."

"Right, right. Sorry," Steve rubbed at his nose, willing his tears away. "I'm sorry I bothered you, I–"

"That's not…" Hopper sighed, grabbing one of Steve's shoulders in one big hand. "What I'm saying is that you're already a good kid. I don't have to worry about you getting yourself or somebody else hurt."

"I get myself and other people hurt literally all the time."

Hopper rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. You're not going to hurt the kids, and I don't believe you're going to start attacking randoms in the street. You're still you."

"But…" Steve swallowed around a dry throat. He didn't know how to make Hopper understand, didn't know how to make him care. He'd never been very good at that. Half of his life, Steve had been begging people to care. None of it had ever worked. "Alright. I get it."

Hopper nodded, looking relieved. "Just go home, Harrington. Lay low for a little while. Get used to the new instincts." Steve still wanted to protest, but he agreed. "Good. Let's get outside, before those kids start some trouble."

Steve followed Hopper out the cabin door, head held low. Dustin and El were waiting for them on the porch, sitting on the edge with their knees pulled up to his chest. They weren't talking, just watching the door with their bright, expectant faces.

"It'll be fine," Hopper told them, voice calmer than it had been inside. The kids deserved that, Steve told himself. "Steve's got this."

"Yup," Steve said, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. "It's all under control."

El darted forward, throwing her arms around Steve's chest and clinging. Steve tried not to meet anyone's eyes over her head and hugged her back just as hard.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered, heart twinging in his chest. Not much scared El, and now he was on the list. What did that say about him?

Squeezing even harder, El shook her head, rubbing her face against his chest. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault," she said. It sounded like she was mimicking someone, and Steve wondered if Hopper had done that for her. If she'd been held close and told everything would be okay.

Swallowing around his jealousy, Steve held on until El stepped back and smiled up at him. "You'll have to give me some tips on how to do this Wesen thing," Steve said. "Dustin's terrible at it."

She smiled up at him. "We'll learn together."

Dinner was a simple affair. Hopper hadn't let Steve help at all, so he had sat on the couch and watched Dustin and El play card games until spaghetti was on the table. The kids were loud and chaotic, thrilled to be around each other again, and it didn't matter that Steve only talked when someone asked him a question. Somehow, he made it through the meal, even when every bite churned in his stomach.

Even when Dustin kept sending him little looks of concern, always too perceptive for his own good.

They said their goodbyes quickly, even when El begged them to stay. Hopper, laughing, had told her they couldn't stay forever, and waved them out of the cabin and into the car.

When Steve pulled into the Henderson's driveway, Dustin hesitated before opening the door.

"So, I've been thinking," Dustin said, "and I don't think I should go to Camp Know-Where this year."

Immediately, Steve knew he had fucked up. Dustin had talked about little else since the spring semester had started. No matter what problem he'd had, whether it was bullies or how boring his classes were, Dustin had changed the subject to how good this summer was going to be. And Steve got it. Really, he did. If he'd grown up in a town where no one cared about sports and bullied him for liking basketball, he'd be fucking stoked to spend some time with people who understood him, too.

But now Steve had ruined that for him, too.

"Absolutely not."

"I can't just…" Dustin looked distressed, and Steve was all the more determined to send the little shit to camp himself. "What if something happens while you're away?"

"What's gonna happen?" Steve said, even as his brain played a horror film of all the things he could do without Dustin as a buffer for the rest of the world. He tried to borrow a little of Hopper's confidence. "I just have to get a handle on my instincts, that's all."

"I don't think sitting in your house alone all summer–" Dustin started, but Steve cut him off, slicing his hand through the air.

"You're going to your shitty little nerd camp, Dustin, and that is final." Before Dustin could protest again, Steve continued, "I have to get a job this summer anyway, remember? Official Bradley Harrington decree. Even if you stayed home, we wouldn't be able to hang out all day. You can't, like, come to work with me."

Dustin didn't look convinced. "What if something happens?"

Honestly, Steve didn't know, either. "You know, I'll call…" Who? The last thing Steve wanted was to disappoint Hopper, so he and El were out. The kids were too young to help with this shit, anyway, and Steve didn't really know many other people. That only left… "I'll call Jonathan or Nancy, okay?"

"You're really gonna call your ex-girlfriend and tell her you went insane and beat the shit out of somebody?"

Steve sighed. "If I say yes, will you go to camp?"

Dustin nodded. "Honestly, I kind of hope you fuck up, now."

Closing his eyes, Steve responded: "Get the fuck out of my car, Henderson."

The rest of the spring went smoothly. Steve kept to himself at school; He had already descended into minor loserdom after everything with Billy, so it was a piece of cake to stop making eye contact with anyone he wasn't completely sure was human. Graduation came and went with little fanfare. He skipped the ceremony, and made up some shitty excuse about a vacation with his parents.

He and the kids ate pizza and watched movies all night. Steve pretended not to see the pity in Nancy's eyes when she picked up Mike and Will the next morning. He waved politely at Jonathan and closed the door.

A few weeks later, Dustin left for camp.

He started work that same week, and Steve was grateful for the distraction. Orientation was a quick affair, the manager running him through health and safety protocol and quizzing him on customer service. Steve wore his best mask the whole time, smiling at all the right times, frowning thoughtfully when he was supposed to.

"Let me introduce you to your coworker," the manager said, and led Steve into the back room. A girl sat at the table there. She was wearing the same awful uniform that Steve currently held in his hands, but Steve could still see the nerdom radiating off her. Something about the hair and the tacky thrift-store jewelry. This wasn't one of 'his' crowd, and Steve breathed a little easier for it. "Steve, this is Robin Buckley. Rob–"

"I know who he is," Robin said, and raised her head.

The woge rippled across her face, revealing fur and piercing golden eyes.

[Next Chapter]

#my fic #monster hunting and werewolves and such #but it's slow burn #steddie #steve harrington #super steve centric #also autistic steve imo #uh yeah das it #only I must wander

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canirove · 3 months

Text

My neighbour Rúben | Chapter 4

Author's note: On this chapter there are some things that give away that this story was written a long time ago, like the fact that it says that he is City's captain... Or that he dresses well 😅 P.S. I'm joking, please no one get mad at me 😭

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"Did you sleep well, darling? You look tired" grandma asked me the morning after the game.

"It probably was all the excitement from yesterday. She was still buzzing like young people say" grandad laughed.

"I think it was a mix of not being on my own bed and getting out of my comfort zone. I'm not used to it."

Which was a lie. Mostly. I did miss my own bed, the one at my grandparents' house had the worst pillow ever. But if I looked dead and tired, it was because I had stayed up until 2 am reading about Rúben, watching his videos and looking at his photos.

Some would call it stalking. I call it doing research.

I read about his career, watched proper interviews and other videos where he was being silly, finding myself smiling like the idiot I am. I even watched some in Portuguese, the fact that I speak Spanish being very helpful to understand what he was saying. Or at least half of it.

I spent an hour just on his Instagram account, looking at everything he had posted, and especially the posts where he was topless. Like... He couldn't be real. He couldn't have a body like that, it had to be Photoshop. And it wasn't just the abs and the biceps. It also was his back. His legs. Everything. And judging by the photos where he was wearing clothes and the couple of times I had met him, he also knew how to dress and make the most out of that perfect body of his, which was unfair for the rest of the human population, both male and female.

I also spent a lot of time reading fanfic about him. There are so many talented people out there! And horny, which made me feel less alone. Because my dreams... Well. They were similar to the ones I had been having since meeting him for the first time, but now I knew what was under his clothes, and they weren't happening just on the lift or Lucy's house. Now that I knew that he was a freaking professional football player, there were so many new scenarios to explore... And I explored a few last night, like the changing room at the Emirates.

"Darling, are you sure you are alright? Should I take you to the doctor?" grandad said, bringing me back to reality.

"To the doctor? Why?"

"You look... I don't know. Off. And look at your cheeks."

"My cheeks?" I said, touching them. They were feeling very warm.

"Let me take your temperature" grandma said. "I don't want you traveling alone back to Manchester with a fever."

Oh, if only she knew.

I wasn't traveling back to Manchester with a fever. I was actually traveling back to Manchester to meet the cause of my fever. And just the thought of it was making my stomach do funny things, not sure if good or bad ones.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Oh, c'mon!" I said when the shopping bag slipped from my hand as I reached to call for the lift, all its contents slipping on the floor.

"Let me help you with that" a male voice said behind me. No. Not just a male voice. The male voice. Rúben.

"You don't need to, I can manage."

"And I want to help" he said, already picking some things from the floor. "Doesn't Lucy have someone to do the shopping for her?"

"Yes, but that's the weekly shopping. This is different."

"I can tell. I don't see Lucy letting Julia eat so much chocolate and sweets" he chuckled.

"Tonight we are having a movie night, that's why I bought all this. I'm not planning on feeding her just sugar for the whole weekend, I'm not crazy."

"Good to know" Rúben smiled. "What movie are you watching?" he asked while calling for the lift, the shopping bag on his hand.

"Not sure yet. Something from Disney I guess."

"What's your favourite Disney movie?"

"What?"

"Mine is "Aladdin". Love the songs" he said, walking into the lift once the doors had opened.

"I'm not sure about mine" I said, following him. "As a child I loved watching the "Swan Princess", but that isn't Disney."

"I think I've never heard of it before. Is it cartoons?"

"Yep. It is about a princess who is under a spell that turns her into a swan during the day, and at night she goes back into her human self but only if she is on a certain lake and when the moon is shining."

"Do they sing?"

"Oh, yes, they do. They have great songs."

"I'll have to check it out."

"What?" I laughed.

"Don't tell anyone, but I love watching kids' movies."

"Worried your teammates may bully you?" I chuckled as the lift's doors opened at our floor.

"Nah, they already know. By the way, the Emirates was the last place where I expected to see you" Rúben said, walking towards my door.

"Same."

"Lucy hadn't told you?"

"We've never talked about you." Which is true. But mainly because I knew my face would give away that I am very attracted to Rúben. Like, a lot.

"Now that you know... What do you think about it?"

"I don't know" I said, opening the apartment’s door. "It's just a job. A special one, but a job."

"Your opinion about me hasn't changed then?" he asked, following me inside and into the kitchen.

"Why would I change my mind?"

"You know what they say about football players. Just a bunch of idiots that kick a ball, who earn way too much money, who just party and cheat on their wives... Those things."

"I don't know enough about you to judge."

"Then we must do something about that" he said, leaving the shopping bag on the table. "Do you think Julia would mind if I joined you on your movie night?"

"I'm sorry, you want what?"

"It'll be a way to get to know each other a bit better. And I don't have plans tonight, so watching a Disney movie in good company sounds great."

I don't know what happened after that, what I said or did. Probably that yes, that he could come, because I remembered his smile and a "see you tonight." But my brain was stuck on his previous two last sentences.

