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morgana-larkin · 10 months ago

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Haii okay here’s my angst request! I love a good regretful jealous Mel hehehe. I was thinking you’re both teachers and she likes u but is like “I’m too cool for pining” so she does the extreme opposite and is kinda standoff-ish or blunt w u at school. When you’re alone she’s a little better but still not super lovey dovey. You “take the hint” and move on, and someone new comes into ur life (can you PLEASE for the LOVE OF GOD name this rando new person joy??). And then one day Mel’s like “let’s be official” And you’re like what? Why? I thought u didn’t like me also I have Joy now. And then Mel’s like wtf and she gets rlly jealous when she sees u w her now and then she tries to sabotage y’all’s blooming relationship. In the end maybe no happy ending pls?? If ur comfortable writing that :)

Hehe I LOVE a good heartbreak. Also I’m obsessed w joy Huerta (hence my username) and have been asking everyone to use it in fics AND PPL DONT ALFJKS. lmao anyways. I hope this is sumn ur comfortable writing!

OMG! you’re really testing me here! If I’m honest, it was hard to write. I rewrote it a few times, it hurt a little, might make a part 2. Honestly if even one person requests a part 2 with a happy ending then I will write one. As always, not edited in the slightest, I hope you like it!

On another note: keep sending prompts for one shots! I decided to write one shots about Chessy from parent trap played by our favourite redhead, Lisa Ann Walter, so you can send prompts for her too!

Part 2

Green Isn’t Your Colour

Warnings: (where do I start lol) Jealous Mel, upset Mel, a bit of toxic Mel, angst and no comfort, no happy ending , good luck lol

Words: 3.2k

You walk in through the entrance of Abbott Elementary. You’ve been here for a year already and you’re finally feeling like you’re settling in. You’re a third grade teacher, you helped Melissa out as she wouldn’t have another split class again and that made her happy from the day you got there and hearing the news.

You walk into the break room, hot chocolate in hand, you don’t like coffee that much, but nothing could beat a good hot chocolate. You go and sit on an empty table, taking some tests out and start marking them. Melissa looks over at you from her table. She looks at the way you’re flawlessly marking, glasses on and concentrating on what you’re doing.

You glance up as you feel like you’re being watched and see Melissa looking at you, but then she quickly looks away when you notice and you smile. You liked her since you first set eyes on her and it only grew from there. But lately it seems like she’s off and you’re unsure why. She was nice to you when you started but now it’s like she’s the opposite and you don’t know why. You asked everyone else if they could answer why she’s different but no one noticed the change.

You got up and picked up the tests and decided to just carry them to your classroom. You passed by Melissa on the way out. “See you later Melissa.” You told her with a smile. She just nodded her head at you and went back to her phone. You looked at Barb and she just shrugged, not noticing a difference.

During your second period prep you finished marking the tests with a breath of relief. Just then Melissa knocks on your door and you look at her and smile. “Hey Melissa.” You tell her and she just has a neutral face and you drop your smile.

“I found the book you were asking for. The little eagles liked it last year and I’m sure they’ll like it again.” She said and handed you the book.

“Oh perfect, thank you.” You told her and smiled at the book. Melissa looked at you and couldn’t help the small smile forming at your excitement of the book. And you looked up at her to see the small smile on her face. “Hey Melissa, can I ask you something?” You asked and she looked at you confused.

“You can but it doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” Melissa said.

“Um ok. Well I was just wondering why you’re acting differently around me?” You ask and she looks at you with a neutral face again.

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“Well you were nice to me last year but now you’re acting distant and I don’t know why.” You asked her. “Did I do something wrong?” You added and that took her by surprise. She doesn’t want you to think you did anything wrong because you didn’t. Melissa has a crush on you and she doesn’t want to show it or let anyone know, and her acting nicely to you last year definitely raised suspicions, so she went back to how she acts with everyone else.

“You didn’t do anything kid. This is just how I am with people.” She said.

“You’re not like that with Barb.” You said.

“Barb is my best friend, so of course I’m nice to her.”

“What about Janine? Jacob? Gregory? Or when Ava at times? You’re nice to them.” You told her, getting a little frustrated.

“That’s because they’re my friends.” She said and you were taken back by that and it definitely stung. Melissa looks at your expression and knew she shouldn’t have said that. She does think of you as a friend but it just slipped out.

“Oh ok, well glad to know where we stand then, just co workers. Thank you for the book Ms. Schemmenti, I’ll return it tomorrow.” You tell her and go back to your desk. “If that was all then if you don’t mind, I have a lesson plan to do.” You told her and she nodded her head.

“See ya around kid.” She said and left. She knew she fucked up there. She’ll have to start being a bit nicer to you to get back in your good graces.

Back in your classroom you took a big breath. You thought you and Melissa were friends but I guess you were wrong. No wonder she’s always short and blunt with you.

The next day you were at the coffee shop, receiving your hot chocolate like always, turning around to leave and bumped into someone, spilling your hot chocolate all over them and a bit on yourself.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I just wanted to talk to you and didn’t expect you to turn around.” The person said.

“Oh well I feel like I should be apologising, my hot chocolate mostly went on you. Wait, you wanted to talk to me? Why?”

“Because I see you in here everyday and I think you’re pretty.” She said with a blush and you blushed at her compliment.

“Oh uh th-thank you.” You stuttered a bit, not used to compliments.

“Can I buy you another hot chocolate? As an apology?” She said and you looked at her.

“Oh you don’t have too.”

“I want to though. Please, I insist.” She said and you smiled at her. She bought you another hot chocolate and handed it to you with a smile. “And there we go.” She said.

“Thank you.” You told her and saw the time. “Oh I gotta get to work.” You told her.

“Oh that’s alright I understand. I’ll see you again tomorrow?” She asked.

“Ya, I come here, same time every day.” You said with a smile and began to leave but turned around to her. “I never got your name btw.”

“It’s Joy.” She told you.

“I’m y/n.” You tell her and she smiles.

“You have a lovely name, it suits you.” She tells you. You blush and leave the coffee shop. You get to the school and immediately go to your classroom instead of the break room. You put your stuff done and see the book that Melissa gave you yesterday sitting on your desk. You might as well return it now, you got a few minutes before the students get here. You picked up the book and walked to the classroom next to yours and knocked on the open door. Melissa was stapling something and looked up at you and gave you a little smile.

Your heart fluttered a little at the smile and you remembered what she said yesterday. “Hi Ms Schemmenti, I came to return the book.” You told her, and held the book up.

She looked at you and remembered what happened yesterday and sighed. “Thanks y/n” she said and got up and walked over to you to take the book. “Did the little eagles like it?” She asked.

“Ya they did.” You said confused at her using your actual name

“I knew they would. You can borrow it whenever you want.” She told you and you offered her a small smile and nodded your head.

“Thanks Ms Schemmenti, I’ll keep that in mind.” You told her and left. She stared at you as you walked back to your own classroom and did a huge sigh and leaned back against her door.

A month goes by and you run into Joy everyday at the coffee shop. She took it upon herself to order you a hot chocolate and have it ready by the time you get there. You kept offering her the money for it but she always refuses, saying your company was payment enough. You exchanged numbers after a couple days and started texting for hours on end. By the second week she asked you out on a date and you said yes. By the third week she asked you to be her girlfriend to which you agreed excitedly.

At school, you noticed that Melissa has been a bit friendlier with you. You took her sudden change with caution though, you don’t want to get hurt again.

For Melissa, she wants to ask you out but she keeps getting scared. But after a month of being friendly with you, she decides to bite the bullet and just do it. She went to go see you at your classroom after the students left on Monday.

“Hey y/n, can I ask you something?” She asked you as she stepped in your classroom.

“Sure Melissa, what’s up?” You said and she smiled. You’ve been calling her by her first name again for about a week, and after you calling her Ms Schemmenti for 3 weeks, well she still smiles when you call her Melissa now.

“I wanted to ask you on a date.” She says and you look at her and freeze.

“What?” You ask, confused as hell.

“I wanted to officially ask you on a date.” She says and you look at her confused.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“I thought you didn’t like me.” You tell her and she looks a bit guilty.

“I never not liked you, when I realised I liked you near the end of the last year, I didn’t want to give away my feelings so I started acting distant towards you.” She says and looks down for a second then back up at you. “So will you go on a date with me?” She asks again.

“No.” You told her and she looked upset. “I did like you but I have a girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? I thought you were single.” She says confused and still hurt.

“I was, until 2 weeks ago, her name is Joy.” You said with a smile. And Melissa looks at you with a bit of fire in her eyes. “If she’s real then I would like to meet her.” She tells you, crossing her arms,

“Oh ok, ya sure. I can ask if she can come meet everyone tomorrow morning if you want.” You tell her.

“Ok, I look forward to meeting her then.” Melissa says and leaves disappointed.

You asked Joy if she wanted to meet your coworkers tomorrow morning and she excitedly agreed immediately.

So the next morning, you meet Joy at the coffee shop as usual and she hands you your hot chocolate then you drive over to the school and walk in with her. You head to the break room with her and enter and all eyes look up at you and her.

“Everyone, I would like you to meet Joy, my girlfriend. Joy, this is Janine, Jacob, Gregory, Barb, Ava.” You said, pointing to everyone as you said their name. “And this is Melissa, the one who asked to meet you.”

“Hi everyone! And hi Melissa, I’m very much real as you can see.” Joy says and Melissa doesn’t look happy, she crosses her arms and the fire in her eyes come back. She thought you were lying and would have to keep being nicer to you before you agree to go on a date with her. Barb notices Melissa getting angry and puts a hand on her arm and that startles her and then just sits there, staring at you. She sees you being all happy as Jacob and Janine got up to come say hi to your girlfriend.

She wanted to be that person, be your girlfriend and she blew it. But then remembered that you said yesterday that you did have feelings for her, so maybe you still do. Then she smiles at that thought and thinks of different ways to play it. Joy would have to go of course, she ain’t gonna put a hit on her but instead she’ll try to sabotage it, and to do that, she’ll have to be nice first and get information.

So she gets up and goes over to you two. “Hi, nice to meet you. Ya I didn’t think you were real when y/n here as been single since I’ve known her.” She says to your girlfriend then proceeds to put an arm around your back as she mentions you being single and your eyes widen a bit.

“Oh that’s alright, it was a shock to y/n too when I asked her.” Joy says, and Melissa thinks it’s a shame she’ll have to sabotage it as she seems nice. But this person is getting in the way of her happiness so she gots to go.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you two meet?” Melissa asks.

“Oh we met at the coffee shop down the street, the one you told me about and I get a hot chocolate there every morning. And then I bumped into Joy about a month ago, like physically bumped into her and spilled my drink all over her.” You say with a chuckle.

“Ya she did but it was my fault, I saw her there every morning and after a couple weeks I decided to go talk to her and didn’t expect her to turn around at that very moment. So I offered to get her a replacement one and then we started talking.” Joy said with a smile.

And you noticed how Melissa’s hand got a bit lower on your back and you subtly get out of her grip and say an excuse. “Joy, do you want to go see my classroom?” You ask her and she immediately said yes. Joy waves bye to everyone and they all tell her it was nice to meet her and hope to see her again. And Melissa thinks that if it goes according to plan then she won’t be back to see them again.

At the end of the day, Melissa visits your classroom. “Hey y/n.” She says as you’re packing your things up.

“Oh hey Melissa. What’s up?” You ask her and sling your bag over your shoulders.

“Well I was wondering if I could go with you to the coffee shop tomorrow? I haven’t been there in awhile and wouldn’t mind a good store bought coffee once in awhile instead of one from the break room.” She says and you look at her confused.

“Oh I always meet Joy at the coffee shop in the morning.” You say and Melissa smiles, she knew it.

“Well that’s alright, maybe I could get to know her better then.” She says and you agree and tell her the time that you meet up with Joy.

The next morning, Melissa gets to the coffee shop first and orders a coffee for her and a hot chocolate for you. You and Joy come in a couple minutes later and see Melissa near a table with 2 drinks. “Hey Melissa.” You say and she looks over at you and smiles.

“Hey y/n and Joy. Here y/n, I got you a hot chocolate.” She says and sees the frown on Joy’s face before smiling again. Melissa smiles at that, she knew that Joy was still getting you a hot chocolate every morning. You said it yesterday to Janine and Jacob. “I would have gotten something for you but I forgot to ask y/n here what you like.” Melissa says and puts a hand on your shoulder.

Joy looks at the interaction and gives a confused look. “That’s alright, I’ll just go get a drink for myself. I’ll be right back.” She says and you and Melissa nod.

You look at Melissa a little confused. “Why are you being so much nicer all of a sudden?” You say to her and she just shrugs, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know what you mean y/n? I’m just getting to know your little girlfriend over there.” She says and hits you, Melissa is jealous.

“Melissa, are you jealous?” You asked and she scoffs. “I’m being serious, yesterday you asked me out saying you liked me. And now you’re at the coffee shop that I meet Joy at every morning and meeting nicer to me in front of her.”

“I’m just trying to make sure that she’s right for you, is all.” Trying to cover up the fact that you were right.

