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#the random use of sign language at the end???
samgelina-jolie · 1 year
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this is how I imagine Eddie talking about Steve in @morganbritton132 and other tiktok aus
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kirbyskisses · 11 months
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dear non-spanish speakers writing spiderverse fanfiction (or anything with spanglish),
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in spanglish you don’t switch by word, you switch by phrase.
it’s not:
“[first part of the sentence in english], [second part of the sentence in english], mi amor.”
“[full english sentence], querida.”
it’s:
“[first part of the sentence in english], [segunda parte de la frase en español], mi amor.”
-
also miles is boricua, miguel is mexican. they have two different accents and use different vocabulary for certain words.
also miles is “nyourican” - a puerto rican native to new york - while his mom is directly from the island, so there are differences there, too, because his spanish is more influence by new york english. 
here’s some good references that aren’t google translate (which usually pulls from spain, a country that speaks vastly differently from latin america)
SpanishDict
WordReference
here have some random videos on different slang/spanish accents:
Puerto Rico
Mexico (1) (2)
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in spanish most words are gendered, so most feminine words end in a and masculine/gender neutral words end in o. adding ito/ita makes something cuter, smaller and more affectionate.
spanish nicknames that aren’t “mi amor”
“querido/a” - darling
“cariño” - dear (always masculine regardless, of who its being said to)
“mi princesa/príncipe” - my prince/princess
“mi rey/reina” - my king/queen
“papí/mamí” - can be used in any way; romantic, sexual, familial for one’s parent or child, or just platonically
“tesoro” - treasure
also spanish is a language that uses adjectives as terms of affection both cute ones and ones that might sound insensitive in english
gordo (fat), flaco (skinny), negro (black), blanco (white), linda (pretty), bella (beautiful), morena (brown skin), etc.
and like most languages that are not english, spanish has multiple ways of saying i love you.
“te amo” - romantic
“te quiero” - familial, platonic (although there’s nothing wrong with using it romantically)
see also:
te adoro - i adore you
te deseo - i want you
te necesito - i need you
 and, of course, they can vary regionally too.
please use this because i have read a lot of really well written things that take me out of it because the use of spanglish is terrible. don’t just go on your presumptions that spanish/spanglish works in the same way that english does.
buena suerte, gringos.
- signed your friendly neighborhood afro-latina
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So this is a weird ask but I figured an Actual Welsh Person would be the person to go to, and you've been pretty gung-ho about the language thing. So I hope I'm not bothering you with this.
Is there a cultural consensus on foreigners learning Welsh? I'm American and I don't have a single shred of Welsh ancestry. My family is historically German, and we've been here since the English Colony days, so it honestly seems really weird even to try to claim some tie to German heritage.
Anyway, my point is, I have absolutely zero legitimate claim to the Welsh language. I don't plan to travel to Wales in the foreseeable future. I have no reason to learn Welsh except that it sounds pretty and I enjoy a challenge.
Putting aside the issue of "lmao it's gonna be stupid difficult to learn an endangered language if you don't have anyone to speak it with" (I have a loose plan for dealing with that, and the experience of learning two languages to "can read most novels without needing the dictionary" level without anyone to speak them with in person already) entirely, do you reckon it's okay for me to study Welsh? I know Americans are really, really bad about just kinda assuming the whole world belongs to us, and I'm trying not to do that here. Especially because Welsh IS endangered.
I imagine your average Welsh person probably doesn't care what some random American does. But like, for people who care about the language...Would it be considered disrespectful or overstepping for me to study it? I don't expect you to speak for the entire country, of course, but I respect your opinion and I feel like you'd have a grasp on what the general feeling towards a foreigner like me might be.
Thanks for your time.
I honestly, truly, do not understand how the discussion around cultural appropriation has been twisted in the cultural zeitgeist to such an extent that people now feel anxiety about learning other languages.
This is not a personal attack on you, Anon - the gods only know that you clearly care and want to do the right thing, and that's beautiful and wonderful and also I will come back to extolling your personal virtues at the end of this post, so stay tuned. But I do want to take a moment here to talk about the broader issue at play, which I have seen echoed multiple times elsewhere, because fuck me what are we doing to ourselves.
Learn. Languages.
That is what languages are for! To be used for communication. If you don't learn languages, you are forcing everyone else to use yours. How have we somehow, as a culture, twisted that into being the less selfish option? How have we done that? I posted my favourite Welsh idiom recently, and someone reblogged it and wrote in the tags that they loved the idiom and would start using it, but they would do so in English because their "Welsh pronunciation would make their Welsh grandmother spin in her grave."
What kind of mental gymnastics is that?
How the fuck do you twist it so badly that you think taking a Welsh idiom for your own and exclusively using it in English is less offensive than saying it in Welsh but maybe a bit wrong? I've literally had people proclaim to me that they're learning Welsh on Duolingo but they never speak it because they're too self-conscious, and they tell me this not to highlight a massive flaw in themselves that they need to work on, but as though I'm supposed to pat them on the head and thank them for... still making me speak English to them.
There was that post where a Deaf blogger received an anonymous ask saying learning sign language is cultural appropriation, as though Deaf people haven't been calling for Sign to be taught in schools. As though a Deaf person being entirely isolated in everyday hearing society unless they have an interpreter with them is less offensive than a hearing person being able to use BSL.
Like, these are not sacred or religious languages. The purpose of Welsh or BSL or what have you is not to perform the Eleusinian mysteries. It's a living everyday language, same as English -
Except it's not the same as English. As Anon here so rightly points out, Welsh is endangered. That means we are desperate for people to learn it. That's how it will survive. That's how we reversed it from 'dying language' to 'living language', in fact - we managed to get lots of people to learn it. You know what is a threat, though? People not learning it because, like poor Anon here, they've been somehow convinced by Western society that you're only allowed to learn languages if you personally have a historic or cultural connection to them that you can prove via six forms of ID and a letter of recommendation from a druid. Or people never using it because they're too embarrassed to try and risk losing face by getting it wrong, or maybe sounding a bit silly, and thus forcing us to use English anyway. Those are threats.
Anon. Listen to me, feel the sincerity of my words: we adore you. We adore you. You cannot imagine how appreciated it is when someone learns Welsh. You cannot imagine how touched we are that you wanted to, that you tried, that you respected us enough and considered us valid enough that you made the effort. Our closest neighbours are the very people who are still trying to stamp out Welsh to this very day. Do you know the number 1 reaction I get, by a country mile, when I tell English people that I speak Welsh? It's some variant on a scoff, and the sentiment "Why? What's the point? Bit useless, isn't it?"
By a country mile. That's the reaction I expect, and brace for, and is overwhelmingly what I get.
So when someone who isn't Welsh actually chooses to learn Welsh?
Imagine what that feels like! To go from not-even-hidden disgust, from outright mockery and often active suppression campaigns, to a foreigner earnestly telling me that they love and respect my language so much they're trying to learn it. Imagine how that feels.
Please learn Welsh. Please learn it. We will love you for it. We will build you a statue. We will bake little Welshcakes with your face on in icing sugar. We will write you poems in complex rhyme. We'll name an Eisteddfod prize after you. We'll name at least, like, three sheep after you. Thank you, thank you so much for even wanting to learn. You're a delight and a marvel and a wonder. Your hair looks great today, as it does all days. You're a strong, independent human being of immense wisdom and compassion. If this were a Welsh myth you'd be a wise salmon the heroes came to for advice. What a fantastic human.
The welcome awaits if you choose to learn
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holylulusworld · 3 months
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TOL - Like a virgin (1) - Bucky Barnes
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Summary: You need money. Hansen’s agency offers the right kind of trade.
Pairing: DBF!Bucky Barnes x Virgin!Reader
Characters: Lloyd Hansen, unnamed other reader (Hansen’s girl)
Warnings: money problems, sex for money, selling your virginity, blindfolding, sex with a stranger, groping, oral (fem rec), fingering, teasing, dirty talk, loss of virginity, slow sex, smut, unprotected sex, possessive Bucky, undefined age gap, dad’s best friend trope, Lloyd being Lloyd, language, mentions of past death of a loved one, fluff
A/N: This story is part of my: Traders of love (lust) masterlist
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A/N2: It's also a request fill for my 16.666 followers celebration masterlist. Sorry, this took me so long. I'm working on all the requests left for this celebration.
Words: 3,9 k
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“Do you know what you get yourself into if you sign this contract?” Lloyd Hansen, the devil with blue eyes asks.
“I need to money and uh…I tried anything else. I worked my ass off and even sold my car. It’s no use,” you exhale deeply to calm your racing heart. “The debts are eating me alive, and the only thing left that I could sell is my…virginity.”
He watches you squirm in your seat, amused, and aroused at the same time. “Aw, you’re a cute little cupcake. I’d love to have a taste of you myself, but I don’t shit where I eat – you know.”
Lloyd cocks a brow when you reread the standard contract he handed to you. “So, you will put me on your website and your customers will buy me?” You blink a few times to not cry. This feels so surreal and wrong. How did you stoop so low that you sold your body to a stranger?
“Kinda,” Lloyd gets up from his chair to show you his iPad. “We don’t sell you off to a random douche. I don’t want a cute muffin like you to end up under a sick bastard. All my clients are gentlemen.”
You nod slowly and try to remember every detail he tells you. “Okay.”
“You can choose ten out of my clients and, if you want to, a wild card.” Lloyd hands you the tablet. “If you choose only ten out of my clients one of them will have the honor to fuck you first.”
You fight the urge to scrunch your nose up. “What’s the wild card?” You look up from the iPad to meet Lloyd’s eyes.
“If you choose ten men and the wild card, you will get more money,” he explains. “The start offering will be one million dollars. You’ll get six hundred thousand dollars, and I’ll arrange everything for your safety.”
You gasp loudly. This amount of money would save you and allow you to live a better life. You don’t care Lloyd will have almost half of the money. He provides the hotel suite and will make sure that you’ll come home safely.
“The men will attend an online auction. They will bid on you. If you get lucky, they will pay more than one million bucks.”
“Wow!” You exclaim. Even if it’s the worst thing you’ll ever do, this arrangement will help move on from your past and pay your debts.
“Now, I’ll tell you about the wild card,” Lloyd sits next to you. “The wild card is special. You cannot choose this man, but you’ll get two hundred and fifty thousand bucks more. No matter who wins the auction. You’ll get eight hundred and fifty thousand bucks.”
“He’s not a creep, right? I don’t want my first time to be with someone hurting me or ignoring my safe word,” you wring your hands.
“The wild cards are my special clients. These men have my trust, sweetness,” Lloyd says. “The inner circle of my organization. It consists of ten men. You will find none of them in my files.”
“I could need the extra money,” you ponder. “You promise that they are not crazy or shit?”
“I’m the craziest guy in this organization,” he flashes you a smile. “And you are not scared of me, right?”
“You’re intimidating,” you shyly admit as you glance at Lloyd. “But you didn’t hurt me or scare me. You were nice.”
“Hah, did ya hear that, sunshine?” Lloyd yells, making you flinch. The door immediately flies open, and his assistant walks inside. “See, she thinks I’m nice.”
“Yeah, because she doesn’t know you like I do,” she puts her hands on her hips and glares at Lloyd. “Sweetie don’t let him talk you into this wild card shit. His buddies are the worst, and he’s the king of shit!”
“Darling don’t be rude,” he gets up to wrap his arms around her waistline. She squirms in his hold, giggling while pushing against his shoulders. “Give your man a kiss.”
“Not until you get rid of that mustache!”
“You love the mustache. It makes your clit all tingly when I go down on you,” he steals a kiss, and gropes her plump ass. “If not for my new client, I’d fuck you right here and now to put a little Lloyd inside of you.”
“You’ll take care of the sweet girl first. You better not pressure her into this shit,” she grunts and pushes Lloyd off her. “I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
She walks back outside and closes the door with a loud thud.
“A hell of a woman,” he hums and adjusts his pants. “I found her—” Lloyd clears his throat. “Never mind. That’s a story to tell later.”
“Can you tell me what the men will expect? I mean, aside from having sex with me.”
Lloyd smirks. “You don’t have to worry about kinky shit. The contract includes vaginal sex  - missionary, or doggy style. Maybe a blow job. Protection is a must. If you want it to be pleasurable for you too, play with your pussy, or think of something nice.”
“I’d imagine Bucky,” you blur out. “I—fuck.” You curse when Lloyd cocks a brow. “He’s my dad’s best friend, and a little older than me. Not a gramps or something.”
“Bucky, huh?” He nods thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting name.”
“It’s a nickname,” you hastily say. “His real name is James Buchanan Barnes.” You swoon now. “He never looked at me twice, but if I want to get off, I always imagine him.”
“As long as you don’t moan his name, I don’t care what you do to get into the mood,” Lloyd says, but there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite put a finger on. “Back to the options. Wild card yes or no?”
You look at the iPad again. What is one more stranger, right? “Yes.”
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“Barnes,” Lloyd grins like the devil. “Hey, no swear words, sunshine. I got a nice little deal for you.” He grunts and mutters into the phone. “Would you just listen for a moment? A nice little bird came to me. I think you know her…”
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“Y/N!” Your dad’s best friend jogs next to you. “Hey, long time no see.”
“Uh-hi,” you squeak when he wraps you in a hug. “Nice to see you, Bucky.”
“How have you been?” He releases you to lock you up and down. “You look a little stressed. Is everything alright? You know that you can always come to me. I’m like an uncle to you.”
“Uncle,” you wrinkle your nose. “Right.” You shake your head at the naughty thoughts wanting to force their way to the front of your mind. “I’m good. Really. Nothing to worry about.”
“You sure?” He presses on. “If you are scared to tell your dad, tell me. I won’t say a thing.”
“I said that I’m fine,” you snap at him as a woman gets out of his car and calls his name. “How about you go back to your arm candy and leave me alone? We haven’t heard of you for two years.”
You twirl around and storm off. You don’t need anyone to help you. Lloyd offered more money than you’ll need to pay the debts your dad left you when he passed away.
Bucky didn’t even know about it because he just doesn’t care…
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“Pumpkin,” Lloyd claps his hands as you walk inside the expensive penthouse suite. “You look stunning.” He grins as you squirm under his gaze.
He walks toward you to hand you the iPad. “The wild card won the auction,” he casually says. “I transferred the town hundred and fifty thousand bucks to your bank account. This is the point of no return. If you want out, say it now.”
“I know,” you released a shuddery breath. “I don’t want to do this, but I need the money. It’s one night with a guy you trust. So…let’s get this over with.”
“On the bed is something the wild card got for you. OH, and he wants you to put the blindfold on. It’s his special request,” Lloyd gently pats your shoulder. “I promise he’s a good guy, and won’t hurt you, pumpkin. Just remember the only two rules. Never ask why they pay you for sex, and, never let them do anything you don’t want to.”
“Thank you—” you close your eyes and take deep breaths. “I can do this. Please leave me alone now. I need to get ready.”
“If he crosses a line,” Lloyd says. “You say Lloyd, and I take the door down.”
“What? I don’t understand.” You furrow your brows.
“Just say Lloyd.” He whispers in your ear.
“Lloyd,” you say, and the lights in the room turn red. An alarm shrills and you need to cover your ears. “Oh…wow.”
“See, I take care of my girls. Do not let him gag you, though,” he warns. “If he tries anything you don’t agree to, yell my name and I’m there in a split-second.”
You nod and give Lloyd a shy smile. “Thank you.”
“I make money with my girls. I don’t want them to get hurt or worse,” he says. “I’m not a saint or a good guy. But no one hurts my girls.”
You watch him leave the room and release another shuddery breath.
He’s right. This is it. The point of no return…
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The gift from the wild card is a silky nightie dress in your favorite color. Midnight blue. It has a plunging back and lace-lined cups. It fits you like a second skin.
You close your eyes and count to ten to calm your racing heart as you put the blindfold on. It’s the wild card’s special wish, and you don’t want to piss him off right away.
Maybe the blindfold will make things easier. You can imagine any face, while the stranger is inside of you.
“You look breathtakingly beautiful.” You shudder as his voice is deep and rough. He entered the room without making a noise, and now he’s already so close you feel his breath fan over your neck. “I see you are wearing my gift.”
“Yes…Sir…” You breathlessly reply. His hands ghost over your arms, touching you gently. “Or do you want me to call you something else?”
“Hmm…” He hums. “We will see, doll.” You whimper at the pet name. “Can I call you doll? Is that alright with you?” His lips press against your neck, he nips at the sensitive spot behind your ear. “I need you to answer me.”
“Yeah, that’s alright with me,” you are already enchanted by the stranger. His scent is intoxicating, and his voice goes straight to your core.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good, doll,” he wraps one arm around your waistline to bring you close to his body. His chest is bare, and you feel his skin pressed against yours. “I dreamed of doing this with you.”
