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the-final-sif · 4 months

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Dream's Response Summary

Dream posted a response to various accusations, covering just about everything ever because he was done with this shit. I've done my best to summarize it here, but I recommend going and watching his whole video. This is going to be extremely summarized for readability and I'm only going to cover stuff I consider serious so anything about speedrunning is getting skipped.

The tl:dr is: Dream never groomed anyone or had inappropriate contact with anyone underage, he provided proof that one accuser flat out lied, and the other ""accusation"" was from a third party who was never involved. The actual supposed victim released a statement that they were never groomed, nor a victim in any way, never was asked about someone sharing information about them, and wants everyone to shut the fuck up.

Police were never actually contacted, both twitter accounts were lying about doing so to make their claims seem real. Also the supposed snapchat video shown is a very obvious fake.

He covers Manatreed, the run down is the guy was a childhood best friend he grew up with and who was struggling with homelessness. Dream helped him, and never knew about the battery charge (Manatreed had lied to him about it). When Dream spoke to Manatreed's ex girlfriend, she was very clear she never wanted any of this publicly out there, that she was happy that Dream had been helping Manatreed and she wanted the best for him.

Dream still doesn't know exactly what happened with that situation, he has since lost contract with Manatreed, all he knows is he was trying to help a childhood friend and got lied to.

The first allegation from Oxy/Anastasia, he's extremely clear they only ever messaged in twitter dms and he disproves the claim about the texts/tik tok. He has a google voice number hooked up to his tik tok account for obvious reasons, and she was showing imessage texts. This is not possible, which means she was lying.

As part of this, Dream scrolls through his twitter dms and shows he responds to fans all the time and talks to people in his community from all over. He also shows how he's friends with and has hired people that were fans of his, including people like Foolish.

He discusses Amanda, the two of them messaged on instagram back when he was a much smaller creator. He showed/posted the transcript of the two of them talking about normal stuff. They had been messaging since 2020. He did attempt to post a complete transcript of those messages, but she had deleted some of her messages and he doesn't have a way to recover them.

Dream explains that Instagram has a "feature" where if you ever reply to someone, then you literally cannot remove their ability to message you without blocking them. Something I did not know about instagram and which is fucking wild.

Since he replied to her in 2020, that meant she could message him forever and her notifications would be constantly showing up for him. He attempted to delete her messages/her ability to message him back in 2021 and showed proof of this, but realized he couldn't. Dream also in doing so accidentally deleted the context to her messages that she was a fan and basically everything prior to 2021.

Since he didn't remember her (what with the prior messages deleted), she was dmnig him from her personal account without fan content on it and was talking about being a streamer, he assumed she was a smaller streamer he knew and was talking to her as such.

They were talking about music so he gave her his personal snapchat to talk and because he wanted to get some feedback on a new song he was working on. He wanted to send the song via snapchat so he could be reasonably sure it'd stay private.

Dream categorically denies any sexting with Amanda or sexual messaging at all, he goes through why she most likely did this (he had been ignoring her messages and made a new snapchat with only close friends). He also downloaded his own data (something Amanda refused to/failed to do), went through the snapchat logs and did see some messages, but never saw either of his supposed compliments to her.

Amanda claimed Dream deleted her dms and that's why she couldn't provide any of the evidence she claimed she had, but Dream showed those same DMs very clearly undeleted. The dms were never deleted and she lied as an excuse.

Amanda lied about going to the police. Dream had his lawyers file a bunch of requests, and track down the police station that she went to based on the photo. They filed every request possible for any information with this police station, and there was no record of Amanda visiting the station or any records relating to Dream whatsoever. So either she lied about filing anything, or she told a story such that the police filed literally no paperwork whatsoever about the situation. Not even a report.

Dream sent the police station a copy of his own drivers license and Amanda's information so they could contact him if anything did come up, and nothing ever did. Nothing was filed, nobody cared.

Dream got swatted several times as a result of online harassment, including his family, and the harassment was overwhelming and awful for him.

He addresses the gumball situation, he showed up to a birthday party for a friend, gumball's VA was there and kept getting aggressive with him. While on facetime with some friends, Cantu ended up hitting Dream to impress them. Dream was obviously put off by this, but at the end of the night people ended up ubering together and Dream ended up in an uber with Cantu. He thought it'd be fine since other people were involved.

Cantu dropped his phone out the window made the uber driver pull over to look for it and got in trouble with the police. The uber driver tried to talk to Cantu about handling the police in the future, and Cantu started calling the uber driver slurs and claiming the uber driver had "down syndrome".

Dream got involved, trying to defend the uber driver, and Cantu threatened to kill him and called him slurs. Later Cantu apologized and Dream wanted to forgive him. Only later, Cantu started spreading lies about him and calling him a pedophile, so Dream realized the apology wasn't sincere and called him out for his behavior.

The third party who had been filming all of this saw what Cantu was doing lying about Dream and trying to claim none of this happened. They reached out to Dream and gave him the actual video as proof of what happened. Cantu tried to threaten them out of sending Dream the video of what happened, but they ignored him and sent them anyways. Dream also had the uber driver in his video backing up what he said.

Finally, the Jamie Allegations

Jamie is a mutual friend of several people that Dream knew, she did not post the allegations, she was never contacted about any of this she made an explicit statement that she was never groomed or a victim in any way.

Dream and Jamie meet prior to Dream being a youtuber on bbh's minecraft server, they were both fans of Skeppy. Which is why Jamie was followed by Dream, Skeppy, Vurb and some other youtubers in their friend group.

Jamie is still active online and put out her own statement, the person in the screenshots never gave permission for any of this to be put out, and they are very clear that the messages were taken out of context and that the claims made are false. The person in the screens is clear Dream is not a groomer, they never accused him of that, and that the twitter account is lying.

The snapchat video shown is very obviously fake, because snapchat just magically opens itself, there's no finger or button use interacting with the screen.

The burner account never actually contacted the police, Dream records him calling to the department they claimed to contact, and the person answering is very clear they have no contact from this person.

The supposed recent document posted is a fake convo of someone using a fake twitter account to talk to "Jamie", Jamie did not talk to them and it's just fake.

All of this was incredibly damaging for Jamie, who had no idea what was going on, and was getting harassed/stalked/having her irls contact.

Dream has also faced waves of harassment over obviously fake allegations, people have just been taking them at face value. He also shows how easy it is to fake these things as I have done.

He's been swatted, harassed, his family has been swatted and harassed, he's been scared for his own safety several times. It's been awful for him, and all based on fake shit. He's not stepping back from minecraft, but he is stepping back from twitter and no longer engaging with people behaving this way.

Also his ping pong record was undefeated.

#sif speaks #dreamwastaken #dream smp #dream #grooming mention #stalking mention #gumball #nicholas cantu #discourse #video summary #abuse mention

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blackphanto · 3 months

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Trying to overanalyze Lucifer's design

The Hazbin Hotel season 1 finale was fucking insane. I loved everything and especially Lucifer, whom I am dedicating this post to.

Let's begin with his "normal" form

Lucifer wears a ringleader costume bc Hell is one giant circus and he's the ringleader, but did you know that there's actually more to it?

A ringmaster, -mistress or -leader is like the opening act of a circus. They show you around, introduce the other acts and keep you hooked. They are essentially the glue that keeps the circus together. Another definition of a ringmaster, -mistress or -leader talks about an actual leader who leads a group of people, mostly through the act of doing illicit or unlawful activities. A role that would suit Lilith better than Lucifer. Sins could be seen as unlawful activities in Heaven's eyes and Lucifer is the cause of how evil found its way to earth, one could say that he was the one to lead the sinners in their sinful behavior in life. Yet, in death - if we go by Charlie's storybook - Lilith was the one leading the sinners to rise up against Heaven, another illicit activity that has led to their eventual doom.

Luci also wears a top hat with his crown on top of it. The hat gives him some extra height so I doubt that he wears it for any other reason. His crown is mostly covered with a snake and a red apple on the side. The snake can have 2 meanings: 1) how the word 'seraphim' in Hebrew can be translated to 'fiery serpent', due to his six wings, Lucifer is likely a seraph. 2) he was the serpent that tempted Eve, although never confirmed in any religious text, this idea of him being that snake is really popular in every reiteration of that story. This would also be why there's an apple motive following the Morningstars. Now let's move on to...

Angelic/demonic form

I don't think what we are seeing here is his full angelic/demonic form, but considering that the other Princes' forms aren't as scary either it is likely the case. The first thing that caught my attention were the horns and overall resemblance this form has to Charlie's, but let's focus on the differences.

In the first image, the snake and apple have turned into some sort of halo, a nod that his actual halo has disappeared when he fell and unlike Vaggie his wings probably didn't get ripped off, but I do believe they were different to how they were when he was behind the Pearly Gates. He has a tail and horns, classic demon imagery, there are 6 eyes at the end of his coat and there's one more on his bowtie, which makes a total of 8 eyes on Lucifer's design. The eyes are a common returning motive in Heaven and with angels.Luci also has a flame in-between his horns. This honestly reminded me of Baphomet, but they would likely be a Candle head from the Sloth ring. In the Bible, fire is often depicted as the presence of God, but I'm a firm believer that Hazbin has a deistic God view (see my other post), so I doubt that's the case here. The fire was likely chosen because Hell is associated with fire and he's the king of Hell so they thought it would make sense.

Like father, like daughter

As stated before, Lucifer and Charlie share a lot of similar elements. She's essentially him without wings and with longer hair. They both have a red sclera with a yellow iris. Their tail is pitch black with a heart cut out at the end and despite having white skin, Lucifer's arms are greyish. I always thought they were gloves, but no, man's face doesn't match his hands. I really like this shot of them right here, they look so badass!

Charlie also seems to be getting a new ability which has to do with her arm getting bigger and blocking Adam. This might be a callback to whatever was going on with her arm in her first design.

That was it thanks for reading <3

#hazbin hotel #a24 #vivziepop #lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #prime video #hazbin hotel season 1 #hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin theory

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

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AITA for snapping and scaring a kid?

Okay first, some background, I (F20) am a sorta bnf in a fandom I write and draw for and I am a group of roughly 10 other kinda bnfs who do the same and are all 20+.

We all reblog from each other and support each other, and one unique thing we also do is block minors who are open about being minors that we see anywhere and/or that interact with us.

We DM each other their usernames to weed them out of circle even though all of accounts are PG and do not have and dnis or warnings that minors will be blocked. We don't let anyone know we do this, make no posts about it, no warnings, they just get blocked without any exchange.

There's a few reasons why we do this:

to encourage kids to not let their age be publicly know.

to make sure kids are not getting normalized to interacting with strange adults online

kids, to put it kindly, are fucking lame once you become a certain age through no fault of their own. There's nothing in common after a while. They don't understand adult life and can't relate in the same way another adult can, and this is just no good reason for an unrelated strange adult online to let a kid interact with them that's sketchy and weird as shit

I grew up lurking and with strict internet safety lessons. Nowadays, kids seem to not know how to lurk and basic internet safety anymore. I've tried to make post upon post warning them of the dangers of putting personal information, especially their age, online, but it's done nothing to make the minors interacting to act more safely.

But me and my friend group have found that the only way to get kids to lurk and not put their age online like they should is if they get loose access the things they want because of their age is public.

So many of the kids who follow me have been blocked and they realized why they're getting blocked and came back on a much safer lurker account. I know I'm not the asshole for doing this and encouraging others to do this because ultimately it keeps the kid safer.

What I do think I may be the asshole is when one kid in particular, I'll call him X, spent months testing me to figure out and confirm that I was blocking minors who are open about their age and then spent weeks after that threatening to call me out and accused me of being agist, a pedophile because why am I so scared to interact with kids, and lying about being cis-queer because queers wouldn't discriminate like this.

At first he was was just the usual kiddo with his age in his bio, so I blocked him, and while I didn't notice it at first, he kept making more accounts with his age in the bio and following me. I caught on when I was curious about why do many 14 years olds were following me in a row because normally is varied from around 10 to 17, and I noticed similarities across the account and realized it was one kid desperately trying to following me.

I figured I just keep blocking until he figured out how to keep his age offline, and it seemed to work when I got followed by an identical account with the age missing from any posts and the bio. I let him keep following, not interacting because he's 14 and that'd be fucking weird, but then a week into following me on this new ageless account I got a DM.

It was full of screenshots of me blocking him on he openly a minor accounts and then him just accusing of what I said above. I blocked, not caring to respond to a 14 year old, but he keep making burners to DM more and more accusation.

I just kept blocking without responding, not wanting to waste my time, but then he treatened to call me out for being all those things. I've seen first hand how life ruining those accusation and false callouts can be, how people see those accusations and do no research and let their instinctual disgust and fear of those people drive the accused to going offline or even committing suicide.

I did not want this, and the fact that this may become a possibility due to a kid who just couldn't accept not everyone wants known minors following them, made me super pissed off.

And so to "scare him straight" and to prevent him from making this callout post, I photoshopped screenshots of both a police and cyperbulling report being submitted and police thanking me for reporting this and how they'll check it out.

At the time, still being super angry, it was very satisfying to see him come apologizing, saying he'll stop stalking me, and asking for me to tell the police and cyberbulling that it was a fake report and that it's been handled.

I didn't bother responding and just blocked him, and this time, he didn't make another burner. In fact, he deleted all his accounts.

A few months have past, and now that my anger has melted into annoyance, and that annoyance into realization I may have went too far.

X, while annoying, and could have really hurt me with a fake callout, is at the end of the day, 14, still a little kid.

X probably just didn't know better and I could have just tried to talk to him and reason rather then scaring him. I feel especially bad because if he was a POC and/or an abuse victim still living with his abusers he may have and possibility still be fearing for his life. Also it made me look like a bootlicker and I would kill myself before I ever support a cop

So I'm wondering now if I may have been the asshole here for snapping and scaring a kid

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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chigirizzz · 10 months

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ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK — I. SAE

warnings/tags: angst, hurt/a little bit of comfort, gn! reader, descriptions of physical symptoms of anxiety, ooc sae??, not proofread

summary: love is confusing. a part of you knows sae loved you; another part of you makes you question that. if both parts can't coexist, was your relationship worth fighting for?

wc: 2.3k

notes: this one was difficult to write man. i literally rewrote almost every paragraph dozens of times until i thought this entire thing was worth of being posted. while writing this i was literally biting my own fist out of frustration lmao.

»»——⍟——««

being a professional football player for sure brings a lot of things in your life: fame, money, awards, fans, haters, sponsors, you name it. but one thing that no one ever seems to talk about is the painful feeling inside someone’s entire body when under the extreme pressure—the shortness of breath, the rapid beating of the heart, the big knot on the throat, the tightening of the stomach, the burning sensation in the eyes due to increased blood circulation, and so on.

sae was used to those feelings. it was part of his life as an athlete—it was part of his life ever since he was a young boy, like when he had to get ready to leave his home country to live in another one, practically alone, without his family. for days, young itoshi sae felt in panic, nauseous and was disturbed by severe headaches.

it’s funny how emotions can make you physically sick, right?

of course, anyone can feel like this—it's completely normal and it’s what makes us humans. for a singer, those symptoms of sickness might happen mostly on the stage; for a baker, those nerves might happen mostly when getting ready the perfect wedding cake; for a writer, that anxiety might happen mostly when publishing a book, afraid of what people will think of it and if it will sell well.

for football players, those sensations are, most of the time, absorbed by their bodies and minds the moment they step on the field.

sae falls into this category.

then, at the end of the day, people can still live through situations that make them feel anxious outside of their professions—perhaps they have to get ready for a date; perhaps they got lost and can't find the right path to go home.

sae does not fall into this category. he is a rational man who avoids people and feelings not related to his career. he always knows what to do and what not to do.

but today, today is different. today sae itoshi is in the second category, and he might be stuck in there for a while, who knows.

sitting on the edge of the bed you both share, he inhales deeply as his hands make their way to grab said edges. the soft material of the bedspread under his fingers helped him cool down a little bit. so soft ♡. he exhaled after holding his breath for a few seconds.

he could hear your sobs.

you were sitting on the comfy sofa placed in the small, elegant balcony connected to your shared bedroom. although the curtains were blocking the outside view, the chilly, cold wind of the night would constantly move the brownish pink curtains to give the man the perfect—and heartbroken—sight of your figure in a curled up position, crying, with no sign of stopping so soon.

(brownish pink curtains… you wanted to buy those because it reminded you of sae's hair. of your boyfriend's hair. he could still hear your laugh when you suggested buying those.)

you too were in a psychological and physical distress; you too were in the second category—the difference, however, was that you have been in that same category for a while; meanwhile sae has only entered it today.

sae didn’t like the feeling of his sunken heart, of the big knot on his throat and of the tightening of his stomach’s walls when looking at you so miserable like that. and the worst part? he was the reason you were in that state.

in case you didn't understand yet, my dear reader, itoshi sae broke your heart once again and now your relationship is at a great risk of ending. by saying that sae has officially entered the "second category", we get the idea that said man is now anxious, scared, and physically sick with the thought of losing you—the anxiety that he only felt on the field and never in his personal life? he's feeling it right now.

and it’s only now that he understands how much he disappointed you ever since you two started dating. he remembers it all now: how he didn’t show any interest in your thoughts and hobbies (which is not true, he was just devoid of emotions but it still hurt you), how cold his responses could get, how he never denied that his career was the number one priority, the dry messages he sent you when you were excited, how mean he could be to other people even if you’d tell him how much you hated that attitude of his, how he would just gave you a gift after a fight instead of properly apologizing, how he stood up on you several times on a restaurant, all ready for him to arrive for your date, only to not appear because he preferred to stay late at practice and ended up forgetting the plans you both made…

the true—although not surprising at all—is, the oldest itoshi wasn’t good with feelings; he knew what to do and what not to do during matches, but when it came to human beings, he didn’t have an idea of what he should do or what to say—and let’s be honest, he didn't care about it either. sae did love you, though. the way he looks at you proves it; the marks he would leave on your body during nights so full of lust and romance that would be capable of shedding emotional tears from aphrodite’s eyes proved it; the way he'd roll his eyes and proceed to place soft kisses on your fingers when you complained of the water being too hot after finishing washing the dishes proved it.

the engagement ring he bought for you that is hidden in a safe place where you couldn’t find it proved it.

and now there might not be a day where he could put the ring around your finger and watch you giggle like a teenager in love.

his heart weighs heavier now, almost like it’s getting ready to be swallowed by the black hole formed on his stomach. fuck. he passes his hand through his reddish brown hair, tugging a few strands.

he got out of the bed and made his way to the door of the small balcony. there you were, still in a curled up position. your sobs have stopped already but a sniff or two could be heard.

