#this is what happens when there's a massive time zone difference

[mr-styles]

harrystyles Love On Tour. Bangkok. March, 2023.

[radiance1]

@puppetmaster13u You called Danny a space whale in the tags of one of this post.

Now what if that was literal?

Hear me out, Danny outlives his friends, parents, sister. Danny becomes a literal whale.

Well, not a literal one because he's a ghost, but he takes the shape one of at the very least. He's just a giant, glowing white whale that looks pretty divine not going to lie.

Danny leaves earth. It wasn't safe for him anymore, what with the GIW and all that as even the ghosts found it not even worth anymore to visit the mortal world.

Except for Desiree and Spectra, but that's besides the point.

But Danny doesn't retreat to the zone, he's always longed for space, but because of his new half humanness he doesn't get believe he could've ever gone because, well. Yea.

But Danny goes fuck it and goes anyway. His form shifts from human to that of a giant whale, and he swims out into the vastness of space.

Years pass, and Danny does start getting bigger as he aged. He explored the vastness of space, marveling at many things, the different planets, the stars, the formations of rock and other things.

Then he encounters someone he never though he would've.

Vlad.

Well, he knew Vlad was left behind in space by his father but he didn't think he would find him again and Vlad seemed... different, from what he remembered.

For one thing, he didn't even know where Vlad began and space ended. He got only see those red eyes that even hinted at it being the man. His body was void black and filled with stars upon stars, all glittering from his body and Vlad barely even seemed to notice him, or if he did, he didn't seem to care at all.

So, Danny took him.

He was both curious and felt a bit bad about what happened to Vlad, even if he didn't know exactly what happened, and he couldn't just leave him there either.

So on his back Vlad went, and his travels continued.

It seemed to be the correct decision, really, because slowly overtime Vlad seemed to be regaining his awareness. Then slowly, tentatively, started to speak with him through ghost speak.

Vlad only seemed to vaguely remember what he was before space. He remembered hating a man, loving a woman, wanting a son, loneliness and a boy with white hair and toxic green eyes.

Even though Vlad was his former enemy, his nemesis, and someone who took the world hostage.

He couldn't help but feel pity for him.

Then their travels continued.

Years pass unnoticed, when in space, with Danny slowly getting bigger and bigger as the two travel throughout. They've come into contact with various civilizations, some hostile, some peaceful, some neutral.

The hostile ones never lasted long, even if Danny never lifted a flipper to do anything most of the time, Vlad made sure of it.

They came at went as they pleased, and Danny believes that they've gained a bit of a reputations over their adventures, but neither he nor Vlad knew exactly what they said. It did prove useful in some cases, however.

A few more years, and Danny feels that this system is vaguely familiar. Which happens sometimes, considering he's been travelling for so long. He then finds out why it was so familiar.

He came across Earth and, oh. When was the Earth so small?

Well, not small really, but when was he just only a bit smaller than it?

Did it shrink when he was away? Or did he just grow?

That doesn't matter though. What does, is the fact that currently seemed to be an invasion going on, on his home planet thank you very much. He did not like the fact that there was a massive fleet parked right outside his home.

So he spoke to Vlad, expressed his displeasure, Vlad responded back knowingly and went off to make the source of his displeasure disappear. That doesn't Danny was idle either, the fleet was big and, well.

It's been a while since he's stretched himself in a fight.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter one

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): none

series masterlist; next part

The atmosphere surrounding the students on the Hogwarts Express differed massively in comparison to your fifth year last year, when everyone was wholly against Harry. Now, however, people whispered in their compartments about how he was right, the Dark Lord had returned. How everything was changing, especially with the rising death toll, wizard and muggle combined.

You were walking to the designated Prefect's compartment, which sat in the middle of the train, with Hermione at your side, your blue and bronze tie clashing with her burgundy and gold one. Your presence at the Ministry that summer prompted the two of you to be topics of few conversations, you sent glares their way.

"What do you think will happen this year?" the Gryffindor girl asked as you both made your way through the throngs of students in the hallway.

"Considering we almost died in June?" you say, a frown painting your face as your mind brings you back to your traumatic time in the Department of Mysteries to aid Harry in saving (and failing to do so) his Godfather. "We'll probably face certain death this year, Mione."

Hermione swatted your arm in feined annoyance at your attempt of a joke. "Don't put that thought into existence Meadow."

You only shrugged as you held the compartment door open for her. Ron was already waiting inside, glaring at Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson, who were sat diagonally across from him.

Unlike your Gryffindor companions, you had no issues with the two snakes, in fact they were two people you would consider your closest friends, if it wasn't for the prejudice that went both ways – from your friends and some of their's.

"Stop glaring holes into the sides of their heads, Ron." you scold. "I've told you before, they're my friends. They won't do anything to you."

He said nothing, but he did stop his glaring in favour of greeting the two of you.

The Prefect meeting went on for over an hour and you found yourself zoning out multiple times.

You're going to miss out on important information if you keep daydreaming, tesoro. Theodore. You admired that he was as talented as he was, but it was annoying when he would invade your thoughts. You narrowed your eyes at him.

Stay out of my head, Teddy.

But it's so fun, and so easy. He smirked and turned his attention back to the Head Boy, who was busy assigning roles to the new fifth year prefects. Pansy nudged Theo's arm, breaking his concentration, as she was obviously using her own legillimens ability to berate him. She offered you a smile in apology, which you returned with one of your own.

You'd taken to learning legillimens at the start of fifth year, having read about it in a book you'd taken from the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. You also wanted to protect your mind, especially with the knowledge that Voldemort was back after Harry had returned with Cedric Diggory's dead body at the end of your fourth year.

"Now onto you sixth years." the Head Girl announced. "Like last year, you're going to be paired off for nightly patrols."

She began pairing you off one by one. Hermione was with Ernie Macmillan; Ron was paired with Hannah Abbot; Pansy with your Ravenclaw counterpart and Theodore was paired with you. She then paired off the seventh year prefects before the Head Boy dismissed you all.

~∞~

Ron yawned as he stepped into the corridor. "Thank Merlin that's over. I'm starving."

"You're always hungry, Ronald." Hermione muttered as she walked out behind him, rolling her eyes at his usual ramblings, causing you to laugh at his expense.

"My my, it's a wonder why Dumbledore chose you to be a prefect with that attitude, Weasley." Theodore spoke up from behind you, Pansy at his side, once again shooting you an apologetic smile.

"Piss off, Nott." Ron snarked, turning to face your snickering Slytherin friend, about to take a step towards him when you put a hand on his chest.

"Leave it Ron. He's only trying to get a rise out of you. I'll meet you both in the compartment in a bit." you say, turning to face a smirking Theo with a berating glare.

"Wanted to get me alone, tesoro? Finally. I've waited all these years." he said with a grin, stepping towards you as your Gryffindor friends reluctantly left.

"Don't flatter yourself, Teddy." you say with an eye roll before you turned to Pansy and brought her into a hug. "I've missed you Pans. Good summer?"

"Abysmal." she muttered, sharing a not-so-subtle look with Theo. You looked between them questioningly.

"What happened?" you ask.

Exchanging glancing, they seemed to come to an agreement and Pansy grabbed your hand, dragging you into the closest empty compartment. Theo followed behind the two of you, closing the door and spelling it from unwanted listeners.

"What's with the secrecy? Guys?" you look between them growing more confused by the second.

"Before I tell you, you have to understand, I didn't have a choice, none of us did." Theo emphasises. "I consider you one of my best friends, tesoro. But what I'm about to reveal....it cannot under any circumstances leave this room."

You look at him confused, but the nagging thought that had haunted you all summer suddenly creeped up on your subconscious. Your eyes widened.

"No. Theo don't tell me-" you stutter and he looks away ashamed.

His son is my best friend. My father wants to get into his good graces, I had no choice. Even his voice in your head sounds despondent.

"Oh Teddy." you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist, hugging him tight.

"I'm to receive the mark during the Christmas holidays." he mumbles dejectively into your hair. "Hell of a Christmas present."

"How good is your legillimens ability?" Pansy asks you. "Can you block people out."

"I have my thoughts locked away into a little mental box, but I'm still working on fully blocking people out." you say, pointedly looking up at Theo, who smiles innocently at you.

"You'll need to practice it then." she says resolutely, but the look on her face indicates nothing pleasant. "Mattheo can help you."

You scoffed. "There is no way Riddle will willingly help me. His father's biggest threat is one of my best friends."

"And you're one of our best friends, Meadow." Pansy says. "Our loyalty to eachother goes both ways. He'll help you, he's the most advanced at it, besides Snape and Dumbledore of course. Trust me."

"What about Harry?" I ask. "And Ron and Hermione, the Order. What am I meant to tell them. They won't be thrilled that I'm taking lessons from you-know-who's son."

"You'll tell them that you're tutoring Mattheo. It's a believable lie. He's shite at Ancient Runes, no matter how much I try to help him." Theo says, nodding his head as a plan forms in his mind. That was true. You don't know how Riddle was still enrolled in that class. "We've already discussed this becoming a possibility. He's more than willing."

"Why are you trusting me with this?" you question, staring between your two friends.

"Like it or not, you're our one way ticket to the right side of this war, tesoro. You know as well as I do that Potter needs as much help as he can get. And you need to protect your mind so that the Dark Lord can't get into your head." Theo says.

"So are you in?" Pansy asks as she heads towards the door. "Because there's no backing out from here, and I really don't want to obliviate one of my dearest friends."

You know the risks. You don't know what this will mean for your current friendships. But you know that Theodore is right. To help Harry, he'll need as much help as possible. Having Theo and Pansy on your side could be a turning point in this brewing war.

"I'm in." you say, nodding your head in agreement. "Just keep the snarky comments to a minimum about Ron, Mione and Harry, please. And relay that message to the rest of your friends too."

"Already done, tesoro." Theo says, ruffling your hair, grinning when you swat his hand away.

You question what he means for a moment when the back of your skull begins to burn with a dull ache. You cradle the back of your neck with your hand, wincing at the sting as Mattheo's deep, raspy voice fills every corner of your mind.

Lessons start tomorrow night, Princess. Don't be late.

He was already in your head, you sighed. It was going to be a long year.

~∞~

You reached the compartment that your other friends occupied at the same time that Harry and Neville seemed to be leaving it.

"Where are you two off to?" you ask as the two boys move away from the open doorway.

"To meet Professor Slughorn." Neville said, although he looked a mixure of nervous and confused.

"Who the hell is that?" you look at Hermione as you go inside, leaving Harry and Neville on their venture.

"New Professor, apparently." she replied. "What took you so long?"

You knew that your friends, minus maybe Harry, had little to no legillimens skills, but nevertheless, you cleared your mind of the conversation you'd had with Theo and Pansy.

"Well Pansy likes a gossip." you said flipantly as you pulled out a book from your never ending bag. "How else are we to know everything that goes on outside of our little circle, now that Lee Jordan is no longer in school?"

Ron and Hermione smile at that, before Ron's face drops.

"Listen, be careful around them this year, yeah." he said, his voice low. "We went to see Fred and George's new shop and watched Malfoy go into Borgin and Burke's with a bunch of known Death Eaters."

Your heart dropped. Theo would be participating in those meeting come Christmas time. That must mean that Draco was already involved.

"Well you know what sort of things they sell there." you say hesitantly. "It probably doesn't mean anything."

Hermione scoffed. "Try telling that to Harry. I think he's convinced that Draco and Riddle have been inducted."

You fall silent shortly after that. The conversation only picking up again when Neville came back to the compartment, Ginny following behind him.

Harry was nowhere in sight.

~∞~

Harry was awol for the rest of the trainride.

When the Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop in Hogsmeade station and you all found a carriage to settle in, he still wasn't there.

"Where on Earth is he?" Mione muttered as the thestrals, that were no longer invisible to you all after Sirius' death, pulled onto the winding road up to the castle.

"He's probably already in a carriage and didn't wait for us. Wouldn't be the first time." Ron assured, although his face betrayed his words as he looked as worried as you and Hermione.

You were unconvinced, and more so when you split off towards the Ravenclaw table when the three of you arrived to the Great Hall and saw, not to your surprise, Mattheo Riddle with bloody and bruised knuckles. As you sat beside Luna Lovegood you felt that same prickling sensation that you did on the train. He was watching you, and he continued to watch you with his cold, unbothered stare through the sorting ceremony and Dumbledore's speech.

Your attention was brought to the doors of the Great Hall where Harry seemed to materialise, Snape's looming figure behind him. But what you noticed the most in the bright glow of floating candles that bothered you more than his lack of punctuality, was the bloody tissue he was dabbing at his recently-fixed broken nose, which he did not have when you last saw him hours earlier.

People stared and whispered as he made his way to where Ron and Hermione were sitting. But your attention was pulled to where Crabbe and Goyle were sat snickering from their seats beside Draco. You narrowed your eyes at Riddle, who was still looking at you.

Got a staring problem, Princess?

Merlin he infuriated you. You focused on him as you thought of your response.

Did you do that to his face?

He smirked. Did I do what?

You didn't give him a response, instead turning your attention to Theo, who was chatting to Lorenzo Berkshire. Did Riddle do that to Harry? You asked and you watched as Theo startled before maintaining the same facade of conversation.

No. It was Draco. Harry was eavesdropping his conversation with Blaise. Matt was with me and Enzo.

Your question was answered, but you were still left unsatisfied. And Riddle's stare had not faltered, which added to your growing bad mood.

Stop fucking staring at me, Riddle. And stay out of my head.

He smirked wickedly and finally looked away, taking the prickling sensation along with him.

~∞~

first post on tumblr after lurking for a year 🫢

i've been a little hyperfixated on the slytherin boys (particularly theo and mattheo) so i thought i'd try out writing a short(ish) fic, but i couldn't be bothered with wattpad (i'm procrastinating finishing a fic on there lol)

i'm also writing this instead of finishing uni assignments that are literally due at the end of the week whoops

[stealingyourbones]

*slowly shuffles a wooden box of finger bones towards you* so I have two ideas for you

So, what if ghosts like, really screw with video technology, so it all kind of looks corrupted at all times- so when Danny starts recording like a blog of daily like in amity park (maybe as a way to cope with Trauma) and he posts it, maybe people outside of amity could think it’s all just like, an ARG or analog horror- if you want to go with dc/dp here, tim could be trying to solve a nonexistent mystery

For idea two, do you know ab the mystery flesh pit? If you don’t it’s basically an unreality where a gigantic super organism is turned into a National park and it’s then shit down when the organism basically coughs in its sleep and destroys a lot of stuff-( also be warned, there is a lot of body horror involved in this, so if anyone’s sensitive to it maybe don’t look at any content!) so maybe Giant Danny is taking a nap and some villains find the GIANT GHOST TAKING A SLEEP and decide to hook him up to be used as like, a battery or Lazerus pit (if you go the route of his blood being lazerus water) and the heroes get involved trying to figure out what’s happening

oh man that would be so fun. Danny just takes a little school project 10 minute documentary of the town and doesn't think too much of it when he submits it to Youtube so he can send it to his teacher.

A week later and every ARG/Analog Horror nerd on the planet has heard about this brilliantly well produced video called "Amity Park"

Now knowing this, He decides to have some fun. He takes ominous shots of mundane Amity life and splices them between the more normal scenes of himself and his friends having fun and hanging out.

He amps up the uncanny level. Throughout all of his videos, he starts to tell a slightly dramatized version of his life, not the Phantom stuff, but his life as a Fenton.

The whole world watches in awe and delight as this refreshingly new Analog Horror channel posts nearly twice a week with some of the most stunning CGI that they've ever seen. I mean 'c'mon, Sentient food. A child living in the house of two mad scientists who casually mention dismembering and destroying ghosts at the dinner table. An honest to god crazy scientist lab with a massive portal to this 'Ghost Zone' just in their basement?! Yeah, whoever made this has an absolutely incredible imagination. (Some people are even dissing it since this GZ really just feels like a warped version of The Backrooms but it's fine, it's unique enough that it makes up for it.)

------

I am a hoe for any and every topic that Wendigoon talks about in his videos so I very much so know about the Mystery Flesh Pit. (Video is linked but be warned; Benji isn't joking when they say that it's a LOT of body horror.)

I'd like to propose that Danny isn't even on earth, he's on a different planet that has collected his blood and harnessed his core for energy on a massive scale, helping create and produce items that benefit their world greatly.

To Danny, Their mining, harvesting, and energy draining efforts are the equivalent to bacteria moving around his body. He's so massive that this civilization isnt impacting him in the slightest.

The JL get called because this strange planet superorganism is now moving and it's causing the destruction of an entire civilization.

They fly over to the planet and they notice something very very wrong with the shape of the planet.

First and foremost, the two eyes spanning the equivalent width of Texas that stares up at their ship is new.

[bastardmandennis]

i can see you (teacher!joel x fem teacher!reader)

Teacher!joel x fem teacher!reader

Summary: You’re a substitute teacher trying to find your classroom for the day. Joel is a high school teacher who mistakes you for a student, and after school shenanigans ensue.

“You’re a…” “Substitute,” you finish. Joel crosses his arms against his chest, clearly embarrassed at the mishap. “Well,” he grumbles, “why didn’t ya say anything before?”

Warnings: SMUT!! NSFW, age gap (reader is mid-20s, Joel is Joel), grinding, fingering, sass, oral sex (m receiving), …yeah. pls let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.6k (idk idk idk)

A/N: yeah i…don’t even know what happened. The spirit of speak now tv possessed me (specifically the sexy vibes of “i can see you,” which this fic is obviously named after). so, yeah. pls like/comment/reblog if you liked this and maybe i’ll write more! hope y'all enjoy teacher joel as much as i do 🙂

Read my neighbor!joel fic here

The bell rings, echoing shrilly through the packed hallway. Students push and move all around you, nearly knocking your messenger back off your shoulder.

You huff and push the strap back up. The hallway is nearly empty now, students funneling themselves into different classrooms. So much for asking someone for directions. This school is massive and disorienting. You weren’t even supposed to be here, but after a last minute call from your friend Laura, a high school geometry teacher, you’d dragged yourself here to watch her classes for the afternoon. Not like you could afford to be picky, job wise. 

If you could only find it. You peer at the directions the ancient secretary had written down for you and give up trying to decipher her looping scrawl. The hallway is a dead zone now and as you scurry to the end of the hallway, you almost miss the man leaning against the wall. His arm shoots out to block you from moving up the stairs. You look up, relieved to find someone to direct you, when he speaks.

“You got a hall pass?”

A–huh? He’s not smiling, his arms crossed over his chest, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his tan forearms, but surely he’s joking. Right?

“Hall pass, right,” you snort. “Sure. I’m actually just heading up to Ms. Sim–”

“That’s fine. Come with me,” he says. He peels himself off the wall and stalks the opposite way down the hall, not looking to see if you’re following. A student slams his locker and calls out “Hey, Mr. Miller!” The man—Mr. Miller, apparently—raises a hand in acknowledgement but doesn’t slow his pace.

You hitch your bag up again and try to keep up with his long strides. Damn, he’s fast. “Oh, thank you! I think I got all turned around back there…”

Your voice trails off as you enter a classroom. Instead of 25 bored looking teenagers waiting for you, the room is completely empty. A shelf in the corner is crammed with books, spilling out onto the little area rug in front. You turn and a poster of Shakespeare hanging crookedly seems to follow your movements. There’s Christmas lights strung up around the room and a variety of throw pillows laying haphazardly on the ground. This definitely isn’t a math room. 

“Wha–” you start.

And immediately shut up at the sight before you. The man–Mr. Miller–is bent over the front of the teacher’s desk, scribbling furiously on a pad of paper. His dark jeans stretch over his ass. You can’t look away. He abruptly stands and turns to face you, perching against the edge of the desk. Does he ever stand up straight? you wonder.

He raises an eyebrow when you don’t move. Holds the piece of paper in his outstretched hand. You want to trace the veins sticking out and quickly push that thought away.

“I sure hope your directions are more legible than Sandra’s,” you laugh and step closer, reaching for the paper. Kind of weird that he’d rather take the time to write it down for you than just tell you, or bring you there, but whatever. 

He holds the paper up, out of your reach. “What directions?”

You huff. “To Laura’s room. Ms. Simons, eleventh grade geometry?” you say slowly. His eyebrows furrow and his arm lowers in confusion. Your fingers brush his when you grab the paper and you ignore the spark that shudders through you.

What the–a detention slip? Signed by Joel Miller, the man standing in front of you. Who looks as confused as you feel. Oh my god, he really thought you were a student. A snort makes its way out and you quickly cover it with a cough.

“You’re a…”

“Substitute,” you finish. Joel crosses his arms against his chest, clearly embarrassed at the mishap.

“Well,” he grumbles, “why didn’t ya say anything before?”

The nerve of this guy. 

“I would have,” you say, “if someone hadn’t dragged me away before I could.”

He scoffs. Kicks a booted foot across the floor. “You even old enough to be teachin’?” 

“Yes, and I’m clearly late, so if you could just direct me to Laura’s room, that would be great.” Who knows what a group of unsupervised teens could get into during your little detour. “Please, Mr. Miller,” you add.

Your sarcasm is lost and his name comes out as a breathy whisper. He stares at you, his dark eyes clouding over. Studies your face until you clear your throat.

“Joel,” he finally says. He takes the paper back from your limp fingers, twisting around to write something on the back of the detention slip. 

He pushes the note back into your hand, closing your hand with his. His hand practically dwarfs yours. “Here ya go, darlin’,” he drawls. “‘F you get lost again, you know where to find me.”

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat and mumble out a thank you before stumbling out of the room. Did they turn the heat up in here or something? Your fingers are still clenched around the paper and you make yourself unroll them, staring at the simple block scrawl with directions to your assigned classroom.