Before either of you can say anything else, Joy comes back with her drink. “Hey y/n, I would like to stay longer but worked called and asked if I could come in earlier. Like right now earlier. And I wouldn’t mind the extra cash.” She says and you nod.

“That’s alright, I understand, have a good day at work.” You tell her and she gives you a goodbye kiss on the lips and the fire in Melissa’s eyes return.

“Alright thanks for understanding, it was nice seeing you again Melissa.”

“Ya you too.” Melissa says back to her. Melissa didn’t like that kiss, and worse is that the only issue she has with Joy is that she’s with you. Other than that, Joy seems like a nice person, and she hates that fact.

At the end of the day Melissa stops by your classroom again. “Hey y/n.”

“Should I expect this to be a daily occurrence? You stopping by my classroom at the end of the day?” You say with a laugh and she gives a small laugh at that.

“Maybe.” She says and closes your door and walks up to you. You look at her confused for closing the door, but then think she probably wants to talk to you privately. “I don’t like her. Your girlfriend.” She says and you frown.

“Why?”

“I don't know, there’s just something about her that I don’t like.”

“Well you’ve only just met her. If you see her more then you might grow to like her.” You tell her with a smile.

“No I won’t actually.” She says and you’re confused.

“And how do you know you won’t?”

She looks you dead in the eyes and walks closer to you. “Because as long as she’s with you, then I won’t like her.” She says and she got very close to you and you had to walk back and you end up backing into your desk and she puts her hands on the desk on both sides of you, effectively trapping you. You look at her with wide eyes.

“Melissa, I-” and you don’t get to say what you were about to as her lips are on yours. You begin to kiss her back and then push her off. “Melissa what the fuck? You know I’m with Joy.” You tell her and she smirks.

“Then why did you kiss me back? And don’t deny it. I know you did before you pushed me off.” And you look at her speechless since she’s right. Melissa smiles at you and goes to kiss you again but you stop her.

“No Melissa, I’m with Joy now.” You tell her and she frowns.

“You wouldn’t rather be with me?” She asks and you shake your head.

“I’m happy with who I’m with. I’m sorry.” You tell her and walk out of your classroom, leaving behind a hurt Melissa who has a tear rolling down her cheek.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

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If you want to be added then let me know!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic

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thebestofoneshots · 2 years ago

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Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode (backstory)

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.7 K Warnings: none Prompt: Of the unopened letters and your first day at Hogwarts. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Rainy days and Mondays

July 10th, 1974

Dear Sirius,

My mom gave me your address. She feels really bad about the whole situation, but that does not justify her actions. She and Dad were awful by keeping their mouths shut, awful, and I’m terribly sorry about it. If only they’d said something, maybe then they would’ve changed the outcome of the situation.

I tried asking her to write a letter to your parents, with the truth behind the trip, you know, that it was MY IDEA, but she refused to do it. I’m sorry I can’t do anything to help you avoid the wrath of your parents. Our families are a bunch of cowards.

Thanks for the necklace, It’s beautiful. I put it on when I got home, it’s got a strange weight to it, but I like it, it reminds me of you. I’m writing a copy of the instructions of you know what on a letter and I’ll send it to you once we’re back in school. I’m really upset our trip was cut short. It would’ve been nice to stay in the moment a bit longer. Anyway, I really wish you’re well. Hope to hear from you soon.

Love,

(Y/N)

July 15th, 1974

Dear Sirius,

I hope my letter finds you alright. I’m writing again since perhaps my last letter got lost in flight, my owl Reese can be very clumsy sometimes.

I just wanted to apologize for everything that happened. I’m sorry for having the idea to go to Xplore (not for what happened inside the park, but yes what happened after), I’m sorry your parents found out, and I’m sorry we trusted Regulus to have our backs. I’m sorry my parents were cowards and didn’t back me up when I said the truth. And I’m really sorry for whatever your parents do to you.

It was really fun spending our break together. I get the chances of it ever happening again are zero, but it’s nice thinking we got to meet.

Also, I wanted to thank you for the necklace. I've been wearing it every day since I returned home, I really enjoy having it around my neck, it reminds me of our adventure.

Hope to hear back from you soon,

(Y/N)

July 25th, 1974

Dear Sirius Black,

I’d like to be able to assume my letter was lost in the mail again, but since the lack of response from the previous two, I can only imagine you have decided to ignore my letters.

Which, to be honest, I don’t understand. YOU were the one that decided to take the blame for yourself. If you HAD backed me up, and told your parents it had been me, then you wouldn’t have gotten in so much trouble.

Last night I received a letter from Regulus, I did not care to read it and threw it straight to the fire. I do not want to hear his apologies, mom told me it was him that spilled the soup. Traitor, like you’d call Slytherins in the past. I guess once a snake, always a snake.

I don’t want to sound like I’m begging, but please talk to me, if anything just tell me you’re alright. I just want to know you’re ok.

(Y/N)

August 3rd, 1974

Sirius,

This is the last letter I write. I’m sorry for bothering you with my insistence, I will not write any more letters. I’m sorry we met, and I’m sorry I caused you so much pain that you decided to completely cut me out of your life, or whatever, I don’t even know what happened.

I really thought we could stay friends, even after everything that happened. But I guess we can’t always get what we hope for. Either way, a promise is a promise, and I will send you the instructions for you know what once we’re back in school. I don’t want your parents to accidentally find them by opening your mail.

I really hope you’re alright.

Goodbye Sirius,

(Y/N)

After writing that letter you cried like a baby and considered burning it instead of sending it several times. But you knew writing more letters was useless –and that it would be worse if you went on without any closure– still waiting for an answer from him that you would never receive. So you tied the letter to Reese and sent him off. Once the school year started, and after you made a copy for yourself, you bent the old piece of parchment and put it inside an envelope alongside a note.

August 14th, 1974

Sirius Black Dear James Potter,

This is something I promised to give Sirius. He is currently very angry at me and will ignore all my attempts to contact him. But this contains something that will be very useful for him, I know he really wanted it. So I appeal to you instead, his best friend, to knock some sense into him.

Please receive this letter and give him the parchment. He’ll recognize it. If you must, lie to him, tell him you found it in a restricted area of the school library or whatever (Hogwarts has one of those too, right?).

Yours truly,

Someone who disappointed your best friend. -and was disappointed by him too.

You closed the envelope, waving your wand with a small spell to make sure it was properly sealed and wrote in thick black ink:

TO: James Potter

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

2 years later

September 1976

You walked to Kings Cross with your cart in between your hands. Your dad had left you just outside the station. The idea of moving to a new country had been fascinating in theory, but once you arrived there, alone and with no one to talk to, you’d felt incredibly lonely.

Your mom told you about your dad getting the position in the British ministry on your last day of school, you didn’t even have enough time to say goodbye to all of your friends before going back home to find all your stuff had already been neatly packed in boxes.

Just two days after that you were in London, lonely as ever. You spend your entire break exploring the muggle part of the city. The muggle museums were pretty interesting, but you felt alone non the less. You kept in touch with your friends through owl mail but it wasn’t the same as being able to actually hang out with someone.

In the middle of the summer break, your mom took you to Diagon Alley, and nothing made you feel more isolated than Hogwarts students hugging their peers as they saw each other for the first time in a while. The only thing that somewhat cheered you up was the stunning Dark Nimbus your dad had bought as an apology for making the move so sudden. They did care about you, a lot, they just had different priorities than yours.

As you walked through the large corridors of the station you spotted a couple of younger kids walking beside their mother, while carrying trunks similar to your own, one of them had a huge cage with an owl in it, which was a dead giveaway that they were actually wizards, even in their attempts at a muggle outfits.

You discreetly followed behind them and saw them walk in right through a wall in between platforms nine and ten. You imitated them shortly after and found yourself in a very wizarding-looking space. A huge scarlet train with the words “Hogwarts Express” painted gold on its side pumped smoke through its chimney. As you stared at it, someone bumped against you from behind and pushed you forward a bit.

“I’m sorry,” He said, turning towards you apologetically “I didn’t see you there.”

You looked at the boy, he was tall and lean and had a fair share of scars all over his body. Made you think of a pirate from those spicy romance novels your mom had on her bookshelves.

“No problem,” You answered honestly.

He then gave you a strange look, he was wondering whether he’d seen you before and was about to ask you about it when a girl called for him from the far distance “Remus! We’ve got to go, we gotta care for the first years!”.

“Coming!” He shouted back at her and turned to look at you one last time before giving you an apologetic smile and leaving.

You stared at him for a minute, Remus, the girl said. The name was oddly familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint why. Perhaps it was the name of a book character you read a while ago or something.

Then you continued to push your bags to the baggage administration system, keeping with you only a small trunk with your uniform.

As you walked inside the train you realised most of the carts were full, and sighted when you realised how awkward it would be to invade some already-made friend group by showing up uninvited, even if the curiosity of meeting the new kid was in your favour.

You decided to open one of the doors where you’d seen kids that looked about your age walk in earlier but regretted it the moment the door was fully opened.

Most of them had given you scornful looks. Especially an unhinged-looking boy, but that wasn’t even the worst part. Right there, in the middle of all of them was Regulus Black. The traitor, Regulus Black.

He stood up the moment he saw you, letting some candy fall from his lap as he stared at you in disbelief. “What are you…? How–“

You took a deep breath and decided the world had been a better place when you didn’t even remember his existence. So you simply closed the door and left to find a different place.

As you continued walking through the train you saw many groups of people hanging out in the different sections of it. Laughing students that talked to their friends, a small little brunette girl, who must have been a first year since she was crying about missing his parents while another girl, that looked just like her but older, comforted her. There was no one else in their cart so you gently knocked on the door.

The two girls turned towards you and the smallest quickly wiped the tears from her face. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” you said as you closed the door behind you “I’m trying to disappear before someone I really don’t want to see finds me.” You sat down in front of them “I cried too when my parents first put me on a carriage to school.”

“I wasn’t crying,” the little girl said defensively.

“A carriage?” Asked the older girl, clearly curious now that she started paying attention to you “You weren’t at Hogwarts,” she said as she took your appearance in.

You denied with your head “I’m a transfer student, this will be my first year here,” you said and then turned to the smaller girl “like yours.”

“Does that mean she doesn’t have a house?” The smallest girl asked as she looked up at her sister “But she’s old.”

“Old?” You asked, diverted.

The little girl covered her mouth “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s all right, I was just teasing. But I’m not that old either. Only 16.”

“Oh, like Marlene,” she said pointing at her sister “maybe your guys will end up taking classes together.”

“Year 6?” Marlene asked you.

You nodded and held your hand towards her “ (Y/N)(Y/LN).”

“Marlene McKinnon,” she said while shaking your hands, she was strong and had slightly rough palms, which indicated she flew a lot “And this rude little girl is my baby sis, Margo.”

“Nice to meet you.” You said with a smile.

“I’m not rude,” mumbled Margo as she crossed her arms and started munching on some candy Marlene had handed over to her.

“You fly a lot?” You asked, when she looked puzzled you showed her your palms “I felt the broom marks when we shook hands, I have them too.”

She smiled and nodded, “I’m on my house’s quidditch team, I’m the best beater they have,” she said with a smile and then whispered, “Just don’t let the other guy know.”

At that, the two of you laughed, at that moment you figured perhaps life at Hogwarts wouldn’t be so bad, as long as you got to meet more people like Marlene. You talked about quidditch for most of the trip back, she told you about the new broom her parents had bought her last year and you told her about your new Dark Nimbus, which she made you promise you’ll let her take a ride on. Margo seemed rather bored with your conversation and grabbed a book from her backpack, something about care for magical creatures.

Once the train was close to the destination a tall brunette boy knocked on your doors “Are you (Y/N)(Y/LN)?” You nodded to answer and he smiled “Great! My name is Alexander Wood, Head Boy in Hufflepuff, I was asked by Professor McGonagall to escort you to Dumbledore’s office as soon as the train arrived.”

“Oh, all right,” you said as you stood up and grabbed your small trunk, “Hope to see you around,” you said to Marlene with a quick wave before following behind Alexander.

“You can call me Alex,” he said as he continued walking towards the doors “Professor McGonagall said it was immensely important you arrived before everyone else, apparently they want to get you sorted before the feast,” he explained.

“Sorted?” You asked confused.

“Into your Hogwarts house,” he explained “There’s four of them, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor-“

“-and Slytherin.” You concluded.

“Yes! Exactly!” he said without noticing the bitter tone which you had used to say the latter “you’ve done your research.”

“More like I met someone once,” you said as you continued to follow him. “There’s a sorting cap, right?”

“Sorting hat,” he corrected. “Don’t dare call him a cap, or he’ll be offended.”

“The hat?! He’s sentient…”

“Very much so,” he said with a nod “and very touchy too.”

“How do you know in which house he’ll sort you?”

“You don’t,” he said as the two of you stood next to the doors “Sometimes you get sorted the same way as your parents, kind of like a family line sort of thing, other times, like in my case, your family gets sorted into all different kinds of houses, my mom’s a Gryffindor, dad’s a Ravenclaw and my sister was a Slytherin. But then again, your parents didn’t attend Hogwarts, did they?”

You responded by shaking your head “Mom studied in Ilvermorny, Dad in Beauxbatons.”