“talk to me.” the genius didn’t know exactly what his tone was. tiredness? begging? regret? i-don’t-care-at-all-stop-acting-like-this? this man sure was confusing. there was no response, the only thing that could be heard were the sounds of the leaves of the trees moving with the wind, almost mocking, not sae, but you.

the way you rolled your eyes was unknown to him.

“seriously, y/n. head inside so we can talk—”

“fuck you, itoshi, leave me alone.” your intention wasn’t to be mean to him, you didn't think before speaking—it hurt both you and him—, but sometimes harsh words were better in specific times. this is a specific time, you should have shared your thoughts a long time ago. “you wanna talk now? you usually just buy me roses without saying anything.”

“i’m trying to fix things up.”

you turned your head to look at him, a sad smile on your lips. “and i appreciate it, really, but i’m just so fucking tired, sae.” your voice broke on the word “tired”. “and you just want to talk now because i said i was thinking of breaking up with you during our fight earlier? why, sae, why…” more tears were threatening to fall, voice still breaking.

teal colored eyes darkened. you were now looking at the view in front of you. you guys lived in a really peaceful neighborhood with big, expensive houses. the view was nothing special (a few trees, a few parked cars, a park near you), but it wasn't bad either. it's not like the view mattered as long as you lived with the love of your life.

even if said love of your life could sometimes be difficult to put up with.

you remember when you started dating him and met his younger brother, who had the audacity to say with a serious face that you would regret dating your boyfriend. although you now understand the point rin was trying to make, you didn't regret being with sae; you didn't regret anything at all. and if you were to be honest, you wanted to ignore the fight and just spend the night watching a movie or something, but you had to act like a mature adult and find a better solution.

were you, though, being a mature adult by giving that response to sae when he said he wanted to talk? you were genuinely confused.

sighting and while wiping your tears, you patted the uncopied place of the sofa beside you. "ok, let's talk. sit." the man did what you told and you moved away a few centimeters to give him more space. it was… silence. a mix of comfortable and uncomfortable silence.

without looking at you, sae rested his hand on top of yours, causing you to flinch a little by surprise, but paid no mind and let him interlock his fingers with yours, your thumb now caressing his pinky finger.

"what… what do you want to say?"

"were you telling the truth earlier?"

"about me breaking up with you?" a "mhm" was his answer. "yes, i was ." by the corner of your eye you noticed he stared at you after those words. your mind couldn't decipher what his thoughts were. "i don't like being stood up on a date two times in the same month, y'know?"

the man sighted. "i was busy with practice. and i literally warned you at a good time, you just got to the place too early."

you let out a chuckle in an ironic way. "you did warn me, yes, and i wouldn't mind if it was once or twice, but enough is enough, itoshi." it was the second time of the night—scratch that, it was the second time in your entire life that you called him by his surname. even when you were only friends, you would call him by his first name or by cute, silly nicknames. the second time the word itoshi came out of your mouth, it was full of venom; venom that seemed to wrap so tightly around his heart. "i know your career is extremely important to you. i understand that and i want to support you in any way, shape and form, however, things can't keep going like this."

"i see." the reddish brown haired man looked at both your hands still together. you didn't let go of him, you didn't want to and he didn't want it either. “i understand.”

he should say something more. something more profound, more romantic, capable of making you stay, but what can the prodigy do about it? sure, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want you to stay with him, but the decision was yours and he had to take it, whether he liked it or not; whether it’d left him heartbroken or not. besides, he now understands just how much he confused you with his true feelings. you both were tired of the constant kiss and make up.

just how sae could be an egoistic on the field, he could be also one on his private life (just ask literally anybody and they will confirm).

you let go of his fingers to turn your arm so that your palm was facing upwards, in contact with his, and you interlock your fingers again. “it’s not easy for me but… i feel like it’s the best choice.”

you spent a few seconds looking into each other's eyes, until sae leaned his forehead against yours and you did the same, with your eyes closed and enjoying the cold night breeze hitting your bodies, the breeze contrasting with the bittersweet heat formed in your hearts.

“so… is it decided…”

“yes… it is.” you were glad that he respected your decision and that you discussed the matter without further discussion. “i’ll still pack my things today. in the morning i’ll call a friend and ask them to stay at their house for a few days. then i’ll see how it goes.”

“hm.”

he offered to help you pack your bags, but you refused—him helping you would only make you more emotional and rethink your decision. that night, you and your now ex-boyfriend slept on the same bed, back to back.

»»——⍟——««

"hey,” it was now the next morning and you had just gotten ready to leave the house. sae called you before you had a chance to get out the door. “do not hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

a smile formed on your lips. now that you were changing your path in life, it seemed that you just lost a heavy weight on your shoulders. sae didn't like that, but again, he was in no position to make you stay. “ thank you sae, really. the same goes for you, though. and don’t overwork yourself.”

those words and the little chuckle that followed hurt sae like a bitch. you always told him to not work himself till exhaustion, yet he always ignored you…

“well… goodbye, itoshi.” before he’d answer, you stepped out of the door, closing it behind you.

as the sound of the engine of your friend’s car starting up reached his ears, he made his way to the bedroom, to reach out for the engagement ring he bought for you. he layed on the bed, hugging the tiny ring’s box, hot tears running silently down his cheeks to the pillow.

you were gone. you were officially gone.

»»——⍟——««

tagging: @izzylovestnbhd

thank you for reading. likes, reblogs and coments are appreciated ♡

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock angst #bllk angst #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae angst #blue lock x you

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

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Graduation

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~6.3k

Summary: You go to your graduation party without Wanda

A/N: This is a slightly angsty, but mostly smutty little thing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Some angst, a lot of smut. 18+ only! I’m starting to block ageless blogs who reblog/like these posts AND follow me, FYI. So please add your age to your bio!

“Why are you being so stubborn about this? It’s not that big of a deal!”

You and Wanda rarely fight, and when you do it’s merely bickering that normally ends in compromise. It’s rare that you or Wanda do something to truly anger the other. This is why you’re a little stunned about your wife’s insistence at trying to keep you from going to this party tonight. It’s your graduation party and you want to celebrate finishing vet school, but Wanda is dead set against you going for some reason.

You have already tried to get her to come with you, but she has business to attend to later that will likely take most of the night. You’re not thrilled about that, but apparently pointing this out is not how you’re going to win this argument because Wanda just rolls her eyes at you.

“It’s not even close to the same thing, Y/n. This is work, you’re going to hang out with a bunch of drunk people!”

You can’t help but glare at her for this because not only is she being ridiculous, but she’s starting to get on your nerves. You’re not sure why she’s so set against this, but you can’t help but think it’s because she doesn’t trust you enough to go on your own.

“Work, work, work. For all I know you could be hanging out with a bunch of drunk people! At least you know where I’ll be and who I’ll be with.”

You cross your arms angrily and watch Wanda struggle to come up with a retort. She knows that you sometimes are a little peeved about not knowing the specifics of her job, but you’d never expressed your distrust in her like this. She takes a moment to breathe deeply before realizing that she’s doing this exact thing to you.

“I get that, but it’s not you that’s the problem. I don’t trust other people.”

This was the understatement of the century. Your wife was the least trusting person when it came to strangers. She’d been raised to be paranoid and she’s continued this because it keeps her safe at work. That said, you wish she could separate work from her personal life at times. She is always so afraid of something happening to you, but you can take care of yourself.

You sigh in defeat before you run a hand through your hair with a scowl. You get where Wanda’s coming from, but you can’t keep giving into her and letting her paranoia rule both of your lives.

“I get that, Wands. I do, but I’m going to this party. You can come with me, or you can just trust me to be fine on my own.”

Wanda does not like the idea of this and she’s frowning as she tries to come up with an argument but you’re already leaving. You need to get ready and you’re going to have to call your friends and tell them you’re going to be a little late.

Wanda wishes she wasn’t busy tonight because she’d love to go with you. She’d love to be your date and meet your friends, but she had something important to do tonight. She and Nat were trying to close this deal and it would mean millions for her and more loyal employees. She couldn’t risk losing that just to take you to a party.

“At least take someone with you. “

You frown at this before turning back around to face Wanda with a raised eyebrow.

“You want someone to come with me, fine. What about Nat? “

Wanda hates that she’s the first person you think of, but she shakes her head before saying that she’s busy. She rejects the idea of you taking Yelena because there is no way you would be ending the night uneventfully if you take the blonde with you. Your best friend brought the most impulsive streak out of you and you’d only been injured or at-risk multiple times in the past.

“What about Bucky?”

You laugh at this before shaking your head vehemently. Nothing against Bucky, he was a great friend, but you weren’t going to take him with you to a party that he had no interest in. Not to mention the small detail of him being interrogated all night.

“Definitely not. People might think we’re together.”

Wanda is searching for another option when you just shake your head and shoot her a serious look. You’re not in the mood to fight about this, you just want to go have fun for a few hours and then come home and go to sleep. You hope Wanda will be here, but you’re not going to count on anything.

“I’m going alone then I guess.”

You’re shocked when Wanda leaves for work about half an hour before you leave for the party. You’ve already texted your friends and they’re planning on picking you up downstairs soon. You sigh before taking one last look in the mirror to straighten out your clothes. You’re hoping to have fun tonight. You’re going to try really hard not to worry about Wanda being mad at you. Honestly, you’re a little mad at her too, but you’re willing to let that go so you can have a fun time with your friends

When your friends arrive, you’re able to push your argument with Wanda from your mind, and you quickly begin to enjoy their presences and get hyped up.

Wanda’s having a more difficult time getting focused tonight, and since she’s with Nat it’s even worse. The other redhead is easily able to tell that she’s off, but she doesn’t want to bring it up at the moment. They’re only minutes away from meeting with a client to try and settle a dispute. This is not how either of them wanted to spend their Saturday night, but Wanda in particular had something she’d much rather be doing. Nat knew about your party tonight because Yelena had complained about not being invited. She was sure that Wanda had sent Bucky to watch you regardless of whether you wanted her to or not.

Still, Wanda would have preferred to be there herself, but this damn deal had to happen tonight. Regardless, that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it, and everyone around her could tell she was in a foul mood. She wants to get this finished as soon as possible, but of course that means this is going to be drawn out and painful. Almost two hours pass before things are concluded, but Wanda still needs to hang around to make arrangements with her team. She wonders how you’re doing at the party. Hopefully you’re enjoying yourself, just not too much.

“Y/n come on! Let’s get another drink.”

You just nod in agreement as you let your friend lead you back to the bar. You’ve been having a great time so far and you’re glad that Wanda didn’t talk you into staying at home. You had spent your time catching up with your classmates, figuring out what their plans were for the next step and of course you’d been drinking. There was food here too and you ate a lot of that, but you’d also had a fair amount to drink.

You did this for multiple reasons. You wanted to enjoy yourself tonight despite your little argument with Wanda, but most importantly you wanted to relax. You’d have a long, rough 4 years in school, and tonight was the celebration of all of it. It was all over, you’d passed your boards, you had a job and you were on to bigger and better things. You were officially a doctor, and you wanted to celebrate. Your friends were great company, and dancing with all of your drunk friends was proving to be hilarious and beyond entertaining. You only thought about Wanda a handful of times, and you wish she was here with you, but you were determined to have a good time.

When you both make it to the bar you consider just getting a water. You’re a little tipsy. Your face is flushed and you’re a little tired from all of the alcohol, dancing and socializing. That said, when your friend orders you both shots, you’re not going to turn her down. After you grab your drinks, you go find a table to sit at to take a breather. You’re grateful for this and you nearly collapse into your chair with a sigh.

“So your lady didn’t come tonight?”

You sigh as you shake your head in response to this question for maybe the dozenth time since you got here. It wasn’t a secret that you were in a relationship. You liked to talk about Wanda and how great she was, but no one had met her yet. She was just so busy and paranoid that you knew she was just going to be a mystery to everyone. You wouldn’t be surprised if people thought you were lying about her.

You glance at your shot as you roll the small glass between your fingers with a shrug.

“She was busy. Work again.”

Your closest friend from vet school knows about Wanda’s less than legal job. It was impossible not to tell her after all of the times she’d try to meet her and have it cancelled last minute. She had seen a picture of the redhead and she’d heard you talk to her on the phone, but she’d never met her. She sometimes worried that the redhead wasn’t good enough for you because her presence was so variable and you had trouble relying on her. That said, you spoke so highly of her that it was difficult for her to convince you to second guess your relationship. She wanted you to be happy above all else, but she really wishes she could meet this Wanda and have a heart to heart.

“She works too damn much!”

You laugh at this and you raise your glass to clink it against your friend’s with a wide smile.

“Amen to that.”

You both down the shots quickly and talk for a little while longer before returning to the rest of your friends on the dance floor. Your class had rented out this bar for the night and it was just students and their plus ones. You friend had brought her husband, and your other friends had their significant others as well. You tried not to feel lonely among the crowd of people, despite not having the one person you’d like by your side.

“Wanda, get out of here.”

Wanda turns at Nat’s sudden declaration and she can’t help but frown at the look on her friend’s face.

“What? Why?”

Nat has to resist the urge to roll her eyes as she shoots her friend a knowing look. They’re almost done here, and honestly Wanda doesn’t need to stick around. Nat knows that she likes to be present for these sorts of things, but it’s not necessary. Not to mention, Wanda has somewhere else that she’d rather be right now, and to be honest, Nat would rather her be there too. Things have been tense given her bad mood, and she wants to give everyone a break. It’s nearly 11 and they would all rather be in bed. At the very least, Wanda should be able to go to a party with you.

“We’re almost done here, and Y/n wanted you to go with her tonight. So go.”

Wanda shoots her friend a glare but she can’t argue with what she says. She considers it for a few seconds before sighing in defeat. She doesn’t want to be here. She’s tense and frustrated, and seeing you right now would make everything better. So Wanda leaves, much to everyone’s relief and she hurries to the bar where you are hopefully still at your graduation party.

“Hey, Y/n!”

You turn at the sound of a familiar voice. You had been looking for this classmate all night and you can’t help but smile widely when you see him. He was always a friendly face who was happy to see you despite how you were feeling and how things were going. You hadn’t really talked to him outside of class, but those moments when you passed each other in the halls or your patients overlapped were special. He never failed to brighten your day.

“Hey! How’s it going? Having fun?”

The two of you talk and then grab another round of drinks, but this time you opt for something non-alcoholic. It’s been a crazy night and you’re still a little drunk, so you want to start slowing down. You have no idea what time it is, but you’re probably not going to hang out here for much longer. You’re getting tired and you miss your wife.

“Yeah, it’s been great getting to see everyone here. How are you? I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

You tell him the truth, that you’ve had a blast despite flying solo and he smiles before holding up his hand for you to high five. You’re not even sure why at first, but you don’t hesitate to meet him with a smile.

“Your girlfriend couldn’t make it?”

You don’t bother correcting him because only a select few knew that you were married. You hadn’t wanted to bring too much attention to Wanda because despite few people knowing who she truly was, you didn’t want to risk the truth getting out. So you just sigh dramatically before shaking your head with a frown. She was working.

You say this and your friend frowns as well before shaking his head. He realizes more often than not, that you’re flying solo and he can’t help but wonder why. It’s not his business, so he doesn’t ask and risk upsetting you, instead he offers his hand with a questioning look.

“That’s too bad, but perhaps you’ll allow me this dance?”

That’s how Wanda finds you when she arrives a little later. You’re still with your friend laughing and dancing with a large group of people. Wanda recognizes a few of your friends among the crowd, but most of these people she doesn’t recognize. She realizes that you’re not the only one having a really good time, and she wishes she could have been here sooner. She’s not exactly dressed for the occasion since she didn’t want to waste time running home first. She walks through the stuffy bar watching you carefully as you turn your attention to one of your good friends. You’re talking and she’s dragging you away from the middle of the crowd to show you something.

She watches you talk excitedly with her for a few minutes before she decides to announce her presence. Despite being surrounded by drunk people, some are taking notice of her, and she doesn’t want their attention right now. She came here for you after all.

“That’s amazing!!! I’m so happy for you. You’re going to be great at that!”

You hug your friend in congratulations at the news of her job. She’d been struggling to find something these past few months since she didn’t match with a residency program, but it seems like her bad luck streak is ending. You smile at her and nod when she says she’s going to find your other friend and tell her before heading out. At this point you take a second to check your phone and you see it’s nearly midnight.

“Hey, detka.”

