#a lot of these relationships are Pushing It™️

[awesumsaus]

cave

wc: 6.5k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

part two of pretty when I cry

summary: Ever the man of his word, your boyfriend Joel finally fulfills your need to have him claim that secret little part of you.

a/n: welcome back besties. thank you so much to everyone that checked out part one, I seriously can’t believe the response it’s gotten. again please heed the warnings and skip of you don’t think this is for you. otherwise hope y’all enjoy my absolutely depraved writing 

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, very needy/emotional reader, joel can pick reader up (I’m convinced this man could lift anyone), smut smut smut literal porn (ok a TINY bit of plot), established relationship, age gap (not really mentioned in this one), so much daddy kink, dd/lg dynamics, tiny bit of degradation kink, whole lot of praise kink, joel tummy™️, spanking, unprotected pinv, oral (m receiving), plug use, ass eating (brief), anal sex, subspace, joel is still a consent king, fluffy aftercare (these bitches are in love)

It wasn’t until two weeks later that either of you brought it up. You’d been thinking about it, that morning, admittedly far too often. The way his fingers and tongue explored the very hidden spots of your body, pushed the limit of what you can and can’t handle. But you couldn’t ask him, couldn’t be the first one to bring it up. It was the game the two of you played, you being far too shy to voice this filthy little need, and Joel far too teasing to give it up without you asking.

But it was becoming unbearable, thoughts of him arising at the most inopportune times, whether that be when you were laying in bed at home, alone while Joel was working a double shift, or at work when there were millions of other tasks you should be focusing on, but all you could think about was your boyfriend finally claiming that secret little part of you. 

And so tonight you’d decided to put an end to your suffering, devising your own little plan to set things in motion, one that you were comfortable with, and that you knew Joel wouldn’t object to. 

The two of you were getting ready, having made plans to meet Joel’s brother for dinner at 7. It was already 6:30 by the time you finished your hair, still dressed in nothing but one of Joel’s t-shirts and a lacy thong. Usually, your lateness was just a result of you losing track of time, trying to tame flyaways, or pausing to belt out one of the songs that came up on your playlist. Little did Joel know that this time around you were stalling, working up the courage to present him with your latest purchase. 

You glance over to the open vanity drawer, and a tinge of excitement spreads up your spine when you see it. A small thing, silver all except for the red heart-shaped jewel at the end of it. You reach for it, the metal cold against your fingertips, a contrast to the heat that spreads up your neck at the thought of what comes next. 

Running your hands through your hair one last time, you exit the bathroom to see Joel, fully dressed and rummaging through one of his dresser drawers. The way the fabric of his dark green sweater stretches around his broad shoulders makes your stomach flip. 

You pad over to him, hands held behind your back, clearing your throat and he turns. He immediately registers the hesitance in your movements. “I um- I got you something.” You look up at him through your lashes, putting on your most innocent guise. 

“S’ that right?” He quirks an eyebrow, already holding back a smirk. His focus turns to his wrist, snapping in place the silver band of the watch you’d gifted him this past Christmas. It was a simple thing, nothing too fancy. You would’ve gotten him something nicer, something more high-end, but the year-end bonus you’d been hoping for never came. Still, Joel insisted that it was the greatest gift he’d ever been given, bullshit, but it still put a smile on your face whenever he wore it. 

“You promise you won’t laugh?” His smirk widens. 

“Why would I laugh?”

“Just promise!” You frown at him before giving his chest a little shove, but he’s quick to respond, grabbing your wrist and pulling, closing the space between you.

“Promise.” You say it softer this time, looking up at him, ignoring the way your thighs instinctively clench from how far you have to bend your neck just to meet his gaze. 

“I promise.” He plants a kiss on your forehead, his expression softening. “I won’t laugh.”

And he doesn’t. In fact, his smirk falls completely when you reveal what’s in your free hand, extending your palm to him. He takes it from you, turning it over in his fingers, something darkens in his eyes. 

“Dirty little girl,” he says under his breath, his attention still focused on the small metal plug in his hand. He turns away from you for only a moment to grab his phone from the dresser. 

“What are you doing?”

“Textin’ Tommy that we’re gonna be late,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“No wait, I’ll be quick. I’m almost ready-“

“Uh-uh, baby.” He takes exacting steps towards you, forcing you to retreat backward, nearly falling over when your calves meet the edge of his bed. “Not goin’ anywhere yet.” He swiftly turns you, manhandling you against his chest, and dips his mouth to your ear. “Bend over.”

A shiver runs down your spine, yet you can’t ignore the heat continuing to spread across your face. “R-right now? Joel, are you serious?”

“You bet I am.” His hand comes down with a firm slap to your ass and you gasp, the arm he’s looped around your midsection keeping you from falling forward onto the bed. Wet drips from your core when he does the same to the other side. “Thought you were gonna get away with this, baby? F’ you’re gonna act like a fucking whore, I’m gonna treat you like one. Bend over.”

You shudder slightly at his words, but do as he says, slowly lowering your upper half, whining when he pushes you the last few inches, your brain already gone fuzzy from the roughness of his movements. A part of you expected this, knew that Joel wouldn’t accept your gift and just move on with the rest of the night. So it’s no surprise that when he pulls your thong to the side, your pussy is already glistening with slick. 

“Jesus, baby,” he lets out a breath behind you, running his knuckles along your seam making you shiver. “Always so fucking wet, so ready f’ me.”

“Just for you, Daddy,” you sigh against the mattress, rocking your lower half back, seeking friction. 

Joel lets out a strangled grunt from behind you, one hand squeezing your ass cheek. It’s taking everything in him not to ruin you right then and there, but he restrains himself, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t make it out the front door if he gave in. 

You suck in a breath when the cold metal presses against your cunt, slipping through your folds with ease, gathering slick. “Gonna be able to behave yourself at dinner, baby? Don’t want Tommy gettin’ suspicious.”

You whimper slightly as the tip presses into the cleft of your ass, squirming at the action and the almost belittling tone of his voice. “Don’t want him to know how much of a goddamn slut you are for me, huh?” He delivers another stinging slap just as the plug breaches your tight hole. “Answer me.”

“I-I’ll behave!” The words tumble from your mouth. “I’ll be good, daddy- p-promise.”

“I know, baby. Always such a good girl f’ me.” His words are so dizzying you don’t even realize that he’s fitted the plug completely inside of you until his knuckles graze your ass. It’s not what you had expected, not painful or uncomfortable in any way. It feels good, being this full, the slight stretch making your lower half shake with anticipation. 

“That feel okay, pretty girl?” His voice softens the same way it always does when he’s checking in with you. 

“Mhm,” you nod against the mattress, a content smile spread across your face. 

“Good. Now go get dressed ‘fore Tommy starts askin’ questions.”

He plants one last slap on your bottom, softer than the others, but the way it reverberates across your skin and through the toy now deep inside you makes you gasp, your senses now on high alert. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

You make it through the better part of dinner without any slip-ups, just a regular evening with your boyfriend and his brother who you’ve come to befriend over your time knowing him.

You’re barely paying attention, focused on the story Tommy is telling when Joel curves a finger through the back loop of your jeans and pulls. You choke on your water at the sudden feeling, the seam of your jeans digging into you, pressing tightly against the toy you’d nearly forgotten about at this point. Something white-hot shoots up your spine and settles in your lower belly. Tommy pauses and shoots you a worried look as you cough unexpectedly, obviously unaware of Joel’s actions. You notice Joel holding back a smirk from the corner of your eye. 

“Woah- hey, ya alright darlin’?” Tommy asks, looking to Joel who’s started patting your back softly, a forced expression of concern written across his features. It takes everything in you not to slap the look right off his face then and there. 

“I’m fine, yeah- sorry.” You try to ignore the obvious blush spreading across your cheeks, still attempting to catch your breath while also fighting against the growing heat pulsing through your core. 

“You sure, honey? You’re all flushed,” Joel says. 

“Said I’m fine,” you almost snap at Joel, immediately regretting your tone when he shoots you a warning look, a brow raised as if daring you to continue.

“Sorry, Tommy.” You turn to the younger Miller, disregarding the way Joel’s palm has started kneading the flesh of your lower back, only making your head spin more. “Please go on. I’m alright.” He looks between the two of you a bit hesitantly for only a moment before continuing his story. 

And suddenly it’s all you can think about, the feeling of the plug pressing into your most sensitive spots, the fullness of it all, only made worse by Joel’s continuous teasing, his seemingly harmless touching. 

When you finally make it to Joel’s truck after bidding Tommy goodnight, you’re an absolute mess. Practically soaked through your panties, squirming against the leather of your seat. And Joel knows, revels in it, confirmed by the shit-eating grin he exhibits the entire ride home, while his hand softly grips the plushness of your thigh, only deepening your need. 

You’re on him as soon as you pass the threshold of his front door, clawing at his chest, a rabid little thing. He appeases you almost instinctively, pushing you against the opposite wall and pinning your wrists by your head as he roughly presses his mouth to yours. You writhe against his grip, whimpering when he takes his free hand to angle your jaw upward, giving his tongue access to plunge deep into your mouth. You hook a leg around his waist, grinding against his thigh, and finally, a tiny ounce of your ache dissipates. 

But just as quickly as it started, Joel removes himself from you, turning away and walking into the living room. He plops down on the couch, kicking his shoes off and leaning back against the cushions. The look on his face is maddening, cocky son of a bitch.

“C’mere,” he says from his seat on the couch, his legs spread wide. If you weren’t so painfully desperate you’d refuse him for being so smug, but luckily for Joel, you need him about as much as you need air to breathe in this moment. 

You can’t help but eye the growing tightness in his jeans as you approach him, the sight making you a little dizzy in your movements. He stops you when you attempt to straddle him, placing a hand firmly on your lower belly, and looking up at you with a devilish smile. He toys with the hem of your shirt between his fingers. Off. It’s all the command you need before crossing your arms over your body and lifting the fabric from your torso. 

Your shirt’s not even pulled over your head before his deft fingers are unbuttoning your pants and tugging them along with your panties down to your ankles. He leans forward, gripping your calf, and helps you step out of them, popping your shoes off in the process, and quickly tosses your clothes aside. His hand travels up your leg, sending goosebumps across your bare skin. A small yelp escapes your lips when he pulls you onto his lap by the back of your thigh, but you quickly melt into him as your knees sink into the couch on either side of him. 

He runs his hands up and down your sides and you shiver. “So sensitive, baby,” he tsks. You can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks from your desperation. It was pathetic really, how much you need him in this moment, how much your body craved even his lightest touch. It was pathetic really, how much of your need now dripped onto his still-clothed crotch, soaking through the material. 

His hands move to cup your tits, thumbing your already peaked nipples through the thin fabric before expertly unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothing. You’re suddenly all too aware of how clothed Joel is, a stark contrast to your naked form, yet the image sends another wave of slick weeping from your core. You allow your head to fall forward onto his shoulder, mouthing at his sweater to muffle your cries, when he tweaks one of your nipples between his fingers. 

“Sh, I know. I’ve got you, little one.” He continues his slow torment, smoothing his hands along your bare skin, his smirk growing with each of your whines and whimpers. You’re like putty in his hands, completely at his mercy, a plaything for him to do with what he pleases. Your breath hitches when his hands travel to your ass, two of his fingers pressing lightly against the now exposed plug, sending a jolt through your whole body. 

He brings his mouth to your ear, nips at it, before whispering “You want me to fuck you here, baby?“ He says it like a secret, only for the two of you to ever hear. That’s when everything starts to ache, the feeling in your lower belly so warm and unfurling, that you fear you may start sobbing if he doesn’t end his teasing soon. 

“Please, daddy.” You sniffle into the spot connecting his neck and shoulder. “Want it so bad, please.”

“Such good manners, baby.” One of his hands slides up your back to the nape of your neck where he grips you, pulling you back to meet his gaze. “M’ gonna give you what you want, sweet girl.” Your heart rate quickens, excitement bubbling in your chest.

“But not tonight.”

And just like that your heart sinks, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes at his sudden declination. You’d feel foolish for it, overly emotional if it wasn’t Joel’s lap you were sitting on. He knows how you get, how reactive you can be, especially when you have your heart set on something. You shake your head and lean away from him, your eyes casting down to your lap, shame beginning to bubble in your chest. You have the sudden urge to cover yourself, wrapping your arms around your chest, a little voice in the back of your head telling you that it’s your fault, that you’d done something wrong to make him deny you, deny himself, of this. 

“Hey,” he says it so so softly. His hands run up and down your biceps, as if he’s attempting to pull your focus from the insecurities he knows are settling in your brain “I’m not doing this to punish you, understand?” You sniffle again, a tear threatens to fall from your lower lashes. 

“Look at me,” he says sternly. You reluctantly meet his gaze. “Tell me you understand.”

You want to shake your head no, want to beg him to change his mind, whine and pout until he gives you what you want, but as much as you know Joel’s a man of his word, you also know he’s nearly impossible to sway once his mind is made up. 

“I understand.”

“Good.” 

He gives you a moment to collect yourself, thumbing your tears away and pulling you back against his chest. You unwrap your arms from yourself, instead latching them around Joel’s neck. “I’m gonna give you what you want, baby. Just gotta have some patience. Want this to be good for you.” He rubs your back soothingly, kissing your temple. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You can’t help the huff that escapes your lips at his words, because you like the hurt. Like being subject to his each and every desire, surrendered entirely to his control. Joel knows this, knew this from the first time you’d slipped and called him daddy while he fucked you into his kitchen counter, knew this when the next morning he caught you in his bathroom mirror, smiling at the finger-shaped bruises burgeoning across the flesh of your hips. 

Joel knows you like the hurt, and part of him can’t deny how utterly irresistible he finds you when you beg him to push just a little further, to be a little rougher. But he also knows where to draw the line, never inflicting enough pain to outweigh the pleasure he brings you. He’s had experience with establishing this limit, but never in past relationships had he found anyone to be as persistent as you, as stubborn, as needy. And though it isn’t always obvious, he needs you just the same. It’s what frustrates him the most, not your neediness, but the way in which it clouds his judgement, makes him forget how fragile you can be. So he wouldn’t, not tonight, not until he’s certain you won’t break. 

“Poor baby,” he coos when you grind down on his bulge, the rough fabric against your soft folds making you gasp. “I know you’re not used to being told no, huh?”

You let out a squeaking whine when you feel the rough skin of his hand cup the entirety of your sex. You instinctively buck into his touch. 

“You want daddy to take care ‘a this for you?”

“Mhm, please,” nodding your head against his chest. You almost cry when the pad of his finger finds your clit, swiping two delicate circles before pulling away. 

“Sh sh, I’ve got you, honey.” He lifts you slightly off his lap, a strangled sound erupting from your throat at the loss of contact, but he makes quick work with his zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to free his fully hardened cock, red and pulsing in his grip. 

“Come sit on daddy’s cock, baby.” His eyes glass over as he pumps his length once, twice before urging you forward. He taps the wide tip against your clit a few times and you swear you could come just from that before he’s lining up with your entrance, coating himself with your slick. 

He lets you go at your own pace, loosening his grip on your waist as you begin to sink down on him, inch by inch. He’d usually stretch you first, make you come around his fingers once or twice before letting you take him in his entirety. But not tonight, not with the steady flow of slick that’s been gushing from your heat all night. 

You shudder once he’s fully sheathed inside you, your clit twitching against his pelvis. He lets you adjust, squirm a bit in his lap, before he’s bucking up into you, a bit of his own impatience beginning to show. 

As much as you’ve needed Joel all night, you know his teasing has had its own effect on him. He’s been itching to be inside you since the moment you presented him with your little gift, it was all he could think about the entire evening, so it comes as no surprise that his movements quickly grow hurried. He fucks up into you at a frantic pace, meeting your little bounces with increasing force.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The combination of his cock pumping deep inside you and the toy sitting snug inside your asshole. It’s overwhelming, nerve endings you didn’t even know existed now buzzing within you. It’s only mere minutes before you’re clenching around him, right on the edge of release.

“Little cunt’s huggin’ me so tight, baby,” Joel pants, his movements stuttering. 

“Daddy-“ you gasp, “m’ ngh m’ gonna cum.”

“Fuck- that’s it baby,” he babbles, his fingers move to messily rub your clit. “That’s it pretty girl. Want you to cum on my cock then I’ll fill you up, yeah? So fucking full, baby. C’mon, cum for daddy.”

Your entire body convulses against him as you reach your peak, strings of curses and incoherent sounds slipping between your lips. Everything turns white behind your eyes, every inch of your skin on fire. He only fucks you harder, rubs his fingers against your clit faster. You don’t even realize you’re on the cusp of a second orgasm until he’s pressing his free hand against the heart-shaped jewel still sticking out of your ass, hitting something deep inside of you. Then you’re crashing down once more, sobbing as your grip tightens around his neck, completely enraptured in the feeling as he fucks up into you. 