“You did?” You purr and lean your head against his shoulder. “What do you want to do with me?”
“You’ll see,” he chuckles as you press your butt into his crotch. “You’re eager to get me going, huh? Don’t worry. I’m already so hard for you it hurts.”
He releases you and steps away to admire your wrecked state. You’re a panting mess, and your legs quiver. “Beautiful and so responsive.” He’s back on you to slide the thin straps of the nightie down your shoulders. The stranger nips at your neck, leaving little love bites on his way. “I can’t wait to have you.”
“You have me,” you move your hand behind you, blindly grasping for his hair. He’s a stranger but feels so good against you. “I want you to have me.”
“I know, doll,” he whispers in your ear while shoving the nightie down your shoulders. The fabric drops to the ground and pools around your ankles. “I love how you feel against me. I bet you feel even better around me.”
His hands cup your breasts. One warm and soft, the other cold and a little rougher. He gropes your soft flesh and pinches your nipples. This stranger plays with your body and pulls all the right strings.
You don’t have to imagine someone else. His lips nipping at your earlobe, and his hands, those skilled tools press moans and whimpers out of you. “Sir…”
“It’s alright, doll. Be as vocal as you want to,” he smirks against your skin. “Relax and let me take good care of you.”
“Yes—” you hiss when he meaningly tugs at your nipples. “Ouch.”
“You are a big girl and can take it, baby doll,” he grinds into you to rub his aching cock against your butt. “I bet your pretty cunt is wet for me.”
Your voice fails. He’s moving one hand between your legs and pinches your clit through your soaked panties. “I knew it.” He teasingly pinches your clit, igniting another spark deep within you. “You’re mine now. Only mine. After tonight, you’ll never want another man. Say it!”
His other hand rips your panties off of your body, taking you by surprise. You squeak and giggle as he twirls you around. “You’re all I imagined you’d be,” he cups your face and presses his lips to yours.
You’ve been kissed before – but not like this. His lips are soft and tender, but the kiss gets heated when his hands move to your ass to hoist you up.
You end up in his arms and sling your legs and arms around his body out of instinct.
“Your lips taste like heaven.” He purrs while walking toward the bed. “I bet your sweet pussy tastes like sin.” You end up on the soft mattress, the stranger on top of you.
He kisses you again, slowly, and sensually this time. “I’m gotta have a taste, doll.” You wish you could watch him kiss his way down your body. It feels like his lips and hands caress every inch of your body they can reach. “It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid.”
The stranger moves lower, kissing you right above your belly button. He moans against your skin, making you shiver at the slightest touch.
His hands move over your thighs, spreading them wide so he can settle between your legs.
“Let me have a taste of heaven,” he presses a searing kiss to your pussy. “I’ve got you, doll.”
You shudder feelings his nose brushes your clit. “So pretty down here too,” he murmurs against you. His breath tickles your folds, leaving you wanting more. “Shhh…” He shushes you. “I only want to eat this sweet cunt out.”
He spreads your pussy lips, to look at your clit. “Ah…S-ir.” You stammer. “What are you doing?”
“Did no man ever put his mouth on you?” He looks up at you from between your legs, groaning loudly when you shake your head. “Good. I’m your first for everything then.”
Your mouth falls open. Why would he want to do such a thing? Isn’t this night all about him, not you? “Why?”
“I love eating pussy, doll,” he laughs. “And I want you slippery wet so I can shove my dick right into your tight little hole.”
You grab your tits, squeezing your flesh to do anything but lie there and wait for the stranger to rule your body.
He teases your pearl with the tip of his tongue, eager to please you. A shudder runs through you. You are so lost in his touch that you nearly forget this is about him and that he paid you to touch you.
This is not love-making, but a business transaction. “Please just fuck me…”
“Not yet,” he slaps your pussy lips. “I want you to be a good girl and let me enjoy every moment. “This includes tasting your cunt.”
“Oh-“ It never crossed your mind that a man could be interested in eating you out before getting off. “Be my guest.” You sass and spread your legs wider. “I’m on the menu tonight.”
“That you are,” he kisses the inside of your left thigh, caressing the soft skin with his lips and tongue. “But only for me.” He turns his attention toward your right thigh.  
He wraps his arms around your legs and pulls you closer to his mouth. “Fuck, you smell so good, doll.” You gasp the moment he licks up your sex. It’s a new sensation and you already love it. “Use my face, come on.”
You bite your lower lip. Can you do this? Lloyd said this is all about the man’s fantasy, but he wants to give you pleasure too.
“Fuck,” you nod and start grinding your pussy against his mouth, hoping to get more of this new feeling. “Please.”
“Soon, baby doll,” he purrs and flicks his tongue to play with your little nub. You wiggle on the bed, grinding as he uses his mouth to send sparks of pleasure through your body. You don’t think, just feel.
You whimper and moan hearing him groan against you. He throws your left leg over his shoulder, spreading you wide as he teases your soaked hole with the tip of his index finger. “Oh God, yes. Please just put it inside,” you become impatient. “Fuck…please.”
He laughs but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pushes one finger inside, curling his digit inside of you. “Relax, doll. I’m gonna give you my cock soon enough.”
“Y-es…p-lease,” you can’t think straight. Your body is on fire, and you need release, or you’ll lose your mind. “Please I want you to…”
“Baby,” he purrs while slowly starting to fuck you with his finger. “Soon…I’ve been waiting to have you for so long.”
He adds another finger, now pressing his fingertips against your sweet spot. “Fuck,” you exclaim loudly. “Ah, there…I need… I want…”
“No,” you don’t get to cum. He scissors you open, ignoring that you beg and plead. “Not yet. You’ll cum on my cock only. I want to feel you fall apart for the first time while I’m inside of you.”
“Fuck!”
“Oh baby doll,” he coos when you sniffle, and slam your fists into the mattress. “I don’t want to be cruel, only to make it easier for you to take me.”
“Please, I only want to feel you,” you hold out your hands, sniffling louder. “I need you to do it now before I get scared.”
“Shit,” you feel his fingers slip out of you. He crawls up your body and kisses you slowly. “Baby doll, tell me if you want me to stop. We don’t have to do this.”
“You pai—” He silences you with his lips and makes you forget that you are only here for him to get what he paid for. “I want you.” You don’t know why, but it’s true. All you want is to feel him inside of your body.
“Are you sure?” He asks against your lips. “Baby doll?”
“Yes,” you blindly grasp for him. “Please fuck me. I don’t want to wait any longer.” You don’t tell him that the man you wanted to be your first would never even look at you twice.
“You don’t have to beg me.” He angles his hips to run the tip of his cock up and down your folds. “I’ll give it to you.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, and a high-pitched shriek escapes your throat feeling his length slide slowly into you. He stills his hips, groaning loudly as your walls strain against his intrusion.
“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby doll.” He buries his face in your neck, murmuring your name as he moves back and forth, always pushing a little deeper. “Open up to me, pretty doll.”
It hurts a little, and you hide your face in his shoulder, whimpering any time he tilts his hips. “I know, baby doll. It will feel good soon. Let me just,” he breathlessly whispers in your ear. “I’m gonna make love to you, Y/N.”
You bite his shoulder when he slides all in with the next thrust. A whimper escapes your lips, and you claw at his back. “Shhh…you are doing so good for me, baby. I’m proud of you, my sweet princess.”
He wraps one arm around you and removes the blindfold with one swift motion. You gasp and dig your nails into his back. “Bucky?” You can’t help but whimper his name. “What?”
“I couldn’t let you do this. I wanted you for so long.” He claims your lips in a soft kiss. “You refused to take my help so I…”
“It’s you,” you cling to Bucky. “Not some stranger…it’s you…” you sniffle. “You’re here…”
“Yeah,” he breathes against your lips. “Do still want to…”
You wrap your legs around his waistline. “Yes…hell yes…” You grunt. “Please don’t stop now. We can’t stop now.”
He nuzzles his face in your neck and digs his knees into the mattress. You melt into his arms, knowing it’s not a stranger, but the man you adored and loved for years.
“We already broke all the rules, Y/N,” he slowly starts rocking his hips. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Bucky curses as you claw on his back. “My doll.”
He’s pushing harder into you with every thrust. It doesn’t matter that you feel like you are in a limbo of pleasured pain, or that you forgot the condom. All you are capable of is to stare up at Bucky as he takes you apart.
Your body belongs to him and opens up to Bucky like a flower finally deciding to bloom. Your core burns with desire for more of him. “Please.”
“I’ve got you, Y/N,” he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, causing you to cry out loudly. Something drops to the ground in the room next door, but you don’t care.
You rock your body in sync with Bucky, urging him on to claim you, and your whole being. Even if you should be mad at him for tricking you, you can’t. Not when he pushes you over the edge, his name on your lips nor when he spills into you, cursing your name.
“Baby,” he worriedly looks down at you. You are panting heavily and are unable to open your eyes. “Y/N, are you alright?”
“Yeah…I’m good…” 
Bucky slowly pulls out to lie next to you. He opens his arms and watches you lie on his chest.
“Why did you never come back?” You run your hand over his sweaty chest. “Bucky?”
“Your dad found out that I had a thing for his beloved daughter,” he runs his hand over your head. “I’m sorry. He left me no choice but to stay away from you. I had to keep my distance.”
“You could’ve come to his funeral,” you sniff. “Why did you leave me all alone?”
“I had problems with the law, and I was in the middle of a divorce. You didn’t need a drunk wreck longing for you,” he whispers. “I had to wait until I’m better and then Hansen called, telling me about your problems.”
“That fucker,” you grumble. “I knew he was going to trick me!”
“Don’t worry, baby doll,” Bucky softly says. “I paid all your dues before coming here. I just couldn’t resist you any longer. I had to have you.”
He lifts his head to look you in the eyes. “Can you forgive me, Y/N?”
“I’ll consider forgiving you if you explain everything to me later. Like – how do you know Lloyd Hansen? And what is going on with his assistant?”
“You will get to know everything.” He pecks your lips. “For now, all you need to know is that I love you…always have…”
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christhopersturniolo · 2 months
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୨ HOCKEY PROBLEMS ୧
summary: you have been having some problems in your relationship with Chris, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t loves you.
notes: this is my first time writing a fanfic, I've always wanted to create one since 2020. english isn't my first language, it's probably not very detailed and there might be some mistakes, so don't expect too much lol. but give me feedback tho, l'd love to know what you think!
warnings: sexual assault, cussing, fluff, about three thousand words I think.
୨୧
My relationship with my boyfriend Chris is not the best. Well, at least, not now.
Lately we’ve been arguing all day long over stupid things, like who gets the last slice of pizza, or who gets the last word in a discussion. And it always ends in the same way. Silent treatment, from both sides. But it's not like Chris or I enjoy it. Most nights, I hear him in the bathroom, where he spend hours in tears. It’s horrible and makes me feel like a piece of shit. Hearing him cry only adds to my own feelings of guilt.
And how do we make things up? Sex, over and over. He would fuck the attitude out of me if he had to.
Me and Chris made a pinky promise that I would never miss any of his Hockey games. And I never did, cause i know how much my presence is important to him. And especially cause we are always in good terms the days before any of his games, but not today, we just argued again about nothing, we haven't talked for the past two days.
Nick and Matt, Chris's brothers, usually text me and offer to pick me up for Chris's games, but this time, their texts never came. It’s like they knew how our relationship was going. Chris definitely told them something.
Now you see myself driving to the arena where he plays in, the game is about to start in 20 minutes, and with this traffic, I don’t know if I will be there in time.
Red sign for the past 5 minutes. I have cars in front of me, behind me and next to me. Fuck. I start getting anxious. My nerves are on edge. I bit my nails subconsciously, the habit I got from my dad. My leg starts shaking. I can’t mess up things even more, I gotta be there, I have to be there.
After what feels like an eternity stuck in traffic, the car in front of me finally starts moving. I let out a sigh of relief as I find a parking spot. After that, I enter the venue where Chris plays (Which wasn’t that big, cause he plays in a small team in our city.)
Before taking a seat I scan the crowd anxiously, searching for any familiar faces, no one, I can’t find anyone, not even his two brothers. “Fuck it” I mumble to myself and I just get in a seat with some random people next to me.
The game is about to start, the crowd is already cheering. The players are drinking water and getting ready to get in the rink. My eyes examine each one of them, looking for Chris, number three. He was with a serious face. ‘Are he’s eyes red?’ I think to myself as I narrow my eyes, my vision is bad as shit, but I can tell he’s eyes are all puffy. He has some big dark circles underneath his pretty blue eyes, he looks fucking exhausted, It was evident that he was crying just now.
The players finally begin to take to the ice, their skates gliding across the surface as they prepare for the game to begin.
On Chris's team, there are six talented players, used to winning every single game. However, this time, they were against a really good team. Chris hated that team. I hated that team. Well, not really the team, but one of the players: Cam, Cameron.
Cam is a completely fucking jerk, in college he would always try to hit on me, but I’ve never really went with his face, what would get on his nerves, especially when I started dating Chris. It went to the point where he would force me to have intimate things with him. He was the worst human alive, and I would do anything to see him dead.
FLASHBACK
I just had PE, finding myself alone in the girls locker room as I change clothes. The sound of the front door opening echoed, followed by quiet footsteps creeping up behind me, sending shivers down my spine. I try to ignore it.
As I slipped my shirt back on, I felt two hands grip the sides of my hips, and a warm breath brushed against my neck. I freeze for two seconds. I know this is not Chris. Without thinking, I instinctively push the hands away and I turn around quickly, only to come face to face with Cameron.
I glare at him, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. His smirk widens as he takes a step closer, invading my personal space. "What's the rush, sweetheart?" He whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance.
I take a step back feeling the wall behind me getting closer "What are you even doing here? Get the fuck away from me, Cameron" I say firmly, trying to sound like i’m not scared, but the reality is that I’m pissing my pants.
He chuckles like he’s making fun of me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Or what? You'll tell your precious boyfriend Chris?" He teases, moving closer until I can feel his breath on my face. grabbing my waist and pinning them against the wall. "Come on, babe, you know you want it as much as I do.." he affirms, leaning in to kiss me, touching his lips on mines.
“Get the fuck away!” I whisper yell as i try to punch him away but he grabs my wrists. I struggle against his hold, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin, definitely leaving red marks.
I don’t know what to do. I can’t move. I start panicking. This is my end.
Tears blur my vision as I plead "Cameron, stop!" My voice trembles with fear as he kisses me, his lips rough and demanding against mine. Each kiss is a painful reminder of my vulnerability. Each kiss feels like a violation. I feel dirty, tainted by his touch everywhere in my body. A wave of nausea churns in the pit of my stomach as I try to move him away from me.
"Stop fucking fighting, you are not getting away from me" He murmurs against my lips "You deserve this, you want this.” I try to move as he keeps pinning me "You think I don’t see the eyes you give me when I walk by? Huh slut?" He scoffs, his hot breath against my face. "You were begging for this."
“I wasn’t begging for any of this. I never gave him any ‘eyes,’ he’s fucking delusional!” I think to myself, but my words remain trapped in my throat, suffocated.
As his lips travel down to my neck, leaving a trail of unwanted kisses, I can’t do anything more than start crying and screaming, kicking my legs and arms.
I never went back to those lockers again.
END OF THE FLASHBACK
I hated him so fucking much, and Chris did even more. And now, they are about to compete against each other.
The moment Chris stepped onto the rink, I could see his eyes looking for someone known on the crowd. Desperately, I raised my hand and waved, hoping he would spot me. And he did. His face automatically softened into a gentle smile, erasing some of the tension that had been weighing on me, but he was still with his tired eyes.
The game started with an intensity that matched the tension in the air. Both teams were determined to win. Cameron eyes were burning with rage. At this point, they weren’t competing as a team, it wasn’t about the game, it was about their personal life.
As the game progressed, the rivalry between them two escalated. They began to argue on the ice, each vying for control of the puck with increasing aggression.
Chris managing to gain possession of the puck and score two goals in less than five minutes. But Cam, folded by his own anger, refused to back down. Without thinking he charged towards him at full speed. Cameron swung his stick, causing Chris to trip and fall hard onto the ice.
“What the fuck is he doing?” I say out loud as I get up from my seat to get a better view. Chris remained on the ground for what felt like an eternity, clearly in pain. Every player on the ice stopped and looked around confused without knowing what to do, but not Cameron. He keeps going with the puck in direction to make a goal, with a visible smile on his lips. But then he notices how everyone really stopped and he slows down too, annoyed, not showing any regret.
The thing is, my boyfriend is in a fetal position on the ice, unable to move and no one is doing anything about it? That’s not happening, not with Chris. Without a second thought, I get up from my seat, whispering apologies to those I brushed past as I made my way to the rink. Ignoring the stares and comments from the crowd, I stepped onto the ice, my focus solely on reaching Chris. I get in the rink. I don’t give a shit about who’s watching me.