You turn around at the sound of your wife’s voice, and you smile widely when you realize you’re not drunkenly hallucinating. You squeal in excitement as you hug the redhead who’s looking at you in amusement. You’re flushed and sweaty from your time here, but she doesn’t care about this. She’s just glad to see that you’re enjoying yourself and that you’re happy to see her. You’re definitely a little drunk too and she can’t help but smile at your uninhibited state which is evidenced by how you nearly shout at her.

“Hey! You made it! What are you doing here?”

You smile stupidly as you pull away from your wife to see her just smile at you. You want to ask how her business went, but the fact that she’s here at all is overshadowing everything else. You drag her away from the center of the crowd and into a corner where you might be able to have a modicum of privacy. She laughs at you as you hug her again and she just holds you close before offering you an answer to your question. She kisses you briefly before she tells you that work was boring and that she wanted to come see you. This makes your face light up even more, but Wanda doesn’t have much time to admire you before you’re kissing her again.

You don’t even care if people notice or gawk at you, you’re just too excited that your wife is here. You’re relieved that she doesn’t seem irritated with you and returns your kiss with enthusiasm. She tastes the many types of alcohol on your tongue and she’s surprised by how coherent you are regardless. You’re usually a lightweight and despite loving you for it, you don’t usually drink much out of fear of being drunk and less aware of your surroundings.

“I’m glad you’re here, Wands.”

You whisper this into her ear as you break away to breathe. You’re breathing hard and holding tightly to your wife’s waist as if she’ll disappear. You sigh happily before you lean more heavily on the wall behind you. You chance a look around but don’t notice any of your friends nearby. They were headed out soon, but they’d promised to say goodbye so you weren’t too worried. For now, your focus was on your beautiful wife who’s brushing a strand of hair that escaped your messy ponytail behind your ear. She returns her hand back to your hip and agrees with your sentiment.

“Me too. This is much more fun.”

You open your mouth to say something in response, but Wanda leans in to whisper in your ear at the same time that she presses her hips against yours just long enough to leave you breathless. You can’t help but stiffen and dig your nails into Wanda’s skin.

“I’m also so glad I got to see you all flushed and breathless. You’re so fucking pretty like this.”

You try to hold Wanda close to you, but she moves away, and you can’t help but whine at the loss. You feel your face flushing further and you know it has nothing to do with the alcohol that is quickly leaving your system. You’re too busy thinking about the fact that Wanda is packing to realize that you’ve caught your friends’ attention. You don’t even turn at first when they call your name, but Wanda does and she immediately recognizes the duo in front of her.

“Y/n there you are! We’re about to head out.”

You finally gather your wits and you smile before standing up straight to offer them a goodbye. You hug them both before realizing that you’re being rude. You’re too frazzled to realize that your friends are looking to Wanda until they shoot a look at you.

“Oh! Right, sorry guys. This is Wanda, Wanda, meet my friends.”

The trio exchange pleasantries before there’s a loud round of cheering for something that muffles everything else you say. Your friends leave shortly after despite wanting to know more about your wife they’ve finally caught a glimpse of, but the look they shoot you tells you that you’ll be telling them later.

“Do you want to get out of here, detka?”

You don’t even have to think about it, and you’re nodding as you near drag your wife back outside. You got a ride here, so you look for Wanda’s car in the very full lot with little success. She chuckles before redirecting you with a light tug on your arm and a muttered, ‘this way’. You follow her easily and you’re near shaking in anticipation as she unlocks the doors and leads you to the passenger side.

“For you, milady.”

You just roll your eyes but hurry to get into the seat and get buckled. You’re ready to get home now, but knowing Wanda she’s going to tease you by driving as slowly as possible.

You hate how you know your wife so well and the ride home is excruciatingly long, and not just because of how slowly Wanda’s driving. For the entire ride, she’s had a hand on your thigh and with each passing minute you think she’s going to keep climbing up under your skirt only to drop back to your knee. You’re beyond frustrated right now and you can feel how soaked you are as you struggle not to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Almost there.”

Wanda says this despite you knowing how close you are to the compound. You have to bite back the urge to say something snarky that highlights just how close you are to snapping as well. You sigh heavily in an attempt to relax before nodding in acknowledgement. It’s not until you’re back in your rooms that you realize why Wanda drove so slowly and tortured you both.

You have her pinned against the front door and you don’t hesitate to kiss her thoroughly. You’re well beyond frustrated at this point, so when she turns her head away from you, you almost growl in annoyance.

“How are you feeling?”

You have many possible answers for this question, but you take a minute to think about it and you realize what your wife is really asking. You can’t help but feel your desire for her grow even more at the fact that she’s still looking out for you even now that you’re at home. You shake your head before shooting her a smile. You grab her hips before grinding against her with a groan.

“I feel great, Wands. Only drunk on you at the moment.”

Wanda would roll her eyes at your cheesy line if she weren’t so distracted by the feeling of you pushing against her strap. She hisses under her breath before nodding in understanding and that’s all you need.

You grab her hand and lead her to the bedroom. You groan at the sight of your wife flushed and waiting for you to make a move, and you can’t help but smile widely as you reach out for her.

“What do you say, Wands? Can I have a taste?”

She’s nodding before you even finish asking, and you can’t help but smile widely as you push her jacket off of her shoulders revealing the gun she always carries strapped to her hip. You take your time taking it off and carefully setting it aside before you turn your attention to her shirt with a sigh.

“Yes, yes. Whatever you want.”

You smile wider at this as you start to unbutton your wife’s shirt to reveal her flushed and heaving chest. You stop about half way because you have a better idea, and you reach for her belt. You studiously ignore the throbbing between your own legs, so you can focus on your wife for the time being. You know that when it comes to times like this with your wife that waiting is always worth it in the end. You undo your wife’s belt and reach into her pants with very little patience. You force yourself to take your time as you feel the strap you’ll be taking later against your palm. You both groan in unison as you squeeze and run your hand down the length experimentally. You nearly bite your lip as you imagine what it will feel like, but you shake that thought away for now to focus on Wanda.

“Y/n, please.”

Wanda shifts impatiently against the door as you continue to press against her clit with each stroke. You consider your next move carefully before you slide Wanda’s pants down her legs. You follow their path as you get to your knees in front of her. Her breath catches in her throat when she realizes what you’re going to do, but she doesn’t dare protest as you take her strap in your mouth without another word. You push Wanda’s hips back against the door as she tries to move closer to you, and she just groans in frustration. You smile as you continue to pump the length of the strap as you get it ready for you.

“Fuck, detka.”

She chances a look down at you and nearly comes at the sight of you on your knees with her strap in your mouth. She angles her hips slightly and moans as you hit her just right, and she can’t help but throw out a hand to run her fingers through your hair. She tugs on your hair a little and it makes you even wetter to know how close she is already. You can feel her knees shaking and you adjust slightly so you can support her better so she doesn’t fall on the ground.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect. Are you going to come for me?”

Your only answer is a loud moan as you continue to apply pressure against your wife in a way that makes her see stars. She’s near thrashing against you as she threatens to yank out some of your hair as she comes close. She’s nodding but she can’t find the words to answer before she comes. She stiffens and her back arches against the door as she shudders in pleasure. You have to hold her up by her thighs as her legs collapse underneath her. You groan quietly as you climb to your feet and carry your wife over to the bed.

You gently set her down so she’s lying against the pillows before pulling her in for a kiss. She deepens it with a groan and her hand comes up to your neck to pull you closer to her. You are more than happy to close the distance between the two of you, and you climb up on the bed beside her as she breaks away to attack your neck.

“Fuck, Wands, I need you.”

Wanda doesn’t miss a beat as she reaches out to help you shift so your legs are on either side of her straddling her hips. You groan as you grab Wanda’s hands that are on your legs and pull them up your thighs until they’re under your skirt. You shudder and nearly buck your hips at the feeling of her hands so close to your soaked and aching core. Wanda moans as her hand travels up to the soaked fabric between your legs. You can’t help but jerk against her touch when she finds your clit. You throw your head back with a groan before you shift so you can take them off.

“I need you to fuck me hard, okay Wands?”

You watch as her pupils dilate with lust as she reaches out for you to bring you closer. She pulls you back over her lap and tries to push your skirt up until you grab her hands. You smile as she looks to you in confusion before you shake your head and move her hands to her side and hold them there.

“On second thought, I just want you to watch.”

Wanda can’t help but whine as she struggles to free her hands from yours. She wants to touch you, but the look you shoot her makes her second guess going against you. You really want the strap that’s standing up waiting for you, taunting you, but you also want your wife to do as you ask. You decide that you can wait a little longer if it means more pleasure for the both of you.

“Or I can tie you to this bed and get myself off in the other room, if you like that idea better?”

Wanda’s quick to shake her head and she stops fighting against you with a pitiful whine of defeat. You just smile at her before waiting for a few seconds to see if she’s really going to listen. You release her hands slowly and you kiss her as a reward. Wanda almost forgets right then and goes to touch you, but the sound of her hands slamming back onto the bed alert you of her near slip up. You smile into the kiss before deciding that you’ve waited long enough.

You lower yourself onto her lap and rub the strap against you with a needy groan. Wanda moans into the kiss before breaking away to watch you lower yourself onto the thick length with a sigh. When your hips meet your wife’s, you need to take a moment to breathe so you don’t come before you’re ready. You clench around the strap and bite back a moan as you shudder in need.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

You slowly start to rock your hips against Wanda’s and you feel her stiffen beneath you. You open your eyes to see her watching you with a pained, desperate expression. She looks like she’s dying to reach out and touch you as she fists the sheets beneath her, and you smile proudly at her. You know that Wanda feels each thrust of your hips, but she continues to keep her hands to herself which you’re honestly not sure you could have done without being physically forced to. For this, you decide to give your wife a little reward, and you sigh in relief as you begin rolling your hips harder against Wanda who can’t hold back a loud moan.

“Shit, detka, please, please.”

You ignore your wife’s pleas for now as you run your hands up your own thighs and push up your skirt. It takes Wanda a minute to realize you’ve done this, but once she looks up at you again, she is able to see her strap disappear inside of you with each roll of your hips. She has to bite her lip and squeeze her eyes shut to keep from coming at that sight alone, and as a result she misses your smug smirk as you start to pick up the pace.

“Did you plan on this happening Wands? Did you come to my party packing because you knew it would drive me crazy?”

Wanda’s nodding and muttering incoherently as she starts to meet your thrusts with her hips. You don’t tell her off, so she takes this as permission to continue. She hisses when a particularly hard thrust makes her shudder in pleasure and she curses under her breath.

“Did you imagine dragging me to the bathroom and fucking me where anyone could walk in or hear us? Does the thought of that get you off?”

Wanda doesn’t have a chance to struggle to respond before you stiffen above her and curse loudly. You come suddenly and violently as pleasure shoots up your spine and sends a wave of heat all the way to your toes. You don’t realize that Wanda’s panting beneath you until you reach out for her hands with a pleased smile. You take a moment to catch your breath before shooting your wife a questioning look.

“Do you want to show me how well you can fuck me?”

Wanda doesn’t need to respond with words, she moves so quickly, and you just meet her lips for another kiss before lifting yourself off of her. You groan at the loss and move away so Wanda can get up. She chases after you but you move away from her with a sigh. You stretch out, and you lift your shirt over your head before lying on your back with a sigh.

“Can you come take this off for me?”

Wanda is helpless to resist and she crawls towards you to help you take off your skirt. She allows her hands to run down your legs as she does and you just hum appreciatively before reaching for your bra.

Wanda doesn’t need to be told and she reaches out to remove your bra with a quick snap before flinging it off the bed. You laugh at this but she ignores you as she takes a moment to look at you. You’re beautiful and flushed and Wanda can’t ignore the urge to mark you so everyone else can know that you’re hers. She thinks back briefly to the friend she saw you dancing with. He seemed familiar and she’s going to have to ask you about him later. For now, though, she plans on taking advantage of your willingness to let her take over. She watches wordlessly as you roll over onto your stomach with a sigh before looking over your shoulder at her with a grin.

“You’re allowed to touch me now.”

Wanda is on you in that same instant, and you have to hold back your initial reaction to jump in surprise. You sigh in relief when you feel your wife’s hands trail down your back to your waist before trailing back up to your shoulders. You have to bite back your urge to demand she hurries up because you just handed control over, and you knew your wife well enough to know that she’d exercise it without hesitation. For this reason, you just take a deep breath and hold your tongue as Wanda finally starts to spread your legs. You hiss and then curse when Wanda sneaks a hand between your legs and pushes two fingers into you. She can’t resist the urge to taste you and despite the annoyed groan you let out, she pulls her fingers free too quickly in your opinion, but you don’t have a chance to complain before Wanda crawls closer to you.

“You taste so good, detka.”

You groan in need and start to shift impatiently, and Wanda’s quick to still you with a hand on your hip. You are about to demand that she touch you when you finally feel the tip of her strap tease your folds. You tense and moan in anticipation as Wanda starts to push into you slowly. You think she’s going to tease you mercilessly until she bottoms out suddenly making you curse and moan. You groan as Wanda lifts your hips so she can push even further in and you almost collapse back onto the bed.

You miss her smile over your shoulder as you groan at the feeling of her filling you up. This angle lets her hit your g spot with each stroke and you know you won’t last long. Wanda doesn’t seem very concerned about this as she starts to thrust harder, and her pace leaves you breathless.

“Fuck, fuck!”

You moan loudly as Wanda continues to throw her hips against yours. She spreads your legs wider before leaning over you so she can fuck into you just right. You nearly black out when you feel her brush against that spot that has you seeing stars. You’re about to fall apart when Wanda’s hand sneaks down to press against your stomach and you come immediately. You curse and struggle to catch your breath as Wanda continues to fuck you senseless. You fall against the bed and your face is hot against the sheets as they muffle your screams. You are still in the middle of your orgasm when Wanda flips you over onto your back.

If you weren’t already breathless, it would have knocked the air from your lungs. Wanda’s intent to steal it from you anyway as she leans over and kisses you deeply as she continues to thrust into you. Her hands move from your hips up to your breasts, and you’re arching into her touch with another moan.

“God, you’re so sexy, I could fuck you all night if you let me.”

Despite how amazing this sounds; you highly doubt you’d be able to last that long. You were tired before you got home, but now you’re near exhaustion as Wanda continues to work you up to the point of near insanity. You reach out to bring her closer to you digging your nails into her shoulder blades. She groans at the feeling of you breaking skin despite the fact she still has her shirt on. You quickly go to fix this as you start tugging on the fabric before pulling her closer so you can kiss her again.

“Fuck, I’m—”

You can’t even finish your thought before you’re coming for a third time. This one makes your body feel like it’s made of jelly and you go limp. Wanda comes right after you and she curses under her breath as she starts to pull out but you stop her with a hand on her wrist. She looks up to see you shooting her a smile as you start to sit up.

“Again.”

Wanda can’t keep the shock she feels from showing on her face and you have to resist the urge to laugh at her. She’s following your lead and helping you sit up before you pull her close and wrap your arms around her.

“Seriously??”

You look over your shoulder to the bathroom because you’re even sweatier than when you came home and you need to change that now. You tap her on the shoulder while shooting her a serious look that she just rolls her eyes at.

“Yes, shower. Now please.”

Wanda sighs as she lifts you into her arms and takes you into the bathroom; you laughing all the way there.

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #silver springs #silver springs drabble #mob au #smut #FUCK I FOUND A TYPO. Ugh tumblr #stop reordering my sentencesssss

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

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Hello! A long while back (it's had to have been at least a year at this point), you and Mothman came into where I worked with the lovely miss Holly Mop (she had fur stuck in her eye and was squinting it; we rinsed it out and sent her home). I recognized her from your blog, but didn't know how to say I knew you and read (and loved!) your work without it being awkward, since things like legal names automatically come up in our system, and I didn't want you to be worried about it? But I've (1/3)

also felt bad since then about not telling you because idk, I feel like you deserve to know if someone Recognizes You from the blue hellsite. So I guess I just wanted to say: you and Mothman were very lovely, and Holly is genuinely the cutest shih tzu I have ever seen irl and that is saying smth bc I have seen a lot. I also made a point to make myself forget everything else from that appointment, so I also have no idea who you are beyond your pen name. (⅔)

Sorry if this worries you at all - it was absolutely not my intention, I just feel you deserve to know. And I’m sorry for not telling you at the time that I recognized you. I do not expect a response from you at all, I just wanted to let you know, especially if it makes you uncomfortable and would want to block me for it ;v; I hope you have a fantastic evening, and thank you guys for being so kind to your veterinary staff. (3/3)

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You're going to laugh when I tell you this, but if you're who I am thinking of, when you took Holly Mop away, I turned to Mothman and said, "I think that person knows me. Or maybe they've just got Tumblr vibes. I think it's the hair."

So if you are who I think you are, you have great hair, and thank you so much for taking such good care of Ms. Holly.

She normally comes out of veterinary rooms traumatized, and our visit to see you at [redacted] was the first time that didn't happen.

It was one of the reasons we signed ourselves up for the waiting list to move her primary care there, which we just have! Holly is now an official primary patient where you work (provided you are still there), so if you see us in the future, please feel free to say hi! (if you want to, no pressure) It makes us feel better to know she's in safe hands with people who care about her and who don't set her anxiety off.

And also, please don't feel bad about not saying anything the first time around. It can be hard to walk up to someone -- especially at your job -- and be like, "I like your shoelaces" (though it has happened to me a couple of times at Target, Walgreens, my hair stylist, lol) and don't worry about knowing our identities. There's a handful of people on here who know my legal name vs my preferred name -- all we ask is that it not get posted anywhere.