“Good fuckin’ girl-“ a groan sounds from deep within his chest, a few more bucks of his hips before he cums, spilling into you with a slew of grunts and unintelligible praises. He only lets up once you’ve milked him dry, a combination of both your releases coating his length and further soaking his jeans. 

Joel comes back to earth first after he’s caught his breath and carefully pulled out of you. He stands and rids himself of his damp clothes, now just as bare you are, before wrapping his thick arms around you and pulling you from the couch. 

Later, after you’re both showered and Joel makes you a cup of your favorite tea, the two of you lay in bed, your head resting against his chest, tracing a finger along the broad expanse of him. You’ve committed just about every mark and freckle to memory by now from this exact spot. His hand lazily runs up and down your spine, as you mull over where things will go from here. 

A week. You talked him into a week. A week of doing exactly as he says, with no attempting to convince him otherwise. You’ll wear the plug when he tells you to, for as long as he tells you to. A week and then he’ll divulge that secret little part of you that he’s yet to claim. 

Joel lasts till Thursday. 

He’s done for the moment he arrives home from work to you sprawled across his bed, book in hand, with nothing on but a tight-fitting t-shirt and a barely-there thong. You knew what you were doing, knew it was exactly what Joel told you not to do, tempting him to go back on his word and cave. You notice his eyes darken the moment he enters the bedroom, his gaze falling to the red heart poking through the fabric of your panties. The same one he stuffed inside you before sending you off to work this morning, the one you were sorely reminded of every time you shifted too quickly in your desk chair. 

“Hey baby,” you smile sweetly at him. You swear you hear him grumble as he makes his way to the closet, pulling his sweaty work shirt off and tossing it into the hamper. You mark your page and set your book aside before stretching out across the comforter like a cat in the sun. The muscles in Joel’s shoulders tense when a soft sigh slips from your lips. 

You nearly skip over to him, wrapping your arms around his midsection before he has the chance to pull on a clean shirt. He lets out a heavy breath at the feeling of your small fingers splaying across his bare stomach. 

“How was your day?” you ask, pressing against him more firmly, your head resting below his shoulder blades. 

“Fine,” he responds, his tone suspecting. You feel his breath catch as you press small kisses to his spine. 

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today,” your voice goes softer, a hidden plea behind your words. 

“S’ that right?” His severity wanes, an opening.

“Mhm,” you hum against him, dragging your blunt nails across his skin. “Need you so bad, Daddy.”

“‘M right here, baby.” He pretends to not know what you’re talking about, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops, acting like your fingers aren’t dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans. You know he can see right through you, has always seen right through you, his refusal to admit it in this moment only makes your need deepen. 

“Please, Joel,” you whine softly, errant fingertips dipping just below the waistband of his boxers. “I almost started touching myself in the bathroom today.” Your cheeks flush red at the confession, a low groan escapes Joel’s throat. “Every time I felt it, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wish it was your co-“

You let out a small gasp when he snatches your wrist. He pauses, so still you begin to worry you’ve upset him, that you’ve pushed him too far. But then something shifts. 

Fuck it. His mouth is on you in seconds, his tongue immediately gaining access as you melt into him. It’s dizzying, one of his hands grabbing you just below your jaw, the other squeezing your ass cheek roughly. Your knees buckle just as he’s turning you around and practically throwing you onto the bed. You don’t even have time to lift your head off the mattress before he’s yanking your panties over your ass and easing the plug out of your hole. He’s quick with it, your body shivering as the cool metal slides through you, leaving an empty feeling in its wake, but it doesn’t last for long as Joel licks a broad strip through your seam to your asshole. He presses his tongue there, gauging your reaction before he’s licking into you, spreading you with his hands. At first, you squirm away, the feeling of him eating at you like this entirely foreign. But then you're rocking back into him, completely lost in the rush of his mouth against your asshole. Sounds you never knew yourself capable of filling the room as his tongue repeatedly dives into the ring of muscle.

A strangled moan leaves your lips when he pauses, you crane your neck just in time to see a string of saliva drip from his mouth directly between your ass cheeks. He rubs it into you, pushing his thumb through the ring of muscle making you whimper. 

“What d’you want?” His voice is low. His thumb starts pumping in and out of you, fast and unrelenting. 

“Daddy,” you whine, burying your burning-hot cheeks into his pillow. 

“Gonna need better than that,” he tsks, rutting his bulge into your heat. “Or else I’ll have t’ take care a’ this myself. Tie you up and make you watch.”

“Ngh, Daddy,” you moan, face burning impossibly warmer. His thumb slows, giving you a moment of reprieve to gather your thoughts. 

“Want you t’ fuck my ass- wanna feel you.”

“Jesus-“ With his hand coming down to grip your neck, he suddenly pins you to the mattress, muttering a short stay before you feel his weight lift from the bed. You hear the sound of his zipper undoing and catch him fisting himself in the corner of your eye. Your thighs tremble with anticipation as he moves to the side of the bed, planting a knee by your shoulder. Then he’s towering over you, his weeping cock right at your eye line, your cheek still pushed against the mattress, ass in the air. He looks so powerful like this, so broad and so commanding, so when he tells you to open your mouth, you don’t even have to think twice. 

“Gonna get daddy’s dick nice n’ wet, baby.” Saliva pools in your mouth, threatening to drip onto the bed when you stick your tongue out. “Then ‘m gonna wedge my cock in this tight little hole. How’s that sound?” You jolt forward when the pad of his index finger pushes into you.

“Please Daddy,” you whine. He removes his hand, immediately wrapping it around the back of your skull, his fingers tangled in your hair. His other hand grips the base of his length, tapping the red-flushed tip on your tongue a few times before pushing all the way into your mouth in one swift motion, your nose scratching against the coarse hairs at his pelvis. It had taken you months to work up to it, taking him in his entirety. The first time you blew him you’d barely been able to make it halfway down his cock before you were gagging, but not now. Now you take everything he gives you, like he’s molded your throat to the shape of him. 

“This mouth-“ he’s cut off by his own moans, erupting from deep within his chest. “Fuckin’ heaven, baby.”

Tears quickly prick in the corners of your eyes as he continues his assault on your throat. A breathy moan slips from his mouth when you gag around his length after an especially forceful thrust of his hips.

His pace slows as he thumbs away your tears. “Daddy’s been so mean, huh little one? Makin’ you wait all this time.”

You whine around his dick, the vibrations making Joel’s breath catch in the back of his throat. 

“You like when I’m mean though, don’t you? Like when daddy treats you like the little slut you are?” He delivers a harsh smack to your ass just as he pulls away from your mouth, leaving you sputtering and gasping for air. He moves to open the nightstand drawer, quickly retrieving a bottle of lube before rounding the corner of the bed, towering over you from behind. 

“Don’t need it,” you whine, head still foggy from the lack of oxygen.

“Quiet little girl.” He softly swats your ass before you hear the disappointing sound of the bottle opening, followed by the cool sensation of the liquid hitting your exposed hole. He rubs it into you, letting out a satisfied hum when he presses his thumb into your asshole with ease. And then his cock is lining up with you, it’s so fucking big, so much bigger than the plug, a small part of you starts to worry it may not fit, may be too painful. 

Like always, Joel senses your apprehension, running his large palm soothingly down your spine as he leans over you. You feel his warm breath hit your ear. 

“You tell me if it’s too much, yeah baby?” He says it only slightly above a whisper. “M’ only gonna enjoy this if you do too.”

You nod against the sheets, immediately recognizing that the action won’t be enough for Joel. “Yes, Daddy.” You crane your neck to look at him, eyes hooded and dazed. Something flashes in his expression, beyond simple desire, a need suddenly so evident in his eyes that you’d sit up and kiss him until your lips were raw if he wasn’t pushing the tip of his thick cock inside you. 

It’s so much. Even just the first inch is blinding, your vision going blurred and your senses entirely rapt with the feeling. The hurt is overwhelming, the stretch all-consuming, but it’s so good, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

He pushes in another inch and the pain dissipates, in its place a euphoric haze, where all you can feel is him, his weight driving you into the mattress, his hips rocking against your ass. You see stars once he’s fitted inside you, never having felt this full. 

The noises Joel is making are almost pained, his cock throbbing from the tightness of your hole, all the restraint left in him keeping him from setting a brutal pace. No, instead he moves slow, focused intently on not blowing his load every time you squeeze around him, listening to your little moans and whimpers for any signs of unease. 

“It’s a lot baby, I know,” he pants. “But you’re doin’ so good.” His praises have you reeling, furthering your dazed state. “Look so goddamn perfect takin’ all a’ me like this.”

You don’t even know what to say, all you know is that you need more, entirely lost in the feeling. You’re always insatiable, greedy, whenever it comes to Joel, and he knows, revels in the fact that he’s the one that gets to have you like this, makes you feel like this. 

You’re not even sure what you’re saying at this point, what sounds are falling from your mouth, just that Joel takes it as a sign to pick up his pace. It brings you back to earth a bit, your lower belly going taught at the force of his body against your own. 

You’re crying out against the mattress, small fingers twisting in the sheets, tears forming a wet spot beneath your chin. 

“Fuck, baby c’mere.” He suddenly pulls out of you with a heady groan and wastes no time flipping you over. He’s pushing back inside you in seconds, resuming his vigorous pace. 

“Wanna see you when I come in this perfect fuckin’ ass.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his words, your entire body going limp against the mattress as he uses you. When his thumb finds your clit you’re done for. The messy circles he makes send you hurtling right to the edge. With a near-scream, every part of your body goes taut for a moment before your release is shattering through every inch of your body, bursting from your core like shock waves. 

“Fuck, fuck-“ he’s repeating over and over as his own climax hits him, but you can’t even hear him, can only feel him, his body thrusting into you, pushing you impossibly further into the mattress, his hands gripping the hinge of your hips, his warm release shooting deep inside you. It’s the only thing keeping you here, prevailing against the potent haze. 

With one final grunt, he stills, his breathing ragged and sweat dripping from his forehead. You can barely move, still dazed as he pulls out of you slowly, the emptiness in its wake further graying your awareness of reality. 

You lift a shaking hand, attempting to grab at whatever part of him you can reach. “Daddy-“

He leans forward, carefully caging you in his arms. “I’m here baby, you’re okay.”

“‘M okay,” you mumble sweetly. He brings one of his hands to your hair, gently running his fingers along your scalp in a way that makes your thoughts even more fuzzy. But the heaviness of his chest against your own keeps you there, keeps you present. 

“You did so good f’ me, I’m so proud a’ you.” A tired smile spreads across your face at his words. He knows the effect they have on you, which is probably why he says it. But the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell. 

“My pretty baby,” he kisses you softly, and you further melt into his embrace, inhaling his familiar scent, musky and woody with something distinctly Joel. The two of you stay like this for a moment, your arms and legs wrapped around his large form, what little remains of your strength focused on keeping him in place, chest to chest, a comforting pressure. 

“How do you feel, baby? You hurtin’ anywhere?” He says it against your neck, placing soft kisses to the skin there. 

“Mm”, you hum, denying, still detached from your own body, not fully registering the slight tinges of hurt spreading throughout your lower half, completely consumed with the man in front of you, the smell of his sweat still glistening across his chest, the weight of his softened cock still pulsing and twitching against your thigh. He’s everywhere, everything in this moment. 

He pulls away just enough to kiss the tip of your nose. “How ‘bout a bath yeah?” You hum in agreement, let him unwrap himself from your hold, and stand at the edge of the bed before he’s snaking an arm under your knees and back and lifting you. You instinctively curl your face into his neck, still wet with sweat but you don’t mind, nearly your whole body already covered in him. 

He sets you down on the toilet seat before moving to turn the water on, making sure it’s warm enough before plugging the drain. You sway a bit in place, thankful when Joel wraps an arm around your back to steady you. Usually by now the haze will have lifted a bit, no longer in this headspace, yet still your brain is a bit fuzzy, your thoughts and senses dulled. 

You look up at Joel when you feel his thick fingers card through your hair, unsure of when he’d gone to grab one of your hair elastics. As he gathers the strands together, you lean into him, your head resting just below his belly button, on the plush flesh of his tummy, smattered with course hairs trailing down to the base of his cock. You nuzzle into the spot, breathing him in, fully content in this moment. You feel the muscle tighten when you start to press small kisses to it. He firmly grips your now fully formed ponytail when your mouth wanders south, interrupting your descent, and you whine. 

“Settle.” You let out a short huff of breath and bring your gaze to his, resting your chin on his stomach as he loosens his grip on your hair. He shakes his head at you, holding back a smile as he finishes tying your hair back. 

He helps you step into the tub first, guiding you to sit, before he slots himself behind you with a grunt. He pulls you against him, arms wrapped around your tummy and chin resting on your shoulder. You giggle softly when the hairs of his mustache tickle behind your ear. 

He lets you sit against him for a moment before he insists on cleaning you up, lathering his soap between his hands and smoothing it along your soft skin. You start to doze off from the feeling, Joel keeping you upright against his chest. Only after the water begins to cool and your fingertips have turned pruney, Joel helps you step out of the tub, wrapping you in a towel before you start to shiver. He kisses you then, soft and slow like he could stay like this with you forever. And you would, if he wasn’t ushering you back into the bedroom, telling you to get in bed and that he’d be right back. 

He makes you drink a glass of water before taking his place behind you on the bed, his back to the headboard and the small bowl of your skull cradled against his chest. You slowly drift off to the steady beat of his heart. 

I have so many ideas for these two so lmk if we want to see more ;]

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au #tlou au #joel miller fanfiction #part two

[cherry-cola-on-ice]

Slashers with a sleepwalking s/o

AN: totally based off my personal experiences sleepwalking lol asked my friends and family what their favorite sleepwalking episode was.

Jason Voorhees 🏕

Jason is already paranoid AF about you unknowingly wandering into a trap during the day.

But the first time he comes across you in the woods at night? When you should be asleep?

He is not a happy man. Many thoughts run through his mind. Are you trying to leave him? Trying to get yourself hurt? Would you rather die then be with him?

It takes him a good while and a lot of explaining for him to understand what's happening. That your not intentionally doing this. Science shit™️

He sets up a system. Maybe a bell or two. Something loud to let him know where you are. Maybe some trip wires.

Strangest thing he's seen you do: He watched you eat a entire sleeve of saltines while standing in the shower.

Michael Myers 🎃

Michael's seen some shit. So this is nothing. All those years in Smiths Grove have prepared him for this. So you sleepwalk? Cool, his neighbor at Smiths Grove used to eat cockroachs.

That being said, the closer you're relationship grows, the more worried he becomes. What if you fall down the stairs? What if you wander into the road? What if, what if, what if??

He doesn't have the foresight to set up traps, like Jason does.

Uses his fucked up sleep schedule to his advantage and often stands over your sleeping body. Jumpscare.

Will definitely tie a bell on you while you sleep. Totally not a collar what are you saying? Don't make it kinky.

The strangest thing he's seen you do: Put all of the remotes in the refrigerator because they needed batteries.

Thomas Hewitt 🥩

Poor sweet man. You're going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

However, he's probably one of the more better prepared of the lot. His house is set up to keep people in and out. So there isn't much danger you can get into.

Unless he forgets to lock up the basement. Which has happened once. And only once. You were fairly unharmed if not a little traumatized.

Has taken to locking your bedroom door. Also installs like 10 latches. AND puts a bell on the doorknob. And maybe sometimes you.

Look, he's already scared of losing you to somebody else, he doesn't want to have to worry him losing you to you.

Strangest thing he's seen you do: Him, Monty and Hoyt sat and watched you stand in front of the sink for a hour and a half. Just standing there. Menacingly

Brahms Heelshire 🐀

Oh, poor baby is confused. Especially at the start of your situation-ship. You don't know he's there, you just think you're babysitting a doll for a sad old couple. Not their grown ass son who lives in the walls.

The first time Brahms finds you sleepwalking, he's pissed. You trying to leave him, he knows you are. But... did you just snore?? Wait, you're asleep. He feels a little better about the situation.

Until you start walking towards the stairs. Boy's never moved so fast in his life. He knows if he wakes you up it's game over. So he gives you a gentle nudge back to your room.

Now after you find about the rat man in the walls, things are different. Brahms, even in the deepest REM cycle, will never let you go. Man is a koala and you are the tree he's clinging to for dear life. It's almost impossible to escape his arms at night.

Almost makes you sleep in the walls instead of the bedroom so you're safer. Like ain't no way you're getting out of those without him waking up.

Strangest thing he's seen you do: Sat up in bed, complaining about the maracas in your mouth??? He cried.

Billy Lenz 🎄

World's worst caretaker 👑

Especially before yall start dating because, at that point in time, he's still trying to decide if he wants to kill you. He won't lie, he very briefly thought about pushing you down the stairs.