For some reason, he wanted to get to know me better. Me. And I apparently was good company? He could have said it just about Julia, he clearly adored her. But he wasn't talking about her. We weren't talking about her. So... It was about me, right? I was good company. Did that mean that he was flirting with me? Rúben Dias, Manchester City captain and international player with Portugal, was flirting with me? The piano teacher turned into nanny?

It had been years since a guy had tried to flirt with me, I was very rusty. So maybe he was just being nice and I understood everything wrong. Or maybe not.

Whatever it was, I would be finding out in just a few hours...

#ruben dias #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 8 months

Note

I had coffee my thoughts are all over the place it's not gonna make sense and I'm probably gonna change my mind about some of the things I said later but here's my ramble.

I'm so mad right now. There's so many things that piss me off with Peter B. I keep thinking about all the mess he keeps pulling throughout the first and the second movie. The fact that he betrayed Miles not once but twice BUT THREE TIMES (typing Miles up in ITSV, not telling him about the Spider Society or that he was an anomaly, CALLING HQ ON HIM BECAUSE HE WANTED TO SAVE HIS FATHER. Technically that's 4 but moving on.)

He refuses to acknowledge Miles as a fellow spider(which is probably why he didn't feel bad about finding Miles was an anomaly now he has a reason to not take Miles seriously.) And he keeps trying to insert himself into a mentor role when he's yet to do a whole lot of mentoring. What also throws me here is how he had the audacity to say the trauma builds character while being a mentor to help guide Miles into becoming Spiderman so Miles' could avoid the mistakes that Peter made.

I WILL NEVER BE OVER THAT CHAIR SCENE IN ITSV. How is it you as a grown man. A grown white man no less took a black teenage boy who you viewed as so much of a liability that you had to tie him up. And I know multiple people have talked about everything that's wrong with this scene but there's still something so haunting about watching him just nonchalantly be tied up kicking and screaming about how he wants to be let go that bothers me so much. And I find it hard to believe that this was just a scene we're supposed to just move on from. Did they do this on purpose? Was this supposed to showcase something about Peter's character that I'm not picking up on? Because I find it so hard to believe that the writers who made sure to explicitly show how Gwen's Peter is Christian because he later turns into a lizard wouldn't understand the implications of this scene.

I also don't think he's a strategic as he thinks he is. What do you think was going to happen when you forcefully tied this boy to a chair? You thought he was going to sit still? Also would you think the boy who's trying to save his father was going to do? Actually listen to your words? Sit back and be like, oh you're right I should just let my father die. (This is me going off my reasoning that he didn't plan out that one scene in ATSV. I think that he thought that because he's Miles' "mentor" he could get through to him in a way others can't. Which pretentious much?) His actions do more harm than good and it just works out for him somehow. (For instance Miles saving them in ITSV because he came late.)

These are my thoughts do with this what you will. All the stars decided to align today ig because I haven't been able to come up with coherent thoughts like this in a minute.

(I really need to rewatch itsv. So if there's anything here that I'm wrong about regarding itsv it's been like 5 years since I've seen it.)

I GET THISS SOOO HARD (I waited until I had coffee to answer this lol)

BUT YESSSSS Because like I can understanding giving Peter the benefit of the doubt, it makes plausible sense for a movie to have a certain amount of wiggle room plot wise.

But with writers who clearly understood punk enough to accurately show it in Hobie's arc, repeatedly put in the work to respect Cockney and Puerto Rican culture, who wrote every one of Hobie's lines with PERCISION - would just overlook the glaring hole in their story that is Peter.

Because we as a viewer are continually told we SHOULD look up to him and we SHOULD trust him - but in doing so they accidentally make him the exact opposite. Like.. It doesn't make sense to me.

The Focus on Jess & The Absence of Peter:

aka GODDAMN I hate Peter B. Parker [yet another rant about 'bad' writing, plotholes, and Peter not showing up for Miles or Gwen.

For example,

Jess is Gwen's mentor, and we see her mentor style is extremely different from Peter's and that's suppose to be a contrasting dynamic between them and the relationship between Miles and Peter. Okay, makes sense.

But by NOT having Peter be Gwen's mentor, the writers are implying that he didn't step up as an emotional mentor when all this given - HE SHOULD. Because he's the only adult that she knows, and she a freshly homeless teen who needs to be around people she trusts, rather than working at a society with an auditorium of adults.

But by trying to show off how much we should judge Jess, the writers have inadvertently given us a Peter who just..didn't take responsibility. That's what they're implying - that Hobie and Jess were the ones who came to get aid. And we're suppose to look the other way. I... can't do that, sir.

"Look at how mean Jess is, why not blame her-" Jess is doing her job. Where's the adult she actually knows and trusts. Can we get some dialogue about what he did for her? Or did he just do nothing?

Did they just forget to include that, or did Peter just forget to help?

For me, that's two points in the bucket. Not housing Gwen, and not being her mentor. He could've done one, the other or both.

But because he didn't, we're left asking "What WAS he doing in the Society?"

Missions, I assume. Cause he wasn't mentoring her, so he must have been off putting in legit work for Miguel, I assume.

If we're looking at the characters as full-rounded - which I would hope they are considering the depth of Gwen, Miles and Hobie, it's not a large jump to ask 'How involved was Peter in Gwen's time at the Society? Why is he not her mentor, or why is she not living with him?"

Gwen..should be staying with him. If you're an adult who knows a teen and they become homeless, and it is within your means - yeah, I do think it's a moral obligation to open your home to them, at least temporarily. If you care about them. But that aside, let's extend the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Gwen didn't want to see him.

But then the ratting Miles out thing. This, I can't get around-

Some may say that it was simply for plot development and that Lyla spoke suddenly as a mistake on her part.

And I gotta call bullshit.

Firstly, because this is the same movie where we're shown Hobie stealing parts prior to learning what the parts are for. The same film that literally animated a fight accurately to Bushwick down to the very street. Let's cut it some slack here.

And moreso - I could understand the justification that it was a mistake on Lyla's part.

If Lyla was human. She's not.

She's an AI, and a very sophisticated one at that. Lyla runs on protocol, because that's AI's do. She's made to do things the way that is mathematically most effective, based on her analysis and her code.

It's easy to see Lyla as just an avatar, and a comedic one at that - but Lyla is literally one of - if not the - smartest 'person' in the multiverse. She's the only one who can track Spot in real time. If Jess and Miguel need aid on a mission or with Spot, they call Lyla. And she's handled every Society mission prior to the chase.

Her speaking out of turn suddenly and giving Peter away is an understandable plot mistake, if she was subjected to human mistakes.

So far, Lyla isn't. It doesn't make sense, based on what Lyla is.

I think Lyla would know better than to give Peter away suddenly by detecting Miles' presence and still speaking out loud.

A lot ask 'What motive does Peter have for ratting Miles out?', but we also should also ask "What motive does Lyla have for ratting herself out?'

It's her goal to find Miles no matter what. She doesn't care, she kinda can't - she's an AI. She just has to find him and send Miles' location to Miguel. Her objective.

So her locating Peter without his knowledge and then giving herself away to him doesn't make sense - especially if Lyla knew Miles was that close, from a human standpoint and definitely from the standpoint of the most sophisticated AI in existence.

So I was under the assumption that - like you mentioned now, that before when he gets Miles alone, he may genuinely be trying to convince him still, but by the time they get into that space, I think that's around the time that it becomes a 'Okay, let's just get Miles back to HQ and talk about this' situation.

He genuinely ratted Miles out. In my eyes.

Because at this point, Miguel hasn't assaulted Miles. That comes later. So realistically speaking, his goal was probably to calm Miles down, and get him back to HQ however he could, and talk to him there.

Peter could've helped WAYYYY earlier.

People give Peter credit like 'Oh but he came over to Miles' side at the end-'

NO. YOU DO NOT GET A COOKIE.

Peter could've helped SO much earlier, and if anything, he was THE ONLY ONE in a position of helping.

Gwen can't do anything, like they physically restrain her when she tries to. And there's no point after they come to HQ that Gwen has the chance to turn around and help Peter.

Gwen doesn't get that chance. Peter DOES.

Had Peter helped Miles HERE, IMMEDIATELY, Miles would've gotten away without being assaulted by Peter.

If Peter had turned around and changed course in this moment, Miles would have been better off.

Fuck Peter B. Fuckkkkk hiiiimmmmm. NAWWWWWW

If Peter had let him go here, or helped him escape - Miles wouldn't have been taking hits up on that train. That's crazzzy.

But he wasn't trying to help Miles escape. If he wanted to, he would've. He could've just said "Matter of fact Miles, I think setting the WHOLE Society on you is a bizarre move and you should probably get out of here until Miguel can calm down and I can talk to him."

But he was like 'Nah, hold my baby. Matter of fact lemme tell you story in this pivotal moment when you're actively in danger. Here, look at me. What do you mean - I'm not stalling? I didn't rat him out on purpose.

Like either you did. And even if you didn't you didn't help him when you were literally the only person in the universe who could. In fact, he got away slower because of you. Lovely.

Peter is a grown man. He's not an idiot.

He knows Miles is in active danger. Why would an adult turn the conversation in that direction - about his baby - KNOWING Miles has no time.

As soon as Miles got his hands on MayDay, Peter is trying to change the conversation. Suddenly he's joking and laughing.

Even though Miles is freaking out. Why is Peter joking? He knows this isn't a joking situation. But here he is wasting Miles time, either accidentally or intentionally.

Because that'd be some good ass stalling.

There was nothing stopping Peter from helping him leave. But Peter was still on The Society's side, so he didn't. If he was on Miles' side, he would've helped him. He should've, but he was still for Miguel, because at this point Miguel hadn't assaulted Peter yet.

Congrats, Peter. Big L. Humbling Reality Spider-man everyone.

Like combine all this. AND THEN THE SCENE IN ITSV.

LITERALLY AND PHYSICALLY PETER IS ALWAYS HOLDING MILES BACK.

You cannot expect me to believe that the writers of a movie I can write 10k+ words about, just so happened to leave these two glaring plot holes for ONE character.

That I'm just suppose to ignore that Peter restrained Miles, a black boy, in ITSV. That he betrayed Miles for months, wasn't very active in Gwen's time at the Society, and he actively hinders Miles escape - if not actively ratting him out.

It baffles my mind.

It doesn't make sense, that these writers can write Hobie, Jessica, Miguel, Officer Stacy, Rio, and Jeff as fully rounded, well-thought characters. But for some reason, when it comes SPECIFICALLY to Peter B. - they just forget how to write. They just stop thinking about him the second they don't look at him.

IN BOTH MOVIES?

I don't buy it.

To have every other character be thoroughly thought through but have one of, if not these most iconic character full of plot holes...

I think the likely answer is they wrote him that way on purpose and he's just a bad person.

I'm sorry, and I'm laughing while writing this but like.

Either Peter is the ONE singular character who has a series of emotional plotholes - or he's just a bad mentor. It's one or the other. And it's open to interpretation.

But I wanna cut the writers some slack and say, No - they thought it through. And No, Lyla did not just randomly speak out of turn, he contacted her first off-screen before she replied to him.