He nodded, and then the train came to a halt, you grabbed the railing to stop yourself from crashing against him and then the door opened swiftly right in front of you. He quickly got down and motioned for you to follow. On the train, everyone else was starting to grab their things to prepare to get off. You followed behind him towards a couple of carriages without any horses.

You got in and then started to move towards the castle at a relatively fast pace. "Do you normally take new students to the director's office?" You asked Alex.

He shook his head "We don’t get many new students unless they’re first years, and their sorting is public."

"Why won’t mine be?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"Haven’t a clue," he said honestly and pulled a transparent bag from his robe "You want some?" He asked as he offered the bag to you.

"Are those Fizzing Whizbees?" You asked as you grabbed one of them, he nodded "They’re my favourites!"

"Mine too!" He said with a smile before popping one into his mouth.

Soon enough the two of you were already entering the huge castle. As you looked around he drove you towards the famous moving staircases. You had heard of them in some of your history classes, but you never expected you’d see them in person, they were as magnificent as the books described.

"Come on, they won’t wait for you to stop admiring them before they change," he said motioning for you to follow, "you’ll have plenty of time to look at them later on."

You nodded and followed right behind him. Soon enough you were just outside of an office, a giant golden eagle stood there. A very elegant-looking lady in a green gown walked from the hall towards you "Thank you very much, Alex, for bringing (Y/N) here, I’ll take it from here, you should go to the banquet, help the first years that get sorted into your house." Alex nodded and left, then the lady turned towards you "My name is Minerva McGonagall," you said, you were surprised, up until then you had thought the professor McGonagall they kept referring to was a man. "Follow me please."

You nodded and followed her, as she stood right in front of the eagle it started twirling and unveiling a set of stairs. The two of you walked up the staircase and you found yourselves in front of a large office, filled with magical gadgets, and astronomy tools. An old wizard with a very large white beard stood in the centre "This must be (Y/N)," he said.

"Nice to meet you, sir," you said to the old man.

He smiled kindly "My name is Albus Dumbledore, you may call me Professor Dumbledore, I am the director of Hogwarts." You nodded in response "We brought you here to sort you, after talking about it we decided it would be a lot easier to sort you here instead of the banquet hall, we thought you could perhaps feel uncomfortable being the only 16-year-old student being sorted along the first years."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," you responded.

"And we also wanted you to have enough time to get your uniforms ready before walking to your classes tomorrow." Then he motioned for you to sit on a chair in the middle of the room. Professor McGonagall picked a hat from a pillow and placed it over your head.

"Interesting…" you heard the hat speak, in a rather low tone. Your breath hitched "You’re old to be sorted… it won’t be easy to decide where you’ll fit in best."

"It’s… speaking to me…" you said as you looked at McGonagall.

"It does that often, just let him ramble."

You took a deep breath and continued to listen "ambitious, clever, brave." He said "Many qualities from many houses in one person…"

"Ambitious no…" you whispered back "Not cunning, not a traitor."

"You’ve got preferences," He responded to your words "You don’t want to be a Slytherin."

"I’m no snake." You responded.

"Slytherin are not all traitors, besides, other houses can harbour them too."

"I… I don’t want to see him every day." You admitted, thinking of Regulus.

"There might be things you don’t know about him… or the other boy."

"I just–" you started.

"–Gryffindor!" The hat roared before you even had time to elaborate.

Professor McGonagall smiled as Dumbledore told her "She’s one of yours."

She walked towards you, took the hat off your head and set it on the pillow again "I had a good feeling about you," she said with a smile.

"Nimbletwist," called the old man, soon enough a house elf appeared, "Please take (Y/N)’s robes to the laundry elves, that way they’ll have her house colours before her classes in the morning." The house elf nodded.

"Please follow us," said McGonagall as they guided you out of the office and towards the great hall. In the middle of the way, the same boy you’d seen on the platform walked towards her.

"I was told you were looking for me or Lily, she stayed with the first years, and sent me here."

She nodded "This is (Y/N), she’s new, the hat just sorted her in Gryffindor, and she’s in your year. I was hoping you could introduce her to your classmates and keep her out of trouble until the end of the day." The last remark seemed to be directed towards him specifically.

Remus, as you remembered, just gave her a flashy smile and nodded "I’m always out of trouble." He responded before turning towards you and offering his hand "Remus Lupin, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you." You shook his hand and smiled back. McGonagall and Dumbledore were gone in an instant, and you were left alone with yet a new Hogwarts student.

"I saw you at the station."

"You ran into me at the station," you corrected teasingly.

"You’re right," he said with an apologetic smile "I wasn’t looking where I was going."

"It’s ok, I can tell you’ve got very many responsibilities around here."

"I’m a prefect, that’s why I’ve been so busy today," He explained and changed the subject "I didn’t see you on the train."

"I stayed in a cart most of the way there, met a girl called Marlene, she’s lovely."

"You met Marlene?" He asked, surprised. "She’s also in Gryffindor."

“Our year too, right?” He nodded in response. “Where are we going?” You asked as you walked alongside him.

“Great hall, I just need to meet with some of my friends first.” You nodded and followed him all the way to a hallway, two boys waited there for him.

“Moony!” Said the tallest of the two as soon as he saw Remus, he was wearing a pair of round spectacles and had relatively long messy hair “Took you long enough.”

“And you brought company,” said the blond boy, he’d been the first one of the two to notice you.

“Yeah, guys this is (Y/N), she just transferred here, McGonagall asked me to take her to the great hall and introduce her to everyone.”

You waved awkwardly from behind Remus and the shorter boy walked towards you “Peter Pettigrew, nice to meet you.”

“(Y/N) (Y/LN),” you responded with a smile as he shook your hand.

“Hold up,” said Remus turning towards you “Your last name’s (Y/LN)? Same (Y/N) (Y/LN) Pads couldn’t shut up about on 5th year?”

Pads? You wondered in your head as the only boy who hadn’t introduced himself spoke “She fits the description,” he said as he looked at you with curiosity “Hair, eyes, complexion, has to be her.”

“Do you by chance speak Spanish and French too?” Peter asked.

Still slightly confused, you nodded. “It is her! Pas will go crazy when we tell him,” said Remus with a smile.

“Right, I was forgetting,” said the boy with messy hair “I’m James Potter, nice to meet you,” he said with a flashy smile as he offered his hand for you to shake.

You took his hand, and that’s when it downed you. These boys, they were all Sirius’ friends. “It’s nice to finally meet you, James,” you told him with a smile.

“Finally?” He asked, confused.

You quickly remembered the letter you sent him hadn’t been signed with your name and decided perhaps it would be better to leave things as they were “Ah… Sirius told me a lot about you.”

“He’ll be thrilled when he sees you,” said Peter excitedly, to that you wondered which kind of thrilled? “That may not be today tho, if he’s in position.”

You shrugged “In position?”

James smiled mischievously and handed you a small umbrella “Can you take care of this for me? Until we see each other again?”

You grabbed the umbrella and nodded. He winked at you and turned to Remus who spoke to them “So, everything’s ready right?”

“Yes, Pads’ll do the heavy magic, we just need to make sure the lasting jinxes are not countered too fast,” responded James.

“Fantastic!”

“Off to your prefect duties then,” Said Peter almost shoo-ing Remus “You have to be in position, too.”

Remus nodded and turned around to walk to the other side, turning back to you shortly “Come on,” he motioned for you to follow “I gotta introduce you to some more people,” he said with a smile.

When you arrived at the great hall it was almost already full of people. You saw Regulus staring at you from a table with kids all wearing green, he looked like he wanted to approach you but when Remus guided you to the Gryffindor table he sat back down “Hey everyone!” He said with a smile “This is (Y/N), she’s new.”

Marlene smiled and waved towards you “Here, sit with us.” She said as she and the red hair girl that had called Remus at the station both opened some space for you.

“Mind taking care of her while I focus on some other prefect duties?” He said looking at the redhead.

“Of course,” she said with a smile and turned towards you “Lily Evans,” she then pointed at a girl, “You’ve met Marlene, yeah?” She asked to which you nodded, “this is Mary,” she said pointing at a girl with the most beautiful curls you’d seen in your life. “That over there is Tom”, she said pointing at a boy with brown hair “And that’s Beth,” she said pointing at another redhead. She continued naming other students and then she started talking to you about the teachers, who all sat on a table right in front of the four tables with students that wore different coloured robes.

“Do we always sit colour coded?” You asked as you stared at the other tables.

“Oh… yeah, we sit at our house’s table at meal times.”

“So houses don’t really mix?”

“On classes we do.”

“But never on meal times?” She shook her head “So you only make friends in your house.”

“Not at all, I used to have a Slytherin friend, but sometimes the values of the people in their houses can become stronger than their original self.”

“I’m sorry,” you said when you noticed that the falling out had clearly hurt her.

“Don’t be,” she said with a smile, slightly forced. “But you can make friends with other houses, it’s just a bit harder to get close to them.” She explained and then her face lit up with an idea, “You know, Remus and I, we started a study group last year, you could join us if you wanted to, that way you could meet more people.”

“That’d be lovely, thank you Lily,” you told her with a smile.

By then the sorting ceremony had ended and Dumbledore stood up from his seat in the centre of the teacher’s table.

“Hogwarts has always been a place of wonder, where magic comes alive and friendships are forged. Whether you are starting your magical journey,” he said glancing towards the first years “or returning to continue your studies, this is a place where dreams are nurtured and knowledge is expanded. We know we’re living in dark ages, the magical community is filled with hate and discrimination at the moment, but the school will not tolerate any instances of said hate or discrimination to be brought inside these walls. We are all witches and wizards, our precedence does not change that fact. We must remember the core values that make Hogwarts shine. Respect, compassion, and loyalty shall be the guiding principles that shape our interactions. We are a community, a single organism, and we must understand that an organism at war with itself is doomed.”

“Embrace the thrill of discovering new spells, uncovering ancient mysteries, and weaving your own story in the tapestry of magic, but remember to be kind, and loving towards your fellow classmates.” He paused and clapped his hands with a smile “May your time at Hogwarts be filled with magical moments, lifelong friendships, and unforgettable experiences. I have no doubt that each and every one of you holds within you great potential, waiting to be unlocked. Welcome to Hogwarts!”

At that moment plates started appearing right in the middle of all the tables and students started to indulge in them. It was truly a feast. “Is Muggle-born prejudice as bad in the UK as the media claims?” You asked Lily who cringed slightly.

“Worse,” responded Mary instead “Some pure-blood kids’ parents are death eaters,” she explained “They follow in their parents' steps and spread hate among the school. Last year a muggle-born boy was tortured so badly he ended up in St. Mungo’s, they never discovered who had done it.” She explained.

“We always make sure to walk in groups,” Marlene explained “That way no one's ever completely alone, you don’t want to become a target of their hate.”

“But she’s a (Y/LN)? Your family’s pure blood right?” Asked Beth from the other side “I read about the history of Pure Blood wizards for a project last year,” she explained when everyone gave her a look.

“Uhh.. yeah.” You said with an awkward smile, remembering how your parents had made such an effort to hide your non-wizarding great-grandmother origins from all the records.

“Still, she’s new, we’re better off if we stick to each other.”

You nodded “You girls know best,” you said with a smile and looked around, you wondered what would happen when you eventually saw Sirius. Would he even want to speak to you? He ignored your letters so I’d seem he wouldn’t, and you had gotten over him, or you hope you had, it’d been over two years.

By then you looked around. Wondering where Remus and the boys he’d introduced you to had gone too, maybe they were going to skip dinner together or something. And then you felt it, a small drop of water falling on top of your right hand as you were taking a bite of mashed potatoes.

You stared at it for a second before looking up and feeling another one fall right on your cheek. On the ceiling, the clouds were quickly turning grey, and more droplets of rain started to fall. Eventually, you heard the rumbling of some far-away thunder and saw some of the clouds shine with lighting. In the span of a minute, rain started pouring. Some students got under the tables, others walked in panic towards the doors of the hall.

You took out the umbrella James had given you and opened it, covering yourself and Lily under it.

“Why do you have an umbrella?” She asked you, suspicion evident on her face.

“I… came from Wales, before taking the Hogwarts Express,” you lied “You know how it’s always pouring there.”

She nodded and huddled closer to you, and the two of you both stood in front of the table as you saw the rest of the chaos ensue. Some teachers were trying to use a spell to avoid getting wet but it did not seem to be working. McGonagall was desperately trying to stop the rain while Dumbledore stood there with somewhat of a diverted smile. He stood up and with a wave of his wand said “Finite Incantatem.” The rain stopped, you pulled the umbrella down and shook it to get rid of the small droplets still coating it, but only minutes later it started pouring again, even stronger this time.

Dumbledore seemed puzzled, but that satisfied smile wasn’t gone, almost as if he was proud of the elaborate spell his students had created.

Lily looked around suspiciously “I knew they were up to something. That’s why James didn’t even try to sit with me on the train!”

“James Potter?” You asked.

“You’ve met him?” She asked, puzzled.

“Remus introduced me to him and Peter before bringing me here,” you explained.

“Did they look suspicious?” She asked.