But? After you win him over? Yeah still kinda sucks ass at keeping you from hurting yourself. He'll keep you alive, mind you, just a little worse for wear.

He asked you once if he could tie you down in bed. You didn't like the look in his eyes so you declined. Billy pouted for the next three days.

TBH he might do it anyways. Look he's just trying to keep your silly little self safe, S/O. Get your mind out of the gutter. Haha, jk...unless 😏?

The strangest thing he's seen you do is eat a entire bag of gummy bears while standing outside. He joined you.

Vincent Sinclair 🖌

Another prepared king 👑

His workshop is dangerous. Upstairs is dangerous. The whole town is health code violation. And bby cannot stand the idea of you hurting yourself.

But other then the constant anxiety that you'll some how end up falling off the stairs or falling into the wax or the any other number of things his brain comes up with, he's very level-headed.

Child safety locks. He buys that shit in bulk.

But hey, gives him a excuse to hold you at night. (Vincent, they're literally your s/o)

The strangest thing he's seen you do is stand over Bo's bed, chanting tomato. Bo almost cried.

Bo Sinclair 🔧

Definition of "Look at that idiot...oh wait that's my idiot!"

Honestly, probably the worst. Not like 'let's you just walk around' worst, but more like 'Imma gonna chain you to the bed' worst.

Dude's so scared of losing you, pretty much the best thing that ever happened to him, that his willing to go to drastic matters to keep you safe.

Don't try to explain the science behind it, you'll only give him a migraine. Just let him keep you safe. K, bby?

Bo's gonna lose sleep some nights, he's that scared. No doubt you will wake up to the feeling of someone watching you. Just comfort him, ok?

Strangest thing he's seen you do is sit up in bed and start singing 'Livin La Vida Loca'

Asa Emory 🪲

Number one prepared king™️

I'm not saying he may or may not, kinda sorta perhaps placed cameras around your living situation before you two even began dating. But yeah he did.

So he knows all about the crazy shenanigans you are up to at night.

He reads the books, watching online lectures 👏all👏the👏research. You can bet your sweet ass he knows exactly how to wake you up in case of emergency.

In the same breath, despite how much he does love you, science. Prepare to be studied like a bug under a microscope.

Strangest thing he's seen you do is standing with the refrigerator doors open, telling him how much you love this show.

Norman Bates 🚿

My poor sweet innocent murder bby. He doesn't know what to do.

Yeah, keep you safe, he's got that much down. But at what cost?

The hotel looks like a a daycare center now. Baby proofing everywhere (ask him about getting locked out of the bathroom, it's funny)

Suggested a collar once as a joke, wasn't expecting you to agree. Got flustered. Dropped his cup, maybe got a bone.

Another koala sleeper, so good luck escaping his embrace. Will go as far as following you to the bathroom to make sure you're actually awake.

Strangest thing he's seen you do is sit down in a fake potted plant in the living room and talk about dinosaurs.

#Michael Myers x reader #Jason Voorhees x reader #Thomas Hewitt x reader #Brahms Heelshire x reader #Billy Lenz x reader #Vincent Sinclair x reader #Bo Sinclair x reader #Asa Emory x reader #Slasher x reader #norman bates x reader

[spacenintendogs]

httyd hcs abt the gang's relationship to eret bc we were deprived.

eret has a sense of camaraderie with all of them eventually, but it's super rough to get along with anyone besides astrid & hiccup at first

him & astrid get along the best, obv. they spar, they talk shit, they open up abt serious things, they trade information

eret dealing with how quickly he's changed his life & while astrid doesn't fully understand she rmrs how quickly her mind had been changed & getting used to it.

stormfly still plays fetch with eret (with a stick or... with him LMAO but it helps him get used to falling from large heights & trusting he'll be caught by a dragon, either her or skullcrusher)

hiccup immediately trusts eret as much as he trusts anyone he's known for years & eret doesn't know if he deserves it but he strives to make it so he does

eret has HIGH respect for hiccup & understands what he's going through to an extent as the son of a chief (tho hiccup is chief now). hiccup is one of the only ones who know eret was son of a chief.

yea i'm going off of what was said abt fire tides with eret being the son of a chief

eret figures out exactly where toothless likes to be pet & always has to give him a scratch under the chin to say hello

fishlegs enthusiasm for dragons & infodumping is a lot for eret at first, but very quickly fishlegs unabashedly is sweet, gentle, shy, patient, & still has the ability to bite back at ppl (mostly snotlout & the twins) & eret is like okay word

fishlegs helps eret understand skullcrusher more, as he's more than eager to step into the role of teacher (this makes hiccup happy)

fishlegs tells eret abt his family's regatta history & eret is actually invested!! he's interested!!! in turn, eret shows fishlegs his ship!!

eret: (sees meatlug) oh. (gives her a snack) (gives her a snack) (gives her a snack) (gives her a

we know snotlout sees eret as a rival but eret doesn't Care™️ but it'd be funnier i think if eret doesn't Care™️ but also enjoys mildly taking the piss out of snotlout for fun

it's so easy to work snotlout up & after eret's had his fun for a few months he casually brings it up to snotlout & snotlout wants to crawl into a hole & die

they do become good friends & it's weird for ppl outside of the gang bc eret is so dry towards snotlout vs snotlout still getting in eret's face (affectionate)

hookfang just likes to push himself into eret's personal space & cuddle(?) so eret just allowe it LMAO

it's ruffnut's bluntness that has eret finally relax around her.

she defends him in a rather mundane event of eret getting heckled (again) by berkians who don't trust him (this is like, month 5 of him living on berk) by looking at each viking & roasting them calmly from the ground up with information they didn't know she knew

eret tells her thanks & she just... smiles at him. so he gives her a kiss on the cheek & it's a rare moment of ruff getting slightly flushed

tuffnut is actually very easy to get along with. he always checks on eret & makes sure he's doing alright (in his tuffnut way)

tuffnut is so blasé abt things while also being one of the most hyper ppl eret has ever met & it's so intriguing to eret how someone can be a walking contradiction but make it make sense so easily

tuffnut gives eret unprompted pep talks & eret tries to respond in kind instead of fully brushing tuff off & tuff is like :D

barf & belch are as chaotic as their riders & maybe... maybe... eret will enable them on occassion (yes he will. what? it's funny).

eret rlly learns abt everyone & learns to like them for them as they like him for him :)

also they all saw him without a shirt ONE TIME (1) & haven't shut up abt it since

#httyd #httyd headcanons #eret son of eret #do i tag everyone mentioned again? #let's do it #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #toothless #stormfly #fishlegs ingerman #meatlug #snotlout jorgenson #hookfang #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston #barf and belch #long post #rose rambles

[moonyandrice]

TWST sibling dynamic absolutely fuck me up and here’s why

so like, I’m already a little ass bitch when it comes to family dynamics and whatnot, but TWST really scratches and itch that isn’t really scratched a lot. Mainly the sibling angst.

Idia and Ortho obviously being the siblings of all time is cutesy and shit until you realize how fucked up the nature of their relationship is. Like Idia had to create a literal simulacra to cope with the loss of Ortho yet has such an awful habit of pushing him away. This could be due to Idia’s constant self-deprecation and him “not being worthy of love” but also because yk- being comforted by the object that looks like your brother could very well be taken in cold and cruel comfort.

But the dynamic that’s really been fucking me up recently? Malleus and Silver. ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN. Imo Malleus captures a side of older siblings that aren’t seen a lot. That being, utter isolation. They’re pseudo sibling dynamic works so perfectly in the fact that Malleus loves Silver but in his loneliness, he forgets himself.

That excitement upon having a younger sibling? That love? That visceral, bright, and starry-eyed love you first get? And then Malleus’ encompassing loneliness and desperation? He tears everything they’ve built down to the ground in a fruitless and desperate search for that love. In turn he pushes Silver away, the only person who has the actual balls to tear him away from this fantasy. Malleus is so desperate for love that he forgets who taught him what it was.

Edit: Not to mention the pain on Silver’s side being a representation of Sibling Pain™️ not seen too often. The idea and sight of watching this person that you’ve grown up with, admired, and LOVED, be in such a state of anguish and act nothing like the person you knew? Ow. Even worse when he finds he’s been completely blinded to the reality of this.

#I know I already made a TWST ramble but shhhhhhh #On a completely unrelated note I may or may not change my theme soooo #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #disney twst #twst silver #silver vanrouge #idia shroud #ortho shroud #diasomnia chapter #twst chapter 7

[blairsanne]

Blankets

For the Deano Bingo 2022 event!

Prompts: Fili + Blankets + The Belly™️

The Hobbit - Fili & Reader 2756 words

Summary: You accompany Fili on a trip to a nearby town of Men, but the inclement weather forces you to spend the night together at an inn. (Only one bed trope.)

CW: Kissing. No smut.

The rain that night was relentless.

It bit at your skin and had seeped through every layer of clothing until you felt the cold in your very bones.

Fili led you down the cobble road to an inn, the sight of his lantern keeping you from falling behind as you felt your limbs protest all movement.

You had traveled together from Erebor to deliver a custom project he had designed, but the inclement weather had delayed you significantly, and you’d have to spend the night in the strange town and meet his client in the morning.

You had spent the last several hours of wet travel cursing your luck. This was likely to be the last excursion you’d get to take with your friend, if the rumors were true about Thorin pushing Fili to wed a certain noble dam in Erebor. Surely a wedded dwarf would not take some other dam on journeys such as this, even if you had been friends for years. It would seem disloyal, and there would be rumors about what the two of you were to each other.

Not that there weren’t already. And not that you didn’t secretly wish them to be true.

You’d missed him terribly and worried over his safety while he was on the quest, and when you’d received a letter from him asking you to come to Erebor, you’d not hesitated. From the moment you saw him again then, you’d felt a change in your heart. He’d always been kind and handsome, but now it made you want something more from him.

Now when you looked up into his impossibly blue eyes, studied his calloused hands, and watched his lips make his mustache braids dance, it wasn’t enough; you wanted them on you.

But you were just friends.

Fili deserved to keep your friendship, not to have yet another dam fawning over him now that he was ‘someone important’. He complained often about the dams under the mountain, and your worst fear was becoming one of those admirers he despised. That he might think you only had an interest in him that way because of his position and not the close relationship you’d had even before his quest.

He pushed open the door of the inn, and you followed him into the warm interior.

It was a cozy place, despite how spacious the pub area on the ground floor was. The air was warm with the smells of various meals and baked goods, as well as ale that must have been served abundantly earlier in the night. The walls and ceiling were decorated with large wooden beams with all manner of carvings in them, and you got the sense that someone had put a lot of care into decorating the place despite it being in a town of mostly Men; the sort of craftsmanship you’d expect from a dwarf or an elf, maybe.

An old man sat hunched over a desk near a staircase to the upper floor. “Fine weather we’re having, eh?” he commiserated.

Fili nodded and approached the desk, both of you leaving puddles on the floor in your wake.

“Two rooms for the night, please.”

The old man behind the counter winced and clucked his tongue. “We’ve only the one left, I’m afraid.”

You heard exhaustion in Fili’s sigh.

“Oh, but it’s our best one,” the man croaked on, trying not to lose the business. “Nice big bed and the hearth will warm ya.”

“How much?”

The innkeeper named a price and Fili placed twice that amount on the counter without hesitation. “If you have towels and extra bedding to spare we’d sorely appreciate it.”

“Oh, yes, that can certainly be arranged, master dwarf.”

---

Soon you were both standing in what, under normal circumstances, you supposed was a very fine room for a couple in an inn at the edge of town.

Despite there being only one bed, it was large enough that it would fit you both, and the innkeeper had provided several towels and some spare sheets and blankets that sat folded atop it.

Fili grabbed a towel and one of the smaller blankets, then stepped over to the table and chairs to pull them closer to the fire. He draped his cloak over the back of one of the chairs and kicked off his boots.

“Take off your wet clothes, we’ll dry them by the fire.”

“Er- right.”

He tilted his head at you, flashing a charming grin that dimpled his cheek. “I’ll turn away. Leave your things in a pile, dry off, and get under the blankets.” Then he turned his back to you to start undressing himself.

Though you did as you were told, you couldn’t help but steal a glance his way as you peeled out of the layers of wet fabric that stuck to your skin. You were struck by the way his back muscles rippled with his movements, his strong arms wasting no time freeing him from his own outfit. You got a flash of his bare behind before he wrapped the blanket around his waist. 

You quickly toweled off, then hopped under the covers to hide your own body - as much from his perceptive eyes as the chill in the air.

You watched him stoke the fire, the orange flames bathing his skin in a golden glow that you thought suited him quite well. The blanket he’d wrapped around his lower body sat just below his slight belly, the only soft spot on his impossibly strong body. You studied the curls of hair that decorated it, and wanted to run your fingers through them, over his skin, and then under the blanket to loose it to the floor.

He added a few more logs before humming in thought. He was sure he’d have to get up sometime in the night to tend to it, but he probably wouldn’t sleep all that soundly anyway in a strange place.

“Have you finished?” he asked, despite assuming you were. It had certainly been long enough, and he’d heard the rustling of the bedding.

“Mmhmm.”

He turned your way, a quiet laugh dimpling his cheeks as he saw you sitting with the blankets pulled up all the way to your neck. Your damp hair was sticking to the side of your face, and he wondered idly if he’d ever seen it in such a state.

He was all ease and confidence as he stepped over to the pile of your garments. “We were lucky they had a room. I was becoming more water than dwarf.”

You forced an appreciative laugh at his joke as he set your things out on the furniture to dry.

“Your hair’s still wet,” he remarked lightly. “You should dry it some more if you can.” “Right.” You took one of the extra towels and did as he suggested, trying not to be obvious as you watched him work.

Fili wrung your long cloak out, leaving a mess on the floor before draping it across one side of the table. “Your cloak barely spared you from the rain. We should get you one of the treated ones like mine for the future.”

You let out a small laugh as you tossed the now-damp towel to the floor, your hair much drier than it had been. “I don’t usually have occasion to need such a thing.”

“Mm, still. For when I drag you out on errands.” He flashed you a slightly apologetic smile as he sauntered over to the bed. “Assuming you’ll come with me again after this mess.”

“No. Seeing as I know you control the weather, I think I shant forgive you.”

His light-hearted laugh made your chest feel tight, and you looked away as he carefully climbed into the bed, leaving as much space as he could between you.

You wanted to join him on that side of the mattress, to use his broad chest as your pillow and drape yourself over his perfect body. You wanted to know what his hands would feel like on your skin. Was he the sort to be rough and possessive in bed, the power of a smith hammering a blade into form? Or patient and meticulous, the dwarf with masterful hands that drew out careful details in his pieces?

You scolded yourself as you curled onto your side, your back to him. It wasn’t fair to him that you thought such scandalous things while he believed you were just a loyal friend.

Fili felt you trembling and turned to face you. “Are you alright?”

“Mm,” you lied. “Just cold.” “Would you like to sit by the fire?” “No, that’s alright. You just got everything set to dry over there.” “I could see if they have any hot meals?” “Not hungry.” “Are you sure? I don’t want you falling ill.”

The genuine concern in his voice made your chest ache even more, the knowledge that he was worried over you both touching and guilt-inducing. “I’ll be fine.” You tensed more and curled into yourself, feeling quite pitiful.

He frowned, knowing you too well to not hear the distress you were trying to hide in your voice. You felt him shifting under the covers, making them move over your skin uncomfortably, and then a sudden warmth met your back.

You hissed an inhale in surprise as you heard Fili mutter something.

“This is bad. You’re like ice.”

You felt his other hand meet your back, warm palms smoothing over your skin in an attempt to warm you up. Then he moved closer, and you were enveloped by his body. 

He was so much warmer than you, it was like being placed in a bath. He kept his arm over the covers, but the heat seeped from his torso as he pressed it against your back, skin on skin down to where his stomach met the pooled blanket still wrapped around his lower body. Its soft fabric pressed against your bottom and you imagined what you knew it was hiding, wondering for a moment if you’d feel his interest through it -- if he’d had any in you.

You screwed your eyes shut. It wasn’t right that your friend was trying to help you, and all you could think about was jumping his bones. He deserved better.

“Fili?” You turned to face him, pushing your cold hands against his furry chest to keep distance between you in the bed.

“Er-” He cleared his throat, unsure how to take the rejection of his embrace. Perhaps it had been an overstep.

Still, he focused on the main issue at hand, his voice abnormally stern as he drew his other arm under the covers to take both of yours in his. “You need to warm up.”

You were starting to, your heart beating hard in your chest after having his skin on your naked body - even if it was purely practical and you were both hidden out of sight beneath blankets.

“Th-This will be the last time I accompany you,” you began, unsure exactly how to tell him what was weighing on your heart.