Underneath that, in smaller letters: Meet me after class. -Joel

The afternoon flies by in a blur, Joel’s note burning a hole in your pocket as you play random Shark Tank episodes for the last 3 periods. You find yourself tracing the ink, smudged where he’d pressed down a little too hard.

A glance at the clock lets you know there’s one more period before you’re free for the day. Ignoring the sudden butterflies, you give a quick spiel to the bored students, cue up a new Shark Tank, and open your laptop once they’re distracted. It doesn’t take you long to find the school directory, and then after a little more digging, the faculty page and contact info for Joel Miller. Ninth and tenth grade English. 

His school picture is what you expected, very no nonsense. Simple. A hint of a smile pulls his lips up, his short beard highlighting his chiseled jaw. He looks serious but you can see the warmth in his deep brown eyes. Just like when he’d looked at you earlier. Eyed you up and down, lingering on your breasts… you shake your head and pull up a new email.

See you tonight. Xx

After a slight hesitation, you add your phone number to the email and click send. As soon as you hear the whoosh of the sent message you want to take it back. What if he was just being nice? Or worse, reports you to the school board or something for harassment. Your head thunks to the desk with a small groan. You silently curse Laura for being sick, for calling you in, for walking down that hallway at the exact right time to run into Mr. Miller–Joel.

You tune into the video playing, trying to ignore the hope that lurches your stomach with each new email that comes in. Just spam, a how’s it going? from Laura that you definitely ignore, some online sales. You feel your chest deflate, stomach sinking the longer your email to Joel goes unanswered.

Stupid, so dumb. The final bell rings and you barely notice the kids leaving, scraping their chairs away from their desks in a rush to get home for the weekend. You pack your bag slowly, dreading having to walk by Joel’s room, hoping he’s not still here. Maybe there’s another way out, one where you won’t have to see him. You’re making a mental map in your mind, debating whether you want to try to follow another teacher out, when your phone dings from the pocket of your bag.

An unknown number. You still here?

Your heart beats faster, hope lifting your chest when you see the second message that comes in right after. It’s Joel. Miller.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and make your way carefully back to his classroom. The school is a ghost town, the rumble of the last bus pulling away from the front quickly fading away. Your footsteps echo down the stairs and you curse yourself for not wearing flats.

You knock lightly against his door, try to calm your beating heart and hope he can’t hear it.

“Mr. Miller?” you call lightly, and step in the room. The overhead lights are off, Christmas lights casting deep shadows around the classroom. You’re grateful for the lack of fluorescent lights–no one looks good under fluorescents. Except maybe Joel, who’d probably look good in any lighting. 

Case in point–he’s got a pen between his lips, a book with a folded-over cover in his hand. His hair is ruffled even more than earlier, like he’d been running his hands through it. He puts the book down when you step closer to his desk. The pen dangles from the corner of his mouth, which lifts in a little smile.

“This’s a pleasant surprise,” he says. He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms behind his head. You can see a strip of skin where his shirt untucks from his jeans, and you tear your eyes away.

“Yeah, I, uh. Got your note,” you say. “And your text.” Smooth.

He slaps his hands down on his thighs, rubbing his palms on his rough jeans. You wonder what they would feel like on your bare skin, if they’d be gentle or rough like the calluses on his fingers.

“Hmm,” he murmurs. His eyes rake up and down your body, this time so intentional you know he knows you’re watching. You fight back a blush.

“’M sorry about earlier,” he says. You blink and he continues. “Too pretty to be a student.”

It should be sleazy, the way his eyes linger on your high heeled feet, the hem of your barely-long enough pencil skirt you’d thrown on in a rush. Instead you feel the heat of his gaze and it settles in your stomach, lower. You shift and he looks away, meeting your eyes with a smile.

You step forward, drawn to that smile. Wanting to make him smile again, only for you, a secret only you’d know about. 

“I’m sorry too, Mr. Miller,” you say. His eyes darken. Interesting. 

“Thought I told ya to call me Joel,” he finally says. Is it just you or did his voice get a lot deeper all of a sudden? More authoritative. That sends a rush of arousal through you and you curse yourself (again) for not wearing underwear today. 

You step even closer to his desk, until you’re practically standing in between his spread legs. His eyes trace your legs up up up and linger at your chest. Your lips.

You bite your lower lip and he shifts in his chair. “Of course, Joel.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and just when you think you’ve gone too far, he surprises you, surging up out of the chair to tower over you. He grips your face in his hands. Noses along your cheek until he reaches your ear. You hold back a moan as he bites the lobe lightly.

“Nuh uh, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Wanna hear you, go on.”

He moves down your neck, lingering at your exposed collarbone. He sucks a mark there and this time you can’t hold back, your moan mingling with his panting breaths.

“Please, Joel,” you whimper. 

At that he pulls back before finally pressing his lips against yours. They’re rough but his movements are gentle, slow and steady until you’re gasping for air. All you can smell, taste, see, is him him him. You rake your nails through the scruff of his jaw and this time he groans, leaning his head into your hand. You smile and press your lips against his, moaning as his tongue slips against yours.

He pulls you impossibly closer, the wide spread of his hands sliding low down your back. You can feel his arousal pressing up between you and you shift to try to get friction against your throbbing clit. 

His groan is low as he pulls away, panting. His eyes are practically black with desire as he grips your ass and pulls you closer, grinding into him. His hands move lower to the back of your thighs and you take the hint, jumping up at the same time he catches you and hoists you up. He walks you over to his desk and deposits you on top, careful not to jostle your mouth away from his. A hardcover book digs into your back and you sweep your hand behind you impatiently, trying to clear a space. He looks at his belongings now covering the floor and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

His answering groan is low. “Thought about this a lot, huh? Spread out on the teacher’s desk?”

“Not any teacher,” you whisper. Hook your legs around the back of his thighs and pull him closer to where you’re warm and aching and so wet. “Just you.”

He runs a thumb over your cheek, down over your swollen bottom lip. Watches as you suck his thumb in, run your tongue around it and hollow your cheeks. He grunts and pops his thumb out, a string of saliva connecting them. He runs the wet finger down the side of your neck, tracing your collarbone before settling over a nipple.

He looks surprised to see no bra in the way of his wandering hands. “I was in a rush,” you grumble, tightening your legs where they’re hooked low on his waist.

“’M glad you were,” he murmurs, eyes on the way your nipples have hardened against your shirt. “Or I couldn’t do this.”

He bends down, forcing your back to lower onto the desk. Sucks your nipple right through your shirt, his tongue sweeping over and over the hardened bud. You let out a high-pitched whine, tug his hair the way you’ve been thinking about this whole time while he mouths the other one.

“Joel, come on, touch me,” you whine. The ache between your legs is unbearable now, the pounding of your clit overwhelming. You arch your hips up for any kind of friction but he stops that quickly. Throws a hand across your hips, pushing down. His jaw clenches and you want to grin at how disheveled he looks, curls all pointing in different directions and the light shadow of a hickey under his jaw.

“I am touching you,” he teases. The heat from his hand leeches through the layers of clothes, branding you as his. 

“Please, I just–ugh,” you groan.

“Whaddya want, hm?” he whispers. Drags his lips around your jaw, your cheeks, your lips again until you’re squirming. “Give you anything, just gotta ask.”

For some reason you’re suddenly shy and can’t meet his intense gaze. “Want…want your fingers. In me,” you say softly. He groans at your words and adjusts his pants.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Okay, sweetheart. Lemme see.”

He drags his slightly damp thumb down your hip, pressing briefly there before running under the waistband of your skirt. He snaps it against your skin and you hiss lightly. 

He lets out a tortured groan when he pushes your skirt up and finds you bare, nothing between your slick skin and his thick fingers.

“’S all for me?” His voice is rough, wrecked as he swipes his thumb through your slit, collecting the slick there. Groans when you nod, shifting to spread your legs even further, opening yourself up to him even more.

“Alright,” he husks. “Gonna take care of you, don’t worry.”

He drags his thumb lightly over your clit once, twice. You jolt and pull him closer, arching your back off the desk. He traces a single finger down the crease of your thigh slowly, the bastard, grinning when you become impatient and hook your leg around to try and bring him closer. 

Finally, finally, he pushes the tip of his finger in and you moan at the sudden intrusion. His fingers are thick, calluses rubbing just right as his thumb flicks your clit. He mouths loosely at your neck and you wish you could do something more besides whimper and arch yourself closer to his insanely talented fingers.

“’S okay, sweetheart, I got you,” he says lowly. Dips a second finger in you, drags your slick back up to your clit and presses down hard. “You’re so tight, fuck, how’m I gonna fit, huh? Gonna make room for me in this tight pussy?”

“Fuck, please,” you groan. His fingers pump steadily, thumb swiping your clit lazily. You feel your release building, head spinning as you gasp for breath. “’M gonna–ah, please. Please.”

He presses his thumb directly to your swollen clit and your back arches so hard you almost throw him off. Your legs clamp around him, as if he could physically be any closer, and he pulls down your top, exposing your breast to the cool air. He sucks a mark on the side of your breast and your head spins, the sensations overwhelming. You can hear the squelch of his fingers pumping in and out but you can’t even feel embarrassed, too busy chasing your orgasm that’s just out of reach.

You whimper in frustration when he stills his fingers, thumb resting in the crease of your hip. You’re throbbing, so wet you can feel it spilling down the backs of your thighs onto his desk. He’ll think of me after, when he’s cleaning it off his desk, you realize, and that thought combined with the press of Joel’s teeth on the edge of your breast, his thumb swirling around your slippery clit, finally sends you over the edge.

“Good girl,” he murmurs lowly. “Such a good girl, just for me.”

When you finally catch your breath and open your eyes, he’s looking at you with such raw hunger that you can’t even be self conscious that you just came all over his desk, breast hanging out of your shirt, skirt hiked up, while he’s still fully dressed. His shirt is rumpled, fully untucked from his pants now. You reach for the bulge in his jeans, more than ready to reciprocate, when he grabs your wrist.

“Let me,” you whisper. “Please, Mr. Miller?”

He thrusts his hips into your hand at your words and you smile. You slump to the floor, boneless after one of (if not the) best orgasm of your life, and look up at him through your lashes. Fuck, he’s pretty, marked up and wet spot spreading on the front of his jeans. I did that to him, you think, and that sends another surge of arousal through you. He leans back against his desk, legs spread, watching as you slowly unbuckle his belt and drag it out of the loops. It makes a hollow clang when it hits the ground. You pull his jeans and briefs down slowly, and he growls.

You flash him an innocent grin and pull them down the rest of the way, his hard cock springing up at the sudden freedom. Holy shit, he’s big. You run your hands down his stomach, scratching lightly through the trail of hair there and avoiding his leaking cock.

“Go on,” he says. His hands twitch like he wants to grab your head but he stops, gripping the edge of the desk instead. “’S my good girl, such a good–fuck.”

You take the tip of him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the leaking head. You pull back, leaving little kitten licks up and down the shaft, never settling in one place for long. He groans, long and loud, and his knuckles go white with how hard he’s gripping the desk.

“Shit, I’m, can I? Let me fuck your mouth, please, let me fill that pretty little mouth,” he rambles. He sounds wrecked, hair sticking up at all angles from where he’d run his hands through it over and over.

You moan, the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue. Pull off to say in a hoarse voice, “Yes yes, please,” and that’s all he needs to hear, fisting his hands in your hair and slowly feeding you his cock. You can’t take the whole thing, nose almost pressed to the wiry hair at the base, but you do your best, letting the spit run from your mouth as you twist your hand around what your mouth can’t reach.

He thrusts his hips up shallowly, grunting when he hits the back of your throat. You swallow around him and the grip on your hair gets tighter. His thighs tense when you hum around his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he pants. “Such a good girl, lettin’ me fuck you right here where anyone can see, hmm? Feels so–so good. ’M gonna–where d’you want it, hm?”

You don’t answer, licking at the tip, tonguing the slit gently. He shoves once, twice, to hit the back of your throat and finally comes with a stutter of his hips when you swallow around him.

“Fuck, fu-uck,” he says, broken. Watches as you let his spent dick fall from your mouth, string of come and spit dragging from the corner of your mouth. Your breath hitches as he reaches out with a thumb to push it back into your mouth. He gives you a smile, small but genuine.

“That was…” you trail off. Push yourself off your knees, brushing invisible dirt off your skirt. You feel his eyes on you again.

Joel reaches out and grabs your hand. Interlocks your fingers together before you can pull back. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Can I…take you out tomorrow, or somethin’?” He sounds nervous, and you can’t help but smile. He just fucked your mouth, whispered the dirtiest things in your ear, but the idea of a date makes him blush? How cute.

“You know where to find me,” you say. 

Joel’s answering smile is bright, just for you. 

masterlist here

[maelialuv]

oh my god. can i pretty please get a part two to Call It What You Want (steve harrington)? steve fails to disregard his feelings towards the reader after sleeping together, but how long can he go until he breaks after seeing she’s completely neglected his existence. smut! (rough sex, but very passionate cause why not lol, perv!steve, jealous!steve and pls add anything if you’d like! thank you love :’)

So It Goes, Steve Harrington .

(part two to Call It What You Want)

Sumarry: Hooking up with your old bully was never on the cards. But Steve Harrington has a habit of getting in the way of plans.

Warnings: SMUT! this is FILTHY! slowburn! breeding kink! perv!steve (a teeny bit), angst! steve is hopeless with women, fluffy ending <3

Word count: 9.5K (ohmygod)

It had been one week since you'd done it. One week since you'd done the most reckless thing in your whole life. Seven days since you'd lost your head and slept with your old bully. Seven days since you'd slept with your, supposed, best friend's ex-boyfriend. Just seven days since you'd slept with Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High.

The morning after replayed in your mind like a broken tape, in torturous clarity thanks to not having a hangover. The way you ran from the Harrington residence played behind your eyes without end. The walk home, unkindly long and silent with nothing but your thoughts - memories of him, and the way he touched you- to keep you company. The way you ran to your bathroom, stripping down and tossing his clothes in your hamper as if they were toxic waste, and the way you scrubbed your body in the shower as if the soap would somehow remove the feeling of his hands on you from your head. You didn't know if you were more disgusted with yourself for doing it. or for the fact that somewhere inside, you wanted it to happen again.

You felt different, like someone else, as you got ready in the mirror each day that proceeded the party. Felt guilty as you looked at the arch of your neck, the feeling of Steve’s lips there still as strong as they were that night. You felt a pit in your stomach as you looked at your nose, remembering the way Steve had placed a delicate kiss there , feather light, as he washed your skin in the shower. You now saw yourself as a reckless idiot, driven by some unknown desire for what? Closure? Or was it power that your subconscious so desperately wanted?

You only hoped your mindless scrubbing in the shower, skin red as you zoned out, would tell you the answers. You found no solace in the space between the tiles, only lime build up.

You wouldn't tell a soul. Your parents were none the wiser, as were your friends, to the battle your brain was at with your heart.

An aggression had settled over you, a dark looming cloud any time he was mentioned. You became snippy, unjustifiably short. Chrissy assumed you were pissed off about the party, still reeling from the belittling interaction with Carol and Tommy, as well as Steve.

She had apologised relentlessly in the days following. On and on, despite your reassurance, Chrissy swore she would never let "the redheaded witch and her flying monkey" talk to to you ever again.

The week had gone that way, Chrissy sending you an apologetic glance any time Harrington, the party or anything relating to them was mentioned. You felt guilty that she felt guilty, but you could never tell her what happened. You already felt like a massive hypocrite, you couldn't bear to have another person know it too.

You'd been stood by your locker, thankful for the lack of a certain basketball player in the halls, having had been able to avoid him for the full school week, when Chrissy bounded over to you. Without a word, she grabbed your hand and - with surprising strength- dragged you into the nearest bathroom.

"Did you hear?" she said, voice a mix of shock and curiosity. Immediately paranoia spread over you like hives, certain that Chrissy was doing damage control. "Steve and Nancy broke up at the party on Saturday." Her voice was even, no hint of suspicion or knowledge or anything, or anyone, that you had done.

"Woah," you said, hoping only you heard the waver in your voice as you tried your best to keep your face void of guilt, "what happened?" you asked, knowing that any account you heard would never be as accurate to the front row seat you had to the argument.

You hardly heard Chrissy as she spoke, her animated words falling on deaf ears as you realised that nearly every person was going to be talking about Nancy and Steve. The It Couple, King and Queen of the school, had fallen apart. Every girl was going to be fawning over Steve again- not that Nancy had stopped them, now they would be more overt- and Nancy would be the One that Got Away. You felt angry when Chrissy mention there were whispers that Steve was holed up in his house, heartbroken over the split. You felt even worse when she told you that Nancy was already dealing with a rehash of last years cheating rumours.

Nancy had to hold you back from ripping Steve's head off last fall over the, now, infamous 'Nancy 'The Slut' Wheeler' graffiti.

This wasn't part of your plan. You'd made such good friends, come out of your shell, cemented yourself as a somebody. Nancy was happy, you were happy and everything was fine just the way it was.

And Steve Harrington was messing it all up.

Your first classes went by in blurry seconds, your attention focused on the cracks in your desk or the clouds outside as you thought about the whole nuclear explosion of a situation. You wished you'd never agreed to go to the stupid party. You wished you'd just shrugged out of Harrington's grip and run downstairs and gone home. You wished you hadn't kissed Steve back when he leaned in, wished you'd pushed him off instead of tugging him closer.

You wished you could rewind time and not allow him to touch you, make time stop and slap yourself for loving it so much. You hoped you would forget how he made you feel; the white hot burning on your skin as his lips travelled across your stomach, the gentle touch of his hands as he dried your hair and dressed you in his clothes.

You hoped you would forget everything about Steve Harington.

Deciding on a healthy dose of ditching, you made your way out to the school's parking lot, intent on walking home and enjoying the empty house whilst your parents worked.

Then you saw him sat on the hood of his car, a cigarette dangling from his lip as he brushed a frustrated hand through his hair. Your feet felt as though they were glued to the floor as his eyes met yours, unable to move like his gaze willed you to stay there. It was the first time you'd seen him since then. It was only when he raised the carton to you - a peace offering- that you were able to move your limbs and walk over to Steve. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans, and your mind was cast back to the sweatshirt sitting in your hamper getting buried under clothes like that would make it disappear. When you took a cigarette, Steve held the lighter out and lit it for you. An entirely too flirtatious gesture given the gossipy climate.

"You took off on Sunday," he said, a statement and not a question. His voice was indifferent, but his brows furrowed as he spoke. "Left your clothes behind."

"Yeah, I did." You took long drags, hoping the edge in your voice was a clear enough message to Steve that you didn't need to talk about that. He scooted over on the hood, an invitation to sit. You remained standing, and Steve pursed his lips.

You didn't need to be told to relive the awkwardness you felt when you'd woken up. The way Steve was already awake , tall silhouette in the doorway as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom. The room was suddenly too small, Steve's clothes suddenly suffocating. You heard the shower turn on, sensing time for escape. You'd thrown on your shoes, crept out of the room and booked it out of the Harrington house. Steve had watched as you disappeared down the street from the bathroom window. You'd caught a glimpse of his figure as you threw a nervous glance over your shoulder, fearful of prying eyes seeing you do a walk - or run- of shame from the house.

"Been looking for you, you know." He said, almost shy as he squinted into the sun.

"Not very hard, clearly." you scoffed. When Steve just looked at you, eyes soft, you went on. "Why?"

"Why do you think," it was Steve's turn to laugh, though his was not mocking. It was sincere, too kind. Real. "I want to talk to you."

Knots formed in your stomach, and your brows knit together in a tight line. "What is there to talk about?" you said harshly, feeling a pang of guilt as Steve recoiled, "we slept together, Steve. It happened, cool. End of story." You said, turning to walk away when Steve reached for your elbow.

"Well, hang on there a second," Steve said, stubbing his cigarette out and standing, hands on his hips, "I think there's some stuff to talk about." He looked around, nervous for prying eyes. "Like the fact that that," he said, astounded, "was the best I've ever had." He took a step closer to you. You shrugged him off when he rested a hand on your arm. "There's clearly something between us, here."

You hated to admit it, or agree with him in any way, but Steve was right. You'd had your share of guys, but Steve was unlike any of them. The sex was incredible, as was the chemistry. You'd had to re-live it, in excruciating detail, most nights since the party. But Steve was not a good guy to get involved with, and not someone you could forgive yourself for forgiving. So you remained stand offish, cold, to the boy.

"Sex is sex , Steve, you'll find another 'best' in a month." You dismissed, wishing you'd ignored him and gone straight home. His face was pleading, and it made him look younger, like a lost child looking for their mother. “Look, it was a one time thing. Go back to Tommy and Carol, and forget it ever happened. Got it?”

Steve’s face contorted, a mix of frustration and confusion and a little bit of anger. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. He was meant to find you the day after, be there at your door with a speech prepared about how truly sorry he was for how things went. But he was so taken a back by your escape, the only proof that you had been there being your clothes strewn about across his bedroom floor, that he just sat by his pool staring into space. He was meant to call you, convince you to come over so you could talk it out. But then he couldn’t find your number - and god forbid he call Nancy to get it.

Steve was conflicted. He was heartbroken about his breakup with Nancy. He loved her , or thought he loved her, with everything he had. But this part of him, this nagging part that wouldn’t shut up, was more hurt by you leaving. Upset that he couldn't drive you home or kiss you goodbye or convince you to stay just a little longer. He regretted not saying more in the moment, because maybe then you wouldn't have skipped out on him. If he'd just talked more, maybe stood up for you a little, then perhaps you would have stayed.

"Can we just go somewhere and talk?" he said, eyes pleading and a little desperate. "Please?"

His begging made your stomach churn. You had to get away from him, before whatever magnetic bullshit he had on you went into full effect and you threw yourself into his arms and agreed to hear him out. You stubbed your cigarette out with your shoe.

"I'm going home, Steve."