And by waiting till the very end to come around, waiting until the person who looks up to you is deeply wounded to finally turn around - that's the same arc Officer Stacy goes through.

And we're not supposed to clap for him. It's lovely, but he doesn't get an award. And neither does Peter, not at all.

Maybe if had helped Miles escape in that moment. Maybe if he was Gwen's mentor or he housed her.

But as far as we know he spent those months of Gwen in the Society doing fuck all. We've seen no sign of his contribution anywhere.

And in a story about mentorship, that says something.

Anyway. This is long. Again fiosfgihrgirturetuier I'm SORRY

Once again, Fuck Peter B. All my Hobies hate Peter B. (not a typo)

He's worse than Jess.

And he's not worse than Miguel but I like Miguel more and it's not because of the ass that's just a bonus Miguel is cool (but also very wrong. but like personality wise we're cool).

Ummm I feel like I got off track here. Oh well!!

Damn he be doing Miles dirty. SMH

Bye.

#Gwen Stacy #Peter Parker #Jessica Drew #Miles Morales #Miguel O'hara #miguel o hara #spiderman #atsv #marvel #spider man #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #atsv analysis #peter B Parker #no proofread

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drarrily-we-row-along · 1 year

Text

cw: mentions (off screen) child neglect/abuse

"Don't," Harry said without looking up, words coming out muffled against the sleeve of his jumper. He shouldn't have been surprised that Draco found him here, sitting at the end of the pier, knees against his chest as he stared out over the lake.

Draco sat down next to him, heat radiating from his body, "I haven't even said anything yet," he said, feet dangling over the edge.

He shook his head, he could feel Draco's eyes on him but would be damned if he looked over at him. Every thought, every feeling would be written on his face. It hadn't always been that way but at some point Harry's body had decided he was safe with the other man and refused to mask his emotions anymore. "I don't want it."

"Don't want what?" Draco asked and Harry knew that he was just trying to get him to say the words.

The temptation to look over just to glare at him in response was strong. He didn't want his kindness, his gentleness, didn't want his words telling Harry that he was good, that he was enough. Those were the words Draco always gave him when things like this happened and Harry burned with hatred for them. For himself. "Don't," he managed, voice low and wounded, dangerous.

For a moment Draco didn't say anything, didn't do anything apart from looking at Harry like he thought that staring at him would make Harry look back. The silence couldn't last, unfortunately, "It's not your fault," he said, looking out over the lake. "And self-flagellating doesn't actually fix anything."

He looked over at Draco, "Sitting here is not about fixing things," he replied, voice scathing. "A child is actively living through trauma, Draco," he said because maybe that reminder would awaken something in him, would make him feel the same burning, agonizing resentment that was consuming Harry.

"I know," Draco said calmly.

"And they're going to send her back to them!" he roared, chest heaving. "She is living in a home where the adults demonstrate with their words and their actions that she doesn't matter." He shook his head, "She's eleven and she said that she was glad that she was here so that she didn't have to be such a burden on her family. How it would probably be easier for them and they'd be happier if she just didn't exist. What the fuck?!" he shouted, beyond frustrated, beyond any hope that there was anything he could do to make this world any less fucked up.

Draco rested a hand on his shoulder but Harry shrugged him off.

"Don't fucking touch me," he spit.

Draco said nothing and Harry recoiled from himself, he didn't want to hurt the other man, didn't want to slice him open the way that Harry was feeling torn to shreds.

"I can't. I told you not to push," Harry said, "I fucking told you to leave me alone."

"Harry," Draco said softly, "I'm not going anywhere."

"You should be!" He stood and paced away from the other man, still not looking at him, he couldn't bear to. He already knew what Draco's face would be doing, knew the soft set of his mouth, the wrinkle between his eyebrows, the way his eyes would say all of the words that Harry couldn't bear to hear. "I'm not in a good place right now."

"I know that," Draco replied steadily, "I'm not going anywhere."

"And when I just keep shouting at you? Pushing you away? What then?"

He hummed, "You're not actually mad at me. You're mad, and rightfully so," he said emphatically, "I'm mad, too. Your anger is right, and just, and good," he said. "And I am more than happy to bear witness to it. I want to bear witness to you, to your anger and your grief, to your guilt and shame. I want to see you."

"I don't want you to," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't want you to see me. I want to be kind to you, good to you," he said. "I want to treat you with gentleness and care, and I can't do that when I feel like this."

Draco looked over his shoulder at where Harry was standing and their eyes met. It shot straight through Harry and all of the emotions that he'd been holding back, trying to rationalize, trying to tamp down, came rushing to the surface.

"I don't want to," he said, shaking his head, eyes stinging with grief, rage hot in his chest, both things making it nearly impossible to draw a deep enough breath. "I don't want you to see it."

"I know," Draco murmured. "Thanks for letting me anyway."

He shook his head, "It's not fair," he murmured, defeated.

"No, it's not," Draco agreed. "None of this is fair."

"You didn't see her face," he whispered. "You didn't see her eyes or hear the way that she talked," he scrubbed his hands over his face. "My whole fucking heart just-" he gasped out, trying to articulate the way his entire heart had shattered into a thousand piece that he didn't think he'd ever be able to put back together, but not even able to complete his sentence.

"Thank you," Draco said.

"For what?" he asked incredulously, because nothing he'd done had done any good. Talking to Minerva, talking to the child protective services in the muggle community she was from, none of it mattered. There weren't any visible marks of abuse, they weren't going to do anything.

Draco gave him a sad little smile and it twisted the knife even deeper into Harry's heart. "For coming to work today," he said softly. "For seeing our students, and loving our students, and being a safe space for them-"

"It doesn't matter!" he exclaimed. "Don't you see?" he asked. "Fuck. There's nothing I can do. Nothing is going to change for her-"

"Everything has changed for her-"

"How?" he exploded. "She's still going to have to go back there when school ends in four weeks. She's going to spend the summer pretending that she doesn't exist, wishing that she didn't exist."

He stood up and took Harry's face in his hands so that Harry made eye contact. "Having someone listen, having someone see you, it changes everything. You're right, the system is fucked up, everything about this is awful. But what you did for her, it matters. You listening matters."

"It's not enough," he said, closing his eyes as the tears spilled down his cheeks. "It's not."

"It's not," Draco agreed and that last bit standing in Harry's heart shattered, the last vestige of hope completely snuffed out. "But you are."

He huffed a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob.

"You, being you is enough. It's not going to fix everything," he agreed. "It isn't. But it doesn't mean that you aren't enough."

"I don't feel like enough," he whispered, the words like knives as they left his throat. "I just feel like I fail them over, and over, and over again."

"You're not."

"I feel like I've got nothing to give them," he confessed, "like what's the point of teaching them defense against the dark arts when it's not monsters and evil wizards that they're fighting? It's the adults who treat them like they're nothing, it their own fucking learned behaviors, and trauma, and thought patterns that they're going to fight the rest of their lives. What's the point?"

Draco was quiet for a heartbeat and Harry opened his eyes to look at him. "You don't treat them like they're nothing."

"Of course I don't," he replied, so offended by the mere suggestion that he could ever-

"It's enough. You are enough," he repeated. "They need you to be you," he said softly, "that's it. They just need you to see them and hear them. It's enough."

"It doesn't feel like it," he said, more tears spilling out without his consent.

He nodded wrapping his arms lightly around Harry's waist, giving him the freedom to pull away if he wanted to. "I know," he said softly.

And Harry collapsed against him, body resting heavily against Draco's. "I can't do it," he whispered, all gaping, aching weakness.

"You're not alone," Draco said softly, kissing his temple. "You don't have to do it alone."

"Promise?"

Draco nodded, "I promise love. I'm not going anywhere."

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

Read more of my fics

#drarry #love #soft #tenderness #professor harry #professor draco #hogwarts professors #mentions off screen child neglect #trauma dump #the fucking cps sucks ass and i'm having a lot of feelings #listen. it's been a really fucking hard day to be a teacher #this one feels a little too real- might delete this later #i am going to therapy. i am okay.#part of the unofficial trauma series

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morlock-holmes · 8 months

Text

The real reason that nonviolence is considered to be a virtue in Negroes—I am not speaking now of its racial value, another matter altogether— is that white men do not want their lives, their self-image, or their property threatened. One wishes they would say so more often. At the end of a television program on which Malcom X and I both appeared, Malcolm was stopped by a white member of the audience who said, “I have a thousand dollars and an acre of land. What’s going to happen to me?” I admired the directness of the man’s question, but I didn’t hear Malcolm’s reply, because I was trying to explain to someone else that the situation of the Irish a hundred years ago and the situation of the Negro today cannot very usefully be compared. Negroes were brought here in chains long before the Irish ever thought of leaving Ireland; what manner of consolation is it to be told that emigrants arriving here—voluntarily—long after you did have risen far above you? In the hall, as I was waiting for the elevator, someone shook my hand and said, “Goodbye, Mr. James Baldwin. We'll soon be addressing you as Mr. James X.” And I thought, for an awful moment, My God, if this goes on much longer, you probably will.

James Baldwin - The Fire Next TIme

Man, man I followed a chain of links and found that paper, "Decolonization is not a metaphor" and I read like three quarters of the dang thing before I realized that we all already got mad at it because it is morally insane.

This is less about the idea of a literal mass expropriation of land, and therefore wealth, from the current owners in the US, which A) is not going to happen any time soon (Land acknowledgements are acknowledging that you ain't giving the damn land back to anybody); and B) if you tell me that the land I live in will be given to the local indigenous people my first question is,

"So will they be raising the rent as much as the previous owners did?"

What's morally insane is... Okay, no, I object to the idea that the question is irrelevent, although the authors of the paper do say fairly explicitly that it is wholly irrelevant.

What I find morally insane about the paper is not the idea that the authors wish to ignore my feelings on the matter, but the very strong suggestion that I should train myself not to have an opinion on the matter.

I linked the paper up there, I don't want to summarize too much, but essentially, it posits a triad of indiginous person/settler/slave, which in the US context maps more or less onto Native American/white/black.

Indigenous peoples are those who have creation stories, not colonization stories, about how we/they came to be in a particular place - indeed how we/they came to be a place. Our/their relationships to land comprise our/their epistemologies, ontologies, and cosmologies. For the settlers, Indigenous peoples are in the way and, in the destruction of Indigenous peoples, Indigenous communities, and over time and through law and policy, Indigenous peoples’ claims to land under settler regimes, land is recast as property and as a resource.

Settler, in this paper, is not meant very literally. The settlement of the US involved not just the theft of land specifically, but the creation of certain narratives about who has rights to use land and in what way. My ancestors in this country go back hundreds of years but they are, to our best knowledge, legally white, and I am therefore a settler in the sense of having a certain relationship to certain racial and conceptual categories.

Don't get me wrong: the history of this country makes at least certain versions of that idea very plausible.

So what am I supposed to do with that?

If I take the authors of this paper morally seriously, (And once I took similar views very seriously, in some ways I still do) where does that put me?

