#Best Toys of our childhood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pirateprincessblog · 8 months ago

Text

in vino veritas

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: hongjoong loves art, wine, and pretty girls. how convenient that on the opening night of his art gallery, as he sips his red wine, his eyes land on you. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!hongjoong x fem!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hongjoong, bratty!reader, artist!hongjoong 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, oral (m receiving), toys, gagging, hint of ddlg

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: divorced parent child, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i always write the reader as inexperienced or innocent, this time i'm trying a different approach hehe hopefully it works!

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔,

𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔. 𝒏𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒓.

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈.

it is a challenge to find an outfit appropriate for the evening. you do not wish to go, not since your mother has made it clear she is going only for mr kim. your father, as his best friend since childhood, would be there, and your mother couldn't pass the opportunity to continue her game of jealousy since their separation.

"bold of you to assume that mr kim will even lay his eyes on you." you comment, passing by her room and glancing at her outfit choice. a red dress shorter than her knees with a low neckline. a classic. funnily enough, she used the very same dress to separate your father's then girlfriend from him and took him for herself. she is your mother, but you don't close your eyes at her mistakes. "besides, you're not twenty anymore. that dress doesn't look flattering at all. it's not age appropriate."

"god, just like your father. insults, insults-"

"oh, so when i kiss your ass i am like you, but when i disagree with you, i am like my father? how lovely."

"go to your room and get dressed."

"why do i have to go? you're the one who's trying to get dicked down toni-"

"go to your room!"

defeated, you groan and slam your door shut, then throw yourself on the bed. even with your head buried under your pillows, you still hear her obnoxious voice.

"and don't talk back to me! you've become very rude, and i will not have you embarrass me in front of our friends there! especially not in front of hongjoong."

you don't remember mr kim. you only know that he had a wife, that she also cheated, much like your mother, and since then he only travels and creates art wherever he goes. ever since you got the invitation, you've been trying to find out how he looks now. but all he posts on his social media is the destinations he's visiting, food and sneak peeks of his art. not even a glimpse of him in any picture. come to think of it, your mother's standards are pretty high. your father had your school friends coming over to your house just for him, you can only imagine what mr kim looks like.

deciding on a simple short sweater dress and knee high boots, you put your coat on and head into the autumn evening. your mother trails behind, having difficulties with walking in such high heels. you don't wait, still angry about her plan involving your poor father and an innocent man.

it is only seven in the evening, and something tells you that you'll be here for a very long time. at least midnight. on the bright side, you'll finally see your father. and meet the mystery man behind all the artwork you've been admiring. he doesn't post much of it, but what you've seen, it's pretty damn amazing.

"dad!" you spot him as soon as you enter the crowded space, your father with his recognizable thomas shelby outfit and a glass of whiskey in his hand. you hug him, tight as always, and subconsciously smell him. tobacco, whiskey, and vanilla. home.

"hey, kid." he returns the hug, a little less tight than yours as to not hurt you. "oh you smell great! that the new perfume i got you?"

"oh, i absolutely love it. i bathe in it every day."

"i'm so glad you like it." he gently ruffles your hair, enough to show affection but to not mess it up completely. "now, where's ursula?"

"very mature, calling your ex wife a cartoon villain. what, i put on a few pounds, so what?"

"it's not about the pounds, and you know it."

you turn your head away from your mother, hiding the laugh that is threatening to escape. but she catches the way your father winks your way, and claps her hands, causing a few heads to turn.

"a father and daughter teaming up on her mother. lovely. if you love him more than me, why don't you go live with him?"

you finally look at her, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "you threatened to hurt yourself if you saw me exit the house with a suitcase. you guilt tripped me, called yourself an awful mother and whatnot. what are you on about?"

defeated, she tries to push the glass of whiskey out of your father's hand, and when failing to do so, she groans and stomps down the gallery hall. and yet she calls you two mature sarcastically.

"i truly hope she finds someone crazy enough to handle her, just so you can finally move out and have a life of your own. is she giving you a hard time?"

"i can handle her. usual guilt tripping and nagging, nothing new. how was your trip?"

your father happily tells you all about his recent trip to spain and france, which was mr kim hongjoong's gift to him for birthday. he went on and on about all the food he tried, all the buildings and art he saw, and how fun and informed about everything mr kim was.

"he knew so much that i was ashamed to be walking with him sometimes. i didn't know the difference between baroque and rococo. hell, i didn't know what rococo even was. i'm definitely taking you to see la sagrada familia on my next week off."

"sounds great, dad."

"listen, i'm gonna go find the restroom, too much whiskey," he whispers, "you feel free to walk around and watch. if you see something you like, i'll ask hongjoong for the price and i'll get it for you."

you look at him with a scoff, but when you see that he is dead serious, you raise your eyebrows. "what? you'd buy an art piece worth thousands of pounds?"

"family discount," he winks at you once again, then disappears into the crowd.

"a drink, madam?" someone says next to you.

your eyes land on the tray with glasses of red and sparkling wine, the person holding it dressed in a simple white dress shirt and black slacks, hair slicked back and white gloves on his hands.

"no thanks, i don't drink."

he nods understandingly, then continues his journey towards the arriving guests. you were never one to buy art. well, you weren't exactly one to be really into it. you see a picture, a sculpture or something similar, you think it's neat. do you go out of your way to find out the artist, or search for more? not quite. but walking down the waxed floor under the rich chandeliers and looking at the massive paintings, you might get into it. finally, something that is not minimalism or some picasso-wannabe shit. stunning golden frames, detailed paintings, and harmony of colours on canvas. all of it put together so perfectly, as if it was brought back from the times of renaissance and not painted in an atelier just outside of town earlier this year.

"drink?"

"i said no already, thanks." you reply, not bothering to look at the person.

"just a sip? to loosen up. you look rather stiff."

you turn your head towards the voice, confused as to why the waiter is persistent. but next to you stands a well dressed man, two glasses of red wine in his hands. he wears black slacks, a tight black turtleneck, and a long black coat. his eyes are pools of honey under the yellow chandeliers, and his hair shiny streaks of gold. he looks breath taking, and you almost thank your mother for dragging you here.

he holds the wine glass for you to take, and you do so. he raises his own towards you, then takes a sip of it, not once breaking eye contact with you. you bring yours to your lips, and the alcohol barely touches them before you move it away. you were never a fan of alcoholic drinks. they tasted awful, and brought out the worst in you. you don't want to embarrass your father tonight. or yourself in front of this gorgeous looking man.

"you've spent quite some time looking at this. admiring the work or surprised at the nudity?"

you scoff, looking at the painting again. gradually going down the hall, the art becomes less art and more erotica. how disappointing. "not admiring, that's for sure."

"oh? how so?" he asks, intrigued.

"well, for starters, very unrealistic. such big breasts and such a tiny waist? has that hongjoong ever seen a woman in his life?"

he laughs along with you, taking another sip of his wine. "i heard he paints with live models, so i'm guessing that this woman really exists somewhere."

"alright, i'll let you have that one. what about this? very inaccurate." you walk over to the next painting, pointing out all the things you were dissatisfied with.

"even an art critic isn't this harsh. it's just art, at the end of the day. an artist's way of escaping and creating his own world to get lost in. nothing wrong with that, right? writers and readers have books, gamers have games, chefs have cooking and baking, and artists have art."

"well, if the artist is an old pervert and all his inspiration comes from naked women, then sure. nothing wrong with that."

after a few moments of silence, you look over at him. he stares at the painting, puzzled. you clear your throat, sensing the awkward air enveloping you both. "i would love to continue this conversation, but if i stay i will only become meaner and accidentally insult you, and i certainly wouldn't want that. i'm passionate when it comes to me being right and proving others wrong."

you give him the glass of wine back with a sour grin, and he returns a scoff of disbelief. "charming."

"wasn't trying to be."

and with that, you leave him standing with two glasses of wine again, just like he approached you. you visit the restroom too, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. all the women are gorgeous tonight, wearing classy dresses and heels, and suddenly you feel underdressed.

"oh my god, your boots are so cool!" as if she heard your overthinking, the girl behind you exclaims. "where did you get them?"

"uh, i think it was a sale at zara. very uncomfortable though, i don't recommend." you reply with a laugh.

"that's okay, they look so pretty it's worth it. anyways, love your makeup." then, she exits the restroom.

you look at your boots, plain black with a chunky heel and over the knees. nothing special about them. still, you appreciate the compliment.

it doesn't take long for you to find your father again, this time in front of a sculpture of, again, a half naked woman. how odd.

"there you are! found anything?"

"no," you reply dryly, and refrain yourself from nasty comments because of his friends.

"well, that's a shame. hongjoong, this is my daughter i've been telling you about."

your heart drops when you hear his name, and then drops a little lower when your eyes lock with the familiar brown ones you just abandoned further down the hall.

"oh, i've had the pleasure," he responds, not looking surprised like you. "an informed young woman, for sure."

so much for embarrassing yourself. if he is offended, he doesn't show it. he only extends his hand as a formal greeting, and when you offer him yours to shake, he turns it over and kisses the top of it. you are baffled, unable to do or say anything. you look over at your father, who doesn't blink an eye to the unusual situation you've found yourself in. mr kim releases your hand, but not before holding eye contact with you just a few seconds longer.

"ah, right, hongjoong is a gentleman. also, if you didn't already notice, he loves women. not like that, of course. they're just-"

"they are my biggest muse. this world's biggest and prettiest treasure."

"charming," you repeat his word from earlier.

he smirks, teasingly. you want to slap the smirk off his face. he adjusts the sleeves of his turtleneck, rolling them up to his elbows and showing off his forearms. it is only then that you notice he isn't wearing the coat anymore, and you have the freedom of shamelessly staring at his body. his forearms are big, painted with bulging veins. the turtleneck hugs his waist and chest perfectly, to the point of slightly showing the outline of his abs. he isn't bulky, but built like a greek statue. he holds himself so elegantly, not bothered what anyone has to say about his work. it's a shame, because you still have a lot to say, regardless of how hot and bothered you are for him at the moment.

"ah, let me just clarify something. in case someone thinks that i'm just an old pervert..." he discreetly glances at you, making your jaw drop slightly, "...all these women have come to me and asked to be painted or sculpted. i have never once asked a woman to undress for me, nor did i sexualize her when she did so herself. i see art, not porn material."

your father seems offended that someone could have made such an assumption. little did he know that the culprit was the young woman right next to him, hiding behind his glass of wine.

"say, hongjoong, how does that work? do i have to send you an e-mail? or just show up at your door?"

if you thought that the situation couldn't get more awkward, your mother decided to prove you wrong.

"mom!" you scold, pink spreading on your cheeks as you look at the people surrounding you.

"what? why wouldn't i want to be painted by such a handsome-"

"unfortunately, at the moment i do not take any commissions. the gallery is my priority."

and just like that, mr kim shuts her down. he spares her no glance, in respect towards your father, or simply because he is disgusted by such an idea and behaviour. he is not stupid, that you notice. he seems to know the difference when someone genuinely wants to be painted, and when someone tries to take advantage of the situation and expects something from him.

as the night goes, you notice that kim hongjoong isn't old like you called him. he is your father's age, sure, but he aged like fine wine. it takes a lot of staring and concentration to notice a few gray strands of hair cleverly hidden among the golden brown ones. you notice that he doesn't talk much. he lets the people around him talk, and only engages when they have a question about a work of his.

you also notice his hands. his fingers, specifically. you can't help but imagine his fingers dipped in clay, shaping it the way his mind intended, his focused gaze and messy hair. you wish to see him at work, at least once in your life. just to satisfy your imagination. because to make a move with a man of that age is just absurd, and disrespectful towards your father. and himself. he just said that he doesn't do it for sexual purposes, and you were almost offering him the same thing as your mother.

awful.

you glance at him one more time, and when you find him already staring at you with an intense gaze, you take it as your cue to leave. a look of hatred, curiosity or lust, you didn't know. you only knew that you felt nervous under his stare, sweat emerging on your skin and stomach turning from fear that he read your mind and caught you thinking about him inappropriately.

"it's a bit late, i'll excuse myself."

"oh, already?" your father asks, planting a kiss on your temple. "i suppose it is quite late. do you need me to walk you back home?"

"no, that's fine. you guys have fun though. oh, mr kim."

mr kim looks at you, surprised that you're addressing him after all night of avoiding his gaze. "yes?"

"wonderful works, truly. thank you for the invite." it's the least you can do after shamelessly shitting on his work in front of him.

"why, thank you. i appreciate it, especially coming from my best friend's daughter. let me walk you to the door."

and you don't get a say in it. your father practically pushes you into his best friend, who skillfully grabs your waist and restores your balance. your breathing seems to stop the few seconds he holds you, grip secure and manly on your body. when he releases you, it feels empty. you wish to be held again, manhandled, thrown around, anything by him.

"listen, i'm sorry for what i said." you say, walking towards the door and keeping up with him.

"mhm," he hums, as if it's not a big deal.

"no, really, i just..."

"it's fine." he says, holding your coat in the air for you.

"i sometimes speak before i think," you put one arm in the sleeve, "and i end up hurting someone or embarrassing myself."

"it's really fine." he says, tone calm and low. he helps your other arm in the sleeve, then, as if he knew your newfound weak spot, he places his hands on your waist and turns you towards him. only now, you are so determined to apologize to him that you don't even notice what he is doing.

"in this case, i did both. mr kim, please, accept my apology." he adjusts the collar of the coat, then buttons it up.

"i told you, it's fine." he is persistent.

you are a babbling mess, trying to correct the image of yourself he has created in his head, which couldn't possibly be good. after all, mr kim hongjoong is way too hot to have a bad opinion about you. you continue speaking, and he continues adjusting your clothes. it is not until he firmly grabs your jaw in his big warm hand that you shut your mouth. you look at him, almost startled, and gulp.

"i appreciate honest opinion. you are the only one who didn't kiss my ass tonight, and i appreciate it more than all the compliments i've gotten. so trust me when i say that it is fine. don't ever apologize for your opinions, you're not that kind of girl."

"what kind of girl do you think i am?"

he smirks, then rubs your cheek with his thumb as he brings your face closer to his. "not a good one, that's for sure."

the words shoot arrows to your core, and you suddenly feel hotter than the hottest summer day. you exhale shakily, not knowing what to do with yourself. he looks satisfied with the reaction you gave him, and decides to finally stop teasing.

"watch the road when crossing." he sends you a playful wink, then opens the door for you.

"thank you," you manage to say, and only nod his way before making your way down the street into the chilly autumn night.

the more time you spend with your father, the more you keep hearing about the artist who won't leave your mind anyway. from his stories, mr kim has been spoiling him rotten. no wonder he isn't home anymore. sitting on your father's porch on his swinging chair and taking in the last rays of sunshine before the harsh winter, you can't help but ask about the mystery man.

"how come he's your childhood best friend but i've only met him that evening?"

"well, you were young. you didn't pay any attention to things that aren't crushes, school and gossip."

"wow."

"it's true. you were just a kid, then a teen. and hongjoong wasn't around much during the day. then, he met ramona and moved with her to a different town. and then, while he was trying to save money and start a family, she was jumping on someone else on the bed that he bought with the last savings. they separated, and hongjoong started travelling just so he could be away from the town. he said everything reminds him of the night he found them. and i accompany him, which is really hard for me as you can see."

"oh, you're living a very hard life at the moment, dad. jokes aside, that sucks for him. do i know her?"

your father scrunches his eyebrows, as if he doesn't want to remember the woman. "she's still around. she was at the gallery, that whore."

it surprises you to hear him say such harsh words. he is usually semi-polite with his speech. mr kim must've really gone through something when even your father reacts like this.

"really? why would she come? did she have the invitation?"

"no, of course not. this isn't a big town, words spread faster than anything. she came with her boytoy to make fun of him, but got shat on when she saw how successful he has gotten. she just looked at me, tried to push the statue like a fucking idiot, then left angrily. i don't know what goes on in that woman's mind."

you scoff, then feel relieved that there was a bigger fool than you there. "how did he become an artist?"

"you can ask him that yourself. he doesn't bite, you know."

you take a sip of the peach tea, then set it aside quickly. still scorching. "why would you say that? i'm not scared of him or anything."

"you were running away from him yesterday. i didn't want to ask because i didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but it was a little disrespectful towards him. he was hurt."

"did he tell you that?" you raise an eyebrow.

"no...?"