“I… wouldn’t know.” You responded. While you were pretty sure it had been them who caused the ruckus you were going through at the moment, you didn’t know how close Lily was to them, and you didn’t want to give her more reasons to think it had been them, which she already did. Who knows? She could’ve been the kinda person who would tell a teacher. And you certainly did not need to add any more reasons for Sirius to intensify his animosity towards you any further.

“Witches and Wizards, this marks the end of our feast, please retire to your dorms,” Dumbledore’s voice boomed through the hall when he placed his wand on his throat to amplify it.

Seraphina Nightshade, who Lily had identified as the head of Hufflepuff, walked towards her table "Alex, find the other prefects and take the first years to their dorms."

Alex nodded and went off to tell the rest. "I have to go find the first years,” Lily told you urgently. You nodded and walked alongside her.

Out of nowhere, Remus caught up with the two of you "Hey again," he said with that dashing smile of his. Lily gave him a look and continued calling the first years. Once outside of the great hall, you closed the umbrella, bending it back to its small state while Lily and Remus made sure all the first years were ready. The Gryffindor head boy, Teddy Hawthorn, had given the prefects the new password to enter their house common room and sent them all but Remus and Lily, who would take the first years, to find the rest of the Gryffindors. Lily was at the front, guiding everyone while Remus and you stayed at the back, making sure none of the new kids were left behind.

"I get it this isn’t what normal dinners look like?" You said, motioning to the chaos all around you.

He laughed, "Let’s say it’s a bit of a special one."

As the entire group approached the grand staircases, you spotted Marlene and Mary, who walked along a couple of stairs above you. They were soaked, like most people around you, leaving the stairs very wet behind them.

"Mind your step," Lily told everyone from the top of her stairs "The stairs are quite slippery, we don’t want anyone to trip."

Just as she said that a small girl that walked just in front of you tripped, her ring falling back a couple of steps. Remus quickly held her up, but the moment she realised her ring was gone she panicked. "It’s a family heirloom!” She said distressed.

"It’s ok, I’ll get it," you told her as you walked back to find it.

"(Y/N) wait!” You heard Remus warn but it was too late, the stairs were already moving. Remus jumped before the gap between the stairs was too big but by the time Lily saw what was happening it was too late. It would be impossible for you and Remus to catch up with them unless the stairs aligned themselves again.

"It’s ok," Remus shouted at Lily, who stood a couple of metres away "We’ll catch up with you in the tower.”

She nodded and motioned for the children to follow her, but the little girl was still distressed looking towards you. You finally found the ring between a crevice and showed it to her. She seemed relieved, you then made a small spell and the ring started levitating, sooner than later it was swiftly landing on her palm.

"Thank you," she said before running behind Lily and the rest of the first years.

"That was really nice,” Remus said as he saw the little girl go "and reckless, you could’ve gotten lost"

You turned towards him "and here I thought recklessness was a particular Gryffindor trait."

He laughed lightly as he shook his head "Come on, we should arrive at the dorm room before curfew."

You nodded and followed behind him to another set of stairs, eventually, you found yourselves in front of a dead end. The stairs had also changed on Remus’ planned path “damn it,” he whispered under his breath.

"Plan B is not gonna work, aye?" You asked, leaning against a wall.

He exhaled, "You don’t seem particularly preoccupied by being lost and not getting to the common room on time."

"I’m new, I got lost, they’re not gonna punish me."You shrugged “Besides, it’s not as if I had planned the entire prank that got us here in the first place," you said that last bit with a knowing smile.

"Are you trying to imply something?”

"Me? Whatever could I be implying?" You responded innocently “So… what’s plan C?”

“There’s a way to get there. But you mustn’t tell anyone about it.” You nodded and he guided you through a door a couple of steps behind, then he turned towards you again “Would you allow me to blindfold you?”

You raised your eyebrows at that, with a little smile on your face “Buy me dinner first?”

“Not like that!” He responded, surprised. “We’re gonna take a shortcut, it’s a secret passage.”

“Mm… and if I know where it is, it won’t be so much of a secret…”

“So…?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Of course you’re not gonna blindfold me Remus!” You retorted “A girl’s gotta know how to sneak around the castle too.” He stared at you for a second, as if trying to decide whether to trust you with the location of his secret passage. “Hey, if it makes you feel better, I solemnly swear I’m telling no one about your passage.” That line convinced him on the spot, but you didn’t know it yet, so you kept talking, presenting your hand in front of him, with your smallest finger raised and an innocent smile “Pinky promise?”

He laughed at that. “This isn’t the Japanese Mafia,” he nodded towards your finger.

“Why? You wouldn’t want to cut it off?” You said as you raised your finger to look at it up close, then swiftly brought it back down and turned to look at him “Anyway… Am I gonna have to excuse myself for getting lost, or are we going to take your secret passage?”

He smiled at that, he kind of started to understand why Sirius was absolutely obsessed with you when he came back from that summer in 5th year. “All right, let’s go.” You smiled at that and followed behind him. He took you all the way to the end of the hallway where a giant painting stood. Besides it, a shield with two swords crossed in the middle, like a coat of arms.

“Sneaking about again, Mr. Lupin?” Asked the old wizard staring at us from the painting “And you bring company,” he added suggestively.

“Not today Oliver,” Remus complained as he pressed a button on the hilt of one of the swords, causing the shield to separate from the wall, opening a relatively small hole.

“That’s the secret passage?” You asked, looking at the dark passageway that seemed to extend from the other side of the window-like hole.

Remus nodded “Is either that or we go wait until the stairs decide to change for us.”

“Fine then,” You said as you climbed through the wall and pulled your wand from your pocket, whispering “Lumos.” Remus was just behind you and once he was inside, the shield closed the hole in the wall.

“So…” you said, scooting out of the way to let him take the lead “Which way to go?”

“It’s easy, we’ll have to go up some stairs tho,” he explained before he started walking, with his wand raised high to show you the way. He took a couple of lefts and then you went up a rather long spiral staircase. “We’re almost there,” he said. “We need to get out of this passage and take another one before we get there.”

“Do I have to swear I won’t tell anyone again?” You teased, he gave you a look and then shook his head with a small smile forming on his lips. “Just wanted to make sure.”

By then you had reached a dead end, he whispered something onto the wall and it moved, letting the two of you out. But just as you got out of the passage and onto the hall, you crashed into something. But there was nothing really there. Until there was. Somehow you had stepped on Jame’s cloak and it had slipped off of him and Peter.

You were very surprised when you saw them appear out of nowhere until you noticed the cloak on the floor. Picking it up, giving it a look and handing it over to the two of them. James took it. “You’ve got an invisibility cloak?! Where did you get it? I’ve been trying to get my hands on one for ages, but the spells on them are rarely any good, I’ve never seen one as good as yours.”

“Uh… it’s a family heirloom…”

“Oh, you’re so lucky!” You said and then, you realised how the rain prank had lasted so long “It all makes sense now! That’s how you managed to counter Dumbledore’s spell. You were close to him! You used your cloak to hide from the people and did a close-range counter spell, Dumbledore’s magic didn’t even reach all the way to your spell caster.”

“You told her it was US?!” Peter asked Remus, looking completely betrayed.

“Remus? No! I assumed it was you when James’ umbrella became useful!” You told them, and then looked at Peter “You confirmed my theory now, tho.”

James punched him lightly on the arm in reproach “Ouch.” Peter complained and rubbed his arm as Remus walked closer to you.

“You cannot tell anyone about it,” he said seriously.

“Why would I? It was a great prank! You could’ve added chaos by having toads raining too but I guess the spell would’ve been a bit more complicated.”

“That would’ve actually been great!” Peter agreed, forgetting all together he had been the one to out them.

Then you heard steps from the end of the hallway “Someone’s coming,” you warned.

“Quick, let’s get out of here.” Said James as he pulled a tapestry from the side and motioned for you to get in.

Once deep in the small aisle, you decided to ask the question you’d been thinking about since Remus guided you through the first passage “So… How do you guys know so many ways to sneak about? Are you in some kind of secret club?”

“We’re making a map, so we explore the castle a lot,” Peter said casually which earned him another punch, this time from Remus.

“Might as well tell the new girl all of our secrets, right mate?” James complained.

“I guess I’m trustworthy like that.” You said with a smile, even if the dark passage wouldn’t really let any of them see “Besides, it was you who gave me the umbrella.”

“Yeah James, you gave the girl the umbrella,” Peter retorted.

“I was trying to be nice,” he explained, “she’s new.”

“It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone, about your prank, or about the fact that I was sneaking about with the… What? Hogwarts gang of pranksters?”

“That’s a terrible name for a gang,” Remus said.

“Says the guy with MOONY as a nickname.”

“I swear she’s been here for like 3 hours and she picked up on half the things we’ve done,” James said, pinching his nose.

“Also Sirius mentioned his friends and he liked making pranks in the school at some point,” you said remembering how he’d told you about a particular prank a few days before you sneaked onto the zip line park “When we were on talking terms.”

“On talking terms?” Asked Peter, but by then you had already arrived at the end of the hallway and Remus got ahead of him, shushing him before looking around and motioning for the three of you to follow behind.

“Mystic whispers,” he said to the portrait of a fat lady who opened up to let the three of you into the Gryffindor common room.

Regulus’ letter,

Burned by (Y/N) without opening.

July 23th, 1974 Dear (Y/N), I know you may not want to hear a word from me, but beseech of you to do so, for it is imperative that you lend me your ear. First and foremost, it was never my intention for my progenitors to discover our clandestine affair. I had resolved to provide a cloak of secrecy to shield you and Sirius from their prying eyes. However, an owl arrived to my father, telling him his offspring had been seen in a witchcraft emporium within the city limits, it enraged him. With righteous indignation, my father directed his scrutiny towards me, inquiring as to your whereabouts. I resorted to our story, how you’d gone to a broomstick race with Sirius, as we had plotted. Yet, to my great chagrin, he had already acquired knowledge of the falsehood, detecting the mendacity inherent in my words. Compelled against my volition, I found myself partaking of a draught, undoubtedly Veritaserum, rendering me incapable of withholding the truth. At that moment, the weight of guilt settled upon my conscience, eclipsing any previous instances of remorse in my life. Providentially, I managed to refrain from implicating your involvement, particularly as the collective assumption posited the culpability of dear Sirius. Despite your impassioned plea, reverberating across the wooden deck, beseeching their cognizance of your agency, I, alas, found myself bereft of the fortitude to voice your pivotal role. The notion of subjecting you, dear (Y/N), to the punitive machinations my progenitors habitually employ proved an insurmountable ordeal. I could not bear the prospect of witnessing my parents inflict their customary retributions upon your personage. I know their punishments. I do not want you to know them too. Perchance I observed my mother consigning some of your letters to Sirius to the scorching fire, ensuring that he refrained from indulging in the forbidden act of writing you back. They harbour an unwavering resolve to preclude him from "exerting undue influence" upon your vulnerable disposition. "For as long as you dwell within this house, the act of inscribing correspondence to her shall be verboten," Mother uttered with resolute conviction. Devoid of alternative recourse, Sirius succumbed, he was forced, a spell was cast on him. Ah, Mother, she can be wicked if you do not abide by her volition. I beseech your clemency, dear (Y/N), for the manifold grievances that have befallen us. I fervently pray that you shall not harbour enmity towards Sirius and myself, for the prospect of such estrangement would be anathema to my very soul. I hope this letter finds you in good spirits and the finest of health. With utmost sincerity, Regulus Arcturus Black

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A/N: Most Poly!Marauders fics are oneshots, where the relationship between characters is already established, and they're all happy and pleased with it. No issues, no drama, but I WANTED the drama. Couldn't find it, so I set myself up to write the story behind the stablished relationship. I wanted to know how they started dating each other, the jealousy, the will they won't they, because getting into a poly relationship can't be an easy task, and I wanted to explore that story. If you're interested: Welcome to Gilded Constellations!

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korgidorgi · 21 days ago

Note

I LOVE YOUR WINGED READER STUFF.

At the end of your HC with Mel, you mentioned that Reader and Mel see each other after the fic with Ambessa. So, and hear me out, Singed turns Reader into a giant monster to fight in the war‼️

Mel Medarda x Winged!Reader - new plot idea (thanks anon :3)

I actually already have a plan for the next bit of the story, but I really do love that idea! So I’ve maybe kinda added an alternate timeline for you :)

This was actually super fun to write, thank you so much for the prompt! I’m so glad you like my series!!!! I didn’t really do the giant monster thing, but I did practically get rid of everything that makes King Raven King Raven >:3 (lmk if you really want the big scary monster reader and I’ll write another one this was so funnn)

Idk when I’m posting this, but I wanna post it now bc all I’ve been doing the last few days is writing writing writing for this Winged!Reader series thing. The hyper fixation is hyper fixating and I can’t stop it. Gods I need to learn patience lmaoooo (I lied I wrote for 6 hours and now I’m posting)

Lowkey, this can be a follow up next chapter to the Ambessa fucking hates you fic. Like, it actually flows and that one makes this all make sense. Nothing feels better than puzzle pieces putting themselves together for a project you never thought would be a project. Like, I’ve had this fucking character in my head since before season two came out and this just let me put it all together and develop this story for myself. (Maladaptive daydreamer much?) Anyways, I’ll stop ranting and raving, I just actually lost myself in writing this wsjjkanjsidfiwj.