Settlers in a country like the US do not and cannot have a creation story about how we came to be in a certain place. That I am a settler in the US very much does not make me somehow indigenous to Brittany where many of my ancestors come from; I do not have a story of how my people came to be in Brittany or Great Brittain any more than I have one for how we came to be in the USA.

What I can become, perhaps, is an immigrant:

Settlers are not immigrants. Immigrants are beholden to the Indigenous laws and epistemologies of the lands they migrate to.

Here's a question: How, as a settler, would I acquire the moral right to influence the laws and epistemologies of whichever land I should migrate to?

I don't have the legitimizing moral narratives that indigenous peoples do, am I doomed to simply occupy a subordinate place in a new hierarchy?

The authors, I should note, explicitly say no, but also explicitly say that they basically can't explain why not and so I just shouldn't worry about the question for now.

Honestly I think a tremendous amount of American history involves attempts to deal, psychologically, with the fact that the question of who has power and who doesn't has been decided in a way which is at odds with most of our country's moral pretensions. I think that shame has been one of the great psychological factors driving white attitudes in the US, both racist and anti-racist.

Think about what the "moves to innocence" that the authors delineate would mean if you took their moral position seriously. Those moves to innocence are attempts, I am quite sure, to find a way to act in the world for your own benefit without feeling shame. The indigenous person can ask for the control of the land they occupy without shame; for the settler, even to occupy the land is to make yourself part of a shameful process.

"Decolonization is not a metaphor" treats the desire to express oneself without feeling shame around it as essentially a distraction.

The settler is simultaneously morally obligated to exercise a tremendous amount of power and effort, because how could the non-metaphorical expropriation of all US land and the end of the USA as a functioning state take anything other than a tremendous amount of power and effort, but also to have no thought at all about what the ethical exercise of power from a settler would look like.

It is morally imperative that the settler begin to act and use his power in a moral way and at the same time the very question of how the settler would do so is understood as a frustrating distraction from more important questions.

The only possible response for a person who takes this seriously and conceives of themselves as a settler is to just fall back on an entirely incoherent self-image because the demands being made of them are fundamentally incoherent, to feel a kind of shame without shame.

I have probably over-explained this and yet not quite gotten to the central problem. I really disagree with this paper, and I think it is fundamentally unserious and fundamentally poisonous.

Not because the authors propose a massive reorganization of land but because they are utterly unwilling to think about what that would mean on any level whatsoever.

#politics #discourse #Yes I still am very angry at this stuff #I admire the james baldwin quote I used just to be clear

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ask-the-critters-survival-au · 14 days

Note

Static dances out from the speaker of the monitor... which is probably power by magic now that you think about it-

"I am sorry children... Picky does not seem willing to listen... It hurts me to think she still considers Dogday to have abandoned you all- especially because it was her own words that confirmed my knowledge of where he is. She seems so... scared to believe what I have said. So quit to curl her ears and ignore it. So quick to turn her emotions into rage... I feel like forcing her to confront that truth may break her."

"I hope you have a plan children. One that does not involve making a deal that could permanently disable you or make this situation even worse. As Hoppy explained the rules behind our contracts? I hope so- if only for you not to fall victims to one of my fellows suggesting a deal that will do more harm then good."

"I have been hard at work devising a way to create a deal that could help you all without harming you or making the situation worse... and I believe I have finally found it. I am to assume that much of the food you all have is food either to rotten to eat or stuff your bodies cannot consume? Picky has told us of your carnivore diets... which does not make sense do to what was used to make you. Studying of that strange issue must be dealt with later."

"Using the rules established- it should be possible for you to use the rule of equivalent exchange to turn that rotten and uneatable food into something you can eat. Again, it perplexes me that none of you can eat other things- Ah sorry, Lost in my thoughts again. I will warn you now that you may end up with an amount of food a small bit less then what you use for the deal- but that should be made up for in spades by the meat sent back being cooked- allowing your bodies to absorb much more of the nutrients then simple raw meat."

"As of the recording of this message... Crafty has only been revealed to me. For the sake of future proofing I have also prepared a deal for her as well. I am not sure of the nature of her episodes of madness... all I do know is that she may freak out at no having anything to paint with- and even that is faulty knowledge. So, with this extra deal, it should be simple to change any spare art supplies you have around into another color. In the case you don't have any... I will attempt to devise a safe deal for that for out next contact."

"All you must do is gather the proper items listed for the magics to consume and warp and accept the deal as per our rules. I hope this can help you all moving forward. I got suggest rationing what you can and eating slowly, as flooding the body with nutrients during starvation can cause a multitude of issues. Perhaps getting you all glass jars to preserve the food is in order. I'll attempt to keep the spell work up so you may continue to do this at any time... but magic can be finicky."

"Maybe making this deal to Picky in return for stopping her pursuit would work, but I am still unsure any magic can be done away from the monitor. What are your thoughts on this Children?"

"I will also look into this issue of you not being able to eat food stuff other then meat- that should not be so yet it is... what has Playtime done this time- How would one warp the human stomach that way? Possibly an inhibiter to the brain? or possibly an certain change in the enzymes your bodies produce?- Ah sorry- Rambling once again. Talk to you all soon. Please- Be safe."

(Heh- Magic time : ), Hopefully everything here makes sense and seems fair to you mod. No need to have our beloved stars starve no? Of course if not that is always alright! I simply wish to fulfill my promise of doing all I can to aid these young souls! Hope you have a great day!)

YES YES! FOOD! IM SOOO TIRED OF EATING ROTTEN FLESH! WE ARE SO TAKING THAT DEAL.

I’m not surprised about Picky. She’s…always been a little ignorant.

She’d still hunt me down even if she got that deal. Me and her...have history.

And Crafty not having paint isn’t exactly the problem. She doesn’t have hands to paint with anymore.

You can thank CatNap for that.

[Mod note: I hope you have a good day as well! I love getting your asks :)]

#ask blog #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #ask the critters #smiling critters #poppy playtime au #ask the smiling critters #hoppy hopscotch #hoppy hopscotch poppy playtime #bobby bearhug #bobby bearhug poppy playtime #craftycorn poppy playtime #craftycorn #mod note

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luveline · 11 months

Note

Hi! I have a req for zombie Steve! Maybe one about the day they got stuck in the taco truck and he asked reader to sing for him! Sending all my love to you Jade! 🥰

thank you for your request! steve zombie au —you and steve get stuck in a taco truck with no idea what you mean to one another. 3k, fem!reader

You and Steve stand side by side. The wind is gentle, the sun occluded by a swath of thin clouds. He has a hand reached out to touch your thigh as you stand there, his knuckles pressed to your jeans with light pressure.

"I wish," you begin, a dangerous game, "that someone was about to open the shutter and ask us what we want."

Steve doesn't laugh, but he huffs through his nose. He's growing softer and softer these days, which isn't to say he's soft at all, but he's less coarse. His grumpiness wanes. You think it might have something to do with your sleeping in his lap nearly every night, arms wrapped around his waist while he sits and keeps watch as you rest. Sometimes when he wakes you up to take over, he even deigns to sleep on your thigh.

It's hard to be mad at each other while you use one another like pillows. Hard, yet not impossible.

"I wish I was living on a private island," Steve says. "With a private chef. And–"

"Private dancers?" you tease.

He does smile, then. Like you're friends. Like you could be more. You hope so —he kissed you two weeks ago and he hasn't said a thing about it since. You'd hoped he might kiss you more, but you're content (kind of) with this odd in between.

He doesn't regret it, surely, having been nice to you on multiple occasions since; smoothing your cheek with his knuckle, or nudging you affectionately when you say something meant to be funny. Tiny moments of sweetness.

He'd been sweet before every now and then. Steve isn't mean. He can be, but that isn't the centre of his character. He's brave, loyal, and good to you. He's funny when he lets himself be, and he'd surprised you by being rather creative a few weeks ago, when he'd found a stone that felt gritty and scratched the two of you onto a stretch of sidewalk. "There," he said, giving sidewalk-you an oddly pretty smile, "maybe one day someone will know we were here together."

Together.

"Should we go in?" Steve asks, shielding his eyes from the sun.

In another welcome warming toward you, Steve asks you your opinion more and more.

"Is there any point?" you ask.

"All the food is spoiled for sure, but maybe it'll be worth it. My knife is still stuck in that geek's skull in Masy Daisy. There's probably one in the truck I can replace it with."

"Or a spatula, if not."

"Maybe a ladel," he agrees. "Alright, come on. I'm gonna lift you through the window."

"Why are you going to lift me through the window?" you ask, startled.

"For the knife?"

"But why not the door?"

"Door's locked, genius."

"Why don't I lift you through the window?" you ask. "And shouldn't we at least try the door?"

You try the door and Steve doesn't mock you when it doesn't work, because it had been sensible to test it even if the chances were low. He slides his fingers under the shutter and lifts it until it locks from opening any further, rusty paint specks flaking to the ground.

"You'll have to lift me," he says, as though you hadn't suggested it yourself. Infuriating. "Do you think you can?"

"You don't think I can?" you ask.

His gaze softens, just a bit. "You could barely move the day before yesterday. It's cool if you still feel achy."

He feels guilty for letting you drink water that went bad. It had been a mix up. You asked him to pass you the water bottle and he'd grabbed one someone left behind a long time ago, unaware it was the wrong one until you'd thrown up an hour later. Terrifying, how quickly it upset your stomach. He put a new rule in place swiftly after that any debris in your camps must be swept to the side of the room, even if you're both exhausted.

"I don't feel achy. The only thing that's bothering me is my sore throat," you confess, squaring your jaw. "Come on, Harrington, I can lift you. I'm super strong."

"You're strong," he agrees. "Okay, uh, am I climbing on your back or are you gonna boost me?"

"Boost."

You make an anchoring point with your hand and Steve, after giving you a strange look, pulls the shutter open again and steps into your hand. You're expecting him to be somehow lighter and heavier than he actually is —your hands hurt from the pinpoint of his weight but you'd thought it would be harder to lift him up, and so you'd been trying to give it your all.

"Oh, shit–" Steve's curse is cut off by a loud thump and crash, a clattering of metal against metal as the shutter swings shut behind him.

"Steve!" you shout. Your voice isn't used to yelling. "Steve? Are you okay? I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!"

He's laughing inside, but when he pops his head back out of the truck he glares at you. "What's that about?" His glare melds into a softer look. "You're way stronger than you look."

"I'm sorry," you say.

"It's fine," he says, emphasising with a smile. "It's only a concussion."

You frown at him. He mocks your frown.

He's definitely flirting with you.

"What do you want?" he asks.

"For you to be quick. I'm getting the heebies out here."

"Well, don't say I never tried to grant your wish," he says.

He puts the shutter of the taco truck onto a locked hinge so it keeps itself up and turns away from you. The counter isn't so far from the floor after all, and you can see pretty much everything he does as he scans the interior for useful things.

He grabs a kitchen knife that looks sharp and a saucepan with a hole at the end of the handle that looks perfect for tying to his backpack, passing them down to you carefully.