Thank you for letting me know though, and thank you again for taking such good care of Holly Mop. We really appreciated it, and you made her feel so much better. 💖

#holly mop

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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 month

Note

ash i love vince so much he is my number 2 babygirl (antoni number 1 babygirl forever)

i would like to formally request some vince having a Bad Time, either past stuff with owen or present with recovery being a bitch

because there is nothing better than lovely characters having bad times that they absolutely do not deserve

CW: Alcoholism, withdrawal/cravings, alcoholic anger, Vince and Jameson both PTSD-ing all over the place, guilt

Oh, poor Vince. Takes place post-the Same Bed Arc, after Vince is living with Nat and Jameson.

Vince doesn't even look up when he hears Jameson stop in the doorway. He just pours a few shots worth of the gin into the glass, staring fixedly down at it. The liquid, clear as water but with the herbal scent washing over him like a welcome spring rain, spreads over the ice with those gentle cracks he knows better than his own heartbeat.

God, it looks good.

His hands don't shake, now. His heart doesn't race. He doesn't feel sweaty, or upset, or like he'll be sick.

He just feels like he's staring at the solution to all his problems, and all he has to do is swallow it down.

This should feel awful - he knows it should. It should taste awful, there should be something to remind him of the damage he does to himself every time he drinks again. He should hear his sponsor speaking in the back of his mind, he should hear the voices of the others at the meetings he goes to - one for alcoholism, one for survivors of sexual assault, twice a week there's movie star Vincent goddamn Shield among the normal people and admitting he's barely human, just a wreck that only survived Owen Grant because Nat decided she gave a fuck about him for reasons Vince still doesn't understand.

Here he stands, a hollow shell wearing a nice face who let someone else suffer in his place and was grateful for it for far too long.

Kauri hates him but it's nothing compared to how much he hates himself.

Vince lifts the glass, hesitating at the last second with the cool rim just touching his lower lip. Gin smells like blacking out and right now he could use the blessed darkness, hangover be damned.

He can worry about that when the headache kicks in tomorrow morning.

He realizes he's waiting for the sickening crawl of guilt at letting Nat down, at-... at letting himself down. Maybe that will come later, but right now... He feels goddamn good. Settled. Calm.

He and Jameson meet eyes just as he tosses the drink back, three large swallows of juniper-scented gin down his throat like water, leaving only the ice cubes behind.

The burn is perfect.

He pours himself another drink, feeling the warmth slowly spread through his chest to his shoulders, eyes briefly closing. God, it feels like goddamn heaven.

He looks up.

Jameson is still standing there in the doorway, looking oddly soft in a loose sweater that's far too big for him and a pair of old jeans that probably cost a dollar at a yard sale and even that was too much. Vince has jeans that distressed, somewhere.

His cost more than five hundred dollars.

He chokes on the next drink from trying not to laugh.

Jameson's eyes narrow. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Vince takes another sip, eyes half-closed, letting himself take it slow this time and really enjoy the taste.

He'd honestly been surprised the little liquor store down the block even carried this brand of gin. Not that he wouldn't have bought whatever he could get, when he stood there feeling like he would die if he had to go another day, but still. It's nice to have seen his favorite stuff, top shelf, pricier than it had any right to be. It's not even that good, but it's still his favorite. It still tastes, to him, like the nights he sleeps without nightmares, few and far between.

Gin tastes like those nights he gets to sleep at all.

The cashier had looked surprised as she wiped off the dust and rang it up for him. Then, with a shy smile, she'd asked him if anyone ever told him he looked a lot like Vincent Shield. He'd been kind of sad she didn't card him - it would have been nice to see the look on her face when she saw his name.

Instead, he paid in cash, laughed, and told her the standard I get that a lot, actually.

Jameson doesn't move closer, or leave. "It looks like you're fucking yourself up," He says, lingering in the doorway. "You can't just start drinking again. You know that, right?"

"Oh, I sure as hell can." Vince laughs, but it's a bitter sound. He licks the gin lingering on his lips, then gestures at the bottle. "Have some with me."

He's caught, for just a moment, when he sees Jameson wearing an expression Vince has never seen on him before. He looks... nervous. Afraid, almost, instead of angry.

"I-I don't want to," Jameson says, but there's a way he says it that makes Vince think he'd drink if he offers again. Maybe he wants to, or maybe he just doesn't want to make Vince mad.

If he commanded it, if he gave an order... Jameson would be as he's told, wouldn't he? Damn, that would be some power to have over someone.

This must be why Owen liked it so much.

No.

He won't think about Owen right now.

Vince gulps down liquid until he's breathless, almost panting. The warmth is like the familiar cradle of a softer reality settling in. He makes himself slow down this time, picking up an ice cube and sucking the juniper taste right off it before crunching it with his teeth.

"Vince." Jameson's voice gets harsher, and something seems to break his brief paralysis. He moves closer, grabbing the bottle and pulling it away when Vince puts a hand out to pour the third drink. "Fucking... look at me. What the fuck?"

Vince's hand just... hangs out there, reaching for a bottle that isn't where it was. He stares at the empty space, and feels that dark inside of him threaten to well up yet again. "What?"

Jameson swallows, his eyes moving to the glass, back to Vince's face. He steps backwards, and Vince watches the bottle go with him with a piercing need that could easily knock him off his feet if he weren't holding onto the back of a chair. Jameson clears his throat. "Aren't you... like, sober now?"

"Mmmn. Was. Got the like... three month chip thing and everything." He's gotten thoroughly wasted so many times in his life. Nothing relaxes him better than enough alcohol to force his body to stop living in constant, unending fear of who might hurt him next. "Right now, I am tipsy instead. In about an hour, I'm going to be absolutely fucked up. Give me back my gin."

Jameson's hand moves - then he jerks it back, taking a few steps backwards until he's back in the doorway. His eyes are on Vince's face, watching him with a total focus that Vince recognizes from the others he's worked with over the years - Jameson's just a trained pet, in this moment, watching to see if the master will be angry.

It makes him laugh again, more bitterly this time. Is he the master? Has he ever been his own master, let alone anyone else's?

"I... I can't do that," Jameson says, and Vince hears that he doesn't say no. When Vince moves towards him, he backs up a little more, and Vince comes to a stop just a foot or so away.

"Am... am I scaring you?" He asks, suddenly.

It wasn't what he meant to say, he meant to demand his drink again. Instead, this question that... that just sort of falls out of him like a waterfall.

Jameson's jaw sets and his eyes narrow. "You're not doing shit to me," He snaps, but Vince knows he's really saying yes.

Is this why people buy pets? So they can see something pretend not to be scared, and know they're the monster not just under the bed, but in it?

"Oh," He whispers. "What is it? Why are you scared? I'm just a drunk asshole, why are you scared of me?"

Jameson bristles, but then he offers - as if it's pulled out of him against his will - the softest explanation. "Brute and Robert got drunk all the time. I know what happens when-... when people get this kind of drunk."

There's a look in his eyes Vince has seen before in Kauri's. Not fear of him, not directly, but fear of someone like him, maybe. Fear of having demands made that can't be denied.

Is this how Owen felt, every time Kauri had to playact the loving boyfriend with bruises on his wrists and terror making his heart race? Is this how it feels to have power over somebody else when you can't even control yourself?

It's... it's good, almost.

It feels better than he thought it would.

"Back up, Shield," Jameson hisses, like a cat spitting and arching its back, ready to attack with claws and sharp teeth not because it's confident in victory but because it's so small it has to fight to have even the slightest chance to survive.

Vince looks him over, reading with an actor's expertise how he's projecting a confident swagger he never feels, how the irritation layers itself so carefully over a vulnerability that he sees as weakness. Vince has lived that way, too, since he was twenty-one, since his best friend turned out to be a rapist who wanted Vince to himself, since he started drinking to forget every single night and putting on the perfect face during his days.

They both survived, didn't they?

Jameson just did it by fighting his way out, and Vince by pretending to be someone he wasn't until nobody knew who he actually was, and that's a way of surviving, too. Wear another face, and make sure no one sees the fear in your real one, so they can't refuse to help you... because you've never asked.

"No." At least one of them can say it. Although that makes Vince's heart twist with ugly guilt, the petty cruelty of the thought. "Give me my gin," Vince says, pitching his voice low, and holds out his hand. "Now, Jameson. Give it to me."

"I can't." The strength is gone from Jameson's voice, and he looks at Vince with those dark eyes searching his own, trying to make himself understood. "If you drink, your-... your body's not used to it anymore, if you drink the same amount you'll fucking kill your stupid liver."

"What do you care about my liver?" Vince's voice drops low, almost a whisper. "What do you care about me, about my goddamn joke of a life, huh? What the fuck do you care? Why should anyone care?"

There's a flicker of something in Jameson's eyes - recognition, maybe. Something that lights up, just for a second, before the other man shoves Vince to the side with sudden violent strength and stalks to the sink, turning the bottle over and pouring that expensive artisan gin right down the drain.

"No!" Vince's voice is a ragged shout as he lunges after him, but it's too little too late.

Jameson's foot kicks out and slams into Vince's calf, sending him stumbling, clawing desperately as the gin is gone, glug glug glug, down into the pipes, disappearing towards the ocean.

Rage and terror fight in Vince's mind in a sudden white noise and he gets to his feet, grabbing Jameson by the arms and squeezing as hard as he can, shoving him back across the room. He hears Jameson hit one of the chairs, the clatter of wood and Jameson's grunt of pain as both hit the ground hard. The bottle is in the sink, and even when Vince scrambles to pick it back up, there's less than an inch of gin left.

He sucks it down, and only once he's gotten that final drop does he suddenly go still.

Oh.

There's the guilt and the horror and feeling sick at himself, just... twenty minutes too late. He sets the empty bottle carefully down, and then turns slowly around to look at Jameson.

Jameson sits on the kitchen floor, staring up at him with wide eyes. His face is pale, making the scar that twists the corner of his mouth stand out even more. His hair is nearly grown back in now, the bald patches hidden by the rest.

Vince exhales in a rush. "Oh, hell. Jameson-" He holds out a hand.

Jameson flinches.

Vince pulls his hand back, backing up until his back hits the edge of the sink. "Right. Okay. I'm-... I'm sorry Jameson-"

"Yeah." Jameson's voice is gruff, all the vulnerability and fear wiped away as soon as he realizes it's showing. He gets to his feet, shoulders protectively hunched, arms crossed in front of himself defensively. "Whatever. Sure you are. Drink yourself to death, shitbag, if that's what you want."

"I'm so sorry."

Jameson's jaw works. "... Everybody's always sorry. Then I get fucking hit again." Then he turns and walks - limps, really, his knees threatening to give out with every step - away. Vince stands there, frozen, listening as he makes his slow, painful way up the stairs.

Vince stares at the place he was for a while - he isn't sure how long. The gin is sinking its velvet claws into his mind, and he's drunker than he should be after only two drinks.

But then, it's been months.

Months, he made it without taking even a sip.

He swallows, again and again, and then pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, finds a contact, and presses the button to make the call.

The phone rings until he's certain it'll go to voicemail, before a voice he knows as well as his own is in his ear.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I-I need to talk to you," He stammers, his heart cold. "Please. Please. I-I've been drinking. I need... I need help."

There's a pause.

"From... me?"

"Yeah... yeah. You'll-... I need somebody who won't be nice to me-"

"Oh, well, if there's anything I love it's the chance to be mean to you, let me drop my entire life to come listen to you whine about yours."

"Please."

An exhale. "Whatever. Yeah, okay. I'll be over there in like... half an hour? An hour, maybe. Drink some water and I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't leave the house."

"Thanks... thank you, Kauri."

Kauri hangs up.

Vince pours himself a glass of water over the leftover gin-soaked ice, sipping it, barely flavored with a hint of the liquor he wants so badly. He rights the chair he'd accidentally shoved Jameson into, and listens to the creaking floorboards and muffled cursing above him as Jameson makes his halting painful way from stairway to his room, a couple thumps when he clearly falls and had to force himself back upright, until the pacing abruptly stops when he must have collapsed into his bed.

He hears the gentle patting of Trash Cat's paws as she leaves her place on the living room couch and follows him, too, her soft meowing until Jameson opens his door to let her come in after him. Then silence again.

Vince sits back down at the table, leaning over with his head in his hand, staring as the ice slowly melts, cooling the water around it.

He should have called his sponsor instead.

Whatever Kauri is about to say can only make this worse.

But he deserves it, anyway.

Vince doesn't move a muscle until he hears the sound of Jake's truck pulling into the driveway, crunching briefly over gravel before it's on the pavement again, when he raises his head.

Kauri walks in without knocking, stops in the doorway to the kitchen, and looks at him like his younger self ashamed of what he's grown into. Vince knows Jake must have driven him, but he's nowhere to be seen - maybe just staying outside, for now. He's clearly dressed for bed in a matching navy blue silk button-up and pajama pants, barefoot even.

"Hey," Vince says, weakly. The alcohol feels like poison now, not the soothing warmth it had been before. "I... I fucked up, Kauri."

"Yeah, I can tell just by looking at you, you're a goddamn mess." Kauri looks at Vince head-on, even though it still hurts him to do it, and Vince can see the flinch he suppresses as the headache kicks in. His blue eyes are identical to Vince's in nearly every way, except that Kauri's gaze has always been stronger. "What the hell did you do?"

"I got... I drank."

"Yep. I can see the gin bottle. Did you drink all of it?" Kauri's voice is flat and businesslike. It's like having his own younger self dressing him down, and somehow that feels... really good. Better than he thought it would.

"... No. Just a couple drinks. Jameson poured the rest out."

"Good for him." Kauri flickers a smile. "Where is he?"

"I-... I scared him."

"... you scared him?"

"Yeah. I was-... I wasn't-... I didn't mean to, but-"

"Shut up. All right. Tell me what you did. I'll fix it. This time, taking your place so I suffer for years while you run off and become obscenely wealthy is off the table, got it?"

Vince looks at him in horror only to see a surprising warmth in Kauri's smile. Not... not affection, but something like it. A wry compassion, maybe. Something else he doesn't deserve. "I don't know. I don't know if I can fix this, Kauri. I don't know."

"Well... I happen to the resident expert in trying to avoid dealing with your problems while making them all worse, so talk to me. Tell me what you did, start to finish. We'll figure out what comes next."

Vince lowers his head into his arms.

"Thank you," He says, muffled.

"Not enough thanks in the world, dumbass. Lucky for you I'm an amazing person who just happens to have spent most of my twenties making stupid drunk mistakes. So stop stalling and start talking."

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @whumpyourdamnpears @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @autophagay

#whump #ptsd tw #alcholism tw #withdrawal tw #alcoholic whumpee #recovering whumpee #recovery whump #vincent shield is not a hero #erase to control #since kauri makes an appearance #jameson bb #box boy universe #drunk whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #briefly and not on purpose

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fallingskiesandrisingseas · 6 months

Text

Alright everyone, buckle up. My Susan post talks about what happens to her after the story unfolds.

But what about the rest of the Pevensies?

Today, Lucy. ________________________________________

Lucy misses Narnia with every breath she takes.

England holds no magic, nothing as exasperating as the call of the fauns, the thrill of battle, the lightness that comes when she drinks too much meade.

Lucy comes back to an England in the middle of a war, is told to put up and shut up. Gone are the country days; Lucy is prepared for a normal life. And she manages. Mostly.

Because despite the quick wit and the inner light, that has only grown stronger, England can make little sense of the girl. A girl much wilder than the rest of them, much more polite.

Lucy takes to boarding school like a fish takes to dry land. No teacher ever sees the girl watching the board, and yet she never misses a word. Other girls do not understand her, this girl that only speaks in riddles and never wears shoes when it isn't mandatory.

Lucy, full of Aslan's words and eager to make something of herself, tries, really tries, to be friends with her schoolmates.

But her maturity goes far beyond being ahead on the school material. Her sense of morals and silver tongue do not allow for the backstabbing, gossiping girls that every boarding school has to cast her out, but she doesn't really belong, neither.

Everyone knows Lucy always listens. Few stay in her company long enough to figure out she also understands. No 13 year old girl should know that much about the war economy. Or about anything, really.

She's wild. Her books are full of drawings, her speech contains figures of speech no one has ever heard.

At school they take self-defense lessons one day -the war could come to England, after all- and Lucy cleaves a wooden block clean in two.

Her partner doesn't even see her move her leg.

Lucy always lifts her finger when drinking tea, has never broken a promise. She sits straight up in her chair, doesn't make a single error when she speaks. She doesn't get into fights with other girls, no matter how hard they try. It is impossible to outmanouver her verbally.

Everyone wonders if her brothers taught her to curse along with the debate training she has obvioulsy had.

Well-behaved isn't the word; Lucy is peculiar.

The only one who gets it, aside from Susan, is her dancing instructor. The man had taught royalty, ages ago. He moves four times the pace with her as he does with the rest of the class. There is an elegance to her, once you get used to the wandering eyes and the bare feet.

Lucy moves like a hurricane on legs. He teaches her tango, ballroom. Soon he has nothing to offer but better instructors. Lucy never misses a step. When dancing, her eyes are blazing. She is a district champion before the age of 14; on course to be a world champion before 18.

The old man does tell stories, however. Of when he was a young man, when he taught the queen. Lucy only feels alive then.