“What?” His hand flew to your forehead to feel for fever, concerned you were falling ill faster than he’d anticipated. Did you think you were going to die? “Don’t speak that way. Shall I fetch a healer?”

“No-” You batted his hand away. “No, it’s just- We shouldn’t be traveling alone like this. If someone were to hear… Well, a dwarrow and a dam bare in a bed together, that’s sure to start rumors, and- What would people think?”

He slowly nodded, expression growing dark.

“And one should, er, be respectful of the one they’re set to marry, so… So you see why we shouldn’t do this sort of thing, don’t you?”

Fili licked his lips, taking your concerns much more seriously than you’d expected.

You felt your heart in your throat, unsure if you were going to weep or be sick. Part of you had sort of hoped he’d argue; that of course it was no problem for him to continue to spend time alone with you. That you were important to him, regardless of what others might think… even a wife.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even. “Then… You are promised to someone?”

You blinked in surprise, then let out a sudden laugh that made your teeth chatter. “Me? No, of course not.” You averted your gaze, expression and voice softening. “But… Lady Thoda, she shouldn’t have to question-”

“Lady Thoda?” Fili’s voice cracked with confusion and slight offense. “What does she have to do with it?”

“Erm… All the mountain says it’s only a matter of time before you announce an engagement to her.”

His nostrils flared. “‘All the mountain’ spends much time speaking on matters they know nothing of.”

You shrank in on yourself again, not used to Fili speaking in such a harsh tone. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He sighed, feeling at a loss.

“Nevermind such trivial things. The gossip in Erebor is puerile. What matters at this moment is that you don’t catch ill.” He rubbed one of his coarse palms up your arm, hoping the friction would help.

“I am a dam, you know,” you muttered, cheeks flush with heat.

At this, Fili’s anger seemed to fade, an amused look in his pale blues as he raised a brow at you. “Yes, I’m aware. What’s gotten into you tonight? You’re acting strange.”

You chewed your lip, unable to meet his gaze. “We’ve been friends for years, but… when you put your hands on me like this, it’s hard to think of you that way.”

You expected him to pull away. To apologize, or else to be alarmed by your admission. Instead, he moved beneath the sheets, still holding your hand with one of his as the other reached around your back to press your bodies against each other.

“Is that all it took? My skin on yours?” His voice was a mixture of disbelief and amusement, and you thought he might laugh at you.

You tensed in his hold despite having imagined it many times. “Are you mocking me?”

“Not at all. I’ve been trying for months, but it seemed to me you had no interest in being more than a friend.” “I… What?” “Why do you think I asked you to come to Erebor?”

“I don’t know, I- I just thought you’d missed me.” “I did.”

He pulled back to look you in the eye. “I hated being apart.”

“Me too,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, but when you kissed back, he wanted more. Soon his tongue was meeting yours, and you felt your body thawing even more, your bodies pressed together and hands carefully moving over each other’s skin.

When he finally broke the kiss, both of you catching your breath and sharing a look of surprise and relief, you placed your hand on his chest.

“But what of Lady Thoda?” Fili shrugged, shaking his head. “What of her?”

“Well you- Or, rather, they say that you’ve been meeting with her in private, trying to keep it a secret, but you know how the rumors spread.”

“I have been meeting with her in private, yes.” “Mm.” “To discuss a project she commissioned from me. A sword to be given as a courting gift to the dwarf she intends to wed.” “Oh.” “Rumors are almost always wrong by half. You should have asked me directly.”

You shook your head, averting your gaze. “I just- couldn’t.”

If he’d told you he was courting her, you had been sure you would have somehow given away your true feelings, and lost his friendship. So you’d avoided having anything completely confirmed as long as possible.

He let out a soft hum. “But- From now on, if you hear of something like that… Will you ask me yourself?” “Mm, I suppose.” “I would like to think if we’re going to court, you’ll trust me over the rumors.” “You really- Are you sure, Fili? You want to court me?”

He cupped your face with one hand. “I have never been more certain of anything.”

He kissed you again, moving as he did so to hover over you in the bed, his slightly damp locks falling beside his face and onto your own.

When he broke the kiss, he lingered, nose against yours, to look into your eyes with a lusty look.

“Now, can I warm you up properly?”

---

A/N: I am contemplating a smutty part two. Any suggestions from the kink card? ***EDITED TO ADD: Sorry to everyone who read this while the formatting was all messed up! It looked fine when I pasted it into the draft, but I guess it changed the font color and removed a LOT of line breaks. 🙈🙈🙈 Please let me know if I missed anything that should have been fixed by now.***

Tags: Everything - @the-poldarkian @i-did-not-mean-to @the-butterfly-blues LOTR/Hobbit - @fizzyxcustard Deano - @laurfilijames @feeweeeee @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @missihart23

As always, if you'd like to be added or removed from any tag lists just let me know any time! ♥

#deanobingo2022 #fili #fili fic #fili x reader

[modernghostfare]

Could you maybe give us some More Mace headcanons? About him, his relationships, what he likes doing,...etc

yes 🥺 this is perfect bc ive been messing with his playlist lately.

ill start with his music taste which ive already talked a lot about (black metal, various death metal, noise, anything that pushes the boundaries of what constitutes music, and esp any of this thats a rare find. a certified Snob™️) but lately I've really been thinking about the music hed have grown up with and i think hed have a real soft spot for 80s-90s hiphop and r&b. disco, too.

and to add i think hed really dislike songs that are just purely brags about someones monetary worth (but not songs that are about needing money or being protective of what someone Has earned, theres a difference) bc he hates money and rich people. also songs that are really misogynistic. he'll still listen if he enjoys the beat but he will be shaking his head in disapproval (exaggerated. he will not actually shake his head.)

and now I've mentioned him growing up, I've said in the past him going no contact w his family, not bc they were abusive but bc stress amplifies his selfish traits and he just didn't want to make an effort for his family. anyway. nowadays he will speak with family but its still very stunted bc he feels disconnected with his upbringing and life in America. he knows his family doesnt understand this either bc he's pretty extreme in his views.

still for the people around him where hes in his element (probably leading a small group in one of the various pmcs he's joined) he's very easy to get along with. he's excellent at keeping a friendship very surface level for the means of being a good coworker/superior. pretty energetic in his tone at times too im sure hes fun to joke along with.

that said, he really enjoys his boundaries AND. his personal space. he'd never get into anyone's personal bubble without good reason and he would like this courtesy to be extended to him as well. he's an atheist but he does still believe in the golden rule.

i can perfectly picture his phone in the most heavy duty case with the screen protector cracked to fucking hell bc he's careless with it and will toss it across his room to his bed and multiple times overestimated how much power hed need. but it's okay it's like a $50 phone. as long as it charges and takes calls and texts he doesn't care.

#call of duty #mace #cod mace #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty headcanons #mwmp #asks #anon #doing this on mobile so if the link is fucked up lmk 🙏

[sysmedsaresexist]

A note about the shame "criteria"

I think a lot of people get a little confused about what kind of shame is in question

It's not what you think

Understanding Shame - And so the purpose of shame is actually survival: shame teaches us to avoid behaviours that would see us excluded from the group. And shame puts the brake on behaviours that provoke more attack.

Trauma survivors have (typically) spent their entire lives being disregarded, ignored, disbelieved. It's very normal for survivors to feel out of place, misunderstood, and very, very alone.

They often do their best to minimize their symptoms and act like things are better than they are, typically refusing to seek or accept help, they often blame themselves for the things that happened to them (as children, no less), they're often embarrassed admitting that those things happened, and talking about specifics can be so upsetting and you can't help but hate yourself for not being stronger.

Shame comes in so many flavours... Attack self is a huge one. Withdrawal. Avoidance.

Maybe you were frequently called out in front of the class for severe dissociation daydreaming-- now you're afraid of having any kind of attention on you, and you really wish your partner would stop looking at you like that, why are they looking at you, something hurts but you don't know what

Maybe because of how often you were called out, you tried to ask for help but were told that you're overreacting, things aren't that bad, you should be more grateful, and now you're embarrassed and really don't want to tell your new therapist how much you're actually struggling, because she might think you're lying, and you probably are just making a big deal out of nothing

Maybe you struggle to pay attention to your best friend venting to you because Dissociation™️, and that's clearly your fault, you're the problem in the friendship-- but then again, haven't you always been the problem?

Maybe you struggle with relationships-- sex is painful after what happened, and you haven't found a partner patient enough to figure it out-- you're giving up hope that anyone could love you

Maybe one of your alters absolutely lost it on a very good friend, and now you have to deal with the consequences without telling them too much about what's really going on, but at this point they're suspicious and they're telling all your other friends you're crazy. Maybe you are?

Maybe you opened up to someone you thought you could trust, but the look in their eyes has you backpedaling, wishing you had never opened your mouth-- you desperately hope nothing will change between you two, and you know better now

Maybe you're ashamed that you're a system because the media says that's fucked up, what happened to you was fucked up, and all your individual budding symptoms of DID were scrutinized and corrected and disciplined and pushed aside that by the time you realized what was happening, you already knew better than to talk about it

Or maybe you just feel ashamed because you love your system, the terrible gift left behind after your experiences

If you can relate to this, these are all forms of distress, dysfunction, and shame, and they are totally normal and understandable. They count. It doesn't need to be hating your system. It doesn't need to embarrassment.

And shame doesn't need to define you.

Mandatory reading/watching

Starting with positivity:

What if shame is nothing to be ashamed of … but instead is the hero in our story?

The most accurate depiction of shame I've ever read

What do you need? - Shame in therapy

The Differences in Dissociation Triggered by Shame and Terror – and How to Work with Each - A clinician's take on shame

#syscourse #dissociative identity disorder #did #OSDD #actuallydissociative #actuallydid #actuallyosdd #actuallytraumagenic #shame

[eelfuneral]

Things That The Jedi Could Have Done For The Clones

If you’ve been following me for long enough, then you will know that I have some, shall we say, concerns about how people discuss the relationship between the Jedi and the Clones and the thorny ethical issues that it entails. A lot of folks figure that because the Jedi are meant to be the “good guys” and because they are “nice” to the Clones, they are basically absolved of any responsibility or complacency in the Clones’ enslavement. I disagree. Yes, the Jedi couldn’t free every Clone overnight in the middle of a war and no, they weren’t the ones who decided to create and enslaved them, but I still feel like there are actions that they could have taken to establish that they wanted to help the Clones beyond a kind word or two. So in no particular order, here is a list of things that the Jedi could have done.

On an institutional level, they could have:

1. Advocated for Clone citizenship. The Jedi were more enmeshed with the Senate than they would ever admitted, and they could have discussed drafting a bill with senators to legally give the Clones citizenship.

2. Advocated for Clones to be paid a living wage. See number one.

3. Set up vocational and life-skills courses for Clones to help them prepare for life after the war.

4. Punished and investigated Jedi like Pong Krell who dehumanized and/or abused clones. The fact that an unusually high number of Clones were dying wherever Krell went and the Jedi didn’t even think to look at why that was kind of blows my mind and makes me think that they were being negligent.

5. Given Clones like Slick (who would have been rare due to the Kaminoan’s indoctrination of the Clones before the Jedi even came into the picture) the option of doing things other than being soldiers.

6. Pushed the Kaminoans and Trainers to cease any and all abuse and dehumanization of Clones in Tipoca City. The “you can’t outright kill disabled clones, but you can give them Janitorial Duty of Shame™️” and the “when trainers abuse Clones, we’ll just look the other way” approaches that they adopted in canon were not ideal.

As Individuals, they could have:

1. Personally advocated for Clones who came to them with complaints of abuse and sentient rights violations.

2. Refused to participate in the enslavement of the Clones, left the Order, and became an advocates for their rights outside of the confines of the Jedi Code.

3. Secretly helped Clones who expressed that they did not want to be part of the GAR to escape and find happiness, no questions asked.

4. Kept their Clone colleagues in the loop about advocacy work being done on their behalf.

5. Allowed Clones serving under them who expressed interest in doing so to make suggestions about and/or participate in said advocacy work.

6. Really taken a moment to sit down and talk to Clones about how they were living and what they wanted.

#Jedi critical #this is the crux of why I dislike the PT-era Jedi Order #they could have done SO MUCH MORE

[bookishfeylin]

I joined this fandom loving Feyre, loving Feysand, loving the IC, just overall loving everything about the books. As such, I looked at the super pro-Feysand and such content. This was a mistake, as the longer I spend on diehard stan content, the more I want to punch walls. There's nothing wrong with loving Feyre, or even thinking Feysand is a cute couple you ship, but there are people who just deny them of ever having done wrong (not even to each other, just in general), or that Sarah didn't make some major oversights. The big thing I think of is Feyre as a high lady. I actually liked the whole "high lady" thing when I first read the series, but now I'm realizing how stupid it is. Feyre is wonderful, but she is still a 20 year old who has no formal training in accounting, in leadership, in politics, or any of the necessary requirements. You can't run for president until at least 35 for a reason. She can be as sweet as she wants, and host all the free painting classes, and be as motherly as possible, but when push comes to shove that won't lead a country. These people out here claiming "ah yes, Rhysand is pretty much retired at this point Feyre leads the whole nation and she's just the perfect High Lady" yadda yadda yadda, no. Also, I've discovered some people stan her destruction of the Spring Court? I'm not even pro Tamlin and I can accept that is absolutely not cool. Was it largely his own fault? Sure! But there was a necessary catalyst, and that's what they refuse to accept.

Anyway I'm just babbling at this point, but very few people in this fandom actually accept that Feyre is capable of wrongdoing (and that's okay! perfect characters are boring to read! you can love characters despite them being flawed!) AND can bear to tolerate a difference of opinion. Curate your fandom experience how you want it's your life, but don't be shocked when someone comes in with a valid point.

You've probably answered this 8000 times before, but what's your opinion on the whole "High Lady" thing?

Hi anon! This entire ask was such a pleasure to receive, and your ranting is perfectly fine (goodness knows I rant a LOT on a lot of my analysis posts in particular—). I actually have feelings™️ about the fall of Spring (though that is a post for another time and it’s something I’ve talked about before but I’ll keep from discussing it here so this post won’t be too long lol), but the High Lady thing is also something I have strong opinions on as well.

While I do understand Feyre's age and political inexperience being something that people get hung up on, I haven’t talked about it as much mainly because it’s not as big of a stickler for me. The main issue, for me, with the title of High Lady is that it is an empty title. No amount of Rhysand saying “look you have droplets of power from other people clearly you’re a ruler” changes that Feyre was not actually hand picked by magic to rule as defined by the (admittedly barebones) magic system we get. I talk about it more in this post, but ACOTAR 1 spells out that Hugh Lords are chosen by magic and as a result have a unique connection to their land and people. (PLEASE go read that post for the exact quotes I use and my discussion of said quotes!) Feyre lacks this connection, and is therefore not a real High Lady in any sense. It is merely an empty title, given to her to placate her and make her (and by extension her fans) feel like she has more power in her unbalanced relationship than she does, which is why she and many Feysand stans were blindsided by Rhysand's actions in ACOSF.

I say this, not maliciously, because anyone who’s read my content for any long period of time knows I’m actually very fond of book 1 Feyre in particular, but to point out that it’s merely another tactic by Rhysand to manipulate her. Feyre is left completely vulnerable and completely at her husband's mercy due to her incorrect belief that she has more power in their dynamic than she actually does, a dynamic that is showcased and exploited to the worst degree in ACOSF, and it’s largely possible because Feyre is not a legitimate High Lady in the full sense of the title who is owed her subjects loyalty and devotion the same way her husband is. It’s very tragic, actually, and it’s wild to me that the whole fandom fell for it.

#Someone save Feyre from her abusive husband PLEASE #Anyway thanks for the ask! And anon please go read that older post I linked to see exactly what I’m talking about #Because high lords are very unique in their magic and Feyre uh. Lacks that unique magic #ACOTAR analysis #Anti rhysand #rhysand's abuse #Anti acomaf #Sjm critical #Ask #anon

[retrodreamgirl]

the games that play us | steve harrington x fem!reader

part 1 | part 2

summary: you're a kindergarten teacher at Hawkins Elementary and coincidentally steve harrington's little girl is a student in your class. there's a storm brewing, you meet wren's dad a second time, and wren and steve are having a hard day. we've got pumpkins and Steve Sheet™️ and french fries and tomatoes. plus! uncle eddie has a new friend and wren has some questions [wc: 10k]

warnings: fem!reader, teacher!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, single parent!steve, mentions of teen parent!steve, steve being the biggest girl dad, uncle eddie (he's so stinkin cute!), mentions of shitty parents (steve's), probably not proofed very well. lmk if i missed anything!