"he'll live." you simply say, then grab your phone.

you type his name in the social app again, hoping to see a new post. and there it is, a brand new post, just twenty seconds ago. simple pictures from that night, the group posing in front of the museum, then in front of various photos. then, random shots of food, drinks, and finally, you.

you, staring at the photo that you loved the most in the hall, taken from the profile. it looks like something that jumped out of pinterest, and not something that he secretly snapped before approaching you. the photo is so good that you might even post it yourself.

art admiring art, the caption says. you're surely reading too much into it. he doesn't mean it about you. there's multiple people in the photos, for god's sake. but no, your delusional self loves to make an appearance, and thus the filthy thoughts of kim hongjoong resurface again. you've been trying to push it down, especially in front of your father, but one night of insomnia, a fresh image of kim hongjoong in a tight turtle neck grabbing your face, and a hand down your sleepwear, you've fallen into the void.

now, you can't escape it. you fantasize about him, day and night, stalk his accounts, even take the longer route to work just to pass by the museum in hopes of catching a glance of him. but all you've gotten is sore feet and more sexual frustration. nothing helps anymore, not a single toy that you have once neatly packed under the bed and were collecting dust up until recently. so when your father asks you to drop some things over at the atelier, you are happy to do it.

when you hear the word atelier, you expect a cozy little room in an old building with wooden furniture and with the smell of paint. but you forget that kim hongjoong is filthy rich. the address your father has given you takes you to a whole wooden cabin just outside of town, surrounded by a light forest. you gulp, realizing what situation you are in.

you are about to be alone with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life. you are about to walk into his personal space. and you have to keep your thoughts collected, just in case he is a good people reader. and you somehow feel like he is. you are wet just standing outside, holding the bag of items your father has sent him and shamelessly thinking about all possible ways he would fu-

"oh, hi. i thought i saw someone standing there. please, do come in." mr kim calls from the door, wiping his hands with a cloth. you see stains of paint all over them, and paired with his bulging veins, you realize that you aren't the strongest soldier today and that you have to run home to a certain device as soon as possible.

"good evening, sir. i actually just came to drop this off, per my father's request." you hold out the bag for him to take.

he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, still standing at the door. "you can approach, the cabin doesn't bite."

you exhale, trying to calm your heart beat. it feels like it's going to jump out and plunge straight into his face. you finally make your way towards him, trying to avoid his gaze. you don't know if he does it on purpose, but it is so intense that it feels like even your hair is sweating. he is looking you up and down as you approach, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. he takes the bag from your hand, seeing that you don't plan on speaking yet.

"and i don't bite either." he smirks, then goes back inside the cabin.

"i wish you did," you mumble, then follow after him.

the place smells like paint, just how you imagined. and it is much cozier than it looks outside. you finally get a good look at him, now that his attention is on the contents of the bag. he wears a halfway unbuttoned white dress shirt, almost see through, black slacks, and has messy hair. as if he read your thoughts, he runs his fingers through it, taming the golden strands and showing off his finely aged face.

"a drink?" he asks, hand reaching for the wine bottle that sits on the table among the brushes. "ah, right. i forgot."

he pours himself a glass instead. you bite the inside of your cheek. you hate it, you really do. but for him? no, you're not like that. not with your father's friend, god no.

"this one is actually very sweet. it doesn't have that much alcohol in it. want a sip?"

he holds his own glass for you to try. under the warm yellow lights, you see the outline of his lips on the edge of the glass. you feel ashamed that you do take the glass, and press the lips on the same outline. it takes every ounce in you not to jump into his arms and make out with him like there's no tomorrow. but you manage, only taking a sip of the dark liquid before returning the glass to him. you keep the liquid inside your mouth, afraid to let it pour down your throat. you are not ready for the stinging and bitter aftertaste. but the longer you hold it, the more you look like a squirrel with puffy cheeks and your eyes tear up.

mr kim notices, and chuckles. not mockingly, but maybe a bit fondly. he approaches you, taking your jaw into his hand again. you notice the dried paint on his fingers, and his rolled up sleeves again. his eyes look into yours, and if he wasn't holding your head up so you can look at him, you would surely turn around and leave. it is too much, yet you don't have many options at the moment. to look away, or to maintain the eye contact. he seems to be into it, and so you give it to him. you are starting to be into it too.

his thumb rubs your cheek, much like that night. his eyes roam your face, as if he is memorizing every single detail on it. he licks his lips, and his gaze softens. "swallow for me."

in the dead silence, you can almost hear your sanity shatter. you do as he tells you, with no thoughts in your brain. the liquid stings your throat, but the growing lust inside of you overshadows it. you subconsciously lick your lips, mimicking him. he smiles to himself, noticing it.

"good girl."

what you didn't expect is for him to turn around and sit on the wooden stool, rolling his sleeves further up and getting back to his painting. you stand in the middle of the room, red faced, warm and with drenched panties, shocked at his behaviour. does he do this with his models too? gets flirty, then continues his work like nothing happened? is that how he gets such erotic paintings?

"you can sit on the couch if you want, i'll be done soon. i can drive you back."

you sit on the couch, immediately sinking into it. "how did you know i didn't drive here?"

"you always walk," he simply replies, his back still turned towards you and his hands working on the canvas, "i see you every day when you pass by the museum."

oh.

"what do you say? think you can manage with me for half an hour in here? i heard you don't like me much."

your cheeks are redder than ever, lust combined with embarrassment bringing out the worst in you. "i apologized."

you hear him chuckle. "i know. no harm in a little teasing."

minutes feel like hours as you sit upside down on the comfy green couch, legs resting over the backrest and head hanging from the couch above the carpet. he doesn't pay you much attention, but all of your attention is on him. you watch as his back muscles move when he reaches for a certain paint or brush on the high shelves, as his fingers run through his hair to get it out of his face, as his hand rubs the paint into the canvas. you feel a sensation on your clit, seeing his finger rub the paint in such an erotic way that you think it's not a coincidence.

you breathe out, trying to calm yourself again. you could leave, yes. but you don't want to. you're fine. you'll live. you distract yourself with snooping around his drawers next to the couch. you find a clean set of brushes, unused paint, and packages of clay. you play with the brushes, tapping them like drumsticks, then acting out spells from harry potter, and whatnot. until you decide to dim that little spark of dignity you had left.

you glance at hongjoong again, who still sits on the stool and has made progress on the painting. you flip your skirt over, and move your panties aside. using the soft part of the brush, you glide it over your clit, and shudder at the feeling. he stops for a moment, and you hurriedly put the skirt back in place. he doesn't spare you a glance, but simply takes a sip of wine. when he returns to his work, you also return to yours.

your hand reaches for one of the pillows, and gets trapped under your teeth as your other hand continues teasing you with the soft brush. you bite into the poor pillow, tug it and arch your back, all while pleasuring yourself with kim hongjoong's brushes, on his couch, right behind his back. you go painfully slow, as to not make too much noise. you're driving yourself crazy, and you can't help but imagine what wonders he could do to you if he just turned around.

so close to reaching the release, you close your eyes, and throw your head back further, still in the upside down position. the brush works faster, the soft bristles gently but fast brushing against your swollen clit, caressing your nerves just right. so damn close, just a tad bit more, and-

"put that down."

like frost, his voice makes all the heat and lust disappear from your body. you sit still, eyes still closed, hoping that he will just disappear if you do so. that you will get yourself out of the awkward situation.

"i said..." you hear footsteps, and before you can actually listen to him, he grabs you by your jaw again, forcing you to look at him, "...put. that. down."

his eyes are stone cold, eyebrows furrowed. you gulp, feeling so small and miserable under his gaze.

"now."

your hand drops the brush on the couch, then fixes the skirt. you try to sit up straight, but hongjoong's grip on your face is strong. you stay still, waiting for the scolding to begin. you're terrified, you want to disappear. you want to drown in that bucket of paint that sits next to his stool, and never resurface again.

"what the hell do i do with you? first you hate me, then you like me, then you avoid me. now, you ride my painting brushes? how am i supposed to approach this?"

you don't try to speak. you don't trust yourself with words. you can only sound pathetic, begging for forgiveness again. so you decide to keep your mouth shut and let him be disappointed in you. he breaks eye-contact with you, only to have a sip of his wine which he brought over to the couch. he keeps it in his hand, eyes locked on you again. his thumb caresses your bottom lip, while his eyes roam the state of your body. your chest still rises and falls quickly, coming down from an orgasm denial. flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead with hair sticking to it, almost drool covered pillow with bite marks, and your arousal on his brushes and couch.

hongjoong breathes out his nose, a glint visible in his eyes.

"open up." he says, voice raspy and eyes softened.

you do as he says, opening your mouth until his thumb can comfortably sit in it. he massages your tongue, circling it and playing with it. he takes another sip of the dark liquid, then looks at you with that glint again. he removes his thumb, only to bring his head closer and pour the liquid from his mouth into yours. you swallow it without hesitation, too mesmerized and aroused by the situation. never in your life did you think that drinking from someone else's mouth was going to make you almost orgasm.

"good girl," he praises, voice barely a whisper in the silent cabin.

he downs the rest of it, then throws it on the floor aside. the glass cracking makes you twitch, but he is quick to hush you and caress your cheek.

"s-sir-" you finally speak, not even sure what you want to say.

"yes?" the man replies.

"i- i should-" you stutter, trying to come up with anything that will get you out of there, "i should go."

hongjoong raises an eyebrow, believing your words as much as you believe them. his hands fumble with the zipper of his slacks. then, he takes the pillow you had just used and gently puts it under your head.

"comfy?"

"yes...?" you say, confused.

"good."

through the opening of his pants, he pulls himself out, wasting no time in giving it a few slow strokes. your mouth waters at the sight, even if it is upside down. his hard, thick cock leaks above your head, ready to be licked clean.

"open up for me, princess."

you shudder at the nickname, and at the way he gently holds your head so that it is aligned with his cock. you open your mouth once again, slightly sticking your tongue out for him. the man presses the tip against your lips, coating them in pre-cum before pushing past them. he grunts, placing both of his hands on your cheeks to hold your head still. the warm muscle glides against your tongue, kissing the back of your neck. you can't help but imagine how it would glide inside of you, slowly, or fast, gently, or hard. you'll take anything he gives you.

"relax your throat, baby." his voice is raspy and quiet in your ears.

you do as told, trying your best to relax it. as soon as you do, hongjoong seems to lose himself a bit. he slams his hips forwards, the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat and making you gag around him. tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you don't let them. his hand then reaches over to your skirt, flipping it over and exposing your drenched panties still pulled aside.

his fingers find your entrance without teasing, and he dips his finger in so easily. your walls squelch around him, arousal flooding and coating his digits. due to the position you're in, his rough fingers rub your spongy wall exactly how you need it. you squirm under his touch, feeling overstimulated even though you haven't orgasmed yet. he adds two more fingers, stuffing you almost to the brim. you're full of him, in both holes, and a whiny and squirming mess.

he abuses your mouth, admiring the outline of his cock on your neck.

"rub your pretty clit for me, princess."

hesitantly, your fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing it in circles and guiding yourself closer to an orgasm. hongjoong's fingers are restless in your hole, pumping in and out, making you moan and whine around his cock. the vibrations must feel good for him, because he throws his head back and groans. entirely lost in the pleasure of your tight mouth against him, he can't help but slam his hips harder and faster, and his fingers start matching the rythym.

you try to beg, but all the words are muffled by his equally abused cock.

"what was that, pretty girl?" he looks down at you, pure ecstasy on his face.

"please-" you somehow manage to say it.

"please? do you know what you're begging for?"

you shake your head. you don't, truly. begging for him to speed up? to slow down? to make you orgasm? or not? you have no idea. you just beg him, to give you everything he has to offer.

the moment is shattered when your phone rings, the word dad on the screen making your stomach turn. hongjoong stops, giving you a moment to collect yourself before handing you the phone. he helps you sit up straight, putting a pillow under you so that you are comfortable. you take a deep breath, who knows which one in the row that day. hongjoong caresses your cheek, as if he wasn't deep inside you both ways just seconds ago. charming, he'd say.

"hello?" you answer the phone.

"hey, kid. did you deliver those things to hongjoong?"

"yes, dad."

"great! i was thinking about inviting him for dinner tomorrow. wanna come and help me?"

"sure thing."

"i was thinking steak, with that whiskey sauce you make..."

you are no longer paying attention, because hongjoong is on his knees in front of the couch. he gently spreads your legs, and looks at you with a mischievous look. you shake your head silently, asking him to not do anything. but all falls in water when hongjoong licks a stripe up your slit and you shake under his touch. your legs close reflexively, but the older man is quick to hold your thighs in place as he devours you on his couch. he makes out with your folds, as if he is kissing your real lips. his tongue teases the tip of your clit, spinning it in circles. he sucks it, tugs it and rubs it, all the things that have your fingers grasping his hair and pulling mercilessly.

his fingers find their way inside you again, curling up so that you get maximum pleasure. a whine escapes your lips, and hongjoong stops everything he is doing. you beg him with your eyes not to stop. you can't go home empty handed. but the man only puts his hand over your mouth, and ever so slowly, slides inside of you. you swallow him so easily, arousal leaking all over him and his couch.

"dad, i really have to-" you gasp, feeling his cock brushing against your sweet spot, "i have to go."

"oh? alright then. so, tomorrow?"

hongjoong grabs your waist, not moving his own hips, but instead slamming your body on his cock and bruising your skin with his strong grip. his hair falls over his eyes, loose strands perfectly decorating his face painted with pure pleasure.

"huh? yes, yes! tomorrow. okay, see you!"

you've never ended a call so fast, and you've never thrown your phone so far away.

"don't hold back, darling. let me hear you."

and that's when you let go. you grip his shoulders, moan into his ear, whine, squirm, whatnot. you certainly don't make it easy for him.

"for an old pervert, you sure are having the time of your life." he teases.

you try glaring at him, but you can barely keep your head up. "just fuck me, please."

"you finally know what you're begging for. only you're not asking properly."

"pretty please?"

"no, you can do better."

you think hard, defocusing from the orgasm chasing for a moment. then, it clicks.

"please, daddy."

hongjoong chuckles happily, and snaps his hips harder into you. "that's a good girl."

something about having sex with clothes on drove you crazy, especially since hongjoong was in his natural habitat and clothing. it pushes you over the edge, seeing him brush his hair back and looking at you with such lust. you're shaking harder than ever, clear liquid squirting out of you and all over him and his furniture. you're in shock, trying to reach your breath, while hongjoong still sloppily fucks his cum into you.

he grunts and hums against your lips, not yet kissing you. which you suddenly find very frustrating.

"you should shit on my art more often, eh?"

with a laugh, you try to cover yourself with the blanket. but hongjoong takes it from your hand, then uses it to wipe the liquid off your body. he tosses it aside, then reaches for his own coat to give it to you. hesitantly, you take it. as you put it on, hongjoong examines your face for any traces of regret. when he sees none, he smiles fondly at you, pressing his lips on top of your hand, just like that night.

"you're a very pretty young woman, you know that?"

"thanks," you say awkwardly.

"you wanted to kiss me, i know. but..."

you roll your eyes, acting unphased.

"...i don't think i'm ready yet."

"you just rearranged my guts, and a kiss is a problem for you?"

he laughs, but not because it's funny, but because you are right. he helps you lay down on the couch, then covers you with the spare blanket. "we'll get there, pretty. right now, i want you to take a power nap before i take you home. got it?"

"got it, sir."

"good girl."

1K notes · View notes

wandussyfantasy · 6 months ago

Text

You Suck, Let's Fuck

Request from anon: g!p reader x Wanda pairing. background: reader and pietro are best friends and have been since childhood. reader and wanda never got along but secretly have crushes on each other. wanda is jealous because reader is a player and has hooked up with all of wanda’s friends, and reader just uses those girls to distract from not being able to have wanda because they don’t want to ruin their friendship with pietro. it all comes to a head when reader saves wanda from a handsy at a house party and the tension between them is too much and they confess their feelings and have sex.

Summary: Y/n is frustrated when Wanda's friends form a pact to not sleep with her anymore.

Pairings: Wanda x NB!AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,596

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!! smut, gn!reader amab, powerbottom!wanda, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, masturbation, sex toys, public touching, fantasies, and teasing.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

“Pietro! Y/n! You're both dead!” Wanda screeches from the top of the stairs of the basement. You and Pietro look at each other and laugh. You hand him the joint that the two of you are passing back and forth. Wanda stomps her way down the stairs and neither of you move from your seats. You're on a bean bag chair and Pietro is sitting on an expensive gaming chair. The pair of you are playing a zombie game together. “You idiots think you're so fuckin funny don't you?” She points to her face with sharpie dicks drawn around it. “This isn't funny, I have to go to work unlike you bums!”

“Hey, we work,” you say defensively. Then a mischievous smirk pulls on your lips. “As a matter of fact, we're working right now,” you point to the camera that is pointed at you and Pietro, “say hi to our audience!”

Wanda’s eyes nearly pop out of her head as she sees herself on the computer screen monitoring the live stream. “Ugh! I hate you!” She runs up the stairs feeling completely humiliated. You and Pietro break out laughing. You can't help but check out her ass as she storms off.

“Woah! Hey! What are you doing?” Pietro shouts because your character in the game is being attacked by a hoard of zombies.