Oh my gyatt this is a long one…

Warnings: Violence, cursing, mind control?, blood, injuries, angst

Summary: basically the above ask.

Ambessa still has you in her possession, hidden away from the world. Singed runs the final ‘treatment’ you’d failed to receive three years ago when he first had you in his lab, when he first made you into his creation. Under Noxian control, possession, and guard, you remain close to his needles and his concoctions. With the help of the Herald’s existence and the relationship with Singed’s work, your mind becomes entangled with thoughts that are not yours. Commands slip into your head, your body obeys. Flashes of what’s happening feel like a dream, or a bad trip. Sound is a whirr in your mind, blending together in a cacophony of noise. You’re unable to make out what is producing them, let alone be able to separate them. Your mind is barely present, pushed down by whatever concoctions Singed has pumped into you once again. Trying to fight the loss of control is painful, a way to keep you compliant, keep you beaten back and unable to defy your destiny.

Flashes of large ships stain your mind, just barely in focus. The harsh clinking of metal, chains, waves against a hull, people shouting, Ambessa barking orders. It’s a blur. The only thing crystal clear in your head is the orders you’ve been given by Singed and Ambessa. It’s hard to focus on anything but your orders, even then, you blindly follow, unable to stop your own body from moving on its own accord. Your body is wrapped in red and metal. Noxian war garments. A new, metallic mask adorns your face, a twisted version of a falcon with sharp edges and a dark aura. Your hands grip the weapons in your hands; a Noxian war spear in one, and a close combat heavy blade gauntlet in the other.

The boat lurches, and the utter of a single word sends you into action. Your wings spread, beating quick and sending you into the air. Dodging projectiles, you use your weapons expertly, fighting with horrifying swiftness and strength. Piltovian’s stand no chance against you. You’re stabbing, slashing, swinging, wrestling with anyone you come across. Each face your eyes focus on only reveal the same sinister face that put you in this position, the face that causes agony whenever you see it. Rage boils in your blood, activating the Shimmer in your body. Pain surges through your body and your mind, forcing you to continue and discouraging any urge to disobey.

You’ve flown past the enemy lines, far into their territory. Your objective to clear a path to the Hexgates at any means necessary. You slaughter your way to the building, leaving so much blood in your wake. Stepping up the staircase to the front doors of the building, you wipe the blood from your weapons, revealing the shimmering steel beneath the red liquid. The heavy doors are locked, but it’s not a problem for you. One swift, Shimmer-fueled kick to it breaks the locking mechanisms. The doors uselessly swing open slowly, groaning as the hinges protest. More enforcers are inside, opening fire the moment they see you. You move quickly, dodging most of their fire as you rush them one by one. Blood splatters across your form with each enforcer you take out, staining your red drapes, your feathers, and your armor. Only a few stray bullets hit their mark, but only to just end up grazing you. Small tears in your outfit build up, showing the others how much strength you wield against them despite each injury you sustain. None of your injuries slow you down, your body moving like a machine. Your movements are automatic, calculated, the end goal to remove everyone who stands against you. The Shimmer in your veins helps to begin closing the wounds, keeping you moving towards your objective.

His face is everywhere. No matter how many times you rid your vision of him, another version of him pops up, another sting of pain paired with it. You close in on him, quickly slashing his throat with your spear before he can fire at you. Another version of him fires at you from down the hall. Your eyes snap over to him and your body moves on instinct, quickly closing in on him. You thrust your spear into his chest, easily slicing through his blue armor and quickly staining it a dark red. He falls from the tip of your spear, only for another version to take his place further down the hall. It’s a nightmare you can’t wake from. The only way forward is to fight, to kill until you stop seeing his face. You remove the blade from another body, huffing as you do. Confusion, rage, panic, it all flows through your system, your mind. You can feel that something is wrong with you, but you’re so disorientated, stuck in this twisted nightmare that feels so real with the pain searing through your body.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, focusing on clearing the way to the Hexgates. One more figure stands in your way. Singed stands at the end of the hall, donned in a white cloak, a hood over his head. There is no weapon in his hands, only the golden threat of pain swirling around him.

His words are muffled, making your vision blur more. You shake your head, trying to clear your vision. You can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s so similar to his voice, but there’s another element to it. Something gentle.

“Get out of my head…” You seethe at him, your grip on your weapons increasing as you begin to take strides towards him.

With a wave of his hand, a wave of golden pain rushes towards you. You swiftly dodge it, beating your wings to get an advantage above him. Before you can get too high to make your move, two golden tendrils wrap around your ankle, pulling you back down to the ground. You quickly adapt, swiftly closing in on him to land a strike against him. You miss. He’s too quick and sends another wave of gold at you, his mottled voice ringing out yet again, this time his tone is a bit more desperate. Only a few of his words stick in your mind.

“I… …not… …r— enemy—“

His voice is barely understood, fading in and out of your mind, but it doesn’t sound like him. It’s something softer. Familiar.

Despite it, you don’t stop your objective. Your body moves against your will, continuing to strike out at him. Your body and mind are still driven by fear and illusions, working like an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

With each golden wave of potential pain sent your way, you fight harder. It’s a very balanced face off. But you don’t let the golden waves touch you. Who knows how painful he’ll make you. You can’t get close enough to land a hit on him, but neither can he. It doesn’t seem like he’s fighting very hard to stop you, but hard enough to keep you at bay.

“Fucking fight me you coward!” You urge him angrily, rushing in to try to land another hit.

Before you can reach him, another golden wave comes at you from the side, sending you into the walls of the hall. You let out a grunt at the contact, your mask flying off your face and landing on the floor with a metallic clatter.

Something jostles in your mind. Now your mind can’t make up if your looking at him, or Mel. That’s impossible. Mel is still missing. She can’t be here. Not with Singed.

You shake your head, trying to clear your vision and your mind. You let out a growl, fighting against another golden wave that tries to pin you to the wall. He speaks again, the voice muffled, distorted. Like there’s two people talking at the same time. He approaches you, a hand outstretched to keep you at bay with his golden magic. The closer he gets, the more confusing everything becomes. You’re seeing two faces on the same body, sending waves of intense emotional distress, polar opposites. It’s overwhelming, causing pain to shoot through your mind. You lash out again, trying to keep him away, to end him, to stop the mental torment. Mel is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Please!” He pleads with you, sending another wave of energy to keep you against the wall. “Remember!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You scream at him, your vision flicking between Mel’s face and Singed’s.

You fight against the golden energy, but it’s stronger than your body, keeping you in your vicinity as he approaches you. You shake your head again, trying to right your mind and your vision, to try to make sense of this nightmare. Despite how unreal everything looks and sounds, the pain and emotion surging through your body and mind screams otherwise. You can’t tell what is what anymore, if anything is even real.

You break free of the golden energy, rushing him again with unparalleled speed. You manage to push him back, pinning him against the wall on the opposite side of the hall. You hold your blade against his throat, your body freezing as you pin him to the wall. Your mind can’t make up who you’re looking at. You can’t bring yourself to hurt her.

“What did they do to you, my Dove?”

The first cohesive sentence uttered since your mind got thrown into a blender. Your chest feels like it’s being squeezed, but your body remains frozen. Singed would never know to say that. Despite your mind flicking through the two different faces, one thing that remains constant is the eyes. Full of concern and sorrow, holding a tenderness only one person has ever shown you. Your breaths come out in ragged huffs, your mind erupting in pain as you try to piece everything together.

A hand comes up to gently move a piece of hair from your face, the touch gentle, so gentle. The longer you look, the more clear her face becomes, the illusions beginning to fade from your mind and vision. A soft, warm, golden glow emanates from her hand, her face slowly coming into focus, the illusions of Singed’s wrinkled, bandaged face slowly fading. You blink, shaking your head slightly before focusing back on her.

“Mel…?” You ask so softly, your voice breaking.

Your grip loosens on her, noticing the heavy blade you have against her throat. A stab of guilt washes over you, sending a small electric shock through your chest. Slowly, you come to your senses, but the pain in your head begins to increase. Your face contorts into one of pain as you try to fight it, trying to believe that Mel is here. And you almost killed her.

You back away from her, your body trembling from the emotional and reality whiplash. Your weapon drops to the ground with a loud clatter, echoing through the hall. Your hands move to your head as the pain increases. The room begins to spin, sending you stumbling back as you try to right your bearings. Pained cries leave your lips, both from the physical pain and emotional overwhelm. Tears streak down your cheeks, both from pain and intense anguish. You can’t bring yourself to look at her again, backing away from her. You glance down at the armor you’re clad in, noticing the blood staining the metal and soaking it the cloth.

A soft hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. You flinch from her touch, backing away from her yet again. Your eyes meet hers, wide with fear and anguish as you finally see her face. The pain in your head is intense, making it hard to focus. Mel just takes another couple steps to you, placing both of her hands on each side of your face.

“My Dove…” She murmurs softly, her eyes taking in your physical and mental torment. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She presses her forehead against yours, her eyes closing softly. You lean into her touch, your body losing the strength to continue with your orders from Ambessa. It’s like a filter has been removed from your mind, or maybe placed in to filter out the filth that’s been clouding your mind. Everything is still confusing, you’re still trying to piece together what you’ve just done, what you’ve been seeing, acting upon.

A choked sob leaves your throat, your knees becoming weak under her touch. The way she so quickly forgives you. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you against her as you cry, apologies tumbling from your mouth as you cling to her.

“Its okay, Dove.” She reassures you, her voice soft, smooth like silk. “You weren’t in control. It wasn’t you.”

You try to compose yourself, remembering the war that’s happening outside. After a few moments, you pull back, gazing at her, taking in the golden markings that adorn her skin. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, your thumb gently stroking across her skin, tracing over the gold.

“I can’t believe you’re really here…” You murmur softly, your voice threatening to break again.

“I’m here, Y/N,” she reaffirms to you, giving you a small squeeze to emphasize her statement. “I always will be.”

“We can’t stay here.” You speak again, pulling back from her, albeit reluctantly.

“I know.” She replies solemnly. “We have to stop Viktor from getting to the Hexgates.”

“Yeah,” you confirm quietly.

She takes a step towards you, not allowing you to pull away from her.

“He’s not in the sphere.” You reveal to her, trying to remember the flashes of Ambessa’s plans. “It’s a diversion.”

“Then where is he? How is he getting to the Hexgates?” She asks, concern evident in her tone. “I don’t know, exactly.” You admit, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help to you.”

“Don’t apologize,” she brings a hand to your cheek again, gently guiding you to look at her again. “You can only do what you can.”

••• ••• •••

The telltale sound of a rifle firing rings from the other side of the door. There’s a glow about Mel, a physical manifestation of her magic. The large doors of the building swing open as Mel approaches them, sunlight bathing the hall in its warmth. She approaches Ambessa, lowering her hood.

You look out at the terrace from behind her, seeing Caitlyn kneeling on the ground, a body collapsed right next to her. The slew of Noxian soldiers awaiting Ambessa’s orders, red flags waving in the wind.

“If you care for me at all, spare their lives.” Mel speaks as she strides out onto the terrace of the building. “There is nothing to gain from this senseless bloodshed!”

Ambessa rolls her eyes at Mel’s appearance. “Still a fox.” She scoffs before calling out to her soldiers.

Her soldiers weapons raise, broad shields protecting their bodies. Mel glances around at the army before her. A distant approaching sound of music echos through the city, an airship rounding a corner and setting off explosions as it enters the airspace. People on hoverboards launch themselves from the craft, descending on the soldiers. Everyone’s attentions are on the cacophony above.

“Fire!” Ambessa orders, taking a swing at the Firelights as they swoop in from above.

Chaos erupts as the soldiers follow her orders, attacking the firelights as they close in. Some of the soldiers engage Mel and yourself, the two of you defending yourselves against the soldiers. The scuffle ends quickly, however. The ground shakes as a large block slams into the cocoon like sphere, smashing it into pieces. You immediately rush over to Mel, using your wings to wrap around her to shield her from the blast. Mel also shields the two of you from the debris with her magic, a golden shield appearing between the two of you and the impact. Once the dust settles, you step back from her, glancing between the diversion and Ambessa.

Ambessa smirks at the two of you, glancing at Caitlyn’s fallen face. Her soldiers move to create a ring around you, a sort of battle ring.

“Mother, look at the price of your ambition.” Mel speaks again, glancing around at the chaos of the city, taking another step forward. “You’ve sacrificed everything. Rictus, Kino, the city I built for this family.”

“If it was for us, you wouldn’t have fought me.” Ambessa sneers at her.

Mel scoffs at her mother. “You are no Medarda.”

“You remember your—“

A sudden blow from Caitlyn cuts Ambessa’s response off. “Shut up and fight!”

Caitlyn grabs an unattended spear from the ground, readying herself to take on the warlord. Without words, Ambessa picks up her own spear before launching it at Caitlyn. Mel deflects the spear with her magic, the weapon ricocheting off the shield and embedding itself into one of the Noxian soldiers surrounding the terrace. Ambessa doesn’t wait before sending her foot into Caitlyn, breaking the hilt of her spear and sending her stumbling back. She puts on her own helmet, preparing for a fight against the three of you. Between Mel’s Magic and Caitlyn’s desperation, Ambessa continues to hold her own. Caitlyn and Mel trade attacks, but are unable to do much against the warlord. Mel’s magic just gets absorbed by runic stones wrapped around Ambessa’s arm. The woman fights through a slash to her leg by Caitlyn, easily taking the younger woman down. Mel moves in for a close quarters attack, still using her magic against her to almost no effect.