⤜♡→

“Ms. Y/l/n, guess what!” Wren lifts to her toes, hands fastened against the opening of her denim jacket. She’s been especially well behaved today, not that she ever puts a single toe beyond the line of acceptable, but you’ve been waiting for her bright smile to find you with an explanation since she skipped in this morning. Now that she has, you free your hands of chalky erasers and lean a tad so your hands brush the knees of your skirt and your eyes are level.

“What’s up, Wren?” 

“My daddy’s coming to pick me up today!” 

“Oh he is!? Is that what’s got you so excited?” She nods, her endless pigtails swaying in kind. You wonder if her dad is the one who fashioned them with the bright pink ribbons and the butterfly clips flattening her flyaways on either side. “Do you guys have fun plans after school today?” 

After your formal introduction to Eddie, you brought him up in passing to one of the other teachers, Ms. Winters. She mentioned seeing the girl with him after school most days, along with an off comment about his commitment being a nice surprise. It was an odd take to you, the way Wren describes the affection she holds for her father and vice versa making it near impossible to believe he would be anything short of committed. 

“Mmm, no. Today we have to go straight home so I can do my homework and clean my room.” 

“A messy room huh?”

“I always keep it so clean, I promise!” She says it like the entirety of your relationship is dependent on the amount of clutter covering her bedroom floor. She wrings her hands, thinking a moment before explaining exactly why her room is messy, making sure you don’t think it’s entirely her fault. “I just made a bit of a mess picking my outfit last night and daddy was too tired to help me hang my clothes back so he said he’ll help me do it today.” 

“Alright, well why don’t you finish cleaning up your toys so you’re all ready when your daddy gets here.” 

She hops off, hands delicately swaying like the wind is carrying them alongside her, and you continue with the process of your own wind down. 

Despite Wren’s good behavior the rest of the class did not act accordingly. 

You’re positive it’s something in the water, a total of five students passing through timeout at various periods of the day. You’re not positive you’ll make it beyond the barrier of the school before you have to pull over and rest your head atop the steering wheel for a well deserved sob from pure exhaustion. 

Over the next thirty minutes, you send students off with bus monitors and exchange pleasantries with those whose parents are always lingering in the hall, waiting for the slow crawl of their little one collecting their bags from their cubbies and saying last goodbyes to friends for the day. Each student’s pass to the door is a weight from your chest, not to say you don’t love their bright smiles and lively personalities, but you’re still growing used to the charge of a class of twenty children barely pushing six years old.

All the while, Wren sits at her desk, the one near the window overlooking the parking lot. You don’t miss the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way her shoulders seem to slowly dip and her head eventually lay against her arms along the table. 

You’re fidgeting at your own desk, slowly sifting through the portraits you assigned for the day and dotting them all with an assortment of smiley face stickers. You hate to see the way her pupils widen a fraction every so often when a shadow shapes along the hall, then the way they deflate when she realizes it’s not her dad but another teacher leaving for the afternoon. The line is drawn completely when you see the way her lip wobbles at forty minutes past three.

“Hey, Wren, do you wanna have a snack with me?” Her eyes are glistening when she looks over at you, the sleeve of her jacket wiping at the wetness beginning to accumulate against her cheeks. “I have some yummy graham crackers with yogurt and I think I have an apple juice with your name on it!”

“Okay.” She says sighing, the breath catching in her throat with the words. You round your desk, the sharp clicks of your heels seeming too loud in the empty classroom. You’ve never noticed the loneliness of the whole thing, not until the happiest kid you know is crawling from her chair with an unusual cloud over her head. You offer your hand, and she rubs hers against her sleeve before accepting it.

“We just gotta make a quick trip to the teacher’s lounge so we’ll be back in time for your daddy.” 

“He’s late.” You slow your pace when Wren trails behind, her feet dragging against the tile when you step past the threshold of the door. Her neck is craning toward the entrance, posters painting happy faces seeming to morph into a mocking scene when the glass pane is empty of anything but the late afternoon sun blazing against bare asphalt. 

“I’m sure he’s trying to get here as fast as he can.” 

You hate to see it, the incorrigible way her lips flatten at the edges. Like she doesn’t think he’s showing up at all. It begs the question of routine or a deep seeded fear. 

You lead her to the lounge, her tiny feet pattering quickly behind you despite your decrease in tempo. It’s a pathetic little room really, with a round table and a fridge. Wren lingers by the door, eyes wide like it’s the holy grail. You pull your tub of yogurt and a juice box from the corner of the fridge and turn back to her with a kind smile. “Jackpot!” 

“Jackpot! Can I hold something, please?” 

“You take the juicebox, it’s so heavy I might fall over!” You sway on your feet, emphasis enough to have Wren giggling and her hands gently prying the small thing from you. “Thank you, sweetheart. Ready to head back?” 

She looks at you a moment, poking at her chin. “What about the crackers?” 

“Follow me.”

Her spirits have lifted a small amount by the time you’re back to the classroom, still empty save for her bright backpack slung over the back of her chair. You walk to your desk, plopping the tub of yogurt down and waving her over. She tentatively approaches you, this side of the wooden surface not often breached by anyone other than yourself. 

You crouch to the lowermost drawer, sliding it open to reveal an assortment of goodies, some that you use sparingly when the class is being in especially good spirits and some for yourself to snack on throughout the day.

“Whoa.” Wren peeks into the stash then back to you, “That’s a lot of stuff.” 

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone. It’s our little secret, okay?” You pass her the graham crackers and notice the chipping purple polish on her nails. “Does your daddy paint your nails?”

“No, my Aunt Max does it. But sometimes I pick at them and I haven’t been able to see her um…because of school.” Wren explains, scraping her nail along the edge of her thumb where a dusting of purple has scattered against it. “Next time I wanna do it like pumpkins for Halloween!”

“Oh I think that would be very cool! Let’s sit at your table and we can eat a little.” She nods and hobbles back to her chair with her juice box clutched in her fist. “Do you like your graham crackers with yogurt? It’s my favorite.” 

“I’ve never had it before. My after school snack is usually half a peanut butter and jelly with some grapes and five m&ms. I get five so I can put them in the bread and make a face, but they always fall out so I just get chocolate before dinner.” You have a feeling her plan is not as sneaky as she thinks, but the mischievous glint in her eye fills you with a warmth too wholesome to burst her bubble.

You free a cracker from the brown sleeve and dip it into the tub of yogurt to carefully hand over to Wren who watches the entire process arched over the desk with rapt attention. “Tell me what you think.” 

She takes a large bite, a corner of the cracker breaking off and falling to the desk leaving a glob of yogurt clinging to her cheek. She scrunches her nose and swallows, her hand grabbing at the piece that now rests atop the table. 

“May I please have a napkin?” 

“Yeah,” You chuckle, quick to hop up and grab the spare roll from your desk. 

“It’s really good!” She says through another mouthful, allowing you to dab at the corner of her cheek. She whines a bit when you spend too long rubbing at the skin but quickly catches herself and smiles sheepish. You continue like this for a while, Wren too occupied cautiously dipping each cracker and sliding it past her lips. 

Your eyes travel the expanse of the window, trying to spot any unfamiliar vehicles pulling in. There’s nothing but the sky darkening to an angry gray color, clouds settling for an evening storm. You think you should attempt to call her house, but you’re sure there won’t be an answer.

You must’ve missed something she said, because next thing Wren’s arm is tugging at the edge of your sleeve and her eyes are wide and fearful where she follows your previous path to the window. 

“I want my daddy.” Nothing if not a daddy’s girl, your heart breaks at the sight of her tears welling up again, certainly no hope of anyone but him soothing her broken soul. The matter is furthered when a loud crack of thunder rumbles and the first spit of water sprinkles against the glass. “Daddy!” 

She wails then and you're rounding the short distance from the table to kneel at her side, accepting her with open arms when she throws herself forward, spiraled by fear. She’s inconsolable and you almost want to start crying yourself. Her hands tighten into fists in your sweater and yours are gliding up and down her back. 

Another crack of thunder and you don’t think she can get any closer, terrified of the monsters causing a ruckus in the clouds. It’s a wonder the lights don’t go out entirely, but they begin to flicker and it’s daunting enough that even you’re on edge. 

You feel horrible, unable to produce the right fix to calm Wren enough that she’s no longer trembling in your arms. You attempt to talk her down, a coaxing filled with soft words, your hand gliding against one of her pigtails. Her breathing has lost all pretenses, uneven huffs of air all she can manage in her race to keep pace with her dampened emotions.

“Wren?” You glance toward the door, an unfamiliar man is standing half damp and out of breath in the doorway. You’re about to ask who he is, but Wren wrenches herself from you before you have the chance, her tiny body bolting across the room and into his arms. He catches her up like he’s done so a million times before, immediately comforting her with a doting patience.

“Daddy, where were you!?” She cries, muffled against his neck where he cradles her, pressing kisses to her crown. “We were waiting for so long and then it got dark and scary.” 

“I know. I’m so sorry, sweet girl. Got held up at work and then there was an accident on the way here and I couldn’t get to a phone. I’m so sorry.” His explanation is partially directed at you, still crouched and awe struck near Wren’s chair. “Thank you for staying with her. I’m really sorry I’m late.” 

“I—it’s no problem, but…who are you?” He looks up from where he was in the midst of further consoling Wren whose tears have fallen much quieter but wouldn’t halt altogether for a while yet. His brows furrow, but he stumbles forward with his hand outstretched. An admirable feat with the way Wren demands his every attention, her fingers grasping at the extension of his sleeve.

“I’m Steve Harrington, Wren’s dad.” 

“No…Wren’s dad is Eddie. I met him yesterday…” You finally stand, looking between the two of them on high alert. Neither of you miss the way Wren wiggles in Steve’s arms, a giggle followed by wet sniffling. “Oh—oh my are you two…? I’m so sorry I didn’t know, please excuse my rudeness. I don’t mean anything by it, I’m sure you guys are a great couple.” 

“No!” There’s barely a pause, just a momentary confusion followed by  a disturbance twitching amongst the muscles of Steve’s face. “We’re not—I mean Eddie and I are not a couple. He just helps me out and picks her up from school most days. I’m Wren’s dad…her only dad.” 

You’re unsure whether you should laugh or not, but the mortification of the whole thing doesn’t allow you much of a choice. Your hand flies to cover the expanse of your mouth, fighting the sputter of voice that shapes itself as a nervous giggle. Steve hitches Wren higher where she clings to his chest, the girl gone quiet since her previous giggling. 

“Wren?” Steve prompts her, leaning back so he can see her tear stained cheeks.

“Me and Uncle Eddie tricked her.” Wren admits and you imagine the feeling of panic that crawled into your chest would’ve been horribly constricting were it not for the small chuckle from Steve. 

“You know that wasn’t very nice, right? What if something happened and your teacher got confused about who to call?” Not a huge concern considering the heaps of paperwork in your own files as well as the front office, but Steve runs with it all the same and Wren’s cheeks redden from more than her previous display of emotions. “I think you need to apologize to her, please.” 

“I’m sorry. Wasn’t nice to trick you, I’ll make sure Uncle Eddie gets in trouble too.” She promises burying her head back into Steve’s chest, shoulders still steadily heaving. 

“It’s okay, Wren, I think I’m the one who should be a little embarrassed for not realizing.” You puff, glancing at your heels shifting against the pattern tile. “In any case, I’m Y/n Y/l/n. I guess it’s good to actually meet you this time.” 

“No, please, I should be the one embarrassed for taking so long to meet you in the first place. It’s just that I'm usually working and I don’t get off in time to pick her up.” In the silence that follows, the patter of rain pelts the window and thunder echoes in the distance, a warning that you’re not quite in the worst of it. 

“Well now we’ve met, and Wren was just so excited to have you pick her up!” 

“Now Wren is ready to go home.” She pouts, something you’ve never bore witness to. You think she’s just being difficult in that way kids do when they don’t feel entirely okay about what’s happening. Steve seems put out, kissing the top of her head and smoothing her jacket beneath his palms. You walk the length back to her chair, gathering her pink backpack and sliding the untouched juicebox into the side pocket.

“Thank you.” Steve accepts the bag and carefully slings it over his shoulder. “Actually I was hoping we’d be able to talk sometime? I was planning on doing it today but obviously that’s not gonna happen, so maybe we could schedule something?” 

“Oh, yeah of course. Just let me know what works best for you.” 

“I’ll give you a call later in the week to set something up. I think I need to get someone home.” Wren nods against his chest, mumbling something you don’t quite catch. “Say bye please.” 

“Bye, thank you for the snack.” It’s an effort not to coo at the way her head momentarily lifts to glance back at you, her eyes puffy under the weight of her tears but a toothy grin making its way to her cheeks. 

“You’re welcome, sweetie. See you tomorrow.”

You watch them leave, quick to gather your own belongings and brave the strengthening storm. You stop off, just a quick pit before heading home.It’s frigid outside, the constant downpour seeping into your bones by the time you step into the general store around six.

“You're late. Rough day with the kiddos?” You pile a fresh assortment of markers to the counter, always stocking up on something these days. The most recent supply shortage is a result of a habit unteachable in most kids until they manage a hint of perfectionism in their adolescent craft. The tips of the markers seem to recede further inward with each use and soon they’ll be nothing but cylinders of plastic.

“Yeah, there was a parent late for pick-up so I had to stick around a little longer.”

“Did you tell them you’re not a daycare service?” Joyce pops a hard candy into her mouth, offering one across the counter. You take the wrapped good between your fingers, the ghost of a smile pinching your muscles. 

“No, he was really nice and apologized a million times. Plus, his daughter is really sweet so I didn’t mind.”

“His daughter’s sweet, huh?” Her tone holds a teasing lilt, one you ignore in favor of popping the candy past your lips. Strawberry.

“How long are you in for? It’s getting pretty ugly out there.” 

“Yeah, I’ll probably start closing up behind you so I can get home to Will.” She passes your bag over the counter, heading to the door to flip the ‘closed’ sign. “You should come over for dinner in a couple of weeks! I meant to invite you the other day, but it completely slipped my mind.” 

“Oh, are you having people over? A couple of weeks is a lot of notice.”

“Just a few, something casual that I like to do from time to time. Just some of Will’s friends and some of mine, which includes you now.” You beam, twirling your bag between your fingers in an attempt not to seem too eager at the small admission. You haven’t had much time to navigate Hawkins before the start of the school year and no one seemed keen on letting you forget your lack of camaraderie. 

“That would be really great, thank you. Should I bring anything?” 

“If you want. But those kids will eat anything so don’t think too hard about it.” 

“Great! I should get going, but I’ll probably see you in a few days. The kids have started rebelling against me by breaking all the crayons into halves.” 

“Yikes.”

“I guess I should just be glad they’re sharing, right?”

~*~

“Wren, please eat your dinner.”

She’s been like this since they got home, a refusal to cooperate with Steve’s attempts at getting her to do anything. He’s not upset with her, more annoyed at the entirety of the situation; at Keith for keeping him longer than necessary and at the jackass who rear ended the poor old woman on his drive to school. 

She’s barely spoken a word to him since he buckled her into her booster seat and placed a kiss to her cheek with another apology for being so late. He thinks it a feat she wandered over to the table at all, now sitting stock straight and stubborn as ever.

The storm still rages outside, pelting the window with ferocity. Steve can tell Wren isn’t unafraid, but too upset with him to voice her concerns about it. He knows it’s at least part of her sour mood, but it doesn’t feel whole.

“Don’t want it.” She pouts, Floppy tucked beneath her arm and her fingers jammed between her lips. She’s red in the cheeks, has been since he found her crying in your arms, and he thinks she might be warm from all her fussing. He made a can of soup, chicken noodle because she’s going through a phase and has decided tomato looks too much like vomit.

“Come on, lovebug, just a little before it gets cold.” 

He pilots the spoon to her lips and she seals them tight, shaking her head and shoving it away. The spoon skitters along the table, golden liquid splashing everywhere. 

“No!”

It’s a long meditated practice in patience and the lingering resentment from his own childhood that keeps him from losing it just then. He stands from the chair at her side and silently grabs the spoon from the center of the table to toss into the full bowl. He dabs at the spilled broth with a napkin, slowly to give him more time to collect the heavy emotion coiling in his chest. 

“Wren, go to your room.” He thinks she must be able to feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. He can see her climbing from her chair without a word to trudge down the hall, her heavy steps sinking into the carpet. He winces when she slams the door then he’s collapsing at the table shielding his face in his hands.

He’s at a loss. He feels frustrated and pathetic. His kid is just being a kid, throwing a tantrum. He should be able to handle it, right? 

He thinks it would be easier if it was something she’d ever done before, but she hasn’t. Sure she’s pouted over small things like the wrong color popsicle or having to keep her beloved bunny home when she goes to school, but those things are kissed away as easily as they popped into her beautiful little brain. Never has she been so forthright in her ire that she outright refuses to listen.

This time he doesn’t even really know the problem, so how’s he supposed to fix it?