You hoped that your curtness would deter him. A nagging part of you felt bad, worrying that maybe - just maybe- you should have heard Steve out, that you were robbing yourself of some kind of closure both for your past and for that night. The other, more logical, half felt firm and strong. Finally, finally, it was you making Steve Harrington feel defeated. For once it was him feeling wronged.

You threw his clothes in the laundry when you got home.

It was seven thirty when Chrissy called you, and you were laid back on your bed. Her sudden excitement caught you off guard. "Woah, Chris, slow down," you said, "in English please."

"We're going to a pool party tomorrow!" she all but yelled, and you could imagine her riffling through her dresser for swim suit options. "And before you say no, it's the last pool party of the season before it gets so cold that we have to look like artic explorers for the next three months." There was a clunk, and then Chrissy let out a euphoric squeal. "Found it!"

You rolled over on to your side, twirling the phone cord in your hand as you laughed at your friend. "Okay, okay, I'll go. Who's throwing a pool party this close to Halloween?" you asked, face screwed up at the thought of the late October breeze on bare legs.

"It's Steve Harrington!"

You sat right up in bed, almost dropping the phone off the side of the bed. Of course, of course, he was throwing another party. And of course, you'd already agreed to go. "Oh," was all you could say.

"Look, I know Saturday was pretty intense," Chrissy argued, not realising just how correct her statement was, "but you can just stick with me, and even Eddie is going so he'll be there if you feel the urge to kick Harrington into the pool."

The knowledge that Munson - a long time friend and supplier of party materials for you and Chrissy- would be in attendance made the nausea somewhat subside. But the thought of going back to the Harrington residence, the thought of seeing Steve there again after the way today had gone, made bile rise in your throat. "Okay," you said to Chrissy, knowing you would be able to show your face for twenty minutes before convincing Eddie to let you smoke in the back of his van before getting a ride home, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You fell back on the bed, wishing the mattress would swallow you. It was like you were an alcoholic going into a bar, or rather a masochist for allowing yourself to relive what had caused you significant pain. You didn't even know if you had swimsuit still.

Digging through your dresser, finding sparkly denim from middle school, you thought your search was over. But then, in the very back of the bottom draw, you found your old prized possession.

The red sports illustrated bikini from 10th grade.

You'd bought it as a joke on a hot summer's day in 1983, a mall trip with Nancy on one of the many days you spent together attached at the hip. The poster next to the rack of bikinis had Brooke Shields, posed flirtatiously on a rocky beach, in the red suit. "You should get this for the pool!" Nancy had suggested, picking up the material and holding it to your chest. "It would look amazing!"

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you looked at it in Nancy's hands. "Are you kidding?", you exclaimed, holding the flimsy bikini in your hands, "it looks like an eye patch!" You fought with Nancy over it, citing that your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you wearing it. In the end, Nancy bought it for you, told you that you should save it for "knocking boys dead in college." At the time, you agreed with her. Looking back, it was a put down.

Nancy was an expert at the accidental back handed compliment.

Holding the suit in your hands, your senior body much more equipped for the top than your 10th grade self, a sly smirk etched its way on to your lips. You were going to knock the boys dead, after all.

You had arranged with Eddie that he would pick you up the next night at 7:30, parked down the street near the pay phone. The Munson boy called you at 7:25, letting you know he was on the corner of your cul-de-sac, ready to roll. When you walked to his car, Eddie rolled down the passenger side window with a slack jaw. He looked you up and down without shame, eyes wide. You were wearing a pair of denim shorts, the red bikini top and a denim jacket.

"How much for a ride around the block, sweetheart?" he smiled wolfishly, fishing his wallet out of his jeans.

You smacked his shoulder as you buckled your seatbelt, though you knew he was being tame. "Careful , Munson, before my mother hears you from the house." Eddie let out a hysterical chuckle.

"Oh, I think we both know you can drop the innocent act, sweetheart. Let's not forget I've seen you dance on bars after some Special K." He started the engine, music blaring through the speakers. Turning the corner of your street, he looked at you. "You're not fooling anyone."

You hoped you would fool some people, as the ride to Steve's house seemed impossibly shorter than the week prior. You gripped the seat next to you as Eddie found a spot on the street to park. You felt worse than last Saturday, entirely out of your depth and swallowed by nerves. Eddie cut the engine, a worried knit in his brow. "You good?" he asked, waving a hand in front of your eyes.

"Eds," you said, worried waver in your voice. "What...have you got on you now?" You said, eyes speaking the words the nausea prevented you from saying. "I think I need a boost."

The crinkle between his brows deepened. In the years that Eddie had known you - both loner and in your party days- you had never asked him for supplies before a party. There was a small, but concerned, frown on his face. "What's going on man?", he asked, turning completely toward you, "you freaked or something?"

You wracked your brain for any excuse other than the obvious. You'd known Eddie a long time. If anyone was going to let you spew your guts, without judgement, it was Eddie Munson.

"Listen," you started, " I did something really stupid at that party last week. Like, catastrophically stupid." When Eddie stayed silent, you went on. "I'm going to tell you something, and you have to swear you won't tell anyone."

"Who am I gonna tell?" He laughed, cutting himself short when you face hardened. "Okay," he said, "I swear. Girl's Scouts honour."

You told him everything. From the interaction with Carol and Tommy, to hearing Steve and Nancy break up. You told him about the kiss, the bathroom counter.....the shower. You told him how you'd run the next morning, how you'd been so sick from guilt. You told him every last excruciating detail. Eddie's eyes were wide, in an unreadable mix of shock, confusion and almost pride.

"What....the fuck," he whispered, a teasing smile on his face. "That's intense, and I'm not judging, but," he leaned in close, whispering to you. You leaned in as well. "You let Steve Harrington shoot his load in you?"

The way he said it, unforgiving and entirely true - making you realise just how reckless the entire thing was- made you cringe inward, hiding your face in your hands. "Eddie!"

"Hey, no judgement....," he grimaced a little, another laugh causing him to smile, "except maybe a little judgement here, the dude's a tool!" When you continued to hide your face, Eddie pulled a small bag out of his pocket. "Just a little alright? Lord knows I'd need it if I were you."

That's how you ended up doing a few bumps off a Motley Crue CD in the passenger seat of Eddie's van. You were raring to go, the nausea lurking back into its hiding place as you went through the side gate to Steve Harrington's back yard. You called Chrissy's name from the pool steps when you saw her playing chicken with Jason and a few of the other cheerleaders. The moment Chrissy locked eyes with you across the pool, her own jaw went slack.

"HOLY SHIT."

Her exclamation made almost every head turn your way. You'd taken off the jacket, giving Eddie the job of holding your things - which he begrudgingly excepted-, your red bikini top now on full display. Several eyes on you at once, the buzz of Eddie's special K and the continuous thrum of the music made you feel exceedingly alive. What's more, you felt a certain someone staring daggers into the side of your head, having noticed him in the corner of the pool the very second you stepped foot into his back yard. You kept your eyes forward, looking anywhere but at him.

This was a party.

Chrissy jumped off of Jason's shoulders, sending him flailing back into the water as she swam over to you on the side. Hoisting herself up, she enveloped you in a dripping wet hug. "Just where have they been hiding, huh?" she said, eyes darting to your chest and back again. You laughed at her candour, her inability to hide her every thought. "Don't just stand there, come get a drink! Mind if I steal her, Eddie? Promise I'll give her back." She said with a giggle, swaying your connected hands between the two of you.

"She knows where I'll be," he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Come find me if you need me, alright?" He said. You smiled at him, thankful that he had been there for you. You felt tons lighter now that someone else knew your secret.

Chrissy dragged you to the make shift bar on a table by the grass, coolers of beer and the notorious punch bowl calling your names. She grabbed you a glass, giving you a generous ladle full of punch that was so strong it had a resemblance to the smell of paint thinner. "So," she said, getting herself a drink, "what's going on with you and Eddie?" You nearly choked at her words.

"Me and Eddie, no way," you said, turning to look at the boy. He was wearing dark swim trunks and his guitar pic necklace. His chest full of tattoos was on full display, earning him the attention of several girls. "There's nothing going on there." Chrissy was watching you intently, the way your eyes travelled down Eddie's toned chest, lingering on the ink closest to his hip bones, pool lights accentuating their v shape. "No way."

"His eyes are up there, babe." She said, giggling as you turned back to her with a face the same colour as the red solo cup in your hand.

Eddie and you had been friends for too long, seen each other in every awkward phase, to be anything more than close friends. Sure, you both found each other attractive. That much was clear from the occasional oggling you each gave each other. You had even kissed once in 9th grade, the memory of said interaction haunting you both so much that any thought of being anything other than each other's friend sent a ghostly shiver up your spines. You'd been denying dating accusations from your mother and Eddie's Uncle Wayne for years. Uncle Wayne still had his suspicions, citing that no two teenagers needed to spend that much time in Eddie's room with a locked door. He just didn't know you were doing Special K and not each other.

"No way," you said again, taking a large swig of your drink, "way too much history there." Beside you, Chrissy smirked. With a quirked brow, she looked from you to the Munson boy, then back to you.

"Whatever you say," she said , tone full of disbelief. She bumped your shoulder with her own, prodding a teasing finger into your still flushed cheeks. "But I've got a radar for these things."

You held back a laugh, self deprecating and and entirely inappropriate, as you thought of how off Chrissy's radar was last weekend, how you and a certain brown eyed boy had completely forgone her so called sixth sense.

The party was in full swing by the time someone suggested a Keg Stand. You were in the pool with Chrissy and the other cheerleaders, laughing as the boys - including Eddie, which made you smile as he'd never gotten along with Jason and the basket ball players- relentlessly splashed you. All the while, you continued to feel a pair of eyes on the back of your head. You hadn't spared him a glance , enjoying the water and the company and the drinks without the reminder of the pit in your stomach. A circle was gathering round the edges of the pool as Tommy was picking his contenders for the Keg Stand, always too much of a coward to attempt and embarrass himself. "Jason, my man! Come on, show us how its done!"

Jason rolled his eyes at Tommy's antics. "I don't know man, someone's gotta be a designated driver."

"Come on, don't be such a pussy, Jase."

A serge of confidence - maybe down to the heat of the moment, or maybe the two bumps in Eddie's van- made you raise a high hand.

"I'll do it. I'm not driving." You were already hoisting yourself over the edge of the pool as Tommy stuttered over his words, trying to find a reason to say no, or a way to put you down. It was every guys fantasy - a girl in a dripping wet bikini on a keg. You may as well have been the sports illustrated cover you bought the swimsuit from.

"Alright, then. Steve!" Tommy called, and a cold jolt rain through you, "we found you a competitor!"

You felt him stand next to you, felt the heat of his body radiating toward you. You didn't dare look at him. An awkwardness threatened the air, looming. You risked a word.

"May the best man win."

You were hoisted up on to your keg by Jason, the rest of the basketball players gathered round and cheering you on. Steve was thrown on by Tommy, Carol next to him, and a gaggle of girls had come to watch. "Alright, " Tommy began, "two minutes for the whole keg. No breaks. Loser has to leave the party."

"It's my party, dip shit." Steve barked, frustration clear through his gritted teeth.'

"Guess you better win then, Harrington."

Your hands tightened on the side of the keg, knuckles going white with nerves. Tommy counted down from three, blowing a whistle to mark the start of your time. You were never a beer girl, but in the face of loosing to Steve Harrington in front of a crowd of people it could have been mistaken for your favourite drink. You chugged the cheap booze like you were a desert explorer stumbling on an oasis. The cheers of the crowd were silent on deaf ears, your only focus being the tube in your mouth and your grip on the keg. Your eyes were closed, the world drowned out. You were definitely going to puke, and you were definitely going to loose. Your brows scrunched in anger at the thought of the humiliation. Steve Harrington, getting the glory again. It made your eyes burn with the threat of angry, embarrassed tears. It made you question why you'd even agreed to come tonight.

The tug on your legs brought you back to earth, jovial cheers from both Chrissy and basketball teams as they pulled you down before lifting you on to Eddie's shoulders being the first indicators to your short circuiting brain. You'd finished your keg in one minute and thirty two seconds. The pool was alive with celebratory splashing. The crowd around the kegs began chanting your name, following Eddie's lead as he cupped his hands and heckled.

"All hail the new Queen of Hawkins!"

You caught Steve's eye as he glared at the scene unfolding around him. He tossed his cup on the ground - you had to hold back a laugh at his childish antics- as he stormed off, disappearing inside the open door at the edge of the house. A smug grin stretched from one ear to another as Eddie let you down to the ground. "You showed him who's boss, that's for sure," he chuckled, eyes following Steve's retreating figure. "Who knew he was such a sore loser."

"Maybe I should go and talk to him." You said, the beer telling you it was a fantastic idea. The devious smile on Eddie's face told you otherwise. "Oh yeah, because there'd be so much talking going on," he said, making an O shape with his hand before shaking it, "so much to talk about, isn't there."

You nearly ripped his arm off. The look on your face was murderous, and Eddie's laughter only grew louder.

"I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Ouch!", Eddie cried, devilish grin driving you nuts, "Lucky boy!"

You made your way to the kitchen of the Harrington house, which was the last place you saw Steve go. He wasn't there, no body was. The whole lower floor was desolate, every room a ghost town of empty cups and discarded shoes. You braved a peek up the stairs, craning your neck to see if he was lingering on the landing, to no avail. You crept up the stairs, foot steps leaving damp spots on the carpet and creaking on the old wood. Just as the rest of the house was, it was deserted.

All doors were shut tight. Harrington clearly did not want to be found. You would allow him space to wallow in his loss, already missing the glory and attention of the pool. You were reaching for the banister when a warm hand grabbed your shoulder and dragged you back into a linen closet.

With a yank of a light, Steve's face was illuminated. His face was stony, annoyed, eyes dark. It would have been scary, had you not just seen him throw a tantrum like a toddler.

Your hair dripping water on to the floor of the closet was the only sound other than the both of you breathing ragged, laboured breaths. There was a long silence before either one of you spoke.

"You sure have a flare for the dramatic," you said, gesturing to the light and the confines of the closet. "You couldn't fit in the pantry?"

Steve just looked at you, jaw set in a tight line. His eyes, however, darted all over your face; your eyes, lips, nose, cheeks. Bored of his silence, you tried for the door. He stepped in front of you., You got a dreadful sense of deja vu. "Okay, we're not doing this again."

"Hell yes we are," Steve finally said voice gruff. He had a brooding stare in his face, eyes frustrated and a little desperate - fearful. It looked as if he were worried you'd skip out on him again.

You glared up at him, irritated beyond measure.

"I came up here to see if you were okay after your little outburst out there, but you're acting like a real entitled douche here, Harrington." You pushed his shoulder - a little harder than you intended, only meaning to move him. He stumbled back a bit, the stacks of towels on the shelves cushioning his back. "Get out of my way."

He finally stepped to the side.

You were twisting the door knob when he spoke, barely above a whisper and muffled by the sounds of the party. "I cannot, and I mean cannot - as hard as I try- stop thinking about you."

Your head was screaming at you to go. To run down the stairs, say goodbye to Chrissy and find Eddie to drive you home. Every part of you was telling you to go. The door was open a crack, you could hear the voices of people outside more clearly now.

"You're all I can think about," Steve continued.

'Move', you thought. 'Move, god damn it.'

You felt Steve behind you. You could feel the warmth of his skin brushing against yours, feather light in touch, as he stepped closer to you. When you didn't move away, not an inch - part of you electrified at the scene unfolding before you- Steve's arm came over yours, hand resting on top of your own. "Close the door," he said, lips against the shell of year as he spoke. You shivered as his breath tickled your skin. With deliberate slowness, his hand on yours closed the crack in the door, shrouding the space in the warm glow of the singular lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

It was as though your whole body was on fire. Every nerve in your body on full throttle, tingling with anticipation.

"I tried to stop," Steve began, "thinking about you, I mean." His voice was quiet, soft. Ridiculously alluring. "Tried going back to how it was before. Tried to hate you again." He looked down at this feet, as if the words he was so desperately trying to say would be written in the carpet. "But I just couldn't stop thinking about it. Us."

"Steve-"

"Then you show up here with Munson? Of all people, to what, rub it in my face a little? Make me feel worse?" He raised his voice a little, his sudden and overt jealousy making your stomach flip. "Felt like my chest was gonna explode, I was so pissed." He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall. "Munson, of course." He muttered.

"There's nothing going on with Eddie, Steve."

"Oh, spare me," he said, "I saw you two together. The way he touched your shoulder? Earlier, by the pool?"

"Oh god, not my shoulder." You said, voice mocking.

"Come on, I see the way you guys watch each other." Steve argued, arm waving up in annoyance. "He looks at you like you're his girl!"

"And that bothers you because?"

Steve was silent after that, unable to speak the words he really wanted to without sounding like a jealous lunatic.

You took a step closer to him. His eyes met yours, frustrated and wide and even a little tormented. In a strange way, you liked it, that he was so beaten up over you. It made you feel a little better about being so haunted by the encounter, as well. Another part of you was revelling in the knowledge that Steve Harrington was hung up on you, after only one night. With a gentle hand, you grabbed Steve's wrist. "Steve," you said in a low voice, "there's nothing going on between Eddie and I. Okay?"

"How do I know that for sure?" he whispered, insecure.

You lifted his hand, eyes on his, and placed it on your shoulder. When you let go, his hand remained there. "Because," you said, " a shoulder means absolutely nothing."

Steve visibly relaxed, his shoulders became less hunched and he took a big sigh of relief. All the while, his hand remained on your shoulder.

You took another step toward Steve then, brain screaming at you to run, but the fire in your stomach telling you to stay, stay, stay. You leaned up on your tip toes, lips an inch away from his ear. "Besides," you said, "my shoulder is reserved just for you."

Steve sucked in a ragged, deep breath.

"You really shouldn't have said that." His voice was hoarse, gruff. It fanned the flames in your stomach to a blaze.

"And why's that?" you taunted, head cocked to the side as you looked up at Steve. A wicked, wolfish grin had stretched across his lips. He backed you into the wall, almost no space between you as his nose brushed against the shell of your ear. "Because," his lips grazed over your temple, "if you thought before was good," his hand grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eyes. "We're just getting started."

It was as if a switch flipped inside him as Steve crashed his lips to yours. While he was passionate before, now he was animalistic. He was all teeth as he kissed you, nipping your bottom lip in a way that said 'this is something only I get to do', and it made you groan aloud. Your hands crept up to his hair, only for him to grip your wrists and pin them above your head.

"Uh uh," he said, teasing and with entirely too much enjoyment. "Those stay right there."

You panted, out of breath, staring into Steve's lust blown eyes. You were completely shocked by this side of him. It was, quite possibly, the hottest thing you'd ever witnessed. In the brief pause, the quiet catching of breath, Steve's face came closer to yours.

"Is this okay?" He said, concern on his face, realising he may have been too intense. His brows were knit together in a soft V shape. You nodded, slow and sure. You were perfectly content to have Steve do anything he wanted to you. "Yeah, it's okay." You whispered. The teasing smile crept back on to his face. "Alright then."

And then he was kissing your neck, most definitely leaving marks as he sucked and nipped the skin on the hollow of your throat. You bit your lip at the thought of having to hide them, of being marked by him, thankful for the approaching cold season and the invention of turtle necks. One hand on your wrists, Steve's free one crept up your sides and found purchase on your hips, gripping them tightly. "God," he groaned, "do you have any idea," - a particularly hard bite on your collar bone- "how much I've thought about you this week?" His grip on your waist was impossibly tighter in the moment, pulling your hips into his own. Your only response was a breathy moan as he bucked into you.

He loosened the grip he had on your wrists, allowing your arms to slide down the wall and into his hair - he fell apart at the way you touched him, having thought about it all week. "I thought about you," he dropped down to your chest, placing kisses there. "Every," - a kiss to your torso- "single"- one to your stomach- "night." He sank down to his knees, staring up at you with swollen lips and blown out eyes. "It's like I was haunted by you. Couldn't get you out of my head." He kissed his way back up to your lips, his fingers tugging on your bottom lip with a twisted smile. "Thought about you so much, had to throw out your panties."

"You pervert." You said against his mouth, but the thought of Steve, bent over in pleasure, as he jacked off into your panties made you throb.

His hands toyed with the strings on your bikini bottoms, the flimsy material begging to be ripped off. He raised an eyebrow at you - a silent ask- and you nodded hurriedly. He pulled the knot free at an agonizingly slow pace, taunting you as your chest heaved in anticipation. He was torturous. Devilish, even. You loved it. He ripped the other knot open off hastily, making you gasp. Your lower half was completely exposed. "Do you want me?" he asked, and though his voice was hoarse and undeniably confident, his eyes wavered as he looked into your own with the slightest hint of uncertainty. You nodded, breathless and a little desperate. Steve tilted your head with his hand, thumb resting on the column of your throat, mocking smile on his lips. "I'm not touching you 'til you say it."

"Yes, God yes, I want you Steve."

"How much?" He was getting cocky then, and as much as it irritated you, it turned you on immensely. "Tell me how much."

"I thought about you, too," you said, breath hitching as he trailed a finger up and down your leg. "Couldn't help myself." That same wicked smile was on Steve's face as you spoke. "Couldn't get the feeling right again, tried so hard."

"Show me."

When your eyes darted to his, you could hardly see his irises. His eyes were practically black with lust, mouth agape as he took you in. When you didn't move, half embarrassed and half in disbelief, he guided your hand to your centre. "Show me how you touched yourself," he pushed your hand down, thumb swiping your clit. You gasped, desperate for any friction as the ache in your stomach flared. "He placed a kiss right under your belly button, eyes boring into yours. "Show me."

You felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck and on to your cheeks, thankful for the dim light. You sank you hand down, closing your eyes to save some semblance of your dignity. Steve Had other ideas. "Uh, uh, uh," he said, taunting. "Eyes on me."