Kneeling beside Chris. His nose was bleeding, he looked pale and disoriented. Gently, I placed a hand on his shoulder, my voice trembling with concern. "Chris" I whisper, my voice shaking "Are you okay? Please look at me..” I beg in a desperate tone
Chris struggled to respond, his voice barely above a whisper as he fought through the pain "Y-Yeah.. I’m fine.." His eyes half-closed in discomfort.
Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention, and I glanced up to see some of the players from both teams getting around us, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, a few of them hurried off to get help, while others stood by, unsure of what to do.
“Is he okay?” One of Chris's teammates asked as he knelt beside me, his voice filled with worry.
My anxiety spiked at the sight of Chris's condition, and I couldn't help but let my frustration show. "No, he’s not!" I replied, my voice unintentionally louder than intended. "Don’t you guys have nurses or some kind of medical staff here?!"
The teammate glanced back at me, his expression uncertain. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure they're on their way, don’t worry, he will be fine” He said sounding unsure.
I gently place Chris head on my lap, whispering sweet and calming words on his ear while we wait for someone help us. What I was saying was comforting me more than Chris.
Finally the arena's medical staff arrived, urging us to clear the area around Chris. They place him on a stretcher and wheeling him out of the rink. As they took Chris away, I followed closely behind them, my steps quickening to keep pace with their hurried movements. "Hey, excuse me," I called out to one of the workers, my voice tinged with desperation "Is it okay if I stay with him?" But they seemed way too focused on their task, ignoring me completely as they rushed Chris to a small emergency room they had here, leaving me behind on the hallway, my heart pounded with worry and frustration. But before I could even process what was happening, a familiar voice cut through the silence. I turn around,
Cameron.
"Look who it is" He says, his gaze fixated on me with an unsettling intensity. "Never thought I'd see you here, playing the concerned girlfriend” He chuckles.
My blood boiled at his words, the memories of his unwanted advances and aggressive behavior flooding back with nauseating clarity. "You're sick, Cameron." My voice trembling with rage “You can’t even stand losing a fucking game, you are insane.” I stay some seconds in silence before talking again "You better stay the hell away from me and Chris."
Cameron's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he reveled in my discomfort. "Or what?" He teases, taking a step closer "You gonna hit me? Huh?” He talks in a mocking way
I raised my hand and delivered a good slap on his left cheek, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. "I fucking hate you!" I yell, my voice trembling with rage as I glared at him with undisguised contempt.
Before Cameron could react, the sound of approaching footsteps coming in our attention, and I glanced up to see some of Chris's teammates rushing towards us, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.
"What's going on here?" The same blonde guy with a four in his shirt asks, his voice tinged with urgency as he eyed Cameron with suspicion.
"Nothing," he muttered, attempting to regain his composure, "I was just.. checking on Chris. But the workers said we have to wait, and unfortunately, I've got somewhere else to be." Cameron lies, fuck he’s good at lying.
He gets closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “I hope he gets better” He said in a fake nice tone, like he means it, I move his hand away from me, making him get slightly angry again, he leaves. I watch him go, feeling a sense of relief wash over me knowing that he was finally out of here.
Turning back to Chris's teammate, I say “Anyways..” I take a deep breath “I will just wait here until they say something”
The blonde one nods understanding. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me” He replies, his voice filled with sympathy “So, the game was canceled, and we got shit to do, so we can’t really wait here”
“Yeah sure, no problem, I understand” I respond, I try to sound so nice as he is sounding “I'll make sure Chris texts you guys after he leaves the room.”
Chris's teammate nodded appreciatively and they all began to leave to the same direction as Cameron. I sit into a chair next to the door where Chris was, my mind racing thinking about Chris.
Some good ten minutes after, one of the workers is leaving the room, I look up at him, catching his attention. “Excuse me,” I begin, my voice laced with anticipation “can I see Chris?”
He nods, offering a small smile. “Of course, go ahead” He replies kindly before disappearing down the hallway.
Before I enter the room, I take a few deep breaths to control my anxiety. Knocking gently on the door, I slowly open it. He was sitting in a long bench with elastic bandage on his ankle and wrist. Chris's eyes light up at the moment he sees me and a warm smile spreads across his face.
“Shit Chris, I just slapped Cameron in the face!” I say as I close the door behind me. Chris immediately starts laughing. his laugh is contagious. I sit down next to him. “You did not” He keeps laughing
“What’s so funny? I’m being serious” I chuckle, feeling the tension ease from my mind as Chris's laughter fills the room.
"I'm sorry, babe" he says between laughs "But when was that?”
“Literally like fifteen minutes ago! Gosh he’s so fucking annoying! And did you see the way he literally made you fall on purpose? I could break his face right now” I say in a dramatic tone, making him laugh even more.
“Anyways he doesn’t matter..” I look around thinking about what to say “So what did the nurses say?”
Chris's laughter subsides as he leans back against the bench, his expression growing more serious “Nothing much.. I just sprained my foot and my wrist, but nothing much”
“Nothing much?!” I say slightly shocked with his words.
Chris chuckles softly, shaking his head at my reaction. "Okay, maybe it's a bit more than 'nothing much,' but I'll survive" He says with a reassuring smile, though I can see the pain behind his eyes.
I gently reach his injured hand, my thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "I'm just glad it's nothing too serious," I say softly, my voice filled with genuine concern. "But still, I can't believe Cameron did that to you! He's such a pussy!" My last sentence makes Chris laugh again.
As I watch him, a sense of relief washes over me, knowing that despite everything, we are still able to find humor in the situation.
Some minutes talking until the silence fills back the room. We are definitely both thinking about the argument we had days ago, cause we didn’t talked since.
“I.. I wasn’t expecting for you to watch the game today” Chris says slightly looking down.
I stay in silence for some seconds “Listen, Chris" I begin, my voice soft but determined "About the arguments we've been having lately.. I know things haven't been the best.. But..” I sigh “But I still care about you, and I always will.”
Chris looks up at me, his eyes softening with emotion as he listens to my words. "I care about you too" He says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I hate that we've been arguing so much, especially over stupid shit.. I just.. I don't want to lose you.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I reach out to gently cup his cheek. "You're not going to lose me, Chris." I assure him. My thumb brushing over his skin affectionately.
He gently buries his face on the crook of my neck, I lay my chin on the top of his head, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.
"I'm sorry for everything," Chris murmurs against my skin. "I don't want us to keep fighting like this."
Now I run my fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of peace settle over us. "I'm sorry too.." My voice sounding like a whisper. "Let's try to work through this together, okay?" He nods softly.
I kiss his head “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He answers quietly.
୨୧
hey, this is the end! i hope you have enjoyed it, if u saw any miss spelling or anything tell me in the comments, please.
also, i think it got kinda confusing cause i was using words on the past and in the present, but idk 😭😭
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supernovafics · 2 months
Note
Super random silly idea but for the I’ll be there for you universe I was thinking it would be so cute if reader and Steve chaperoned one of the kids school dances and got all dressed up for it :)
𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃
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"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist
pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 2.2k words
warnings: explicit language, fluff
summary: in which you and steve help chaperone a school dance for the kids
author's note: loved this request idea! thank you thank you !!
general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Spring 1986
Dustin suggested the idea only days before the dance, and even with the short notice you were still agreeing. And you were forcing Steve to agree too, even though he actually didn’t need that much convincing. 
You both thought that seeing all of the kids get dressed up and go to a school dance would be adorable, and chaperoning along with a handful of teachers and a few parents didn’t sound too bad. 
In the beginning of the night you were designated to punchbowl duty, and you and Steve stayed together until he was being pulled away to help fix a decoration that had fallen, and then he got roped into doing a bunch of other things. When you saw him helping the gym teacher move a table, your eyes met his and you gave him a sorry but encouraging smile. 
As the night started winding down, the punchbowl became empty— and since there was only an hour left of the dance, it would not be getting refilled— and you decided to simply linger on the sidelines, listening to the unfamiliar sounding pop songs and watching random kids have what looked like a good time dancing and talking. And then your gaze focused on the group of teens that you knew and loved; Will was talking animatedly about something and everyone else was smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying. 
You felt a pair of arms circle around you from behind, a touch that you immediately recognized as Steve’s. The feel of his warmth enveloping you in the simple embrace was entirely familiar and never failed to comfort you. 
“Hi,” He murmured in your ear. 
“Hi,” You said as you instinctually leaned into his touch. The heels you were wearing to match the formless of the night made it easy for him to lean his chin against your shoulder. “Glad to see that you’ve finally managed to get away from moving tables and fixing the ‘Spring Fling’ sign.” 
“I was almost forced to help fix one of the chairs that broke, but I made up an excuse about needing to use the bathroom, and I hope that he just does it without me or forgets about it.”
“Only one more hour until we can leave.” 
“And I can’t wait,” He told you and then his mouth was brushing right against your ear as he quietly said his next statement. “Mainly because I’m really excited to pull this dress off of you.”
His words sent something equivalent to a shiver down your spine and at first all you could do was smile shyly. 
From the second you were exiting your bedroom and Steve was seeing you for the first time that night, he was admiring and complimenting what you were wearing; a short sleeve cream-colored dress that subtly flared out at your waist and ended just a few inches above your knee. I need to get you out of this immediately, were his first words to you, and it was a demand that you wouldn’t have minded abiding by if you two weren’t already running late to the dance, so you instead quickly shut it down. 
“Shh, stop,” You whispered to him now, attempting to make your voice sound as serious as possible. “Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself for now, Harrington.”
He laughed at that and only pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head in response. 
The pop song that was playing switched to a slow one and everyone on the basketball court designated dance floor started pairing off. You smiled when you noticed Mike and El, and Lucas and Max joining the other pairs.
“They look really cute out there,” You said, leaning further into Steve and tilting your head to let it rest against his. “Reminds me of when we slow danced at our proms.” 
“Thinking about it now, it probably should’ve been so obvious that we were into each other then.”
You nodded and laughed a bit. “Very.”
Steve’s arms dropped from your waist and he instead grabbed one of your hands, and turned you so that you were facing him. “Come on, let’s walk around for a bit.”
You teasingly smiled up at him. “We’re supposed to be watching everyone. Y’know, chaperoning.”
“No one will notice if we’re gone for a few minutes,” He was already leading you out of the gym and you let him. 
Hand in hand, you two walked down one of the empty hallways, they were unfamiliar to you but the opposite to him. You could count on one hand how many times you had roamed the halls of Hawkins High School; each time it had mainly been to find a bathroom during one of Steve’s basketball games or swim meets. 
“Where was your locker?” You asked him, suddenly very curious about the mundane fact that you didn’t know the answer to.
Steve laughed a bit. “What?”
“Where was it? I’m just realizing that I don’t know that.”
“We went to different schools, so it makes sense why we wouldn’t know that about each other,” He said, but then still decided to answer your question. He turned a corner and led you down a different hallway, and then pointed to the clump of lockers at the end. “Mine was at the end.”
“What number?”
“224.” 
“Okay,” You nodded thoughtfully. “Got it.” 
Steve was simply smiling amusingly at you, and you knew that he probably thought you were at least a little bit insane for being so interested in this random fact. 
“What? This is important information to know just in case I ever have to give a speech about you or something,” You told him. “I’ll be able to say, Steve Harrington was a great best friend and awesome boyfriend. He had locker 224 for all four years of high school.”   
He laughed a little before leaning in to kiss you. It was quick and you were smiling into it and then up at him when he pulled back. 
“What was yours?” 
“165.” 
He nodded. “Okay, I’ll include that in my speech for you too.”
“Good,” You joked. “Actually, this information might be wedding vow material.” 
“Very, very true,” He responded, playfully smiling at you. 
Lightheartedly talking about the future— an inevitable engagement, wedding, marriage, etc.— had easily become a part of your and Steve’s banter. It was always spoken about jokingly, but it also felt obvious that neither of you entirely saw it as a joke. Because it did feel the tiniest bit real that eventually, one day, you two would get to that point— to the point of marriage, kids, and a kind of seriousness that warmed your heart and made you feel entirely at ease. You could so easily see yourself having that sort of life with Steve, and in some ways you already did have it. 
You gave his hand a light squeeze, and let that simple action say what you wouldn’t right then because you didn’t want to get super sentimental; although Steve always loved when you did and would only playfully make fun of you for doing so. He squeezed your hand back and then pulled your intertwined palms up to press a soft kiss to the back of yours, silently telling you that he understood you and your heart squeezed in response. 
Steve led you toward a random door at the end of a different hallway, and then he was letting go of your hand to pull the door open and let you in first. It was dark for the most part— the only light was coming from the bright streetlights that could be seen out the large windows— and neither of you made any attempt to find the light switch. You quickly noticed the many, many bookshelves and tables neatly scattered around the huge room. 
“The library?” You asked, turning to lean back against one of the empty tables and giving him an amused smile. “You wanna study, Steven?” 
He was quickly closing most of the distance between you two and his hands found your hips. “Nope, no studying.”  
“Okay,” You simply nodded and then easily pushed up onto the table. Steve immediately moved closer and settled between your now parted legs, which made you inwardly smile at his eagerness.
Your arms came up to loosely circle his neck and you were looking up at him for just the briefest of seconds before his mouth was hurriedly finding yours and your eyes were slipping shut. You were reminded of the first time this had ever happened, back in your bed at the cabin in Colorado, and you also thought about the second time, at home in the kitchen. Actually, anytime you kissed Steve like this you were reminded of those moments— the certainty you both felt, but there was still such a newness to it all. You adored that feeling, and you especially loved how it would always settle into something so comforting and familiar after only a few moments.
You were pulling away when you needed to catch your breath. Your eyes were still closed but you knew Steve well enough to know that his mouth would immediately find your neck, kissing your skin and teasingly sucking the sensitive spot right at the underside of your jaw. Any other time, you would've happily let him do it; in fact, you probably would’ve begged for it. But in this moment, your hands found his chest and stopped him because you didn’t want to get stuck with a hickey that you would have no way of covering up for the next hour. 
Steve laughed as he pressed a kiss against the side of your mouth. “I wouldn’t have left one this time. I promise.”
“I love you, but I don’t believe that.” 
He jokingly shook his head in disbelief and let out a playful scoff. “We’ve known each other for almost ten years, where’s the trust?”
You only shrugged in response and had to bite your lip to hold back the laugh that you wanted to let out. Steve easily read through the half-hearted shrug and instead of keeping the little game going, he poked your side, which did make you laugh. 
Him smiling at your laughter and the fond look on his face right then reminded you of an older time, a different time when he was obsessed with doing anything to make you laugh and you loved to do the same for him. A sort of competition formed during the summer before your Sophomore year of high school where you two kept count about how much you made the other person laugh. After barely a week, accurately keeping score became much harder than you both thought it would be so you two decided to end the game by simply calling it a tie— although Steve loved to say that it was him who, in fact, won. 
Abruptly thinking back to that memory and then being brought back to this moment also made you think of something else.
“Hey… Do you ever think that it was dumb of us to not start dating sooner?” Your gaze held his as the question left your lips. You weren’t entirely sure why it was on your mind right then. Maybe it was being in his old high school and peeking back into that life that made you feel a mix of nostalgic and a bit regretful. “Like, we could’ve been happier sooner or whatever if we realized years ago…” 
Steve shook his head first before pressing the softest kiss against your forehead. “I’ve thought about that too, but I honestly think it was meant to happen this way.”
You found yourself agreeing with the simplicity of his response. It was supposed to happen exactly like this— slowly, years and years worth of obliviousness and internal denials, and then it hitting you both so suddenly, all at once, and finally not wanting to shy away from it. 
“You’re right,” You told him and didn’t give him a chance to potentially say anything in response before you were pulling him back toward you and meeting his lips halfway. 
He squeezed your hips and pulled you to the edge of the table, keeping you impossibly close and you didn’t mind that at all, your own fingers hooked in the belt loops of his black pants in attempts to keep him close to you too. You even let his lips find your neck after a moment and trusted him that no hickeys would be left in his wake. Your fingers were itching to slowly unbutton the white shirt he was wearing or to let his hands loosen their grip on your hips and slip beneath your dress that now sat dangerously high on your thighs. You were really close to throwing rational thinking out of the window and letting both of those things happen, but you knew that you couldn’t. 
“We should probably head back to the gym,” You mumbled when minutes that only felt like seconds passed. You decided to let the logical side of your brain finally take over. “Before anyone notices we’re gone. Especially the kids. They’d have a field day with this one.”
Steve pulled away from your neck, lightly chuckling against your skin, and nodded. You fought the urge to simply bring his mouth back to yours in another languid and heart pounding kiss that would once again make you feel weak in the knees. 
“You’re right,” His hand was finding yours and lacing your fingers together and then he gave you a tiny hint of a smirk. “I really can’t wait to go home.”