“Shit!” You say as you quickly get back into the game. There are crude comments on the stream being left about Wanda and some comments of how they caught you checking her out. You don't notice them as you continue playing the game with Pietro.

••••

“Wanda! Hurry up! We don't have all night!” You shout down the hall. The house you lived in with the twins had four bedrooms and two bathrooms on the main level. It was a small off campus house. There used to be a fourth roommate. She's still Wanda’s best friend but she moved out. You couldn't remember why. Wanda runs out of the bathroom in a little black dress with her hair and makeup done. She usually didn't do this much when going out and her look made you do a double take. This was not the Wanda you grew up with. And you couldn't tell if you liked it or not.

“Alright, let's go,” she says as she walks past you.

“Woah, you're going out like that? Where are you going to put your wallet or your phone? You can't leave like that,” you say as you catch up to her.

Wanda shrugs with a sultry smile, “Do you have a problem with the way I look?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you state. “I think you're setting women back a hundred years and quite frankly, I find it offensive.”

Wanda makes a “really” face and scoffs. “Ah so you're a feminist today?” She shakes her head as she opens the front door. “You're such a hey mama sometimes.”

You roll your eyes, you hate being called that. “Why did anyone ever think there needed to be a lesbian version of fuckboi?” You groan as you follow her out the door.

“Will you ladies hurry! I'm not trying to get my rating down because you two take ages to get ready!” Pietro grouches from the backseat of the Uber. He hands the driver a hundred dollar bill to avoid a rating lower than five stars. You lock the front door before you climb into the car with the twins. “You're going out like that?” Pietro asks his sister. “You never go out like that.”

“That's what I'm saying!” You throw your hands up.

“Good for you sis,” Pietro holds his fist of for Wanda to bump. She does so with a laugh. “I hope you feel comfortable and confident because you look great.”

You make noises to express your shock with your mouth open. Wanda smiles at you and puts her fingers under your chin. “Close your mouth, don't want to catch any bugs.”

You clamp your mouth shut and narrow your eyes at her. “I'm not paying for your drinks.”

Wanda shrugs and slips her hand away from you. “I never asked you to.”

“Will you two stop bickering? We're supposed to have fun tonight. So let's just have fun,” Pietro says.

“P, we have been friends since we were five years old. Wanda and I have been enemies for the same length of time. You're still not used to this? It's the dynamic,” you defend yourself. Wanda agrees with you. “See?”

Pietro shakes his head. “It's gotten old. I thought that living together the two of you would at least try to get along.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he grows upset. “But no, all you two ever want to do is fight. It's exhausting living with you.”

“Ooh, I think he's really mad,” Wanda mutters as she looks between you and her brother. Neither of you take him serious and the both of you bust out laughing

Pietro glares at the both of you. “Excuse me, Happy? Do you mind pulling over just up ahead?” The Uber driver pulls over and stalls the car. “Both of you, out,” Pietro says with a fed up tone. You look at him like he's crazy but he doesn't let it go. You and Wanda start to apologize but in doing so, you two start arguing over whose fault it is. So you both exit the car and he takes the Uber the rest of the way to the party.

“Unbelievable,” you mumble as you shake your head. “You couldn't have just not been so irritating for once?” You gesture, frustrated with her and with the situation.

“Me?” Wanda is offended by the accusation and lack of accountability. “You're the one who wouldn't shut up about my outfit. Which by the way, I don't understand why it bothers you so damn much. It's not any different from what the girls who catch your eye wear!”

“Is that what you're trying to do, Wanda?” You ask, annoyed with the implication that you are as simple minded as any guy. If only she knew how you really felt about her. But you couldn't do that to your best friend. You wouldn't.

“Gross, don't think so highly of yourself,” her face is convincingly disgusted but deep down the answer is yes. “I'm just tired of being overlooked! I'm hot dammit and tonight, I'm finally going to get laid!” Wanda starts walking in the direction of the fraternity where the party was being hosted.

You jog to catch up with her, “Wanda, you can't be serious. You’re not that type of girl.”

“What makes you so sure that I'm not? I can be any type of girl I want to be,” she fires back stubbornly. “Tonight, I'm going to be like you.”

“Fine, whatever,” you say, annoyed that she'd use your actions against you. “Just be careful. There are a lot of guys who won't think twice about taking advantage of you.”

“Oh, is that what you do to the girls that dress like this?” She retorts.

You shake your head, hurt by the accusation. “That’s low, even for you. Look, all I was trying to do was prepare you. But you don't want my help. Fine.” You walk a bit faster than her to create a distance between the two of you. Wanda feels stupid for the comment but she doesn't apologize. She just keeps the distance between the two of you as you guys walk to the party.

••••

You are talking with Natasha, Wanda’s best friend, with a flirtatious smirk. She looked like she was on a mission to get someone's attention and though you doubt it was yours, she had it. “Hey, why did you move out? We could have had so much fun together,” you say as you play with her hair.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “We had our fun and then you proceeded to treat me like I never existed to you. Yeah, no thank you.”

You pout, “Oh come on, are you still upset about that? I'm not the commiting type. You know that.” You put your hand on the wall above her head, somewhat trapping her between you and the wall. Your bicep flexes and you catch her ogling you. That gives you the upper hand and you smirk. “If I remember correctly, that's all you wanted because you were trying to get over that Maria chick.” You lean in close and whisper, “I believe I cleared your mind of her for hours that night.”

Natasha shivers at the memory and almost kisses you. But she clears her throat and steps away from you. “No one likes being treated like they're invisible. No matter what the circumstances are,” she says before she walks away.

You frown and shake your head. You look around the room and find Wanda chatting with her friend Carol. You smirk as you recall being able to convince her to join you for a sleepover more than once. You walk over to them with intentions to get Carol to walk away with you. “Hey,” you start as you approach.

“Nope,” Carol walks away from you and Wanda and you frown.

“Damn, two strikes in less than ten minutes. What's wrong with my game?” You ask yourself out loud then you take a sip from your cup.

“They made a pact against you,” Wanda says over the loud music. You make a face, thrown off by the news. “You can't keep sleeping with my friends. They're done with you and your hey mama ways.”

You groan at the term. “Will you stop calling me that?”

“Sure,” Wanda says simply. “Just stop being one,” she walks away before you can start an argument. You start to look around the party to find someone you haven't slept with that you think you have a shot with. But it was slim pickings. You sighed as you feared that it would just be you and your fleshlight tonight.

••••

As you make your way through the house, you hear some commotion. Instead of ignoring it, you search for the source. “Stop,” Wanda says as a guy pulls her onto his lap. She swats at his hands as he tries to slip them up her dress.

“Come on baby,” the guy says, “you know you want this.” He doesn't let up and puts his hands on her breasts.

You burst through the room and pull Wanda off of him. “Get away from her!”

“Woah chill,” the guy holds his hands up. “We were just having some fun.”

You raise your fist In disgust and Wanda catches you. “Y/n! Cut it out!” You turn around, astonished that even when you defend her she's annoyed with you. “He wasn't doing anything I didn't want,” she says.

You scowl, “Don't defend him! I heard you tell him to stop!”

“He was tickling me, you know how much I hate that,” she raises her voice to match your level.

“I'm just going to go,” the guy says awkwardly.

“You stay,” she points to the guy. “You go,” she points at you.

“No, I'm not leaving you with this guy,” you state stubbornly.

“Get out!” She says as she tries to push you away. “Why do you have to ruin everything for me?”

You don't know what comes over you when you pull her in and plant your lips against yours. She breaks away from your kiss and smacks you across the face. You both stare at each other in shock then she grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you in for another kiss. This one is a lot more aggressive than the previous.

“Now is the time for me to go,” the guy says as he slips out of the room, shutting the door behind him. You and Wanda are too lost in each other to care.

She starts to unbutton your shirt and you're surprised that she is being so assertive. You walk backwards until you fall onto the couch with your lips still attached to hers. She straddles your hips while kissing you. Her teeth clamp down on your bottom lip and you groan in pleasure. You put your hands on her ass and boldly give her right cheek a light smack. She yelps, “No, don't do that.”

“Okay,” you say just before kissing her again. For years you've refrained from doing this. Every time you had the urge, you redirected your attention to one of her friends. Each of them had a few traits that reminded you of Wanda. It felt like since you couldn't have the real her, you could settle for pieces that reminded you of her. Now that you have her, you don't think you could ever go back to before this.

“Do you have a condom on you?” Wanda asks as she rolls her hips on your bulging member.

“Yeah,” you say as if the answer was obvious. You pull out your wallet from your pocket and fish out the prophylactic. Wanda dips her hand between her legs and you thought she was adjusting her underwear but instead she was unzipping your fly. You jump a little when she slips her hand through your boxers and pulls your cock through the hole. You moan as you finally feel her stroke you after years of fantasizing about the day her hand would touch your cock for the first time. You almost cum right then and there.

“Let me see that,” Wanda says as she takes the package from your hand. She tears it open and delicately pulls the condom onto your hard cock.

You slip your fingers up before dress and lick your lips in anticipation to find out what kind of underwear she has on. But as you do, you graze her in a way that makes her squirm. “Stop, I said I don't like tickling,” she scolds.

“I wasn't trying to tickle you. I was trying to pull your panties down,” you state.

Wanda smirks and leans in close to whisper in your ear, “I haven't worn any all night.” Your hips jerk up in response and it makes her giggle. You pull her into another passionate kiss. Hoping to convey everything you feel towards her in the kiss without having to talk about it.

As she kisses you back, she hovers her pussy over your cock and passes the tip of your penis through her folds as she blindly aligns you with her entrance. The feeling of her warm pussy lips against your sensitive tip has your hips rolling instinctively. And you enter her. “Oh fuck! Geez you're so impatient,” Wanda snaps at you.

You chuckle as you start nibbling on her ear lobe. “I can take it slow but,” you push your cock further into her and grunt from the pleasure. “We don't have too long here. You want slow,” you lift her up by her ass to give you room to thrust into her. “Sneak into my room one of these nights. I'll show you a good time for a long time.”

Wanda moans as you thrust your thick dick into her. “Mmm, should I take that as an invitation? Or are you just,” her mouth opens in a gasp as you start to rub her cliterous. Your lips move about the sweaty skin of her exposed chest. Her taste has you feeling more intoxicated than any drop of alcohol ever has.

“It's an invitation,” you whisper against her neck. “You just have to keep quiet.”

“Oh sure you tell me to be quiet but when it comes to every other girl,” Wanda gripes, recalling past arguments of asking you to keep things quiet at night whenever you had a girl in your room. Especially when it was one of her close friends.

“They're not, mph, my best friend's sister,” you moan as Wanda's walls squeeze your dick. “Unless you want Pietro to hear,” Wanda covers your mouth with her hand making you laugh. She joins you in laughing and you stop moving, she sits on your lap with your dick inside of her while the two of you laugh. Wanda removes her hand from your mouth and gazes into your eyes for a moment. She knows that slow isn't the pace you go. She knows that this could be the only time she has your attention. She is grateful for this moment because she can believe that you love her. She can tell herself that this is more than what it is, even though she won't believe it tomorrow.

You get lost in her eyes and in the heat of the moment. You almost confess everything you've been dying to tell her for years. You can feel it on the tip of your tongue as you gaze into her hazel eyes. You don't say anything and hope that your actions speak for themselves. You pull out of her and sit her next to you on the couch. You don't have much time because you don't know what Pietro is up to and the chances of him walking into this room are too high. You do want to have a chance to take your time with her. You have to give her a reason to come to your room.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks as she watches you pull the condom off and put your erection back into your pants. “Did I do something wrong?”

You shake your head. “Since when have you cared if you’ve done something wrong?” You ask as you get on your knees in front of her. Her curious eyes follow your hands as they force her dress up, causing the tight fabric tear in order to get it over her ass. You pull her closer to you by her thighs. “You didn't do anything wrong, but I need to get you finished off so we can get out of here before we're missed.” You explain as you trail kisses along her thighs.

“Oh,” she gasps out, “Wha-wha-what about yyou?” She stutters as you begin to lick her sensitive pussy.

You smirk and lean back slightly to look up at her, “You've never worried about me before. Don't start now,” you wink at her before you return your focus to devouring her. She tangles her fingers in your hair to keep you close as your tongue enters her. You eat her out like she's the last meal you'll have on earth. If she was, you wouldn't mind one bit. Her hips gyrate as she starts to ride your face. She moans as you expertly move your tongue around, humming a song to make your tongue vibrate.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Wanda cries out as you please her in ways she didn't know possible. You're not the first person to go down on her. But you are the first person to make it enjoyable. So much so that when she reaches her climax, her whole body is shaking for a few minutes. Her pussy twitches as you lick up as much of her juices as you can. You pull away from her and smile at her with your face glistening from her arousal. She giggles as she pulls you up and licks her juices from your face. You groan from how much the action has turned you on. Then she kisses your lips.

“Now it's your turn,” she tries to pull you closer with her hand on your crotch without breaking from the kiss too much.

You smile as you pull away completely, “You'll have to thank me later.” You straighten yourself out and help her fix herself up a bit. She laughs at the red lipstick stains that she left behind on your face and chest.

“You might want to sneak into a bathroom,” she suggests with a smile.

“Good idea,” you nod at her. “I guess I'll see you at home then,” you say as you walk out of the room.

••••

You are sleeping when Wanda slips into your room. You don't sleep in pajamas and this is how she finds out. You're naked when she lifts the covers. She quickly drops the blanket. Startled by the sight at first. She shakes her head, embarrassed by her own reaction. You were inside of her a few hours ago and she slipped into the room with the intention of pleasuring your body. But it's different. She hadn't seen your body until now. Other than flashes from the years she's known you.

She takes a deep breath and lifts the blanket again. Her eyes widen at your size and she's surprised you fit inside of her. You weren't even hard yet. You twitch in your sleep and that causes something next to your leg to fall. She catches it before it hits the floor because she doesn't want you to wake up yet. She looks at it and realizes that it's a fake pussy.

She had no idea that you owned a flashlight. Your cum leaks out of it and she feels herself grow aroused by the idea of being pumped full of your cum. She gulps, surprised by herself. She has never wanted to be someone’s cum dump before but the idea of being yours has her growing hot and bothered.

She keeps the toy in her hand and climbs on the bed. She straddles your legs and starts by licking the length of your cock. It starts to come to life while you continue to sleep. She wonders what you could be dreaming about while she wraps her lips around the head of your penis. She licks and sucks on the sensitive area, trying to wake you up at this point. You thrust your hips up, pushing more of your cock into her mouth but you don't open your eyes or show any other sign of consciousness.

She had no idea that you were such a heavy sleeper. Wanda starts to bob her head up and down on your cock, getting you to stiffen up more. She couldn't believe how much this scandalous act was turning her on. She stops sucking on your cock and shoves it inside of the fleshlight.

Wanda uses the toy to jerk you off. “Fuck, Wanda,” you mutter in your sleep. She is flattered that you're dreaming about her. But she doesn't get too caught up in an idea that it might mean anything other than just sexual attraction.

Wanda giggles as she gets an idea. She crawls up to your ear as she continues to use the toy on you. “Mmm, Y/n,” she moans into your ear. Instead, you smile with your eyes closed. “You're so big. You're bigger than anyone I've ever had. Oh yeah, oh yeah,” she pants and squeaks as much as she can in order to get you to wake up. It isn't until she starts kissing your neck that you startle awake.

“Woah!” You shoot up in the bed and look down to see Wanda’s hand wrapped around the chunky base of your fleshlight. “Woah,” you repeat in a calmer tone as you look over at Wanda. She is blushing. You lay back down with your arms behind your head with your head turned to her. Watching her as she continues to pump your dick. “I'm surprised to see you here.”

Wanda shrugs as if it's suddenly not a big deal. “Eh, I owed you one. I figured that the faster I repay you, the better.”

You chuckle softly. “You do realize that I wouldn't have ever asked you to return the favor?”

“No,” Wanda answers shyly. She stops moving her hand. “Are you saying I should stop?”

You put your hand over hers and start moving the toy again as you maintain eye contact. “Now why would I ever say that?” You lean in and kiss her lips. The kiss is aggressive as you hold her hand still and start thrusting into the toy. Fucking it as hard as you want to be fucking her. “I'm surprised you went with the toy,” you say when you break the kiss.

“I wasn't sure where you kept your condoms and,” she looks over at your bedroom door nervously. “And I don't want to risk Pietro finding out just how loud I can get when the sex is good.”

You chuckle, taking her caution as a compliment. “My condoms are in the drawer by the bed. But you were smart not to look for them because, mmph, you were quite a screamer earlier.”

“Shut up,” she says as she starts to move the pocket pussy faster. She wants to make you cum so badly at this point. “Damn, do you always last this long?” She complains as her hand starts to get tired. She moves back to her position of straddling your lap so that she can use both hands.

“You say that as if it's a bad thing,” you snort as you watch her struggle.