You opened your eyes to see a completely, utterly hypnotised Steve. Every twitch, every half-movement was caught by his eager eyes. Knowing that you had so much power over him gave you a power trip, a major boost of confidence. The sight before you - a wild haired, wide eyed, practically drooling Steve Harrington- drove you crazy.

You dropped your hand down your stomach, fingers tracing the skin as they got ever closer to where you needed them most. You thought back to the nights after the party, the way you'd arched your back off your mattress pretending it was Steve's fingers getting you there, that it was Steve making your legs tremble.

You grazed your clit with your index finger, sighing as you made small circles there. You moaned, your pace picking up as you grew more impatient that Steve wasn't the one touching you and more embarrassed as time went on. You rested your head against the wall, gazing at Steve across the small space. He was shifting the front of his swim trunks around, growing impossibly more aroused every second he looked at you. Your chest began to tighten with short breaths as your hand grew quicker, the band in your stomach on the brink of snapping. You were sent over the edge at the sight of Steve palming himself, mouth in a silent 'O' shape as he watched you fall apart. The small closet felt like a sauna as you caught your breath.

"Jesus Christ," Steve said, a hoarse whisper as though his throat was bone dry - which it was. He'd never seen anything so hot in his life. "Get over here."

You launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck as his own caught your waist. Your lips met in a brawl of need, smothering yourselves in one another. Steve gripped your face with a strong hand, guiding your chin so that his tongue could slip into your mouth with ease. He backed you against the wall, hands roaming all over your skin. You may as well have been on another planet, the raging party below having no influence on either one you letting out loud moans and groans. You felt on fire, sure that if you opened your eyes and looked down your body would be a scorched mess. Your core ached, desperate for any friction as Steve's clothed front rubbed against your centre.

"Steve," you whined against his lips, loud and high pitched. He was pressing into you now, and you felt you were going to go crazy if you weren't thrown on a bed in that very second. "Let's go somewhere else." When he pulled away to look at you, he quirked a brow cheekily.

"Aye aye, Captain."

Stuffing your bottoms in his pocket, Steve cracked the door ajar and peaked out. The coast was clear. He threw you - naked from the chest down- over his shoulder, and ran to the bedroom closest to the closet. It was his own, thank god. The door closed with a slam, and then you were against it, head cushioned by the coats and towels hanging from the hook.

"If you don't do something in the next thirty seconds," you said, voice desperate as Steve kissed your neck whilst his hands trailed up and down your bare back - fingers fiddling with the draw string of your bikini-, "I'm outta here, Harrington."

"Oh yeah," Steve challenged smugly, "to do what?"

You felt like pushing his buttons, testing him. His dominance displayed in the closet made you unbelievably wet, and you were hoping it was going to reappear. "Well," you began, voice full of mock innocence, "not what, rather who." Steve's arm tensed up around your body. His head whipped toward you, eyes darkening with lust and annoyance. "Who knows, maybe Eddie can help me out-"

You didn't even have to finish your sentence before Steve was scooping you up in his arms, limbs wrapped tightly around your middle as you both crashed on to the mattress. He was hovering above you with the most addictive expression on his face - a look that said "I need you, I crave you,"- and you wished that every time you closed your eyes you would see that look. Steve ripped off his shorts in a flash, stroking himself as he leaned down to you.

"You think it's funny, huh? To tease?" he said, voice wracked with desire as he watched you. You'd begun to slowly peel off your bikini top. He pulled the strap back and let it snap against your skin, grinning when you yelped. "You're in for it, babe."

The nickname had your stomach swirling with arousal, and you were sure you were leaking on to Steve's sheets from how turned on you were. He made his way between you, knee up against your clit as he ground in to you. When you bit your lip, he smiled. He sat up on his knees, stroking himself as he looked down at you. A rosy glow had donned your cheeks, both from the heat of the room and the heat of having a very attractive man tease himself in front of you. A sheen had begun to cling to your hair line. You looked entirely wrecked, and Steve had hardly touched you. His stomach flipped at the sight. He pushed your legs apart with his knee, pressing the head of his cock through your folds , delighting in the whiny pleas you let out.

"Say something for me," Steve asked, hissing as his head brushed your clit as he bucked into you.

"Anything, god, please, Steve." You would recite a whole Shakespeare play in that moment if it meant that he would fuck you. "Anything."

"Say you forgive me."

You suddenly weren't miles away. You were now hyper aware that you were in Steve's bed, in Steve's house, with Steve. Steve, who had ruined your life for so many years. Steve, who had stood by people and watched as they hurt you. Steve, who had taken your best friend from you. Steve, who had bared a piece of himself to you. Steve, who had wanted you. Steve, who had shown you who he really was. Steve, who you also desperately wanted, despite your complicated feelings about the past you both shared. The room was silent for a nano-second, before you grabbed his face in your hands.

"I forgive you."

In the midst of a very heated moment, Steve leaned down and pressed a very gentle kiss to your lips. "Thank you" he said.

Then he pushed into you, all the way, without warning and your choked moans filled the room. The stretch, while slightly painful, was glorious. Steve filled you up entirely, and you felt as though you were being split open while simultaneously feeling whole. With both hands beside you head as he hovered over you, Steve panted ragged breaths. "Oh my god, you feel amazing," he groaned. His face contorted in pleasure as you clenched around him. "God, can I move? Please, baby, can I?"

"Yes, god, move." Was all you could stutter out before Steve was rocking into you , pace wild and hard. The head board of his bed clanged against the wall, and you were thankful for the thrum of music outside. You held back screams as Steve hit that spot inside you with every single thrust.

Your legs felt like jelly as Steve grabbed your thighs, pulling himself into you with vigour. "Fuck," he moaned, unapologetically loud and undeniably hot, "fuck, I'm not gonna last long." You hands were gripping the sheets, hardly aware that he was talking as his stomach grazed your clit with every movement.

"Let me on top then," you said, and Steve wasn't a religious man, but he swore that was the moment he died and went to heaven. Steve flipped the two of you over, his back against the head board with your chest in his face. 'Heaven,' he thought as you swung your legs over his and grabbed him in your hands, sinking down on until he was all the way inside of you. "Oh my god." You said breathlessly, the feeling entirely different and absolutely better than before.

You used Steve's shoulder for leverage as you moved up and down on him, whining out high pitched moans as he thrusted up to meet you, gripping your hips tightly. You felt the coil building in your stomach. You looked down at Steve, his eyes drawn to where your bodies connected. "That's the hottest thing I've ever fucking seen," he said, eyes dilated and face red. He was right, it was unusually hypnotic to watch as your aching centre swallowed Steve's cock with every movement.

Steve's brows were knit together, determined to last but the reality that the two of you were going to come undone was fast approaching. "I wanna fill you up, wanna see my cum drip out of you. Can I cum inside you, baby?" he panted into your hair, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your torso as he sat up, thrusting even harder up into you.

"Yes, yes yes, please Steve," you cried as his fingers crept down and began fast, tight circles on your clit. "Cum inside me, fill me up, god, please please please."

Steve let go the second you did, one final - particularly deep- thrust sending you over the edge and into Steve's chest. You felt as hot ropes of his cum shot deep into you, felt as it began to drip out o you and down your thighs. You panted into Steve's ear, chest heaving as you both came down from your highs. His hand, still between your legs, swiped up your centre, gathering the mixture of your arousals. He ran the same finger across your lips. "Open, " he said, grinning wickedly as you sucked his finger clean. "Dirty, dirty girl."

You hopped off of Steve, legs numb as you collapsed next to him on the bed. You didn't bother to cover up, the two of you no longer shy. There was a brief pause, and you felt like the prickly stickiness of sweat- and other things- on your skin. You mustered the strength to stand, stretching as you did, and made you way to the bathroom connected to Steve's. When Steve remained in bed, you turned over your shoulder as you stood in the door way. "You coming?"

Steve moved faster than you'd ever seen, practically tripping over himself, to meet you in the bathroom. Gazing at the shower, you opted to run the taps of the bath instead. The room quickly filled with steam, the mirrors fogging up. Once the tub was full, you hopped in and sat down, sighing as the warm water covered your sore legs. Steve sank down behind you, legs coming to rest beside your own, and you didn't move when his arms wrapped round your waist. Instead, you leaned back and rested your head on his shoulder.

Steve's hands ran soap up and down your arms gently, rinsing and repeating with mindless softness. he just wanted the excuse to hold you longer, feel you against him more. When his hand came down your arm again, you caught it. You fiddled with his fingers, a shyness washing over you slightly. Steve just intertwined your hands, and continued to rinse the soap off of your skin.

"What is this now?"

Steve's question hung in the warm air like the steam clung to the mirror glass. It was like you could see it in front of you, floating in a taunting cloud. It was the thing neither one of you wanted to ask, perfectly content to stay in the bath and ignore every nagging though that urged both of you to ask the other 'do you want me outside of these walls?'

You sucked in a deep breath, turning to look at Steve from where your head rested on his shoulder. "I don't know." You admitted. You didn't want to say the wrong thing and ruin the moment. "We can talk about that, though."

Steve smiled gently, resting his head on top of yours. "What do you want it to be?" He asked softly, your hand still in his.

"Is this your very long winded way of asking to be fuck buddies?"

"No," Steve chuckled to himself, "no, it's not." He sat up slightly, facing you more. "I'm saying that," he paused, struggling for the right words. "I know how I felt when I thought you and Munson were, whatever I thought you were." He said, eyes soft as he looked at you. "I know how much I missed you being round after you left."

You dropped your gaze , ashamed of your behaviour. Steve's hand moved your chin to meet his eye again, smiling that stupidly attractive smile. "I know I want you."

"I want you too, Steve." You said, almost sadly.

"Then we have something in common," he smiled again, and you rolled your eyes at him. "We can start there, and see where we go."

You didn't talk about what people might say, how you'd probably have to hide in his room or yours, secluding yourselves in VHS tapes in living rooms and candle lit dinners in kitchens. You didn't talk about how hard it would be, to keep the secret, to not talk about one another for a while. You didn't mind though. The two of you enjoyed the idea of the coming winter, the cover of darkness that meant you could walk to one another. The image of you huddled in one of Steve's sweaters as the first snow fell flashed through Steve's mind, and he felt his heart thud in his chest as he looked at you.

Warmth spread through your chest as you imagined Steve beside you on the tiny couch in your living room, fighting over the last slice of pizza as the credits rolled on a cheesy movie he'd rented. You revelled in the thought of getting to know Steve, not the King of Hawkins High, just Steve. And the thought of him knowing you as you were now, the matured and hardened version of you, made you stomach do flips as you looked at him.

"We'll see where we go." You agreed.

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

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[writingquestionsanswered]

how does one cope when mid-way through they realize they are writing a tragedy and there is no possibility of a happy ending? especially when that was not the original intention? i'm absolutely gutted by this realization and i hate that i feel wedded to it.

Upset Because Story Went Off the Rails

You're a Writer, Not a Marionette - Long ago, I bought into the believe that characters and stories have minds of their own... that it was beyond my control if my character did X when I wanted them to do Y... that there was nothing I could do if my happy meet-cute story decided to be a dark tale of horror. It can be kind of fun (and freeing, honestly) to believe we're just helpless vessels through which some greater storytelling force speaks, but that's not the case at all. There's no magical entity pulling the strings beyond your control. If your character does X and you wanted them to do Y, you did that, not your character. If your happy meet-cute turns into a tragic horror, you did that, not your story. You're the writer, and you're in control of everything that does or does not happen in your story.

Does It Make the Story Better? - Human brains are incredible things, and sometimes when your character does X when you intended for them to do Y, it's because some part of your brain realizes that's the better choice. Maybe it's more believable or more natural. Maybe it just works better with what you're laying out. Maybe it's just more interesting. So, the trick is to look at the unintended thing that happened and ask yourself if it makes the story better. Make a list of pros and cons... what are the ways the story is better if you stick with X rather than Y. What are the ways it's worse? Ultimately, if the change truly makes the story better, it's worth following through.

Beware of Story Parasites - Parasites are organisms that invade and thrive inside a host organism, at the host organism's expense. When you're writing your WIP and it takes a massive shift in tone, genre, or direction, sometimes that's because a whole new story idea has bullied its way into this one and is now feeding off this story to survive. If the unintended thing doesn't make the story better and leaves you feeling upset about the direction things are heading, you've probably got a story parasite. In which case, the best thing you can do is write the idea down as generally as possible, and set it aside to work on another time. Treating this invasive idea as something distinct from your WIP can help you move on and keep your story on its intended path.

What To Do When the Change Has to Stay - Very rarely, you may find that story's original direction just isn't working, and that this new (and vastly different) direction makes for a much better story. In that case--if you're absolutely certain this is the right path--it's worth making a list of all the reasons this idea will be better. Try to imagine what the story will be like if you stick with the original plan, versus if you make the drastic change. Can you think of anything that excites you about this new idea? Can you find reassurance in the many ways that this story shines versus the original idea?

Ultimately, It's Up to You - If your story takes an unexpected and upsetting turn, and you're certain it's the superior course, and that there's no point in pursuing the story's original path instead, it's worth really taking a look at why it's so upsetting if it's the right thing to do. If you're disappointed that your original plan didn't work out, spend some time trying to figure out how to make the original plan work better than the new idea. If you're upset because this idea is too personal or triggering, set it aside and see if you can come back to it later. You're not obligated to keep working on a story if it shifts in a direction that makes you unhappy or uncomfortable. You can set it aside or figure out a way to keep it in your comfort zone.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[starwrighter]

Dude, get a restraining order

(Masterpost) (Ao3 link) (previous)

(Chapter #5 Ya'll)

Just like he said he would, Damian walked Danny to his earth science classroom. Guiding him through labyrinth-like hallways with a firm grip on his sleeve. It’s as if he thought Danny would slip through his fingers and be swept away by the crowd of students. Embarrassingly enough, that’s an accurate assumption of both his luck and his situational awareness. If he dared to imagine the future, prison bars, sigils, and the outline of a body immediately came to mind.

Forever he’d be thanking the ancients for Damian expert skills in navigating. Without him, he’d probably be curled up at the bottom of a staircase by now. Or in a death cult keen on taking over the world. It might seem ridiculously pessimistic, but freaky escalations like that happened to him all the time! He’d gone from searching for a gift he’d accidentally knocked into the zone to staging a massive prison break! Needless to say, he appreciated the company.

“Since your map is half a century out-of-date; I’ll pick you up around lunchtime,” Damian declared, curtly waiting for his response.

”Sounds good,” Giving the other boy a small wave and a thankful smile Danny headed into the classroom.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he read the cheesy geology jokes scrawled onto the board. The jokes were stupid in a way only teachers or dads could make them. Puns that could do psychic damage if you dare read them aloud. It’s beautiful. Leagues above a certain English teacher who butchered slang so brutally the lingo died on the spot.

The typical classroom posters lined the walls. A clear bucket full of rocks just sitting on the teacher’s desk as she started taking attendance. He sat close to the front furthest from the door. His blindside faced the wall, nobody could sneak up on him and he wouldn’t be trampled when the bell rang. Nobody could gawk pityingly at his face this way. Yeah, you could pry this spot from his cold dead hands.

It might seem extreme but people were…Weird when it came down to his disability. Some people treated him like he was utterly useless, incapable of doing anything on his own. They tried to “help” without bothering to ask about his condition or if he even needed help. It was so much worse the first few months after the accident. He was wheelchair-bound for that. -1/10 wouldn’t recommend.

He could say with certainty nobody wanted to be paralyzed. It’s jarring how differently treated him back then. They’d point out the obvious like he’s completely blind. Annoying, but understandable considering how gnarled his facial injuries were before they healed. It looked like somebody shot him in the face with a firework. The fact that he didn’t lose an eye was a medical miracle backed by new ghostly powers.

What wasn’t understandable was the complete lack of boundaries strangers had with him and his wheelchair. No amount of warning could’ve prepared him for the first time someone grabbed his wheelchair and moved him. He thought it’d been a one-time thing but it happened again and again without fail. Somebody would move him out of the way or try to “Help” him get to where he’s going. Several times without so much of a “Hello! Do you need some help,” people he’d never spoken to would grab the handles of his chair and start pushing him.

It’s infuriatingly dehumanizing and their heartbroken faces when he called them out tugged at his heartstrings. So many times he’d guiltily stewed over his responses. Jazz killed that guilt without so much as a thought when she put things into perspective. Even though Jazz had a habit of psychoanalyzing him it felt good when she said his anger warranted.

Nothing would ever feel as good as taking those first shaky steps outside his wheelchair though. The wave of overwhelming emotion when a group of baffled doctors told him his paralysis wasn’t as permanent as they previously thought was unparalleled. He cried a lot that day. Tears of joy, he’s not ashamed to admit that.

Never in his life would he have thought he’d be grateful for Dash’s bullying. But after a full two months of extensive physical therapy and multiple surgeries, he now knew were unnecessary anyone treating him like they did before was a godsend. Dash believed in a twisted kind of equality when it came to bullying, he’d pick on anyone he deemed a loser. For him, it’d been verbal harassment, but regaining the ability to walk gave him confidence. He was extremely cocky, snapping back with sarcastic venom at every dig made at him.

Slowly but surely, people stopped babying him. It was harder to argue that someone was helpless when they were actively picking fights with the star football player. After all the shit he’d involved himself in people treated him like normal. Normal in the sense he was picked on for being a loser with crazy parents.

He’d take that kind of bullying over the underhanded insults drowned in infantilism. As the months passed it felt like everyone forgot about his accident. His classmates would get angry at him when he couldn’t keep up with them and go green with envy when he got extra time for his assignments. People acted like he was getting special treatment just for the sake of it.

Like full body electrocution was something he could just walk off. They didn’t understand how walking and running were easier than standing in place. He was accused of faking it whenever he stood up from his wheelchair. People were offended that he still considered his left side blind when he could still see light in his peripherals.

Everyone he talked to said he was lucky. Lucky to survive, lucky to walk again without aid, lucky to have all the sweet powers, lucky lucky lucky. He didn’t feel all that lucky when his joints locked or when reading gave him migraines so bad he questioned if being alive was worth it.

He knows it could be worse. Dear god does he know it could be so, so, much worse. He could be fully dead. Charred to a crisp without even a blast shadow as evidence of his death. He should’ve been paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life. Braindead, hooked up to a machine as his family mourned their loss. The consequences of walking into that portal chamber were so much lighter than anyone could’ve imagined. So he dealt with it.

Things could be worse. At least he wasn’t in Gotham directly after his accident. Slipping through solid objects around people 100x more fearful of their surroundings was a wonderful way to speedrun getting his spine shattered by a guy in a bat suit. Or trafficked. Danny winces as he scribbles on a sheet of lined paper.

Someone is staring at him. The boy beside him was shooting daggers into his very soul. Hadn’t even bothered to hide the way his face twisted in suspicion when Danny turned to look him in the eyes.

“You need something?” Danny probed, praying this was just him misreading facial expressions.

“What the hell happened to you?” The other boy whispered, his tone harsh and accusatory.

“A shocking experience,” His half-assed response earns him a sharp glare and a sneer.

“No really, what happened?”

“Got zapped,” He shrugs, hoping his classmate would take the hint and drop it.

“That’s not what I meant,” The other seethed. “How did you get electrocuted?”

”Electricity,”

“The fact you’re dodging my question makes you look more suspicious,”

“Not trauma dumping on a stranger makes me suspicious?”

“It’s Gotham! We don’t get transfer students outside major cities and we certainly don’t get ones willing to stay for months! What are you planning?” He hisses, voice cracking as he tried and failed to make it sound lower.

“Trust me, if I had a choice to stay home I would’ve,”

“I don’t think I do trust you,”

“That's not my problem,” Danny shrugged. This guy spoke with the delusional confidence only the stubbornest flat earther could rival. He’s not a gothamite by any means but wasn’t the key unspoken rule of the city “Mind your damn business unless you’re a bat,” It’s on par with Don’t dig straight down but this guy clearly hadn’t learned of the former.

“Why do you have fangs?”

”Genetics,” What kind of question was that? Plenty of people had fangs. It’s a common trait, almost every person in amity has it!

”I don’t believe you,”

Heh? What’s the point in asking if he wasn’t going to believe him when he answered? It reminded him of a certain annoyance back home.

“Why do you-“

”Leave me alone!” He snaps. It’s like his classmates doing his best impression of a toddler! “Why?” “Why?” “Why?” Desperately trying to catch Danny in a lie and refusing to believe any response that wasn’t a confession of guilt. World's greatest detective over here, interrogating him for having the audacity to show up to Gotham with “Gasp!” Scars! Oh, the humanity! What a delinquent!

Ancients’ weren’t these prissy private schools supposed to be better than public schools? He walked to school today expecting to be murdered and or indoctrinated into a weird death cult not interrogated by Walmart Batman over here!

What was this guy expecting to drag out of him anyway? Blueprints for a deathray? A secret plot to break everyone out of Arkham? Secret rogue plans? He just got here today! What could he possibly be planning when his apartment didn’t even have toilet paper yet? They hadn’t even hit the 24-hour mark and he already had a conspiracy theorist pestering him.

“Why are you-“ Copycat Wes starts.

”Leave him alone you fucking moron!” A female voice snaps behind them.

“ You don’t understand! He-,” Sputtering to defend himself the girl glowered at him.

“Has done nothing to warrant your harassment,” She finished the sentence for him.

”No! He’s up to something I swear! Just look at him,”

The girl looked him up and down, her hazel eyes shooting daggers into his soul. “He looks like he’s a strong breeze away from a heart attack,”

Ouch.

"There is something wrong with him, you're just too dim to see it," He spits.

 

“Listen here you toe-eyed spaz, I don’t want to have to deal with Lightning Rod over here frying people to death because you wouldn’t stop tormenting him!” She seethed, jabbing her finger into Offbrand’s chest.