"There's, uh, there's some t-shirts in here, taco truck shirts. Shit, that's hilarious, should we take them?"

"Yeah," you say, happy if he's happy, "we can be matching."

"Sweet."

Steve climbs up onto the counter. You hold your hands out to help him down, and for a second you think he might let you, his hand in yours. His gaze snags left, and he pitches back into the truck on a mad scramble.

You turn to where he was looking, catch a snapshot of what looks like a writhing hill approaching you, and then Steve's grabbing your forearms hard in his grasp and hissing, "Climb up! Climb up, Y/N. Grab me!"

Your heart rockets into your mouth as you grab his shoulders, fingers aching as they twist into the fabric of his jacket. Steve yanks you inside, and you almost break his chin with your forehead as you topple inside and on top of him, the two of you hitting the short length of flooring with a bang.

"Stay down," he says, hand behind your head, "and be quiet."

Your forehead hurts from hitting into him. You can't imagine how his chin feels. Pulse capering with fear-wrought adrenaline, you hide your face in his neck and try not to pant wetly into his skin. His arms tighten around when the sounds grow closer. Moaning breath. Shuffling, heavy feet.

He holds you. You don't have the wits to revel in it.

You're not sure how long you stay like that, laying on his chest, your hands digging into his sides. He doesn't complain, doesn't hiss or murmur chastisement. Steve hugs you to him and lets out staggering, harsh breaths. He's scared too.

When the sound of the geek herd is a distant memory, you attempt to sit up, and surprisingly he lets you without comment. You kneel on the divoted flooring and blink, and before Steve can sit up himself you're moving into a crouch to peek over the counter.

Your bags have been tramped, your things strewn across the road outside. Steve crouches next to you. "Shit," he says.

"Did I hurt you?" you ask, gesturing to his chin. "I'm really sorry, Steve."

"You say sorry too much," he says, eyes still on the road. "I'm sorry for almost pulling your arms off, okay? Let's call it even." He turns to you. A little frown pulls at the corners of his pretty mouth. "Did I hurt you?"

He grabs your elbow like he might check.

You shake your head vehemently. "No, I'm grateful. I don't know why I didn't notice them coming, I'm an idiot, I was–" distracted by you, you think. Your happy smile. You cough. "I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid. You're reckless, and you could've killed yourself by not keeping an eye out, but you're not stupid."

His chin has a red mark on it. You nibble the inside of your bottom lip unhappily, eyebrows furrowed and then pinching upwards.

"I'm sorry," you say again, quick and upset with yourself.

"Are we okay? Are we alive? We're fine, dummy, and it's okay. Don't be sorry, just help me down so we can get our stuff back. I hope the jar of cut peaches didn't smash."

You both stand with aching knees. You reach for hinge on the shutter to see if you can open it wider and almost lose a finger when it comes crashing down, a cruel metallic screeching sound slicing through the air. You both flinch away from it, eyes screwed closed and hands held upward.

Steve blinks, lowering his hands slowly.

You leap to open it again, embarrassed, wanting to do just one thing right today, but it won't budge. Steve stands next to you and fiddles with it.

"Uh," he says, giving the shutter a good shove. "What did you do?"

And so begins one of the worst nights of your life. You and Steve spend hours trying to open the shutter. You push it, you beat at it with a heavy saucepan, you even break a knife in half and nearly blind yourself trying to force a gap in the seam. Nothing works, and you and Steve grow more and more afraid.

It startles you that he doesn't yell. He doesn't blame you once. He keeps trying to get the shutter open, and when hours of attempting to free you proves fruitless, he sits down in the corner of the van and sighs. His head in his hands, you can't see his face, or gauge his feelings. His slumped shoulders tell you he's tired, but tired of you? Is he bubbling, bottling his anger until the last moment.

You sit down in front of him, your face a little tacky from the occasional self-loathing tear. Your throat aches something fierce. "Don't worry, Steve," you say hoarsely, "I'm gonna keep trying. Just rest, and don't panic. I promise I– I promise I'll get us out."

Steve scrubs his face. He parts his fingers, looking at you from between them with an unreadable emotion.

"I'm really sorry," you say, tears welling thick and fat as heavy rain, quick to race down your cheek. You ignore them as Steve holds your gaze.

He takes your hand. He threads your fingers together. He isn't your boyfriend, but he acts like one, and he sounds like one when he asks, "What did I say about sorry?"

"I know, but this is my fault," you breathe.

"It's not your fault. It's not. Don't cry," he says. "Let me think of something. I'll think of something."

He doesn't let go of your hand. You take it as a cue to stay, and you do, depressed beyond words at the reality of your situation. Again, your circumstances ruin the intimacy of his closeness. He tries his best to comfort you, you know, his thumb rubbing tiny slow circles into the back of your hand.

"Maybe we should sleep," he says, "and try again tomorrow. Maybe the hinge will relax, or something."

You nod numbly. With no reason for a first or second watch, you're expecting Steve to lay flat and sleep without fuss, but he bundles up the spare uniforms inside and leans his head on them, gesturing for you to rest your head on his chest. You do as instructed. Even before he kissed you, you were sleeping in his lap. His chest is no different. You try not to read into it as you settle there, in the same way that you try not to read into his hand on the small of your back, the tip of his ring finger pushed a half of a centimetre into the waistband of your jeans. He probably doesn't know he's doing it.

You're going to die. You're gonna starve to death in here, with him, your boyfriend who isn't your boyfriend, having survived hordes and herds, malnutrition, infection, and a boat load of moderate to severe injuries.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper. You shake under Steve's hands.

"It's not your fault."

"It is. I shut it. I got it stuck."

"But why were we in here?" he asks.

"Because… the herd?"

"But why were we in here?" he asks. "Why did we come this way? Why did we follow this road?"

You sigh into his chest, "No, Steve."

"I asked you to come this way with me. I didn't even ask. I told you we were coming here and you trusted me. You've never," —he swallows audibly— "said no. This is my fault. It's all me." His voice doesn't harden, exactly, but it pulls taut and tensile. Unbreaking. "Just sleep. I'll get us out of here in the morning, I swear."

You try to do as he asks. You know he isn't sleeping either, though he might be pretending you are, because he starts to do what he only does when he thinks you've fallen asleep, his hand stroking up and down your back.

You rub your cheek against his chest.

"You said…" You lick your lips, wondering if you're making a mistake even as you continue, "You liked Fleetwood Mac."

"Yeah?" he asks quietly.

"I liked them too."

"You did?"

"My favourite one, was, um, You Make Loving Fun."

You don't say it, but it's right there between you —the word love. Even with danger hanging over your heads, a mention of love feels awkward, awkward but exciting in that breathless, silly way. At least on your part.

"I don't remember that one."

"That album had all the good ones, that's why. It's forgotten."

Steve smooths a hand down to your jeans. He creeps ever further, his touch just shy of skin he's never felt before. "Would you sing it for me?"

"I'm all scratchy."

"I don't care, I think I'd know it if I heard it. Sing it for me."

You sing the first line, and the second, shaky with insecurity and off key. It's been so long since you heard music, you barely remember how it goes, though you can't forget the words. You're barely singing your way through the end of the verse, "This feeling follows me wherever I go," when Steve starts to tremble underneath you.

You look up. His lips are pressed tightly together and his eyes are shining with delight.

You pout, knowing exactly what he's gonna say. "What?"

"You sound like a dying cat," he says fondly, bursting into laughter.

You sit up and turn from him showfully, slapping his thigh as you go. You're not mad, but it's fun to pretend with him, and even better when he says, "Sorry, I'm sorry, don't be mad, you sound like you've swallowed glass, is what I mean. Hon– Y/N." His hands grabbing at your arm, pulling you back in.

You resist him.

His grip slackens. "Hey, I didn't mean it. I'm kidding," he says.

You shake his hand off of you and stand up. Squinting, you creep toward the door, and you can barely see it in the poor lighting of the truck, but you read it aloud anyways. "Door locks from behind. Do not forget your key."

"What?"

You try the handle.

You hadn't bothered because it was locked from the outside. But this is a food truck, and it would be a fire hazard to lock closed with no escape. The door opens stiffly, but it opens, and the cool air of the night kisses your cheeks.

"Oh, thank god," Steve says.

You prop it open with your foot even if you're sure it won't lock. "Do you really think I sound like a dying cat?"

Steve nods firmly, already sitting up. "But I thought that might be cruel if we died here together. Hence the backtrack."

You and Steve climb down out of the truck and search for your stuff in the dark. The jar of peaches has survived, as well as your favoured pack of playing cards, which you'd envisioned strewn about the street.

"Here," he says, pressing it into your hand. He turns his flashlight on and shines it downward, looking for the rest of your canned food.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

You really do like him, love him, even. You're grateful for him, and the euphoria of knowing you're not doomed after all rises fast. But he's a dick. You can be a dick back.

"Hey, Steve?" you ask sweetly. He turns, torch in hand, looking pleased. "Hey. I was thinking, now we aren't going to die and all, I could teach you some games? Gin rummy?"

"Sure."

"We can bet using the jar of peach slices. I'll go easy on you, though, 'cos you've never played it."

He smiles at you. "Thanks, Y/N."

You smirk to yourself and step forward to pick up a stray can of spaghetti shapes. "No problem," you say under your breath. "No problem at all."

—

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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lizzie-queenofmeigas · 3 months

Text

My Opinions Of TVDU In 2024

(They really haven't changed all that much but I feel like sharing)

–I loveeee Delena. Yep, I love this ship with all my heart and I'm not afraid to say it.

–I loveee Damon, probably another problematic opinion but I don't care.

–I don't like Caroline. There, I said it. She is just the kind of person that would irritate the shit out of me. Honestly, until season 8 I couldn't handle her scenes.

–Bonenzo is the best. Loveee it. They deserved better and I personally want to stab Julie Plec for how they ended.

–Bonnie deserved better. This is an universal truth.

–I hate Tyler, but I recognise that he was right to hate Klaus and right to be mad at Caroline for sleeping with him. Revenge on Klaus was kind of dumb, but understandable. He was right to want him dead.

–Klaus is my beloved, always going to be and I'm not even sorry.

–Marcel is a Mikaelson!!! Marcel is Klaus's son and his treatment is another reason for me to feel murderous to the writers of the shows.

–I don't like Kol. Yeah, he was right in many things, but he came across as somehow self-righteous and believed himself better than his family. Like bro, you aren't.

–Finn deserved better. I honestly still wonder if Finn knew about Klaus's real father, 'cause if he did Klaus would have a valid reason to hate him. I am saying this because in The Originals season 2 episode 3 we have flashbacks of young Klaus and the necklace Esther gave him. If I remember correctly Finn was always in the background and even retrieved the necklace when Klaus lost it. Given that Finn remembered Freya and what happened to her, it wouldn't be far fetched to think he knew who Klaus's real father was and hid it as well. That being said, he is a victim of his parents as well and deserved better.

–I hate Elijah. He just gives me the wrong vibes.

–Marcel and Rebekah made sense and I ship it. The Mikaelson family is insane with their romantic relationships, so they just sort of clicked.