He leaves her for a while, both of them needing the situation to cool a bit before he attempts to neutralize it. The apartment is silent save for the sound of him cleaning the dishes from dinner, tucking the uneaten soup into a container for later. He glances at the clock, the time nearing eight-thirty when he decides he’s spent enough time stewing.

When he enters her room, the lights are on and he can see her in a lump beneath her comforter. 

“Wren.” She shifts beneath the blankets, alerting him she’s not asleep, but doesn’t respond as anything other than a quiet whimper. “Can we talk please, lovebug? I’m not mad, I just wanna know what’s wrong.” 

He settles beside her, gently tugging the blanket back expecting to find her head resting against the pillow. Instead her feet poke out of the top, his hand playfully caressing her heels and she giggles kicking at him. 

“Daddy!” She squeals when he pulls her free from the mass of blankets to settle in his lap. She’s changed, a pair of bright blue pajamas in place of her denim. 

“There’s my Wren.”  He smiles and she curls further into him. “Okay, bug, wanna tell me what’s goin on? Is it because I was late?” 

She crawls out of his lap to settle beneath her blankets and lifts the edge, a silent invitation he gladly accepts. He begins pulling the ribbons from her hair, something she couldn’t always manage on her own. He frees the loose strands from the clips secured at her scalp and plops them on her nightstand. She hums when his hands run through her hair, loosening it around her shoulders. 

“Today was a hard day, but I need you to talk to me. I can’t make it better if I don’t know what’s wrong.” He waits another moment for her to speak, knowing sometimes she chews on words a little longer because she wants to be understood.

“I thought you weren’t coming and I was so scared.” It’s barely a whisper, hands grabbing at one of Steve’s where it holds her against him. Both of her hands fit into the span of his palm and it reminds him that though her maturity is great she’s still barely past the point of sleeping through the night. Just a little girl more afraid of the world than even he realizes. 

“I’m sorry I scared you, but I need you to understand that I will always come for you, Wren. No matter what.” 

“But what if you don’t? What if you never come just like mama.” His heart breaks entirely too suddenly, the fractured pieces seeping with sorrow for his daughter’s bleak admission. 

It’s not often she asks about her mom, always content with things the way they are, just the two of them. Steve explained things as best he could without damning her with the knowledge that it was without a heavy heart that her mother handed her over and ditched Hawkins for a “better future”. One without teen pregnancy in the rearview. 

He figured it wasn’t something he’d have to address again until she was much older, and certainly not because she was afraid he would leave her behind.

“Is that what this is about? You’ve been thinking about your mom?” 

“Everyone’s always talking about their moms at school and it just made me think about mine. I don’t know her at all, not even a picture.” She sighs, head lolling to one side as the day begins to catch up to her. “I look in the mirror sometimes to see, but everyone says I look just like you.” 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl, I wish things could be different.” He loves them the way they are, but he would never deny her the opportunity to have a mother. 

“Do you think she’ll ever come to see me?” 

“I don’t know, bug, I’m sorry.” 

Wren pauses for a beat, like she’s thinking about exactly how it makes her feel. 

“It’s okay, daddy, I love you most.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, sloppy and full of affection. Just enough to make him smile through this painful moment of parenting. “Just don’t ever leave me.” 

“I’ve got you, don’t you worry about that.” He holds her like that for a while, listening to her breathing as it evens out, pressed against him with her rabbit beneath her arm. He slowly untangles himself and slides the length of the mattress, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Daddy?” Her sleep filled voice stops him in his tracks. 

“Yeah?”

“Do I look like her…just a little?” 

He wants to tell her that she looks like his little girl, the only thing that matters to him in the world, but he knows it's not what she needs right now. 

“Of course you do.” She smiles sleepily and he places another soft kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, sweet girl.” 

“Goodnight, daddy.” 

~*~

“Okay, Wren, you can pick one.” Steve stands at attention, one hand slipping from his pocket to secure the hat over Wren’s ears before she can jet off between the rows of pumpkins. He dots kisses on her nose, her tongue darting out to tease his chin much to her own amusement. “Just make sure it’s a good one, I don’t want one that’s molding after a few days like last time.” 

“Daddy, that wasn’t my fault.” She’s adamant, has been ever since the incident first occurred. Now she’s taken to shifting on her feet with her hands on her hips, far too much like Steve if anyone were to judge. “You’re the one who put it right by the window so its insides got cooked by the sun!” 

“I wasn’t blaming you, I was just saying!” 

It was a promise he made the morning after the talk. To come out to one of the local farms and let Wren pick a pumpkin out this weekend. She’s been on her best behavior and he still feels guilt bleeding into his gut after what happened. 

Either way it’s tradition, letting her pick a pumpkin so they can gut it and carve it into a face. Wren is mostly into the sport of the whole thing, running up and down the rows of the patch dead set on finding the perfect pumpkin. She’s usually too grossed out by the mess of scooping the stringy organs of the fall fruit and Steve is certainly not comfortable with her wielding a carving knife, but he always lets her draw the face, silently questioning her ability to get the marker everywhere.

She also loves roasting the seeds and Steve usually picks a second pumpkin because Joyce will make pie or a pumpkin roll.

Wren races off, her converse kicking up the dried dirt and leaves beneath her feet. Steve watches her closely, wincing when she nearly trips over a root. Never a dull moment. 

“Hey…you’re Wren’s dad, right?” The tone is teasing, and Steve glances to find you, Wren’s teacher with an assortment of baby pumpkins in a crate tucked in your arms. 

You spotted him in the thin crowd after purchasing the barrage of seasonal squash and debated for the better part of five minutes whether it would be odd to amble over. Curiosity got the better and here you stand in the beholden of Steve Harrington with what you would describe as a look of adorable confusion dotting the lines of his cheeks.

“Hi, yeah, nice to see you again, Ms…”

“Y/n is fine.” 

“Y/n. Are you hunting for class pumpkins?” He gently coaxes the box from your arms, chuckling at the way your shoulders sag without the extra weight. He glances toward Wren, making sure she’s not too far gone and finds her bent over chatting animatedly with a plump gourd.

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun to have a little pumpkin decorating contest. Though, glitter and paint…I might not have as much fun as them.” He’s immediately smitten with your smile, the way it takes over the entirety of your face and pushes at the edges of your eyes. “What about you? Gonna see if you can out decorate Wren? I’ve got bad news for you because as her teacher I can confirm that you’re gonna lose.” 

“Oh I have no doubt. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve fished one of her drawings out of my pocket at work.” He sounds exasperated but the entirety of his fondness is concentrated in the raised crinkles of his eyes. 

“That’s so sweet.” 

“Not so sweet when you pass it to your boss instead of the list of new releases—”

“Aw, he didn’t like it?” Your hand covers the crease in your cheek, feigned surprise to counter Steve’s lopsided grimace.

“Told me to stop messing around on the job.” 

“Well, I think it’s totally worth it. You’ve got a pretty great kid.” It feels odd, the umbrella of formality shading your exchange. Steve’s not sure what it is, but as much as he wants to he feels awkward suggesting a topic more casual than a teacher praising her pupil, unsure if it would be a toe too far over the line. “You never called by the way!” 

“Huh?” He’s taken out of his thoughts for a moment, the words something he hasn’t heard someone say to him with such curiosity since high school. It’s ridiculously reminiscent and he has to remind himself that he’s so far removed from that time in his life that it wouldn’t make any sense to think of it now.

“About that meeting you wanted to set up. I only mention it because you seemed a little concerned…” 

“Oh, yeah. Maybe we could do it sometime this week? I can plan a half day and we can talk when I come to pick Wren up…I promise I’ll be on time.” 

“Yeah, that sounds fine. How is Wren after the other day? She was pretty shaken up.” Your concern warms him beneath the cool of autumn, the sight of Wren happier than ever zig-zagging between pumpkins not enough to sway you from the certainty of her well-being. 

He wonders if his sudden fondness for you is strange. Hopefully not when you’ve shown such an astounding interest in his daughter. He hasn’t missed the extra encouragement on her papers, little notes left in the margins about the anecdotes Wren shares with you in class. 

He’s choosing to ignore the flutter of attraction that washed over him when he saw you standing there with pumpkins in your arms. It’s simple but the way you’re wearing your cute orange sweater and flared jeans is like nothing he’s seen before. Not the clothes really, but the way you wear them with such nonchalance, picking at pumpkin shaded fuzz like you don’t realize you’re more than a momentary guide for the youth of Hawkins. 

“She’s better, thank you for asking.” 

“Daddy!” Just in time Wren sprints over, tugging on the fabric of his jeans with urgency. He thinks she might have to use the restroom with the way she balances on the toes of her converse, eyes larger than usual. “Daddy, come on we have to get this one before someone takes it! What’s in your hands? You can’t carry our pumpkin with that thing in the way.” 

“I’m sorry, your dad was just giving me a hand.” Wren spots you then, hanging from Steve’s leg like she’ll fly away if she eases up. 

“Oh…hi. Did you hear about the pumpkins too?” She glances the way she came, still on edge about the perfect pumpkin escaping her grasp. “My daddy and I are gonna decorate one. I want it to look like Uncle Eddie.” 

She does the horns again and Steve swears he’s gonna kick Eddie’s ass. 

“That sounds like fun! I don’t wanna keep you from your pumpkin, but you can tell me all about it on Monday. Maybe even take a picture so we can hang it in the classroom.” 

Wren brightens at that, half because you’ve remembered her camera and half at the prospect of her hellfire pumpkin wreaking havoc on her classmates. You look back at Steve, arms extended for the lofty crate and he hesitates for a moment. He’s not unnoticed by Wren who glances between her teacher and her dad, catching the lack of space between them. 

“You should come have lunch with us! We’re going to Benny’s and he has the yummiest french fries. Don’t you like french fries?” She inquires with her wide eyes, forgetting altogether about the perfect pumpkin, Steve notes. 

“Come on, Wren, everyone loves french fries.” You placate her, though not without glancing at Steve, bashful under his attentive gaze. He doesn’t step in, more than happy to have you join but no intention to pressure you more than Wren already has. He knows it may seem mean spirited, but he’s not willing to embarrass himself by making it clear he’s not ready to see you go, whatever the reason may be. “You know, I’d love to, but I should probably get home.” 

“Noooo!” Wren drags it out, leaving a wrinkle where she’d been gripping Steve’s pants. He shakes the leg and watches horrified when Wren clears the gap between the two of you and yanks the edge of your sweater. “You have to come! It’ll be perfect!” 

“Wren.” He hopes the hard tone isn’t something he’ll have to use more often, but it does the trick. Wren takes a step back, the grace of embarrassment sticking to her cheeks in a rose blush. “Sorry, she just gets a little excited sometimes. But you’re more than welcome to join us if you want.” 

“I don’t wanna impose, looks like you two are having a cute day together.” 

“It’s not imposing, we’re inviting you.” Steve tuts, freeing his hand long enough to swipe at a strand clinging to his forehead. He can see you thinking it over, which means that you do want to come, you just aren’t sure it’s a good idea. “Benny does have the best fries.” 

“Yeah, and you look cute today too! It’ll be a cute day with the three of us!” 

“Well…I am pretty hungry. Plus, I think I have to be the judge of those fries.” 

“Yay!” Wren dances in place, reaching for Steve’s occupied hands. “Daddy, we have to go get our pumpkin. I want chicken tendies.” 

“Ok, why don’t you go on over and make sure no one takes it. I’ll be there in a second.” He nods in the direction she came from, watching her skip back between the rows with nothing more than a breathless affirmation. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind me tagging along? I know it can be hard to say ‘no’ sometimes.” 

“Positive. Wren seems to like you a lot and I'd like to get to know you better myself.”

“I’d like to get to know you too. I mean, it’s always good to know what kinds of parents I’m working with.” He’s cheeky now, element restored upon realization that you’re just as nervous as he is. 

“If you like to get to know all your parents…then you were just playing hard to get?” You blanche, placing your hands on the edge of your crate of pumpkins. You lose your balance but Steve tugs the weight toward him to help you steady. 

You’re transfixed following your dissipation of momentary panic. If you thought Eddie was pretty you aren’t quite comfortable with the way your chest skips a beat when you really look at Steve. 

There’s something of a conventional attraction to him, all hazel eyes and big hair, styled just perfectly to steal your attention away from the deep blue fleece jacket obscuring the t-shirt you imagine hugging his arms. His smile pushes into dimples, precious divots in the plains of his complexion, curling with his lips when he speaks. 

There are also the perfect imperfections like moles dotting his skin and the freckles lining his nose from the kiss of summer still lingering with his fading tan. The way his nose stands out amongst the symmetry of his features, all but forcing you to wonder what it would feel like if you kissed him and felt the flush of it against your skin.

“As if any of them would offer.” 

“Hm, their loss.” 

“Strong words for someone who doesn’t know me all that well. Let me take those! I think I’ve kept you from your pumpkins long enough.” Both of you realize the awkward dance you’re fallen victim to. Fingers kissing in the holes of the crate in effect of your attempt to fully unmarry Steve from it. “Um…thanks for the break. Should I meet you guys at Benny's? I don’t want these to get all gross in the car, so I wanna drop em’ off.” 

“We could pick you up.” Steve takes a leap, unclear of his intentions but too late to take it back. He can hear a distant singing, Wren’s attempts to coax him in her direction and it forces him further. “I mean, it’s no trouble. Would be easier if we just grabbed you on the way because I never know how long she’s gonna take with these things.” 

“I’m well aware.” You laugh and he knows you really mean it. It’s a refreshing feeling, someone who actually understands him rather than blank stares and constant confusion when he explains a concept foreign to anyone without a mini version of themselves plodding two steps behind them at all times. You pull a pad from the tote hanging on your shoulder and an ink pen just behind it; scribbling for a moment you tear the flesh of the page slipping it between Steve’s fingers. “Take your time, I’m happy to wait until she has the perfect pumpkin.”

“Strong words.” 

“I mean every one of them.” 

~*~ 

As it turns, the perfect pumpkin took longer than you initially anticipated. Not that you mind, it gave you enough time to make sure all your pumpkins were clean and stored somewhere suitable until you brought them in Monday morning. You almost want to change, the lingering layer of dirt a ghost against your skin, but it feels too formal and you don’t want Steve to think anything of it. 

You opt to thoroughly wash your hands and spritze a fresh layer of perfume, in the middle of the second step when there’s a knock at the door. You fumble the bottle, panicking when it crashes into the porcelain sink just barely catching between your thumb and pointer. Your recovery is short lived when you hear the front door balancing on its hinges. 

“Hello! We’re here for Ms. Y/l/n.” Wren sings and you can already picture your aunt bending to greet her with the biggest smile, glancing toward Steve filled with a hopeful curiosity.

You hurry into the hall, watching Steve’s shoulders loosen when he spots you speeding toward them. Your aunt is in fact folded in half, her hands on her knees while she talks to Wren. You hope she’s not wearing her usual perfume, the one that makes her smell more like a burnt cookie than the fresh one touted on the label.

“Well hi there! I don’t think we’ve met before.” You lock eyes with Steve, hoping the funny look on your face is explanation enough. 

“I’m Wren Harrington! I’m five years old and I want chicken tenders.” Wren slouches backward into Steve’s legs, eyes brightening like she’s just realized he’s there. “This is my daddy!”

“Steve, nice to meet you.” You bound over, placing your hand on the curve of your aunt’s shoulders, drawing her attention away from your current company. You see the glint in her eye before she can speak, lengthening your speech for the occasion. 

“I’ve told you about Wren before! She’s the one who drew me that lovely picture with all the flowers.” You draw the comparison because it was ages spent listening to her talk about how cute it was everytime she opened the fridge. You agree, but the gasp of shock with nearly every gallon of iced tea has grown to an increasing redundancy so you’re positive she hasn’t forgotten it.

“You saw my picture?” It’s like it’s been hung in a gallery the way Wren leaps forward, her eyes finding pace around the room like it’s here and she just hasn’t found it yet. You can guess her own house must be filled with her in small doses, plastered to the fridge and reflected in frames. It doesn’t take a degree to see that Steve is just as fond of Wren as she is of him, his eyes lingering on her excitement. 

“I sure did, made your favorite teacher hang it right on the fridge for everyone to see!” 

“Can I see?!” Wren glances at Steve, a silent permission to venture further into the unfamiliar home when your aunt extends her hand. 

“Go on.” He nods, patting her back to gently thrust her forward. He gives you his whole attention then, brow raised against his hairline and a kind smile cresting his lips. “The fridge huh?” 

“You should’ve just honked, it would’ve saved you the trouble.” 

“I don’t mind. Wren can find a friend in just about anyone.” You can hear the excited chatter coming from the kitchen, no doubt Wren’s willingness to guide her audience through the entirety of her creation from the color crayons to the touch of glitter you recollect painting the sky. There’s an awkward lull standing here with Steve, one you attempt to remedy.