“How do you know he’s not going to do that regardless?”

She turns her attention back to him. “Are you going to start doing rogue shit?” She speaks calmly as if she’s asking about the weather.

He pretends to ponder for a second, checking his phone for dramatic effect. “ Nah, My sister says I’m not allowed to be a criminal outside my hometown. It’ll affect her chances of getting into a good college,” To his surprise, that’s an acceptable response for her.

”See, he’s fine.”

“Did you not hear a word he said?” Copycat sputters. “He just admitted to being a criminal,”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?” The boy is red in the face now.

”That’s not our problem,” She replied bluntly.

“How is it not our problem?”

“It just isn’t,”

“It clearly is “ He emphasizes.

“This is why you keep getting mugged,” She snaps. “You’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, how have not learned how to mind your damn business,”

“I know how to mind my business. This is my business. You’re the one who butted in,”

“I’m a nosy bitch too. But I’m not the one who’s pretending to be Batman.” She’s smirking now, tapping her fingernails on her desk.

“I’m not pretending to be Batman,” He defends, hands clenched into fists. “I’m just doing my civic duty!”

“You’re delusional,”

“Well- at least I’m not a criminal,” Offbrand Wes sneered, whipping around to glare at him.

Oh great, he’s directly involved again.

“What a scathing remark, I’ll be sure to cry about it while I build my deathray,” Maybe he shouldn’t keep antagonizing. Offbrand looked about ready to strangle him.

“Now you’re pissing him off on purpose,” The girl behind them deadpans.

“ I am, thanks for noticing,” He’s giddy, a shit-eating grin on his face that would immediately get him shanked if he were outside right now.

Their conversation continues. The three of them whisper-yelling at each other. Offbrand Wes fumed at every one of Danny’s sarcastic responses, doubling down on his suspicions. With every absurd accusation thrown his way, the girl defended him. But if you listened in for more than a few seconds you could see she didn’t step to his defense for the sake of being nice. She just really hated this kid. Who could blame her?

The argument devolved into the two gothamites insulting each other in a way only rich kids could. Family names Danny barely recognized as important were thrown around like dodgeballs. Maybe if Danny kept up with celebrity drama he’d be able to tell who’s winning?

“Daniel Fenton? ” He almost jumps at the sudden interruption. He’d been so awestruck watching these two go at each other's throats that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching them. The teacher is staring down at him; he smiles politely. Better to garner goodwill now rather than later.

”I’d like to see you after class today,” Oh god, already? What had he done to peeve this teacher? Did she hear them arguing? Offbrand was grinning, vindicated as Danny stumbled over himself.

“Oh- uh, will it take long? A friend said he’d help me find my classes since my map is a little off.” He offered up the map as proof. A sacrifice in hopes of leniency for whatever crimes he’s about to be accused of.

The woman looked over the paper, her relaxed expression dropping with the growing confusion.

“Can I see your schedule?” Danny hands it over without a word. Slowly, she ran her fingers against the brail of his schedule. The slow shift in her stance as her face paled felt like it’d been ripped straight from the trailer of a horror movie. He’s heard a lot of crazy things in his life but nothing would ever shock him more than what his teacher said next.

“We’re going be sued into the fucking ground,” Her words were barely audible, whispered behind a closed fist. Danny’s stunned silence was a thousand times louder. Teachers could swear here?! Isn’t that illegal? He sits speechless for an agonizing minute, unsure if he’s in trouble.

Wordlessly, she drags him to the front of the classroom. It feels like he’s being walked to the gallows.

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

”Yeah? I need to know my schedule,” Was wandering around clueless detention for Gotham schools? He hadn’t even done anything. Sure, he was a tad bit tardy this morning. That’s the plane's fault, not his!

“You don’t have a school iPad?” She sounds utterly exasperated.

“No,” He’s supposed to have a school iPad?

“Did they at least give you a proper school I.D.?”

”I hope so ” He shows her the plastic card he’d been given alongside his schedule. She scrutinized the card, glaring intently at every word. It’d taken hours to get a decent photo for that stupid card.

“There’s something wrong with it isn’t there?” Screwed over straight from the get-go. He’ll be haunting the front desk for the foreseeable future.

“No, no it’s fine,” She waves him off. “Leave the map with me and drop your schedule off at the front desk when you leave for the day okay?” He nods, that’s all he can do at the moment.

When the bell finally rang their teacher practically shooed his classmates out the door. Students clogged the doorway, a glob of tangled backpacks that slowly oozed into halls separating with miffed expressions. The tile floor couldn’t be more appealing as he waited for the bomb to drop. In a fancy school like this, the punishment for tardiness could be public execution. You never know.

The punishment for seeing the school guidance counselor had been public humiliation with a side of attempted murder. So capital punishment being carried out in schools wasn’t something he’d be surprised about. They’d better have a guillotine, he’s gotten pretty sick of the electric chair.

“Is your friend coming to get you?” The woman asks, still studying the map with a furrowed brow. She squinted at the paper holding out in front of her face like the distance would change the image.

“I think so, he dropped me off here,” Danny pauses, fiddling with the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

She shakes her head much to his relief “Somebody’s going to be in trouble but it certainly isn’t you,”

Patterned knocking at the classroom door draws his attention from the woman. Green eyes met blue as Damian quietly entered the room.

“That’s him!” Beaming, he turns back to the teacher. “Can I go now?” She nods wordlessly. With her approval, Danny doesn't hesitate for a second. He darts over to the other boy with a relieved grin on his face.

“How was class?” He asks as they step out of the classroom.

”Unnoteworthy,” Damian hummed.

”Same,” I mean, technically he did get into a fight. But it wasn’t exactly something to write home about. Blows hadn’t been exchanged and he wasn’t gut-punched with a month's worth of detention. Yet.

The walk to the lunch room is heavily crowded. The cafeteria echoed with the chattering of a sea of teenagers. Their navy blue uniform made clusters of students indistinguishable from one another. Sam would hate it here.

“Hey, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate lunch here?”

“Ten. I bring my food from home,” Damian responds quickly pausing afterward as if he’s contemplating a second answer.

“Fair,” He shrugs “nothing beats some home-cooked edible food,” Memories swirled through his brain like he’s a soldier fresh out of war. Reanimated turkeys, living mashed potatoes, gallons of milk that glowed bright enough to light an entire room.

“I reckon your parents’ aren’t the best chefs?” He can barely hold back a wince at the question.

”They try to be…” He sighs “Dad can make some killer fudge but everything else he cooks looks radioactive,”

“I suppose I can relate to that” Damian drawls, “Most of the family is barred from the kitchen without supervision,”

“That’s probably a good idea, learning to cook can be pretty messy,”

” I take it you’re the cook of your family?” Damian asks, eyebrows raised.

“Eh, kind of? I’m not the best but I can make edible food,”

“The bare minimum you know?” He laughs. “My parents are scientists so there wasn’t exactly time for cooking lessons while they were drilling us on safely handling their machinery,”

Damian looks him up and down, eyes locking on his face. “I don’t think those ‘drills’ did you well,”

“They did. I deliberately ignored what they taught me; fucked around and found out,” He shrugs. The past is the past and he’s learned not to change it for his own sake.

“I see…”

“Soooo…” Danny starts, the silence between the two of them awkward. “How would you rate the school-provided lunch?” He reiterated.

”I’ve only eaten the school-provided lunch once but I’d say it’s a four, maybe four point five if I’m being generous,”

”I’d settle for edible,” It’s a private school. Sure, it being in Gotham threw him off a little but what’s the worst that could happen? He dies? A bit too late for that.

“Your standards concern me,”

“Take that up with my school cafeteria; they gave me those standards,” To be fair, his parents contributed to that too. So had Nasty Burger. He had a love-hate relationship with food especially when it’s from a school cafeteria.

Call him paranoid but Casper High fed people dirt and grass plucked from the football field as a “Vegan option” Don’t even get him started on the rocks. Whole ass stones almost as big as his fist. They’d been expected to eat that?! Anyone who’d gotten nailed with one of those suckers when ‘food’ started flying, forever had his sympathy. Nobody was hospitalized but he’d seen the dents in the wall when they made him clean the cafeteria. Rocks were chucked in that food fight.

He’d gathered his lunch without much of an issue. The salad wasn’t sentient and his sandwich hadn’t screamed at him yet. He’d even managed to remember his lunch number at the end of it! Today’s a good day to be pleasantly surprised by the bare minimum. God knows he's gonna need the extra positivity.

Walking through the cafeteria, he spots Damian pretty quickly. The other somehow found himself one of the only empty tables in the whole cafeteria. When Damian waves him over it takes all his self-control to stifle a grin. For a split second, he’d thought he’d overstepped. Thought he’d missed the signs that Damian wanted him gone like Dad missed the signs that Vlad was a psycho.

“Are you really the chef of your family?” Damian questions.

“I am,” he grins, as Damian eyes him skeptically. “Does this-“ Danny gestures at himself. “Not look like the textbook example of a five-star chef to you?”

“Absolutely not,” Damian replied coldly without skipping a beat. “You look like you could burn a bowl of cereal,”

“I can cook, it just took a while to learn how,” You could only learn so fast when every ingredient is contaminated by a mystery cocktail of chemicals.

Even if he wasn’t a master chef he’s better than he was those first months after the accident. So many dishes shattered against the floor. He’d been scolded for each one. Anything he tried to hold slipped from his grasp before the ten-second mark.

“Could you give me any advice?” Damian asked.

“Try out some pasta recipes,” He comments between bites of his sandwich. “They’re hard to screw up and almost every cookbook has about a dozen you can practice,”

“Don’t go with overly complicated recipes straight off the bat. If you’re trying to make a three-course dinner when you can barely make a peanut butter jelly sandwich you’ll end up with a whole lot of wasted food and some scratched pans,” Danny warns, he’s lost count of the hours he’d spent scrubbing the charred food out of pots and pans.

“Alfred wouldn’t be happy about that,”

“Maybe you should ask ‘Alfred’ to teach you,” Danny comments, he wasn’t a tutor. That’s Jazz’s job. Sure, he’d like to be helpful but his journey in the kitchen involved resurrected coleslaw and radioactive dairy products. An experience few could relate to.

“I taught myself with YouTube tutorials, cookbooks, and spite; I’m sure you’d learn better with someone with someone there to give you feedback on what you’re doing.”

“Tch,” Damian glowered, shooting daggers down at his food.

“I’m serious!” He emphasizes, “Trying to wing it straight off the bat just isn’t a good idea,” He knew from experience. Food poisoning isn’t fun. Neither were the blisters you’d get from boiling oil.

“I’m sure many people ‘wing it’ in the kitchen,” Damian insists. “What if I’m a naturally born chef?”

”Didn’t you say you’re barred from the kitchen?” Damian’s cheeks turn a flustered red.

”I said most of my family is barred from the kitchen!” Damian defends like Danny’s ‘accusation’ is a slight against his character.

”Are you included in that ban?”

”…yes” The other boy whispers begrudgingly. He tries, he really does, but there’s no stopping the quiet giggle that erupts from his chest. Damian glares daggers at him cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

”I swear I’m not laughing at you,” He wheezes. It’s a lie and both of them know it.

”Go ahead and laugh, I’m not the one who fried myself,” Damian huffs.

Danny made jokes about his accident all the time. Much to everyone else's dismay his lab accident was his go-to event to joke about. No matter how many times he got scolded for “Making people uncomfortable” he kept it up. This wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment but there’s something about the way he said it. Something about the way he emphasized his words made Danny lose all composure. Collapsing into his folded arms, shoulder shaking with silent laughter.

”Hey…” The other boy’s voice is weaved with concern a guilty lift to his voice. Gently, he pokes Danny’s arm. Any worry drained from his features when Danny lifted his head to look at him.

”I thought I'd upset you!” Damian half shouts.

”Nah, I’ve got thicker skin than that,” He reassures.

”You're the first, Others tell me I come off rather… cold,”

“Really?” That’s a surprise. Danny couldn’t see it, then again he hasn’t known Damian for very long. After all that’s happened, he’d like to think he’s a better judge of character. The other boy didn’t give off Penelope spectra vibes. Nor did he act like a miniature Vlad. If anything, he reminded him of Sam.

“You’re a liar if you think I’m friendly,” He snaps scowling at Danny as if he’d just spat in his lunch or something.

”I’m not a liar, I just have a different definition of friendly than you do,”

“Does your definition of friendly happen to be rich?”

“Fuck no!” He snaps without thinking. Raising an eyebrow Damian stares at him green eyes scrutinizing his expression like there’s deeper meaning in his words. “Eat the rich,” He clarifies, as if that’s supposed to explain anything.

“Friendliness is compassion, a willingness to help, not sugar-sweet conversations with extroverted compassion,” It’s easy to put on a sweet voice while you screw someone over. Even easier to insult someone with a snidely worded ‘compliment’.

“You helped me without hesitation when you could have left me to fend for myself,”

“The situation was ridiculous, I had to help.” Damian defends

“ You didn’t have to,” he points out.

“Listen, I’m not trying to challenge your view of yourself; I’m just saying you’ve been nice to me so far,”

Damian relaxes, staring down at his lunch. “I pity you,”

“Pity me enough to give me a bite?” Danny asks, batting his eyes obnoxiously.

“Absolutely not,”

“Fuck.”

[partycatty]

I have this idea:

Johnny Cage x tomboy (can be gender neutral reader), I see the reader as a introvert, gamer, a bit of a nerd that prefers to wear comfy pants than elegant, tight dresses/skirts. Johnny likes to talk to them cause they can play games together (I believe that johnny being a bit of a gamer is a fact stated in mk1, when we have a Cage's Mansion tutorial?) and so he decided to invite reader to a red carpet event created because of the launch of his new movie. It's first time in their life to attend such thing and they really don't know what to do... (the rest is up to you, they can either fuck before the event while reader is trying to pick a good outfit or just go there and have fun or whatever<3)

johnny cage > zip me up

johnny's not used to seeing his best friend in anything but a hoodie and sweats. what happens when they have to dress outside of their comfort zone?

warnings: nsfw... :3, exhibitionism?, hardcore praising LOL, awkward reader (no rizz ...), reader is written as curvy? LONG POST LOL

notes: i physically cant write dom johnny without it sounding super ooc LOL ALSO!! im so sorry if the formatting is iffy, ive been forced to use desktop and the formatting is completely different than my usual mobile writing

masterlist

honestly, it's hard to gauge what games he'd actually play, so a part of me believes he mainly plays... mortal kombat. and yes, since he is canonically responsible for the franchise existing, he would main himself. or maybe he'd play fortnite, lord knows he'd have his own skin.

"come on, man! you can't keep picking general shao! you can just say you hate me," johnny groans, staring at the character select screen. his favorite thing was to drop tidbits about the characters and compare them to the real life counterparts. "i'm still mentally recovering from witnessing his ugly mug."

you chuckle and lean back in your chair, pulling your headset mic closer to your lips. "would you rather i picked one of your buddies? kenshi, or as you called him, sexy face two?"

"and now you're asking me to beat up my best friend," johnny sighs dramatically. you giggle, and it makes his heart flutter and cheeks redden. thankfully, today was a day your webcams were turned off so you were none the wiser. you make a comment that he's the one that wanted to play a game that features his real friends and actual enemies which earns yet another groan from him.

"if you're gonna be annoying, we could switch to something else?" you offer teasingly. "not my fault you choose to stare at yourself every game instead of learning combos."

"oh hush, you love me," johnny replies, earning a little peep from you out of surprise. he loved to push your buttons and flirt with you. it was in his personality, sure, but because of it you did have a massive crush on him. it was innocent and purehearted, but you just couldn't see yourself risking your great friendship over some silly feelings. "you love it when i'm difficult, don't lie to yourself."

"...shut up," you pathetically try to retort, sinking into your seat and fighting the flush on your face. "are we gonna run another round or what?"

"actually, i had something to ask of you," johnny says, tone suddenly serious and almost unreadable. you feel a pit in your stomach at his tone, wondering if maybe you're in trouble. your mind spirals as you nervously fidget in anticipation. "well, two things actually. could you turn your camera on so i can properly ask you?"

you shakily turn your camera on in discord, anxiously glancing between your monitors and camera lens. johnny smiles to himself, leaning forward get a closer look at you as if you were sitting across the table from him.

"good girl, there we go," he says encouragingly, making your thighs clench as you use your sleeves to hide your face. "no, come on, don't hide. here, let me-" he clicks on his own camera button and his webcam blinks to life. he smiles directly into the camera, and for a moment you're winded at the reminder that you're best friends with a celebrity. "-there. now it doesn't feel like i'm talking to my computer."

"well, you are-" you speak up, ready to go on one of your famous tech tangents. johnny holds up a single finger, shushing you instantly. as much as he'd love to hear your voice for hours on end, he wanted to squeeze out what he was going to say first.

"-hold your tongue, my dearest nerd," johnny quips with a wink. "my favor first." you tense up before he speaks up again. "i've got a movie coming out. finally, right? point is, cris is an absolute no-go, and my assistant couldn't find a damsel to hang off my arm in time for the red carpet. so, next best thing, i was wondering if... you'd be my plus one."

"i-i don't dress up, johnny," you protest, looking away. "all those cameras, all the shouting... not for me."

"it's not all bad," he insists with a smirk. "you'll have me. all you have to do is stay close to me and smile."

you stammer, trying to spill out more excuses for him to give in and stop asking.

"i don't have a dress-"

"i'll buy you twenty."

"nobody knows who i am-"

"eyes'll be on me."

"what if someone laughs at me?"

"doll, have you seen some of these hollywood clowns? you'll look just fine."

you tug at your hair, exasperated. he came prepared with every response, had every reason to bring you to the carpet. you wanted to say no, but truth be told, you missed johnny dearly. you don't get to see him in person often, given your medium distance and his constant work. a meek "fine" escapes your lips and johnny cheers to himself, his excitement painted all over his face. it made you warm how well he was at showing his appreciation at times.

"i knew i could count on you, sweetheart. this means the world to me. i'm getting you tomorrow at three, okay? we're gonna get you a nice dress, i'll get a matching suit tailored... oh, it'll be like prom all over again!" he's gesturing wildly as he hypes himself up over the plan.

"i never went to prom, johnny," you chuckle to yourself, eyes on your keyboard. "i wouldn't know the experience."

"well that's ridiculous," johnny looks surprised at this fact, for a reason you can't pinpoint. "i would have asked you if we knew each other then."

"i'm sure," you agree shyly, turning away to try and hide your blush. "i'll see you tomorrow, johnny."

"see you tomorrow, doll," he smiles at the camera again, and you catch a glimpse of it as you weakly return the expression. then, johnny leaves the call, leaving you huffing and blushing. he just asked you to be his plus one on the red carpet, for his movie, for his fans... all eyes will be on you. the thought terrifies you, but maybe you could push through for your friend. you were a software developer, mostly confined to your dimly lit bedroom. this was a whole new realm!

you roll around on your bed and kick your feet, wondering why you're always so awkward around him. if you fumble at all in public, your world might just fall apart. sleep doesn't come easy for you, but it eventually overpowers your anxiety.

sunlight creeps through your windows. despite your usual tendency to sleep in, your nerves shot you awake slightly earlier than that, and you tried your best to negate your shakiness through games and squeezing in any work projects you could make up - before a firm knock was at your apartment door.

you fly to the door and swing it open, excited to see the only man that gets your heart pumping. he's matching your energy with a cheesy grin, immediately charging at you to embrace you in a bear hug. his cologne makes you tingle as you breathe in his shirt fabric. when he pulls back, he chuckles to admire your attire. you're wearing your usual sweatpants, hoodie, and slippers.

"you clean up nice," he compliments you sarcastically. "it's nice to finally see you, honey." you shrug with a shy smile at his endless pet names. "let's get you into something more flattering, yeah?"

he encourages you to his car, it's one of his nice sports cars with his name printed across the seats. you always felt out of place in his luxurious lifestyle. however, even through the two hour car ride back to malibu, you found yourself familiar and comfortable alongside johnny.

"you didn't have to drive four hours just to see me," you insist quietly, voice muffled against the window as you admire the waters. "it's a lot of trouble for one night."

johnny seems to genuinely seem taken aback by your deprecating comment. he leans over and slides one hand on your knee, patting it gently.

"you know i'd do anything for you," he speaks in that dangerously low tone, stealing quick glances as he desperately tries to focus on the road. "i want you with me."

even after his comforting pat, his hand lingers for a moment, sliding up your thigh with feather touches. you cover your lips with your finger to muffle any whimpers that threatened to escape. you always hated how touchy he was, and by hated, you mean it turned you on embarrassingly easily. as the road straightens out, you realize he's staring directly at you with suspiciously blown out pupils, but snaps back into reality as quickly as you noticed. he clears his throat and removes his hand, settling them both back on the steering wheel.

perhaps he just missed me and wants to be closer, you thought. he's always clingy, he probably just... you're having a hard time justifying his needy glances. they looked off. it's been a stupidly long time since someone eyed you down like that.

after what felt like a thousand years, the city comes into view and johnny parks at a luxury outfit boutique. it's small, but the window mannequins alone make you swallow nervously.

it takes quite some time to decide on a dress, because you internally decide that every possible option is unflattering. each time johnny pulls a dress from the selection, you cringe and shake your head. the sleeves were either too long or too short, the skirt was too flowy or too loose, or the color wasn't quite right.

"how about i pick one for you?" johnny offers, a little exhausted at how difficult you were being. "you just go sit in the dressing room, i'll slide you a couple dresses and don't think too hard about this. you'll look great in anything, my dear."

you agreed with his idea. maybe it'd be best for the celebrity that's known to dress nice to put you in something that'll definitely turn heads and keep you confident. it was unfamiliar territory for you, after all, since the last flattering thing you wore was a one-piece swimsuit on a beach trip with your family.

after some time of fidgeting in the dressing room, johnny slides the curtain aside and greets you with a smile, his veiny arm holding about a dozen dresses. he's got his iconic shit-eating grin as it seems he has something devious in mind for you.