–Kol should have taken the cure instead of Rebekah. Bekah could just adopt, but what is going to happen with Kol when Davina dies? Nothing good. Plus, he loved being a witch.

–Hayley and Klaus and Klaus and Cami made way more sense than Haylijah and Klaroline. Honestly and throuple with Klaus and the two women who call him out on his shit the most would have been chef kiss. Hope deserved two moms.

–Every Klaus ship made more sense than Caroline. Bonnie? Bennett witch and he likes witches. Aurora? First female vampire (other than Bex) and met him when he wasn't as he is now. Elena? Has Tatia's face, and I think if Klaus just tried to befriend her and explain why he needed to break his curse she would've helped. Camille? Her mind, she clocked him the moment they met, not to mention the O'Connell legacy. Genevieve? Powerful Witch. Hayley? Baby mama, werewolf princess and hybrid, not to mention they are similar. Stefan? The ripper days gave off fruity vibes. Damon? I love their scenes together, they have a similar vibe to them. Rebekah? He is literally killing her boyfriends left and right. Elijah? The codependency is strong here, Elijah's girlfriends have a higher mortality rate than Rebekah's boyfriends. Katherine? Tatia's face, also they are similar. Greta? Their few interactions in season 2 pointed to a thing going on.

–Elena is overhated. Baby has the biggest survivor's guilt in the universe and still she soldiers on. I hate when people said she was less compassionate as a vampire, I honestly thought she was the same. Like, she controls her hunger to become a doctor. She is too good for this world.

–Enzo should have been introduced sooner, Bonnie and him should have gotten together sooner.

–They should have explored Damon's trauma with Augustine more, and the fact that he always disregards his emotions.

–Klaus wolf side should have been explored!!!

–Unpopular opinion, but not everything Katherine did was necessary for her to survive. She could have easily contented herself with one Salvatore brother, but she had to go after both.

–Davina and Klaus needed more scenes together. I mean, that's her adoptive grandpa!

–Lily was awful, Damon was in his rights to not forgive her.

–I liked Valerie, and I liked her with Stefan.

–They should have explained more about Klaus ability to have children, 'cause that was weird. I loved it, but weird.

–Alaric should have died and the twins should have been raised by someone else.

–Matt lived too long.

–Jeremy and Damon were kind of funny.

–Bamon was really great.

–They should have addressed the fact that growing up Damon was the only one there for Stefan. We saw that in the flashbacks but they should have said it more.

–Damon purpose in life was to live for those he loved. My take on him.

–Damon was pretty humanity-full vampire until after Augustine when he turned off his humanity. But, five years of torture in the hands of humans would do that to a guy.

–The witches opinion on vampires were ridiculous. This species has been around for over a millennium, they are pretty assimilated in the magic ecosystem. I think their extinction would actually do more damage than their existence.

–Mikael and Esther deserved more pain.

–I think Dahlia only tried to negotiate with Klaus not only because he was Hope's father but because he was the only one who wasn't Mikael's son.

–Vampire/Supernatural politics are actually so interesting.

–Lexi was too hyped. And I don't get what she had against Damon in the forties.

–Legacies doesn't exist.

That's all. For now.

#the vampire diaries #the originals #tvd #to #tvdu #tvd universe #klaus mikaelson #damon salvatore #elena gilbert #bonnie bennett #anti klaroline #anti Haylijah #legacies #anti legacies

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kimaratomoya · 5 months

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Yippee!! Millie!

Soooo @theoscout my friend! I recently finished Millie's character analysis. Here's what I have for her.

- Goth/Daydreams of death/Loves Edgar Allan Poe/Wore the full Goth getup/Vegetarian/Loves Poems/Has a cat named after Annabel Lee/Likes Emo music (Curt Carrion - never got around to checking if this was a reference to something)

Now these are just observations about her, her external persona if you will. Then we go a bit deeper.

- Lives with her Grandad/Parents in Saudi Arabia/Parents have a bad reputation which is reflected on her/"Dracula's Daughter"/She's 14 years old

Ok so here we see how stuff is affecting her. It's clear there's family issues, with her loving with her Grandad, even if it was her choice. She mentions having cried over deciding, which makes sense since she's literally too young to be making large decisions like that. Her parents reputation and her reputation as a goth definitely affects her too.

- Her only friend Hannah left her/Instantly falls for someone who looks at her differently than other people (Dylan)

Clearly she is having a lot of social issues as well, which probably isn't helped by her goth exterior. Even though the book is set in more modern times with there being smart phones, being goth is still a bit looked down upon. Now, when Dylan gets mad at Millie, he makes the comment that she's had other male friends in the past and she says she has, even though she hasn't. Now I think she was just trying to make herself seem less lonely, but in reality, she only ever refers to Hannah as a past friend, and Dylan as a friend/crush and says there are no other friends.

- Honorable side note that on page 159 of the physical book I own, her grandad makes a comment about her meeting a guy, or girl, and insinuates she has a crush on them.

First of all he's supportive and that's cute. And secondly, it's possible she's bi, or questioning, and that's pretty slay for her.

- Not suicidal, just sad/Thinking about death "Changed her"/Unstable/Hormonal/Judgmental/Never happy as it's a "waste of time"

She was a teenager. And a young one at that. She acts way more like a 16-17 year old with how resigned she is, and I honestly thought she was that old. She is 14! She shouldn't be saying things like it's not worth it to be happy. Like obviously there's family issues going on and social issues too, but I do feel bad for her. To a point. She was extensively judgey on girls who weren't like her, and calls them basic. Now, that's a little hypocritical and I do agree with Dylan that she is in no place to talk about people's appearances, but I do also have to point out that those "basic girls" were the ones calling her names and basically shunning her so her anger is slightly justified. I think any teen or young adult would see where she's coming from.

- "Silly Millie"

Even as she is being threatened with death, she is being called names. Which is shitty. I hate Ft. Freddy.

I am trying to keep my AU stuff and my headcanons out of this, so any thoughts I said were based on the facts from the book. Please ask for more characters, and they don't have to be the main ones. I am making notes on side characters that are mentioned more than once as well as location and odd lore points. The villains are also having pages of information written for them.

(Also for the person who asked for Oscar, I'm working on his for ya! Should be out soon!)

#fnaf #fazbear frights #ask response #five nights at freddy's #fnaf millie fitzsimmons #fnaf books #millie fazbear frights #count the ways #funtime freddy #funtime freddy count the ways #ft freddy #ft freddy count the ways #into the pit

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

steady pt three (i keep all my affection in a paper cup)

pt one | pt two | pt three | masterlist | prequel

pairing- rooster x female bartender!reader (no y/n)

synopsis-

You want to tell her you know how she feels, it’s truly unfair for someone to look this good with that mustache. There’s a bead of sweat rolling down his neck to his collarbone and you want nothing more than to follow it with your tongue. Alice looks like she agrees with you.

Completely unaware of his own effect, Bradley just swipes his card.

warnings- 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex oops, light daddy kink/bradley bradshaw is a soft daddy dom that just wants to take care of his girl this is the hill i'll die on, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), lil bit of praise kink (can i write smut without someone -especially rooster- saying good girl, prob not), breeding kink if you squint but like...don't it's like half a line & i'm scared of kids so it's not really breeding kink idk, no kink negotiation here so not a good example of what you should do irl, brief mention of past infidelity (no current cheating)

length- 5.6k ish

an- i can't believe this is over this is literally the most difficult thing i've ever written, also for real publix sandwiches are the goat i wouldn't share mine with bradley. I’m sorry the end was so cheesy I hate myself lol ok ily all bye

this chapter title is also from only for a moment by lola marsh lmao i basically wrote 15k based on one song that's less than 3 minutes long

You slam the door a little harder than necessary when you get to the rental car.

“Did you get the closure you needed?” Bradley asks tentatively, probably wary of the chaos you know is simmering under your skin.

“Closure from another person is a myth,” you answer firmly. “Only you can give yourself closure.”

“So, no, in other words.”

You appreciate that he’s at least trying to keep the amusement out of his voice as you repeat his cheesy quotes back to him, but it's short-lived because everything feels too small, too suffocating in the muggy Austin air.

You almost don't tell Bradley, but a part of you recognizes you need to get the words out. That someone else needs know about you and Jake so it doesn't subsist only in your eyes, so it doesn't blind you as it disrupts your field of vision, bright spots of an incoming migraine.

“He said he’s in love with me.”

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and you raise an eyebrow.

After a beat he relaxes, tone frustratingly even. “Bold, considering he’s still married, right?”

“Bold,” you scoff. “That’s one way to put it. I didn’t bother to ask. No ring, but we all know how you pilots are about rings.”

“Why?”

You shrug. Because it doesn’t matter.

“I want to ask you something, but you have to promise not to get mad at me,” he continues, gaze fixed on the road.

Even though you know you’re unlikely to get mad at him, you grumble anyways. “No promises.”

“I’m not trying to sound judgmental. You obviously loved him. But can I ask, why you stayed so long? Wasn’t it excruciating?”

Loved. Past tense. You're surprised as you realize how true that feels, that Jake has maybe, finally, become someone you loved and not someone your heart still beats for.

“I’ve never been in a serious relationship before,” you admit, softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “At a certain point, maybe I started to think there was something wrong with me, a reason I wasn’t worth the effort of a real relationship. Like maybe what I had with Jake was better than I would ever get from someone else.”

You hear a pained noise from him, but barrel on, knowing if you don’t get the words out right now, they may live inside you forever.

“It wears on you after awhile. My guy friends are always acting sarcastic about it, wow must be so horrible to be pretty, so shitty that everyone wants to sleep with you. People say it enough, men confirm it with their actions, and eventually, you start to feel like that’s all you’re worth.

You shudder; you’ve never admitted that out loud before.

"I know what it looks like, but it was more than sex. I’d just never felt that way about anyone before.”

Bradley pulls into the parking lot of your hotel, but you’re staring straight ahead, admission having frozen you in place.

“I don’t know how to make you believe you’re worth more than that. Seresin was practically falling apart, and he hasn’t even seen you in almost a year, for fuck’s sake. Those guys that missed out on knowing you, they’re morons.”

He pauses and takes a deep breath, looks over at you and you feel his dark eyes burning into the side of your face.

“Cali, I—if you think he’s being serious, if you want to be with him, I know it’s complicated, but I have your back.”

Any ice that was thawing around you suddenly frosts again.

“You think I should try to work things out,” you say slowly. “With Jake.”

He flinches. “That’s what you’re taking from—fuck, never mind. I didn’t say that. I just want you to know I’m here for you, whatever you decide.”

Your stomach is sinking and you’re not entirely sure why.

“Thank you,” you manage to murmur, squeezing his forearm affectionately before getting out of the car, worried he’ll see the tears forming in your eyes.

It stays sunk as you get back to your hotel room, as you get ready for bed silently, as you bury yourself under the covers and turn your back to him.

He feels miles away in the other bed, somehow farther away than he does with a flight of stairs separating you at home in Florida.