You nodded immediately and smiled up at him. “Me too.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
let me know ur thoughts<333
(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)
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wolfish-chan · 3 months
Text
More of my batfam headcanons since you guys liked them
- After Dick moves out, Alfred finds Bruce in Dick’s old bedroom staring aimlessly
- Sometimes, especially in the beginning years as Batman, Bruce has days where he can’t stand to look in the mirror because those aren’t his eyes staring back at him — they’re Martha’s
- There’s a lullaby that all of the family knows because Alfred would sing it to them on their hardest nights, even when they were adults
- Alfred has made the habit of becoming fluent in all the languages his family speaks
- Bruce tries to do the same, but he’s not nearly as fluent. There’s still a lot of proper pronunciation he can’t get right and the kids make fun of him for it constantly
- Alfred speaks with them in their preferred language as often as possible, but usually sticks to English when they’re all together
- Everyone is a polyglot, except Cass, who currently only knows English and ASL
- Cass doesn’t speak often, as she’s still not used to having the ability to, but she wants to become a polyglot eventually, too. Her brothers help her practice
- It’s become a running joke amongst Bruce’s kids that whenever Father’s Day rolls around, they make cards for Alfred instead of Bruce
- Alfred keeps every single one
- No one has any idea what Alfred’s room looks like. Stephanie is convinced he doesn’t have one and that he sleeps in the cave (“I’m telling you guys! He sleeps upside down like a bat!”)
- Bruce is impossible to sneak up on, unless it’s Cass. She likes jumping out from behind corners and spooking him.
- He doesn’t react aside from throwing whatever is in his hands into the air. One time he threw an entire cup of hot coffee in his own face without so much as blinking
- Tim absolutely despises Country music, but Kon listens to it non stop and it’s drives Tim crazy because it’ll get stuck in his head for weeks on end
- Dick and Wally love going to haunted houses together, but only the intense ones where you have to sign a waiver
- They tried to take Starfire with them once, but she knocked out one of the employees when they jumped out at her so she now has a permanent ban
- Dick used to keep those alphabet fridge magnets at his apartment, but he kept finding them rearranged to spell swears and he still has no idea who was doing it
- Tim has a photographic memory which he uses to spout off random facts when someone annoys him
- Bruce: “try that again and I bench you” 13-year old Tim: “well did you know pigeons can be trained to tell the difference between Picasso and Monet paintings” Bruce: “okay”
- All of the younger bats think Jason was the problem child, but it’s actually Dick. Bruce tells them this constantly and they never believe him
- Jason doesn’t visit the manor often, but when he does, he always makes sure no one’s home. He’ll sit in his childhood bedroom that Alfred has kept immaculately clean with all the lights off for hours. He slips out as soon as he hears someone come home
- Jason chooses to ignore that his bedsheets are always newly washed because he knows Alfred is doing it in case he ever decides to come home
- He doesn’t know that Alfred used to do it when Jason was dead, too
- Alfred only ever lets Duke wash dishes because he’s the only one he can trust not to break them
- Dick is ridiculously good at juggling
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yaymiyas · 5 months
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Yandere!Jock Introduction
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warning: yandere content, manipulation, foul language, boys being…boys!, gn reader
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YANDERE!JOCK, whose very name gives you the ick. noah. ew. to his medium length golden hair that frames his face ever so tightly, to his tall frame that makes it almost impossible to miss him, and to especially his a million dollar smile that he wears like the latest fashion trend…why do you hate him again?
why do you avoid him like the spanish flu? not even you knew fully. you contemplate about this very topic for weeks, never really getting a straight answer from yourself. from every instants that you two have crossed paths, he has been nothing but forthcoming with you. nothing but sunshines and rainbows. nothing but absolutely perfect.
Yuck.
you never even wanted to actually know who he was. you and your friends may have joked about him and his friend group a few times, but having noah around you 24/7 was never really on your bucket list. he kind of made it his own mission to make his existence your business.
it all started last semester, when you were walking down the hall. chem and statistic books in one arm, and the other quietly struggling to keep your book bag up. with the current cards not being 1000% in your favor, you didn’t really have time to look up at where exactly you were going. but noah did. trying to maneuver through the busy halls isn’t the easiest task with two shoulders filled and a 6’2, linebacker breaking down your neck. you didnt even see him walking beside you for the last two door frames you seemingly passed. all that was on your mind was to successfully get to the exit quick enough so you can get to your car, but satan had other plans.
“i can help you if you dont mind”
not paying the voice any real attention, you flash a struggling smile trying to use that as a quiet sign to leave you alone. one thing you didn’t bank on, was for noah to not really take no as a real answer. or in this case, an annoyed smile. testing his luck, the taller male fixed your book bag strap releasing a whole 2 pounds of weight off of your shoulder. with this new found feeling, you hesitantly stopped in your tracks and paid the stranger a small glance. looking back was noah, smiling widely like he just won the latto.
YANDERE!JOCK who finds a way to comfort you at all the right times. a random rumor about you started to spread at the speed of light. nobody would tell you where it started, or why they believe it but all you know is that it is messing up your senior year. you wanted to end your high school career better than when you came in, because lets face it, your freshman and sophomore years were ass. not being of bullying or teasing, you just weren’t ready or willing to see that you were in a different environment. things are different from two years ago, well they were supposed to be.
you don’t know how you started crying or when, but you were outside of your ecom class tears soaking your binders. you never allowed the words of others to get to you, always brushed them off. this time around it was different. you were more affected than you thought you would be at things like this. sleeping with a teacher? the same ecom teacher who you deducted points for not citing correctly? the same one who didn’t learn your name until two weeks ago? such a baseless and so easy to be unproven, so why do so many people believe it?
the only reason you were crying outside of your class is because two girls called you a slut to your face. out loud. with grins on their face, like your misery was something that warmed their skin. it was all so disgusting but you couldn’t do anything was cry. why now? why you? why the very last semester of high school? why?
“i heard about what’s going on,”
noah slightly nudges your leg with his foot, forcing your attention solely on him. you didn’t want to look up.
no, you actually wanted to tell him to go away. why was the most annoying, condescending, passive aggressive person in front of you for. the universe and gods must hate you.
“you know,”
he started with a hint of glee in his voice. was this all a joke to him? was he enjoying your tears? was your agony entertainment for him? this sick bastard. if you could, you would pull him by his hair and yank him to the floor. a knee to the stomach wouldn’t do anything to a linebacker right?
“its okay if you slept with him…we all have our low points.”
wow.
oh.
you are a joke to him. his smile never wavered, no it actually got bigger. you turned your head a bit so both of you were staring into the others. his ocean blue eyes seemed to turn into a black hole, sucking you into it with no avail. this is sick. he is sick. was he the one to fucking tell everybody that? how did he even know about the rumor? why was he here? what does he want from you, and how far will he go to get it.
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buff-muffin · 2 months
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List of Doflamgingo and Corazon headcanons cause doomed siblings
1. Both brothers have extremely expressive eyes, they got them from their father. You can always tell what their thinking by looking at their eyes. Dofi was aware of this from a young age realising he could never tell what his brother was thinking because his hair covered his eyes. So he started wearing sunglasses. This kept him from being readable and stuck with him all the way to adulthood. This however also impacted Rosi as the entire time he works under Dofi he wears glasses to not let his intentions be read and thoughts understood, but the second hes with Law alone after finding out hes a D he took them off and let himself be readable for Law if it made the boy feel safe.
2. Doflamingo was always rather strong for a child and that came from helping his younger brother out. There were countless times where Rosi wanted to hold his hand yet when he tripped he would drag Dofi down with him. So he got strong enough to be able to pull his brother back up and not be taken down with him
3. Rosi was super clingy when he was small. Before and after they suffered on the streets, physical touch was such a love language for him, Dofi while never fully comfortable with it, was always sure to hold him… Now Corazon hardly even leans on him. It makes an old wound of Dofi’s ache
4. When Corazon first reunited with Dofi and he had time to process the fact his brother had gone MUTE after what happened years ago. Dofi wasnt sure what to think. While he felt no guilt for what he did and put his brother through a part of him feels almost pity, thinking his crybaby of a brother managed to scavenge around on the streets and survive without uttering a word. He felt pity, maybe remorse yet pride. That his bumbling younger brother had grown strong
5. One thing Dofi found odd about Cora was why he didnt use sign language despite being mute. When asked Cora explained that he never found a reason to bother learning. After all its not like people are going to go out of their way to learn sign for a random hungry kid on the streets. Dofi made sure all the family knew basic and needed signs so his brother could communicate needs quicker. Things like ‘help’ ‘thank you’ and names.
6. The sign Dofi used to symbolise corazon wa s a fist over the heart that he would clench twice to mimic a heart beat. It always gave a twicted idea of squeezing a heart. Law on the other hand would knock on his chest slightly to the left as if to knock on his own heart, this was because on minion island it was getting hard for him to clench his fists and found that sign far easier. Cora loved it.
7. As much as Cora’s muteness made things more complicated. There was a power aspect of it that Doflamingo enjoyed. There was something about the fact he knew that that no matter how bad shit would get Cora wouldnt speak and he would not tell anyone of their life before hand made him feel powerful, in control. Cora could be kept on a close tight leash and that, in the end was the biggest reason he doubted Corazon to be the traitor. He truly though if his brother could not speak there was no way he could help the marines. Though the longer he was there and the realisation of his capability and strength slowly made him doubt that logic. Until he left and the marines stopped.
8. When they were children, Dofi was still a rather stuck up and serious kid, always waiting for the day he was an adult and could take charge. Rosi however was the only one who could make him laugh. It was this dark spell his brother always had in his back pocket. The faces he pulled, the little shows he put on all of it made Dofi laugh. Rosi pulled out all those same tricks to make Law laugh
9. It took Rosi a really long time to stop flinching at the sound of gun shots. While Sengoku was a reasonable parent and did not put Rosi though any kind of intense training until he was ready for it. Gunshots was one of the hardest things to help the boy overcome.
10. Rosi was always a quite kid. He was never particularly chatty or asked a lot of questions. Usually just making squeaks when he fell. But after what happened he was mute for a while with Sengoku. Afraid to speak up as his brother had found him weak for making noises crying. It took him a while and Sengoku was willing to work with him when he didnt speak, but Rosi found his voice and started speaking though still never often, When he ate the calm-calm fruit not much had changed in the talking regard
11. Rosi has used the calm bubble to scream and cry once in the privacy in his own room. Yes he knew what he signed up for as Doflamingo’s corazon. But that didnt mean his heart didn’t ache whenever he had to take lives or threatening innocence
12. Every time he had call check ins with Sengoku, Rosi’s voice would crack just a little, the lack of use taking its effect on his voice. Even Law heard it once or twice in the start of them travelling together.
13. Corazon originally had an identical feathered coat as Dofi, but between the fact it no longer made doflamingo look like the one on top, and Cora kept accidently burning the feathers. They switched him to black. Now no one can see the burn marks unless you really look
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bet-on-me-13 · 1 year
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So, you know how there are a bunch of Fics where one of the Robins comes back as a ghost when they die? Most of the time it’s Jason, sometimes Tim, and Dick and Damian once in a blue moon
But has there ever been a Ghost Cass AU?
Cass dies while on Patrol, maybe is was a villainous plot, maybe it was a random goon getting a lucky shot, maybe she was killed by somebody she trusted...maybe...
Whatever way she died, Cass ends up as a Ghost.
I can see 2 different paths this could take, depending on where she reforms:
PATH 1: Cass Reforms where she died
Cass is reformed where she died, probably very soon afterwards or a few hours later. The Batfamily have not had time to get over their Grief, they only just retrieved her Body an hour ago and need to go back to the crime scene to investigate.
And once they get there, they see what looks like Cass’s Orphan costume but colored differently, just sitting there in a daze. She just became a ghost, only a few hours after her death due to her exposure to the Lazarus Pits, and it was Jarring. Not to mention the Pure Ectoplasm she is made of is reacting weirdly to the corrupted Ectoplasm that is in Jason, making her anxious.
Meanwhile [Insert Batfam member] and Jason are confused, scared, and paranoid. [Batfam member] remembers reading a few articles in passing while researching Lazarus Pits. They were about the Ectoplasmic Entities made from Lazarus Water called Ghosts, how they are imprints of a human consciousness after an emotional death. They are also completely malevolent and non-sentient.
[Batfam Member] doesn’t hope to believe that this is Cass, all the research says that this is a pile of goop pretending to be her. Of course this makes them mad, not only is this thing wearing their sisters face, it will also probably hurt people when it gets strong enough using said face. It feels like an insult. And Cass can’t even defend herself to them, since she lost whatever was left of her ability to speak when she became a Ghost, and she is too dazed and weak to do Sign Language.
[Batfam Member] explains what they know about Ghosts to Jason, how this isn’t Cass at all, just an imprint of her memories. They say this right in front of her, which scares her since they don’t seem to consider her a person anymore, just a thing using Cass’s face
Back when they first read up on Ectoplasmic Entities, he made sure to get a small Ecto-Infused Knife for everyone in the Family in case they ever encountered one.
They bring it out, but before they can do anything, the Ghost of Cass recognizes it and runs away. 
Jason is mad that [Batfam Member] instantly went for the knife, or didn’t think to look for any second opinions.
Cass runs to the Batcave, but she gets there as [Batfam Member] is explaining what Ghosts are on the big screen to everybody else. She also sees her own body, laying on a table in the center of the room. She starts to believe that [Batfam Member] is right, that she can’t be the real Cass, just a reflection. And she can’t stay here, the others are bound the believe [Batfam Member] over her now
She runs away, not even revealing herself to her family.
She runs and runs and runs for hours upon hours, non stop, across state lines, until she reaches a place where her instincts were telling her to go. It feels like the air is clear, like she has more energy. She has made it to Amity Park.
From there you can go in any direction you want.
PATH 2: Cass Reforms in the Zone
Cass reforms in a random place in the Zone, in a color swapped version of her Orphan costume. She wakes up to see a sky of green and ground of purple, completely alone, no one around her.
She wanders for a bit, but a run-in with a Monster forces her to run. As it chases her, she finds that she can fly, but so can it.
As she is running, a blast comes from above her and blasts the monster away. She looks up to see a guy with Green-Blue Skin, pointy ears, and white hair, in a Black Hazmat Suit, floating above her.
He introduces himself as Phantom, and explains that she must be a Ghost. She can’t respond because she lost the last of her ability to speak, but thankfully he knows Sign Language
She can’t remember how she died, but she remembers most of the rest of her life. She takes off her mask, and you can see that she looks like normal Cass with Green Skin, white Hair, and the pointy ears. Also small fangs cause I think those are cool.
Danny helps her around, teaches her about the Zone, introduces his living friends, all that. She even meets a cute clone named Ellie, but that’s besides the point. Eventually, after a few weeks of traveling the Zone and learning about her new abilities, she asks if she can go see her family. Danny agrees, but says that first he should teach her how to shapeshift so she can look human enough to go to the living world.
Which is how Danny and Cass learn that Cass is a Halfa (due to her exposure to the Lazarus Pits). While she is thinking of her human form, a ring of gold energy surrounds her and she suddenly has a heartbeat again. She’s also extremely hungry cause Ghosts don’t need to eat, but Halfa’s do (even if it is significantly less)
By the time she goes to see her Family, they are not as high strung or paranoid as they would have been directly after her death, so they are more willing to listen to reason. Also with Danny there (and maybe ellie), he can explain what she can’t.
But now they don’t know what to do, they still haven't figured out who killed Cass, all they know is that she was definitely killed, it wasn’t an accident.
What comes Next? I also don’t know, I need suggestions!
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hoes-love-lani · 2 months
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Not What It Looks Like Pt 2
Summary: See pt 1
Pairing: Ghostface!Amber x fem!reader
Warnings: smut, language, knife, mentions of murder, strap-on sex, mirror sex, degradation, praise, choking, blood, spit 😋
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The person above you held down your legs with theirs and used their left hand to pin both of your wrists down, leaving you helpless and unable to move. It’s not like you could’ve done anything for that matter, you were frozen in place. 
“Please, don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface…” You managed to stutter out as you stared into the gaping black holes of the mask, looking for any signs of mercy.
Ghostface slowly cocked their head to the side, trailing the knife down the side of your face. The blade made contact with your skin as you winced, a trail of blood spilled out. The mix of the cold air and open wound sends a shiver down your spine. The blood dripped down your cheek, dark red splotches drying on your tanned complexion. 
You felt the weight of the person above you pressing against you, the hardness of the item in their pants pressing against the soft flesh of your thigh. You didn’t know if it was a gun or something else. You hoped it was the latter.
The thought alone made the heat between your legs intensify.
No. Stop. It’s literally a fucking serial killer…
You snapped out of your thoughts when the knife made impact with the floor beneath you, cracking between the individual planks. 