"don't look so afraid," johnny shrugs, nudging you playfully. "i'll treat you right, pinky promise." he holds up the first dress, a flowy one with off-the-shoulder sheer sleeves. it looks like something out of a fairytale, and you're reluctant to deny his suggestion when he's cheesing so damn hard. you smile back and shove him back behind the curtain, giving yourself space to change.

you slide into the dress, catching it on your hips momentarily but pulling it past without tearing it thankfully. when you pull it up to your chest, it takes quite a bit of tugging, seeing as the fabric isn't as stretchy compared to what you're used to. when you fall silent as you try to pull the dress up, johnny assumes you're ready and slides the curtain aside, stepping in eagerly.

"how's it-" he cuts himself off when he gets a good look at you. you're flushed from trying to squeeze into the fabric, and your breasts (that he didn't even know you had) were spilling out of the front. his lips get sucked inward as you witness the gears come to a screeching halt in his head. his eyes may have been hidden from his sunglasses, but you know for a fact he's checking you out. "i like that one." his voice is too monotonous for him to truly be emotionless. it's like it's taking every ounce of his being to be normal.

"i don't," you mumble, continuing your fruitless attempts much to johnny's delight as your boobs ripple with each pull. "i can't get the stupid zipper up in the back, either."

eager hands shoot out to you as johnny takes quick strides to stand behind you. your front is facing the mirror, your hands resting atop your breasts and eyes focused on the man behind you. when his head tilts town to get a good look at the zipper, you notice his eyes are far darker than the typical warm brown.

his hands fumble tremendously as he tries to keep his shit together. he uses one hand to keep the parts together and the other to get the zipper sliding.

the sudden jerk catches you off guard and you're far from balanced. thankfully, your palms press against the mirror to keep yourself upright, and johnny lurches forward as his grip is pulled with you. his hands fly to your waist to ensure he doesn't topple you over.

you would have gotten up like nothing happened, and maybe apologized, but during the scuffle you felt something hard and warm through your skirt. johnny's nose is tucked in the nape of your neck when you fully realize your predicament.

as you sputter out his name to call him out, you feel his lips smile against your back. his hands loosen momentarily, but don't pull away.

"uh, sorry, doll," he mumbles into your skin, not sounding all too apologetic. "pretty girls in dresses just... gets me goin'."

"i'm not pretty," you mutter, averting your gaze. johnny lifts his head and looks at your reflection incredulously.

"you're joking, right?" johnny replies, brows furrowed. "babe, look at yourself." he grabs your jaw from behind and angles your vision on your body. "i didn't know you were carrying all this. i almost want t'take you out and get you a whole new wardrobe just to get you out of those garbage bags you're always in. pardon my french doll, but you're fuckin' hot." as he speaks, his hand snakes down your throat, your shoulder, and then settling firmly on your hip, not even hiding the brief sweep he made against the flesh of your chest.

you're left staring in awe. he was always charming around you, but never outright flirting. you glance toward the curtain; what if someone heard all this? you swallow thickly, moving back to look at johnny apprehensively. he's biting his lower lip, suddenly thrusting more against your body, letting a shaky breath as his face is now buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to hold it together.

"you got me all riled up seeing you in that, you know," he warns you in a husky voice that dampens your panties. "so you can't say you aren't pretty. feel what you did to me." the air feels intensely different than it was when you guys were just friends. he's confessing something he'd implied to feel for quite some time, but you never envisioned the day it'd come to fruition. you can't really say you were complaining when he pulls your hips toward him, letting him use your ass to grind down on ever so slightly. your stillness throws him off for a moment, and he looks up at you through the mirror with concerned eyes. "you don't seem into this. i can stop."

"n-no!" you yelp out, sounding a little more desperate that you'd like to admit. "this is okay."

"just okay?"

"well, no, but - i'm sorry, i don't know what to say."

"do you want me to stop?"

"...no."

"good girl."

he presses a little harder against you, keeping you upright and stopping your knees from buckling with his rough hands. abruptly filled with a primal hunger, johnny tugs the long flowing skirt up in bunches, gripping it tightly to get a glorious view of your ass. this interaction was not prepared for, so you couldn't help but feel flustered when your boyshort panties are fully on display. johnny just chuckles to himself as he grabs a shameless handful of one of your asscheeks anyway, squeezing hard enough to leave red prints behind. you bite down on your lips to stop any noise from coming out, but a moan of surprise slips through.

johnny wraps one arm around your midsection for stability, and the other flies up to your lips to hold his palm over your mouth.

"if you want this, you're gonna stay quiet, is that clear?" he growls into your ear, head tilted toward you but eyes fixated on your reflection's eyes. all you can do is nod. "i'll show you how fuckin' pretty you are."

he slides your panties down with ease, expelling a shaky groan when he watches a trail of your wetness follow the fabric. his cock is swiftly freed from his dress pants and he slides his throbbing tip against your folds, creating a sopping sound to the trained ear. if the store was quiet enough, the entire building would know how soaked you were for your best friend. all you can do is whimper and gasp as your noises are muffled by his hand. johnny leans forward and gently shushes you, lips brushing against your ear.

"you can do it, princess," he assures you in that husky voice before holding intense eye contact in the mirror. "you look so good like this, don't you think?"

your pupils were blown out and your cheeks were stained a deep red as you're bent over for the actor. you didn't feel pretty, still. you felt... needy.

you pressed back against his cock, and it slips between your folds before catching on your aching hole, making you twitch. the sloppy friction makes johnny moan against your skin as he hungrily matches your movements. he slides his hand down and toys with your clit, wetting the area with your own juices which seems to be plentiful. he sticks two fingers inside, not bothering to ease you into the process at all. he needs you now, and if "now" is in a clothing store, then so be it. your pussy burns from the sudden stretching, but you take it because it makes him happy to see how eager you are for him.

"i should've put you in a dress sooner," he mutters, hazy eyes staring right through you as he relishes in the way your walls embrace his fingers. "you look beautiful, my dear. angelic. i wanna ruin you so bad, baby, but i can't. not here." his words already bring you closer, but as you feel the tension building inside he leaves you empty and sopping... but not for long.

his tip slides in with ease, and he has to bite down on your bare shoulder to stop himself from losing it entirely. it's the first time in a long time a pussy has been too good for him. he's stuck his dick anywhere and everywhere, but you take the cake. his bite deepens when he slowly but surely bottoms out, his own knees buckling at your gorgeous insides.

"mmf, so fucking good," he groans into your flesh, eyes clenching shut. "my pretty girl. all mine, yeah?" you nod lazily, too entranced in the fact that his cock is buried inside of you. you'd had sex before, but it had been quite some time. years. and his dick just felt impossibly big.

"i could stay like this forever," he mumbles, almost forgetting to thrust. you remind him quickly when you shake your ass needily. "ah, but i shouldn't. you deserve to feel good."

he pulls out slowly, admiring the thin coat of juice painting his shaft before thrusting back in. he's careful to move just enough to hit deep, but not enough to make the slapping sound too obvious.

"there you go," johnny encourages you as he starts to slowly pump into you. "you take me so well, so pretty with my dick buried in you."

you almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming. just yesterday, he was your duo in your favorite game. and now, he was fucking into you in public. the thought makes you dizzy and you have a hard time keeping your head upright, that is, until johnny pulls your face up to the mirror again, still muffling you with his palm. you want to say you're the one enjoying it most, but that might be johnny. his once cocky demeanor is now down the drain as he fights for his life to not cum with every second of friction. you were just so good, he's already pussydrunk. he seems to be living in his own heaven when he lazily peppers kisses and licks all around your back, neck, and shoulders, breathy whimpers and moans warming your skin up nicely.

his thrusts grow increasingly sloppy as he completely loses himself against you. his eyes are swapping between you and him in the mirror as he admires your wetness dripping down your thighs and splattering against his own front. he would be mad you were ruining his nice clothes, but he's just going to buy another suit with you anyway.

"you wanna cum on me, doll?" he huffs into your ear, letting go of his fear of the slapping noise and now progressively slamming into you harder and harder. "let me feel it, baby, i'm real close."

johnny's arms readjust, one snaking under your armpit and over your shoulder, and the other rhythmically swirling circles against your clit. what once was hungry groans is now turning into needy whimpers from the both of you as you cum simultaneously. your lower half feels warm as he cums deep inside of you, watching it drip and splatter out with every finishing thrust. your vision becomes tunneled as you see stars, head thrown back as each throb from the orgasm makes you forget you're in public entirely.

he holds you both there for a moment, breathing in your damp skin. you both feel dazed, but incredibly satisfied. johnny kisses your cheek from behind, dancing his way to the corner of your mouth and then captures your lips in a messy, brief kiss.

"you know i didn't need a dress to want you that bad, right?" johnny asks against your lips, his fingers brushing against your bare thighs. "i really do think you're beautiful. always have."

you nod, taking in a quick inhale of breath to gather yourself. "i wasn't sure before."

"well, i hope you are now," johnny chuckles, and kisses you again. "at least, i hope so - hey, hey -" the embrace stops as he steps back and notices his semen dripping down your leg. "don't get that on the carpet. and definitely don't get that on the dress. we're buying that one for the red carpet-" he checks his watch. "-that we're late to. shit."

he doesn't really regret it.

[snowdropluck204]

Their SO Comforts Them - BNHA

PART 1

Katsuki Bakugou:

I think that, even in a relationship, Katsuki would really struggle to open up about his problems, especially to you. He wants to be your hero and therefore, he can't have any weaknesses. But you want to be the person he can rely on and he doesn't quite get that yet…

~ Katsuki stormed into his dorm room, slamming the door behind him which caused him to flinch, reaching up to his neck to yank at the tie he was forced to wear. ~ Family dinners were the worst. He and his mom would fight, his dad would try to get involved only to get screamed at to butt out. Everything would just wind up loud. ~ Especially when quirks got mixed in. ~ When he got mad, he would use his quirk instinctively, then it would get worse when his dad joined in and his mom's shouting. ~ Altogether, things would be loud. His ears would be ringing from the decibels of his and his father's explosions and every noise after that seemed amplified. ~ The train ride back to UA was dreadful, the speaker overhead calling stops, the bustle of the station and the constant clacking of the wheels on the rails. He just wanted some quiet. ~ Which is probably why he got upset when you knocked at his door, flinging it open and barking, "What!" ~ You're used to this, I mean it's Katsuki, but something seemed off. "What happened?" You asked, he shrugged and went back to getting changed into something more comfortable, throwing his clothes aggressively into the hamper. ~ Letting out a quiet giggle, you sat by him on his bed and took his hand, "That bad huh?" ~ Katsuki appreciated your company, but he didn't want to complain at you, instead he pulled you down as he lay on his side, his arms wrapped around you from the back, his face in your neck and your hand reaching back to run your fingers through his hair. ~ And that was how you stayed for the rest of the night, but as you were drifting off, you could've sworn you heard a whisper. ~ "Thank you."

Izuku Midoriya:

I think that even though he's a bit of a crybaby for the first year he's in UA, he grows past that as he gets more serious about his upcoming career, but the one time he would need comforting, is when you get severely hurt.

~ Izuku ran to the infirmary, 'The one time, the one time you weren't there to look out for them and they get this badly hurt.' He thought to himself. ~ Now he knows you can take care of yourself, against almost anything. But today you guys were in different sections of the USJ, taking on the parts you hadn't done before, you had chosen the landslide zone. ~ You were paired with Iida, who had tried his hardest to get you out from under the debris before it crashed but he just wasn't fast enough. ~ When Izuku found out, he had hardly heard what was said, he knew you had been in an accident in training and you were in the infirmary, but now he wished he had stayed to find out how bad it was. ~ Crashing through the door of the infirmary, sweating and out of breath, he saw you lying in bed, tired but conscious with a few bruises and scratches. Nothing too bad. ~ Seeing that you were okay, he collapsed to his knees by your bed. ~ "Zuku?!" You cried, worried about him, obviously. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to lie next to you in the infirmary bed. ~ He lay against you, trying his hardest to keep most of his weight off of your injuries, but he had his head on your chest as you stroke his hair, the comfort of your heart beating and your soothing voice telling him that everything was alright was helping him massively. ~ He hadn't noticed that he had begun to cry. ~ "Izuku! Don't cry," You fretted, "Look at me, I'm fine, see?" You kept fussing over him, leaving him to chuckle at your concern. ~ "I'm supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around."

Shoto Todoroki:

Obviously Shoto has a lot of problems at home and because of them he wasn't allowed any kind of familial affection in case it 'messed up his training'… Freakin' Endeavour… But I think that because of that, Shoto would be hugely touch starved but so unused to affection, he doesn't know what to do when it's bestowed upon him by you, wonderful person!

~ Shoto didn't know what he was doing here, I mean, you had only started dating recently, but he felt like he needed to see you. ~ His father had pushed it too far today, his entire torso ached, he was covered with bruises that he was lucky his clothes covered, except for the busted lip he acquired when he tried to argue back. ~ That's what led to him to being stood outside your house, his fist lifted to knock, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. ~ 'What if they get mad at me for coming all this way for no reason? What if they're not home? What if-' ~ His thoughts were cut off when he heard his name called from behind him, he turned to see you walking towards the door with a bag of groceries. ~ You had a big smile on your face, but it instantly faded when you saw your boyfriend's lip. ~ Shoto saw you'd noticed, but ducked his head down. ~ "Shoto, what happened?" You panicked, opening the front door and pulling him by the hand, leading him into the kitchen. You left the groceries on a table and sat your boyfriend down. ~ You began to bustle around, looking for the first aid kit your parents kept and some ice. In the meantime, Shoto occupied himself, playing with his fingers, his thoughts once again racing. ~ 'They're going to hate me. I've caused them trouble. They're going to break up with me.' ~ As his thoughts got worse, he hadn't noticed the tears filling his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. ~ But you did. ~ You lifted his cheek, a soft smile on your face as you wiped his tears away, being careful not to hurt him. ~ He wasn't used to this, he hadn't felt anyone touch him so gently since his mother was still at home. That thought made the tears keep falling. ~ Realising he seemed to have opened a floodgate, you took his hands and wrapped them around you, holding him close as he muffled his cries in your shoulder. ~ It took him a while to calm down and for the most part he was silent, except for the same phrase he kept repeating. ~ "Thank you… for staying."

Eijiro Kirishima:

Eijiro's was more difficult for me to think up, but I think I have a decent idea… Eijiro felt the lowest right before he joined UA, he felt scared and weak and didn't feel comfortable in his quirk. I feel like the biggest point he would need comfort, would be when he is feeling this way again.

~ Eijiro was so happy, he had spent the Saturday out on a date with you, the two of you had gone to the arcade, the mall, out for lunch and then went back to his dorm room to watch a few movies. ~ He always felt the most at ease when he's around you, but that night, after the two of you had fallen asleep during one of the movies, Eijiro felt that ease slip away. ~ He'd fallen asleep with one arm around your waist, your head on his chest, but subconsciously his arm started to tighten. His eyebrows furrowed and he grew more and more upset until he bolted upright in bed, accidentally bringing you with him. ~ Waking up a bit abruptly, you looked up at your boyfriend to see what had happened, but he was clutching fistfuls of his hair and breathing heavily, looking frantically for something until he found it. ~ You. ~ He scooped you up in his lap, crying streams that you could feel dripping onto your back as you tried to soothe him. ~ "I thought-" His words kept getting cut off by his panicked breathing, "I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to!" He kept repeating. ~ Once he had calmed down, his sobbing had lessened into hiccups, you asked him what had happened. ~ He told you he'd had a bad dream, that you were taken from him, he went to save you and he won, but when he was holding you close, relieved that you were alright- ~ "My quirk activated on it's own… I hurt you…" ~ He was so upset, but you tried to reassure him. ~ You took his hands and traced them down different parts of you, your face, your arms, your legs. Constantly whispering that you were fine. ~ "I feel safest when I'm with you." You told him, snuggling into the bed and holding your arms out for him to lean into, he did as you set up another movie. ~ "I love you so much pebble."

Denki Kaminari:

Yay! My baby! So I love Denki, so this was fairly easy to daydream about. I picture Denki getting home or back to his dorm room absolutely drained by the school day. I think he is secretly really insecure about school and his grades and that sometimes, he doesn't like being the funny guy, the guy people can laugh at and he won't say anything…

Note: I mention Denki having an Attention Disorder and learning difficulties.

~ School had always been rough for Denki, he did okay in middle school but with the added classes for the hero course, he couldn't keep up, he had some of the lowest grades in the class and he struggled to understand when he was taught by Bakugou… ~ Sighing as he made his way to his partner's dorm room, he rubbed the back of his neck thinking about the last few hours. ~ The day started out great, before he lived in the dorms he hated waking up for school every day, like, yeah he could see you but there was something missing. That thing was seeing you with bedhead and wearing his shirt as pyjamas. Yeah that was definitely it. ~ After breakfast, they got to homeroom, he sat at his desk and you sat on top of it, he would show you some memes he'd found in the ten minutes you'd been away getting ready. He just loved having you close, holding your hand. ~ But then classes started, maths was okay, but then English and Japanese and Hero Laws, History… It was too much that he didn't understand. ~ He knew his friends thought he was dumb and most days he could deal with that, but he was worried you did too. You seemed so smart, you took your notes, trying to make them as neat as possible, you answered questions pretty confidently in class and people went to you for help with topics they didn't get, but he didn't feel he could. ~ He didn't want you to know just how much he struggled. Not just with classes either, most days he didn't mind when his friends would call him dunce face or laugh at him when his 'yay' mode took over but today was just. Different. ~ So with a heavy heart, he plodded to your room, he knocked your secret knock and waited for a response. You invited him in, you were sat at your desk getting some homework out of the way, Denki groaned at the sight of quadratic equations, stomping over and covering them with the comic books and manga he had brought and left here. ~ "No. No more work, no more school. We can worry about that later, right now. I need you to sit and cuddle me!" He demanded, crossing his arms and looking at you with a pout as he sat on your bed. ~ Giggling at your boyfriend, you happily sat on the bed and got into what you two called Cuddling Position #4 (of twelve), you lay down on your back, supported by pillows and Denki promptly flopped down, burying his face in your chest. He had his arms draped around your waist and probably his hands trying to creep up or down, whilst you put on a show you two frequented and played with his hair. ~ "Bad day?" You asked after half an hour or so. ~ Denki sighed, "I just want to be able to do what you guys do, you make school and hero stuff look so easy, but when I'm in class I want to be here with you, but when I'm here with you I'm thinking about class… ~ "I just want to be less stupid." ~ Feeling your hands squish his cheeks, he looked you in the eye as you looked into his. "You are not stupid. We just haven't found the right way for you to understand it, we'll get there." You told him, pressing your lips to his slightly squished ones, leaving him to smile a love sick smile. ~ "Yay…"

Hitoshi Shinsou:

I think that Shinsou would distance himself from everyone around him when he is upset, no matter what he's upset about. I also think he would get really stressed about his position in UA and his training with Dadzawa.

~ Shinsou sighed as he hid away in his dorm room, he felt bad hiding from you, it killed him avoiding you for so long, he wanted to be near you, hold you, talk to you about your days. ~ Everything was getting a bit too overwhelming, he wanted to get into 1-A so badly, he was already determined to get in, but when he saw you in the Sports Festival, he knew he had to get to know you and try harder. ~ He did get to know you, now you were dating and it was the best decision he'd made since joining UA, but now all of his free time was taken up by Aizawa and his training sessions, he didn't get as many chances to hang out with you anymore and recently, he was making excuses to get out of those times too. ~ Honestly, he was struggling with the secret training sessions, he was also trying to keep up with school work and his own physical training, he was so stressed out and all he wanted was to talk to you, but he was worried. ~ He was worried his negative energy would affect you, that his whining would lead to you avoiding him or worse, a break up. ~ Hearing a knock at the door, he knew it was you, but he didn't answer. ~ "Hitoshi, I know you're there. I just wanted to check on you, I haven't heard from you in a while, I was getting worried…" ~ Wincing, Hitoshi stood from his bed, hesitating before opening the door, seeing you, wearing one of his hoodies over your uniform. 'This is hell, I can't ignore them when they look this cute!' ~ Letting out another sigh, he turned away, looking out his window to try and avoid your gaze. ~ "I didn't want to bother you, I'm just…" ~ He couldn't finish what he was trying to say, he couldn't even figure out what he was trying to say. ~ Hearing a small exhale from behind him, he didn't have the heart to turn around, this actually worked out best for you as you walked up and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him from behind. ~ Hitoshi startled slightly, placing his hands over yours, "Kitten, I-" ~ "You don't have to tell me, I know you're getting stressed out, but you don't have to hide from me, I'm here if you need me." You told him, moving to lean your chin on his shoulder. ~ It was silent for a while until you heard sniffling, "You okay?" You asked concerned. ~ Hitoshi had started crying, a soft cry, but had a large grin on his face. ~ "Yeah, I'm fine, I was just being stupid, I know I could've gone to you, I just got scared." He said quietly. ~ Giving him a squeeze, he leaned back into you and playing with your fingers, "Thank you for always being there."

[talesofesther]

all that love ever taught me

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie has loved you for a long while, he just doesn't have what it takes to tell you, and that might just be his downfall.

Requested by @stiegasaw: Could you do something with Eddie as a secret admirer?

A/N: This one is written in a bit of a different style than what I normally do, but I think it turned out okay, do let me know. Also, exclusively from Eddie's pov (a very lovesick Eddie, might I add) <3.

Masterlist

Eddie Munson despised cliches.