She moves through the years normally. In time, girls come to respect her maturity, learn not to ask who taught her how to ride horses and dance and throw knives. Lucy is always positive, rarely without a smile. She's not diplomatic like her sister. People come to her nonetheless. It feels impossible to remain somber in her presence. Yet she stays ahead of her peers. She isn't mature earlier, but rather just more.

Like she's lived another life.

The boys take notice, too. She has an inner light that shines very brightly, seems to believe in and embody magic. They try to woo her during gala's and dancing competitions, making bets among themselves who can get her to dance. Rarely do they succeed; Lucy sees through them almost instantly. Only when true and without ulterior motive does she accept invitations for dinner, drinks or dancing. And not without reason; a kiss from her is a nightcap unlike anything else.

Lucy's and the Pevensies' personal history becomes somewhat of an urban legend. Everyone has a theory, no one ever knows. One of the girls gets the bright idea to steal Lucy's diary from her room when she is away, but the stories are in a language none of them can read.

The next day, the girl doesn't show up. She's suddely gotten acne so bad she needs to take medication for it. Lucy's diary remains untouched for the rest of her years in the boarding school.

She has strange friends. Old professors, middleaged women, younger acquitances. They are all wild and like her. Among themselves they speak a language no one understands. Everyone thinks it must be an As(l)ian one.

The bond with her sister deteriorates over the years; at the end of her time there they are not close like they were at the beginning. Every girl in her dorm has a crush on one of the Pevensie brothers, however. They visit often, seem taller than they should.

Lucy smiles and dances and flirts and lives. But she is the one that misses magic the most. She sees the looks, feels the distance. She is the sun, but while everyone feels her warmth, none come too close.

When the spectre appears to warn them of problems in Narnia she finally feels like herself again. A queen of old, called on for aid. She jumps at the chance. She finds the rings, gets on the train.

When it crashes, she is thinking of Narnia.

#narnia meta #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie fanfic

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peach-and-bugs · 10 months

Note

“I didn’t miss you. But now you're here and… god, fuck me,” with teen nat preferably angst/smut please. thank you!

❤️I'm Out of Time - Natalie Scatorccio (2000) x fem!Reader❤️ (18+, Minors DNI, you will be blocked)

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: You hadn't seen Natalie for years. Not since she'd come back after the crash, and you where alright with that. You'd taken time for yourself and you'd moved on. You were working on your degree and finding yourself. You weren't anticipating any interruptions…

Warnings: Post-crash, 2000 (Natalie and reader are both 22), angst, swearing, Travis, toxic dynamics & smut (18+, Minors DNI, you will be blocked) - fingering, praise kink, oral fixation + some spit, top!Natalie, dumbification, minor primal but only if you really squint

Word Count: 3,618

A/N: Hello loves! I'm knocking out two requests with this one, as the quotes felt like they worked together well, so I hope yall don't mind! To make up for it I've made it a much longer than some other one-shots. I also felt like this could be read as sort of a sequel to my other Natalie fic, Blame Game, as both of these have pretty similar theming going on. As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!

Natalie Scatorccio Tag List:

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy @damagnificentcookie

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-❤️-

You’re day had gone on relatively average compared to most days. You’d gone grocery shopping after class and work for the week as you desperately needed to restock your fridge. Normally, it was your roommate’s week to do the shopping, but she was out for the weekend visiting family back in Jersey, so today, you bit the bullet and got it done. You were currently fumbling with your bags as you talked to your mom on your cellphone, all while trying to get out of your taxi. Your mother always tended to call at the worst times.

“No, Mom, I’m fine! I’m just trying to get inside, is all,” you huffed when she asked why you were breathing so hard. “Yes, money’s fine. I’ve just gotta balance work and school, is all” She cut you off again, and you had to stifle your sigh of irritation. You fumbled to pull your keys out of your bag as you approached your doorstep.

Only when you looked up, did you notice the figure sitting in front of your apartment’s door. Your apartment mainly was single girls or girls who didn’t live with their boyfriends, so you assumed it was some strange suiter till the figure noticed you and stood. They brushed the hair from their face, and your blood ran cold, freezing you where you stood.

“Ok, Mom? Can I call you back?” Your mother was already pestering you for a reason why before you could finish asking her. “I’m just trying to get inside all with full hands. I’ll call you back. I love you,” You had to talk over her to hang up, followed by a struggle to get your phone out from under your ear and shoulder and into your bag.

Only after that did you acknowledge Natalie, who had simply stood watching you the whole time. You gave her a pointed look before letting out a stuffed breath and approaching her. When she opened her mouth to speak, you shook your head without stopping or skipping a beat as you went to unlock your door.

“No,” was all you said, fumbling with your keys once more.

“I didn’t even say anything,” she started with an exasperated scoff in her tone, following after you.

“No, but I knew you would,”

“Oh, you knew I would say what?” she hadn’t even seen you for five minutes and was already getting defensive—typical Scatorccio behavior. You groaned and just unlocked the door to your apartment complex and walked in with Natalie in tow because there was no getting rid of her now.

“If you’re going to insist on following me, at least take something,” you aggressively shoved a paper bag in her arms, freeing up one of your hands to get a firm grip on your keys. She took the bag with a grimace but didn't further complain as she climbed the stairs with you. Of course, the elevator was still broken after a week, but you might as well get a little cardio in. You dramatically let Natalie into your apartment behind you, taking the bag from her after dropping your keys into the bowl by the door. You gave her no time to try the conversation again as you disappeared into your kitchen. You weren't going to let her derail your task. You wouldn't let her be a disruption.

Eventually, she found you after wandering into the apartment. You only gave her a glance of acknowledgment as you unpacked your groceries. She’d cut her hair, but she hadn't bothered bleaching it again like she always said she would. It now rested just above her shoulders. Her shabby bans could use a trim. The ends were falling in front of her eyes and had to be obstructing her vision. She’d also gotten her lip pierced since the last time she’d darkened your doorstep.

She kept her hands firmly shoved in the pockets of her leather jacket as she watched you. She was acting as though she hadn’t anticipated getting this far. You took a bundle of groceries to the fridge, and upon passing her, you scrunched your nose as you inhaled a familiar sour staleness.

“I thought you stopped smoking,” you commented offhandedly, neglecting to hide any condescending tone. Natalie, not expecting the sudden comment or conversation for that matter, gave you a confused look, her eyes following as you maneuvered around the pocket-sized kitchen.

“I'm sorry?” was all she could ask. You declined, looking back up at her as you turned your back to stick cans in you’re cupboards.

“You smell like cigarettes again,” she scratched at the back of her neck, looking away.

“Yeah, I picked it up again,” she acted as though she was about to be scolded by her mother. You turned around and gave her a hard look, trying to figure out what might be going on in her head. But Natalie was always tricky. She didn't let on what she was thinking. You could never figure her out. When you looked your way again, all you could do was groan and cover your eyes, practically boiling with frustration. And to think, just ten minutes ago, you thought to yourself that you’d been having a good, average day.

“Natalie, what do you want?” you forced yourself to ask, hands gripping the countertop of your kitchen island as you watched her. “Why are you here?”

“Do I need to want something to come and see you?” You were shaking your head before she could finish her thought.

“Yes! Yes, you do, Natalie, because you don’t just drop in,” You maneuvered out of the kitchen and into your living room with Natalie on your heels. “You always want something, even when you refuse to admit it,” You opened a window and stuck your head out, taking in a long breath of somewhat fresh city air. The sun was already starting to set as streetlights turned on one by one. Squeezing your eyes shut, you forced yourself to stick your head back into your apartment and face your “company.”

“I’m assuming it's money again,” you gave her a cold stare, crossing your arms and leaning against the windowsill. Natalie gawked at you, her jaw slightly hung wordlessly open till she scoffed, running a hand through her hair in exasperation. “What, am I wrong? Or maybe you thought you could crash on my couch,” you egged her on. This, of course, pissed her off, which you thought ‘good. If I have to be pissed, then so should she,’.

“Wow, so college did make you a stuck-up bitch,” she said under her breath, immediately regretting her bitter tongue based on the deer-in-headlights look she gave you after, but even with the apology pressed to her lips, you didn't have it.

“Fuck you, Scatorccio. You can leave right now for all I care,” you got up as you spoke, hands clenched into fists as you pointed at her chest. You raised a hand to shove her and get her out of your house, but she acted faster, grabbing you by the wrist. Her grip was tight, but not painful, but still enraging. That is till you looked into her eyes for just a little too long, and you gave up, your anger melting into pity and frustration instead as your brow knit and you frowned with a trembling lip.

“What more do you want from me, Natalie,” you asked weakly, holding from screaming despite the urge you had. But Natalie couldn’t immediately give you an answer. That or she didn’t want to answer. Instead, she just held your wrist, her eyes searching your face for something you couldn’t pinpoint as she frowned. That is till she couldn’t take it, her eyes waving from you, and she shook her head, lips parting as she found her wording.

“I guess I missed you,” you couldn’t help growing angry again. You tugged your wrist from her, which didn’t take much effort, and gave her a point, hurt, look again.

“You ‘guess?’ What, Travis not doing it for you anymore, so you thought you’d just come back to me as backup, once again?” It was now Natalie’s turn to get angry.

“This has nothing to do with him-”

“Oh, it always does, Natalie,” you argued back, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation as you began to pace the room. “It’s always gonna be about Travis because you only want me when you can’t have him,”

“That’s not true!” she yelled back with gritting teeth.

“When was the last time you came to see me when you weren't on a break?” you pressed, feeling the sting of tears begins to sting your eyes.

“When was the last time you thought about me when you were with him, huh? I’ll tell you because you don’t think of me when you’re with him. You only think about me when you’re all alone, and I’m your last resort because you push everyone else away,” You finally let yourself yell, choking on tears. You knew you didn’t mean what you were saying, not wholeheartedly anyway. You just wanted her to go. You wanted to hurt her so she’d leave and never come back because you couldn’t keep doing this.

You couldn’t keep feeling like second best or being around for a quick fuck when she was feeling lonely. You’d moved on! You were living your life for you and finding your way in the world. But then Natalie has the nerve to walk back in when she feels like it and when it is convenient for her. What about when it was convenient for you?

What about way back when, when you’d waited for her, your best friend, to see you standing there, wanting her that whole time, only to pick a douchebag boy over you. Natalie said nothing as you began to cry. You felt like you were caving in on yourself, morphing back into that sad, lonely teenager who longed to be noticed as someone more than a friend.

“I didn’t miss you,” you finally managed to talk again through choked sniffles. You sounded pitiful; you knew it. But what else was there to do now but to keep being honest? “I was finally feeling good! But now you're here and- god, fuck me,” you ran your hands through your hair, shaking your head as you pulled your eyes away from her, biting your lip. You took your fist, wrapping it around the thumb on your other hand, allowing your hands to shake as you started to pace once more.

God, you wanted her to leave, but still, the thought of being alone after all this felt unbearable. And despite the anger you were feeling, you still wanted her. You wanted her to hold you, caress you, make you forget all the bad things you'd been feeling. You just wanted it all to go away. You hadn't even noticed that you shut your eyes again till you felt Natalie’s hands caress your face, thumbing at the tears that fell as she wrapped her hand around your clenched fingers. You couldn’t help looking up at her, your cheek eagerly seeking to lean into the warmth of her palm. She looked down at you with sad, wet brown eyes that you couldn’t help being captivated by.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” she murmured rather stiffly, swallowing thickly as she nodded. “You’re right about all of it. And I’m sorry,” you took in a long sniff and shook your head.

“No, no, you're not. You're just saying that” You began to argue, but she urged you to listen.

“I am sorry, and I’ve missed you. Fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” she urged, squeezing your hand. “I just don’t wanna drag you into all my bullshit, you know? Because you don’t deserve that,” she explained weakly.

“I could have taken it,” You urged her, but she shook her head.

“I wouldn’t let you,” You sniffled again, relenting in a silent nod. You let that silence hang in the air till you couldn't bare it.

“Make it up to me?” Natalie knew the implication behind your request. You used that phrase with one another some times before, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“I don't know if that’s the best idea,” She murmured, taking her rare turn to be the rationally thinking one. But you shook your head as a final tear rolled down your cheek.

“Please,” you begged, squeezing her hand. “Just this time. If I regret it, it’s for me to deal with in the morning,” you knew you sounded miserably helpless, and you'd be embarrassed by your neediness when your mind cleared again, but for now, you leaned into it, excepting the mess you where when it came to Natalie. It was a bitter cycle; you knew it, but you could deal with the ramifications in the morning. After looking into your eyes for too long, she relented, taking your lips in with hers as your hands found refuge dug deep in her hair.

-❤-

She pressed you hard into the bed, aggressively tugging at your shirt to come off over your head as she straddled your hips, letting out hot and heavy breaths against your ear as she struggled to swallow the moan that threatened to push past her lips. You started to tug at her ripped shirt as well, only for Natalie to stop you and take it off in one swift motion. You are about to reach out for her till she gets off your lap, scooping under you to move you up the bed.

She kneeled on the bed above you and between your legs, messing with the buckle of her belt, smiling down at you with a wicked grin as her eyes lingered on your exposed, rising chest, then down to the band of your pants. Wordlessly you understand to take your pants off and sit up to do so as Natalie does the same. With the last major layer removed, your both left clad in your underwear. That is till you took your bra off, leaving your chest bare in front of her.

Natalie lunged forward, straddling your hips once more as she caught your lips in a heavy, messy kiss. Teeth scrape at your lip, and you meet the cold metal of her lip ring. Her breath was hot as it fanned over the skin of your face till she moved on to your neck. She sat above you, holding herself up with a knee and embows as she started marking up your neck. Her knee shifted into place between your legs, forcing into your core, and you let out a heavy moan from your throat. You could feel her smiling against the spot she now soothed on your neck, knowing what she’d done.

“That's a c-cheep shot,” you managed to stutter out as she moved on to scrap her teeth over your collarbone. She’d done that long ago on accident but recalled the reaction you'd had then too. Your hips began to gently rock against her knee, already craving any friction available for the growing ache down below. Of course, Natalie only found this to be further amusing. But she eventually relented, her hands pressing your hips down and still, as she moved down your body, kissing your stomach as she pulled her knee away and practically pealed away your underwear.

She dared to look up at you through her lashes with that blown, lusting look in her eye that had you turning your head away, fust clenching the pillow under your head as you bit your lip to stifle the moan in your throat. Of course, this wasn’t acceptable as she always liked seeing your eyes, so her hand snaked into your underwear, the pads of her pointer and middle finger finding your clit with ease; she moved up your body again, taking your chin between your fingers. You knew your face was flushed and hot, your chest heaving up and down with labored breath, your brows creasing as you strained to suppress the sounds pulling at your throat. But all the same, Natalie smiled down at you, her eyes full of unfamiliar warmth and affection that you craved.

“Don’t be quiet for me,” she purred, tilting her head as she held your chin. She squeezed your cheeks just enough to part your lips, which released a breathy moan, and she grinned, nodding along as her fingers began to circle your clit in rhythm with the roll of your hips. You were already feeling the oncoming brain fog as she continued her circlings, and without giving it any thought, your hands reached out, caressing her cheeks as she smiled down at you proudly.

Looking into her eyes, your mouth hung open as you let out every moan that surfaced as she circled your clit, going round and round till you felt like you were dizzy, but it wasn’t going to be enough. You were greedy. You needed more from her, more of her.

“Natalie, please,” you managed, your expression straining with every swipe. She shooshed you, cooing so gently as she nodded.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m getting there. You’re being so patient,” she finally moved on from your clit to test the waters of your entrance, which you knew was embarrassingly soaked by now. But Natalie didn't mind. She seemed to enjoy the way her fingers glided in with ease and how you let out another shuddering moan against her ear. After some adjustment, she began to pump and curl her fingers in a timely rhythm with the rocking of your hips.

She fawned at the way your eyes rolled back as her palm met your already sensitive clit, cooing muffled praise amongst the sound of your moans.

“That’s right. Keep up those pretty faces for me,” she purred just before she began messily kissing your jaw. After all these years, it still amazed you how she had you memorized. Fucking you was like riding a bike. Natalie never seemed to forget what she was doing. You tightened around her fingers, thighs squeezing around her hand to make sure you weren't going anywhere as you climbed your high.

Natalie groaned against your throat as the feeling but kept going. She’d moved so she was laying beside you, her head buried into your neck, biting at your shoulder as she grew increasingly aroused just by listening to the sounds from your throat and your cunt. Realizing how close she was to you among your building haze, you managed to think it wasn’t enough. So in a moment of desperation, thanks to your impending orgasm, you rolled over just enough to force your mouth against hers as a hand grappled at her still-clothed breast, slipping your fingers under the red lace to find hard, sensitive nipples waiting for you.

You strummed over her nipple with your thumb, and Natalie let out an unfamiliar, strangulated sound that ended in an animalistic whimper. The feeling caused her to pump harder into you and ultimately was the final push to send you over the edge with a similar howling cry as you curled in on yourself, your forehead falling to Natalie’s shoulder as you grappled at her bare arms. You could hear her hiss at the sting of your nails clawing at her skin as you started to come down.

Her hand slowed gradually as she continued to pump in and out, steadying you off of your high. She pulled away from you ever so slightly, nudging your thighs apart with her free hand to take her fingers back from you. She made a big show of licking her fingers clean till you gained enough self back to reach out, taking her wrist in hand and cleaning her fingers yourself. You watched her, doe-eyed and still hazy, as you let her fingers pass your lips, tongue running around her digits as you moaned at your taste. She appeared jealous watching the action but seemed to enjoy it nonetheless.