“It is when I have work in the morning,” she complains again. “I should have known your dick would be as annoying as you are.”

“Is it my dick or is it because I'm picturing your grandma that one summer that she wore that one bathing suit-”

“Gross! You're thinking about that?” She makes a face and you laugh.

“It's an old trick, otherwise I'd cum before anyone I ever slept with.”

“Well, can you stop thinking about her and just focus on me?”

You smirk as you sit up. You lift Wanda slightly by her ass so that her chest is in your face. “May I?” You ask, pointing at her chest. She nods her head as she watches you.

You pull her oversized sleep shirt over your head. You kiss up her stomach until you reach her breasts. With your eyes closed your body can't tell the difference between the toy and a real pussy. Especially when you have Wanda's real breast in your mouth. With a couple of rigid thrusts you cum inside of the toy and groan against Wanda’s chest.

You give her breasts each a soft kiss before removing your head from under her shirt.

“Happy now?” You ask as you lay breathlessly against your mattress.

“No,” she groans uncomfortably. “Now I'm too turned on.” You shake your head and roll your eyes.

You climb out of your bed and pull the toy off of your softening dick. You go into your closet and pull out the promotional box that Adam & Eve sent you so that you could endorse their brand and their products. You pull out one of the many new vibrators. It's still in its packaging. “Here,” you say as you hand her the box. “Take this and get out. I'm tired and I don't want your brother to hear you.”

“He's here?”

“Yeah, I helped him get into his bed. So just take this and go.”

“Thanks I guess,” Wanda laughs to herself. “Geez I didn't realize your room was a sex shop.”

“The beauty of influencing. You get free shit and all you have to do is look pretty online,” you hop back into your bed.

“Thank you for this, um goodnight,” she kisses you on the lips one more time before crawling out of your bed and leaving your room.

You sigh happily as you go to sleep, excited for what this might open up for your future relationship with Wanda.

#wanda fanfic #wanda smut #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #smut #thanks anon!#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wandusssyfantasy answers

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norrisainz33 · 3 months ago

Text

footy star || cl16

☆ summary: charles loves his successful olympic footballer wife!

☆ pairing: charles leclerc x olympic!reader

☆ fc & warnings: emily fox & none

☆ requested: yes!! thank you 🫶🏻

☆ a/n: all pictures from pinterest - none of them are my own

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

charlesleclerc has posted to his story

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arthurleclerc: you’ve never sent me off like this before

arthurleclerc: also tell y/n/n i am sorry i couldn’t be there to say good luck in person

charlesleclerc: told her and she says she misses you already

ynleclerc: you spoil me 🤭

charlesleclerc: of course i do ma cherie! you’re my wife after all ❤️

user1: i am so jealous of this

user2: candle on the bed is a move

scuderiaferarri: our girl 🫶🏻

user4: i want what yall have

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari, yourbff, uswnt, arsenalfc, user1 and 435,274 others

ynleclerc: traded in my arsenal kit for my country kit! i am overjoyed to be representing my country for the second time at the olympics but this time as a leclerc 😉🇺🇸🤍

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user1: mommmmaaaaaaaa

user3: AS A LECLERC ??? IM CRYING

charlesleclerc: that’s right mrs leclerc 😘 i’m so proud of you

ynleclerc: i love you mr leclerc

user2: arsenal kit is better

carlossainz55: vamos y/n!! (i’m rooting for spain)

iamrebeccad: vamos y/n!! (i’m rooting for y/n)

ynleclerc: and that’s why rebecca is my favorite

user4: i am so obsessed with this

iamrebeccad: the most radiant footballer i’ve ever seen 🫶🏻

ynleclerc: stop it i love you

user7: a leclerc representing the usa doesn’t sit right with me

user4: monaco doesn’t have a team 😭

user5: my favorite wag 🗣️

scuderiaferrari has posted a video

user7: the way carlos and charles look at each other got me feeling some type of way

user8: omg stop carlos is going with charles to paris?! 🥹

user9: need a baddie to look at me with big puppy dog eyes like carlos does to charles tf

user10: FORZA FERRARI

user11: admin putting “soccer” in quotes is sending me

user12: husband charles is my favorite charles

user13: y/n has the two hottest drivers in the world as her biggest fans im

user19: beeee who you areeeee

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charlesleclerc: half of the season done. some ups like realizing a childhood dream in monaco and marrying my best friend in tuscany and some downs but it’s time to rest, cheer on my wife at the olympics and come back stronger than ever in the second half! thank you to everyone for the continuous support - see you soon ❤️

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user10: NEW WEDDING PICS DROPPED 🚨

user16: enjoy the break charles

maxverstappen1: let’s go y/n!! enjoy your break charles! try not to cause an inchidents in paris

charlesleclerc: i’ll do my best!! see you soon mate

scuderiaferrari: rest and recovery time 🔋

user16: no rest for yall tho !! get back to the factory and start making a better car

ynleclerc: je suis si fier de toi charles. je t'aime tellement [i am so proud of you charles. i love you so much]

charlesleclerc: je t'aime toujours et pour toujours [i love you always and forever]

user33: she’s learning her french 🥹

landonorris: tell y/n to bring me some thing back from paris

ynleclerc: a baguette?

landonorris: that or a magnet or a medal

ynleclerc: you got it bud

user32: charles leclerc the man that you are

user43: i hope they never stop posting wedding photos

ynlecelrc has posted to their story

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user16: THAT MEANS EMOTIONAL SUPPORT PERSON (charles) ALSO ARRIVED AHHHH

yourbff: i miss little leo oh my god he’s so cute

ynleclerc: he’s getting so big 😭😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

charlesleclerc: what about me 🥺 just kidding mon amour

ynleclerc: well you too baby but leo just looked too cute not to post

carlossainz55: principito [little prince] 👑

user17: heck he’s my emotional support pup too

user22: GOOD LUCK TONIGHT Y/N

arthurleclerc: and nothing about your emotional support brother in law???????

ynleclerc: oh hush

arthurleclerc: I WILL NOT BE SILENCED

arthurleclerc: oh and now you leave me on read

F1Gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6 and 123,435 others

F1Gossip: charles was in the stadium today supporting his wife, y/n leclerc, who is playing in the finals of the olympics for the uswnt! fans said charles was spotted with carlos, rebecca, arthur, pascale and lorenzo.

view all 453 comments

user22: all the leclerc’s in attendance stop 😭

user23: this is so sweet omg

user24: why are carlos and rebecca there

user23: y/n and rebecca are best friends!!

user25: the leclerc’s love y/n so much im sick

user26: y/n is living the dream. a footy super star and a member of a truly royal family

user12: i just fell to my knees ,, look how smiley he is

user16: he loves his girl so much

user18: no bc i want someone to be this happy watching me 😭💔

user32: my favorite couple on the grid

user45: i’m not ready for my family to be broken up after abu dhabi

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by charlesleclerc, arthuerleclerc, iamrebeccad, yourbff, uswnt, trinity_rodman, lavellerose, mrapinoe, sbird10, erling.haaland, and 435,273 others

ynleclerc: WE DID IT WE WON GOLD!!! we left absolutely everything out on that pitch - i am so unbelievably proud of this team. thank you to all the fans who supported us along the way and to my beautiful family and husband for making the trip to paris. i love you all 🤍🇺🇸

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user87: so proud of you

yourbff: you are so amazing i love you so much that’s my BEST FRIEND

ynleclerc: BESTIE BESTIE BESTIE

logansargeant: making america proud y/n!

ynleclerc: so are you logie 🇺🇸

charlesleclerc: y/n you inspire me every day. i could not be more in awe of you and everything you have and continue to accomplish. i love you my gorgeous golden girl

ynleclerc: 🥹 charlie!! don’t make me cry again

charlesleclerc: no crying cherie! leo can’t handle his maman crying

ynleclerc: ok i’ll hold it together for the baby

user16: ok but they’d be the cutest actual parents

ynleclerc: and we just might be sooner than you’d think user16

user16: Y/N?!?!?!? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN GIRL PLEASE TELL US RNCIM NAKENFKWNGKG

landonorris: so you are bringing me home a medal

ynleclerc: i told you i would

landonorris: sorry for doubting you bestie

ynleclerc: you should be sorry

user98: THATS OUR GIRL

mrapinoe: congrats y/n! so well deserved 🤍

ynleclerc: megan 😭😭😭😭 thank you

iamrebeccad: see how she wins a gold medal? very demure, very mindful, very cutesy

ynleclerc: see how she’s the most supportive best friend ever? very demure, very mindful, very cutesy

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated. been a bit slow on requests but am going to try to post more this weekend!!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

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inkyarcturus · 4 months ago

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Harry having never learned how to play because the Dursleys refused to buy him toys, Dudley refused to let him play with his, and other kids generally avoided him.

When he gets adopted by Snape, pre-Hogwarts, Snape finds out about Harry never being allowed toys while they’re out shopping and he proceeds to buy him a little dear plush.

Harry is absolutely enamored by the plush, but has absolutely no clue what he’s supposed to do with it at all. So after about 30 minutes of him just appreciatively staring at the stuffed animal, Severus is completely perplexed and asks him what’s wrong.

Harry tries explaining to the best of his ability that he doesn’t know what to do, but truly does love the gift, leading to him asking Snape, “how do I play?”.

Severus is immediately reminded of his own childhood, pre-Lily, where he had no one to play with. He is absolutely distraught that Harry has had a similar childhood experience and needs to fix that now, like right now. He sits down on the floor, crisscross applesauce style, and attempts to teach Harry how to play despite having not done so in over a decade.

“First step, children tend to choose a name for their new toy. What would you think is a good name for our… little friend here?” Severus picks up the plush deer awkwardly.

Harry’s eyes crinkle in delight at the scene.

“Why do kids name them?” Harry tilts his head, staring wide eyed at the plush, “I don’t want to pick the wrong name.”

“Oh? Well, I suppose it makes you feel more attached to the toy, and it helps when it comes to imaginative play to specify which one you are referring to,” the tall man’s brows furrow for a second, “As for choosing the wrong name, there is no ‘wrong’ answer little prince. This is a gift. This is yours.”

Harry blinks, “Mine?”

“That’s right, now name please, it doesn’t need to be perfect, you can always change it later child.”

Looking around the room for inspiration, Harry mumbled out a name, “… Mr. Fawn?”

“Perfect, Mr. Fawn, it is. Now, it’ll be a little difficult to demonstrate pretend play with only one character, but I think I can manage a small display.”

Severus proceeds to give the cutest lil introduction for Mr. Fawn, going so far as to make a voice to keep Harry as engaged as possible. Harry is absolutely having the time of his life giggling, gasping, asking questions and yelling out responses.

They end up doing this until bedtime. Severus gives back Mr. Fawn to Harry so he can sleep with him, watching as they go through their nighttime routine that Harry absolutely refuses to let the deer go. As soon as Severus shuts the lights out in Harry’s room, he hears Harry whisper, “night Sev’rus, night night Mr. Fawn.”

#harry potter #hp fandom #inkyarcturus babbles :p #pro snape #severussnape #severitus #golden trio era #traumatized Harry Potter #abused Harry Potter #sts #hjp #angst #fluff?

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j2hoes · 2 months ago

Text

All Your Fault (Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader)

Word Count: 12.5K

Summary: In no world could Y/N like Steve Harrington, that's what she kept telling herself despite everybody's insistence that he was a good guy. They couldn't possibly be right, could they?

Warnings - Mature Language, Suicide, Mentions Of Sex, Death, Injuries, Bullying, Drug Use

A/N: This is my longest fic yet and of course it's for the one and only Steve Harrington! Just wanted to say that I know this doesn't follow the exact plot and I have changed some things so it fits in with the storyline. Also I am not condoning bullying in any way, shape or form!! Not proofread so forgive me.

“Hey, dingus, we need a ride!”

My bedroom door swings open, just about slamming against the wall before the irritating voice of my younger brother reverberates throughout my bedroom. Startled by the noise, my head snaps in Dustin’s direction. Not expecting to see his little group of friends in tow or for them to be in the company of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. Who I know them to spend a lot of time with nowadays despite my incessant complaints about Harrington being quite possibly the worst person on planet.

“Dude! Knock much?” I groan, swiftly closing the notebook that I had previously been writing in, in order to avoid any wandering eyes. “I was in the middle of something!”

“What? Making out with your stuffed toys?” Dustin jokes, resulting in a few snickers from his friends and a roll of their eyes from the older teens.

“I’d be happy to make out with you.” Mike comments, my brother throwing a small tap to the back of his head in disapproval.

“Ew gross. Get out of my bedroom you little perverts!”

“Listen dickhead, mom and dad have gone to the movies and if I’m remembering correctly they said you have to drive me places when they’re not here. So, we’ll be taking that ride now please.”

“Fuck’s sake.” I grumble, combing my fingers through my hair in annoyance. “Doesn’t your new best friend Steve drive?”

My voice is laced with malice, eyes fixated on the older boy with a glare, eyebrows raised as I await his response. Not that I needed any confirmation, everybody in Hawkins knows that Steve drives. God, he never shuts up about his deep red BMW, it’s one of his more insufferable qualities.

“Yeah, my car is kind of in the garage right now. It’s gonna be out of action for a while.” He admits, cheeks flushing a soft scarlet indicating his embarrassment.

“So that makes you our designated driver.” Dustin tells me, a smug look on his face as he knows that I have no option but to accept defeat. “Plus, your truck is a lot bigger than Steve’s car. You won’t even have to speak to us because we’ll sit in the bed!”

“Fine! But I am not giving you a ride home because I’ve got a shift at the roller rink tonight and I cannot afford to take another night off!” I state, reluctantly grabbing my keys and throwing my fur coat over my shoulders.

Making my way towards the group, they’re quick to make their way down the staircase, scurrying out the front door as though afraid I may change my mind at any given second. I take my time locking up the house, wanting to delay the inevitability of having Steve Harrington in my truck for as long as I physically can. Sure, it’s annoying having to cart my brother and his friends around the town of Hawkins at their will, but the kids, I can deal with. One of my childhood bullies, not so much.

Strolling over to the garage, it’s hard to miss the way Steve and Robin stand close to one another, giggling like school girl’s at whatever they were discussing. With furrowed brows, I can’t help but wonder when they became friends. Not only is Robin a year younger than Steve and I, but she’s also the complete opposite of Steve’s normal company. After all, he is friends with cheerleaders and jocks, Buckley is in the school band and spends most of her free time studying other languages. There is no world in which they could possibly be friends and yet here they are.

“Steve and Robin are gonna ride up front with you.” Dustin speaks, clambering into the bed of the truck with very little grace.

“What? No, you can all get in the back!” I argue, offering Max a hand as she struggles to pull herself up.

“Sorry but eight of us back here is too much of a squeeze, guess you’ll just have to make do.” Lucas remarks, arguing my brother’s case for him, forcing me to plaster on a fake smile as if I couldn’t be happier.

“Okay. Let’s just hope I don’t crash on the way, I’d hate to see a six body pile up on the side of the road.” My tone is ominous and I catch the slight gleam of fear in each and every one of the kid’s eyes. “Where am I taking you assholes?”

“Starcourt please Y/N.” Max hastily replies, hand clutching the side of the truck so tight her knuckles are turning white and I smirk to myself as I close the tailgate, pleased I have managed to instill a sense of panic in the usually overly confident group.

Hopping up into the driver’s seat, I’m about to turn on the ignition when out of the corner of my eye, I register that Steve has taken it upon himself to choose the middle seat. Situating himself comfortably between Robin and I.

“Uh no. Not happening. You two need to switch sides.”

“What why?” Steve questions and I could be wrong but I’m almost positive there is a twinge of hurt in his tone.

“Because I don’t mind Robin.” I smile sweetly at the girl, before replacing it with a scowl as my eyes lay on the chestnut haired doofus. “You, on the other hand, I’d rather take a knife to the eye, than sit besides you.”

As much as it feels like a punch to the gut when I spot the pained expression wash over Harrington’s face, it is completely overshadowed by the sense of pride that I feel at being able to make him feel small, the same way him and his posse of imbeciles did to me for years. I know, deep down, that I should be the bigger person, that just because he treated me poorly throughout our school years that I shouldn’t do the same to him. Yet, I’m resentful. I’m resentful and having accepted the cruelty of this world, I’m also bitter. No longer the sweet and optimistic young girl that I once was.

“Yeah, I actually can’t take the middle seat.” Robin confesses, an awkward smile resting on her face. “I get real bad claustrophobia.”

With an exasperated huff, I focus my eyes on the road as we begin the drive, doing my best to ignore the passenger sitting beside me. Even if I am trying to distract myself, I’m unable to hide my annoyance, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard, I’m afraid it may shatter beneath me.