He hated when movies threw in that overly done love story, where against all odds, the guy gets the girl in the end. It was overused and too far away from reality, more often than not making him roll his eyes at his TV to a movie he was enjoying before all the mushy stuff started.

He couldn't stand it because they always made it look like the real world was a sea of roses, which was so so far from the truth.

Eddie hated cliches, because ultimately, he was living the biggest of them all. Except in his scenario, a happy ending was nowhere to be seen.

The tragedy started after the first time Eddie failed to graduate, Jason was giving him shit about it right on the first day back, making a show with his peers about how much of a failure Eddie was. And that's when you came crashing into his life — his personal angel, he liked to think — strutting up beside Eddie with your doc martens and a faded Bon Jovi shirt, talking all sweet about how Jason alone managed to lose the last game of basketball for the school's team. It shut the jock up and sent a cupid's arrow right through Eddie's chest; who acted like a massive weirdo and was too flustered to say anything to you. Safe to say he was kinda glad for being held back after discovering you'd be sharing his classes.

And now, six months later and a lot of wishful glances combined with leaping hearts, Eddie found himself head over heels in love with the girl who defended him once. But he couldn't be blamed, no one stands up for Eddie Munson, and when you also smile at him from the other side of the classroom and take an extra set of notes whenever he misses a class, he was bound to become every single cliche he said to hate.

_

Monday morning started out with shy rays of sun peeking over grey clouds, making the steadily falling droplets of rain shine. It was precisely the kind of morning that got Eddie wanting to turn around in his bed and continue sleeping. But he couldn't, an annoying chemistry assignment said so.

Hawkins High's parking lot was more packed than usual, leaving Eddie to park his van a little further than he'd like. He huffed in disdain when he plucked the key from the ignition, putting on his hoodie in a cheap attempt to not get soaked.

Water splashed around his sneakers as Eddie ran towards the school's doors, backpack bouncing on his back.

He stopped just short of reaching the roof, his feet coming to a halt when his gaze landed on you, who stood beside the glass doors he was trying to reach, shaking the rain from your umbrella.

Eddie felt a single drop of water running down his forehead, and then another, and one more; his hair shining as more and more raindrops clung to it. It happened most of the time, a small part of him froze whenever he was presented with the possibility of having a moment with you. Something inside him kept saying; 'what do you want with someone like her? Someone so astronomically out of your league? You'll just weird her out eventually'. Even if you were nothing but kind, always making an effort to talk with him, he still hesitated.

"Eddie, man," Gareth's voice snapped Eddie's mind back to reality, "what the hell are you doing? You're getting soaked." The boy stood on the sidewalk, under the small roof of the brick wall, frowning and shaking his head at Eddie.

"Just zoned out." Eddie waved a dismissive hand at him, walking under the roof and out of the rain. He pushed back his hoodie, shaking his head as a dog would to get rid of the raindrops.

Gareth scoffed, "yeah right, and I'm looking at the reason why," he pointedly shot a glance in your direction with a smirk, earning himself a shove in the shoulder from Eddie that only made him laugh harder.

_

There were rare times in which Eddie would consider himself lucky. Having your locker just three doors away from his, was one of those times.

Eddie took his time separating his books, gently swinging the metal door back and forth and creating a melody with the rusty hinges and the click of his rings.

Your laughter made his ears perk up. Not so subtly, he peeked from behind the locker's door. His fingers fumbled with the little notebook he had in his hands, anticipation building in his stomach.

A soft chuckle escaped you, resonating through the school's hallway and making Eddie smile. He watched as you carefully picked up the note, as your eyes crinkled with a smile of your own once you read it.

With messy handwriting — messier than normal, considering his nerves — Eddie had slipped the first anonymous note inside your locker just barely a month ago. For the sole purpose of him hearing a conversation between you and one of your friends, where you were saying how you felt a little weird in your new jacket, like everyone was looking at you. And Eddie simply couldn't let it pass, because it was a light blue leather jacket that had rendered him breathless for a moment, and he needed you to know. So he wrote;

For what's worth, I think your look is pretty metal. Which in my humble opinion, is the most beautiful there is.

It got you biting your lip to contain the smile, holding onto the small note as if it was a diamond ring.

Eddie got pretty addicted to the sight, so every once in a while, he'd pour little bits of his affection in a note and slip it into your locker.

Too late, he realized you had closed said locker and were now making your way to him.

He subconsciously straightened his posture, hastily shoving his black little notebook into his back pocket.

"Hey, Eddie." You held onto his locker door, fingers dangerously close to his own.

Eddie cleared his throat, his thumb barely grazed the skin of your hand before he pulled away. "Y/N, to what do I owe the honor?"

You chuckled and swatted at his arm. For a moment, your lips parted, and it looked like you wanted to say something else, before the words faded and you settled for; "I took some extra notes in our last class, Mr. Anderson usually gives us a few minutes to catch up before his tests, you can take them if you'd like." You extended the paper to him, with the neat handwriting Eddie was all too familiar with.

"Shit, you're an angel, sweetheart," the pet name slipped past his lips like butter, as if it was routine, as if you were his to call. His locker door shut with a loud bump of metal against metal, eyes fixed on yours to see how much damage his loose tongue had caused.

There was a reason for the way he felt so drawn to you, Eddie figured, maybe if he was bold enough, he'd test fate.

You smirked, eyelashes kissing the corner of your eyes, touch as sweet as honey and as warm as the sun when your fingers closed around the cuff of his hoodie. "Come on, don't wanna be late, he's not exactly kind in that matter," you fell into step beside Eddie, hooking your pinkie with his, "you'd know, right?"

He would know, Eddie was once ten minutes late for that class and had the door slammed in his face. That was the last thing he could think about though, with the way his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. Your skin was soft against his guitar-scarred fingertips. He loved the feeling, it numbed any and all other senses.

_

When the last bell of the day rang, sending eager students home, the rain was even worse than it was in the morning. Eddie was glad the classes were over, he'd happily stay in his room for the whole rest of the day; lights out, cigarette hanging from his lips as he mindlessly strummed his guitar with the sounds of rain hitting the roof.

Just as he walked out of the school doors, Eddie found you, your back was pressed to the brick wall as droplets of rain collected on your boots — courtesy of the ridiculously small roof from outside — you held your backpack straps with one hand and your umbrella with the other, wisps of loose hair following the same path the cold wind set. Eddie could see the goosebumps on the naked skin of your arms, he wanted to pull you close, or at least give you his hoodie.

"I thought it would get better, but I think it just got worse," Eddie chuckled, looking up at the dark clouds with a grimace.

"Oh yeah," you glanced at him and then up as well, "perfect weather to stay at home though, isn't it?"

Selfishly, Eddie thought of hot chocolate; of his comfy worn couch, and a cheesy movie on his TV. He thought of sweaters and fluffy blankets; of pouring the sweet hot drink in two mugs, and bringing one of them to you.

"Sure is," Eddie stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, averting his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips for the dream that could never be.

He didn't see your smile, or how you looked at him like he held the moon and stars at his fingertips. He did feel your shoulder bumping into his. You had moved closer, now pressed to him under the small roof.

"Are you waiting for someone?" Eddie asked, blinking down at you when tiny raindrops flew on his cheeks.

"Not really," you huffed, raising your umbrella, "I'm kind of on my own."

"What? In this?" He raised his eyebrows, jutting a thumb towards the pouring rain as if you hadn't noticed it.

You just shrugged, "I was gonna wait it out a bit."

"You're gonna wait forever." He pursed his lips, not thinking much about his next words, "let me give you a ride."

"No, Eddie, it's okay, I don't wanna bother-"

"You could never."

Eddie blamed it on the heavy rain when he clasped your hand in his, running with you to the school's parking lot and to his van. The end of his jeans got soaked as he stepped in the puddles and strands of hair started clinging to his wet cheeks and forehead, but he didn't care, you were laughing and holding tight onto his hand and it was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

A few drops of water were running down the bridge of your nose and to your chin when you threw yourself on the passenger's seat, Eddie following close behind and slamming shut the driver's door.

Eddie gripped tight the steering wheel, the last bits of laughter dying on his lips. He was a little breathless, from the running or from having you in his van, he didn't know. "Where to, angel?"

The sound of raindrops hitting the metal roof was muffled because of the closed windows, making the rain seem much more tender than it was. You let go of your backpack, letting it rest on your feet as you wiped away the raindrops stuck to your eyelashes.

You leaned closer before answering, one hand coming up to brush away strands of hair caught in Eddie's lips.

Any coherent thoughts slipped from his mind when your fingertips touched his cheek, as you slowly tamed his curls behind his ear so you could see his eyes clearly. As simple as it was, it felt intimate in a way Eddie had never been with anyone else, making his body fill with goosebumps from head to toe. The naive side of him wanted it to mean something.

Only once you pulled away, that Eddie could look at you, pupils blown wide and hoping you couldn't see the pink on his cheeks.

"I'll guide you." Was all you said.

Eddie drove out of the school's parking lot with ease, making sure to keep well under the speed limit as he followed your directions.

Somewhere along the way, the silence started to become a bit too loud. Eddie fumbled with his radio a bit, until you startled him by saying, quite animatedly, that you loved this song.

"This one?" He asked, gaze moving between you and the radio. It was a Judas Priest song, one Eddie knows all too well, but didn't expect you to like.

"Yeah, I usually blast it on my player whenever I have to clean the house, until my mom tells me to turn it down," you mumbled the last part.

Eddie chuckled, chancing another glance your way before turning up the volume just a smidge. "I like it too. I uh- I've even played it once, with my band."

You turned to him, eyes twinkling with excitement, "you have a band?"

Eddie had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep focused, knuckles turning white around the steering because oh how you drive him mad in the best possible way. "I do, yeah, we usually play at The Hideout for a few drunks who are there to watch. It's not much but, it's something already."

"Oh, this is me," you quickly pointed at your house, causing Eddie to slam the breaks abruptly.

The house was pretty, he didn't even realize he had entered one of the nicest neighborhoods in town. It was easy to be around you, to get wrapped up in the warmth of your presence; it was easy to forget why he kept you at arm's length in the first place.

You had good grades and popular friends, a nice house, parents with well-paid jobs, and a promising future. You'd no doubt be leaving for college as soon as you graduate, leaving Hawkins behind, leaving Eddie. Because that's exactly what fits in with you, something better than this town, better than him. At least that's the excuse Eddie chose to tell himself to avoid another loss.

"Eddie this is so awesome," you finally continued, "when I was younger I sometimes wanted to have a band too. You know, travel the world, play for different people."

"Yeah well, I'm about as close to doing that as you are," Eddie smirked, turning off his van and slumping back in his seat, feeling rather drunk in the way your perfume got trapped in the stuffy van.

"Bullshit, you can play. Me and instruments definitely don't see eye to eye." You picked up your backpack, hugging it to your chest and making no effort to leave, even though you were right in front of your house.

I can teach you, if you'd like. Is what Eddie wanted to say, he could feel the words pushing against his throat and forming a lump there. Or maybe; you should come see us play sometime.

He couldn't bring himself to say it.

You waited for just a second longer before thanking him and saying goodbye, as if you were asking him to do something, anything that would tell you what this dance between you two was.

Eddie watched you run from his van and to your porch, waiting until you were safely inside your home and he was left alone with just the low tune of the radio.

As he drove to his trailer, something felt missing. Every time he turned to look at the passenger's seat the hollowness in his chest deepened. He felt like a coward for losing his chance, one he would probably not have again.

The rain was falling heavily, making the radio stutter in its play. Eddie fiddled with the buttons until all he heard was static, he punched the steering wheel, almost knocking the old thing out of place, before heaving out a frustrated sigh and slumping back in his seat.

"What's wrong with you, man?" He asked himself and didn't know the answer. But he cursed his parents, for leaving him with a scarred heart. He cursed Hawkins and that damn school for putting a target on his back. He cursed you, too, for making him fall so easily. Mainly though, he cursed himself.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Read Part 2 here

Eddie’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @boooil @science--hoes @cherrypieyourface @tssf-imagines @daph-505 @astream-ofconsciousness @fentyreligion @fantasylovestoryme @justabeautiful-letdown @crazyrapunzel @yessica41 @dancing-hillary @bakugouswh0r3 @hehehehannahthings @jakebasement @zervopoulouu @forverdaydreamer-blog @fromthedt

@oeuryale @mcueveryday @witchbinchstories @call-me-magpie @loveshineslikethesky @luvmybbies @tvserie-s-world @agirlsguidetolove @hallothankmas @ribyourtoplip @sweetpeapod @forsaken-letters @hazydespair @fangirling-4-ever @electric-cabaret @ollyoxenfrees @linkpk88 @twinkofmydreams @paola-carter @masterlistmanic @xceafh @andraimeide @esoltis280

[evilminji]

I'ma be bold! Marvel Time!

Wakanda has Vibranium. An impossible mineral that does not see like it could form naturally, right? Or there would be far more in the wider universe then just the few bits we see.

You know what ELSE is impossibly rare, minerals wise?

Ectoranium. The disasteroid. And! From Wakandan oral history? The two seem to have appeared in the EXACT SAME WAY. Out of no where. Through, very possibly, the EXACT SAME rarely opening portal. If? On the other side? There was an asteroid belt of some kind?

It would only take things aligning just right, for one to slip through.

We KNOW materials from the Zone effect the living world in strange ways. Vibranium could very well just be the dead reflection of a mineral from a different, more durable, universe. The Zone is Infinite, so it would mix pretty much EVERYTHING together into a chaotic mess.

So there could be a considerable amount of Vibranium asteroids just hanging around.

But! And more importantly! Getting hit by, then LIVING OVER, a massive fuck off Zone Rock? Would expose Wakandans to generations of Ectoplasm. ESPECIALLY with how Vibranium, by nature, holds a "charge" if you will. It would be a heat lamp of Limnality. Making everyone near it?

Better.

Not superhuman. Not fully Limnal. Because Vibranium HOLDS a charge. That Ectoplasmic energy would be stuck INSIDE the metal. Unable to truely effect anyone who isn't directly touching it. Even then, BARELY seeping into them. But? It WOULD leech, slowly, into everything around it.

The air, the water, the soil.

The PLANTS. That precious, precious, SACRED Herb.

Over time? It would loosen the ties that bind. Those pesky human limitations. Sure, it would say, grow smarter. Stronger. Live longer, better lives. Knees that ache less, backs that do not bend, bones that do not succumb. You're still human! Your DNA no different.

It's just the strength of your SOUL poking through.

Would anyone notice, if it happened slowly? Over enough generations? It's normal. Everyone here is like this. It's not superhuman. Just... HEALTHY, right? A good diet and plenty of exercise? That is what makes our skin clear and eyes sharp, teeth strong and feet sure. Right?

That healthy diet of... what was it again?

Ah yes, Ectoplasmicly charged plants? Sweet fruits and healthy vegetables. Water purged of contamination by the Ectoplasm to devours all but itself? So very crisp! Is it not?

Houses made of materials charged with it. Resting in beds, beneath covers and cloth, woven with it. Walking upon streets paved with it. What in Wakanda is NOT touched by it? In some form? Some way? Gently bathing all who live there in its unseen light?

And, tell me, WHERE do you go again? When you fall? When you join your Panther God? Mmmhmm, pockets within pockets. Lairs and territories. The Zone itself may be green, but a Lair can be what ever it's Master chooses.

But! Why do I bring this up? That the Afterlives are no doubt connected? After all, it's not like the Master's of those Lair's, the Gods that are worshipped, would just... LET people leave. It defeats the purpose of creating an "Afterlife"!

But, again! Consider! The Panther God loves the Wakandan Royal Family. They are loyal worshipers. The Panther Gods responsibility. And? The rather newly dead T'Chaka, former monarch (and thus rather informed of all the major concerns of a nation) of Wakanda, has informed the Panther God that? Gasp!

The Vibranium is, at generations long last, about to run out.

Their people are in danger.

Please! Do something!

The God can not. Buuuut... the "ghost king" of the space between, can. He must go, on a Dangerous And Heroic Soul Pilgrimage(tm) to meet with this mysterious king. Negotiate for his son and people. T'Chaka, a brave and dignified king, will of course face this challenge with all that he is.

It's very Alice in Wonderland. (The poor man.)

But the Black Panther manages to get to the still under construction castle none the less. Lead by a delightful, if mischievous, young girl by the name of "Dani" (with an i). Who reminds him, somewhat painfully, of his daughter Shuri when she was younger.

The King of the Between is a... young man.

Busy putting constellations on the ceiling, he pays them little mind. Until Dani calls out to him. Revealing that exactly like Shuri, she was a princess all along. He can see the resemblance.

He explains his issue, prepared to argue his case for however long he must. Instead he is just met with long soul searching look, a glance to Dani (who appears to vouch for him), and a nod. He is baffled. It... so easily?

People need help, he is informed. That's reason enough. Besides, Dani says you're not a fruitloop. And the young king trusts her judgment.

Let's go get your people some rocks.

(You can imagine, the ABSOLUTE SHIT STORM. Mentally, Emotionally, Politically, when the GHOST of the FORMER KING just? Shows up! Broad daylight! In the royal yard in from of the palace with a GIANT piece of Vibranium and a foreign King of The Dead.

Father... WHY. Don't get T'Challa wrong, he is about to cry he's so happy to see you. But? In PUBLIC, Father? In front of his delicious Wakandan Salad? Stop being so amused you old cat! This isn't FUNNY! Now I have to deal with this! T^T )

@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe

[cupidastrology]

Pluto ♇ in Aquarius transit through the 12 Houses 🪢📿

Please do not repost or copy.

Associate this post with where Pluto ♇ is moving in Aquarius ♒︎ through your birth chart.

Notes: The house it is transiting through is important to understand in order to know how this transit will affect you directly.

=================

1st house - appearance becomes a highlight to the mind, the way you perceive yourself in mind to your environment makes a grand change. you may want to focus more on the influence you have on your socials, or simply drop it all together.

2nd house - your emotions take on a new desire involving luxury and the state of how you feel about yourself in mind. your self esteem and the way you express yourself becomes a highlight, creating may become beneficial to input details into your new lifestyle.

3rd house - your thoughts start to gather themselves, but not without having to think closely about the associations you communicate with, and the resources you gain knowledge from. reading, writing, and getting into subjects of fact or fiction overtake you.

4th house - the home makes massive changes to how you have seen it in mind; a different course of change in how you see yourself with the subject of family may haunt you. it may be important to start envisioning the life you want outside of the home.

5th house - personal achievement and woes become a big deal in this area, focusing on what creates happiness or attracts creativity into your life will be constant. you may start reading, watching, or searching for new ways of mental stimulation involving the arts.

6th house - you may experience the ups and downs of potential; health or work events, which may require you to dedicate much more time to your mental state, what you choose to intake into your body, and how you choose to be influenced in everyday life. detachment from social media is highlighted here.

7th house - love is handled not only by manifestation but also by obsession. we see a great desire to engage with another, but the close associations you create will not be easy to break. very important deals and contracts to be signed, consideration is constantly recommended.

8th house - long distance connections are broken, or become closer than ever before. a focus on how you make money starts to grow, and new steps may be required in order for you to make even more than what youre comfortable with currently. a need to make or break in life will be important, mainly when it comes to releasing.

9th house - the way you see yourself in this world is heavily important, but to get out of your comfort zone will be next level. you may discover new forms of spiritual belief, break away from what you used to truly desire in mind, and seek out new ventures that many have surrounded their own opinions by. its time to stop caring about what others believe.

10th house - you may start to focus on what happens outside of the beliefs you have been trained to understand; birthing a new self along with a strong path in your life is beneficial here. to understand and research into the evolution or growth of social media may have an impact on you, wanting to make something universal from inside yourself.

11th house - connections and travel buddies become more prominent into your life, to get involved with others in ways where you feel that you're in one space with them is highlighted here. you may start to crave new associations and events to visit in your neighborhood or living location.

12th house - the importance to holding your own is a big deal with this transit; you will seek out ways of handling your own independence. looking into between the lines of what it means to stay involved with others, with a location, or with what has held you back in life may influence you to search for your own meaning in life. detaching completely from online media, and looking into old methods of living may be a curiousity

=================

[blushweddinggowns]

Nancy had to give it to him. In around a few months time, Steve had her wrapped around his finger just as much as every other girl in school, maybe even more so. She hadn’t even meant for it to happen! She had tried to keep things in a strict tutor/student zone but then Steve had to be all…him. He had looked so devastated when he realized they had classes together, and the way he tried to make up for it was too cute for words. 

She just…never thought he would be the way he was. Before they’d met she just knew him as basically Eddie Munson’s personal bodyguard, who just happened to be too hot and good at sports to completely fall out of popularity. He was notorious for being a master at making people cry, and was surprisingly quick-witted for someone who had never gotten above a C- in English. He was a heartbreaker with a killer smile and a horrible attitude. So how did all of that end in Steve Harrington being the sweetest guy she’d ever met?

The massive crush she had on him was completely out of her control. It was his fault for being all nice and funny and handsome and…God. She sounded like the girls she and Barb used to make fun of. They used to call it the Harrington disease. Nancy just hadn't realized how contagious it really was. 

Though she stood by the fact that whatever was going on between her and Steve was different. She had heard a lot of rumors about what it was like dating Steve Harrington, and most of them involved him being all handsome and charming until he got what he wanted, then he’d dump you first thing. The others were a little weirder, stories about him being completly standoffish and maybe even a little germaphobic? There were some girls that swore that he never even kissed them during their short time together and they would have to fight for something as insiginfigant as a hug. Nancy wasn’t quite sure who to believe, no one did. Steve was kind of mysterious like that, another reason why so many girls were obsessed with him.

But with Nancy, it didn’t feel like he was using her for something else. It didn’t even feel like Steve was purposefully romancing her. They had gone from a study session once a week to actually being friends. They ate lunch together nearly everyday, she was invited over to movie nights with him and Eddie, which was great for when Barb was stuck at band practice. He even started taking her to school in the morning sometimes. And she always got to pick the music, no matter how much Eddie jokingly whined about it.