The deranged killer above you slowly reached up to grab their mask, pulling it over their head. When it reached over their mouth, they flashed you a wide, toothy grin. Once they pulled it over their head, you were shocked. You felt your stomach drop. 
Amber.
Amber Fucking Freeman.
Your girlfriend. Slaughtered 2 people and you were pretty sure you were going to be the 3rd. 
She wiped the dried blood off your cheek, the softness of her touch distracting you from the fact she killed people with those same hands. “Darling… my pretty girl…” She whispered as the hold on yur wrists loosened slightly. 
No. Cut this out. It can’t be. 
You struggled to get up, Amber’s strength unmeasured against yours. She gripped your wrists harder, her nails dug into your skin. 
“Amber, cut it out. Let me go.” Your eyes turned glossy as you stared into hers, eyes wide and boring into yours. Any sane person would fight for their life in this moment but you couldn’t do anything. Amber was the person you trusted the most, but she’s the same person that’s been 
“Y/n, it’s not what it looks like-”
“No. Let go of me, you’re a monster” Her eyes softened with hurt as she looked down at you.
“I did it for you.” And then your world stopped. Amber softly stroked your cheek as she continued.
“Jason Carvey. It was only meant to be him. When I broke in the apartment, Gary was there playing with some random fucking Ghostface mask. He saw me, charged at me, and I ended up stabbing him. I started panicking, there was blood everywhere. I didn’t know what to do with his body. So, I cut him and stuffed his body in the fridge. They had a huge fucking collection of Stab shit inside the closet, I grabbed a Ghostface mask and costume and put it on. And then Jason came back after, I slit his throat. I left him in the living room floor. I threw away the mask and grabbed another, a clean one.”
She threw the Ghostface mask behind her, careless to wear it would land. 
“Jason fucking Carvey. The bitch couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He knew I was dating you, he knows that you belong to me, y/n. When I killed him and Gary, I felt… alive. The thrill that rushed through my veins… was so delicious.”
She yanked the knife out of the ground, the sound of the cracking floor rang in your ear. She softly whispered in your ear, her hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, “You’re mine, y/n. And I will do anything for you. I would kill a thousand men if they dare to take you from me.”
The knife in her hand trailed down your throat, your breath hitched as she cut another slit. Fresh drops of dark red blood pooled in the hollow of your neck, making you feel warn and lightheaded. Amber eyes flashed with lust and desire as she flattened her tongue against your neck, licking it up. The action alone made you moan, sending another gush of arousal down in between your legs.
Amber let go of both your wrists, leaving minors bruises that you know what be purple and blue in the morning. She slashed open your blue pajamas, the pieces of fabric being removed from your body. She let out a teasing moan as she saw the wet spot in your underwear. 
“You’re such a fucking slut, y/n. You’re soaked and I haven’t even touching you, it’s like you’re practically begging for me to touch you.” 
She crashed her lips into yours, her tongue swiping against your bottom lip as it begged for your permission. It made you groan and Amber seized her moment to insert her tongue. Her tongue danced along yours, her moans vibrated in your mouth, sending butterflies to your stomach. 
After a while, she pulled away with a heavy breath, a string of saliva unraveling itself from where your lips were previously occupied. It made you whine from the loss of her warmth when she stood up, but she shushed you and got up on her knees. She took off the robe, revealing a white wife-beater and basketball shorts beneath it. That hard object you felt in her pants earlier was indeed not a gun, it was a strap-on. 
And fuck, it was huge. 
When she slipped out of her shorts, it sprang against her stomach. The cool, black plastic stood at a good 9 inches in length. The thought of taking such a huge object made your mouth water. She stood up, towering over you as you still lied on your back. 
“On your knees.” She set the knife down on the bedside table. 
You quickly sat up and got on your knees, feeling small and vulnerable in this positon. She stared down at you, the look she was given you made you whine and rub yout thighs together to relieve your aching clit. She stroked the length, agonizingly slow. She spit on the shaft, lubing it up with her warm saliva.  
Fuck, you weren’t about to fuck a serial killer… Right?
But you couldn’t resist. Not when it’s Amber. 
She held the tip in front of your mouth, coaxing for you to take it into your mouth. You gladly did, slowly sucking on the tip of the cold, hard plastic. Amber slowly rolled her hips in and out of your mouth, groaning at the sight of you being so needy for an inanimate object, it was like a game to her. She gathered your hair into a ponytail and started thrusting the strap-on in your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat with every thrust, making you moan around the length
.
She pulled you off, a wet ‘pop’ escaped your lips from how hard you were sucking her off.
“Good girl,” she groaned as she helped you up and bent you over the bed, moving you to whatever position she pleased as you did nothing to stop her. 
She loomed behind you, hands on your hips as she gently coaxed you to look at yourself in the mirror adjacent from the bed. “Such a pretty girl for me to use, huh? This pretty pussy is all mine…” She gently teased your clit with the tip of the strap-on, making you squirm and arch your back. 
“Fuck, babygirl. You don’t know what you do to me.” She smirked before carefully sliding her strap inside your pussy. She slowly rolled her hips, it’s like she was toturing you with this agonizing pace she’s set. 
“Fuck, Ambs… that all you got?” You looked over your shoulder with a smirk, hoping that’ll get you somewhere. 
She looked dead into your eyes, hers turned dark in less than a second, like a light switch turned on. She started pistoning into you, the bed creaked with each thrust, you were afrid it was going to break.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. 
Every thrust made you gasp for air, your toes curl and your eyes roll back.
She started playing with your clit, rolling it in between her pointer and thumb. It made you moan into the sheets, tears pricking out of the corners of your eyes. She pressed her hand into the middle of your shoulder blades as she positioned her strap to go deeper into you, the length pressing a small bulge into your stomach.  “Please, please, please.” The words  played in your head over and over again like a prayer. 
She moved her hand from your back to grab you by the throat, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. Your back was pressed against her front as she whispered in your ear while making eye contact with you through the mirror. 
“Fuck… you’re such a slut, y/n. My dirty little cockslut, begging for me to fuck you like the whore you are.” She emphasized the last few words with extra hard thrusts, making your eyes roll back in your head from the sensations. She attached her lips to your neck, sucking a hickey on your pulse point. 
“Please, Ambs… ‘m gonna cum..” You whimpered out as she pounded into you. 
“Cum for me, babygirl.” She rubbed your clit faster and moved her other hand from your throat up to your breast, rolling your nipple between her fingers. 
You came on her fingers with a cry, your legs shaking and trembling as she gently coaxed you to lay down on your stomach. She gently rubbed circles on the small of your back as she placed tiny kisses on your shoulders. After you regained some strength, you flipped over on your back, crashing your lips with Amber’s. She gratefully accepted and eagerly kissed you back. 
She pulled away with a smirk on her face, picking up the knife from the bedside table. She pressed the blade against your neck, gripping the handle hard enough for her knuckles to turn white. 
“You wouldn’t tell anyone, right?”
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bloodycyrano · 3 months
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Little things I think team tadpole would do for one another.
Part 1.
I think Durge/Tav and Wyll would be willing to read karlachs favorite childhood stories to her, since I don't think she could really pick up and read books- being flammable and all.
Astarion would use his sewing skills to stitch up Clive- And maybe make a few more little stuffed animal friends for Karlach.
I also think Astarion would pull Durge/Tav aside when he noticed them getting stressed out and forcibly talk them through some self care.- Astarion is the king of passive aggressive pep talks.
Gale would definitely try to help Wyll try to figure out how to turn back to the way he was before Mizora turned him into a devil.
Tav hosts group therapy sessions every Sunday, prove me wrong.
Wyll has done a lot of research on vanquishing vampire lords, and has probably made up a complete vampire slaying kit simply labeled "Cazador"
Lae'zel does nice things for people all the time, it's just that nobody realizes it. She's carrying most of your weapons, you don't think she's the one who sharpens them? She does. Without being told to, without asking for praise. Sometimes, she'll go back to the traders after dark because she realizes Durge/Tav hit random on camp supplies again, and Gale has nothing to work with.
Everyone knows Gale takes care of most of the cooking at camp, but I don't think anyone realizes he has a list of everyone's food allergies clipped in the back of his spell book, and even makes potion modifications depending on how his companions react to certain ingredients.
I also feel like Halsin started experimenting with herbology after finding out that Durge is afraid to go to sleep because they don't want to hurt anyone in camp, and ended up making them a sort of sleeping tincture to help their Bhaal-induced sleepwalking.
This one will maybe be a little less popular, but I headcannon Tav/Durge to be autistic, largely because I'm autistic, and I could definitely see Shadowheart making little cards for them with like "Yes", "No", "Angry", "Sad", "Overstimulated", etc. So that they could still communicate while having a meltdown.- Bonus points, they start learning sign language together if they have really high approval.
Wyll made some flashcards to help Lae'zel understand some of the norms, pronunciations, and overall weirdness of Faerun.
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demonic0angel · 9 months
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God!Danny and Servant!Damian
Damian stared at the long hallway of various knickknacks and doohickeys. The ever-changing wallpaper was cracked and peeling, sticky with a green substance. Bizarrely shaped and decorated doors would occasionally peek out from the mountains of loot. The tables that lined the hallway were filled with books and books and many random objects. The hallway was illuminated with a combination of different things, candles and chandeliers and crackling TVs and lightbulbs lighting up the way. At the very end of the long hallway was a lone door, unmarked and conspicuous in its simplicity.
Once he walked through that door, he would be able to complete his wish.
Something to his side caught his eye. It was a small picture of a family, one with many unique characters.
It reminded Damian of his own.
It reminded him of his failures, his goals, and his desires.
Wiping away the liquid that welled in his eyes, he turned and glared at the door that seemed more and more like the light in the darkness as well as his own personal demise.
Damian grit his teeth and began to run.
————
It all started simply. It was an average day, a normal afternoon as Damian bickered with his siblings as always. He and Timothy were rubbing on each other's nerves, only instigated further by Jason who would gleefully laugh every now and then whenever he sparked the dying fire.
Dick sighed and said, "C'mon you two. Why can't you just get along?"
"It's  because Damian knows that Tim is better than him at detective work." Jason said.
"Shut up, Todd!" Damian said as Timothy made a strange expression of both smugness and also exasperation. Despite knowing that Jason was deliberately goading them on, they still fell for it and walked right into another heated argument.
Dick only sighed further as his little siblings argued like children. The door to the command room opened with Batman sweeping in, Stephanie following him with a little skip to her step.
"Heya, everyone!" She greeted cheerfully while Batman flew past them to inspect the controls.
All of them were in a spaceship commandeered by the batfamily in a mission to inspect a small alien planet that had recently pinged itself on their radar. It was a dangerous new colony that had an ability to steal the memories of those that they had killed and use it to conquer new planets.
The batclan was currently in a mission to investigate if the rumors were true and to find any weaknesses.
"Father?" Damian asked, as he noticed Batman's tense body language. "What is the matter?"
".... Orphan hasn't come back from her stealth mission."
A ripple of dread went through the room. Timothy immediately sat down on a seat and began to pull up mission records. They updated it regularly as they went, and Cassandra had logged in for her mission a few days ago, but now she was several hours past her expected return. This was a bad sign, especially since it was only a reconnaissance mission, with little to no conflict and even if there was, Cassandra would've contacted them.
Something had gone very, very wrong.
Stephanie whispered, "No... she couldn't have been."
Jason gave a snort, although it was weak and filled with false bravado. "There's no way. She's probably trying to find some new information for us. She's stronger than that."
No one said anything.
His attempt at gathering hope failed.
"... fuck." Jason said quietly, as the worst of what could've happened finally sank its claws into his mind.
Everyone was aware that this current mission was one with high stakes. The alien race they were investigating was a dangerous one, and unknown at that. Although they expected danger, they hadn’t expected one of their own to actually get hurt.
Batman shook his head, a hand reaching out to clasp Jason's shoulder. "We'll find her and then we'll help her." He reassured him softly. It said a lot that Jason didn't shake off his touch.
A stone sank in Damian's stomach.
This was his first mission in outer space and he loathed how vulnerable he felt. In an effort to hide it, Damian scoffed to himself and straightened.
They all lifted their heads in unison, however, when a crash rang through the ship. Their gut instincts had alerted them to the danger a second beforehand, but it was still too late.
The light flickered off, inciting another gasp of panic. They all put on their masks to switch on their night vision.
Batman immediately pulled out several batarangs and said, "Dick, with me! The rest of you, stay here and be careful. We'll investigate."
"Fuck!" Jason screamed, louder. "Why am I not coming?!"
"I need you to protect your siblings!" Batman said before he ran off with Dick in tow.
"Grayson!" Damian couldn't help but yell. "Father, shouldn’t we stick together instead?!”
He couldn’t help the worry that stuck to his voice.
Dick swerved back before he could leave the control room and immediately pulled Damian into a hug. "Little Bat," he said softly. "Stay here and protect Stephanie and Tim, okay? They need it."
Damian wanted to protest at his reassurances, almost indignant at the idea that he possibly needed comfort, but he didn’t say a word as Dick stroked his back. Timothy didn't speak up either, completely silent. Damian knew that he was also feeling some sense of immense dread, their survival instincts giving them a premonition of danger and death.
Damian tried to hold his brother closer, eyes wide before Dick pulled away, pulling on a false smile.
"Be careful!" He screamed and then he left.
"This isn't good, this isn't good." Tim muttered as he furiously tapped on the keyboard to figure out what was going on. Everything was down, even their systems and now they just waited in the darkness for a signal of safety.
Jason cursed under his breath. "I should've been with them!" He muttered.
Damian pushed down his nausea and said, "Then let's go. With the computers down, there is no reason for us to stay here when we could go out and help them."
"Fuck, I'm going." Jason pulled out his guns and immediately began to load them with bullets.
"Dammit." Tim cursed and Stephanie pulled out her own bo staff and looked determinedly at them.
"Let's go." She said, and they all followed her as she left first.
They ran through the halls to get to the sector where the explosion had supposedly started. The air seemed stale and dark, and a distant 'ooh'ing noise like wind going through a hole disturbed them greatly. Damian wished he had his swords, but all he had was a bo staff and a few batarangs to protect himself.
His eyes searched the darkness. Stephanie and Timothy were next to each other, their shoulders almost bumping against each other's for comfort, while Jason trailed a little behind Damian, guns out and ready. Damian reassured himself that his family was safe. Cassandra was surely just fine and so would his father and Richard be. They would be okay.
They would all be okay.
There was another crash right in front of them and Stephanie screamed. Jason immediately shot into the dark, the bright flash of a gunshot illuminating the hall for a moment, showing just who came through the wall.
A grotesque monster with bulging, writhing black tentacles stared at them before the light faded. Jason relentlessly shot his bullets, but they seemed useless.
There was a short scuffle before a disturbing squelching noise.
Timothy gave a long, loud keen before his body blocked Damian's vision.
The last thing that Damian saw before Timothy was pulling him away was Stephanie's fallen body, a deep blackness covering her that would shine crimson red.
They ran.
The moment Damian was able to reconnect with his thoughts and surroundings, he pulled his hand out of Timothy's and said, "Brown! She's still back there!"
"No!" Timothy snapped, his voice sounding wrecked. "We have to run. I saw her. She's not coming back."
Jason cursed violently and they quickly skidded into the next hall, shutting the sealed doors for a moment.
"Fuck. It's them. They found Cassandra and took her memories." Jason said and Damian choked on his fear and shock.
Timothy shuddered visibly and then said, "I think they got Stephanie too."
Damian grimaced, hurt shooting through his chest like a bullet wound before he gasped.
"Father! And Richard! They—They went ahead of us!" It was almost instantaneous how both Jason and Timothy paled.
Jason smacked his hands over his eyes. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!"
He took out his helmet and quickly put it on. "I'm going out. Maybe I can find them. Bruce is smart, he's probably still alive and I'll find them."
"You're not invincible, Todd." Damian snarled. "Let us come with you. If we die, we'll all die together."
"Like hell we will." Jason said curtly. "You little shits are gonna live because if another Robin dies, I'm...." He paused. He didn't know what to say.
None of them could find the words needed to comfort each other.
Damian's stomach dropped further into his feet, as if he was about to be sick.
Timothy reached out and grabbed onto Jason's sleeve. "Jason. You know it's a suicide mission. You can't go."
Jason reloaded his bullets and didn't say anything.
When he turned, Jason's helmet was still on his face as he stared at both Tim and Damian. Then he reached over to put a gloved hand on their heads and said, his voice crackling softly, "I gotta go, Robins. Protect each other. Be safe. I mean it."
His touch was heavy and warm, even through his glove. Damian stared at his akhi with wide, wet eyes.
Timothy screamed in shock and despair as Jason sealed that exit and then ran off. They heard the distant sounds of gunshots before they faded.
Timothy gasped for breath, tears flowing down his face but he quickly wiped them and then pulled on Damian's arms. "C'mon, Robin. It's up to us now. We have to get to the exit bay and hope that everyone else gets through this alive and back home."