Fortunately it’s only a short ten minute drive to the Starcourt Mall, as long as traffic is in my favor, I should even shave off a couple of minutes. Though the silence within the small space is deafening, frustrating me even more. Before I can stop myself, I’m reaching over to turn on the radio, hoping the joyful melodies of Joe Jackson’s Steppin’ Out will boost my mood before my shift.

Unluckily for me, as I reach to grab the steering wheel once again, my hand lightly brushes over Steve’s hand, causing me to flinch away with such force it feels as though I have been electrocuted.

“Sorry.” Steve mumbles, tucking his hands away into his pockets to avoid any more uncomfortable interactions.

“So, I’m sensing a teeny bit of tension here.” Robin comments, stating the obvious.

“Yeah, no shit Robin.” I snap, feeling my entire body go stiff at her teasing.

Glancing over at the two teens, I take note of the way Robin slumps down into the seat at my words. Folding her arms over her chest as if she’s a child that has just been scolded by their parents.

“Why are the kids so desperate to go to Starcourt anyway?” I ask, not directing the question at either of them in particular in an attempt to change the subject, feeling slightly guilty at my previous outburst.

“Oh um, we’re meeting Eddie, just thought it’d be nice to take that bunch of losers out for the day you know. Nancy and Jonathan might even be joining us later too!” Robin explains, smiling to herself as she peers out the back window to make sure the kids are doing fine.

“Besides, they deserves a break with everything that’s been-”

“What Steve means to say is that they’ve had a lot on at the moment, what with school. We think they’re getting a little stressed.” Robin interrupts, doing her best to subtly elbow Steve’s stomach, though I’m able to spot it, mostly because his body jerks into mine as she does so.

“Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?” I ask, slyly peering over at them from the corner of my mouth.

“Nope, we’re not hiding anything.” Robin asserts, turning away from me to gaze out of the window.

“Yeah, nothing to tell. Definitely nothing going on.” Steve agrees, the haste in which they both answered only raising my suspicions.

Before I can question them even further, I realize I’m pulling into the Starcourt parking lot. Quickly finding a space and turning off the ignition, I don’t give the duo any time to get out of the car before I’m turning the child lock on, forcing them to remain in the vehicle with me.

“I swear to God, if my baby brother is in any sort of trouble and you haven’t told me, I’ll kill the pair of you, okay?” I ask, both of them nodding their heads furiously at my threat and leaping out of the passenger door the moment that I unlock it.

Rolling down my window, I can hear the kids hopping over the side of the truck, eagerly chattering amongst themselves at the plans they have made for the day. Tiny smile forming on my face as I light a cigarette, watching Dustin jokingly fight with Steve. The interaction holds no maliciousness, I can see no sign of the older boy deliberately trying to hurt him and for a split second I find myself questioning whether it could be possible that the great King Steve has changed in his ways. However, I’m quick to shake that thought away.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that Y/N Henderson?” Eddie Munson’s voice calls from a mere few feet away.

“Oh shit.” I whisper, taking a long drag of my cigarette before jumping out of the truck and resting my back against the door, waiting for him to approach.

It’s safe to say Eddie and I have a complicated relationship. What started out as him simply being nothing more than my dealer, blossomed into a somewhat beautiful friendship. Considering we’re an unlikely duo, we have a lot in common. Sharing similar taste in films, books and sense of humor.

I suppose it was inevitable that we’d end up sleeping together. Fuelled by our drug induced state, we shared a very hot and very exciting night of passion together. Following with me sneaking out of his trailer first thing the next morning after I had slowly come to my senses and discerned that our relationship should remain just friends. Not wanting to pursue anything at this moment in time.

“Hey Eddie, it’s been a while.” I comment, flicking the ash from my cigarette onto the ground as he places an arm beside my head, caging me between his body and the truck.

“I never heard from you.” He speaks quietly, doing his best to avoid the attention of the group standing not too far from us.

“I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot going on.” I mumble, looking anywhere but the boy in front of me.

As my gaze finds the group, my eyes instantly fall upon Steve Harrington. He’s speaking to Max, clearly in some sort of debate with her that looks like it may be about to explode into a full blown argument, yet his attention is solely focused on me. Observing the close proximity between me and the metalhead. His eyes falling to my lips as I allow the smoke to exhale from my mouth.

“You know, you could at least look at me when I’m talking to you.” Eddie chuckles, attempting to hide the hurt undertone in his voice, head rotating to follow the direction of my eyeline.

“Sorry, I just don’t get what Harrington’s problem is. He’s been staring over here this entire time.” I tell him, finally staring up at the tall boy.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asks, teasing smile resting upon his lips. I shake my head slowly, dropping the cigarette to the ground. “He thinks you’re hot.”

My hands slap against his chest instinctively, the idea being completely and utterly absurd to me that I have to laugh.

“I’m serious! Look at you, you’re a fucking smoke show.” Eddie asserts, pushing his argument even more as he sneaks another glance over to the topic of our conversation. “Want me to prove it?”

The idea of Steve Harrington finding me even remotely attractive is so far off the table that I find myself entertained by the idea of proving Eddie wrong. I’m sure he’s simply intrigued by the idea of me and the freak being friends, nothing more.

With a small nod, Eddie’s hands drop to my waist, touch as light as a feather to not push any boundaries that I may not be comfortable with. Playing along with his antics, I take the lapels of his leather jacket in my hands, pulling his body impossibly closer to mine. The hard expression on Steve’s face is difficult to miss as Eddie’s head rests in the crook of my neck, peppering gentle kisses along the base.

“Ew Eddie, come on man! That’s my sister!” Dustin’s whines pull us back to reality and Eddie takes a dramatic step away from me to please the curly haired young boy.

Although we now stand with plenty of space between the two of us, Harrington’s face remains in the same cold expression as before. Jaw clenched tightly as his eyes flick between Eddie and I. Leaving me more confused than ever at what his problem is.

“Alright, see you later kids.” I shout, climbing back into my truck and leaving them in the capable hands of their babysitters. “Don’t be causing any trouble!”

***

Steve could think of nothing other than the mean girl that had reluctantly drove them to the mall. It didn’t matter how many stores they went in, or arcade games they played, he just couldn’t get her off his mind. Wondering why she had such a huge vendetta against him. What could he possibly have done to this girl, that he is almost certain he has never met before, to cause her to act in such an unpleasant way towards him.

He knew he hadn’t been the nicest of guys throughout high school, caring more about his popularity and how his friends perceived him than being a decent person. However, he was sure he’d remember if he had been rude to her. He was sure he wouldn’t have been rude to a girl like her. Hell, he was wondering why he hadn’t pursued her sooner. Her beauty indescribable and more radiant than any other girl he had seen before.

“Steve, what’s going on? I’m regretting picking you to be on my team!” Dustin exclaims, frustrated at the loss of yet another game due to Steve’s lack of focus.

“That was your sister?” He asks in disbelief, still completely overwhelmed by the limited interaction they had shared hours prior.

“Yeah, she’s a full on bitch right?” Dustin comments, unaware of his friend’s infatuation.

“Has she always been that unkind?” Steve asks, causing Dustin to look up at him with a questioning glint in his eye.

“Oh you got to face her wrath did you?” The younger boy laughs, amused at the thought of his normally cool and charming friend being bitched out by his older sister. “Yeah, she still hates you dude, never shuts up about you actually.”

“Wait, she talks about me?” His tone is hopeful, feeling pleased to know that he’s on her mind. I mean, that’s got to be a good sign, right?

“Calm down loverboy. It’s not a good thing.” Dustin smirks, though when he sees the downcast look on his friend's face, he can’t but sigh, patting him on the shoulder lightly. “Look, I think you’re cool, smart, charming, and some would say classically handsome but my sister usually refers to you as a no good, shit for brains, wank stain. Amongst other things, that’s usually her preferred term.”

Steve sighs at his words, combing his fingers through his hair awkwardly as he comes to terms with the fact that he quite possibly has a zero percent chance of becoming romantically involved with the intriguing girl. He knew that since leaving high school his luck with the ladies had severely dwindled, struggling to maintain a relationship that didn’t solely focus on sex, and yet, his heart sank a little lower knowing that the one girl that had truly piqued his interest was the one girl he would never stand a chance with.

Dustin, on the other hand, took pity on the boy he looked up to. Despite the countless tales of torture and misery that he knew Steve had put his sister through during their school years, he knew that the boy had changed. Sure, he’d felt sympathy towards Steve when he ended up working at Scoops Ahoy following his graduation, knowing how much it took a hit to his ego that he’d lost his King Steve title and was now serving children scoops of ice cream every passing day. However, he knew that the shitty job was a good thing for his friend, alongside his role as the unofficial group babysitter and assisting in their pursuit to save Hawkins, Dustin knew deep down that taking such a low blow was Steve’s saving grace. Reminding him that he wasn’t in fact above everybody else and truly changing him for the better. The young boy had seen it, but he also couldn’t blame his sister for being blind to it.

“Look Steve, I know that you’re a good person and I know that you’ve changed but you put Y/N through hell. She struggled a lot at the hands of you and your friends and I know she’d kill me for telling you this but she’s been in therapy since she was fourteen years old because of what you guys did to her. We were really worried about her actually.” Dustin admits, Steve’s breath catching in his throat as he hears the shakiness in the boy’s voice. “My parents still are. She didn’t even bother applying to college, and now she spends most of her time hiding herself away in her room or getting high with Eddie.”

“Dustin I’m so sorry, I don’t even remember her.” Steve states, struggling to get over the sinking feeling in his stomach that seems to be consuming him.

“Of course you don’t remember her, you only thought about yourself and your stupid friends back then.” Those words hit Steve like a ton of bricks, never had anybody truly called him out on his former behavior, not to this extent anyway. “Look, you just need to show her you’re a good guy, I’m not gonna say it’ll be easy because if I know Y/N, then I know she can be a cruel, heartless bitch, but I also know that she has a good heart and as long as you can prove to her that you’re sorry and that you’ve changed then she’ll come around. Maybe just wait until after we’ve destroyed the Mind Flayer.”

***

Monday nights at the roller rink are always notoriously quiet, only a couple of people passing through our doors for the majority of the night. I’ve argued with my manager on numerous occasions, pleading with him to change our closing time from eleven to nine, but to no avail, I fail every single time. As a punishment for doing so, I’m placed on almost every monday night shift alone, which wouldn’t be too bad, had I something to do. Instead I stand at the counter, lazily snacking on some popcorn that I most definitely didn’t pay for, awaiting any customers that may wander into the building.

Hearing the large doors squeak open, I immediately straighten my posture, my best winning smile slapped on my face as I prepare to serve the group that just strolled through the doors. That is until I see the group just so happens to be the same group that I dropped off at the mall earlier in the day. Smile dropping from my face almost instantly.

“What do you want?”

“Don’t you mean, welcome to Paradise Skate World, how can I be of assistance?” Eddie jokes, leaning against the countertop.

“No, I mean what do you want?”

Wasting no time, the group excitedly shout their shoe sizes at me, a flurry of words and numbers that I struggle to understand. After swapping a few pairs multiple times, I finally manage to line nine pairs of rollerskates along the countertop, the kids frantically grabbing at them and discarding their personal shoes all over the floor. Not caring to use the cubby holes provided.

“That’ll be twenty seven dollars please.” My voice is monotonous, not caring to be pleasant with them, not that they seem to care.

Steve doesn’t speak as he hands over thirty dollars, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ as I hand him his change. He sits beside Robin on one of the dirty old benches, helping her to lace up the boots before slowly escorting her over to the rink where she is left in the capable hands of the younger teens. Who, for whatever reason, all seem to be incredibly confident on eight wheels.

Having lost sight of Steve as my attention was fixed on the kids gleefully skating around the rink, I round the counter preparing to pick up all of their discarded shoes, only to see the boy already on the floor matching pairs of shoes together.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I tell him, joining him on the carpet to gather together the rest of the shoes.

If I didn’t dislike him so much, I’d think his actions were sweet. Paying for the entire group and cleaning up after them, he’s a customer service worker's dream, yet I still can’t help but feel resentful. Why couldn’t he have been like this in high school?

“I know, but those guys make so much mess that it’s not fair to leave it all for you to clean up.” Steve comments, placing the last pair of shoes in one of the cubby holes. He rises to his feet slowly before offering his hand to help me up. However, I choose not to accept his help, rising to my feet without his assistance.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

He smiles softly at me, returning to the bench to remove his own shoes and placing the rollerskates on. When he rises from the bench, I can’t help but giggle at the shakiness in his legs, standing like a baby deer, he just about makes it to the countertop before needing to grab hold of it in order to keep himself upright. Resulting in a loud laugh from me, finding much amusement in the situation.

“Need some help Harrington?” I ask through my roars of laughter, having to cover my mouth to keep my volume down as he looks at me with sheer panic in his eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna just stand there and laugh at me in my time of need?” He questions, flashing a cheesy smile my way to ensure I know that he is joking.

With a small sigh, I make my way over to him, taking his hands in mine, forcing him to let go of the countertop that he was clutching onto.

“I may not like you Steve Harrington, but I’m not gonna let you fall on your ass like an idiot, not with the kids watching.” I state, walking backwards at a snail’s pace to allow him to find his feet. “Besides, it’s company policy to offer a hand when needed.”

Steve laughs at my words, a deep chuckle that causes my mouth to quirk upwards. Am I actually smiling in the presence of Steve Harrington? Shaking my head, I rid myself of the contentment on my face.

“I’m going to embarrass myself aren’t I?” He asks, staring over my shoulder towards the rink with worry. “I don’t know why they thought this was a good idea, I’ve never skated in my life.”

“That’s probably exactly why they wanted to come here. They get to embarrass you and they also get to annoy the fuck out of me at the same time.”

“I’ll try my best to keep them from annoying you, it’s the least I can do after ruining your peaceful evening.” His voice is soft, and I find myself unable to look away from his face.

It comes as no shock that the boy is attractive, he had girls falling over their feet for him since the moment he hit puberty. I’d never understood the obsession with King Steve, though I suppose I’d never been this close to him before. Never able to see how boyishly handsome he was.

Chestnut brown hair that falls lazily over his forehead, coffee coloured eyes that hold a deep softness and a cheeky twinkle. His nose falls in a perfect slope, lips plump in a gorgeous salmon color with a sprinkling of light freckles scattered across his face. He truly is the epitome of beauty, it’s just such a shame that his personality is completely lacking.

I’m snapped out of my trance when I feel the hardwood of the rink beneath my feet, hesitantly letting go of Steve’s hands as he pushes himself forward ever so slowly. Testing the waters as to how far he can go without falling flat on his face.

“Well you did it. Now you just have to show that pack of dickheads that their ploy to embarrass you isn’t going to work.”

He smiles at my comment, opening his mouth to say something in return, however, I spin myself around and hastily walk back to my position at the counter before he can say anything. Muttering a small ‘have fun’ as I do so. Not wanting to be entranced by him further and not wanting to forget about all the shit he put me through just because we had a fairly nice interaction for all of ten minutes.

In an effort to distract myself, I busy myself with cleaning any and every surface behind the counter. Very unusual behavior for me, but at this point, I would do anything to get the thought of Steve possibly being a good person out of my mind. Even if I have to spend my time cleaning to do so. Though, I guess anything is better than gazing longingly over at the boy in the rink and trying to ignore the racing of my heart.

“You know, I used to think Steve was a bad guy too.”

Robin’s voice startles me as I don’t notice her standing by the counter, she’s smirking playfully at me.

“How the fuck are you and him friends? I mean, no offense but you’re exactly the type of person whose life he would’ve ruined in high school.” I don’t mean to come across as rude but my tone definitely says otherwise, Robin raising her eyebrows at my statement, clearly taking offense.

“Steve has a good heart, he’s doing his best. I know it’s not my place to say anything and I have no idea what went down between the two of you but what I do know is that if he can reconcile with Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie then perhaps that’s a sign you should give him a chance.” Robin remarks and against my best judgment, my eyes instantly find him out on the floor of the rink. Max and El hold his hands as they drag him around, all proudly displaying their delight.

“He did a lot of fucked up shit to me Robs.” I sigh, knowing that no matter how much I want to forgive him, I’ll most likely take my hatred to the grave. “They all did.”

The girl follows my lead and releases her own sigh, reaching across the countertop to take my hands in her’s. Thumbs gently stroking the backs of my palms.

“I know, I’m not going to excuse his behavior. He was a complete asshole, even when I first met him, I thought he was an asshole but he proved me wrong. Trust me, I never thought I’d be over here vouching for Steve Harrington of all people.” Robin’s gaze never leaves mine as she speaks, asserting just how much she truly means the words she’s saying. “Just maybe try to let go of that grudge you’re holding, I reckon you two would actually make pretty good friends.”

***

Regardless of how much I tossed and turned, Robin’s words kept me awake for hours. Unable to sleep and with no sign of tiring myself out anytime soon, I decided to do the next best thing. Hence why I am now sitting on one of the many docks stretching out into the depths of Lovers Lake. Joint in hand as I try to process all the emotions I had managed to bury deep within me for so long.