“So, what is it that you do exactly? You’ve mentioned work keeps you occupied.” 

“Oh.” Steve shifts awkwardly, cheeks tinged a crimson shade. You worry you’ve stepped too far, still unversed in the politics of small town suburbia. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude. Forget I asked.” Steve knuckles your shoulder, a small smile, a consolation.

“No, it’s…I don’t mind. Let’s just say I’m no professional or anything.”

“You’ve got time, I promise. No judgment here.”  

“I’ve been working at Family Video since I graduated basically. Not that I would’ve gotten in, but with Wren college was near impossible.” You don’t miss the derogation coating the words. It pains you to think he blames his lack of what he deems professionalism on some preconceived notion of success not within his reach. “I’m not really sure what to do now, so it puts food on the table, ya know?” 

“Nothing wrong with not knowing. Especially when you and Wren are both so young.” You shrug, your own attempt at alleviating the misplaced self hate. “I mean, maybe she can help you find what you wanna do. Kids tend to be the best judge of character.” 

“You’re the best!” Wren runs back into the room, bulldozing right into your knees and burrowing into your sweater. “Thank you for hanging my picture.” 

“See?” You nudge Steve, assuaging his uncertainty about Wren’s sudden affection. “Of course I hung it, no one’s ever drawn me anything before. I love it!” 

“Well, I can draw you pictures all the time. Don’t even worry about it!” Wren’s exuberance is palpable, the whole of the room sprinkled with the fondness of her unbridled youth. “Can we go now? I’m hungry.”

“You all should get going, don’t let me keep you. I’ve got a coffee date with Gretchen anyhow.” She all but shoves the lot of you toward the front door, Wren already fastened around the hand your aunt hasn’t shoved your purse into. “Have fun! It was nice meeting you two, we’ll have dinner sometime.” 

It’s a process getting Wren into her booster, her body flailing all over the place like her limbs are sentient in their own right. It’s the excitement of the whole thing and Steve is out of breath but still calm when he settles in the driver's seat. You manage to school your amusement, but he catches a glimpse of it all the same. 

“Something funny?” 

“Nope, we're all good. Right, Wren?” 

“All good!” She parrots, a small blanket tucked across her chest. It’s cute, a soft pink color patterned with white plaid. “Your aunt is very nice but she smells like fire and chocolate. I thought she was cooking badly, but she said she wasn’t cooking anything.”

“Wren, that's not very nice.” Steve admonishes, tinkering with the dial on the radio. 

“No it’s okay, she’s right. It’s her new perfume, Wren. I haven’t had the heart to tell her it doesn’t smell as good as she thinks.” Your head lolls over, eyes glancing toward the backseat where Wren is picking at her nails. “Hey, you got the pumpkins!” 

She looks at you, then flashes her hand forward to point at them. “I got candy corn too! I think they taste gross, but Max said it just looks pretty.” 

“They do, they look so pretty. I’m jealous.” 

“I also got a ghost…his name is Steve Sheet.” She wags her pointer finger, painted black with an open mouthed ghost staring back. 

“Any relation?” You momentarily lock eyes with the human Steve as he fastens his arm around your seat and pushes to reverse.

“I’m not sayin a word.” 

“Last Halloween I asked daddy to dress up with me and he wore a sheet on his head. I asked if he was a ghost and he said he was Steve Sheet.” Wren fills in giggling. “Isn’t that just so silly?” 

“The silliest. But I bet Steve Sheet was very cute.” 

“I was a very handsome sheet, thank you. Wren, hand please.” You look back in time to see her pulling her fingers from her lips and wiping them on her bottoms. She mumbles something about how he always sees her, very inconvenienced by the whole thing. 

There’s a contented silence for the remainder of the ride to Benny’s save for Wren’s frequent mumbling to herself in the backseat. Steve seems unbothered, like she does it often. When you take a moment to listen long enough you realize she’s practicing reading the signs as they flash. You’ve been working on helping her with pronunciation in class and she’s still having trouble but your heart is full at how easily she can make out the words even if they don’t sound entirely correct.

You think you could stay like this. A fleeting thought, but a thought you know is genuine.

When you’re finally sliding into a table at Benny’s Burgers Wren is a bit stumped. You and Steve take opposite sides of the table and the girl stands at the head like you’ve given her an impossible choice.

“Where should I sit?” Hands on her hips, lips pouting toward the two as if you should’ve all sat on one side. 

“You should sit with me because I’m your favorite teacher in the world, right?” You slide the chair out, patting the lightly cushioned seat with a candy grin. Wren slowly nods her head, drifting over.

“Now wait just a second!” Steve cuts him, feigned offense lining his lips. He frees the chair beside him from beneath the table, dotting his chin with his pointer finger in much thought. “I think that as the best daddy in the world, your words Miss Harrington not mine, you should come and sit next to me.” 

“That’s a good point, I did say that. Benny, what do I do?” The man himself stations at the head of the table, a kind smile when Wren addresses him with his grease stained henley and a loose apron lining his waist. “We have to talk about getting a circle table. At school we have circle tables and I can sit next to both of my friends!”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He chuckles, plopping a thin coloring book and a box of crayons down and sliding one of the extra chairs so it’s situated between yourself and Steve. “For now, how about this?” 

“Perfect! And you remembered my coloring book? You’re the best!” Wren climbs into the seat, flipping the book open to a half colored kitten with rainbow stripes and exaggerated whiskers. “Benny this is Ms. Y/l/n, she’s my teacher and she’s never had your french fries before.” 

“Well she better be new in town.” He huffs, mocking some fickle offense at the mere thought. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too, and call me Y/n. I’m pretty eager to try the best fries ever.” 

“Well I’ll get started on em right away if you all know what you want? Well…I know what these two regs want.” He nods toward Steve and Wren, the former seeming caught at the revelation that they come here far more than maybe they should. “What can I get you?” 

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, no tomato please, with fries and a coke.” Benny nods, tapping his pen against the pad of paper and trudging back to the kitchen.

“Wren, you can call me by my first name when we’re not in school, I promise I don’t mind.” You pat her free hand, the one not hard at work coloring the kitten a lovely shade of amethyst. She looks up, lips opening and closing silently. Practicing. 

“First name?” She asks, like it’s a trick. 

“Uh huh! It feels so weird to be Ms anything outside of school. Makes me feel old.” Wren giggles but goes back to her coloring, mumbling a chord in which she just repeats your name to herself over and over. You find Steve then, pulling at the plastic corner of one of the menus.

“How long have you been in town?” He attempts to lead the conversation, still not exactly sure where to take you. He hopes you don’t bring him to the realization that you’ve really always been in town, perhaps one of those people he was always too self involved to notice. 

It seems unlikely, the whole of your existence feeling like something he wouldn’t have been able to ignore in school. Though perhaps you’d be the one doing the ignoring, far too out of his league when he really thinks of it. 

“Oh, not long. I only got in officially about a week before school started. I’m still getting used to it all really. The small town vibe.”

“You didn’t live here before?” Wren interrupts, moved from the kitten to the tight ball of yarn with a soft orange crayon. 

“Nope. I moved here to work after school. Hawkins seemed like a good place to get my feet wet after student teaching in the city.” 

“Well I’m glad you’re here!” Benny cuts in again then, passing drinks around, a sippy cup filled with juice for Wren, like it’s been waiting for her return. “The other teacher seemed nice, but I heard she always gave the class raisins for snack.” 

“I’m glad I’m here too.” You scrunch your nose, sipping from your coke and nearly coughing from the sudden carbonation building in your chest. “It’s nice, but it’s definitely daunting. Everyone already seems to know each other so I’m not really sure where I fit.”

“Trust me, it’s not just because you’re new. People here are unwelcoming at the best of times even if they’re all smiles. But now you’ve got Wren and I to show you the ropes.” Steve grabs a hold of Wren’s sippy cup, double checking Benny didn’t sneak any soda, and slips it closer to the center of the table so Wren’s arm isn’t nearly nudging it to the floor. 

You’re amiable until your food arrives, Steve inquiring about your time in school, clearly feeling some sense of longing though you’re not sure what for exactly. It’s hard to grasp his feelings on the whole thing and you’re too uninitiated to ask outright. 

You lightly tread when asking him about his own experiences. He mostly talks about Wren in her younger years— ”Daddy it was always Floppy!” —and the gaggle of children that have become all but his family. He glosses over the ones long gone and nestles himself in the affection of the ones gone but soon to return. By the time Benny is placing steaming plates in front of your intimate trio you feel like you’d do anything to know more about Steve Harrington. So open yet admiringly elusive.

You decide rather quickly that Benny’s fries are some of the best you’ve ever had and Wren seems satisfied at your admission. She doesn’t talk much through her eating, but Steve seems worried about the way she’s shoveling it down. 

“Lovebug, please slow down before you choke. I promise it’s not going anywhere. Have a drink of juice.” 

“But daddy, I’m hungryyyy!” She drags the words like she’s not already eating, like taking even a moment from the crispy chicken will be her end all. Steve ignores the drama, wetting his thumb and dragging it along a dollop of ketchup at the corner of her lips. 

“Wren, please.” Is all he says, sucking his finger clean and taking a hearty bite of his burger. She listens, taking a lengthy sip of juice but immediately shoving another tender into her cheeks. Steve looks like he’s prepared to scold her again but her brows lift to the sky and she bounces in her seat.

“Uncle Eddie!” Wren exclaims through her mouthful of chicken. She halfheartedly chews, suddenly annoyed with the obstruction of speech. Even through the mumbled clamor Eddie is attuned to her presence right away. He struts over, the metal looped through his jeans clanking beneath the slap of his converse against the checkerboard tile. He’s not alone though. “Uncle Eddie, who is that lady?” 

She points to the girl who’d followed after him, standing a ways away like she wasn’t sure if she was welcome. If it were up to Wren she certainly wouldn’t be. 

“Hey, little bird, how’s my favorite girl?” Wren wastes no time making it abundantly clear she is not pleased that anyone else could take up Eddie’s time. She hums, settling back into her seat and chugging her juice. 

“Wren slow down, please.” Steve’s speech is automatic, you can tell it’s a common occurrence when Eddie doesn’t flinch.Steve isn’t nearly as coy about his line of questioning as Wren, peeking over Eddie’s shoulder but having half a mind to lower his voice so as not to scare her off. “You on a date?” 

“Something like that.” He waves it off, but brightens when his gaze lands on you, somewhat embarrassed to see Eddie after all but assuming he was Wren’s dad. “Seems I’m not the only one. What’s up, teach?” 

“Hey, Uncle Eddie. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Yeah I heard I was in trouble. I haven’t had detention since high school, but I have a feeling you’d make it a lot more fun.” He teases and Steve kicks his leg where rests at the base of Wren’s chair. 

“Uncle Eddie, sit with us!” Wren tugs at the lining of his jacket, whining a tad. It’s obvious it’s Eddie’s kryptonite, the way he kneels beside her and places a gentle kiss against her cheek indicative of how much it pains him to say ‘no’.

“I’m sorry, sweetness, but I’m here with my friend.” 

“Who is she? I don’t know her.” 

“No, you don’t. She’s just a friend, Wrennie, you don’t have to be jealous.” Eddie coos, pushing his nose against Wren’s to which she places her hands on his cheeks, pulling back to press her own kiss against his soft skin. 

“Daddy said date. A date is for love.”

“Sometimes a date can just be for fun or to get to know someone.” Eddie corrects, you and Steve watching him attempt to talk himself out of her bad graces. 

“You don’t need to get to know someone, you have me.”

“And you’re my favorite girl in the whole world, but I have to have someone to keep me occupied when your dad is hogging you.” Steve scoffs, hogging his own daughter, a highly amusing feat he seems to have reached. “I’ll come see you tomorrow. You can have me the whole day.” 

“Promise?” She extenders her pinky, her other hand curling its way around a piece of Eddie’s hair and gently yanking it at the roots. 

“I promise, super duper swear.” He connects their pinkies and tucks them against his lips. When he releases her she looks at his companion once more, moved to a table in the corner, where she periodically glances over like Eddie might have a seat or turn around and leave without her. She seems content enough and shoves a fry into her mouth, chewing animatedly. “Speaking of dates, this is a cute one you guys are on.” 

“It’s not a date Eddie, it’s a cute day!” Wren corrects, rubbing her salty fingers on her shirt before Steve can catch her with a napkin. There are already stains where she’d clearly already gotten away with it a number of times. “Daddy, are you okay? Why are you so red?” 

Despite your own heat, you look at Steve but not long enough for him to feel more embarrassed than he does. Eddie smiles, clapping Steve on the shoulder triumphantly. 

“I’m not, it’s just warm in here.” Steve mutters, avoiding you altogether.

“You look like a tomato.” She counters, dipping her fry in ketchup and holding it up to his face before shoving it at Eddie who bites it out of her hand. 

“No, I think it’s more like a heart. Right, Wren?” 

“Yeah a heart.” 

“Eddie, I think your friend is waiting for you.” You pipe up, pointing to the girl in the corner who is suddenly simpering. You don’t blame her irritation, being left alone while her date shoots the shit with people he won’t even introduce her to. Not that it would go particularly well. You’ve seen kids at their most jealous and suddenly Wren is no exception. 

“Okay, I goin. But don’t have too much fun without me, we still have to schedule that detention!” 

“Yeah, because Uncle Eddie has been bad!” Wren contributes, seeming to forget her role as a silent accomplice in the whole thing. 

“So bad!” Eddie agrees, sending Steve a wink over his shoulder. “I can’t wait to be punished.” 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fic #singledad!steve harrington #singledad!steve x teacher!reader #singledad!steve harrington x reader

[louisisalarrie]

hiiii, did you read the articles that harry wants to "get settled" now that he is thirty with his girlfriend, and he even started looking for rings, what is your opinion about it, i mean im kinda scared

I saw the headlines but I didn’t bother reading or clicking that shit, it’s ridiculous. Let me start this by saying the entertainment industry as a whole is ridiculously ageist. Anon, welcome to the show.

So, it’s seen fairly often in tabloids and interviews and articles, women in their late 20’s/early 30’s and onwards, being pressured about settling down and getting married and having kids. Hell, women in their every day lives get pressured and asked about this constantly too. Slowly, the script is flipping as more and more people are choosing not to have kids, but the societal pressure is still there. Because that’s what women are good for, right? Can’t be dating around as a women, can’t be a slag, you have to settle down and give the public your offspring so they have something to coo about and you look even more successful. You are “complete”. You’re “normal”. You’ve done what women are meant to do.

So, we see it all the time with women, and we do occasionally see it with men. Which sucks, and no one should be under that public scrutiny and pressure about their personal lives. But, the term “settle down” in relation to male stars, is used particularly for, you guessed it, men who are “womanisers”. Why isn’t the headline “TR and Harry look to settle down”? Why is the headline “Harry Styles ready to settle down”? Because, not to mention he’s way more famous than her, but he’s also notorious for sleeping with any woman with a pulse (so they say).

So, this narrative being pushed gets way more traction, because if you use the first headline that they are both ready to settle down, it implies TR wasn’t ready to begin with. But she is. Because she’s almost 30 and needs to have some kids before her biological clock runs out. Duh. So she’s finally caught the lothario that is Harry Styles™️. What next?

Of course! Now that they’re speculated to be engaged, and that news dies down, there needs to be another little shock. Perhaps… a baby bump? Well, not one exactly, but maybe a photo of TR after she’s had a big bowl of pasta that they can sell to the tabloids. Because it sells. Harry not only “settling down” but also a potential baby Harry? The fans will go crazy. The public will click on that link. That’s how to sell a narrative. And a new album. And some tickets to a play.

Now, none of this is probably news to you. We’ve seen it all before. It happened with him and OW too. It’s the standard relationship timeline, and hey… didnt TR’s play just start on stage in NY from March 3rd - 31st? Isn’t that great timing for her name to be tied to Harry with a big story in the press! What a coincidence!

So anyway, when we had the whole Louis and E engagement stories, we had way different headlines than Harry. Even though louis was an “off the rails party boy”, we got headlines that didn’t mention settling down at all. And that’s because, apart from a very short stint of blonde girls occasionally piling up in his van after clubbing and an “accidental child with a one night stand”, he’s always been a long term relationship guy. Always going back to E. So, he doesn’t have that narrative like Harry does. But also, everyone wants a piece of harry. He’s in high demand right now, so isn’t TR so very lucky!

Anyway, if there’s rumours two folks are engaged, the breakup articles sell even better. It means it was a super serious shocking split as opposed to TR being another one of Harry’s flings and he wasn’t serious about her at all. Hence the engagement articles. And we saw that with Louis, although louis seems to address rumours a lot more than harry, for image/PR op reasons. Remember his “no, no, no!” In that interview when being asked about his engagement? Ahhh… good times.