“Well, look at you,” she murmured under her breath with a turned smile. She sat up on her side, propping herself up with her elbow. You let her fingers go with a pop as they passed your lips, and she grinned as she wiped your spit off on her underwear. You smiled contently without saying a word as you reached up, brushing Natalie’s bangs from her forehead where they stuck with sweat. Your hand ran down her jaw, guiding her back to your lips for another long kiss. As the kiss went on, your hands began to wander, but she stopped you before you could make your way into her pants. She held your wrist and shook her head, kissing your palm.

“Not now. Just get some sleep,” she murmured, unclasping her bra from behind to throw it over the edge of the bed as she got up. She ducked away into your bathroom. You lie naked in the dark, listening to the sound of the tap turning on and running for some time before it turned off as she retired with wet cloth in hand. She helped you under the covers as she got in with you and slipped the warm rag between your legs, casually helping your clean up. The rag was also tossed to the floor with the rest of your clothes as Natalie crawled into bed with you. She didn’t often stay the night, but in your growing groggy state, you smiled, feeling her wrap around you, holding you tight. Maybe she wouldn’t stay, but for now, she was here and you were going to be content with that.

#◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ kay's at it again♡#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets x reader #fanfiction requests #fic request #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

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rosewaterandivy · 8 months

Text

10. a kiss is not enough

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

W.C.: 4.5K

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, cursing, sexual situations - SMUT & idolatry (my usual bullshit), real-talk with Nancy Wheeler, idiots still being idiots, Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance.

A/N: Holy shit, I can't believe we've come to the end (or is it 👀) of this series! When I started this, I had no clue how many people would respond to Trouble and Steve's idiots-to-lovers story - but I'm so glad that they did! This series will always be near and dear to my heart, for a variety of reasons, but primarily for the people it brought into my life (here's lookin' at you, babe!). This isn't a goodbye from Trouble and Steve so much as a see you later - don't hate me too much! Poetry excerpt from John Keats. 18+ mature content (minors dni). Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated, please let me know what you thought; enjoy & thanks for reading! 💜

series masterlist | playlist - newly updated!

Trouble’s playlist from Steve: trouble will find me

Steve's playlist from Trouble: rebel without a clue

previous || epilogue

Now, May, Finals Week

“Just think about it, kid,” Hopper says on his way out your classroom door. He’d requested a meeting during your conference block, when normally he’d amble in under some pretense just to shoot the shit.

You nod, at a loss for words. It’s not like you needed yet another thing on your plate— waiting to hear back from admissions and not spilling to Steve or the gang was bad enough.

Yeah, you’d applied for grad school (even though grad students were the worst) and Hop had been contacted as a reference, which prompted his little visit today. Apparently, the district had approved a stipend and sabbatical for faculty furthering their education in graduate school.

“I’d like to recommend you,” Hop said matter of factly, sitting in a desk across from yours. “Maybe not for the sabbatical until you’re further along in the program, writing your thesis and whatnot.”

“I, uh–” you stumbled to find the words. “Cart, horse. I haven’t been accepted yet.”

He leveled you with a look, “Are you shittin’ me? Of course you’re getting in.”

You swallowed audibly and busied yourself emptying your desk for the summer, “Well, time will tell I suppose.”

“This isn’t—” Hopper paused in thought. “This isn’t about Harrington, is it?”

“Huh,” you nearly yelled, clutching the cardboard box for dear life. You had been so careful too.

He cracks a smile, “I saw the pair of you at graduation, you think you’re so slick.”

That brings a smile to your face, good ol’ Hop sussing out the goings on like he’d never left the force.

“It’s nothing.” You assure him, “We haven’t— We’re professionals, okay?”

“I know,” he nods, voice lowering as if he could spook you. “I’m happy for you, really.”

A small smile breaks across your face, “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

Finals done and grades posted, you’d never been so happy to get home. Had plans to pour yourself onto the couch and not move for 72 hours.

But life (and Steve) had other plans.

He was sorting through the mail, chucking envelopes into various piles on the countertop. The loft was quiet that afternoon— Eddie had a gig in Indy that evening and Robin was crashing at Vickie’s for the night. Steve hummed a tune to himself, the occasional slap of paper hitting the granite punctuating it.

“Oh hey,” Steve turns with a large envelope in hand, “This looks important.” Tosses it with freakish accuracy, the white paper landing with a thwack where your shorts had ridden up against your thigh.

Distracted by whatever drama was unfolding on TV— something about a crew working on chartered private boats— you mindlessly slip your thumb beneath the lip of the envelope and tear it open.

It’s only once you’ve pulled the papers from it that you glance to see what’s what. The university’s crest shines like a beacon, your thumb worrying over the topmost letter. Steve, the bastard, has stopped his mail sorting and turned toward you.

He leans lazily against the counter, a knowing smirk fixed on his lips. You scramble up from the couch with the papers, too nervous to see for yourself. “Here,” you say, thrusting the envelope and documents to his chest. “Can you—”

Pulling you to his chest with an arm, he brushes his lips against the crown of your head. “Sure, honey.” You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest— warm and familiar.

“You know,” he drawls, “The big envelope generally means something good, right?”

“I know,” muffled against his shirt.

He chuckles, hand coming up to cradle your head. Steve clears his throat, reads the opening of the letter in his best announcer voice. “Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that…”

The rest is drowned out by the rushing of blood in your ears, the tears pooling in your eyes breaking free to cascade down your cheeks. He squeezes you tight abandoning the acceptance letter and letting it flutter to the floor in favor of drawing you closer. Steve kisses you, licking your own tears into your mouth, your taste onto your tongue. And it’s so weirdly hot that your heart starts fluttering again, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

Because of course, just as things were going right something had to come and throw a wrench into things.

Plans for lazing in the early summer forgotten, the next few days saw you coming and going from the university campus for orientation, meetings with faculty, so on and so forth. As you were leaving the grad student mixer, a professor peeled off from a group of faculty to flag you down with a call of your name.

You turn, not recognizing them from the English department. She’s an older woman, has maybe a few years on your mother, and is swathed in a lovely linen dress— the cool elegance of minimalist style.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Holland,” she says shaking your hand. “I’m on the admissions committee and was very impressed with your work on Dante Alighieri.”

“Oh, thanks!”

“And you studied Italian as an undergrad?”

“Certo.”

That brings a smile to her face. “Perfetto,” she says with a perfect Italian accent and waves over another faculty member. “I only ask because there’s a summer intensive in Italy beginning next week that I think you’d be perfect for.”

Your mind reels. The new professor introduces himself and echoes Dr. Holland’s sentiments— a summer session of classes in Italy, in partnership with Università di Bologna, the oldest university in operation in the world. Scholarships that would cover the cost of tuition, travel, and accommodations for you to peruse.

What the fuck.

Vision swimming, you somehow come back to the conversation at hand. Dr. Holland presses a folder to your hand, “I know you were planning on taking the introductory grad school courses over the summer, but I hope you’ll consider joining us in Italy instead.”

You nod, gobsmacked and make your way to the car. Settling into the sweltering seat, you start the car and call Nancy. If anyone would know what to say in this situation, it would be her.

“That’s the thing,” you sigh, wine glass in hand as you slump on Nancy’s couch. “We’re not anything, haven’t discussed it. I mean, sure, we fuck like rabbits, but aside from that?”

She blows a raspberry and sips from her glass. “He’s in love with you, get over it.”

You jerk up, “Okay, maybe,” you allow. “But he hasn’t said anything.”

“And you won’t pony up to do it yourself?”

A scoff as you drain your glass. “I’m sorry, have you met me?”

Nancy laughs at that, loud and bright. “Unfortunately, yes!” She refills your glass before continuing, “Let’s be honest, you’re both hopeless when it comes to eachother.” She raises her brow before you can balk, “Full offense intended.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

She hums at that, head cocked to the side in thought. Her nail taps against the glass with a soft clink. A bite to her lips before she heaves a sigh, “Sometimes he just needs a push.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “I am absolutely not telling him he’s bullshit, if that’s what you’re after.”

Nancy, to her credit, winces uncomfortably at the memory. “No, no,” a shake of her head. “Absolutely not, you would never.” She sets her glass down carefully, giving you her full attention. “What I’m getting at is this: do you want to be something with Steve?”

She lets the question hang in the air between you.

“Because if you don’t know Trouble, you should back away now.” A low warning tone. “You’re it for him, have been since he laid eyes on you, but you’re both too scared to do anything about it.”

You drain your glass to the dregs and hastily take your leave. At the sound of the door closing, Nancy grabs her phone and brings it to her ear, “Hey Harrington, I need a favor…”

Returning from a less than helpful hang session at Nancy’s, you find a post-it note left on your bedroom, door that reads ‘meet me at our spot on lover’s lake. - s.’

Prizing it from the wood grain, you make your way back to the kitchen to scavenge for something to eat, in an effort to soak up the remnants of wine in your system. Opening the fridge you spy another post-it stuck to the topmost shelf: ‘get your ass down here, i’ll feed you soon enough. - s.’

With a laugh, you let the fridge door fall shut and grab your keys.

He can see you now, just barley, even in the indigo dark. Wonders to himself, how are you even real? How is it that you’re mine? An explanation that won’t ever come.

You slip into the cool water of Lover’s Lake like a dream, with nary a sound. Steve stumbles after you on the piles of clothing you’d left behind—bunched up denim shorts here, a threadbare tank-top over there, the silk of your thong musky and damp.

Fisting his shirt to pull it up and over his head, it falls to the forest floor behind him, jeans shucked off and tossed elsewhere, boxers joining your lingerie by the shore. His patience is wearing thin as you wade further and further from him out into the lake.

Little minx, he smiles and takes a breath before diving beneath the waves. Arms cutting through the placid water at a quick pace until he’s occupying the space between your bare legs, and coming up for air.

One arm drags you near, lazily pressing you close, tight around the small of your back as the tide breaks around your waist, minute movements almost imperceptible— the slow roll of your hips against his.

Water shallow enough to tread and keep you buoyant. Steve kisses you slow and sweet, pulling you flush against his chest while you writhe under the water’s surface. Body slick and wanton and arching into his own.

His dick jumps when you lift yourself to drape your arms around his shoulders. A sharp breath replaced with a shaky exhale as he brings his forehead to rest on yours, dark eyes taking in the exhilarated flush of your body.

And Steve knows, under his skin and tucked into the cage of his ribs, near the beating of his anguished heart, that you’re the only thing left in this world worth worshipping. To keep you, and render you a flightless bird, to clip your wings, would be all for naught.

He has to let you go again, and so soon after you found him. From perihelion to aphelion before the moon’s full turning. The soft curve of your throat drawn taut as you glance upward, marvelling at the stars and planets in the northern sky.

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Your voice is a husk, low and hoarse, in the dark. “Its loveliness increases, it will never pass into nothingness.” Your eyes, once fixed on the sea of stars above, shift to him once more.

Closer to the shoreline now, and unbeknownst to you, Steve had gently waded you both inshore, until he could draw you toward the dock.

You let him walk you back until you’re flush against a mooring pole, wood rough against your moon-bathed skin. Body yielding to him as both his hands slide beneath your bottom, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before he pulls you forward by the hips.

“S’okay, honey,” He mutters—right into your panting mouth with a sultry pull of his lips. “I’ve got you.”

“Steve,” You gasp, “This is unfair.” Your body jerks with every teasing kiss from his lips that he laves and sucks to the column of your throat.

He ignores you, crawling his hands onto your hips to keep you from squirming. Works his thigh in between your legs for good measure. Once you’re settled, he moves one hand to your center a finger trailing up and down your slippery folds. His mouth latches onto the spot that makes you keen, just behind your ear. You fist his hair in both hands at the same time he slips a digit inside.

But Steve doesn’t move. Other than his tongue’s soft licks on your neck and into your kiss-bitten mouth, he doesn’t move at all. He happily lets his finger rest inside of you, gathering your juices all over his hand.

You whimper, trying to shimmy against them, anything to create more contact. Its intrusion lights a terrible match inside of your body, and goddamn it, you want to a forest fire.

Calming breaths in and out. Steady head, steady heart. When you’re able to meet his gaze again, you take a moment to see him as he truly is: dappled in moonlight, forelock hanging in front of his eyes, his entire focus trained on you.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally lets you have another—adding one more thick finger inside, stretching you as he moves them both around, curling them, scissoring them, pumping them in and out.

Steve sucks enthusiastically on your sensitive skin and lips, fucks you with two fingers almost wildly, and your body responds with fervor. You gasp and moan, arching back into his hand, goosebumps blooming all over your shoulders and down your arms and legs.

You shake like a leaf in his arms, not knowing if it’s from the cool night air or due to the man before you.

Instead of increasing his pace, Steve continues to stroke you with his fingers, slowly prodding at your entrance with a third. Your eyes roll back and get lost in your head as you lean back with a whimper.

“Just trying to get you ready.” He murmurs, so soft and low that your heart stills.

Your legs wrap around his back loosely as he holds you still, his previous two fingers pushing inside gently. The third finger meets resistance as you tense up. “S-sorry,” You whisper, “I’m…”

Your head knocks back against the wooden pier. But you move his hand back and try again. He’s so tender and sweet with you as he turns his head to place kisses on your cheek and ear.

You blink owlishly, trying desperately to weave your threads of thought together. A shake of your head to rattle them loose. A sweet smile up to Steve, a barely there kiss to his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy, breaths heaving from your chest. Steve commits to memory the way your lids flutter when he touches you.

You gasp and moan, arching your chest into his and pulled as taut as a bow sting—back forming a crescent-shaped arc, a sliver of the moon radiant in the inky blue reflection of the water.

“C’mon, that’s it, honey. You’re so close. Almost there… Good girl… Good girl.”

With a cry, you come undone, rolling your hips every which way as you reach orgasm on Steve’s hand. His voice continues to praise you, lips kissing your sweat-slicked collar, bristles on his cheek and jaw tickling your sensitive skin.

Coming back to yourself, you shiver bodily. And Steve looks at you as if you hold infinities in the palms your hands.

You reach for him reverently, desperate for his shape of beauty and noble nature. A dream realized, a wish granted, gentle and true. You feel brave enough to shift and stroke him with determination.

You whisper, "Missed you," eliciting a shudder from him as your palm grips him tenderly.

Relishing in the temperature of his body, you sigh. Spreading the beaded precome at the tip of his cock up and down his shaft. Steve groans, head falling to yours.

“Missed you more,” He hums, eyes heavy-lidded and lustful.

Gasping as Steve guides your hips with one hand, and grips himself with the other. Slowly and without haste, he fills you inch by inch until he’s so deep inside you think he could burst from your throat.

You whimper. There aren’t enough words to describe it— the gratifying sting, an all-encompassing and chilling burn, a mystifying and utter fullness that nearly brings tears to your eyes. You’re fearful to move, to lose this sensation, and afraid to feel what comes next. But you know that you want it.

Steve kisses your lips tenderly, babbling praise, whispering affirmations, soothing the shock that surges up your spine with his warm palm. Slowly, he rocks you back, as water lapping against your thighs, holds onto your body with one hand, smoothing the hair that falls over your face with the other.

You’re gripping him so tightly it takes some effort to slide even an inch of him out— and there’s many inches of him. Sweat collects on your brow as you grind, dragging against his length, forcing shudders to course all over both your bodies. “Is this okay?” you cry, delirious, “Steve? You feel so good.”

He moves in you, like a prayer.

A groan escapes him as his hand squeezes your back just a little too hard. He’s holding back, trying to prolong your pleasure, but his own is chasing him down, only a few steps away from pouncing.

You coax it towards him with faster snapping of your hips against his, clawing at his back, nibbling on his ear. “Come on, lover… just a little more.”

With a grunt and a shudder, and a hard kiss to your lips that makes your teeth clack against each other, Steve thrusts one last time as deeply as possible, riding out his orgasm as he pulls your hips against his.

The two of you feel rooted together, sticky with sweat and so tightly flushed that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. Your body slumps as you drape your arms over his neck. Steve turns his head to kiss your shoulder before making the effort to pull away, your shaky legs held in his secure grasp.

The black slik of night gives way to the earth’s rotation, stars and moon bending to the will of gravity. Splashes in its silent, dark depths as you broach the shore. A little shaky on your feet, but he’s close behind, sultry and brilliant like the summer morning quickly approaching.

Whispers and murmurs tucked between fervent kisses as you dress. Fabric sticking to damp skin as his hands roam. Frenetic movements as he backs you up against the car, the coolness of it causing you to shiver.

“You should do it,” he rasps against your lips. “The Italy thing, you always loved it there.”

“How did you–” you sputter.

You can’t see him roll his eyes, but you just know. “Nance, who else?”

The warmth of Steve’s body burns against you, a hand threading through your hair half-convinced the moon is hiding there, hanging like a jewel in the night. And you’re a mess when you kiss him. Your breath is warm and so sweet, and the center of his chest squirms like something alive.

In that moment, you love him but can’t tell him, not yet. You decide the sun that will kiss freckles to his face will do it for you.

The song of summer sings out as you load your suitcase into Nancy’s car a few days later. The trunk slams closed and your back is pressed against his chest, his arm hanging casually around your collar. It is the end of May, the first bloom of summer balmy on your skin.

Steve had not taken the news of Nancy driving you to the airport well.

At all.

A sponged necklace of kisses to your throat as the light creeps in. Sheets kicked to the edge of the bed so you’re tangled up in him. Skin already glinting gold in the summer sun. Twisting in his hold, desperate to glance at the time. “Steve,” muffled against the heft of his shoulder, “I gotta go, Nance will be here soon.”