The joint does nothing to soothe my shaking body, though I’m unsure of whether it’s from the frosty fall air or the recent events that seem to have dredged up everything in my past that I had tried to forget, either way, I wrap my fur coat tighter around myself as a weak attempt to ease the shaking. God, if only Dustin hadn’t gone and befriended the one person that caused me so much pain.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize anybody would be here.” The voice from behind catches me by surprise, not expecting anybody else to be down here at two am. Glancing over my shoulder, I can’t help but laugh at the world’s cruel sense of humor as the person racing through my mind stands only mere feet away. “Wait, are you crying?”

Raising a trembling hand to my face, I feel the dampness of my cheeks, clearly too high to discern that I had in fact been crying. The fact causing me to laugh once more and Steve’s face floods with one of worry, hesitantly trudging towards me and taking a seat beside me, swinging his feet over the side of the dock in the same manner as mine.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, genuinely seeming to care about the reason for my tears, tone soft with no evidence of an ulterior motive.

“No.” I admit, offering him a weak smile whilst quickly wiping the tears away that roll down my face. “No, I’m not okay and I haven’t been for such a long time and I don’t even know why I’m telling you this because it’s all your fault.”

Steve’s mouth opens to speak and yet no words come out. Guilt scrawled across his face as he attempts to come up with the words to comfort me. Once again, I can’t help but laugh at the humorous nature of the situation. I’ve never opened up to anybody about how I’m truly feeling, hell, even my therapist doesn’t know the half of it but who feels comfortable enough to voice their darkest thoughts to a complete stranger in a very clinical setting? I’m going to blame the joint for my willingness to open up to the one person who I’d rather never speak to again.

“It’s probably really shitty of me and you probably don’t want to hear it but I am so sorry Y/N. Truly, I can’t even begin to describe how sorry I am.” Steve tells me, voice shaking and almost catching in his throat, however, he never once looks away from me. Forcing himself to own up to what he did. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Taking a drag of the joint, we remain in silence for a few moments, the only sounds to be heard are that of my repeated sniffles. It’s almost comforting in a way that the boy doesn’t speak, not rushing me nor pressuring me to accept his apology.

“It’s funny you know, I thought I would’ve moved on from it by now. I thought that as soon as I graduated I would’ve been able to forget everything that you and your friends did to me and leave it all in the past.” I state, not even knowing where to start. I never expected to be in this position, never thought I’d get the chance to confront the monsters from my childhood but as he sits before me, he doesn’t seem to be much of a monster. “You and Carol and Tommy, you guys destroyed me. You hated me so much that I began to hate myself and I’ve never recovered from that.”

Steve lets out a sharp exhale, causing me to look over at him and what I see shocks me deeply. Although he’s trying his best to hide it, I don’t miss the tears that fall slowly down his cheeks. Guilt consuming him as he comes to terms with his actions and the direct consequences they had as a result.

“I almost killed myself, Steve.”

My words hit him like a knife to the chest and his head is snapping to face me so fast, I fear he may have given himself whiplash. Mouth slightly open in shock as he processes what I just confessed.

“You, you wh-”

“You’re not to blame for that. I could never blame you for that.” I whisper, feeling lighter as I open myself up more and more for the very first time.

“How, how did-” Steve stops himself before he speaks, this time it’s him that’s wiping away tears. “What happened?”

I know Steve is questioning whether it’s appropriate to ask. Unsure of whether I’m willing to talk about the most traumatic most of my life thus far, especially with him. With nerves coursing through my veins, I shakily offer him the joint, he accepts with a small smile, slowly taking a long drag, allowing the weed to flood through his body.

“Junior year. I think I’d been planning it for a while, or at least thinking about it. That day, I think you must’ve been at a basketball game or something, Carol and Tommy they-” I sob hysterically, feeling so much shame as I explain everything to him. “They cornered me in an alley as I was walking home. It was just the usual insults, but when I didn’t react they got angry. I don’t really remember it all, I think I’ve tried to black it out but I woke up unconscious in that alley, and I just remember feeling so at peace when I laid there.

So I went home, ran straight up to my room because I didn’t want anybody to see me. As soon as I looked in the mirror, I just felt disgusting. My eye was all swollen and my face was just covered in bruises and scratches. Not that I felt beautiful before, but I felt hideous.

I’d been hoarding my pills for weeks at that point and I just began to take them. Handfuls at a time, I think I got about halfway through my stockpile before my mom walked in. She was screaming and crying and I couldn’t do anything, I just passed out.”

“Fuck.” Steve whispers, trying to suppress his own sniffles.

“I was in the hospital for about a week, apparently they pumped my stomach and I only have very minor damage to my internal organs. I had to practically beg them not to take me to the psych ward though.” I chuckle at the memory, pleading with the doctors that I was fine and it was all just a mistake, even though that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“I had no idea that Carol and Tommy did that to you.” Steve admits, dropping the joint into the lake as he clenches his fists tightly at the thought of what took place in that alleyway. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I could spend my life apologizing to you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

I’ve never seen Steve so emotional before, candidly breaking down in the most vulnerable way as he allows his sobs to be released. Face flushed scarlet and throat raw from how much he is wailing. I thought I would feel better if I made him feel the same as he made me feel. If I made him cry so hard that he thought he would never feel happiness again. However, seeing him in this state doesn’t even make me the tiniest bit happier. It doesn’t bring me an ounce of joy to see the boy this way no matter how much I thought I would.

In all honesty, it hurts more so knowing that my words are the cause of the pain and turmoil that Steve is in right now. As much as I had built up such a cold and callous exterior trying desperately to protect myself from the harshness of this world, I know deep down that internally, I’m nothing like I portray myself to be.

Once he gains his composure, Steve manages to speak through deep breaths, “Do you know what’s funny?”

His question throws me off guard, tilting my head and raising a brow, alerting him of my piqued interest.

“I’ve also tried to block out most of high school. I didn’t even recognise you today and couldn’t understand why you were acting the way you were. Which I now realize makes me sound like even more of a dickhead.” He laughs quietly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck to relieve the tension within him. “As soon as I got home, I spent hours, staring at your pictures in the yearbook, remembering everything that we put you through. I’ve never felt more guilty about something in my life and I felt disgusted with myself that I would treat such a beautiful person as though they were anything but.”

“You’re just saying that.” I retort, not wanting to believe that he would spend so long staring at the photos of me that I hated so much. Not only that but not wanting to believe he could find such photos of me to be beautiful.

“I mean it! I was a stupid, pathetic little boy that just wanted to prove myself to the people that I thought were cool. I never thought about the effect my actions were having on people and now that high school’s over, none of that popularity shit matters.” He states, wishing that he could take back all of the cruel things he did to his peers. “None of it matters. I’m a fucking loser now. I work at an ice cream store in the mall where I have to wear a stupid sailor’s outfit, I have no college prospects, no girlfriend and I hang out with a bunch of sixteen year olds in my spare time. All that high school shit, it means nothing now.”

“You’re not a loser Steve Harrington.” I giggle, nudging his shoulder gently with my own. “You’ve just made some very poor decisions that are now biting you on the ass.”

“Hey, why aren’t you at college? If the yearbook is anything to go by you were one of the smartest people in our grade.”

I try not to feel upset by the boy’s question, knowing he means no harm. However, I also know that as much as Steve has made poor decisions, so have I. Decisions that directly affected my path to college and resulted in me working at the roller rink.

“Didn’t study those yearbooks well enough clearly.” I joke, believing that if I’m able to laugh about my situation then perhaps I won’t burst into tears yet again. “Last year I kind of gave up with school. After what happened junior year, I just didn’t see the point in trying anymore. Started skipping classes and when I was there I was too high to learn anything. My grades dropped and so did my chances at college.”

“I really fucked things up for you didn’t I?” Steve asks, tone suggesting it’s more of a statement rather than I question.

“The roller rink isn’t so bad, I mean I get to skate for free and the pay is pretty good.”

I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me, he knows I’m bothered about not going to college, despite this, he doesn’t push me. Doesn’t force me to admit the truth. For that, I’m thankful.

Casting my gaze over the lake, the first light of the sun shines bright through the treeline. A warm amber glow, illuminating the still water beneath my feet. Birds wake from their slumber and their faint chirps echo across the lake. There’s something so peaceful within this moment and for the first time in years I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my chest. One that I was unaware had been weighing me down.

“I should probably be getting home before my parents wake up. Really don’t need to be giving my parents another reason to worry about me.” I state, steadily rising to my feet, the warmth instantly escaping my body as the sharp breeze nips at the full length of my body.

“Yeah, I should get back too, I should at least try to get some sleep before work.” Steve comments, walking in step with me along the dock.

We walk in silence, the sound of the dark oak creaking beneath our feet. A solemn cloud follows us as we head back to reality, most likely never to speak of this night again. Neither one of us wanting to reflect on the distress we shared at Lovers Lake.

“I think maybe people are right about you.” I declare upon reaching my truck, much to the shock of the boy standing opposite.

“What?” He asks, in disbelief at the confession I had just made.

“I think that maybe you are a good guy.”

***

“Have you taken your pills today?” My mom checks, shaking the little orange pill bottle on my desk as though she can feel if it is lighter than yesterday.

“Of course I have.” I mumble, dragging my hands across my face, exhausted from the late night I had endured.

“I’m only checking sweetheart, you know I worry about you.” She wraps her arms around me from behind as she speaks, squeezing me tightly, more so for her own comfort rather than mine. “Now, your dad and I are leaving town for a few nights. He has a meeting up in Indianapolis, but if you don’t feel like you’re well enough to stay here alone with Dusty then I am more than happy to stay behind.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine, honestly.” I whine, feeling guilty that she dwells on my wellbeing so much. “I promise.”

I love my parents. I really and truly do, more than anything on this earth. Nevertheless our relationship has been somewhat strained since the events of sophomore year. My mom treats me like I’m made of glass, one wrong move and I’ll shatter into one million tiny pieces. My dad is arguably even worse, refusing to even acknowledge what took place nor speaking on the topic of my mental stability. Dustin tries his hardest to make things feel normal, but there’s only so much a sixteen year old can do to try and hold their family in place.

Not only do I feel guilty about the way I make my parents stress about me, but I also feel guilty for the way this has affected Dustin. Our parents are often so preoccupied with ensuring that I’m well and doing fine, that they often forget about their other child. Sometimes, it feels as if I’m the only person that notices Dustin’s presence. Or lack thereof, what with him spending more and more time with his friends and Steve. Frequently returning home stressed, anxious or just generally in a bad mood and in all honesty his behavior has started to concern me. Though it appears that I may have been the only one to notice.

“I need a ride to Starcourt.” As if on cue, Dustin’s head pops around my bedroom door, demanding yet another ride.

“Your manners really could use some work kid.” I tell him, to which he shrugs and I find myself grabbing my keys with less reluctance than I had the previous day.

The drive to the mall passes by a lot faster than it had on the uncomfortable journey the day before. Filled with Dustin singing at the top of his lungs to whatever cheesy pop song was playing on the radio and me secretly hoping deep down that I’ll catch a glimpse, or even better a chance to talk to Steve again.

My former bully had somehow managed to penetrate my thoughts ever since we departed ways in the early hours of the morning. Consumed by the thoughts of where we go from here, was our emotional conversation reserved for that one night only or would we develop a casual friendship? As much as I was pretending like nothing had happened, I was itching to know how Steve was feeling.

Before I know it, I’m turning off the ignition and the boy in question is directly in my eyeline. Lazily smoking a cigarette against the side of the entrance to the mall. Presumably waiting for my little brother in order to escort him into Scoops Ahoy, so he is unable to cause any mischief on his way to the store.

Steve spots my truck almost instantly and I could be mistaken, but it certainly looks as though his eyes lock on mine straight away. I hardly register Dustin jumping out of the truck as Steve flicks the cigarette butt to the ground, strolling towards the truck and before I can stop myself I’m climbing out of my seat. Much to the surprise of my brother.

“Hi.” Steve mumbles nervously, a soft rose tint settling upon his cheeks.

“Hi.” I reply just as awkwardly, my face no doubt the same shade as his.

“Okay, this is weird. I’m just gonna-” Dustin uncomfortably points towards the main doors before hurrying off in that direction, eager to get away from whatever is happening between Steve and I.

“So about last night-”

“I want to forgive you.”

We both speak at the same time, sharing anxious smiles as neither of us dares to make the first move. Though after taking a deep breath, I find myself being the one to break the tension.

“I want to forgive you. I meant what I said, that I think you’re a good guy.” I state, timidly picking at my fingers as I try to look anywhere other than the dark haired boy. “I don’t think I’m fully there yet, I think I’ve still got some shit that I need to work through but I’d like to. You don’t deserve to be hated for the stuff you did as a kid, especially when I can see how hard you’re trying to be a better person.”

I’ve barely finished speaking when Steve’s arms are wrapped firmly around my shoulders, pulling me into a firm hug and for whatever strange reason, I hug him back. Cautiously sliding my arms around his toned waist and allowing my head to rest against his chest. Inhaling his scent deeply, an intense sandalwood with a hint of cigarette smoke and despite all of my logic within me screaming to snap out of it, I can’t resist his musk, finding myself strongly intoxicated by it.

“I swear you won’t regret it, I’m going to spend every day making it up to you for as long as I live.” Steve mutters into my hair, gently pulling away from me once he stops speaking.

“How about we start with a free ice cream and go from there?” I ask cheekily, causing him to beam cheerfully at me with a swift nod.

“I’m sure I can manage that.” He laughs, before we make our way into the mall, joining the group of kids inside Scoops Ahoy, much to Dustin’s disapproval at my presence.

Sliding into the booth besides Max, I’m acutely aware of the way the group huddles closer together, voices lowering to no louder than a whisper. Even Eddie Munson, who’s voice can usually be heard for miles, speaks in a hushed voice.

Narrowing my eyes, I try to pick up any of the conversation, only able to hear certain words here and there. Their side of the table is scattered with papers and I’m able to make out what looks like a map of Starcourt. Although I am completely baffled, if not slightly annoyed at their secrecy, I can only assume that this has something to do with one of their Dungeons and Dragons campaigns.

“You and Harrington made up then?” Robin inquires when I join her at the counter, resting my elbows against the cool marble.

“Kind of. I don’t know, we talked for hours last night and as much as I want to hate him, I just can’t.”

Robin can sense how difficult it is for me to acknowledge my willingness to believe her friend has changed. She knows that it’ll be a long road going forward, and yet she’s unable to hide her pride. Not only at her friend for accepting the suffering he caused, but also at my openness to trust that somehow Steve isn’t such a bad guy.

“Yeah I’ve heard, he hasn’t been able to talk about anything else other than the heart to heart you two shared last night. I’m really proud of him, he’s come a long way.” Robin explains, busying herself with preparing a milkshake that she smoothly slides my way with a knowing wink. “Consider that on me, you deserve it, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to make my childhood bullies confront their own actions the same way you did. It took real guts.”

“As much as I would like to take credit, I think the weed was probably more to thank.” I disclose, taking a short sip of the strawberry treat in front of me. “I have a tendency to get real honest when I’m high.”

“Don’t I know it sweetheart.” Eddie chortles, dipping his finger into the cream atop my milkshake and licking it off dramatically.

“Ew get your own!” I groan, pulling the glass away from the metalhead as he tries to swipe some more cream.

“Where’s Harrington anyway? Those little dickheads are going over our game plan and apparently he is a pivotal part in their plan and is needed right away.” The boy asks Robin, eyes scanning the room as if Steve is hiding in one of the red leather booths.

“He’s in the back, apparently he wanted to make Y/N’s ice cream extra special.” Robin speaks, nodding her head towards the staff only door.

“What’s he gonna do? Jizz on it?” The moment the words leave his mouth, Robin and I are both groaning, disgusted by the question.

“Do you have to be so repulsive all of the time?” I ask, hearing the squeak of a door followed by rapid footsteps.

“I didn’t hear any complaints when my mouth was between your legs!”

“That’s because you can’t speak whilst you're down there!”

So caught up in our current argument, I fail to spot Steve uneasily standing at the other side of the counter. A large scoop of cherry ice cream sits in a tub before him, decorated elegantly with a large helping of sprinkles, pieces of chocolate and a singular maraschino cherry placed neatly on top.

“Is this a bad time?” He questions hesitantly, carefully observing Eddie and I, a twinge of what I can only perceive as jealousy flashes across his face. However, it disappears before I analyze it any further.

“No, no. Not a bad time at all.” The words tumble out of my mouth with haste, Robin struggling to hide the amused expression on her face as she witnesses the tension between us.

“One scoop of cherry swirl, with all the toppings. On me, as promised.” He announces gleefully, pushing it towards me with a small plastic spoon, which I am more than happy to accept.

“Thank you.”