How could she not like him? Hell, she even liked how good he was to his friends, especially Eddie. The two of them were nearly inseparable and it never mattered to Steve that Eddie was…well, pretty far below him in the world of high school cliques. And it’s not that Nancy thought Steve could do better. Eddie was great! They were good for each other, especially after he told her more of how they first met as kids. It made a lot more sense on why Steve was so protective over him, and why he got so pissed when people acted like they couldn’t understand what Steve saw in him. 

It was the same way some people looked at her and Barb. And Nancy hated that. Like being twenty pounds overweight was some kind of crime. But Steve never looked at Barb with disgust. He knew what it was like to see people for who they were; he understood the value in that. And he was always so nice to her. Steve wasn’t the first guy who had wandered into Nancy's life, but he was the first one who didn’t try to box her best friend out at every oppruntunity. 

She loved that about him. She kind of loved everything about him. The past two months had been the most fun of her young life. Because Steve was fun and so much better than she had ever imagined. 

And while technically, they weren’t officially dating it still felt like something was going to happen, and happen soon. Maybe then they would get some more alone time without Eddie around. And she liked Eddie! She really did. He was hilarious, impossible to embarrass and weird as all hell, but it worked. He was a sweet guy when you got right down to it, even if he was a little on the scary side. She just…liked Steve more. A lot more. 

Everything with him just felt so…good. Like they were just falling for each other naturally. They just needed a small push to get them past the friend zone.

“Earth to Nancy? Hello?”

The sound of Barb’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She had a brow raised at her, hand on her hip as she waited for an answer to a question that Nancy had definitly not been paying attention to.

But Barb saw right through her. She always saw right through her, “You weren’t even listening were you?”

“Sorry, sorry, I was just-”

“Thinking about Steve. Yeah, I know.”

Nancy leaned against the locker with a pout, “Come on! I think he might like me. Like, like me like me.”

Barb sighed, just the slightest bit annoyed. Though in her defense Nancy had probably said that same sentence ten times in the past 4 hours, “Nancy he’s a player. And yeah he’s nice and I’ll give it you that he’s not nearly as annoying as we thought he’d be, but can’t you get with someone who isn't so…out there?”

Nancy rolled her eyes, “Yeah because so many guys are just dying to get with me. And what do you mean out there? He’s totally normal.”

“Are you actually trying to tell me that Steve Harrington is normal? The dude who has dated the entire cheerleading squad? The guy who laced Alex’s weed with acid last year for looking at Eddie wrong? That guy?”

Nancy rolled her eyes, “Oh come on! Rumors like that are almost never true. And they were never able to prove the Alex thing! And everyone knows the Carvers will say anything for attention.”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t! Come on, you know me. I would never get involved with someone who's actually dangerous. Do you really think he’d hurt me?”

Barb groaned, “You know what I mean! Not physically but yeah. Emotionally I think he can cause some damage. I’m not even saying he’d do it on purpose! But-”

“But nothing,” Nancy interrupted, “Look as sweet as it is that you’re worried about me I’ll be fine. And Steve’s a good guy. You know he’s a good guy. I mean god, you guys have hung out without me before! Doesn’t that show that he’s not just trying to use me?”

“That was one time! And it was literally just a ride home after band practice!”

“And was he or was he not the perfect gentleman?” 

Barb sighed, “Okay, fine. In the vacuum of what we’ve seen he’s fantastic. I’ll give you that. But we don’t live in a vacum! And I just think there are some…things that you purposely don’t want to see.”

Ok, now she was just grasping at straws, “Well maybe I’ll have a chance to see them this weekend. Did I tell you that he invited us to a party at his house Friday? I think he’s finally going to ask me out.”

Barb narrowed her eyes at her, “Invited us or invited you and you made him include me?”

“I mean us. He said your name thank you very much. Plus, Eddie’s going to be there too. You know I would never third wheel you like that.”

Barb narrowed her eyes at her, “Oh but you’d take me as your Eddie buffer? Are you serious?”

“What? He’s nice!” Nancy exclaimed as she started dragging Barb towards their next period. They were going to be late at this rate, but she needed to know that she was going to come. Half because…yes she needed an Eddie buffer but mostly because she just wanted her there. And on the off chance that Barb was right and this was all a terrible idea, having her there would certainly soften the blow. And she knew Eddie would make it his personal mission for her to have fun, so it was a win-win in Nancy’s book. 

“I’m not saying he’s not! But he’s kind of…intense isn’t he? Especially when it comes to Steve. They both are. It’s always Steve and Eddie. Eddie and Steve. Don’t you think…that’s kind of weird?”

Nancy rolled her eyes, aware of exactly where Barb was going with that one. Tommy Hagan had been making it his personal mission to convince the whole school that those two were gay for each other, like a little creep. No one really believed him anymore, not after Steve’s dating rap sheet started, but it still came up every now and then. 

“Well we’re always Nancy and Barb and Barb and Nancy. Is that weird?”

Barb opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, a tell-tale sign that Nancy got her, “I-okay. You win that one.”

“So you’ll go?” Nancy asked, as they sat down at their desks, barely beating the bell.

Barb smiled at her, reaching out to ruffle her hair a bit, laughing when Nancy batted her hand away, “Yes, I’ll go. But if you ditch me to make-out with Steve I’m going to be so pissed.”

Nancy grinned, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When Friday rolled around Nancy was beyond excited. It was the first time she had ever snuck out of her house and so far, it had turned out to be very worth it. She was having the time of her life, and so was Barb thank god. The alcohol had certainly helped even if it turned out that beer tasted horrible. She was actually glad that Steve had taken the firm stance to limit them at two each.

“I don’t want your first brush with alcohol to end with you puking in the pool like mine did,” He had said with a laugh when Barb asked about it, “You ladies are better than that!”

Eddie had immediately taken that as permission to call Steve a grandpa, but Nancy thought it was sweet. And it took a little bit of the pressure off. This wasn’t exactly a party in the traditional movie sense, but it was the first time Nancy had been with boys her age completely unsupervised. Plus it was better than the movie version anyway, way more calm and comfortable. They spent nearly two hours playing truth or dare in their backyard, all of it culminating in Nancy pushing both boys into the pool, then Barb pushing her.

She was the only one who managed to stay dry and then proceeded to be the judge of all of their subsequent swimming races. She was always sure that Nancy was the winner, no matter how far behind she’d been. They all had to get out eventually and Nancy was not above rubbing how much fun they were having in Barb’s face when the boys left to get towels. 

She shook out some of her wet hair right over her, giggling when Barb yelped at the cold feeling, “I told you it would be fun.”

Barb tilted her head back to look up at her with a grin, “Yeah, yeah. You win this round Wheeler.”

“And I might just win a boyfriend tonight too. But now I’m freezing. You want to come inside with me?”

Barb shook her head, “In a little bit. Feels nice out here.”

She was perched on the end of the diving board, feet dipping into the water. She looked happy, happy and relaxed and Nancy couldn’t help but preen at that a little. Who would have thought that getting her best friend out of her shell would actually pay off? 

She walked back into the house calling out, “Steve? Where’d you go?”

She smiled when he suddenly popped his head around the corner, towel in hand with Eddie in tow. He handed it over to her before looking her up and down, “God you look like you’re five minutes away from freezing to death. I probably have something you can wear? So you can stay warm while your clothes dry. It might swallow you whole but it’s something.”

“Uh, sure!” Nancy said, way too loudly. But the idea of wearing Steve’s clothes was making her feel some type of way. And his smile wasn’t helping things either. He pointed her up the stairs, taking a second before following behind. She watched as he started to dig through his drawers, noticing for the first time just how easy it was to make out the muscles of his translucent shirt.

God, this guy was going to give her a heart attack. 

He kept his back turned while she changed, which was a plus for her. Because the last thing she needed was him seeing her sniff his shirt like a creep. But it smelled just like him. And her wearing his clothes had to mean something right?  

“Okay, I’m done,” She shakily said, nerves back in full force, “Do…you want to head back downstairs?”

Say no, say no, say no.

“Actually…would you mind if we just talked for a second?”

Nancy nodded, not trusting herself to speak as she watched Steve sit on his bed, patting the spot next to him. She almost tripped in her haste to get over there, but lucky for her Steve missed it. He was too busy staring at the ground. He looked…nervous. He actually looked nervous because of Nancy.

He took a deep breath before starting, still refusing to look at her, “Nancy I…well. Okay. You know, I’ve never met a girl like you before, right? You just…seem really open-minded. And smart, but like in a real way. If that makes any sense. I like that about you.”

He was going to do it, Steve Harrington was going to ask her to be his girlfriend, officially.

“And I think I really want you in my life, but…I don’t want to lead you on.”

Huh?

Nancy furrowed her brow, confused and more than a little bit worried on where this conversation was going, “Lead me on?”

Steve nodded, “Have you ever um…heard those rumors? About Eddie and I?”

“Which rumors?”

Steve sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, and for the first time Nancy realized he was actually shaking, “About us, uh, doing stuff? Like…being gay?”

Was that what this was about? Was he afraid she thought he was gay? 

“Steve, no one believes that. You have nothing to worry about-”

“They’re true.”

Nancy could feel her heart stop in her chest. She was surprised she managed to say anything, let alone something that was coherent, “W-what?”

He still wasn’t looking at her, “It’s true. We’re gay. For um, eachother. And have been for years. Well that’s not even right. We’re like…in love. Like really, really in love. And it’s not a phase, it’s not an experiment. I just love him and he loves me.”

Nancy stared at him, mouth hanging open while a million and one thoughts raced through her head. But she couldn’t focus on any of them because he was still talking. 

“And I know that’s probably like really out there because of all of the other crap people say but I’m not some kind of Casanova. I haven’t even had sex with a girl before. All of those dates never got past first base, if that. But we needed a way to not be obvious so that’s how that happened.”

Nancy had never felt dumber in her entire life. 

“And I really like you Nancy, and I felt like you deserved to know because I want us to be friends. Like real friends and…you’re the first person I’ve ever actually told this too, because it just feels like I can trust you and…yeah. So um, yeah. That’s about it.”

He finally turned to look at her and the hopeful look on his face was too much for her to handle. She was on her feet before she even know what she was doing. But one thing was for sure, she needed to get out of here before she started fucking crying. 

“Are you okay?”

Nancy ignored the question, half because she was very close to being choked up and half because she could barely hear anything through the blood rushing through her ears. 

“It’s getting late!” She said instead as she backed her way to the door, “And I should probably go find Barb a-and I won’t tell anyone so sure! We’re good!”

“But wait, you’re clothes-”

Nancy was already out the door before he could finish his sentence. She raced downstairs, stopping when she was suddenly face to face with Eddie. Steve’s Eddie. Because they were together and she was delusional apparently. 

He narrowed her eyes at her, “Uh, are you okay?”

“I-It’s fine! I’m fine!” She reassured as she hurriedly put on her shoes. Somewhere in the back of her head she was aware that Barb was probably still out back, but she couldn’t risk going out there to get her. One more look at Steve and she’d start breaking down, and she was not going to die of embarassment on top of everything tonight, thank you very much. 

She went for the door, pausing to look back at Eddie. He looked…hurt. Which was not helping how messed up she felt inside, but it did get her mouth moving, “And I um, won’t tell anyone so you don’t have to worry. I um, yeah. Bye.”

“Wait, I can give you a ride-”

But Nancy was already on the other side of the door before he could finish. Was walking home in the middle of the night in November a good idea? No, but was she still going to do it? God, yes. 

She barely made it a block away before she was crying. But at least she was alone. She didn’t do crying infront of other people. Not even Barb. Barb who she freaking just left to deal with the awkward aftermath in her place. God, she was going to be so pissed at her. 

And then she’d have to explain the whole stupid thing to her. Except she couldn’t. Because that wasn’t the kind of thing you could tell other people was it? 

She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked, sniffling. She was happy that Steve had at least chosen a sweatshirt for her, otherwise she might actually be at risk for hypothermia here. God, she was still wearing his stupid clothes. She can’t believe she thought that meant something. None of what happened between them ever meant anything. 

The guy she was on the verge of being in love with was freaking gay. Gay and taken. Every time the three of them had been together she had been the unknowing third wheel, completely deluding herself. And Barb had warned her. She had fucking said not to get her hopes up and here she was, being a moron and leaving her to clean up the mess.

God, she was awful. She was too depressed to go through the effort of sneaking through her window. She just went through the front door instead, beyond grateful that her parents slept like the dead. The first thing she did was change, because the thought of smelling like Steve all night made her sick. She crawled into bed, praying beyond hope that she’d wake up the next day and this would all be a really bad dream.

~

Part 1 Part 1.5 Snippets from an unfished chapter of this fic

Part 3

This whole saga will have one more part that does not end sadly! Except for Barb dying but blame the duffers for that one.

@a-little-unsteddie @ghost--enthusiast @jestyzesty

@dustcommander @attic-cat-blog @dinosareawesome2137

@obsessivlyme @missarte-beltane

[littlespacereader]

Hello! Could I request some Cg! Matt Murdock headcanons please? I saw you just wrote for him and I had no clue you were a fan of Daredevil too so I’m pretty ecstatic right now lmao. Anyways THATS was all have a great day!💜💜💜

Of course I can!! After writing the Valentine’s Day fic about Caregiver Matt Murdock I literally can’t get enough of him! So here are some cute Headcannons for Matt Murdock as a Caregiver! Plus some extra Daredevil type things as well!

Caregiver Matt Murdock Headcannons (SFW)

Matt is probably one of the nicest and gentlest Caregivers out there. Being someone who is extremely sensitive to sound himself, he is never one to raise his voice in anyway to his little one and is always going out of his way to make sure their comfortable.

You met Matt by simply running into each other. You were lost trying to find a doctors office in the same building when you popped your head into the office of Nelson and Murdock. Little did you know the simply mistake would change your life forever.

Matt and you got along so easily. You became quick friends and began to share everything with each other. He shared his secret double life as Daredevil and you shared your secret of regression.

Matt is extremely compassionate and was honored you trusted him enough to not only tell him about your regression but also start regressing with him. When you eventually asked for him to be your CG, he was head over heels. Of course he accepted and here you two are today!

Matt is a judgement free zone. Whatever you want or need for your regression he is all for it! Wanna wear diapers? Totally chill with him! Wanna have a sippy cup? He already bought you two! Aren’t the biggest fan of something? He respects your boundaries and strives to make you comfortable!

His favorite thing to do with his little one is go to the park. The city is loud and sometimes overstimulating. But the parks in the city help drown out some of that background noise.

He loves to go on picnic and lay all day on a blanket in the sun cuddling his little one close. Or he love to sit and listen to his little one running around the playground giggling and playing.

Matt is religious but he NEVER pushes his beliefs or anything of that nature onto his little one. He would NEVER. Whether his little one believes the same thing as him, believes something different, or doesn’t believe anything at all, his motto is that it isn’t his business to mind or care.

Matt is not really a tv or movie type of guy. But he is a big reader! So the two of you have your evening story times together! You settle down in his lap, sippy cup in hand as he reads one of his braille books to you all while you rest your head on his shoulder.

Matt is a big cuddler. Like most heroes he comes home late in the night after a long night of fighting crime. Cuddling helps heal the horrors that he witness. You’re his rock, you settle him down enough to sleep, your heat resting upon his chest is all he need to be able to fall asleep.

When Matt comes home hurt or injured from fighting crime, his Little takes it upon themselves to try and make him better. After all they just got themselves a doctors kit from Claire! It’s got bandaids and all sorts of stuff to help their Caregiver feel better. Matt sometimes feel guilty about it, he feels as though he should be taking care of them not vice versa. But he can’t help but love his little one as they run over with their kit to make him feel better, kissing all his injuries and putting plenty of bandaids all over him.

Oh? You wanna sneak into the kitchen and grab yourself a cookie without Matt knowing? Think again! His hearing is good, too good. “And what do you think you’re doing?” “I’m getting myself a snack.” “Standing on the kitchen counter infront of the tall cabinet where the cookies happen to be stored?” “…” “That’s what I thought get down.”

He’s stern but he’s a massive pushover. He’s too sweet to really be that stern.

Now let’s talk about Matt’s family

While Matt’s birth family isn’t alive, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one. Infact he has the best family anyone could ask for! Foggy, Karen, Claire, and yes…even Frank at times. All of them love and accept Matt’s little one. Some of them even go above and beyond for them!

Foggy & Karen are in their lives the most, working with Matt will do that. They both adore Matt’s little one. When he brings them to the office they’ll completely ignore Matt and spend all their time giving them all their love and attention. Karen and Foggy will literally fight over the Little! They are his go to babysitters and they are honored.

Foggy is Uncle Foggy and you guess it, he’s the fun Uncle. He’s the type of uncle that sneaks you candy, sticks up for you against your caregiver even if your clearly guilty and breaks all your caregivers rules when they watch over you. He loves to play around and be a goof.

Karen is Aunt Karen. She’s usually a buffer for Foggy’s craziness. She’s kind and gentle. She loves to play with the little one, any game they like from dress up, to race cars, to something simple as a board game. She’s always knows their needs without them saying a word. Her kind gentle nature always put the little one at peace.

Claire and Matt’s little one became friends after they called her in a panic because Matt was badly injured. She arrived and not only took care of him, but also his little one. Being a nurse she’s seen regression so she’s no stranger to it. She’s also prepared for it, having pacifiers, fidget toys, diapers, sippy cups and more. Whatever they chose to take she’s prepared to always make sure they’re at ease. She eventually becomes one of Matt many babysitters for his little one. At first she made a big deal about it, she doesn’t mean a word of it having fallen for the adorable Little. Now their her little medical assistant.

Frank becoming Uncle Frank came as a shock to everyone, especially Matt. His little one once got roped in some bad business and The Punisher saved them. Frank called Matt and explained what happened. Matt expected to come back to his apartment and find Frank and his Little chatting, but definitely not cuddling while he read them a book, doing funny voices for all the characters. He’s never seen Frank so paternal before, so gentle. But his little one brought that father side of Frank out. They’re helping him heal through his tragic past: After that, Frank was added to the list of baby sitters Matt had in his arsenal.

At the end of the day Matt and his family of friends love and accept you for the adorable and fun Little you are!🥰

[magical-awesome-kid]

DP x DC AU.

Danny Phantom has been the King of the Infinite Realms, a halfa, and hero for thousands of years now. He, by all accounts, is considered a god or Eldrich abomination (or both), which means his power levels are par to few/none. Under his reign, his planet Earth found massive peace (religious wars were stopped simply by asking people there, pre-meditated murder went out the window when the risk of them coming back as a ghost was very real, and Fenton Technologies compounded with Ghost Zone technologies had completely changed the course of human evolution).

Danny learned how to rule and does so well. He does it so well that the afterlife basically runs itself now. Sure, disputes still happen, fights still break out, but they're small affairs compared to how things used to be. As the King of the Zone, his mere presence has healed much of the cracks and fissures that had occurred under Pariah, and, even in a place where death and life mix as well as his own DNA mixes with Ectoplasm, where one minute there's a sudden influx of the dead just as a new species is born from the mythos of old, it's quite a content place to be. With the dimension's growth, so, too, has Danny, now looking like a man in his thirties, lean and strong but comforting all the same (he can never quite die due to his halfa status, but he stopped aging normally around the time he turned thirty-three - he now can appear however old or young he feels, and, after his family passed, he reverted back to his younger man days, which he felt was when things seemed to settle around him).

But, well... Danny is bored as hell.

Now, he's been looking to stretch his legs in the land of the living again. He's been a Zone Body for nearly 2500 years now, only making trips to his own dimension when called upon for input and to sit in on galactic meetings, but, even then, he's got tons of people who can stand in for him. Danielle, appearing as a late-twenties, early-thirties woman usually going by Ellie or El these days, is considered the Princess of the Realms and leads up exploration teams on different dimensions that have either pinched off from the realms, forming fully-living or fully-dead places, and better charting the healing process and anything they need to step in personally (while considered the 'land of the dead,' the Infinite Realms is more akin to a purgatory, connecting, well, infinite dimensions where life and death exist more exclusively, acting as a bridge, a binding agent, between time and space).

Danny decides to appoint his top advisors (largely still Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, who have become ghosts and, as royal appointees, have access to all afterlifes and free pass to go and come as they please, as well as some trusted long-time allies like Clockwork and Pandora) to keep eyes on everything for him while he takes a 'short scouting mission' with Danielle (i.e. maybe take a break).

Ellie and Danny head off to the next dimension on the list, and, as soon as they hit the ground running, it's immediately clear that this one is filled with issues.

While the general rule is that they don't meddle in dimensional affairs, this dimension, right off the bat, REEKS of stale Ectoplasm. Like it's been broken off and re-attached incorrectly to the Infinite Realms, and thus the normal flow of ectoplasm has stalled. This can cause a lot of complications, especially for people who come into contact with said ectoplasm. It's also a dimension of heroes and villains, which immediately kicks Danny's protective instincts into high gear.

Ellie manages to keep them on track... until they find out about a clone who's been treated horribly by both of his 'parents' even though he's done nothing wrong.

Then... yeah. She doesn't mind staying a little longer.

So yeah, they may be meddling, but this dimension needs help! They swear!

(The Justice League doesn't know what's about to hit them when two new, absolute power houses come on scene, one instantly going out of their way to adopt Young Justice, but mostly Superboy, while the other starts spearheading global unification in the most convoluted of ways. Well, except Constantine, who takes one look at the two heroes, INSTANTLY recognizes them, and nopes the fuck out. He's heard stories of the Ghost King and Ghost Princess, and, while pillars of goodness and justice, they are also known to be absolute hellions, and he's dealt with actual hell creatures).