You stalk around the other side of Ambessa, waiting for a good moment to strike. While she’s distracted with Mel and Caitlyn, you quickly move in, raising your own weapon to take a slash at her. She senses your attack, pushing Mel back before turning her attention to you and colliding with you, flipping you over her shoulder. Her attention is divided by the three of you, but she’s good at staying on top of your movements. You scramble to your feet again, ignoring the searing pain in your abdomen, beating your wings and going in for another attack, this time from above. Ambessa flips Caitlyn onto the ground again, using her stones to simultaneously block another magical attack from Mel. Before you can land a hit on the warlord, she dodges, grabbing one of your wings, and throws you to the ground once more. She doesn’t let go, bringing her foot down on it with a snap. She lets out a smug scoff at your cries of pain, enjoying the way you remain somewhat under her control, even if you’ve broken through the mental force of it. She sends her boot into the side of your head, finally dropping your wing at the dazed expression on your face. She stalks towards Caitlyn, who grabs a broken spear. She moves in for her own attack, but Ambessa quickly reverses the roles, holding the blade dangerously close to Caitlyn’s face. A golden shield tries to prevent the the blade from touching Caitlyn, but in the end, Ambessa’s blade hits his mark, slicing through Caitlyn’s face.

Ambessa stands, triumphant over Caitlyn as she watches the blood gush from her face and onto the ground. She pulls her mask off.

“You fought well, child.” She speaks down to her, watching the blood drip from Caitlyn’s eye.

Her eyes finally catch the small blade in Caitlyn’s hand, the stones on the ground, and it dawns on her.

“Now!” Caitlyn shouts back to Mel.

You glance from your dazed position, over to see Mel rise from the ground, her eyes boring into her mother’s.

“A wolf has no mercy.” She speaks, her hand landing on a thick necklace.

Your vision begins to fade in and out, the combination of the pain and injuries you’ve sustained beginning to take a toll on you. You try to rise, your strength sapped from you from the fight. Pain shoots through your wing. It’s bent at an angle it shouldn’t bend in, in an area that doesn’t bend. Your chest heaves at the pain and exhaustion, but your grit through it, focusing on folding your wings and sealing them back in the ink of your back tattoo. It’s an agonizing process with the damage done to your wing. You no longer feel the pain in your wing, but in the ink embedded in your skin where they’re stored.

When you finally gain the strength to sit up a bit, you look over to see Mel approach her mother. She catches the taller woman, gently bringing her down to the ground and cradling her in her lap. It’s hard to watch. Despite the life the woman had led, she was still Mel’s mother.

You force yourself to your feet, pushing past the pain of a multitude of injuries. As the adrenaline wears off, the pain becomes more pronounced, even revealing injuries you hadn’t realized you’d sustained. You limp over to Mel, lowering yourself to your knees at her side. Your hand rests softly on her shoulder, a small gesture of comfort if she’ll accept it.

That’s when the strings from above latch themselves to every single person, Noxian, Piltovian, Zaunite. Linking them— you— to the Arcane, to Viktor. It feels almost identical to what Singed had done to you, the magic of the arcane flowing almost the same as the Shimmer in your veins.

It doesn’t last long, an explosion from the top of the Hexgates sounds off. The strings are destroyed, dropping everyone back to the ground.

It aggravates your wounds again, your blood pooling on the ground more than before. The feeling of soft hands on your face and shoulder encourage you to open your eyes. You meet Mel’s eyes, concern etched into her features. She looks over your injuries, wincing at the sight of you all beaten up, your blood pooling on the ground beneath you.

You raise a shaky hand to rest on one of her wrists, your fingers gently wrapping around her. She can see the pain in your eyes, and you hers.

“I’m okay…” You try to reassure her, forcing a small smile. “Are you… are you okay?”

You look over her for any injuries of her own before she guides your face back to look at her. “I’m unharmed.” She replies softly.

“Mel… I…” You try to speak, but you’re almost at a loss for words.

Her thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry about your mother…” You finally speak, leaning into her touch, your eyes closing again.

“Don’t be.” She responds, her voice soft but firm.

She doesn’t say anything more. She just pulls you closer to her, embracing you gently.

#x reader #fanfiction #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #mel medarda #mel medarda x reader #arcane mel medarda #arcane mel #lol arcane #arcane lol #arcane #arcane mel x reader #mel medarda x you

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boltedfruit · 3 months ago

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Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Steve's attempt at a record-breaking gangbang ends up with him flying back to Hawkins to track down number one-ninety-eight. The mystery man who left an impression. - A thumb swipes his lower lip. Breath ghosts along the bite mark on his shoulder. It stings. Steve hopes he drew blood. “I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.”

Thank you to @cowboythighs for giving me permission to write this fic based on their super fun prompt, which you can read here~

Read the full fic below:

What’s in his fridge?

There’s at least one bag of broccoli, half a container left of that nice parmesan he splurged on…maybe the chicken wings in his freezer are still okay. Hopefully? He still has some of that decadent hickory barbeque sauce. There’s no reason he can’t cover a bit of freezer burn with a healthy dousing of the stuff. He didn’t do the dishes last night, but that’s fine. Has time to run the dishwasher before–

Something vibrates. Loudly.

Someone’s phone is going off in the middle of the shoot.

Steve lifts his head, annoyed that the director hasn’t called cut yet. The man on top of him is dripping sweat, a bead of which narrowly misses landing in his eye. Steve casts a look sideways, hoping to catch the director raising his walkie.

Nope. Still posted up behind his wall of cameras. Stoic as ever, the man watches Steve work.

Steve lets the moment drag, his expectant silence punctuated only by the grunting and groaning of the muscled man pumping away between his spread legs.

More loud vibrations.

He cranes his neck to see over the man’s shoulder, sees the clock over the huddled producers and decides himself it’s time for a break.

Steve presses a hand against the massive chest above him and pushes lightly. The man’s movement falters, stops. Steve meets his eyes with an easy air of I’m the star, get off me, and it does the trick. The behemoth withdraws from Steve’s body with a mutter and wipes the sweat from his red brow as Steve swings his legs over the platform and sits up. He tests his weight, but finds he can still place pressure where he needs to without any pain.

The director shouts something Steve doesn’t hear. Calls back, “Somebody’s phone is going off! It’s ruining the vibe.”

“What phone? I don’t hear a phone,” the director says in his heavy German accent, shrugging in a way that rankles Steve. “We’re almost at two-hundred, surely it can—”

“No, it can’t wait. I need five anyway.” His own assistant appears by his side with a robe.

Steve shrugs it on and heads toward the source of the vibrations. Around him, production comes to a standstill while fluffers and PAs run around tending to the talent.

Steve tracks the phone down in a bag near craft services, but a producer beats him to it. She sheepishly digs out her phone and shuts it off, muttering an apology.

Steve sighs, grabs another cracker and decides to take a much needed bathroom break. On his way, he grabs his own phone and sees a text from Robin.

still good for eight?

I’m only at 197, might be closer to 9 or 10.

big ew, but congrats. should I pick up dessert?

Coffee double dutch choco cake pls?

obvi, my very spoiled friend. have fun you little award winning superslut!

Thx, lov u!

Robin sends back a string of emojis. He finishes up in the bathroom, thinking of all the times he’s been nominated for an AVN but never won. And it’s not like it’s terribly hard. He chooses interesting projects. He works with skilled teams. He stays clear of scandals and keeps his nose figuratively and literally clean of all the seedy underground bullshit that comes with the job.

But best actor still eludes him.

It grinds his gears, or at least the ones he used to have back in high school. The ones driving him to be a better player than everyone else at basketball practice, the ones that pushed him to state championship games three of his four years at Hawkins High. The ones that crowned him prom king and made him a bullshit name for a bullshit time in his life.

It’s his inner machinery, and even though he’s grown up a lot in the last five years, he’s still yet to replace some old rusted parts.

As he returns to set, Steve runs his hands through his hair, pinches both cheeks a little to bring a fresh blush back to the surface. His assistant applies lip gloss as he situates himself back on the black and white platform where he’s been fucked for the last three hours by one-hundred-and-ninety-six men.

He’s aiming for three hundred before dinner. Three-fifty if more than a good chunk of the men left are two-pump chumps. It’s about scheduling.

Steve shifts his weight from one asscheek to another, feels a brief twinge in his lower back. He flips over, stomach pressing against the slim pleather cushion.

It’s almost five.

The director claps his hands, and once Steve is in position, everyone resumes their roles. He gets comfortable on his elbows, cock limp between his legs and showing for the camera. He hears the next guy shuffle up behind him, can hear the shaky breath leave him.

Everyone knows their part to play in this circus, and Steve knows his best of all. He’s front and center, surrounded by a seemingly endless line of men of all ages, shapes and sizes. He’s taken more dick and strap today alone than he probably has in the last few years combined.

He’s going to win best actor, and he’s going to win best gangbang.

The thing about sex work is that it’s like any other job, really. There are good days, long days, fun days, days that drive him up the fucking wall. There are times he’s excited, nervous, bored out of his skull. Most shoots he books last a day or two, and hardly ever does one last more than a week, tops. This isn’t his first gangbang scene, but it is a record breaker for him, and several others in the industry as far as he’s researched.

But so far it’s been a lot of the same. Almost two hundred men and he hasn’t held a steady erection since an hour in and now he’s been daydreaming while giving tried and true sultry looks to the camera, fake moans of practiced pleasure leaving his throat.

Steve’s good at his job.

He’s been doing it since his parents cut him off and kicked him out at eighteen. He moved to LA and lived in his car until Robin graduated and followed him to the big city. It was exhilarating at first, fun. These days, at twenty-three, he’s mostly just bored.

And he knows better than to ignore an ache. If he holds one position for too long, he’ll be wrecked for a week. He’s big enough of a name now he can negotiate a lot of his contracts, and so he always gets control over how he’s positioned. The cameras can figure it out from there.

“And…action!”

Steve pouts for the camera in front of him, parts his freshly glossed lips and crosses his eyes a little. He never got the cross-eyed thing, but it’s apparently a huge kink for some.

Fingertips tickle over his ass, lead to palms lightly petting his hips. Steve wiggles for the man he can’t see, encouraging and coaxing as he goes to his knees and leans back. Wants to be grabbed, manhandled. Add the potential for a little healthy bruising and the audience eats it up.

But that doesn’t happen. Instead, he hears a breathy sigh from behind him, and then the sound of spit a second before he feels it hitting his hole. It drips down slowly, painting him wet, and Steve keens for the lens trained on his face.

The thing about this shoot is that it’s been a nightmare to plan. A year to put together a schedule, another six months to find the talent. There’s been cancellations, reschedules, a few deaths even, more casting, issues with health insurance and testing dates. Steve’s been along for it all, because this is his project. His idea, his brainchild.

All for one day.

One day to break some records. Prove to himself he can do this. That what he does can win awards and not only nominations.

After that he can take a very, very long break.

The hand rubs up and down his spine, firm and sure. Applies a little pressure at the lumbar and Steve actually lets out a small moan. It’s nice. He might set up a massage for tomorrow.

The camera swings wide, leaves Steve’s face and gives him some breathing room. The hand on his back remains while the other presses two fingers to his hole. He’s stretched, lubed beyond the meaning of the word even before the spit. There’s no need to finger him open.

But he receives a gentle probing with two fingers, a few deep, slow strokes that press in search with what seems to be a practiced touch. Steve rolls his hips back. Takes a few tries, but when the extra finds his prostate, he gasps, drives back to meet that zing of electricity again and again.

“God, just look at you,” the extra whispers. “Can’t wait to feel you. I’m so lucky.”

Steve moans. Not so fake this time. He drops his head, catches sight of lightly haired thighs covered in scribbly tattoos. He doesn’t even take into account the size of the man behind him, too focused on his own swiftly filling erection.

Huh.

It’s not like it’s a requirement or anything, by contract or personal preference of his scene partners. A lot of the time the bottom isn’t hard. Not exactly fair, but a limp bottom does not a film break, or whatever. More than a few of the men who have been inside him today have paid him plenty of attention, even tried for longer than Steve felt necessary. But they were all here to do a job, and that was to film a gangbang scene with Steve as the gangbangee. Hard or limp, he just wanted them to finish in him so they could get the shot and all go home to a nice hot shower.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?”

Though dirty talk was common, it wasn’t in the script for this shoot. And it wasn’t the usual lead-in of fuck yeah, look at your puffy hole, you take it so well, you’re like a bitch in heat, take that shit, take it like a whore.

“That’s it, baby, relax for me.”

It’s sweet…it’s kind. Things a lover would say.

Another strike of lightning burns him from the inside out, and Steve lets out a breath he’d been holding.

The hand at his back glides down, calloused fingers smoothing over his skin, until the director calls for penetration.