I delicately place the cherry between my lips, pulling it from the stem which I then twist between my fingers absentmindedly. Though, I feel the warmth rising to my cheeks as I catch sight of the three of them staring at me, eyes trained on my mouth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that can make eating fruit look so hot.” Eddie comments, pupils blown out causing me to grimace.

“Hey Steve! We need to go over the plan!” Lucas’ yell, alleviates the awkwardness of the current situation.

“Always the goddamn babysitter.” He mutters under his breath, offering me an apologetic glance before meandering over to the group of youths, Eddie Munson in tow.

“Now I don’t want to alarm you, especially not with how fresh your reconciliation with Steve is but I think he may have a teeny tiny crush on you.” Robin whispers, moving her head closer to mine in an effort to remain inconspicuous.

“What? No, no, he’s just being nice is all.” I shut down her theory quickly, fixating my gaze on the melting ice cream so as not to reveal the bashfulness slapped across my face. “Anyway, what’s that all about? New campaign? I didn’t think D&D would be the sort of things you and Steve would be into.”

“I see what you’re doing and I’m just going to go along with it.” Robin says, referencing the fact that I am so obviously trying to change the subject. She turns away from, as she continues to speak, occupying herself with refilling the toppings station. “It’s just a stupid thing they’re planning, some big quest. Steve and I just kind of got roped into it I guess, but it’s not so bad.”

Her response is vague and leaves me with more questions than I previously had, not entirely believing that her and Steve could possibly be lame enough to enjoy the fictional realms of Dungeons and Dragons. I let it slide though, thankful that she didn’t push me to discuss the possibility of Steve Harrington liking me and so I return the favor. Accepting that there is a very probable, most likely embarrassing reason that they’re not telling me about their secret activities.

***

Most young people would kill for the opportunity to have an empty house. It’s the time to throw wild parties or hook up with a guy without having to sneak around or risk being caught by nose parents. Or even worse, younger siblings. Had I been a normal eighteen year old girl, there was no doubt in my mind that I would be doing exactly that.

Instead, I’m lounging on my bed, recapping the events of the past couple of days to my diary as I try to fill the deafening sound of silence with the beautiful vocals of Stevie Nicks. I’d never truly realized just how eerie and isolating our home could be without the usual noise of my family. No football game broadcast on the television, or the clattering of pots in the kitchen, not even the sound of Dustin screaming down his walkie talkie. It fills me with a sense of unease that I can’t seem to shake.

Just as I’m about to try and fill the void by running the bathtub to take a relaxing soak, I become distracted by the high pitched shrill of the phone on my bedside table. Curiosity engulfing me and I wonder who could be calling me at such a late hour. Better yet, who has got the phone number that is usually only reserved for Eddie or my parents.

“Y/N, I don’t have much time so you have to listen to me carefully!” Steve’s voice is full of panic as he hurriedly speaks down the line, my body instantly going stiff at the urgency of his tone. “I’m so sorry and I should’ve told you sooner but Dustin was adamant that he wanted to keep you out of it.”

“Out of what? What’s going on? Is Dustin okay?”

“I can’t explain other the phone, you’d never believe me anyway, but we really need your help. Just get to the Starcourt as soon as you can, please. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” Steve spits out, the uproar of what sounds like wind almost drowning him out. “And bring a weapon!”

With that, the line cuts off. I remain still, nostrils flared as my hands continue to hold on to the phone, knuckles white. My heart feels like it is about to burst violently out of my chest and I struggle to gain my composure with such short, rapid breaths.

“Okay, it’s gonna be okay. I’m sure it’s nothing, they probably just need a ride again.” I mumble to myself, grabbing my keys and racing down the stairs. “Yeah, that makes total sense, I mean a girl should always carry a weapon when alone at night.”

Hands trembling furiously, I stand opposite my dad’s rifle cabinet, staring at the gun through the sheer glass. Questioning whether I’m truly about to take his property. I’ve only shot a gun once, I was twelve and my dad took me hunting. It didn’t become a regular thing, my dad refusing to take me again after I burst into tears upon shooting a deer.

Despite the fear racing through my body, before I can even think about what I’m doing, I’m grabbing a vase off one of the shelves. Using all of my strength to smash it straight into the glass, thousands of miniscule shards flying everywhere. Flinching as it hits me with force, ripping open small wounds across the exposed skin of my face, neck and arms. Though I only really register the injuries on my hand, the flesh of my knuckles shredded brutally from where my hand made contact with the pane. Vase doing little to take the extent of the collision.

A shaky exhale escapes my throat, grabbing the rifle despite my second thoughts. Sticky, crimson liquid dripping against the heel of the gun, staining the burnt mahogany.

“Sorry dad.” I speak quietly, frowning slightly upon seeing the mess of broken glass across the lounge.

In my hurry to leave, I don’t even bother to lock the doors of our house. Focusing on nothing other than getting to Starcourt as quickly as I physically can. Throwing the gun carelessly on my passenger seat, I’m in autopilot as I start the engine. My driving being much more reckless than usual, ignoring speed limits and stop signs in my race to get to the mall.

The closer I get, the more I start to question what type of danger I am just about to get myself into. Sky above the large building an array of violet and sapphire amidst the dark black of the night. Wind whirling harshly around my truck, the closer I get. It feels reminiscent of a tornado, a ruthless storm that holds no mercy.

Arriving in the parking lot, I’m able to see a singular car parked by the entry doors. Nancy, Jonathan, Will and Lucas scurry around the vehicle, clearly in search of something and don’t seem to care at all about the volatile weather that Hawkins is experiencing.

“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Dustin?” I shout, rifle in hand as I sprint towards the burgundy car. The group ignoring my arrival and instead climbing into the vehicle’s interior.

Squeezing myself in besides Will and Lucas, it’s only at that moment that they acknowledge me. Faces ranging from confusion, to shock, to anger. Not a single one of them displays any positive emotion at my being there.

“What are you doing here?” Jonathan asks, voice raised and tone harsh, wounding me more so than I thought possible.

“Where the fuck is Dustin?” I spit, solely caring about ensuring the safety of my baby brother. Knowing that if anything happened to him I would never forgive myself. “Where the fuck is my brother?”

‘I don’t know, okay Y/N. He’s with Erica!” Nancy yells, preoccupied with pulling open the glove compartment and rooting around urgently.

“Erica? Erica as in your ten year old sister?” I snap, attention diverted towards Lucas who stares at me with worry, afraid of how I am about to react. “What the actual fuck?”

“Look I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re kind of in the middle of something and you really shouldn’t be here.” Nancy tells me, finally turning herself to look at me from the passenger seat.

I’ve never seen her look so troubled, face free of makeup and stress lines prominent. She’s too young to look as agonized as she does, asserting to me that whatever is currently taking place is far beyond what I could have ever imagined. Far more threatening than anything I could dream up.

“I think I’ve got it.” Jonathan announces, a chorus of relieved sighs escaping the group.

“Get it started then.” Nancy pushes, watching anxiously as Jonathan begins to fiddle with the car wires, hands clammy from the stress of the current circumstances.

“Guys, we could have a problem.” Will mutters, eyes trained out of the window to the otherside of the parking lot.

A car sits ominously, headlights pointing directly towards us. Nancy and Jonathan both curse under their breath, and despite having no knowledge about what is taking place, even I can understand that this is clearly not a good sign. Even worse when the vehicle begins to drive slowly straight at us.

Unaware of my own actions and unable to stop myself, I’m rounding the car confidently. Standing right in the path of the oncoming vehicle, I raise the rifle, releasing the safety and pointing directly towards what I can assume is the driver’s seat. Struggling to see effectively against the bright beam of the headlights.

My move seems to threaten the driver, the car gaining speed and barrelling at us with no sign of stopping. Despite the fear that has overcome me since receiving Steve’s call, whilst standing in the path of immediate peril, I feel weirdly at ease. Unbothered by the potential risk of death that I am face to face with.

“What are you doing?” I hear Nancy scream, her voice sounds as though it is miles away when I know in reality she is almost right behind me, tucked away inside the automobile.

Steadying my breath, I squint my eyes in an attempt to better my aim, before releasing the trigger. Having no time to think about the consequences of my actions nor the moral implications of shooting at a living being that formerly plagued my mind, releasing bullet after bullet as the driver steps on the gas. Accelerating at such an extreme pace that I can only fire so much before having to accept my twisted fate.

With the car only mere feet away, I drop the gun, fearing that no matter how well I shoot, there is no winning this fight. Grabbing my head, in a weak attempt to protect myself, I drop to the ground, eyes closed tightly as I prepare to face the impact.

I’ve never been a religious person, but the only thoughts flying around my brain are prayers of protecting my family. Prayers of Dustin’s safety as he faces whatever is coming for him. Prayers that my passing is swift and painless. Prayers that this is all over quickly.

And yet, nothing comes.

Warily, I open my eyes, removing my hands from my cautiously, only to see none other than Steve Harrington, reeling from the impact of smashing his car straight into the one headed my way. His eyes find mine and my heart stops, the look of sheer relief on his face is indescribable.

Rising to my feet, Steve’s hurriedly climbing out of the vehicle and by my side in a second. Face bloodied and bruised, despite that, he’s solely focused on me, scanning over me intently, worriedly taking in all the minor wounds I obtained from shattering the rifle cabinet.

“What happened to your hand?” He’s asking breathlessly, my mind preoccupied with the knowledge that he just put himself in harm's way to save my life.

I can’t find the words to say anything as I take in the sight of his swollen eye and the stains of dried blood coating the lower half of his face. My mouth opens to speak and no words seem to slip out, mesmerized by Steve’s beauty in spite of his unsightly injuries.

Blaming the adrenaline, I find myself throwing my arms around the boy’s neck, pulling him into me and squeezing tightly. His hands settle on my hips, touch firm, fearing that if he were to let go that I would simply disappear. Absentmindedly, my fingers delicately thread through the strands of dark hair at the nape of his neck. Needing to be close to him.

“You just saved my life.”

My voice is no louder than a whisper, breath hot against his neck as I nuzzle myself closer to him. Feeling safe and secure in his embrace. Desperately needing the comfort right now, even if it is coming from the most unexpected of places.

“Uh guys! We should be getting out of here! Like now!” I hear Robin shout, releasing myself from Steve’s hold to see that not only has Jonathan managed to get their car started but also that Billy Hargrove is now stumbling out of his vehicle and has his sights set on us once again.

Neither of us need to say a word, abandoning my truck in the Starcourt parking lot and speeding away from the mall and ultimately the danger that lies in wait there.

***

The Battle of Starcourt resulted in the mall burning to the ground. Dustin and I reunited later that night at Steve’s house, the pair of them, alongside Robin, explained everything to me over a much needed pot of tea. El’s powers, demogorgons, Russian soldiers and the Mind Flayer. It was certainly a lot to take in and I could only apologize to my brother for not being there for him throughout all of this taking place. Wishing I could have helped him from the start.

It’s been a struggle adjusting to my daily life for the past couple of days. Dustin’s been staying at the Byers’ household, wanting the comfort of his friends and with a lack of parental presence in our home, the place feels cold. I can understand his decision completely, yet I can’t help but feel alone in such a big house.

I spend my nights awake, unable to sleep, and when I do manage to drift off, I’m plagued by nightmares of that car barreling towards me. My days aren’t any better. Alone with my thoughts at the roller rink, dreaming up all of the ways that the events of the night could have gone differently, most resulting in the deaths of either Dustin and I. And if I’m not at work, I lounge around my home, hopelessly trying to occupy my mind from the swirling images of Starcourt.

Steve and I haven't spoke since that night, more so my fault than his. I’d closed myself off again, become a recluse and struggled to leave the house with the exception of work. I believed that my mind had been playing tricks on me that night when I found myself enamored by his beauty. Or that it was simply the adrenaline and the intensity of the circumstances that I needed his embrace. However, the more I think about it, the more I believe that it was a decision of the heart rather than caused by the stress of the night.

Standing outside the Harrington household, I wonder if I am making a huge mistake. I hadn’t intended to come here, only leaving my house to take a brisk walk and yet here I find myself, fist raised in preparation to knock. Though making no effort to do so. In all honesty, I think I just need to talk to somebody about what transpired and Steve is the only person that I can willingly open up to.

“Y/N?” The boy’s voice startles me, he’s standing in the doorway dressed in plaid pajama pants and a loose black sweater. The wounds on his face are still prominent, though evidently more healed than the last time I had seen him.

“I’m sorry, I was going for a walk but I guess I just instinctively came here. My house is too quiet and I just really need to talk to somebody.” I confess, staring down at my bandaged hand so as to not make eye contact with Steve.

“You walked here?” He’s shocked by my admission, not that I’m surprised. Living on the other side of town, the walk to his house is easily an hour long, if not more.

“Well my truck kind of went down with the mall.” I laugh softly, though it sounds more forced than I intended.

“You should’ve called, I would’ve picked you up.” He tells me, voice gentle as he opens the door for me to enter his home, following me through to the lounge where we collapse onto the couch.

He has a small fire crackling away, the orange embers lighting up the room and subsequently offering a toastiness in comparison to the chilly night air.

“What’s going on? Are you?” There’s a tenderness to his voice, speaking to me the way you would speak to a timid animal so as not to frighten them. It’s sweet.

“Do you get nightmares from that night?” I ask shyly, not wanting him to view me as weak for struggling with the things that occurred.

Steve sighs, settling further into the couch as he takes his time figuring out how to say what he wants to get across. Part of him wanting to lie and pretend that everything is fine, the other part of him knowing that he should just be honest and recognize his feelings.

“Yeah.” Steve settles on the one word reply, deciding it may be the better option rather than confessing the truth as to what occurs in these nightmares.

“I haven’t been sleeping much, everytime I do, all I see is that car. Or Dustin’s lifeless body and it’s horrible. Waking up alone, hyperventilating, nobody there to tell me it’ll be okay. I don’t know how I can keep going like this.” I admit, daring to look at the boy and noticing the pained expression on his face.

“Can I be honest?” He whispers, words so quiet I almost don’t hear them. Nodding nervously, his eyes fall to his lap as he speaks. “Everytime I shut my eyes, I can only think about what would’ve happened had I not got to you in time.”

“But you did-”

“You would’ve died, you would’ve died and it would’ve been my fault because I was the one who asked you to come.” He’s crying as he talks, recounting that night and what could have been.

“Steve, you did save me. You’re the entire reason that I’m sitting here right here now. You’re a hero Steve Harrington.” I tell him, shuffling closer and taking his hands in mine. To which he brushes his fingers over my bandaged knuckles. “A very stupid, idiotic, reckless hero. But a hero nonetheless.”

“I would’ve never forgiven myself if I’d let you die. Fuck, I can’t even forgive myself for the way I treated you in school.” He states, gazing over my face and taking in the handful of miniscule cuts scattered across my cheeks from the shattering of the cabinet.

“Would it help if I told you that I forgive you?” I ask, soft smile settled upon my lips.

“Are you sure? I know I hurt you and I don’t want you to feel like you have to forgive me because of what happened and-”

“Steve, I forgive you.” I cut him off, squeezing his hands as I do so. “Not just because of what happened. I mean I’d probably be a shitty person if I didn’t forgive you when you deliberately put your own life at risk to save mine but, you’re a good person. I can see that now. You’re a really good person with a really good heart and in all honesty I think-”

My heart jumps to my throat as I realize what I’m about to confess. Questioning how I even got myself into this mess. If you told sixteen year old me that only two years later I would be sitting on the couch of my nemesis about to own up to the feelings that I may or may not have for him, she would’ve laughed in your face.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks softly, before I am able to finish what I’m saying, thankful that I no longer have to find the words.

“I’d really like that.”

The boy’s hand is gentle as he cups my cheek, apprehensively bringing his face to my own and brushing his lips lightly over mine. He’s cautious at first, testing out the waters to ensure that I am truly comfortable. Though, when I push myself closer, fisting his sweater in my hands, he exerts the passion that he had been holding black. Lips moving in sync with mine and bringing his free hand to caress my waist delicately. As the heat grows and any nerves wash away, he effortlessly slides his tongue into my mouth. Shy whimper escaping my mouth as he does so.

When he pulls away, I don’t miss the string of saliva that connects our lips to one another and can’t help but smile. Heart fluttering as Steve’s eyes focus on me adoringly.

“I guess all the rumors were right.” I tease as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, tilting his head slightly at my words. “You really are good at that, King Steve.”

“Oh ha ha.” He replies sarcastically, pulling me into his side and allowing me to rest my head on his chest. Listening intently to the steady beat of his heart.

“Can I stay here tonight? I can’t face another night alone.” I ask, tracing circles across his stomach, his hands stroking my hair lightly.

“I’d like that.”

Whilst I lay in the arms of Steve Harrington, I couldn’t help but feel as though things were starting to look up for me. Sure, it didn’t happen in the way that I was expecting or perhaps wanted. I certainly could have done without the monsters but right now, I finally felt at peace. Even if it was only for a little bit.