So, we can probably expect a BUA soon, when TR’s play finishes, and Harry announces something. So hold on for me, anon!

I also have a theory, that Harry’s narrative is slowly moving towards settling down, because when he comes out with/without Louis, it’ll look more serious when they get together. It’s not going to be “harry experimenting with sexuality”. It’s gonna be “he’s serious, he’s been wanting to settle down for a while, this isn’t a phase”. Well… more along those lines anyway. Maybe not straight away. But yeah, so that’s also why I think there has been a couple of engagement jumpscares, and also his narrative shifting from sexy womaniser to wholesome loving and doting man who wants to settle down.

Anyway, if you got this far, thanks for reading! Always fun to talk about industry stuff. xx

#anon #answered #stunts #louisisalarrie chats

[jwcc-confessions]

To be upfront, I like both ships.

Season 4 had a lot of bad takes when it came to romance, from Brooklyn thinking Kenji’s tantrum towards Darius was “kind of adorable” to Yaz telling Sammy that she was the only reason that had any feelings at all.

I also hate how the ships started from a lack of basic respect of personal boundaries on Sammy and Kenji’s end. Like when Yaz told Sammy she wasn’t really a hugger and Sammy told her that she was now. (We can see that Yaz actually appreciates the hug but Sammy can’t.) and when Kenji continued to flirt with Brooklyn after she repeatedly turned him down and was visibly annoyed with him doing it.

Like sure, it all worked out for all of them, they became close friends getting together, and the relationships are healthy, but those takes and starting points still irk me. Especially since this is a kids show.

I have many thoughts about this. You're right about Kenji, he flirts with Brooklynn and Yaz a lot in s1 and is generally a jerk. And the show acknowledges that to an extent, it's played for laughs and then he gets Character Development™️ so the show sort of lumps all his past asshat behaviours together and writes them off in one go, so we're expected to forget about the persistent flirting? Made more annoying by the fact that he does "get the girl" in the end anyway. Yeah it's after he's mellowed out and he's more sincere by then, but still. It's worth pointing out that it feels a bit icky.

Sammy is an interesting case because the show never acknowledges her boundary pushing with Yaz as something that's bad. In fact it's seen more as a good thing because it "pays off" and even Yaz is grateful for it in hindsight. I do hate how Yaz's development is credited all to Sammy. Feels like an unhealthy over reliance on a single friendship turned relationship, which yeah can happen irl but an episode exploring that would've been great. Let Yaz realise she needs more than one solid relationship (platonic included) to be truly emotionally fulfilled.

Fact is they're all teens with shitty teen behaviours made worse by a shitty survival situation. And that's cool, if the show was intended for a slightly older audience then maybe they could've delved way more into that. They can do shitty things and get called out on it and grow from it. But because the target is much younger kids then it's all just brushed off or treated as not so serious.

If they did go for a more mature and realistic representation of teen dynamics then we probably would've got more love triangles and break ups and relationship drama and idk I'd rather just have more dinosaurs

TLDR: you're not wrong

#jurassic world camp cretaceous #jwcc #camp cretaceous #jwcc confessions #yasammy #Kenlynn #No hate just facts #Not actually hating on these ships #But underdeveloped writing

[strideofpride]

“I personally headcanon, and I think there's enough to go off in canon to support it, that Dan was closer to Alison than Rufus before she left.” Okay I love this take and it makes me sooo curious what the Humphrey family dynamic was actually like before Alison left and Dan stepped into a more parental role with Jenny!! The only Humphrey childhood anecdotes I can specifically remember are the one from 1x06 where Jenny tells Serena the story about 5 year old Dan being terrified of the Ice Capades, and the one from 1x15 that Rufus initially misremembers:

Rufus Humphrey:
[to Jenny] You used to cry when I didn't walk you to school.

Jenny Humphrey:
That wasn't me. That was Dan.

Dan Humphrey:
I was six. It was a very emotional time for me, post T-ball.

And the subtext of the 1x15 bit stands out to me, because in the show’s present it’s obviously Dan who’s afforded all of the autonomy and treated more like an equal by Rufus while Jenny’s just a kid in need of protection, yet in these few glimpses we’re given of the past Jenny’s the one who seems to have been the more independent and self-reliant kid, while Dan comes across as having been a lot more sensitive and delicate when he was a child.

I’m curious what the early/middle childhood sibling relationship was actually like between Dan and Jenny - were they parented more equally back then and did they therefore have a more equal relationship, or was Jenny always treated as the more problematic of the two? Were Rufus and Jenny ever afforded the easier going, buddy-buddyish type of bond that Dan and Rufus have when Alison was around to be The Mom™️, and is that why Rufus kind of sucks as a disciplinarian in the present even though he’s otherwise a decent dad? Or did Rufus and Dan only develop that type of relationship as a direct consequence of Alison’s departure? And at what point did Alison become so fed up with her marriage and her life that she decided moving away and giving up primary custody of her kids was the best thing for everyone, and how long did that tension simmer beneath the surface?

I've kind of always assumed that Alison was doing the bulk of the child rearing. I don't think Rufus was an absent father, but I do think it was the traditional gender role stuff of Rufus focuses on keeping the family afloat by running the gallery while Alison stays home with the kids. So when Alison leaves, Rufus has to become a lot more involved with the day-to-day of raising children than he ever was before.

With what I know of sibling dynamics, I kinda feel like Dan being the sensitive, needy one kinda pushed Jenny into being the more self-reliant one. Like all kids are sensitive and needy but the way they express it is formed by the dynamics of their home. But because Dan was the older one, he did mature first, and you know, being an eldest sibling myself, your parents do start to rely on you at a certain point to help with your younger sibling, which clearly is what happened with Dan.

I think Jenny probably only really became the "problematic" child when she started at Constance immediately prior to season 1. I think a lot of Rufus, Dan, and Alison's reactions to Jenny that season imply that they're not used to her acting like this/that they're seeing a new side to her. Which makes sense if this is Jenny's first year in the prep school system and the Humphrey sibs went to public school K-8.

Rufus does a lot of the typical dad double standard stuff when parenting his son vs his daughter, which makes me think that even though Dan and Rufus weren't as close before Alison left, they could still be buddy-buddy in a father-son way. While with Jenny, I could see her being a daddy's girl when she was younger, but her father didn't look at her like a "buddy" in the same way he did his son, if that makes sense? But like I said, I think Dan and Rufus truly became more like peers when Alison left and Dan stepped up into a parental role.

And then as for Alison...I mean, she gave up her artistic dreams to be a mom. Rufus at least had the gallery to go to during the day, while she was at home with the kids. I think she has a line somewhere about how her entire adult life has been about Rufus, so it sounds like it's the very typical thing that happens in a marriage where the woman kinda ends up giving up her identity to focus on being a wife and a mother and then she wakes up one day and doesn't know who she is anymore. I imagine it's the kind of thing that's "slowly, then all at once" where she slowly loses herself and becomes unhappier as the years go on and then she woke up one day in the spring of 2007 and said "that's it, I'm done" and decided then and there to leave for Hudson for the summer.

And part of me really gets it and another part of me really doesn't, because how could you just give up having custody of your kids like that? Like Rufus and Alison never seem to have a custody battle, my guess is that they have nothing in writing, Rufus has no qualms about her staying in the loft with the kids while he's on tour in between seasons 1 and 2, and it's initially his idea to send Jenny to Alison at the end of season 3. So it's fully her choice to stay in Hudson and rarely visit. Which I know is just cause of how TV production works, but in universe...yeah I don't really fully know how she was able to just...go months and months without seeing her kids like that. Especially because she seems very maternal when we do see her with them. Idk. In my Alison fic, I decided that it's because while she felt strongly she had to be in Hudson, she had moved around a lot herself when she was a kid and didn't want to uproot her own kids like that.

But yeah, the show never really takes the time to explore why she went all the way up to Hudson, instead of just getting her own place in the city, or write throwaway lines about her calling or visiting beyond season 1 so it's all just up to your own interpretation.

#the humphreys #gossip girl #rufus humphrey #alison humphrey #dan humphrey #jenny humphrey #gg meta #anonymous #strideofprideanswers

[spacenintendogs]

whats your modern au all about :D

ough!! i'm gonna kinda copy & paste a lot bc i was infodumping to @artinandwritin last night & didn't realize how much i'd talked abt!!! but!!! this is more the plot that parallels the first movie!!! bc if i kept talking abt it beyond that it'd get super long 😭 (longer than it already is)

for my au, the dragons are obv a thing & are more large dog sized than giagantic beasts but i think there'd be more of a conservationist push to it. the sanctuary already exists & valka is more like hiccup's mom in the books where she's absent for long periods due to traveling for work (dragon conservation) & hiccup is indoctrinated to it at a young age

so when he's 15 & meets toothless he already knows dragons are good & cool. it's the establishment of trust between him & toothless that stays the same as toothless is harmed by hiccup still, on accident but also not(?), in that they have traps set up for dragons for tracking purposes but hiccup sets his up wrong

so toothless loses his tail & while it leans more into hiccup making the automatically working tail like in gift of the night fury & httyd 3, he's still very present & active in toothless' learning of how to use it & their bond is SUPER strong (bestieeees)

obv with valka being so absent, stoick struggles with maintaining a relationship with her & bc hiccup looks up to her so much, they also have communication issues bc while stoick in my au doesn't see dragons as evil that *need* to be killed since they're relatively common animals, but he sees a danger in caring for them as well as seeing valka's more extreme version of conservation to be detrimental to having human connection

he also is just very Dad™️ in not having the same interests & struggles to connect, so he's harsher than he should be sometimes when it comes to hiccup & toothless

hiccup losing his leg is still caused by the red death, as it's a gigantic dragon thought to have long since gone extinct

hiccup lowkey has been keeping toothless a secret to this point bc if it got out he might have the potential last night fury, he'd get a lot of media coverage & he's afraid he'd be forced to give toothless up :(

but at the core of it all it's abt spreading education abt dragons as they are endangered & hiccup makes that his mission & takes over the conservatory (with stoick paying the bills until hiccup can do it on his own lmao)!! they go around locally & do "shows" to help spread the word & get younger kids into conservation work!!!!

the poacher & hunter issues come later but this is the basic gist that sets up the entire au & is the big initial plot!! all while hiccup is dealing with being a loner & missing his mom & wishing he could connect with his dad (two out of three of these are generally resolved/being worked on to success :))

#httyd #hiccup haddock #toothless #stoick the vast #those 3 are most integral rn so!!!!!! #httyd headcanons #httyd modern au #rose answers #shutupthepunx111 #THANK U!!!! #dragons off the coast au

[transingthoseformers]

You should make some kind of starter kit or guide to writing MegOp cause I have a MegOp fic idea but have no idea how to approach their relationship it seems so daunting. Like I'm scared I'm gonna get it wrong somehow- (this isn't a request or anything you're not obligated to actually do this just to clarify)

I suppose it depends a lot on continuity (how much do they have in common, do they have previous history?) on how it affects it, but it's this sort of push and pull dynamic.

I actually don't really know how to describe it because I accidentally-ed my way into Megop being my main pairing

I've seen video essays and posts before talking a lot about homoerotic nemeses being a ✨thing✨ in other fandoms but I think it applies well here. We know in canon there's often this sense of obsession, whether it's one sided or mutual, with the enemy and for me it doesn't take much to twist it into a salacious dynamic.

It's the good guy with a soft spot in his bleeding heart for the bad guy.

It's the bad guy with a soft spot in his hardened heart for the good guy.

It's the hero of the story saying they want to be better™️ than the villain by not killing him, but it's truly because they can't stand to think of a world without them.

It's the villain of the story letting the hero go again and again because they want to brag they want to challenge they want to needle at the hero to get a reaction.

I love the whole idea of "fall in love on the battlefield behind the blade"

If you're dealing with a situation where they did know each other before the war, you get the juicy friends -> enemies -> lovers or often lovers -> enemies -> lovers again, a favorite of mine for tfp Megop. Love twisted into something ugly and that something ugly twisting into love again

Or both! It being complicated enemies with benefits or enemies and lovers!

I'm still here for aus where they were/are always on the same side or no-war too! I just love these two, no matter which ways they fit together or which bodies they fit together in

#maccadam #transformers #idk if this is useful or just me gushing about megop #megop #Megatron #Optimus prime #after all #they're two of the most popular characters in Transformers #in the beginning they basically represented good™️ and bad™️ and this has grown more complex over the decades #I'm so fucking here for homoerotic nemeses it's insane

[rom-e-o]

Not long after starting the lounge singing (so before the Twins), Bess is wooed into going out with a cute, funny, seemingly sweet bartender that often works through her sets. The first date goes so well, Bess lets him kiss her goodnight when he drops her home: It's a little forward, tongue and significant moisture are felt a little earlier than Bess would normally want, but he doesn't push for more and is charming. Besides, Bess only ever kissed Oliver before and he was a Terrible Kisser™️. So maybe this is what kissing is actually supposed to be like?

Over the course of two months, they go out on various dates. The guy's persona never slips; he is always nice, courteous, gentle, etc. He is a bit more forward with where he likes to put his hands and kiss her despite how they claim to not be exclusive just yet and are just testing the waters, but he doesn't pressure her for sex. He never picks up on how she prefers live flowers to cut ones and dark chocolate to milk, but nobody is perfect. And this all feels nice and fun. Bess does think she might be falling for him a bit , though.

Then, one afternoon, Bess comes home after meeting him for lunch. She looks... it's hard to say--dazed? There are a lot of emotions in those eyes.

It's just her and Connie in the house at that time, and Bess asks to talk. Turns out, at lunch, Bess and Mr. Bartender had the discussion about where this all was going. They like each other. A lot. He'd really like to be her boyfriend. Bess admitted she'd really like to be his girlfriend. There's only one snag: Their relationship would have to be an open one to work for him. He's already been seeing other girls on the side with various levels of exclusivity while dating her. He already has a couple girlfriends. They're all actually poly together, but Bess wouldn't have to be if that's not her thing (it's not). "I just have so much love to give, Angel!" is his excuse. "Too much for any one girl to handle by herself."

Bess' romantic dream her entire life has been to be someone's One and Only™️. She wants to be enough for someone--just her. That only got stronger after Oliver. But this guy has been the closest thing to a dream relationship she's ever had: He's been nothing but sweet, caring, and a gentleman. The idea of an open relationship makes Bess sick to her stomach and makes her feel inadequate (and just is not her thing), but she wants love. She wants romance. And she's already a little more wrapped up in Mr. Bartender than she'd want or care to admit. "Should I do this, Connie? It feels so... wrong. Skeavy. Like an excuse for him to two-time me. I think about it and it hurts and I just wanna cry. But what if this is the only chance at real love I'm ever gonna get? What if I'm just not made to be enough for someone?Maybe I'm just not that lovable enough and all I can be is... one of a number." Tears are definitely trickling down Bess' cheeks.

Oughhhh, that’s rough. The “he’s so nice, BUT” scenario. But he’s not so nice. He misled her and is using an excuse, it sounds like, to date multiple ladies. It sucks and is heartbreaking.

Constance noticing Bess seems off, and as they talk. Connie listens for a long, LONG time. There’s lots of hugs, tissues and a bottle of gin is definitely opened.

After Bess has said everything and poured those emotions out, Connie brings her close and tight for a hug.

Connie isn’t poly, but she’s definitely acquainted with poly couples from back in NYC. She knows they have a healthy and loving dynamic, but it’s healthy because everyone in the poly relationship WANTS a poly relationship. They’re open about what their needs and wants are …they’re not leading people on like this guy arguably did to Bess.

Besides, his EXCUSE for wanting that type of relationship is …interesting. I wonder how he’d feel about his girls having multiple boyfriends, haha? PROBABLY not as enthusiastic as he lets on.

“You’re not in the wrong for wanting one partner to love you, Bess,” she explains softly. “To be their …’endgame’ is what kids are saying nowadays, right? Anyway, it’s like any other preference … he should have disclosed that sooner, honestly. Sounds like he was playing games and just hoped you’d roll with it. I’m proud of you for sticking up for yourself.”

She runs slow circles into her back, just focusing on making Bess comfortable.

“The answer is no. You shouldn’t do it. Because you obviously don’t want this. There would be nothing but more heartache down the line, which is not what you deserve. He was too forward, and he was misleading. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Another squeeze.

“What you do deserve is exactly what you want: one partner that loves you. This isn’t your only chance. Men are attracted to you, Bess. You are beautiful and a catch … that also means you’re gonna have duds like this guy try to woo you.

“I say dump him. Kindly, but in public, where he can’t squirrel his way back in without sounding like an ass to everyone else around. Don’t let him be a blockade to your true happiness. You deserve better, and you have a soulmate that’s waiting out there for you! Don’t settle.”

#Scroogeverse