Sure, a mini vacation to a wedding (even if it is to Texas of all places) is a little intense for friends, but that’s yours and Bradley’s thing if you’re being honest. You guys have spent the last six months being a little intense and over-committed. Being the only things to pull each other out of the dark places you longed to hide in.

You agreed to come, as a friend. It’s not like you guys pretended to be dating, it’s not like he didn’t introduce you to everyone as his friend from Florida.

You’re not sure when you started hoping for more, when you started thinking there was something promising constructing itself in the space between your apartments.

Rooster immediately knows it was a mistake to visit you at work. But you’re working the early shift and things have been so off since you guys got back from Texas. It’s like you’ve retreated into your shell, like you’ve put back on every layer he spent months peeling away.

You smile when you see him, but there’s something hollow in it, something not all there.

He’s pretty sure he overstepped asking you about Jake, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up again, how to apologize without making it worse.

He couldn’t help it; he saw how Jake looked at you. Understands how Jake feels, knows all too well the magnetic pull of you, the involuntary twitch of fingers to touch you. But the way you stole glances after you stopped panicking at his presence…well he’s fairly certain you’ve never looked at him the way you tried to hide you were looking at Jake.

He felt all the air empty from the room the moment you two were aware of each other's presence.

Bradley doesn’t know how to compete with a love like that.

Despite all that he can’t stay away from you, can’t spend another night in his apartment wondering what you’re thinking.

Unfortunately, that means he’s in a touristy tiki bar, politely letting a girl chat him up while you busy yourself making sweet cocktails with overcomplicated garnishes just out of his line of sight.

She’s pretty. And nice. She’s drinking a Jungle Bird which he knows you don’t detest making, so he doesn’t feel bad when she orders another to stick around and talk to him. She laughs at his jokes and doesn’t tell him he’s an idiot for not liking The Office. As far as he can tell (given that he met her about five minutes ago) there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her.

Except for the fact that she’s not you, of course.

She excuses herself to the bathroom and you make your way over to his side of the bar, wordlessly putting a fresh beer in front of him.

“You should ask her out,” you suggest. “She’s gorgeous.”

Bradley stalls, blinks twice. His tongue is suddenly sticking to the roof of his mouth. “You think so?”

You roll your eyes. Usually, he secretly loves how much you roll your eyes, the fire that’s always lit behind them. Loves the bratty disposition you manage to express with one little look. He’s always liked how expressive your features are, how he can read your mood before you even say a word.

Right now though, it just makes him uneasy.

“Everyone thinks so, look at her.”

“No—that’s not what I—” he stutters. “I meant, you really think I should ask her out?”

“Yeah, she obviously likes you. It’s not like she’s going to say no.”

Bradley hates the way his heart sinks at your suggestion, but nods anyways, choosing not to correct your assumption that he’s stammering with nervousness over this girl he just met. He desperately wants to change the subject, to make sure he’ll be able to see you outside of the shell you put on for work.

“I have your suitcase at home if you want to get it after work. Sorry, I forgot it was still in the Bronco when I left the other morning.”

When he left for work after carrying your sleeping form up to his apartment, not wanting to risk waking you by searching for the keys to your place, because you looked too peaceful for him to wake up after the flight back.

He forced himself to sleep on the couch, despite how pretty you looked in his bed, how badly he wanted to crawl in with you, tell his students he got stuck in Texas, and keep you in bed with him forever.

He walks home when you tell him you'll come by after Beth takes over, after Jungle Bird slides him her number on a napkin, hoping it’ll clear his head. Sits on the beach, watches the sky darken over the water. Wonders if he should play it cool and wait to text her. Wonders if he even wants to text her at all.

He knows he’s ready to date again after Lauren, has been for a while now, so eventually, he does text, because pining after you isn’t going to get him anywhere.

He thinks he can be your friend, if that's all he's going to get.

He’s just barely gotten through his front door when you knock, sweaty and red-faced.

“Just got back from a run,” you tell him, clearly having seen the question perched on his lips. You’re still breathing a little hard and it’s sending his blood in the opposite direction of where he needs it to be going.

The sweat dripping down into the valley of your breasts is giving him decidedly not friendly thoughts.

“You hate running,” he says instead, brows furrowed.

You shrug. “Did you make plans with the girl from the bar?”

He rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“Yeah,” he answers finally. “We’re going out this weekend.”

“That’s great,” you say flatly, immediately turning to leave, picking up your forgotten suitcase a little too aggressively, like it’s done something to offend you.

“Hey, wait, hold on.” Bradley reaches out for your arm, tugging gently and forcing you to stop in your tracks. “Are we in a fight right now? Is this about the wedding?”

“No,” you answer petulantly. You won’t meet his eyes, instead staring down at where his fingers encircle your wrist.

“No, we’re not in a fight or no, this isn’t about the wedding?”

“This isn’t about the wedding,” you reply through clenched teeth. “Not entirely, at least.”

He can’t help but let pride swell through him at your words, knowing a few months ago you would’ve lied about being fine until you were blue in the face.

It still feels like he’s taking a shot in the dark, a tiny flicker of hope igniting in his chest. “You told me to ask her out.”

You cringe, face twisting in pain like you just sucked on a lemon. “Only because you were pushing me to go back to Jake! I thought that was what you wanted. I thought—”

You’re breathing hard, but he’s pretty sure your chest is heaving with emotion, not from your run. Your mouth is open to continue when he says your name.

Not Cali. It sounds hard and serious as it passes his lips. You wince and he immediately feels bad.

“Stop,” he continues firmly, determined not to lose his nerve at the hurt crossing your features, willing himself not to get worked up and loud. “Don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I was doing. I know we went to the wedding as friends, but it’s stupid to deny there’s been something building between us for a while now.”

Your expression softens and Bradley knows instantly that you feel it too.

“I just didn’t want you to shut the door on Jake out of some obligation to me. I want you to choose me, for me. Not because I’m not him.”

He sees the moment it clicks for you, the second you start seeing how the wedding must’ve looked through his eyes.

“I’ll never go back to Jake,” you say quietly. “For lots of reasons that have nothing to do with you.”

Something inside him unfurls, anxiety sitting in his stomach loosening, but he’s not done, can’t be done, until his intentions are crystal clear.

“What do you want? Do you even know? Because I know what I want.” He grabs your arms, turning your body to face him fully. Hooks a finger under your chin, making you look up at him as he tries to gather the courage to say this next part. “And I can’t settle for anything less. If you want casual, I can’t give you that.”

“I don’t want you to go out with her.” It’s as good as an admission from you, he knows that.

Dark eyes warm as the beginning of a smile stretches across his face. His chest is lightening, warmth bubbling within. “How come?”

“You’re smart enough to do the math,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. But there’s a bright, happy tinge edging at the corners of your mouth.

He’s full-on grinning now, reaching to pull you into him by the waist. He tucks his face into your hair, so you won’t see the giddy expression on his face. “Tell me anyways.”

“Want you all to myself,” you mumble, lips ghosting over his skin to make him shudder.

You might have more to say, but Bradley used all his patience flying today and his hand tilts your chin to him, lips covering yours before you can make another sound.

You make a tiny mewl in surprise against his mouth as he grips you, tongue sliding past your lips and his blood immediately rushes south.

Making a face when Bradley manages to pull himself away from your lips, you look down at your sweaty sports bra. “I need to shower.”

“Shower here,” he suggests. “I’ll make us dinner. You can spend the night, maybe? And I won’t sleep on the couch this time? I promise I’ll behave.”

Bradley sees his hopeful eyes mirrored back at him when he finally takes a chance to look at your face.

Things are so shakily composed between the two of you, that he’s somewhat afraid if he lets you go back downstairs to your apartment you’ll spiral and come up with a hundred reasons not to give you guys a shot.

Maybe he’s being insecure, sue him.

You seem to understand where he’s coming from, the tenuous connection hanging delicately in the air between the two of you. Nodding, your fingers play with the hem of his shirt fitfully before you rush to his shower, like if you waited for another second you might not be able to peel yourself off him.

He inflates with pride at that too.

Bradley overestimated his abilities, probably, when he promised to behave. He didn’t think about how hard it would be not to think about you naked in his shower while he seeks out ingredients to throw together for dinner.

Didn’t think about how good you’d smell, fragrant with his body wash as you wrap your arms around him from behind.

Bradley’s movements are shaky, and jerky when he turns around to kiss you. He clears his throat, and only just barely keeps himself from running his hands underneath the baggy top that hangs off your shoulders. “Is that my shirt?”

You freeze. “I…yes. Is that okay? I didn’t have anything with me, but I can run downstairs…”

You say something under your breath that he can’t quite make out. Your face is completely unreadable and Bradley’s body flashes hot and cold every other second.

“No, don’t, it, uh, looks good on you,” he says finally when he’s pretty sure he’s not going to rip it in the process of pulling it over your head.

Bradley’s taking deep breaths, using grounding techniques. He breathes in through his nose, and out through his mouth. He knows you’re not trying to tease him. You’re not doing anything, not really.

This is Florida, everyone is scantily clad more often than they’re not.

If he’s going to behave, he’s going to have to tap into that self-control he beat himself over the head with every time he saw you in a bikini before today.

It’s just so much worse now that he’s allowed to touch you.

“It’s hard, with you looking like that in my shirt. I want to fuck you stupid,” he admits.

Your mouth drops open in surprise.

“But I think we should take things slow. I don’t want to mess this up by jumping in before we’re ready.”

His cock twitches when he notices the disappointment you’re not trying very hard to hide.

“Okay,” you pout. “You’re probably right.”

You turn to open the fridge, leaning to grab a water and his shirt rides up a little higher on your already bare legs.

Bradley groans, head falling back to stare at the ceiling. “Baby, you’re killing me.”

You can’t believe how much you hated Florida beaches when you first moved. The Keys are beautiful, with endless white sand and clear water.

You convince Bradley to stop by Publix on the way back, with promises of pasta for dinner. You really just want a sub to take to work tomorrow, but you’re not going to tell him that.

The poor cashier practically swallows her tongue when she sees Bradley, shirt open over his bare chest and covered in sand, sunglasses sliding down his nose that’s pink from the sun. He makes sure to look at her name tag and smiles genuinely at her when he asks, Alice, how’s your day going?

You’re going to pass out.

Completely unaware of his own effect, Bradley just swipes his card.

It’d be infuriating if it wasn’t so adorable.

This time you’re counting all the ways he’s not Jake, but it’s a good thing. Jake would’ve preened, leaned into smirk, just so he could see the blush rise on the poor girl’s cheeks.

It’s not that that’s bad, you know you do the same sometimes. Smirking at guys you know are giving you a once-over while you make their drinks, sparkle in your eyes because you don’t always hate the attention.

But it’s oddly endearing with Bradley, how he doesn’t seem to know the effect he has on people. Like he doesn’t fly multi-million-dollar planes for a living, like he couldn’t use that to get any girl he wanted in his bed.

He’s just being mean when you guys get to the car, flinging his unbuttoned shirt off and into the back of the Bronco and muttering something about tan lines.