Steve wants to snap at him to shut the hell up. This is fine. More than fine, even. His prostate hasn’t exactly been the star of the show today, and a little pleasure makes his job that more enjoyable.

The fingers leave, and in their place frustration grows. That is, until the blunt head of another cock is pressing against him–no, dragging. The man is rubbing himself over Steve’s hole. Isn’t shoving in and taking like all the others.

More spit hits his rim , makes him startle. The hand on his back draws circles to settle him like a spooked horse.

This isn’t lovemaking. This is a scene. Steve huffs at himself, thinks just stick it in already, dude.

The extra’s hands slide from his back to his hip, his other hand joining in and pulling Steve’s weight, using Steve’s own body to slide inside. Steve groans. The guy’s big, thick. Should have paid better attention while he had his head down.

“Knew you could take it, Harrington,” he says softly, and Steve almost misses it when the man whines as he bottoms out. Fingers dig into his sides, tight but not bruising. “Pictured it a little different, but a guy can’t complain.”

So the guy’s got a fantasy, that’s fine. A lot of the talent cast for this production expressed a desire to work with Steve. Came with the territory, and the long filmography.

But something about this man hits him a little different. His words have him melting enough to feel warmth build, begin to spread.

His legs are tingling, insides burning with the stretch and latent pleasure. He wants more.

He grinds his hips back, trying to put his weight into it. The man moans low and finally, finally, starts moving his hips. Drags Steve back on every thrust.

“Jesus, you’re so–so–” Another drawn-out moan and the man collapses along Steve’s back. He’s slim, but his arms are strong as they wind around Steve’s waist. More tattoos. Bats in flight, stretched faces with sharp teeth. Long hair tickles over his shoulder as the man noses along the back of his neck “You feel like a dream.”

It’s quiet. Quiet enough Steve knows the cameras won’t pick it up. It’s just for Steve, and that sends his blood rushing, dick kicking as tension builds in his belly.

“Shit,” he grinds out, feels drool slip from his open mouth to pool on the black pleather underneath. “Oh, God.”

“That’s it. Wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. Come on. You deserve to feel good.”

He’s so hard he’s aching. Feels the weight of himself slap his stomach on each ever harder, deeper thrust.

Steve’s going to come. He’s actually going to come.

“Just knew you’d be so good for me. Could tell the first day I ever saw you. Wanted you forever. And look what you’ve accomplished,” he babbles, Steve’s heart growing three sizes, “You’ve changed the industry. You showed LA who’s king.” A particularly deep thrust has his elbows giving out. The man effortlessly braces his abrupt fall, a calloused hand snaking up to pillow his jaw. Steve is vaguely aware of the camera in front of them both, but he couldn’t care less if he tried right now. It feels too good. Feels better than anything all day, all month, all year. To the cameras, it must look like Steve’s being choked, but it’s the farthest thing from it. He’s being held, kept safe. “Always knew you’d go places. Get everything you wanted and more. I was actually jealous, and look at us now. Can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Steve’s cursing, praying, something as he’s pressed into the pleather. Now, his cock is trapped, facing backward so every time the man draws out and pushes back in, their cocks drag for a brief moment of bliss. The cherry on top. Neat trick.

“Never thought I–never even dreamed–”

A gasp, a flash of teeth in skin and Steve is coming with a shout, flexing his ass to get more, more.

He feels warmth spread hot and wet inside him and knows this will only last another moment or two. He needs to turn around. To see the man that just took him apart without touching his cock. Needs to–

A thumb swipes his lower lip. Breath ghosts along the bite mark on his shoulder. It stings.

Steve hopes he drew blood.

“I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.”

The director shouts something Steve doesn’t hear. Can’t comprehend past the pleasant hum buzzing inside him.

But then the weight on his back is gone, the cock inside him slips free and with it a spurt of come. Cameras circle back around to catch the aftermath, hears a muttered nice from some crewmember when they see the twin puddle beneath himself.

He rolls his eyes, safe to do with no coverage on his face.

He feels so empty. Cold begins to creep in.

Steve blinks quickly. Why is his throat suddenly so tight?

Then another man approaches, is lifting his hips up, is pushing in with absolutely zero patience or attention paid to Steve at all. And that’s fine. It is.

They’re on a schedule, after all.

“Yippee!” Steve claps when Robin sets the plate of cake before him.

She joins him on the couch, a forkful of her own piece of cake already in her mouth. “I don’t know how you’re even sitting right now.”

“It’s honestly not that bad.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Look who’s literally talking.”

Robin pulls her own fork free and sticks her tongue out. “Seriously though, you sure you don’t need anything? A heating pad? Ointment? Therapy?”

“Ha ha. I already took care of what I needed to–stop making that face, oh my God. I’m just dandy, Robs, don’t worry. I want to veg out and watch tv for the next six months and gain like twenty pounds.”

“You are too skinny.”

“My point exactly.”

“But, still like. Wow.”

“I know.”

“Three-hundred sixty-eight guys. Whole ass men were inside you today. That has to be a health issue for the community or something, right? How are your insides not melting out of you right now? I should have laid down a towel to protect your precious piece of shit couch.”

“You’re so funny, and it’s our precious piece of shit couch.” But even so, Steve preens a little. He did it. He broke his goal and then some. “I’m gonna win that goddamn award if it kills me.”

He looks over when she doesn’t answer. Robin is looking down at her plate.

They’ve had this argument before.

“I’m taking a break,” he says, reaching for her hand. She squeezes, and he squeezes back. “Promise.”

Robin nods. “So,” she says, shaking herself from the momentary tension, “you mentioned one guy was unique. I’m almost afraid to ask.”

He snorts. “Why?”

“I mean, was he like eighty or something? Was he dressed all in latex with one of those gas masks? Did he have two dicks or what?”

Steve laughs, drops her hand to grab a pillow, and throws it at her instead.

Then he tells her.

In as much detail as she can handle, anyway.

“Did you get his number?” Robin asks, and frowns when Steve shakes his head no. “What about a name?”

“It was kind of a rush, an in the moment kind of thing. Wasn’t really time for a lot of talking.”

“Oh my God, Steve.”

And then, his best friend in the entire world has an absolutely batshit idea.

He gets the call sheet from his favorite producer, an easy going older man with decades of experience in the industry. He doesn’t ask questions.

Three days later, Steve's got a list of three-hundred-and-sixty-eight names, including himself and the crew. Beneath the call sheet is a packet of numbers and addresses.

It might be a crazy idea…but Steve’s one of the world’s leading gay adult film stars. He can afford to be a little crazy.

So when his sabbatical officially begins, Steve starts calling.

The first thing he tries is going down to number one-ninety-eight. That makes sense, and even Robin had agreed.

But the man who answered was a fifty with a slightly higher voice than he remembers. He quickly thanked Steve for the experience, and the paycheck, but explained he didn’t have any tattoos. He was afraid of needles.

Steve huffs, crossing the name and number off.

His guy was definitely younger than that, had a deep, smooth voice. Had ink that looked homemade from a glance.

The list he has is in no discernible order. It’s neither numerical nor alphabetical. He checks the first few addresses and finds it has nothing to do with location, either.

So he calls each and every single person. Actually blocks out time to do it around breaks and lunch, time spent with Robin which they both agree is long overdue.

After a week and a half of calls, Robin drags him to the beach for an afternoon of sunbathing and people watching.

“I don’t know, Robin. I already crossed off the guys I know, the ones I’ve seen in other projects. But I’ve still got over a hundred people left.”

“Says the guy who wanted to bang over three hundred guys. This is your own fault.”

“I know,” he agrees, swirling his fingers through the sand. “I’m just…I don’t know. Worried, I guess.”

“Why?”

“What if he thinks I’m a freak for tracking him down? What if he wants nothing to do with me?”

Robin snorts. He looks her way, sees her nose and cheeks are red from the sun despite her large sunhat. Her toes are dug into the sand, and the book she’d been reading lays forgotten on her stomach.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Steve. From what you told me, it sounded like he had a little crush.”

“Yeah, but that could have been my filmography talking. Lot of guys say I’m on their shortlist of dream lays. It’s like a fantasy thing for them.”

“Disgusting. Absolutely abhorrent,” she says easily. “But you said your guy was different. You think it was just an act?”

“I couldn’t tell. He seemed…sweet. If that makes sense?” Steve shrugs, hands her the bottle of sunscreen. “You need another layer. You’re turning into a tomato, birdie.”

She cups her hands, and he squeezes a dollop out. As she rubs the lotion into her skin, she seems to consider what he’s said.

“How sweet can an actor in a gangbang be?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Then you have to keep at it. You have to keep calling until you find him. You may strike out more often than not when it comes to dating, but you have, like, a good good people radar.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, you naturally attract decent people,” Robin says, smiling. “Take me, for example! I’m the best person you know.”

Heat climbs his face, settling at the tips of his ears. He sinks further into the beach foldout, embarrassed for a reason he can’t name. Robin’s smile turns knowing before softening into something closer to friendly pity.

Robin drops her book in the sand and stands, grabs Steve’s hand and starts pulling him toward the water’s edge.

“Come on, sourpuss, let’s go swim!”

He’s down to five people.

The phone numbers they gave were either disconnected or, more likely, fake. So he has no choice, really.

He decides to fully embrace his apparent new level of creepy stalker and physically visits their listed address.

The first three people are surprised but happy to see him, and he ends up sharing beers with two of them, but all three are very clearly not the person he’s looking for. The fourth is nice enough, if wary, but is in his forties and is trans. Is all too happy to show Steve the strap he used on the day. So that rules him out.

There’s one address left, and honestly Steve had been hoping it was a fluke. A mistake.

Because the address is in Hawkins, Indiana. His hometown.

He never chose a stage name, a mistake that many a producer and actor used to lecture him on in the first couple of years he was in the business. But he made it his own. It worked. His parents haven’t contacted him since he was kicked out, so if they know about his career choice, Steve isn’t aware. He prefers it that way.

He always imagined he’d send them a photo of him smiling with his AVN award when he finally won. A final, brief fuck you and career announcement all in one.

Needless to say he hasn’t been back to Hawkins once since he moved to LA. And though he isn’t shy about his legal name, Steve has never discussed his past, his childhood. Nobody in the industry that is legally allowed to discuss his association with Hawkins never has, because they simply don’t know.

Steve’s honestly a bit surprised nobody he used to know has reached out in the last five years. He knows Tommy at least frequented the sites his agency posts to. Nowadays, gay and straight films can be found in the same tags, same pages. Even if someone didn’t go looking for gay porn, they still might have come across Steve in something. An ad, even.

But no, nothing.

He’s not ashamed of what he does. He hasn’t actively avoided his past or anything. If anything, he’s simply strived to not care about it. It doesn’t matter. He hasn’t seen a Hawkins address in years.

Until now.

It’s weird. Could be some kind of underhanded prank. Maybe he should call his lawyer and tell him to expect some sort of blackmail soon.

The last four have led him to the neighboring cities around Los Angeles, but he’s not had to leave California yet. And being back in Indiana has him off his feet. Wrongfooted in some small way that leaves him feeling like a stranger. An impersonator.

He left small town life behind and made it big in a way that would have had every gossiping homebody’s heads turning if they knew.

Half expects to burst into flame the second he steps foot within city bounds.

But nothing happens. His rental car keeps driving. The turn off the highway is familiar, second nature.

He pulls into Hawkins and follows the directions parroted to him by his GPS. He notices several new fast-food places, the old mall has been redone, some houses seem bigger–but it’s still the same small, old town.

He comes to a crossroads. Left to Forest Hills Trailer Park where he’s never been, or right to what would eventually lead to Loch Nora and his childhood home.

He takes a left.

The trailer park isn’t huge, but each home has a small yard. He drives through a winding road that’s half gravel until he finds number fifty-three.

He parks, gets out and stands. Butterflies swarm his stomach, his palms sweating.

Steve gives himself a silent pep talk and walks up the short drive to the front door.

He knocks twice and waits.

It’s getting colder in Indiana. A few more weeks and there might be the first fall of snow. Back in California it was eighty-six degrees when he boarded the plane. He shivers.

Steve jumps a little when the door opens, the screen between him and an older man who frowns down at him.

“And who are you?”

“Hi! Hello. My name is Steve. I, um. Is there a Wayne Munson here by any chance?”

Steve steadies himself, tries to calm his rising nerves. He steps back to make room as the man opens the screen door and steps out into the early afternoon light.

“That would be me, son. Can I help you? You look a little lost.”

It’s not him.

Not his guy.

Steve’s stomach drops. Feels a little sick to his stomach.

The voice isn’t the same. It’s low, sure, but rougher with age. And Steve remembers the tickle of long hair along his skin. This man, Wayne Munson, is balding.

Unless he wore a wig…then, maybe…

He rechecks that this trailer is indeed number fifty-three.

“No, I uh. This is the place. This is going to sound strange, but I don’t suppose you have any tattoos?”

Wayne huffs. He pulls up his sleeve and shows Steve a faded old tattoo, a blue cross with blown out edges.

“Just the one.”

Steve nods, disheartened. “I see. Okay. I, uh, thanks for your time. I’ll just go–”

He turns, feeling foolish.

“Kid, wait a minute. Come on inside and warm up. You drink coffee?”