The turn of his weight bearing down, trapping your body under his. A cruel circle of his hips has you shuddering. His breath ghosts along your skin, “Baby, baby please.” Nose trailing down from your sternum to the swell of your stomach. Pausing there for lips to lave kisses on the curves that trailed to your hips.

Eyes dark and heady with promise, “Just a taste.” Lips and mouth delving lower now, fingers parting the cleave of your cunt with a squelch. He hooks them back into his mouth with a groan. “Mmm,” he slurs, drunk off your arousal. “You taste good, sweetheart,” His nose bumps against your clit, “Like honey.”

Breath stuttering in the cage of your ribs, you fist his hair in one hand and tug. Steve moans overtly, pupils blown wide while he’s face deep in pussy. “Steve,” Your voice trembles. He glances up, smoldering and glorious, drinking you up. “Ah—fuck,” before you’re overtaken again.

You’re desperate, and he can hear it in your voice. A quiver in your throat, you swallow thickly mouth falling open in a pant. His fingers work into you easily, dragging exquisitely along your channel—warm and wet, only growing more so with every thrust of his hand. You mewl, hips bucking up as he sucks your swollen clit.

Legs thrown over his shoulders, as he cants your pelvis forward, arm heavy against your stomach to bully you in place. “Sweet girl,” He coos, lips ruddy and wet with your slick. “Doin’ so well for me.” You shiver in his hold, sunbeams hazy with orange glow, the refracting light makes a halo to crown him and for a second you feel blind.

Then you feel something pulled taut in your belly. A chord stretching like a rubber band before it snaps. The wind up is excruciating, Steve’s litany of devotions falling in hushed murmurs from his lips. His fingers plunging up into the chasm between your legs, pulling away wetter each time.

He bends back down, tongue circling your clit at a dizzying pace. A third finger slides in impossibly, a keen igniting from your throat—high and whimpering. God, you’re so close. You babble, hands scrambling purchase against his dewy skin.

“Come,” he commands, “Come for me right now and I’ll fuck you through it, how you like. Then I’ll make you come again and we can go.”

“Oh my god,” you thrash on the bed, hair sticking to the sheen of your face, hanging on by a thread as his fingers drive into you, on a mission to break either the bed frame or your brain, both were fine. In a rush. Can’t quit now. A little bit more. Your entire body is folded against him, insides fluttering desperately, maddeningly.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” Steve promises, “You stumbling in there.”

The image flashes through your lust-addled brain, the telltale sign of him screwing you stupid— lips swollen, legs wobbly, outfit crumpled up, smelling like him and sex in front of all your friends.

“You want it, don’t you, want them to know you’re all mine?” He smears your wet around the sides of your cunt— spit, slick— up to your clit. And then he pushes you like a button, flicking the pad of his thumb upwards and grins at the way you jerk in time.

“Stevie,” you mewl, “Steve.” The syllable breaks, your panting comes out in choked babbling.

You drily sob out something broken, a tiny echo of affirmation as he keeps fucking into you like he could break through. He’s really abused your pussy this morning, maybe gone too far, but every time you come like this, it’s like he’s seeing something holy.

“Oh my god…!” It’s a small shout as you shatter, and it makes Steve’s spine light up as you rub your face further into the pillow.

“Praying to me, sweetheart?” but doesn’t stop those tiny, hard circles, doesn’t stop melting into your body, his dick pulsing as he ruts against the sheets. “You can keep doing that,” he urges, “I like that.”

So, you’re not surprised when the two of you stumble into a nearly finished breakfast, as predicted, in a terrible disarray, and Robin crosses herself before promising, “I’m getting you two a goddamn chastity belt.”

On the couch, Eddie clicks the remote to a new channel, snapping his ring-clad fingers with an offhanded, “A-fucking-men.”

As much as you tried to tell yourself that this wasn’t goodbye but instead see you soon, it didn’t stick. But the ache in your gut did—low and menacing, growling like an animal.

Eddie and Robin were easy, promises to stay in touch and bring back the best candy. Your parents were less so, tight hugs and dried tears on cheeks.

Steve, however, you needed to brace yourself for. Short of chaining yourself to Nancy’s car, you weren’t sure how you’d escape with your dignity intact. He was already kissing on you, soft and sweet, as Nancy slid into the driver’s seat while Eddie and Robin waved goodbye walking back inside.

You slip from his grasp in a flash, pulling him by the belt loops to knock hips. “Stevie, lover mine,” you sing, his palms cupping your ass as his hands slide into your back pockets.

Lover.

What a word.

You think about it every waking second—the way he stretches in the morning, how he sings in the shower, dances in the kitchen, smiles and beams at anyone who passes by—how good he is.

How you love him.

“Mm—” raspy, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Feet walking you closer and closer and you’re pressed against him. Nosing along the column of his neck, nipping at the delicate skin there, watching as his throat bobs when he swallows.

Hands free themselves from denim confines, a thumb caresses the small of your back. Steve pries your hand from his chest, and brings it to his mouth, placing a tender kiss against your palm.

You hum as his lips brush your skin, observing as he meanders to the thin flesh of your wrist. Hazel eyes near golden in the morning sun as Steve looks to you, face open and fond. Lips featherlight when they kiss your thundering pulse.

Only then do you start to break.

You thought you were prepared. But it steals the breath from your lungs, levelling you to ruin, a creeping sense of hopelessness in its wake.

He’s quick to notice, crushing you to his chest and hand cradling your head. Soothing murmurs of “S’okay honey, we’ll be alright,” and the rasp of your name. Fingers brushing hair from your face with a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And it is hard to leave him, but you can do difficult things.

Forehead bent to yours, back warm in the sun’s decorous rays, a searing tear-laden kiss and you’re off. Turned back in your seat to see him recede in the distance until he’s a mere speck on the horizon as Nancy tugs you forward.

All the goodbyes had all been said, save one thing lodged in the depths of your throat.

I love you.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfiction #the kids aren't alright rosewaterandivy #modern!steve harrington #teacher!steve

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louellaby · 9 months

Text

FORGET-ME-NOT

REPLACED!MC AU

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

W A R N I N G

May contain bad grammar, limited vocabulary, and OOC characters. Please mind that English is not my first language, and it takes a lot of courage for me to post due to my anxiety and paranoia.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

P R O L O G U E

「 The Mysterious Acceptance Letter 」

U N K N O W N

Greetings, Lady Soley.

Y O U

Uhm... hello?

Who is this?

U N K N O W N

That is not important at the moment. We have other matters to discuss, you see.

Y O U

Uh, no, we don't!

I don't know who you are, nor how you got my number, so I'm not saying anything to you.

U N K N O W N

Well, it can't be helped then.

Am I right to assume you've received a letter this afternoon?

Your maids must have delivered it to you the moment you stepped in the property.

Y O U

Are you saying that it was you who sent it?

U N K N O W N

That is somewhat correct, yes, but it wasn't mine to write.

You see, my master has decided you would be a great candidate for the exchange program at our academy. The letter would send you here within a week, so please be prepared by then.

Please bring whatever you may need for the entire year. In fact, it's recommended.

Y O U

Wait, wait, wait!

What are you talking about?

You're not making sense here, you know!

How was I selected for a school when I hadn't even registered for anything?

And just who do you think you are telling me what to do?

I am not going anywhere a stranger tells me to.

Goodbye now, and you're blocked.

————————————————————————

Loud stomping of a young lady could be heard through the halls of their mansion despite the carpeted flooring. Everyone knew what she was feeling and decided to keep their distance from her until she reached her destination: the office.

"My Lady, I believe it is past your bedtime," the butler who only arrived at the doors himself called out to the girl who huffed upon seeing him. "Do you have business with the Lord?"

"He's my father, Heath. I don't need any reason, nor permission to see him whenever I want to." She replied, placing her hands on both handles of the doors. "I certainly need no scolding from you. Remind yourself of your position in this household."

Without another word, the lady opened the doors herself and entered without waiting for the butler's response. He quietly sighed when he was sure no one was around and whispered, "Yes, of course."

————————————————————————

"Father!" The girl pushed open another set of doors that blocked her way, entering the room within the office that was filled with books and papers. "I knew you'd be up this late again!"

"Soley?" An exhausted groan came from behind a stack of books resting on top of a wide desk. The man who sat there had dark circles under his eyes, and the wrinkles on his worn-out face were visible. Even then, he smiled like nothing was wrong when he saw his only daughter marching her way towards him. "How can I help my sweet little buttercup?"

Soley slammed the letter she received onto the desk and pouted. "I want to know where this letter came from. Find the sender and threaten them to not bother me anymore!"

The man looked at his daughter with a puzzled expression. His mind was working a little slower than normal due to fatigue, but he did his best to keep up with his daughter's nonsense. "I'm sorry, what? I didn't know you received a letter. From whom is it?"

"That's what I want to know, Father! I also got a message from an unknown number! You didn't apply me into any academies without my knowledge, now did you?" Soley placed her phone on the desk with the chat from the unknown number open and clear for her father to see.

As the man read through the messages and the contents of the letter, someone else entered the room with a tray of tea and desserts in hand. "My apologies if I disturbed you, my lord, but I have your snacks ready. I also have your favourites, my lady, if you're staying a while."

The girl huffed as she crossed her arms. She only came there for information, but she knew she wouldn't get it in such a short time considering the state of her father.

Not that she cared about that.

"Fine, serve me the tea and sweets, Heath," she sighed and plopped herself onto the soft couch that rested on the side of the room. "I'm not leaving until I get the information I need."

Her father looked up from the letter and eyed his daughter with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, darling, but this could take a few days— maybe even longer."

"I don't have that much time, Father! I can't keep myself occupied with this nonsense, I have a party I need to prepare for! The stranger said that I only have a week left before I get whisked away!"

"And how would that actually go, my lady?"

All eyes darted towards the butler, who poured tea into the girl's cup. Soley narrowed her eyes at him, but he just looked at her with a slight smile, clearly hiding a laugh. "What do you mean, Heath...?"

"It is exactly as I asked," he answered, "How would they go taking you away without our knowledge? You are heavily protected by your talented guards the whole day through, and your room is kept guarded from the outside. No one would be able to take you away with ease."

"Well, there's telepor.... ta... tion...."

The silence after her argument increased the heat on the girl's face. She realised what she said and felt absolutely embarrassed. Teleportation? How absurd!There's no such thing as that, and the butler was right! No one could successfully take her by force. Not with her being fully guarded 24/7.

With a red face and gritted teeth, Soley got up from the couch, took both her phone and the letter with her and stomped her way out of the office, leaving the two men watch her back as she disappeared from their sight.

She didn't know she'd be reassured just like that when she only wanted information about the sender.

"Good evening, lady Soley," The night guards in front of her room greeted her as she approached the doors that they opened for her. "We wish you sweet dreams."

Heath is right. I'm protected.

No one can get me, and magic doesn't exist.

The girl threw herself on her bed and looked at the open letter she hovered above her face.

————————————————————————

Greetings to Lady Soley Day,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to attend the Royal Academy of Diavolo, or RAD, as we call it, as an exchange student for our current programme amongst all three worlds.

You are expected to stay for an entire year, fully protected by the Seven Rulers of the Devildom, along with the ambassador from the Human Realm. Safety would never be a concern, we assure you.

Attached to this letter is a summoning circle that will be activated in a week's time. Please prepare everything you would need for your stay.

We are looking forward to seeing you!

Sincerely,

RAD Student Council

————————————————————————

Now that she actually read it herself, the letter sounded stupid and unrealistic. She embarrassed herself in front of her father for this reason?

Little did she know, a group of demons, angels and humans down, down under, was already preparing for her arrival.

Just seven days left.

CHAPTER I 」

Hello, everyone! Loue here.

Thank you so much for reading and getting this far! I really hope you enjoyed it...! This is my very first post, and very first fanfic, so I'm here just sweating profusely because of how nervous I am.

Also, this is my first time posting on Tumblr, and I'm doing everything on my phone, so I'm still not familiar with stuff around here. Please bear with me.

Until next time! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me replaced mc au #obey me angst #Forget-Me-Not

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universitypenguin · 9 months

Text

Chapter 19

The Princess & the Lawyer

Summary: Princess tries to make things right with Lloyd. An arrest is made in the case and fur flies when Detective Roth meets Lloyd for the first time.

Word Count: 4,643

Masterlist

Warnings: References to stalking, murder, serial killings, criminal investigations into violent crimes

Author’s Note: The winds from the outer bands of Hurricane Hillary are just starting to blow up to my area and it knocked out my electricity for a few hours (thanks, Spectrum Internet! 😤) Fortunately, it’s back on now and I can finally post this chapter!

Chapter XIX

Sunlight gleamed off the slow-moving Shenandoah River and reflected across the valley. Lloyd’s cabin was perched overlooking the basin where the river wound around a bend and slowed to a crawl. From your current position on the front porch, the river looked more like a sheet of glass than a body of water. Lloyd had brought you here after you’d been released from the hospital. Landon arrived the next day with a suitcase of your clothes and took up quarters in the basement. His presence had been a welcome relief from the thick fog of tension hanging over the cabin.

“Are you going to talk to him soon?” Landon asked.

You tucked your knees under your chin, wrapped your arms around them, and stared at the ex-SEAL without really seeing him. The idea of apologizing had been circulating on a loop in your head for the past seventy-two hours.

“I don’t know what to say. It’s like there’s a wall of ice between us.”

“Yeah. I didn’t realize a person could get frostbite in the middle of August until I spent a few hours with you two. Is this how you normally fight?”

“No. Lloyd usually blows up. The only person I’ve seen act like this is Zach. And we know how that usually goes.”

Landon winced. There was no softening the burnt of Zach’s temper. Reason and appeasement had no effect on it - once he turned into Jack Frost all you could do was wait until he de-thawed. Landon leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrest.

“Finding out the way he did was hard on him.”

You shut your eyes as if doing so would block out the truth of his statement.

“I know. Not telling him was wrong, but the risk of him losing control and doing something reckless was too much. I was trying to protect him.”

Landon’s eyes softened. “Everyone knows how much you try to shield Lloyd, but you can’t always stand between him and the rest of the world.”

“I’ve seen him spiral before. I don’t want to do anything that would send him down that path again… but here we are. He’s barely looked at me for more than three seconds in the last few days and he’s treating me like a barely tolerable houseguest.”

“You have to talk to him. It’s been three days and quite frankly, I’m sick of walking on eggshells around you two. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. That’s why you’re not seeing an explosion of temper.”

“He’s never been like this before and I don’t know what to say. I’ve been trying to figure it out for days.”

Landon shot you a sardonic look. “Princess, get it through your thick skull: Lloyd isn’t angry, he’s hurt. You’ve never seen him like this before because you’re the only one who could make him feel like this.”

“Trust me, underneath that hurt, he’s angry. Lloyd is always angry.”

“Fear lies at the center of anger. He’s afraid your relationship is broken and that’s why he can’t look at you. Come on, take one for the team - and by team I mean myself. Go talk to him.”

“How do I face him after what I did?”

“He won’t bite,” Landon said.

“No, but his razor blade tongue should be registered as a weapon.”

Landon’s phone buzzed on the unfinished porch railing. He checked the message.

“If you’re going to apologize anytime soon, do it now. Zach is on his way up with Bishop. They just stopped in town for gas and they’ll be here in thirty minutes or so.”

You glanced through the window into the living room where Lloyd sat on the couch, laptop in front of him, scowling. Your stomach pitched at the prospect of the conversation you needed to have.

Landon stood up, his chair scraping against the unfinished planks of the porch floor. “I’ll take a walk down to the river and give you guys some privacy.”

“You’re leaving me alone with him?!”

“You made this mess, you clean it up.”

“If you hear screaming, come rescue me,” you muttered.

Landon crossed the yard to the trail leading down to the river basin and disappeared into the thick wilderness.

You were suddenly alone. Your hands clenched until your fingernails dug into your palms. There wouldn’t be a good time to do this. You’d never feel ready for it, and Landon was right - walking on eggshells was exhausting. You pushed to your feet, pulse thrumming in double time and turned the knob on the cabin door with trembling fingers, steeling yourself for the ugly confrontation.

Lloyd didn’t look up when you shut the door. He was too engrossed in his laptop. You paused and took in his furrowed brow as he tapped the down arrow to scroll through a page. Finally, when it became clear he wasn’t going to acknowledge your presence until you demanded it, you stepped forward.

“Lloyd? I need to talk to you.”

His finger paused on the keyboard and even though he didn’t look up, you pressed forward.

“I didn’t tell you about the stalker because I thought Aiden was behind the messages and I didn’t want you to react impulsively. I figured he was upset about losing his job and had decided to take his frustration out on me. That’s why I got in touch with his father. It seemed like the most efficient way to handle things.”

Before you could continue, Lloyd’s scowl deepened, and he resumed tapping the keyboard.

“Where’s the transcript of my interviews with Dr. Nguyen? I thought I saved them to my files.”

“The interviews? Um… there should be a copy in your email.”

He grunted and began typing. A few clicks later, his chin tilted up.

“Found it.”

You pressed a hand to your hot cheek, took a deep breath, and marshaled your courage.

“Lloyd, I’m trying to talk to you. I want to explain-”

He wasn’t listening. His fingers were dancing over the keyboard and he was blatantly ignoring you. Peaking over his shoulder you saw the website of the local news station pulled up on the laptop.

“I need to catch this broadcast,” Lloyd said tersely.

Your shoulders slumped. Repressing a sigh, you sat down and decided to wait him out.