Your mouth is watering.

When you get back to your complex, you snag his forgotten shirt and form a plan.

“Caliiiiiii,” Bradley sings as he bursts into your apartment. It’s a good thing you never listened to Beth about locking your front door because shirtless Bradley Bradshaw is a sight to behold. “Showered so you wouldn’t complain about—”

You hear him stop dead in his tracks at the entrance to your kitchen. When you look over your shoulder at him those plush lips are parted, eyes roaming over the back of you. You’re clad in one of his marginally less offensive button-ups (at least there aren’t any birds on it), thrown hastily over your bikini.

“How gentlemanly of you to shower for dinner with little ol’ me,” you giggle. “But I have to admit I haven’t had time for more than rinsing the sand off.”

He ignores you completely, tone accusing like you hadn’t spoken at all. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

You consider denying it but can’t fully hold back the smirk forming. “Well, you seemed to enjoy it when I wore your shirt last time.”

Bradley just nods dumbly.

“Anyways, don’t get too excited, this is one of three dishes I can actually make, but I thought we’d…” You trail off because he’s suddenly right behind you, crowding you so you feel the heat radiating from him as he brackets you with his arms.

“Nope,” he says tersely. “Dinner can wait. Turn off the stove.”

He turns you around so he can kiss you, slow and deliberate. His tongue slides between your lips assertively, hands tapping on your thighs as a sign for you to hop backward and up on the counter. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

“Wait, what?” You ask, but he’s already on his knees.

You should’ve known then and there he was going to be nothing but trouble.

The first time Bradley makes you come, you’re still in the kitchen. He’s kneeling with his face buried in your pussy, skimpy bathing suit bottoms long flung behind him, lips curled around your clit insistently even as your thighs clutch his head in a way that must be uncomfortable. After all his talk of wanting to wait and do things right, it’s almost funny. Would be, if your mind wasn’t currently busy whiting out.

The second time, he drags you to the living room before you’ve had any time to recover and pulls your back against his chest in front of the couch. The tall mirror in the corner of the living room displays the absolute debauchery unfolding on the floor in the middle of your apartment.

“Keep your legs open, baby. You can do that, right? Be good for me?”

You’re nodding before you even know what you’re doing, head jerking up and down like a bobblehead.

“Fuck, look at you,” he croons in between the nips he’s determinedly pressing on your neck. Barely even a command, you still look up, watching your reflection as his lips trace across the top of your shoulder, mustache leaving red marks in its wake. One hand is busy tugging the strings of your bathing suit top loose so he can toss it out of his way, while the other drifts to tease your inner thighs.

Bronze eyes meet yours in the mirror and he grins, like the cat that got the canary. “Gorgeous, darlin’.” And then he pushes two fingers into you without warning, the stretch making you keen as your head falls back on his shoulder. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve thought about you like this.”

“Ohmygo—Bradley.” You turn your head to kiss him, but it ends up being little more than your lips slotting together and you moaning straight into his mouth as he fucks his fingers in relentlessly, your hands gripping his arms like they can’t decide if they want to pull him in closer or push him away, oversensitive as you are from his mouth.

You sink into him, into his hands, his grip. Let it erase the gravity that keeps you tethered to the ground, let yourself flutter high above the clouds.

You don’t even realize how close you are until he curls his fingers inside you to graze that soft spot, thumbing at your clit. His other hand palms your tit and tweaks your nipple at the same time his teeth close on your neck and you’re done for, letting it crash into you, cunt clenching around his fingers and back arching away from his chest.

It takes you a few seconds to come down, eyes closed as you blindly turn your head in search of Bradley’s mouth. He kisses you sweetly, but briefly and you make a noise of discontent when he pulls away. You open your eyes to glower at him but when you do, you see a filthy gleam in his eyes that warms you straight to your core like you didn’t just come twice in two different rooms of your house.

His fingers are suddenly pressing at your lips, and you watch his eyes glaze over as you take them in and suck, licking your release from his fingers. You’re suddenly very, very aware of how hard he is behind you, thighs clenching at the realization that he’s straining against his shorts, grinding against your ass because he’s so turned on from getting you off.

God, he’s so perfect it’s not even fair.

His digits in your mouth are giving you your own wicked ideas, about returning the favor as you wriggle your way around to face him. It’s a good thing his other arm immediately goes to support you because you’re pretty sure your legs are made of jelly.

He seems to read your mind, or maybe just the way your cheeks hollow around his fingers as you look down to the bulge in his pants, lips already forming wicked promises as he pulls his hand away from you. “Next time, baby. Need to be inside you.”

The high-pitched whimper that leaves you at that would be embarrassing if you could currently remember that you have downstairs neighbors. You can’t, though, so who cares.

“Want you to ride me,” he grunts. “Have to see how gorgeous my girl looks bouncing in my lap. Can you do that for me?”

To be honest, you’re not sure you can. It’s a 50/50 chance your legs will give out the moment Bradley stops holding you up, but you want to, want to so badly.

You nod anyways, figuring odds are Bradley will catch you if you melt into the floor, and he swings around so he can lay flat on the rug. His shirt slips off your shoulders, getting trapped around your elbows as you lean forward to support yourself on his chest. You’re about to fling it off when he makes a strangled noise, hands going to bring the material back up.

“Baby, please.” There’s a little whine in Bradley’s voice that turns you inside out. “Keep it on.”

That sweetness, that little crack in his dominance is way hotter than it has any right to be.

You make quick work of his shorts, biting your lip as you pull him out, his tip red and leaking precum.

“Christ, Bradley, this how you got your callsign?” You manage to mumble as he pulls you up to balance your hand on his chest again.

The bastard winks. “I know you can take it. Been so good for me, why stop now?”

Using your free hand to guide you, you sink down slowly, not bothering to hold in the moans at the stretch of him.

Stars are bursting behind your eyes that are squeezed tight against the intensity of it, your slick walls are oversensitive and shaking already. Bradley’s hands are clenched on your hips, trying not to move before you’re ready.

You roll your hips, starting to find your rhythm, and he groans, head thumping back against the floor.

When he looks back up at you his eyes are almost completely black. “Look so fucking beautiful bouncing on my cock, darlin'.”

He reaches up to grab your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples just to make you squirm even more, before trailing his fingers down to your clit as he starts shifting up to meet the grind of your hips and it’s so much, too much, sending sparks straight through you.

You shudder. “Bradley—da—I can’t.”

There’s something knowing in his gaze, at your pace stuttering, at your half-formed words trying to claw their way out of your throat. He slows as you do, ever so slightly pulling his finger from your clit. “Need a break, baby?”

You bite your lip, refusing to meet his molten gaze, giving only a tiny shake of your head, trying to find your rhythm again.

When he smirks, you can feel it permeating the air around you. “That’s what I thought. One more, I know you can give me one more.”

He plants his feet flat on the floor behind you, giving himself the power and leverage to fuck you in earnest from below. You’re trembling, you know sounds are leaving your mouth, but you’ve no idea if they’re words at this point.

You’re not fluttering above the clouds anymore, you’re flying, speeding through, fast and hard and riotous.

Bradley’s voice is low and gravelly, but he’s looking up at you with reverence. “It’s okay, baby, you can let go. I’ve got you, gonna take care of my girl.”

“Daddy,” you whine, any sense of coherency, shame, or worry having left you two orgasms ago.

The sound that rips from Bradley’s chest at that is rough and guttural, hands going to your hips in a bruising hold. “That’s right, gonna come for daddy like a good girl, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding, babbling, keening yesdaddyyesfuckbradley— You dig your nails into his chest as it hits you. Electricity ripples under your skin, through your veins, dominoes cascading down and hitting every nerve ending in your body. It’s right on the edge of pain, body worn out and spent from tensing and releasing.

“Fuck, baby, so gorgeous when you come on my cock, gonna fuck my girl so full,” he grunts, big hands bouncing you like a ragdoll in his lap.

Even through the fog, his words hit you hard. “Fuck—please, daddy.”

His thrusts get shallower, wilder, before his back arches from the floor, mouth spilling incoherent praise, holding you down onto him as he spills inside of you.

You slump down onto him, the only sound in the room yours and Bradley’s heavy breathing.

You’re falling apart, body trembling and shaking, and you’re still on the floor. You’ve no idea how you’ll survive when Bradley finally takes you to a bed.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “And here I was thinking you couldn’t get any hotter.”

You flush pink immediately, wincing as you move to get off him, wetness sliding down your thighs. He scoops you up almost immediately, carrying you to the shower and mumbling under his breath about making sure to keep daddy’s cum inside of you.

“Oh my god, Bradley,” you whine. “I can’t go again."

The pasta is completely unsalvageable by the time you get out of the shower. He’s lucky you’re willing to share your precious sandwich with him.

When you see your downstairs neighbor the next day, she immediately reddens and turns on her heel to get away from you.

You’re back at the beach when Penny gets a call from you.

“Burning off some energy,” you tell her when she asks what you’re up to. “I’ve had a lot of that lately.”

“Should’ve just let me introduce you to Rooster from the beginning.”

“Who says this has anything to do with Rooster?” You ask, even though both of you know you’re lying through your teeth.

“Nothing wrong with being happy, honey.” You can hear her smiling through the phone.

“I might actually be happy?” You joke. “Is that what this is?”

“You guys are in the honeymoon phase. Every song on the radio is about you, neither of you can do anything wrong—”

“Oh, he does plenty wrong, believe me—”

Penny isn’t bothering to hide her laugh anymore, but her tone is still soft and caring. “It’s sweet. Rooster’s a good guy. He’s been through a lot.”

“He is. I’m kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop,” you admit. “Wish I could just enjoy it.”

“It’s hard. You don’t give your heart away easily,” Penny responds like you’re easy to read, easy to understand.

Maybe you are.

“You wouldn’t be taking this chance unless he was worth it,” she adds when you don’t answer, too busy thinking about how maybe that mask you’ve always worn isn’t as opaque as you thought it was.

Maybe that’s fine. Maybe you really are as strong as you pretended to be with that mask.

That’s the thing about masks. Sometimes you realize they’re more a part of you than you ever thought. When you thought you were faking it the whole time.

“He’s definitely worth it.”

Rooster raises an eyebrow at you, having come back to the tree you’ve taken residence under.

“Talking about my other boyfriend,” you tease, trying not to get distracted by the swimsuit that seems to be riding lower than it was before he ventured into the water.

“Hand the phone to Rooster, I want to talk to him.”

You giggle, sticking it out in his direction. “Penny wants to talk to you.”

“If you think my loyalty here lies with you, you're sorely mistaken,” Penny says, warning dancing all over her tone.

“You don’t have to be worried, Pen.” Bradley looks at you, eyes warm, fingers drifting up your legs. “If anyone’s gonna get their heart broken here, it’s me.”

d a y 3 6 7

You don’t notice the date, but a year since you moved to Florida, almost to the day, you realize you’re in love with Bradley Bradshaw.

As it turns out, loving Bradley is like flying high above the clouds.

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