No one voiced the fact that it would be near impossible.
As they ran, Timothy was furiously typing on his communicator. When they reached the ship bay, where extra spacecrafts were stationed and ready to fly, they found it blissfully empty.
Already suspicious, they snuck inside. Damian was almost irritated by the small gasps that left Timothy's throat but he understood, with the grief that seemed to eat through his stomach. After a moment, as they inched towards a spacecraft, Damian reached out to hold Timothy's hand and squeezed gently.
Timothy squeezed back and they both sped up to the spacecraft. They both worked together to open it up and get it ready for space travel when there was a distant roar.
Damian shuddered hard, goosebumps rising over his skin as he worked even faster, flicking on buttons and readying the controls and coordinates.
Timothy cursed and said, "Dammit. I can't message Earth."
Damian bit into his lip.
Nothing was going well. Where were their family?
Timothy handed Damian the communicator. For a moment, Damian just stared at it in confusion before he turned to Timothy with questioning eyes, his heart squeezing in his chest.
What was the meaning of this? Was Timothy possibly handing off their last chance of survival to him? For what reason?
"What is this for?" Damian snapped.
"Just hold it," Timothy said exhaustedly. "I need to go out and see if the exterior of the pod is functional for space travel. You stay here and stay inside while I go check outside."
"No! What if something happens and I am unable to stop it?" Damian said, his foot stomping once on the ground to emphasize his point.
Timothy didn't say anything as he started to walk down the ramp to the ground outside of the ship. Damian rushed forward to grab his hand and pull him back.
"Why must everyone sacrifice their lives?!" Damian shouted. "You don't need to do this! Let's just stick together!"
"Just shut up, Damian!"
"No! Let's leave now! I-I want to leave now!"
Timothy turned to him with a furious expression but whatever was on Damian's face made him pause. Then he pursed his lips together before pulling Damian in close.
They had never hugged before.
The closest they had ever been was whenever Damian lunged forward for a knife to Timothy's gut.
But this... this wasn't so bad. Damian's eyes burned with an urge to cry and he grabbed onto his brother's suit.
"We will be okay, Damian."
And just as he said that, he pushed Damian forward and through the aircraft as the aliens finally revealed themselves as well as the tentacle that now wiggled into Timothy's stomach.
It happened in an instant.
Damian couldn't even react as Timothy was impaled through his torso.
Blood spilled on the floor and through Timothy's mouth. Timothy coughed, more blood dripping down his chin. He inched forward as the tentacles seemed to pull him back. It was a slow thing, as Damian watched in frozen horror as Timothy moved towards him.
"Timothy!" He couldn't help but blurt it out. "You're going to be ripped in half, you imbecile!"
He took out a batarang, already formulating a plan to hopefully cut away the tentacle but then Timothy reached into his side pouch and took the access card out, slotting it into the card reader and smiling reassuringly at Damian as blood dripped from his lips and body.
"You'll be okay." He croaked, before a black blur shot out and impaled his skull, blood splattering over the doors as they quickly shut themselves.
The aircraft began to lift itself from the ground automatically as Damian screamed with rage and grief, his fist smacking into the door as he flew away. The last thing he saw before he sped off into space and back to earth was Timothy's limp body being dragged backwards.
Damian sank to his knees and didn't get up for a long time.
When he arrived back to Earth, it was useless.
Because Gotham was now gone.
————
Damian opened the door.
Inside was a wide, circular room with marble walls and floors. The ceiling was tall, and windows covered it, letting in golden light that lit up the room with an ethereal glow. In the middle of the room was a pool of water surrounding a tall tree on a little island.
Damian couldn't help the gulp of air that he took, rejuvenating him with a refreshing lightness like he was breathing in sunlight.
"Ah." A voice gasped softly. Damian whipped his head upwards and stared at a figure floating within the tree branches. "Hello."
This person wore white and black, their clothes all flowing around them. On their face was a deer skull, its horns stretching behind them as their white hair, strangely similar to Jason's unique white coloring, floated gently.
"Are you the God from the legends?" Damian asked, his voice sounding braver than he felt as the pressure of this being encased him.
"The legends? I suppose so. Do you have a wish, Damian al Ghul-Wayne?"
Damian flinched before his gaze hardened. "Yes. I would like to make a deal with you."
"I see." The god jumped off of the tree branch and floated in front of him. The air felt colder as they drifted closer to Damian. "What is your wish?"
"I want my family to live again."
The being paused. They tilted their head and then said, "Your family?"
"Yes." Damian paused and then clarified, "I want my entire family to be alive again. My father, all of my brothers, my sisters, my grandfather, and my extended family within Gotham."
"... a very big ask." The god murmured.
A chill rose within Damian and he said urgently, worried that his wish wouldn't be granted, "I am willing to do whatever it takes to have my wish granted. I can kill whoever you ask, I can offer my own body...! Anything, as long as my family is alive again."
The god tilted their head the other way. Then they said, "I see. Name your family."
Damian's breath hitched but before he did, he asked, "Will my wish be granted?"
"Yes."
Damian thrilled at that, before he paused. Then he asked carefully, "What is the price?"
The god turned to look at him. Their empty eye sockets, filled with a faint green glow, seemed to bore holes into his soul. "The price of the revival of your family is to sacrifice your life and eternity to me. You will offer your life, your death, and your eternity to me, for me to do whatever I wish."
Damian's breath stuttered. He paused, heart pounding as he debated with himself.
But who was he kidding?
There was no such question in the first place. Damian was not worth even an toe from his family. He wasn't even worth enough to even gaze upon their shoes.
Damian nodded firmly. "I agree to your deal. If I offer everything that I am to you, you will agree to revive my family as they once were?"
"They will be revived and reverted back to a time when they were once alive. They will be well and healthy, I assure you. With this deal, I can promise that they will live to old age."
Damian beamed. "Deal. My family's names are Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, and Timothy Drake."
The god seemed to give off an air of satisfaction. "Then, for the soul, eternity, and life and death of Damian al Ghul-Wayne, the aforementioned people will be revived and brought back to life."
They clapped their hands. "It's been done."
Damian couldn't tell if they were lying or not. Still, Damian was overjoyed at this piece of news. "Then... may I go see them?"
The god floated a bit in front of him. "No. You'll stay here, with me."
Damian paused, his stomach dropping and he wanted to smack himself for hoping. "I see. What will you have me do?"
Would they make Damian kill for them? Be a slave? Use his body? Would he have to sacrifice his body parts for them? Kidnap people? The possibilities were endless and although it made a bitter, sour taste go through his mouth, Damian did not dare complain.
The god seemed to be smiling as a broom appeared into existence in their hands. They handed it to Damian who grabbed it unsurely.
"Clean up."
————
And that was the beginning of how Damian became a servant of a lone God.
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limarieb · 7 months
Text
it's so sweet knowing that you love me (though we don't need to say it to each other)
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Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader
Summary: You were born completely deaf, unable to fully learn how to read lips and constantly finding your hearing aids uncomfortable. On your venture for coffee, you find yourself overwhelmed (to the point of escape) when you are being spoken to by a (very pretty) woman who you cannot understand. Confusion and chaos arise on both ends. You return that same week, ready for the hateful confrontation that might take place. Fortunately, that "hateful" confrontation does not happen.
Warnings: none (a bit of angst, but then it's all fluff)
Word Count: 2.1k
Author's Note: this little collection of one-shots is still one of my favorite things to think about occasionally... perhaps i will consider making a third part if you give me some of your ideas on what the third part should consist of...
Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad
Click Here for Part 2 to the 'Sweet' One-Shot Collection
...
From an early age, you realized that you were different from other people. When you would go to various places with your parents, random strangers always tried to talk to you. You couldn’t hear them, of course, considering the fact that you were born entirely deaf; adults and children alike never seem to understand that, though, and continued their quests of trying to get you to talk with your mouth rather than your hands.
Due to your innate inability to hear, you grew up learning sign language as your primary language. It wasn’t until you were four years old when you were lost in the supermarket, frantically trying to find your parents, that you realized the majority of people do not comprehend your language. Growing up in upstate New York, there weren’t exactly many people like you. There were not many people that felt ostracized by their community for something beyond their control, nor were there many individuals jumping at the opportunity to make accommodations for situations like yours. Thus, the most you were able to do in terms of communication was writing and reading in English and ‘speaking’ in sign language. Unlike some other people who were deaf, you were never able to learn how to read others’ lips, which frustrated you to no end.
And, honestly? It sucked. It was a lonely experience, and you spent many nights of your childhood (and adulthood) crying to your parents about it. It broke their hearts seeing their child experiencing such a cumbersome set of emotions and experiences that most do not even witness in a lifetime, and you knew they carried a pang of guilt about it all. You wish they didn’t, though, because you know it’s not their fault and that they have been trying their best to help you thrive despite your challenges. 
It wasn’t all bad, darkness, and negativity. In fact, there are many moments where you found your deafness as a sort of power or unique ability (instead of an inability). It allowed you to sense things differently. Your favorite way to decompress was feeling certain textures, especially the yarn blanket your mother made years ago, and putting on loud music so the vibrations would flow through the medium of the speakers and into your body via your fingers or your feet. Something about it all was therapeutic.
You received a pair of hearing aids as a child, but you did not necessarily prefer them. In circumstances where there were a lot of people in a given room, the sensations would become quite painful and confusing for your brain to untangle and compute all at once. Ergo, you only really use them on the occasion where you know prior that there were gonna be few people and low amounts of background noise, like when you are working one-on-one with a client.
Given that you were going to the local coffee place, you elected to leave hearing aids at home. You use your phone to place a mobile order, effectively removing the barrier of needing to talk to an employee to order. You walked into the shop and began your path towards the pick-up area. Reaching and sorting through the other orders, you eventually come to the realization that yours is not there. You figured that the staff was simply behind on crafting the drinks, so you wait for a few minutes.
As you anxiously played with your fingers, one of the employees approaches you. She was slightly taller than you, but she was also undeniably beautiful. Her long auburn hair was tied back, held in place by a mere tie. You caught a brief glance of her eyes, quickly noticing how green they were. In the presence of such a pretty lady, your anxiety began to rise. She gave a shy smile and began moving her lips to form words. Due to your overly anxious state and inability to read her lips, you rapidly became overwhelmed. You look behind her to see her coworkers behind the counter snickering at you two. Immediately, you assumed they were laughing solely at��you, talking about how the only reasonable explanation for your lack of response was stupidity beyond any repair. 
So, you turned around and walked out of the door. You felt so embarrassed , more than you have ever felt since high school. All you wanted to do was go home and decompress.
Wanda stood there in a state of shock. One second, she was there trying to explain to you how she couldn’t make your drink because they were out of oat milk; the next, you were gone.
Did I say something wrong? Wanda thought to herself as she watched you escape her workplace.
Hanging her head in shame, she retreated to behind the counter where her coworkers, Bucky and Sam, were still laughing at her failed attempt to have a conversation with you. The brunette has watched you for a while from afar; she knew your favorite drink like the back of her hand, and she always tried to make sure your favorite spot in the corner of the café was kept neat and tidy for you. In her eyes, you were the most beautiful creature to walk on this planet. She would give up anything to know you as something more than just a customer.
Wanda let out a sigh of frustration mixed with sadness, leaning against the counter with her head in her hands. She finally broke the monotony of the undying laughter, “Would the two of you stop laughing? It’s not funny. Oh my god, that was so embarrassing.”
“Cheer up, little witch,” Bucky started. “There are more fish in the sea.”
“I don’t want other fish, though. I want her,” she tried to reason. “She’s so pretty, Bucky. And, after months, I finally worked up the courage to talk to her, and she just walked away from me.”
The latter part made Sam raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean she just walked away from you? Did you say something that could’ve upset her?”
“I don’t think so,” Wanda tried to think back. “I was just starting to explain how we were out of oat milk, so I couldn’t make her drink. But, before I could even give her some alternative choices, she just… left.”
Sam let out a hum, unsure of what exactly to reply. The three employees went back to work, yet Wanda was definitely not thinking about her encounter with you while making the various orders.
A few days had passed since the incident. Even though you vowed never to return to the coffee place (your favorite coffee joint), a conversation with your mother left you feeling more empowered and confident about it all. Her facial expressions and rapid hand motions displaying her anger at the workers forced a smile out of you. 
Thus, you decided that you were going to return to the coffee place the next morning. You repeated the same mobile order but decided to keep your phone in hand in case you needed to type something mean and vulgar at the employees who left you feeling humiliated the other day.
You grasp the handle and pull the door forward, granting yourself entry into the once comforting setting.
With a fleeting glance to the counter, your eyes briefly meet hers. It was too late to turn back now, so you cautiously walked to the familiar pick-up area. However, your drink seems to be missing again today. Great.
You look up to see the same woman from before warily approaching you, and it takes everything you have in your body to not flee the scene. Similar to the previous time she walked up to you, the girl began to speak again. She did not get very far before you opened the notes app on your phone and started to furiously type. By the expression on her face, you could tell she was surprised at the sudden action but waited for you to stop typing. 
After a minute passed, you finally turned the phone to show your message to the woman:
Hi, there. I’m deaf, and I don’t have hearing aids on at this moment. Anything that you’ve said, I did not hear… at all. 
You watched with patience as the other girl slowly and carefully skimmed the message. Her head tilted and her mouth opened to form an O-like shape, and you could pinpoint this moment with exact accuracy as the moment she realized that you were not (and were never) purposefully ignoring her — you couldn’t hear her; that’s why you must have left suddenly.
She shyly smiled and nodded towards your phone. With a quirked eyebrow, you offer it to her. She happily takes it from you to begin typing a message of her own:
Hi! I’m so sorry I didn’t realize before… I’m sure it must’ve been frustrating to just have someone talking AT you rather than WITH you. Is that why you left suddenly last time?
You weren’t really sure why you were surprised by her message, specifically the last part. Did she remember? After thinking for a few minutes, you form a reply:
Yeah, I guess… I was just very overwhelmed, and I saw some of the others laughing. I just felt bad, idk. So, I left.
You definitely did not expect the frown that appeared on her face when you walked in there today. She pointed to the phone, and you gave it to her once more. 
I’m sorry… if it makes you feel any better, they weren’t laughing at you or anything. Actually, they were laughing at me, not you.
As you read the new message, your face visibly contorted into confusion and disbelief.
What do you mean?
With the phone in her hands again, she typed: 
I’ve been wanting to talk to you for months, Y/N. The last time you were here, I finally tried to talk to you - at least about how we were out of oat milk for your drink. I guess they found you walking away without saying anything VERY comical. 
It was your turn to be in a complete and utter state of shock.
Oh… Wait, how do you know my name? 
She wrote her reply fairly quick: 
Who do you think makes your drink every time? ;)
As she passes the phone back to you, she personifies the wink in real life. Immediately, you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.
Well, I feel like it’s fair to ask for your name now - an 'eye for an eye’ type of thing.
She subconsciously bites her bottom lip as she slid the phone over with her reply:
Wanda. Wanda Maximoff.
Something about her name and connecting it to her made you feel… light. 
Well, Wanda, I’m here talking to you now, aren’t I? Why did you want to talk to me before? Am I that intimating?
It was her turn to fall victim to blushing, reading your questions regarding her apprehension of talking to you.
Intimidating? No, not really. Really pretty, though? Can neither confirm nor deny.
You released a small, quiet chuckle at her compliment; Wanda, on the other hand, has to remember for a second how to breathe because she heard you for the first time. She loved it, and she only wants to hear more. 
Give me your phone?
You sit there in confusion but comply with her unspoken request nonetheless. You give you her unlocked phone again, except you notice there’s no new message in your notes app conversation. You raise your eyebrow, showing you don’t really understand what just happened. Wanda, however, just winks at you again and slowly returns to her spot behind the counter. 
You never found out what she did at that moment on your phone until you receive a text a few minutes later from a foreign contact labeled “Wanda ;)”:
Wanda ;)  [9:47 AM]
Hey, sorry to cut our convo short - I had to help the customers. Meet me for dinner after work? 6 pm? :)
How could you say no to a request from her? You look up from your phone to see her biting her lip, hiding a smile as she makes drinks for other people. You look back down at your own device to respond:
You [9:48 AM]
I’ll be there. :)
You don’t remember being treated with such care and understanding before, especially by who was merely a stranger moments ago and has seemingly little experience with a person who is deaf. Wanda was different, though — a good different. She initiated a feeling of happiness and freedom within you that had not been experienced prior to that day. Most people did not consider trying to help you or finding different ways to talk to you, but Wanda did; moreover, she did so because she wanted to — she wanted to actually know you. 
It was increasingly evident that you were beyond infatuated with her. The night went so well, in fact, that you changed her contact from “Wanda ;)” to “Wanda <3” after you met her for your date that same evening.
End.