The anchor’s voice filled the small living room, announcing their lead story - a thunderstorm warning and flood watch. You settled in as they turned to their human interest story about Harmony High School students giving back to the community with a fundraiser for the local food bank. Then the ‘Breaking News’ banner appeared on screen and you sat up straighter as you read it.

“Now, to the latest developments in a breaking news story. The arrest of a suspected serial killer has stunned the community of Harmony, Virginia. Leo McKenzie, an evidence clerk with the State Police, has been taken into custody and charged with twelve counts of murder.”

You gasped.

“Hush, I’m trying to listen,” Lloyd said.

“The case drags up ghosts of the past. In 2003, Dr. Shun Nguyen attracted international attention to the town of Harmony when he was arrested and charged with the murder of his girlfriend. Nguyen was widely considered to be responsible for the rash of disappearances of several local women between 1999 and 2001, culminating in the murder of his girlfriend in 2002. However, his conviction for that crime was overturned in 2013…”

The reporter droned on as you watched, growing confused as the cameras showed the Fairfax County Sheriff arresting a man in his mid-sixties with graying blond hair. He was stocky and dressed in a rumpled green button down and khaki slacks. His expression was slack with shock as he was escorted to a Sheriff’s cruiser.

“McKenzie’s arrest has cast a fresh spotlight on these unsolved cases, igniting painful memories for the families affected. We’ll keep you updated on this developing story throughout the night. Stay tuned for more right here on-”

Lloyd muted the video. You turned to him and for the first time in days he met your gaze.

“Leo McKenzie? The guy who leaked information for the Rolling Stone article?”

“He’s not a bad suspect,” Lloyd said. “Zach found evidence that he’s tampered with evidence before. Plus, he went out of his way to de-stabilize our relationship with the Roth when he contacted Peter Shaw and framed us for leaking confidential information.”

“You think he’s the killer?”

“No. There’s a few holes in the logic, but I’m waiting to see if those can be resolved. The fact that he leaked information to journalists and tried to manipulate the narrative around the case is significant.”

You tried not to be surprised at how quickly Lloyd had gotten up to speed in a few days.

“This was a calculated move,” Lloyd said, his gaze returning to the muted news cast. “There’s enough agencies gunning for the credit on this case that it wouldn’t have taken much more than a well-timed tip-off to persuade the Fairfax Sheriff to make an arrest.”

You nodded. “Right.”

“It’s impressive, really,” Lloyd mused. “Zach is quite the strategist. I hadn’t planned on making a maneuver this bold, but if it gets McKenzie off the street…”

Your mouth fell open. “Zach is behind the arrest?”

“He didn’t run it by me, but I suspect this is what he’s coming up here to discuss. Leo McKenzie crossed him with that journalist and even though it probably wasn’t intended as a personal slight, Zach’s not the forgiving kind.”

“And I thought I was pissed off by Roth’s decision,” you murmured.

“Zach didn’t blame Roth. He went for the root cause of the problem: McKenzie.”

Put like that, the connection between Zach’s interference and Leo’s arrest was undoubtable. You glanced at the clock and saw that he’d be arriving soon. The deadline refocused you on your goal.

“Lloyd, as I was saying, I want to explain why I didn’t tell you what was going on. When I thought Aiden was responsible, I didn’t want to put you in a situation where you’d react before we’d gathered all the facts. I thought what I was doing was appropriate, but in retrospect…”

He stood up and paced to the window and stood there, staring at the driveway. You heard the crunch of wheels over gravel and understood what he was watching for. Zach had arrived. Your eyes closed on a wave of regret.

Great. Lloyd wasn’t listening to a word you had just said.

“Zach brought company.”

*****

Bishop and Detective Roth arrived with Zach.

They shuffled into the living room with the rugged-faced detective trailing behind. He was dressed exactly the same as he’d been the last two times you’d seen him. A white collared shirt, striped red tie, and his holstered weapon prominently displayed on his right hip. His nod of greeting to you was barely perceptible. In response, you crossed your arms over your chest.

Childish, perhaps, but you were still irritated with him and he was interrupting your conversation with Lloyd. Bishop made introductions and Lloyd and Roth immediately began sizing each other up like boxers dancing around a ring.

“I looked into your previous work, Mr. Hansen. You’re quite the character. It seems your investigative techniques involve more theatrics than actual evidence gathering.”

“And your speciality seems to be old cases and old gossip. Slow and methodical hasn’t paid off in the Nguyen case, now, has it?”

“Slow and methodical is standard procedure and I’m a standard procedure kind of guy. It helps me maintain my credibility, which reminds me, your kidnapping conviction got you disbarred, didn’t it?”

Lloyd smirked. “So, you’ve been through my international portfolio as well.”

Roth studied him with an inscrutable expression, then the corner of his lip twitched. “What did you have to do with Leo McKenzie’s arrest? The Sheriff wasn’t supposed to take him into custody until next week.”

“I’d love to take credit but it wasn’t me. However, McKenzie is at the top of my suspect list.”

“What position?” Roth asked.

“Second place.”

Bishop lips pursed. “I can’t believe Sheriff Cerano swept in and arrested him so quickly, considering the history of this case.”

“He’s got enough evidence to hold him, thanks to my team,” Detective Roth said.

“What are the charges?” Zach asked.

“Tampering with evidence, improper release of classified information, and other charges related to his conduct as an evidence clerk. I’d like to apologize for jumping to conclusions and accusing the two of you.”

You uncrossed your arms.

“Are we good?” Roth asked you.

You tilted your head. “Consider yourself on probationary forgiveness. I’ll let you know in a few days if it becomes permanent.”

Roth looked at Lloyd. “Is she always so hardheaded?”

“Sometimes. Usually it’s directed at me, so this is a nice change of pace. Let’s sit down and compare notes.”

Despite the earlier verbal sparring, or perhaps because of it, Lloyd and Roth put aside their differences and shifted into professional mode as everyone assembled in the living room.

“I consider Leo McKenzie our prime suspect,” Detective Roth said.

Bishop scowled. “Why?”

“There’s long term storage of the surveillance camera footage in the evidence lockers. We were able to confirm that McKenzie wasn’t at work on the night of April 18th.”

“Was he scheduled to work?” Zach asked.

“Yes, swing shift, but he swapped with a co-worker. The co-worker reports McKenzie told them he was going to a concert,’” Roth said.

Lloyd crossed his legs. “A concert in the middle of the week? That’s ridiculous. Is there any other evidence against him?”

“He owns a .22 caliber rifle and matches the description of the person Mr. Corbin saw at Shun’s house on that same night, April 18th. He’s been known to smoke occasionally and frequented the same coffee shop where Julia’s book club met.”

“What about access to the chemicals to dissolve her corpse?” Lloyd asked.

“His work as an evidence clerk might explain that,” Bishop said.

“Technically speaking, all the ingredients he needed are available over the counter,” Roth said.

Lloyd grunted. “What about knowledge of the area where the bodies were dumped?”

“He kayaks up there every summer and his uncle used to work in the concrete industry,” Roth said. “At the moment he’s our top suspect. The Sheriff was preparing to arrest him on charges of improperly handling evidence and obstruction of justice. That’s sufficient to hold him for a long while. Virginia law enforcement jointly decided that everyone would be safer if he was off the streets.”

“So, if you have your man, why are you here?” Lloyd said.

“Because knowing he had the opportunity, means, and access to commit a crime isn’t the same thing as being able to prove he did it. That’s why I need your help. We have a window of opportunity to prove a solid case against him, but it won’t be easy. Bishop and I have discussed it with my superiors and we’re inviting you down to Harmony on a full-time basis to assist with the investigation. You’ll even get your own shared office.”

“It’s the conference room, isn’t it?” Zach asked.

“A windowless conference room,” Roth said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

The Detective’s gaze shifted to you and he tilted his head. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’m very interested in seeing the database you were working on for the case.”

*****

The guests stayed for dinner but left quickly afterwards to get back before the storm made landfall. Lloyd took a walk down to the river and you retreated to the living room where Landon was relaxing with his feet up.

“I take it apologizing didn’t go well?”

You sighed. “It didn’t go at all.”

“How come?”

“He wouldn’t hear me out. I managed three half apologies but he wouldn’t let me finish.”

“Are you going to try again, or call it a night?” Landon asked.

Your shoulders straightened. Where was your spine? Sure, all things considered, you weren’t at the top of your game this week, but the ability to make Lloyd listen was a skill you’d mastered a long time ago. If you couldn’t get through to him, then you had lost more of your self-confidence than you’d realized.

“I’m going down to the river.”

“Have fun…”

Lloyd was easy to find. He was on a bench by the water with a legal pad on his knee, reading a handful of loose leaf pages. As he read, he paused every now and then to consult his legal pad and twirl a pen around his fingers. You paused at the bottom of the concrete stairs that led down to the river basin and watched him from a distance.

His alabaster complexion was darker than usual from a summer of golfing and the week spent on the ranch. His thick hair ruffled a little in the wind because he hadn’t worn as much hair gel at the cabin, choosing to smooth his hair back instead of plastering it into place like usual.

You liked the more relaxed look on him. You wished the image matched his mood but the rigidity in his shoulders proved he was just as tense as he’d been since Tuesday.

When you approached he tucked the pages into his legal pad and clipped the pen to the pad. You sat down on the far end of the bench, leaving an arm’s length between you. The wind carried the scent of pine trees and the smell of rain hung in the air as storm clouds amassed in the southeast. The atmosphere between you held a quiet tension, an undercurrent of repressed anger. The gusting winds that rustled the leaves seemed to echo the mood. You shivered as a gust of wind cut through your blouse.

Lloyd leaned back. “You didn’t need to come all the way down here. It’s getting cold.”

“I’m fine,” you said, wrapping your arms around your torso. “I wanted to apologize. I guess my timing this afternoon wasn’t great. I was only halfway through when Zach arrived.”

“I was still too pissed at you to listen.”

“I gathered as much. I’m sorry for not telling you about the stalking. It was wrong of me to cover it up, especially for as long as I did.”

He sighed, eyes drifting to fixate on the water. “What was it? You thought I’d over react?”

Your hands twisted in your lap. “Yes. Your temper is a force of nature and you don’t have a great sense of self-preservation under the best conditions. You dive headfirst into danger without considering the consequences or your odds of survival.”

“Princess, I’ve faced much worse threats than a vertically challenged lunatic with sharp elbows. I can handle myself. Don’t worry about me.”

“But I do worry about you! I know you can take care of yourself, but as your friend it’s my job to protect you, too - including from yourself! When I decided not to tell you what was going on, that’s what I thought I was doing. After what happened on Tuesday, I know how wrong that was. I’m sorry for hurting you by holding back something I should’ve shared with you as soon as I was aware of it.”

“What was the other half of your apology? I think we got to about this point before I cut you off.”

“I’m sorry for not trusting you to respond with restraint and assuming you’d fly off the handle. Overall, you’ve taken this a lot more calmly than I thought you would.”

His left eyebrow arched. “Calmly? If you hadn’t willingly gotten in the car on Tuesday afternoon, I’d have thrown you in the trunk.”

“And compared to what I thought you might do, that was a very restrained reaction.”

Lloyd snorted. “Don’t be so sure. If Aiden had been your stalker I’d gladly have taken him apart with my bare hands. That’s part of what pissed me off. Your reasons for not telling me were valid. As much as I wanted to tear into you for it, I can’t deny that point. I guess I feel more disappointed than anything. I’ve always struggled with honesty, but with you, it was easy. I didn’t realize that trust was a one-way street.”

You groaned. “If this is you ‘not tearing into me’ I’d hate to have seen what you had in mind earlier.”

He shifted closer and a thick arm curled around your shoulders. You snuggled into his chest as another gust of wind kicked up.

“I really am sorry,” you said. “I’ll say it as many times as you want.”

“Since I’ve been giving you the cold shoulder for the past three days, I think we can call it even.”

You squeezed his waist and burrowed into his arms. “I promise to be more honest with you, even when I’m worried about your reaction.”

His lips brushed your temple. “I’ll try not to sulk so long next time you decide to bottle things up.”

“Is that a whiff of skepticism I’m sensing? You don’t think I’ll be honest?”

“You protect others, Princess. It’s in your nature. But your takeaway from this experience needs to be that lies of omission aren’t how you protect me, or yourself. I need you and I…”

Love you.

Your heart leapt as you filled in the next words, holding your breath to hear him say them for the first time.

“Was that a drop of rain?” Lloyd said.

*****

You and Lloyd made it back to the front porch of the cabin just as the clouds opened up and poured rain down in buckets. Both of you had escaped the worst of the onslaught, but droplets went flying when Lloyd shook out his hair. You squealed when the water hit your face.

“Sorry, honey,” he said, and held open the door for you.

There was no sight of Landon in the living room, so you assumed he’d retreated to the basement.

Lloyd led you upstairs to the loft which housed the master bedroom. He tossed his legal pad on the bed and went to retrieve towels from the bathroom. You stripped off your wet clothes in the closet and found a clean t-shirt of Lloyd's to slip on. When he came out of the bathroom with the towels, you were sitting on the bed leafing through his legal pad.

“Who’s Tate Corbin?”

“You remember Nguyen’s across the street neighbor? Mr. Corbin?”

“Yes. These notes are about him?”

Lloyd rubbed the towel across his damp hair.

“Yeah. Corbin doesn’t have a file, officially at least, so I’ve spent the past couple days putting one together.”

“Why?”

“Because after l reviewed everything Zach has collected on McKenzie, there was one glaring problem. Leo McKenzie isn’t good at chemistry. He failed the class in high school and took the easiest science credit he could in college: Biology 101 for general studies. He passed with a C minus.”

“Not everyone can be a scientific genius.”

“I doubt our killer is a scientific genius, but they know the basics of chemicals, either by trade or education. The brittle bones that were observed in Julia’s remains and the lack of bodies from the remains from the other nine victims points to a chemical dissolution process of some kind. Leo McKenzie doesn’t have the knowledge to perform that kind of a reaction.”

You made a face of disgust at the imagery his words brought to mind and scanned through the file.

“It says he wasn’t named as a person of interest in 2002. Why wasn’t he a suspect?”

“Actually, the first responding officer did raise suspicions about Mr. Corbin. When he answered the door the next evening - this wasn’t long after Shun was taken in for his first round of questioning - he appeared sweaty and pale. Mr. Corbin attributed it to being on a new blood pressure medication.”

“Did he work with chemicals?” you asked.

“He was a merchant marine in the 50s and 60s, working for companies like Odfjell and Stolt-Nielsen.”

“What does that have to do with the case?”

Lloyd’s grin widened. “Odfjell and Stolt-Nielsen were chemical tanker companies. left the industry in the late 60s and settled down in Fredericksburg. He got married, had two kids, and in 1975 the family moved to Harmony where Corbin started a contracting business. His specialty was laying foundations. Between the physical nature of his work and a penchant for jogging and hiking, Corbin stayed in excellent shape. He even hiked the Appalachian Trail from start to finish in 2003.”

“This is interesting, but what about the evidence Roth and Zach collected against Leo?”

Lloyd shrugged. “He’s worth investigating. I’m open to the possibility that he’s the killer, if evidence comes to light that he knew enough chemistry to dissolve a body. But the way Shun reacted when you questioned him about who the killer might be has stuck in my head. He was clearly afraid of someone, so I’ve been trying to figure out who.”

“Right, I noticed that too. He was visibly shaken when I told him about the second body.”

“Shun’s social circle wasn’t extensive, which narrows the potential suspects to his coworkers and a handful of other associates. When I couldn’t establish a connection between Shun and Leo, I kept searching, which led me to Tate Corbin. The guy is a towering ex-sailor with a linebacker’s shoulders. If he posed a threat to Shun, it could explain why Shun didn’t fight the charges harder or point the finger at another suspect.”

You flipped to Corbin’s demographics page and checked the data. “But Tate is eighty-three years old now. Why wouldn’t Shun just take his story to the media?”

“Remember his reaction to hearing about the second body? Someone - probably the killer - put the fear of God in him. Besides, to Corbin, age is just a number. He’s still running half marathons and 10ks.”

“Holy smoke. Do you have his times? Like, is he any good?”

“He’s placing ahead of runners who are a third of his age. The cincher for me is that there’s only one person whose presence at the house on the evening of April 18th can be verified. By his own admission, Tate was at the crime scene and reported seeing a ‘very large man’ lurking around. Conveniently, Tate Corbin is a very large man.”

“You think he lied to the police?”

Lloyd chuckled. “I don’t think he anticipated the interrogation. When he was caught off guard, his brain couldn’t compose an entirely fictional story, so instead of lying outright, he just bent the truth.”

“Should we bring Roth into the loop?”

“Let’s continue piecing things together over the weekend. We’ll let the news about Leo circulate and make sure Tate has a chance to see it. And since we’re relocating to Roth’s conference room on Monday, we can present our findings to him then. I want to have a clearer picture of the case against Tate to make sure he merits our attention before we discuss it with Roth.”

You looked down, pretending to read, and hid a smile at Lloyd’s final comment. Evidently, Roth’s barb about theatrics had stuck its target.

“That sounds like a plan. I think working together will be good for you two.”

Lloyd rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. He’s such an asshole.”

“Mmmhhh. A real piece of work.”

Irrespective of the investigation, Monday promised to be an exciting day. The anticipation of the clash between Lloyd and Roth brought a real smile to your face for the first time in days. And as fiery as their reaction to each other might be, you had a suspicion that they might turn out to be an excellent team - if they didn’t kill each other first.

*****

Next - Chapter XX

*****

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