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington x female!reader #Steve Harrington x henderson!reader #robin buckley #dustin henderson #stranger things fic #stranger things au #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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onefleshonepod · 2 months ago

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On Barbie

I'd like to share my thoughts on John’s choice to house Alecto in a body that looks like Hollywood Hair Barbie.

To the best of my recollection over the past year, I've seen several people claim that Barbie being a famously unattainable beauty standard for women and arguably a sex symbol was irrelevant to John's decision to make Alecto a Barbie lookalike, and that rather the main impetus for this decision of John’s was his trauma, gender non-conformity, internalized homophobia, and desire to return to the comfort of childhood. This argument posits that John's decision had little or nothing to do with patriarchy, misogyny, objectification of women, or impossible beauty standards placed on women by men.

I empathize with the above position to a certain extent — it's absolutely crucial to remember and consider in our analyses that John is a queer working-class Indigenous man.

But………....................

John is not a real person. He is a character written to advance plot, themes, and political commentary within a carefully crafted story.

If I'm Tamsyn Muir writing John 1:20 in Nona the Ninth, and the point I want to make about my character is specifically and only that he is struggling with self-doubt, trauma, gender non-conformity, internalized homophobia, and yearning for the comfort of home and childhood — and I want to say nothing about patriarchy and misogyny?

I'm not having him make the soul of the earth into a Barbie!

I'd be having him model Alecto after a completely different popular 1990s toy for girls, like a Polly Pocket, or Betty Spaghetti, or a Raggedy Ann doll, or another doll that doesn't carry the same connotations as Barbie. Or, hell, I’d be having John make Alecto look exactly like his mum, or his nan, or female Māori mythological figures from stories he must have heard from his nan in childhood, like Papatūānuku, or the first woman, Hineahuone, who was made from earth.

I'm not smarter or more creative than Tamsyn, and the above ideas are just the alternatives I thought of in five minutes that would have specifically symbolized John's personal trauma and nothing else.

But Tamsyn didn't do that. Tamsyn picked Barbie specifically. I think that's worth taking into consideration.

Let’s examine exactly what John says in John 1:20.

Hollywood Hair Barbie's physical appearance comes first in the list of reasons why she was his favourite, and her other characteristics come last. He lists two physical traits and one non-physical trait of hers. “My favourite was her old Hollywood Hair Barbie,” he murmured. “I loved her little gold outfit and her long yellow hair. She was the best. She got to have all the adventures.”

He discards as an option a model of a woman who doesn't conform to patriarchal, Eurocentric beauty standards specifically because of her appearance: “There was also a Bride’s Dream Midge, but Mum had cut Midge’s hair into this weird mullet.”

He chooses a blonde Barbie body that he can mould into and mentally map onto glamourized versions of women created by men through the ages. “I made you look like a Christmas-tree fairy … I made you look like a Renaissance angel … I made you Adam and Eve … Galatea. Barbie. Frankenstein’s monster with long yellow hair.”

Our famous cultural images of Renaissance angels are all idealized depictions of women made by men — Raphael, Titian, Albrecht Dürer, etc. Frankenstein's monster, a man loathed and discarded by his creator, is a more nuanced comparison... but the only thing John notes is that his version has long yellow hair.

I'm not even getting into the whiteness (or the plastic-ness) of it all, but three of John's comparisons here are specifically coded as white women considered beautiful by Eurocentric standards in the Western cultural imagination (Christmas tree toppers, Renaissance angels, and Barbie), and the others are often depicted as white.

Galatea specifically is such a telling comparison. This myth is the story of a man caging and controlling his idealized, beautiful female creation, which exactly parallels John’s goals with Alecto: “From my blood and bone and vomit I conjured up a beautiful labyrinth to house you in. I was terrified you’d find some way to escape before I was done.”

Given all of this, I genuinely think that John's choice of Barbie as a model for Alecto was intended to position John as a symbol of patriarchy, misogyny, and objectification of women, through both a political and religious lens. Tamsyn is way, way too smart to have not made a careful, considered, intentional choice here.

John didn’t make Alecto into a Māori goddess from his nan’s stories. He didn't make her into a cheerful Raggedy Ann. He made her into a beautiful, blonde Hollywood hair Barbie.

#ours #john gaius #the locked tomb #tlt

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nebulaafterdark · 15 days ago

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Blood & Cheese (Pt. 2)

Summary: After the events of Blood and Cheese, Rhaenyra’s daughter returns to King’s Landing in hopes of speaking to her childhood companion.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader x Helaena Targaryen

18+ ONLY, MDNI Targcest, threesome, mentions of death

Part 1

It is an accident, truly, when Helaena stumbles through Y/N’s apartments to her bed chamber. She wishes only for her company, as she has grown accustomed to in the years since Jaehaerys’ death.

Instead she happens upon her dearest friend in the throes of passion, moving atop their husband as though her very life depends on it. Rocking against him time and time again, the muscles of her lower back taut with her movements as Aegon’s fingers paw over her restlessly.

“Fuck,” he curses as Y/N’s pleasured cries build to a crescendo. The pair of them reaching their peaks before the brunette collapses upon his chest, well and truly spent. Aegon strokes her dark hair, whispering the sweetest of nothings.

Helaena begins making her way out the door, but it is too late, she’s been caught.

“Helaena?”

“Where are you running off to, sweetling?”

The woman hesitates, toying with her marriage ring. “I could not find sleep, I thought I might speak with Y/N for a while.”

“Of course, dearest, let me dress.” Y/N smiles.

“I do not want you to dress.”

“You wish to join us?” Y/N breathes.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Helaena, of course we will have you.” The other woman stammers.

Aegon rolls off the side of the bed to stand before his first wife. “You have never been unwanted.”

“I needed you, often.” Helaena admits, “as the father of my children, you were not there.”

Tears prickle at the backs of Aegon’s eyes, “I did not know how to be there. The last thing I want to do is cause you anymore pain.”

Helaena nods, “I am left so often alone, there is pain in that too.”

“Then I will right it. I swear it.”

“I know how dearly you love her,” Helaena looks to Y/N. “It must have been easy to-”

“I do love Y/N. Fiercely and to my bones. I am sorry for it. You are my wife.”

“You never wanted me.”

Aegon explains, “how could I? Our mother made a mockery of me for loving Y/N since I was a boy. She told me how it was wrong to lust after my half sister’s child. Imagine the shame I felt when I was told I must marry you. My sister. I wanted you. And I did not want to want you.”

“You should have told me.”

“I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I am an idiot, you know this.”

Helaena smiles, “I do not think you are an idiot.”

“Forgive me.” Aegon whispers.

Helaena nods.

Aegon cups her face in his hands, “you are better than I deserve.” So he gave her the best of him, shared with her what he could not bear to. Shared Y/N with her in every sense but this one, now he will give that to his sweet sister too.

Y/N leans up on her knees, pressing them into the mattress as she watches Aegon press kisses to Helaena’s lips. The other woman’s hands weaving tentatively into his hair, allowing his greedy hands to slide her pale green nightgown and robe aside.

Her nipples hardening to rosy peaks atop her pale breasts, only her small clothes remain.

Aegon cups her sex through them, finding her damp beneath the thin fabric. He groans against her mouth. “Come toward the bed, my love.”

Helaena does so, eagerly. Toward the familiar brush of Y/N’s fingers through her silver tresses, pressing sweet kisses to her shoulders and neck.

Y/N and Aegon exchange a brief round of kisses, playfully arguing.

“I want to taste her first.”

“You’ve no idea what you’re doing, my dearest love.” Aegon grins, “allow me to please Helaena while you keep her company. Her breasts are so very needy, look at them, my heart; pleading for your affection.”

“I will wait my turn, dear husband.” Y/N sighs, turning to Helaena. “You are beautiful.”

“As are you.” Helaena chokes out, at the feeling of Aegon’s mouth on her.

Y/N brushes wayward hair from her face, “may I kiss you?” Helaena nods, all but dragging her down. Their lips meet, in a timid manner, exploring each other, then hungrier. Y/N palms Helaena’s full breasts as she keens, arching up toward her husband’s mouth. Y/N plucks at her nipples, rolling them between her thumb and forefinger.

Dipping her head to capture one in her mouth and flicking her tongue across it.

Helaena whimpers, “please.”

“Shh,” Y/N hushes her, “you’ll have everything you want, my love.”

“I want you.”

“You have me.” Y/N breathes.

She wanted more of her, to somehow consume her. All of her sorrow and her joy, to touch the sun without being burned. Helaena knows how this will end. Let me spare you.

Aegon hums against her, feeling Helaena tense with the beginnings of her peak.

Helaena’s mouth falls open, in a low moan.

Y/N traces her plush lips, “I adore you, you know.”

Helaena blinks at her, cresting her peak with their gazes locked.

“Good girl,” Y/N praises as Helaena begins to squirm under Aegon’s tongue. He coaxes her through her peak, only to begin working her up again, without reprieve.

“Aegon.” She reaches for him.

Y/N presses a kiss to her flushed cheek, “he’s greedy, isn’t he?”

At this Aegon swats Y/N’s bottom, reluctantly pulling his mouth away from sweet Helaena. “Greedy?”

“It’s my turn,” Y/N reminds him.

“Come, my heart.” Aegon chuckles, “it is indeed your turn.”

“When is it my turn?” Helaena wonders.

“Your turn to do what, darling?”

“To taste her.”

“Oh,” Y/N can feel the remnants of Aegon’s spend still seeping from her. “I must have a bath first.”

Helaena shakes her head, “why?”

“Helaena,” Aegon clears his throat, “I’ve just spilled inside her.”

Helaena lifts a shoulder, slinking down the mattress.

“Helaen-” Y/N’s protest is cut short by the first flick of Helaena’s tongue.

Aegon grins at her. “You are in trouble now, darling girl.”

Y/N reaches for him, beckoning him down for a kiss. The evidence of Helaena’s pleasure still on his lips. Panting into his mouth as the other woman explores her cunt, still sensitive from their love making. “You’re going to kill me.”

“What a way to go,” Aegon muses, not feeling sorry for her in the least. Coaxing her legs farther apart for Helaena.

“You should go to her,” Y/N jerks her chin toward the goddess between her thighs.

Aegon has not lied with Helaena in many moons. The distance between them has been a kindness. Has it not?

Aegon joins her, near the foot of the bed. Brushing silver hair from her face, tenderly. He has always been gentle, most of all to her. When he couldn’t be gentle, he wouldn’t touch her.

Helaena turns to him, with wide eyes. “Show me what you like.” The primalness of his urges he could so rarely contain with Y/N. While he was always so careful with her; Helaena wanted passion. To be desired by her husband.

The dragon has three heads…

————————————————————————

The tiny swell of Helaena’s belly does not come as a shock to her. Part of her always knew, try as she may to avoid it, that she would birth three children. The dragon has three heads.

Y/N is quite fond of the little intruder. Aegon is wary, afraid to get attached after Jaehaerys.

“Is there a name you have in mind, my dearest love?” Y/N asks, peppering sweet kisses to Helaena’s bump.

Helaena shakes her head. She knows what his name is…what it ought to be. She saw it in her mind’s eye. Maelor.

“Are you nervous?” Y/N wonders. “Because of what happened to Jaehaerys?”

“This child will die.” Helaena laments, “only your children with Aegon survive the war. Aegon will burn, by Aemond’s hand and he will be slain by Daemon. Swallowed up in the Gods eye, never to be found. Your brothers, Jace and Joffrey will die, one in the gullet and one by-”

Y/N clears her throat. “Mayhaps these dreams are not meant to make you their prisoner. What if you dream so that we might change the outcome?”

“You cannot change it, I have tried.”

“So long as we live, we have hope. We must have hope.”

“His name is Maelor.” Helaena tells her, “in my dreams.”

“Then let us give him a new name.” Y/N cups her face in her hand.

Helaena nods, though not entirely convinced.

————————————————————————

It is only when they are alone together that Y/N raises the matter with her husband.

“You know what I must do.” Travel to her mother on Dragonstone and create new terms.

“I’ve said no.”

“Aegon-”

“I am the king, you will obey me!”

“Listen to me, my love.” Y/N implores him, “understand what is truly at stake… our unborn child.”

Aegon shakes his head.

“Jaehaera.”

“Stop it.” He sneers.

“Helaena knew about the rat catchers, she knew what would happen to Jaehaerys. Please, Aegon, I love them as my own. Allow me to spare them.”

Aegon grips her face tightly in his hands, same as he did in those terrible hours following the death of his son. “If I did not love you so dearly, I would have you killed for speaking this treachery.”

“Kill me then and be done with it.” Y/N spits back. “I will never stop trying to protect our family. I would rather be dead.”

He is kissing her then, harshly and without kindness. He hates loving her. “You are forbidden to leave me. You will stay here, where you are safe whether you wish it or not.”

“Please, Aegon.” She cries against his lips. “You have to believe me.”

“I do not have to do anything, my dearest love.” He murmurs, “try as you may, you will not sway me. Not with your words, not with your tears, they mean little to me in the face of protecting what is mine.”

Y/N shoves him away, breathing heavily as they stare at one another. “This is not who you are.”

“This is who I have to be.”

“Aegon,” she rubs at the ache in her heart, watching tears well up in his eyes to match her own.

“It has been some five years since you arrived here. What makes you believe that your mother would not strike you down?”

“Is protecting Helaena and our child not worth the risk?”

“Do not use her name to levy for your own agenda.”

“Only to make you see reason, my heart. I know how dearly you love her, you needn’t be ashamed, with me of all people.”

“I love you.” Aegon falters, “I promised she would never be forced to bear another child. And to have another son, snatched so cruelly from our grasp.” He hangs his head, “my poor, sweet, Helaena. My dreamer girl, I did not mean for this to happen.”

Y/N sighs, “the gods forsake us, for good reason. I cannot say why they forsake her.”

“I need to see her.” Aegon heaves in a breath.

“Come.” Y/N takes his hand.

“She does not wish to see me.”

“Helaena told you this?”

Aegon huffs. “I could not comfort her after Jaehaerys, I did not know how. I left her alone.”

“Go to her now, do what you could not then.”

Aegon finds himself in Helaena’s rooms before he can stop it, falling to his knees at her feet and begging for her forgiveness.

“Aegon,” Helaena stammers, patting at his head in bewilderment.

It is different with Y/N, she is rough around the edges, in the same way as him. They understand each other. Helaena is different, to be protected and adored from a safe distance. Never to touch with his horrid hands. Still time and time again he reaches for her and she does not push him away.

Y/N leaves them to it, closing the chamber doors gently behind her and slinking into the hall, largely undetected.

“Queen Mother?” Their eldest daughter’s sweet voice calls.

Y/N turns to Jaehaera with a smile, despite her clenched fists. “What is it, darling girl?”

“Won’t you come have tea with me after my lessons?” The girl asks, “mayhaps mother and father will accompany you?”

“I was just heading out for a ride, but after, of course. If they are feeling up to it.”

“You will come still, for certain?”

Y/N nods, “yes, dove. I will.”

Jaehaera nods, bounding off down the hallway with her maids.

————————————————————————

Upon seeing Rhaenyra in the flesh, Y/N is unsure what terms she even has to offer her. Crudely blurting out the first thing to cross her mind.

“I will leave with Aegon, Helaena and our children, never to be seen again. The throne is yours.”

“Is that what you think I wish for?” Rhaenyra breathes, “never to see you?”

“I do not know what you wish, mother. As much though I hope to. State your terms and I will make it so.”

Rhaenyra holds a hand to her heart at the sight of her daughter in such distress, “what has he done to you?”

“Aegon?” Y/N scoffs, “he has done nothing to me.”

“Nothing but hold you against your will, all these years.”

“I love him.” Y/N reminds her, “you think in all these years I could not have escaped?”

“I do not know what you could have done. I know little of your life as of late.”

“I wish to change that.” Y/N lowers her gaze, “tell me what I must do and I will do it.”

“I want Aemond Targaryen, for the murder of your brother.”

“Your graces,” one of the guards barges in. “I apologize for the intrusion, but this news is much urgent.”

Rhaenyra squares her shoulders, “what is it?”

“Two dragons now circle Dragonstone. We believe them to be Vhagar and Sunfyre.”

“No,” Y/N sets off in search of her own dragon.

“Where are you going?” Rhaenyra demands.

“He’s going to burn him, Helaena warned me.” Y/N babbles nonsense, all but dragging her mother down the hall by Rhaenyra’s grip on her wrist.

“Tell me how I can help you.” Rhaenyra whispers.

“Call for Daemon, have him take to Caraxes so we might lure Vhagar to the Gods eye.”

“Why the Gods Eye?” Rhaenyra wonders.

“That is where he dies.”

“Aemond?”

Y/N hesitates, “yes.”

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