388 notes · View notes
supernovafics · 11 months
Text
𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐍
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pairing: professor!steve harrington x professor!fem!reader
word count: 6.8k words
summary: in which it had been twelve years since you last saw steve harrington. and you never thought about him, mainly because you’d forced yourself not to. but, suddenly, it was hard to avoid thoughts or reminders of him when after all of those years, you finally saw him again. it was an abrupt moment that oh so quickly brought back memories and old feelings that managed to do a number of things; confuse, scare, and worry you. after everything that happened between you two, you fully believed that you would never want to talk to him again. but maybe that was the exact thing that needed to happen.
warnings: explicit language, mentions of cheating, a bit of fluff, implied smut, a shit ton of angst but with a happy ending
author’s note: this took forever and it's insanely long but i love the way it turned out<33 the rest of the trilogy will be out next, so "august" and then "betty" coming (very) soon!! (full "folklore" album series masterlist here!)
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“and when i felt like i was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Fall Semester 1996
You rarely ever thought about your life pre-Rhode Island. Mainly because you never wanted to, but also because it felt so far in the past that there was never any reason to focus on what used to be. 
You segmented your life into two phases. One, before you left your hometown, and, two, the moment you drove past the “Leaving Hawkins” sign and never looked back, refraining to listen to the part of the sign that told you to “Come Again Soon.” 
It had been nearly twelve years since you left the small Indiana town, and there wasn’t one moment where you ran into anyone that you once knew from that “before” life, which, in turn, meant that you never had any reason to think about Hawkins.
Until you did run into someone. And it was probably the worst possible person you could’ve ever run into. 
Steve fucking Harrington.
You would’ve rather seen Simon Gardener— your crush from sixth grade who you’d thrown up in front of when the two of you got paired up on a Science project— than Steve. 
But, now here he was, standing barely twenty feet away from you. You’d nearly dropped the coffee you’d waited almost twenty minutes for from your favorite coffee shop. Instead, you spilled some on your hand and only inwardly winced at the feeling because you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself. 
You almost turned around and walked out of the building you just walked into, but your office was right down the hallway that Steve was currently standing in the middle of along with the head of the English Department, Dan. And now that there was spilled coffee on your hand you really needed to go in there and rummage through the drawer of your desk that contained a bunch of leftover napkins from random nights when you’d order takeout to your office.
Before you could contemplate further about what your next course of action should be, Dan spotted you and called your name, waving you over to where he and Steve were standing. 
“Hi, good morning,” You greeted him, expertly avoiding eye contact with Steve because you didn’t want to see his reaction to seeing you for the first time in what pretty much felt like forever.
“Let me introduce you to the new addition to the History department upstairs,” Dan said and then gestured to Steve, which forced you to finally look at him. “Steve Harrington.” 
You could tell he was surprised to see you, but he hid that surprise by smiling at you, and you hated that even after all of these years, his smile still managed to do something to you. 
Now that you were closer to him, you could see some minor differences about him. His hair was a bit shorter, nothing too crazy or dramatic, but you noticed how his “iconic” hair was a bit more tame compared to how it used to be. And somehow he managed to get a little taller, only a couple of inches, but still you noticed that too. 
He overall looked older, which obviously made sense because twelve years would do that to a person. However, there was still something all too familiar about him. That same boyish presence that you had gotten so used to seeing still lingered on him. Behind his eyes, you saw exactly that boy you fell in love with that one summer. 
The summer that you never really thought about; in fact, you’d forced yourself not to think about it. But, now with him right in front of you, random flashbacks to moments from that July and August, especially August, were the only things circling your mind. 
Your loud laughs and wide smiles as you swam in his pool and let your body wrap around his underneath the water, your drunken talks until the sun came up, the makeout sessions in his car that almost always led to doing other things in his bed since his parents were never home. 
You pushed those memories far away, just as quickly as they resurfaced. 
“Hi,” You said to him and forced a small smile. 
You could tell that he was studying you just as you had been studying him, taking note of what you looked like now and comparing that to the version of you that he used to know. Whatever differences you had, you felt like they were subtle like his were, and just came with the territory of aging twelve years, but maybe he saw something else. He was the only person who you felt was able to actually look inside of you; he had known the ins and outs of who you were.   
“She’s a Professor in the English department,” Dan told Steve, and you were insanely grateful for Dan’s presence at that moment because you knew that it would be hell if you had been alone with Steve right then. “Oh, what happened to your hand?”
You looked down at your hand, somehow you had actually forgotten about the spill that happened only moments ago. 
“Little coffee mishap,” You said with a small, awkward laugh. “I have some napkins in my office, though, so I’m just going to head in there.” You looked at Steve and directed another forced smile at him, you had a feeling you’d be doing that a lot now. “Nice to meet you.” 
You mentioned something to Dan about seeing him at a faculty meeting later and then headed to your office, which was only about ten feet away. 
When it was just you alone behind the shut door of your office, your brain could finally process everything that had just happened. 
Steve was here. Not Hawkins, not Indiana, Rhode Island. And not only was he simply in Rhode Island, but he now worked at the college you had been working at for the past two and a half years. 
The only word you could think of at that moment was “Fuck,” and then you couldn’t help but mutter it under your breath. You took a sip of your coffee and let the familiar sweet and slightly bitter taste soothe your nerves.
Barely thirty minutes later— after trying your hardest to finish up the planning for a lecture you had been working on for the past few days but failing miserably because your mind couldn’t help but wonder why Steve was here of all places— you were stepping out of your office and almost crashed right into him.
“Jesus Christ,” You yelped; once again so surprised to see him. 
“I swear I was about to knock and this is just freakishly weird timing,” He quickly told you. “I wasn’t being a creep and waiting for you to come out.”  
“Okay,” You said with a small nod. Somehow his nervousness at that moment made you feel less nervous. “Um, what’s up?”
“Can we talk, maybe?”
“I have a class in fifteen minutes, so I can’t now,” You told him as you glanced down at the watch on your wrist. “But, um, maybe soon, yeah?” 
You were completely lying, there was no way you were going to talk to him soon; at least not about what you assumed he wanted to talk about. You refused to do that.
Luckily Steve couldn’t see through your lie, or if he did, he didn’t call you out on it. Instead, he nodded at your words before you walked away.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“'cause i knew you. steppin' on the last train marked me like a bloodstain. i knew you. tried to change the ending peter losing wendy.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Somehow, and much to your grateful surprise, you rarely ever saw Steve. And when you did, because he was only just upstairs so it was sort of inevitable, there were only quick passing glances shared between you two along with tight-lipped smiles and small waves; both of you too busy to have any kind of actual conversation with one another.  
However, you did manage to learn a few things about him over the past month he’d been there. You heard through the grapevine— said grapevine being various faculty members that seemed to grow a quick liking to Steve— that he was taking over Tamara Wilson’s two Early European History classes for the rest of the Fall semester because she went on maternity leave, and in the Spring he’d be teaching it again along with a U.S. history course. 
None of that information answered the one question constantly running through your mind, though. 
What the hell was he doing here?
Because you had to admit, you were so curious to know about all of it. How he was here, why he was here, how this coincidence could’ve happened. 
But, you also really didn’t want to talk to him because you had the strongest feeling that the conversation would also involve the past, that summer, and how much you didn’t want that to happen outweighed your curiosity.
Therefore, on the night of the college’s annual Winter Gala, the first instance that could actually allow you two to talk to one another, you still tried your hardest to avoid him. 
You had always hated these kinds of events because they were solely used to schmooze alumni and other donors to get them to give the school money, and even though you understood the need for that, you still didn’t enjoy attending. However, you knew that you always had to show face, at least for an hour or two. 
And you made it nearly an hour and a half without having to see Steve and you were almost certain that you actually wouldn’t see him. But, moments before you were about to make your final rounds and say goodbye to people, mainly Dan so you could prove to him that you’d shown up, you felt a tap on your shoulder. 
It was almost too easy to know that it was Steve because it was only his touch that ever managed to send something equivalent to an electric shock through your body. And with the strapless black dress you were wearing, his hand making contact with your bare shoulder immediately made surprised goosebumps rise to your skin. 
“Hi,” He said, offering a small smile. Somehow the first thing you noticed about him was the bow tie he was wearing. He was also wearing a black suit with a white button-up shirt, but the bow tie caught your eye first. You were immediately reminded of a memory of him saying how much he hated bow ties, but you had told him how great he looked in one. In this moment, you hated how right you still were. 
“Hey,” You responded with a smile of your own, and you sincerely hoped he couldn’t see your nervousness through it. He opened his mouth to say something but you jumped in before he could. “How’s your first month here been so far?” 
“Good,” Steve answered with a nod. “A little weird just jumping in at the middle of the semester and trying to go along with what Wilson already set on the syllabus. A weekly quiz was on there, and I immediately told the students that we wouldn’t be doing that anymore.”
“They probably love you for that.”
“Yeah, I got a round of applause on my first day.” 
You couldn’t help but smile at that, you were only fifty percent sure that he was joking, but either way, the thought amused you.
You wanted to ask when he got into history and into teaching, but maybe that question would open a can of worms that would lead to other topics of conversation you wanted to stay away from. 
“I can guarantee that at least half of them will want to be in your class next semester,” You said instead of asking what you really wanted. “You’re gonna be doing U.S. History, right?”
“Yeah, and I’ll still be taking over for Wilson, so I’ll have three courses next semester, which should be interesting,” Steve nodded, and then a look crossed his face as if he just remembered something. “But, that probably sounds like nothing to you because I heard that you’re currently doing four American Lit courses and one British Lit course. Oh, and you’re the only person in the English department teaching that many courses, which sounds insane but that’s also pretty cool.” 
You pretended as if now knowing that he had asked about you didn’t affect you at least a tiny bit. And you also pretended that hearing the admiration in his voice didn’t affect you at all either.  
“Yeah, I’ve only been teaching here for a little over two years, so I still get stuck with most of the basic courses. Which isn’t horrible, but it’s pretty boring and easy, so I always do a lot,” You told him with a small shrug. All of the work that had been on your plate for the past few years sounded like a lot— maybe even too much— but in your mind, it actually wasn’t as crazy as it seemed. Because you liked drowning yourself in your job, it made you feel useful, and you’d spent so much time before and right after you left Hawkins feeling the exact opposite that you’d do almost anything to make sure you never felt that way again. “But, next semester I’m doing an advanced Creative Writing course for the first time, in addition to only two American Lit courses, so I’m pretty excited about that.”
Steve smiled at you. “That’s nice.”
This small talk felt okay to you, it was bearable. It was also mundane and a little trivial, but you’d rather that than talk about the past. Apparently, Steve had other plans, though.
“I had no idea you moved here.”
You pulled your eyes away from his and focused on your half-empty flute of champagne that you’d gotten when you arrived at the event and was probably disgustingly warm by now. You contemplated for a few moments whether or not you should avoid Steve’s question or allow the conversation to go in the direction that it was inevitably meant to go in. Maybe it was stupid to think that you’d be able to pretend as if your past, which Steve was quite involved in, never existed. 
“Yeah… I went to college in Massachusetts and then I went to grad school here in Rhode Island but in a different part of the state, a little more north. And I always just stayed here, always finding a reason to stay around, some small internship or job, and then I ended up at this college because a friend who was already working here recommended me. I had never done any teaching before, but I actually like it.”
You didn’t tell him that the main reason why you always found a reason— more so desperately searched for reasons— to stay in Rhode Island was so that you never had to go back to Hawkins. But, maybe that was obvious, at least to him, because he was a huge factor as to why you knew that you needed to leave that town and never look back. 
You silently wondered if he had been gone from Hawkins for a long time too, and then you realized that with the turn the conversation had taken, you could actually ask that question.
“When did you leave Hawkins?” 
“Almost ten years ago now,” Steve said, and you had to admit, you were kind of surprised by that answer. To you, he always seemed like the type of person that would want to stay in the small town. “Decided it was time for a scenery change and my parents, especially my dad, were more than happy to send me anywhere.” He let out a dry and slightly sad chuckle, and you were all too quickly reminded of why you had always despised his parents. “He pulled some strings at this small college in Ohio, so I went there and actually liked it a lot, and I haven’t been back to Hawkins since.”
You two were sitting at an empty table now, somehow silently agreeing to migrate to that spot as you continued your conversation. You placed the glass in your hand on the white tablecloth and turned to look at Steve. 
“When did you get into history?”
“My first semester I had this professor for a World History class and he was really great; Richard James. It was probably the first class ever that I actually cared about what was going on because of how he was teaching everything and I became pretty interested in history. I took a couple more history classes with him and some other professors too, and still really liked it so I changed my major to it. And after I graduated I started TA-ing for some of the advanced classes he was teaching.”
There was a smile on your face that you wanted to get rid of but couldn’t because it was just so nice to hear how happy Steve was as he talked about the past almost ten years of his life. You hated to admit it, and you’d probably never do so out loud, but there was still a part of you that cared about him so much, and you were glad that he was happy. 
“And then I ended up here because last month Richard was supposed to do a talk here, but he got sick last second and asked me to fill in for him. And for some reason, the head of the History department really liked me and offered me a job.”
You had never been the biggest fan of history so it wasn’t that surprising that you had missed the first time that Steve had been here, but your mind couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if your paths had accidentally crossed then.
“I want you to know, though, that if I would’ve known that you also worked here, I wouldn’t have taken the job,” Steve told you, somehow pretty much reading your mind and answering your unasked question. “Because I know you left Hawkins because of me. Because you never wanted to see me again, which I completely understand.”
His words right then surprised you and you had no idea what to say in response to that; your thoughts started running a million miles a second and you could only look down at your hands in your lap. But then you didn’t have to say anything because Steve kept talking. 
“I’m still really sorry about everything that happened.” 
You were so close to telling him to stop talking about it. You were fully ready to make up some lie about how the past was in the past, and how you were over everything that happened twelve years ago. 
But, right then you actually didn’t want to lie and pretend that none of it mattered. You didn’t want to avoid the past like a plague, as you’d been doing for the past decade, and like you especially had been doing for the past month since Steve showed up in Rhode Island. 
However, it couldn’t happen here. In the school’s basketball court that had been transformed for the evening into a ballroom-type of elegant space. No one was paying attention to either of you, but the potential for someone to come up at any moment while you were finally having this conversation with Steve worried you. 
You finally let your eyes meet his again. “Can we talk about this outside?” 
Steve nodded as you stood up and he followed you out the nearest door. 
It was dark outside, the time now nearing on ten o’clock, but the many lamp posts brightened up the emptiness of the quad. You found a bench and sat down, the cool metal against your back calmed your nerves a bit. 
You were suddenly reminded of the last time you and Steve talked to each other before you left Hawkins, which was about a month into Senior year at a random party at Rachel McKenna’s house. It was barely even a conversation because you refused to listen to him and his slew of apologies back then. And then you also refused to talk to him for the entirety of the school year. 
You were still unsure if you had any regrets about that. 
“I really don’t even know where to start,” You said now with a small sigh. “I always forced myself to never think about us; about that summer and the aftermath of it too. For the longest time I pretended as if none of it really mattered. Because I knew that we no longer mattered to each other.”
“You always mattered to me,” Steve told you and it was almost too easy to hear the honesty in his tone. 
Still, you were quick to shake your head at him. “Stop, you can’t say stuff like that.”
“But, it’s the truth.”
You bypassed that softly spoken statement because even though you could hear that he was being honest, you didn’t want to acknowledge it right then. So, instead, you focused on something else that he previously said. 
“You’re right. You were the main reason that I left Hawkins, not the only reason but definitely one of the big ones. But, it’s also funny because you were one of the reasons why I almost wanted to stay.” Your next words sat right on the tip of your tongue, but they were almost too hard to get out. You cleared your throat and took a quick breath before speaking. “Because I loved you, I literally loved you. So much. But, I knew that I couldn’t, or that I shouldn’t, because nothing could actually happen between us. That summer we were living in a dumb fairytale that could never become a reality. And it was so fucking stupid of me to ever think that we could actually be something real.”
“I wanted us to be something real,” Steve said and you had to bite back the scoff you wanted to let out in response. 
“Yeah, weeks after you told me that what we were doing would have to be over because it was the end of summer and Nancy was coming back to town,” You said, trying hard not to let yourself get thrust back into that memory because the exact words he had said to you that day were still etched in your mind. “But, when we abruptly ended, it finally put everything into perspective for me. I felt like such a shitty person because of what we did and how it was a fucked up thing to do. And then immediately having to pretend as if none of it ever happened made it all feel so much worse. I hated you, but I hated myself so much more for everything that happened. That’s why I never wanted to see you or talk to you again, especially at that stupid party.”
You hadn’t realized you were crying until a soft look took over Steve’s face and you suddenly felt the wetness on your cheeks. You haphazardly wiped them away and averted your eyes from his, feeling immensely embarrassed because you hated that talking about all of that, things from years and years ago, still made you cry like you were that seventeen-year-old girl all over again. 
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry you felt that way,” Steve told you. “But, it was all so much more my fault than it was yours. I was the one that cheated on her.” 
“But, I knew. I knew about Nancy, and I knew that what we were doing was wrong.” But, I still did it because I wanted you so bad, and I loved that you wanted me too. You didn’t say that part because you hated the way it would make you sound. 
“Still, it will always be more my fault. I was such an asshole back then. All of that ‘King Steve’ stuff really got to my head and I did a lot of shitty things,” He said, and you could tell that he wasn’t proud of that part of his past and he really did feel bad about it. “But, I don’t regret you, or us, or that summer, though. And maybe that still makes me somewhat of an asshole, but that’s okay because it’s true. I don’t regret you. Not at all.”
Somehow hearing him say those words made you realize that you didn’t regret any of it either, which was a thought that actually made you want to cry harder. Because even though you should’ve regretted everything because of every single thing that happened after— the hurt and shame you felt so strongly for months after— you knew that you’d let yourself do it all over again. 
You’d still stupidly talk to him for the first time ever outside “Ralph’s Sandwich Shop” after he mocked you on the fact that you liked to put potato chips inside your sandwich and then praised you once he tried it and realized how good it was. And you’d definitely still let him kiss you for the first while swimming in his pool in the middle of the night after whispering to him, “Are you sure?” and his answer being a small nod and his lips pressing against yours that led to the chain of events that brought you both to where you were now.  
You wholeheartedly knew that you’d do it all over again. And because of that, it made you say your next statement.  
“I don’t want to be angry and upset with you anymore, or pretend you don't exist. I want us to be okay with each other.”
“I want that too. I want us to be friends,” Steve said, and although being friends was a lot different from simply being okay with one another, it actually didn’t sound like too crazy of an idea to you. 
You nodded at him. “Okay. Yeah, me too.”
You held out your hand for Steve to take, which he did, and the two of you shook hands to seal this “deal.”
Your gaze broke from his and you glanced down a bit. “Nice bow tie, by the way.”
“I remember someone told me that I looked good in them and I believed her.”
“She’s still right.”
“Good to know.”
You both smiled at each other and then laughed, and it may have taken twelve years, but it finally felt like the past was really in the past.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“but i knew you. dancin' in your levi's, drunk under a streetlight. i knew you. hand under my sweatshirt, baby, kiss it better.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Spring Semester 1997 
It was during the most random of moments that you were startled by how close you were able to become with Steve again, and how almost too easily it was able to happen. 
Joking around with one another actually felt normal to do, and even talking to each other about anything and everything somehow felt like second nature all over again.  
Steve was the one person from your “before” life that you had wholeheartedly believed you never wanted to see again, and now you were glad that he was in your life again. Those stark lines between “before” and “after” that you had drawn twelve years ago were now completely smudged.
Sometimes when the two of you were in your or his office late at night simultaneously working on whatever you needed to while eating takeout from random places, you were hit with the thought, “Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m here with Steve fucking Harrington right now,” and when you would tell him that random thought, he’d laugh a bit and agree that this sudden turn of events did feel at least a little unexpected. 
But, he liked how things changed these past few months, and you really did too.  
Now it was you asking to use the shower in his hotel room that once again made you feel surprised by how comfortable you were with him. 
“Can I use your shower? The one in my room doesn’t get hot for some reason,” You had said and then immediately laughed because of how insane the request was, but of course, Steve didn’t mind. 
“Yeah, sure,” He answered with a nod of his head, opening his door further to fully let you in the room.
“Thank you,” You said, smiling at him as you walked in, a towel from your hotel room next door in hand along with a change of clothes. “I’m gonna tell the front desk about it tomorrow. I would do it now, but after the four-hour drive today, I actually feel disgusting and am in dire need of a shower.”
The two of you along with a handful of other faculty from the English, History, and Theology departments were in upstate New York for a small weekend-long conference. Things like that were definitely one of your favorite parts of your job. Hearing talks from the authors of books that you loved, and then being able to pick their brains afterward. It felt like you were a student all over again, but in a better way because you were only listening to the stuff you cared about. 
It was also pretty endearing seeing how excited Steve was about everything too. He’d gone on and on about a lecture on World War II that was scheduled for tomorrow for at least an hour during your car ride together, and his happy rambling somehow made you want to go to it too.  
“I haven’t taken a shower yet, so I actually don’t know if mine works either,” Steve told you as you headed toward the bathroom. 
“Oh God, please don’t say that,” You responded and went to turn on the shower. You sighed in relief when you felt the water get warm on your hand. “Okay, we’re good!” 
After your shower, you joined Steve where he was sitting at the foot of his bed. It probably would’ve made sense to head back to your room, both of you had to be up fairly early in the morning, but you didn’t necessarily want to leave just yet; even though the two of you had just spent the past four hours holed up in a car together. 
He was clicking through channels on the small television placed atop the dresser, trying to decide on something to put on, before settling on a movie that looked quite familiar to you; Footloose. It was the movie that the two of you watched the first time you went over to his house that summer.
“Do you remember this movie?” He smiled at you and it was hard not to laugh at his question.
You met his gaze. “I definitely remember, but do you? Because you fell asleep during it.”
“I eventually got around to watching it,” He responded and you smiled at that.
“Good,” You told him as you pulled your eyes away from his and turned your attention back toward the television, the movie was close to the end. 
When the credits started rolling ten minutes later, you were about to say goodnight to Steve and finally head back next door to your room, but he started speaking before you said anything. 
“Do you ever wonder how different things would be now if we had ended up together back then?” He asked, and the vulnerability and genuine curiosity laced within the question made your heart constrict. “If I hadn’t been an idiot and gone back to Nancy at the end of the summer. If I realized earlier that I really wanted to be with you.” 
His words actually managed to surprise you because, over the last few months of you and Steve becoming friends again, that part of your deeply intertwined past was something that neither of you talked about. What the two of you used to be to each other, so deeply and utterly in love, hadn’t once come up in your conversations. Maybe it was the elephant in the room that had yet to be addressed. However, a part of you also felt that it was unnecessary to talk about it because, just like everything else, that was also in the past. 
“Things would’ve definitely been different,” You ultimately said, words feeling unsure because you now felt so confused. Your next statements came out rushed as you leaned back on the bed, your back hitting the comforter and your hands covering your face because you were purposefully avoiding eye contact with him. “Sorry, I don’t really know what to say right now. I didn’t expect you to say that, and now my mind is kinda spiraling a bit.” 
The question became a broken record in your mind. 
Do you ever wonder how different things would be now if we had ended up together back then?
You actually had never wondered about that because, for the longest time, you had forced yourself not to think about Steve, or that summer, or even Hawkins in general. But now your brain was spiraling in a thousand different directions with potential answers to the simply stated but insanely loaded question. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. I don’t even know why I asked it, honestly,” Steve responded, words coming out rushed just as yours had. Something about his current sudden nervousness reminded you of the first encounter you two had in the hallway when you learned that he lived in Rhode Island. “Please forget I said anything.” 
You didn’t want to forget, though. 
“It would’ve been good, I think,” You said softly. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you still didn’t want to meet his gaze. “I think we would’ve been really good together. I wouldn’t have spent almost every day working at the library, and instead, I would’ve gone to your basketball games and swim meets, and I’d actually enjoy it all because I was watching you. And we would’ve gotten drunk at parties on the weekends, and then the next morning you’d still drive me to my shift at the library and stay the entire time because there was nothing else that you wanted to spend your Sunday morning and afternoon doing. Maybe after graduating, we would’ve chosen colleges somewhere close to Hawkins, or even somewhere so far away from the small town. Probably someplace far away. But that part of it doesn’t really matter because we would’ve been together, and that’s all that would have mattered.” 
There was really no doubt in your mind that that would’ve happened, or a different but similar version occurring that also included you and Steve simply being happy and in love with one another.
You felt the bed shift a bit after a few moments of your previous words lingering in the air of the hotel room and settling heavily over Steve, and you finally pulled your hands away from your face to look at him. He was now also leaning back against the bed and staring up at the ceiling.
“God, I was such a dumbass,” He muttered, and you could hear the sadness in his voice.
You turned on your side to face him. “We both were. I wish I let myself forgive you at that party.” 
“I didn’t deserve your forgiveness then,” He responded as he turned on his side as well and met your eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I barely deserve it now.” 
There was so much you could’ve said in response to that but words didn’t feel right in that moment. So, instead of saying something along the lines of, “Please stop beating yourself up about it. You’re a good person,” you shimmied yourself closer to him, closing the small gap of space between you two, and pulled him in for a hug. 
The position was awkward, one of your arms was sandwiched underneath him and you knew that it would almost immediately fall asleep and cause some discomfort. However, any and all awkwardness faded away when you felt Steve reciprocate and his arms circled around you. 
“It’s okay, okay? I promise everything is okay between us,” You whispered, almost certain that your words got lost in his neck, but when you felt him squeeze you tighter you knew that he was able to hear you clearly. And not only that, but he believed you. 
And then it felt like almost second nature for you to make a joke to make things feel light again. “Actually, I’m still offended that you fell asleep during Footloose the first time we ever hung out. I don’t forgive you for that.” 
You felt his body shake with laughter which made you smile, and after a few moments, you pulled back from the hug to find him smiling softly at you. 
“I’ll redeem myself when the sequel comes out,” He said. 
“It’s been twelve years, I think the sequel ship has sailed.”
He laughed again. “Okay, yeah, that’s true.”
You should’ve taken the newfound silence as your opportunity to say goodnight to him and head next door to your room. However, you couldn’t find the will to fully pull yourself away from him. His arms were still around you, like yours were, and your faces were dangerously close. But, the current proximity didn’t feel dangerous or worrisome to you. Instead, it simply felt right; which was an abrupt feeling that should’ve confused you, but somehow it didn’t. 
“I really missed you,” He told you, breaking the silence with a statement that only cemented that “rightness” you were feeling at that moment. 
“I missed you too.” Your four words somehow felt so effortlessly honest. Even though you had pretended that he and that summer never mattered by forcing your thoughts away from it all, Steve always still held a place in your heart. Deep down inside of you, something that resembled a yearning for him almost always lingered. “I constantly tried to tell myself that that wasn’t true, but I really did miss you… And I’m so glad we’re here right now.” 
“Me too.” He looked at you so softly that you felt yourself slowly melting under his gaze.
In your mind, which now suddenly felt so clear and the farthest thing from confused, the next thing you wanted to do seemed like the best thing to do. In fact, it was something that you felt like you needed to do. 
Your hand that was resting at the nape of Steve’s neck moved to his cheek as you dipped your head just a tiny bit closer to him. 
Steve closed the small gap some more and his lips ghosted over yours for what felt like a fraction of a second before he pulled back a little and looked at you. “Are you sure?”
“Now that sounds awfully familiar,” You joked, referring to that moment in his pool all those years ago, and although he cracked a smile at your statement, you knew his question was serious. 
You weren’t kids anymore. The two of you couldn’t just kiss and let it mean nothing in the end. 
But, you truly didn’t want it to mean nothing. 
You couldn’t have a good ending back then, but did that mean that you still couldn’t have one now? 
“I’m so sure about this,” You told him and before he could potentially respond with anything, you let your lips find his, and how quickly Steve kissed you back nonverbally told you how he felt about it all too.
You were completely done for, you knew that for certain. There was nothing that could compare to this and there would never be anything that could compare to this— Steve’s lips on yours for the first time in years, but it feeling like the last time it happened was only yesterday. It was all so innate and easy, probably the easiest thing you’d ever done. 
The way his hand found your waist to pull you even closer to him, which made you inwardly smile, and the way you let your fingers settle in his hair and lightly tug on the brown locks, which elicited a soft sigh in contentment from him— you still knew every part of each other so well. 
Two people that had been apart for so long finally coming back together. It was a statement that technically summed up you and Steve, but in your eyes, that felt too simple and didn’t accurately summarize the hurt, pain, and turmoil that had accompanied the past twelve years. And it especially didn’t correctly encompass the current part of it all, the “coming back together” part. 
Because that part felt indescribable. 
A part of it felt similar to watching a movie that ended just the way you wanted it to, or having someone right there to help you get back up and patch up your wounds after you’d fallen off your bike. A feeling that said that even though everything had once felt so uncertain and the complete opposite of perfect, it wasn’t that way anymore. 
Things quickly felt so good and right, and both of you were already making internal promises— promises that you’d later whisper to one another while wrapped up in the sheets of Steve’s bed— to never let each other go so easily again.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“​​and i knew you'd come back to me. you’d come back.��
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
let me know ur thoughts<333
(read “august” here!)
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marlynnofmany · 6 months
Text
Finger Talking
Captain Sunlight had said that these clients didn’t speak any trade language she’d ever learned, and as I caught sight of the two intelligent being who looked like the end result of what happens if hummingbirds nudge into anteaters’ ecological niche, I didn’t find that hard to believe.
They were green-feathered, flightless birds, with long beaks, longer tongues, and clawed feet dexterous enough to type out messages on the big keyboard they had laid out on the ground. It looked like the kind of thing I would have danced on as a kid. I pretended that I wasn’t imagining doing that now, as the shorter of the two sent a message onto the display screen that they wanted to haggle.
Mur stepped forward, tapping my ankle with a tentacle to say he had it covered. “Oh, you want to pay more? Double price, please.”
The beaky birds were of course grumpy about this. The short one typed quickly in a fashion that I was amused to realize was hunt-and-peck.
I looked down at Mur, who was cheerfully braiding grass with two tentacles, and waving several others like he was conducting an invisible squid orchestra. He was enjoying himself.
The screen beeped that the message was ready. It read, “We know our rocks are valuable to you. Ten barrels of your rocks for each barrel of our rocks.”
Okay, I hadn’t actually known the price that had been set ahead of time for this little exchange. These folks didn’t use standard currency, so when they sent out a request via random traveler for someone to bring them coal — something that was scarce their planet — in trade for shiny rocks that they had in abundance, Captain Sunlight had gone for it.
And if the rough gemstones bedazzling the cart that these birds had come in were any sign, we were about to make a very good deal no matter what the exchange rate was.
Mur said, “Two for one is already pretty generous. I’ll raise it to three, how about that?”
The birds conferred with each other briefly, making noises that echoed like someone trilling their tongue down a long tube — which was a pretty accurate description of what was happening, really. The short one typed in a reply.
I caught a glimpse of “8 for 1” before the alien technology did what technology everywhere does best: it failed unexpectedly. The screen spasmed wild patterns before going dark, and no amount of punching the keys made it light up again.
“Hm,” Mur said to me. “This could put a crimp in things. Maybe we should call Coals or Trrili?”
“They mostly do written translation,” I said. “And Trrili doesn’t strike me as the tactful sort.”
Mur twirled a tentacle to say I’d made a good point, while the birds tried to revive their tech with no luck. “I guess we just throw out numbers until we hit on something they look happy with,” he said. “This is going to be rough.”
“It shouldn’t be too bad,” I said. “At least they’ve learned the language, even though they can’t speak it. Honestly, I’ve had worse conversations before my vet training covered Gorilla Sign Language.”
He looked up at the unfamiliar word. “Nationality?”
“Species. Long story. Remind me to tell you about Citizen Animals on Earth.”
The birds were starting to disassemble the keyboard casing, using their claws like precision tools (though the tall one gave me the impression that more vigorous smashing was an eagerly-anticipated Plan B). They looked up when I stepped forward, holding up fingers.
“Five for one.” I flicked the fingers one at a time to count. “Five of ours, for one of yours.”
They caught on immediately, and luckily for all of us, they had the right number of talon-fingers to make this primitive conversation work.
Mur was no help, standing two steps back and holding up excessive numbers of tentacles, entertaining only himself. The birds and I managed to ignore him.
We settled on seven-for-one. I could have pushed for six, but I felt bad for them, and anyway I knew that we had the coal already portioned out into fourteen crates. The math was easier this way.
As we walked back toward the ship, to start bringing out the crates that Blip and Blop were unloading at the door, Mur chuckled beside me. “That was fun. I want to come up with ways to communicate like that more. Maybe cheating at table games.”
“I’d offer to teach you some actual sign language,” I said, “But everything I know is designed with fingers in mind.”
“That’s okay. I don’t need proper language to beat the scales off Eggskin. C’mon, it’ll be great. I’ll win several rounds in a row, they’ll get annoyed and demand to know how, I’ll explain, then refuse to give any winnings back. Perfect plan. Great times.”
I had to smile at that. “We’ll see,” I said. “First let’s finish the actual business.”
“Yep, yep, can’t forget that,” Mur agreed. “Maybe we’ll play table games with expensive rocks as tokens, like the high-society snobs we all are.”
“Sounds like great times to me,” I said.
~~~
The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!
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