Steve debates. He’s cold, sure, but that’s an issue fixed by turning around and driving back to the airport to hop on a plane back to California.

Staying could turn out badly. Hawkins was never friendly to outsiders, and the rumor mill sprinted when it came to talk of things like sin and violating the good word of the Lord.

Steve’s pretty sure being a porn star is hidden somewhere in there.

And it was never a secret in backwoods like these people tended to dole out their own justice. Some kids were killed in Indy for being gay and working corners. Why not here, in the home of a man Steve doesn’t know?

He puts on his best smile. “That would be great, sir.”

The man drops his eyes to the ground, waves a hand at him. “Please, enough of that. I’m just Wayne. Always have been, always will be. Come on in, it’s not getting any warmer out here.”

Steve shuffles inside, thanking him. “Looks ready to snow soon.”

“Ah, another week or two I think. You from around here?”

“Used to be,” Steve says as Wayne gestures for him to sit on a stool at the kitchen counter. “I moved to California a few years back.”

“Hm.” Wayne starts a fresh pot of coffee, old-fashioned kettle on the stove. Steve’s grown used to his Keurig. “Big place compared to here. How d’you like it?”

“It’s busy. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I imagine there’s always something for doing.”

Steve nods. “You’re right.”

“What d’you do for work out there? I’ve heard it’s all tech companies and wannabe actors.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Well, actually…I’m an actor.”

“Ah, geez. Don’t mind me, it’s the stereotype.”

“No offense taken,” Steve says. “It’s kind of the reason I’m here.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I had this big, uh. Film. Scene. A big scene. It required a lot of background actors. Extras, you know?” Wayne nods. Steve is flubbing this big time, Christ. “I kind of hit it off with one of the–one of them. Fell a little in love if I’m being honest. My best friend, she had this crazy idea to get the call sheet and go down the list to see if I could find him.”

Wayne’s eyes go a little wide and it’s only when the kettle starts whistling that Steve realizes his slip up.

But Wayne beats him to it. He takes the kettle off the burner and starts fixing two cups of coffee. Says, “Young love’s hard to come by, kid. I’ve been telling my boy for years now, if ya find somebody worth chasing, you run. Doesn’t matter the obstacles, if they’re a boy or girl. Just run to em.”

“That’s…that’s really good advice,” Steve mutters, surprised and relieved when Wayne doesn’t seem to have a problem with him. “Means a lot, being from here.”

“Me, I’m from back south, but Hawkins is home. Strange as it is to hear, this town’s actually progressive compared to where I grew up. But there’s still work to do, that’s for damn sure.”

Wayne reaches into a cabinet and brings down a bottle of liquor Steve recognizes all too well. Good quality bourbon. Steve doesn’t miss the healthy pour that goes into each mug.

“Good for warmin’ up,” Wayne says as he passes one mug to Steve. He goes for the fridge next and pulls out a half eaten chocolate cake. “You fancy a piece? My boy whipped it up, but I told him like hell he expects me to finish it on my own.”

“Oh, I don’t want to take up your time–”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Wayne cuts in, smiling in a way his parents never did. Kind, warm. Real.

Steve relaxes the rest of the way, the tension leaving him all at once. Wayne Munson’s a good guy.

“I’d love one.”

“...and I told my boy, I said, if music is what you wanna do, you go and do it. Convinced him to get his GED and get out of dodge. School was never much of a Munson family pastime, anyway.”

“God, yeah. I hated school. I barely graduated, and that was still a few months after I got kicked out.”

Wayne shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. They’re sitting on the front porch, watching the sun begin its slow descent. Steve almost forgot how pretty Indiana skies could be.

“I knew your folks, y’know. Back in high school. Forgive me for saying it, but your father was a real piece of work.”

Steve can’t help the bitter sound that leaves him. “Trust me, I know.”

“Can’t stand a parent dumping their kid on the world like that. More like dumping the world on their kid. Real life is tough shit. If you love your children, you don’t just abandon them to figure it out for themselves.”

Steve hums. Takes a chance. “It sounds like you’re talking from experience?”

Wayne scowls out into the distance. “It was just me and Al for a long time. Our parents weren’t around much, and when they were they weren’t the best. We all did what we could.” He shakes his head again, meets Steve’s eyes. “Just a shame Al turned out exactly like our old man. Couldn’t spot respectable if it bit him on the balls.”

Steve laughs again.

Wayne lifts his beer and points out to the gravel road. “‘Bout time!”

Steve looks out and watches an old beat-up van wind down the road, music getting louder the closer it gets.

“You’ve got company! You should have said. You’ve been so kind, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Wayne tells him good-naturedly. “That’s just my boy. Owes me dinner since I’ve cooked the last few.” Adds when the van is parking behind Steve’s rental, “You should stick around for supper. He makes a mean lasagna.”

“I really should…”

Then Steve sees him.

Wayne’s boy, who he’d assumed at first was his son but learned was the nephew he took in after his brother fucked up somewhere along the way.

Steve’s throat goes dry.

The music cuts off as the van door opens and out hops a man with wild black curls tied up into a mess of a bun. He’s not even looking their way as he hip checks the door closed and walks back to the double doors. He swings them open, grabs a duffle, many bags of groceries baring the local Krogers logo, and a large glass casserole dish that looks far too fragile to be balancing the way it is. Before he closes the doors again, a large orange tabby hops out and winds around his legs, rubbing and trotting after its owner as he heads up the drive.

“Sorry I’m late, old man. Store was packed, and then Garfield here didn��t want to…Oh.”

He slows when he sees his uncle has company. Stops completely when his eyes land on Steve.

The guy’s young, could be a few years on either side of Steve’s age. He’s wearing all black denim, complete with chains and large belt buckle. His knuckles are tattooed and Steve wonders where else he has them.

And he’s familiar is the thing.

And isn’t that funny?

Because back in school. Steve would play reckless and brash. He’d skip school, get in plenty of fights he always lost. Made friends with the wrong crowd and got into enough trouble. And he would wonder, in the way only a closeted bisexual boy could in the Midwestern US, what it would be like to run away with someone a little older, a little rougher, a little more mean. Someone who knew more about the world. Who didn’t give a shit about kid stuff like Steve used to, like reputation and dating and getting into girls’ pants as much as possible. On being the best all-American athlete he could so others would think, wow, that Steve Harrington sure is going places.

He would wonder, in profound secrecy and silence and repression, what it would be like to kiss someone like the man stood before him under the shade of a tall tree in the woods behind his house. What it might be like to touch another boy and not have to be afraid to death of the idea.

The large cat, Garfield, rubs up along Steve’s legs then. Walks a figure eight between them and yowls to be paid attention to. Steve reaches down to pet between his ears, is vaguely aware of the two other men talking to one another, of Wayne explaining why Steve is here, who Steve even is.

And Steve knows this guy. He does.

He’s got long hair. Tattoos, maybe more hidden away. Has plush lips and flushed cheeks from standing in the cold with arms weighed down by too many things, and, and–

“You’re–”

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, straightens back up and holds out his hand. “Steve Harrington.”

The other man gawks. A bag slips from his fingers and a tub of cream cheese goes rolling right back down the small incline.

“Jesus, boy,” Wayne’s muttering, walking down to help with the groceries. He grabs the serving dish first, then heads for the runaway cream cheese. “Where’d your manners go? Introduce yourself!”

Wayne grumbles as he heads after the thing.

Steve’s hand is grasped, shaken, held. Steve smiles. Wants to roll up the long sleeves to see if he’s covered in the bats he saw during filming.

“I’m Eddie,” Eddie says, breathes really.

And oh wow. Wow.

Steve doesn’t let go, and neither does Eddie.

“I heard you make a mean lasagna.”

A smile splits Eddie’s pretty mouth. “That so? I wonder who said that.”

“Somebody who loves his nephew a whole lot.”

“Huh, no idea. Could you clue me in?”

Steve steps closer. “Think a little harder? Maybe you forgot.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says, and though it’s soft, it’s undeniable. “Always forgetting things, that’s me.”

It’s him.

Wayne passes them by again, taking another bag from Eddie’s hands. Eddie sets the rest down at their feet, sparkling, dark eyes never leaving Steve’s.

“Steve here’s an actor. Eddie, weren’t you telling me you had a gig down in LA with the band a few weeks back? What a coincidence, that.” He keeps walking.

Steve watches him go inside, Garfield hopping happily after him.

When he turns back around, Eddie’s close enough he can feel his breath.

Steve glances at his lips. Sees them bend with amusement.

“It’s funny.”

“What is?”

“King Steve, here in my uncle’s humble abode. What a surprise.”

King Steve is as close a moniker he’s ever received working in the industry. An irony that’s followed him from high school into adulthood, even though the two weren’t connected.

And something inside Steve breaks apart, blooms, shines.

It’s him.

Eddie reaches up, traces a thumb along his bottom lip.

“I think we’ve met.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Care to stay for some homemade cooking, your liege? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

The thumb at his lip dips, goes inside his mouth, briefly makes contact with Steve’s tongue. He wants to suck on it, wants to do a whole lot more.

“We definitely do.”

Eddie’s hand falls away. He picks up a few bags and lets Steve take the others.

And as Steve follows Eddie Munson, his mystery guy, inside it hits him all at once. A punch to the solar plexus.

Just knew you’d be so good for me. Could tell the first day I ever saw you.

He knows him.

You showed LA who’s king.

Not just from the shoot.

“Oh my God, I know you! We know each other!”

Eddie Munson, the guy who walked over lunch tables and caused a scene. The guy Tommy shoved into lockers. The guy who dealt at every party. The guy who wore denim and leather and was in a band. The guy Steve watched, who watched him right back.

Wanted you forever.

I was actually jealous, and look at us now.

Can’t believe how lucky I am.

I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.

And Steve hurries in after him as Eddie’s knowing, familiar laughter leads the way.

#steddie #steddieedit #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #boltedfruit fic #ficlet #one shot fic #one shot #steddie fic

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e-dubbc11 · 5 months ago

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Hello Fall!! (It’s also my birthday month)500 Follower Celebration!

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest//Google.

Greetings and salutations my darling friends!

As you gathered from the title, I have reached the milestone of 500 lovely friends AND it is also my birthday month (it’s the 29th, write that down. Kidding, I’m kidding!) Anyway, I thought it would be fun to do a little celebration. It’s also my favorite time of year, it’s filled with apple picking, cider, pretty leaves, Halloween, all things flannel and all things cozy.

🍂🍁🥮🍺☕️👢🍿🍁🍂🥮🍺

For those that have followed me for awhile and participated in one of these before, I’ll leave my rules under the cut and thank you all so much for your friendships, kind words and continued support. It really means so much to me 💕

So you know the drill by now but if you don’t, here’s the deal…I love doing these but I need you help so please like and reblog this post. I don’t bite so if you feel like sending something in, please go for it!

You don’t HAVE to follow me to participate but I would love it if you did!

Send in as many as you’d like

My very handsome men that I write for are Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Brock Rumlow, Dean Winchester, and a little bit for Donald Pierce and Leo Barnes

Autumn Vibes Are Very Welcome

Send me your character crush, a Fall activity, and I’ll make a moodboard for you (mutuals only for this one, please)

My Favorite Color is Fall

Send me your ideal date night scenario with the fictional character of your choice along with your skin tone, eye color, hair color plus a little description of your style and I’ll do your makeup and pick an outfit for your date. Also tell me any colors you like and/or dislike.

Cake, Candles, and Lots of Smiles

Since it is my birthday month, I’ll leave some birthday prompts under this…

Birthday Cute

Birthday Fluff

Time To Celebrate

November Rain

I love music and I love when I get inspired to write something based off of a song so send me a song and a character and I’ll try and write something based off of it

Embracing Another Year of Beautiful Chaos

Tell me your favorite birthday memory

Ask for my top 5 anything

Ask anything you’d like to know about my fics

Fall-ing In Love

Pick a fic of mine and I’ll write a particular scene from the other character’s POV

If you think any of my one shots need a second part, let me know!

My on-going series are always on the table for new parts. You can combine that with any prompt you come across

Send me a gif (can be smexy, fluffy, angsty, etc)…and I’ll try and write something based off of it

As per usual, I’ll leave some prompt lists below but you’re not limited to just these. If you find a prompt you like, send it on over.

Soft Spooky Prompts

Halloween-ish Dialogue Prompts

Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Fluff

Protective Prompts

Lazy Mornings

Again, thank you all SO much for following me, I love you all and I look forward to your asks! 💕

I’ll Keep This Open Until 9/20 CLOSED

Tagging some of my lovelies that might be interested: @munsonownsmyass @music-indie-tv @k-marzolf @kayhi808 @fluffyprettykitty @ittybxttykxttytxtty @itwasthereaminuteago @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @jvanilly @stoneyggirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @snowkestrel @ilovewhiteroses @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @danzer8705 @rachlovesactors @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @nutmeg17 @nekoannie-chan @vaguekayla @freshabogados @wonderland2425

#ericca’s 500 follower celebration #thank you!!#lovely friends #really and truly thank you #happy birthday to me

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hiro--aoki · 8 months ago

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sharing is caring, you give me the hoodie, a fluff w rosita and g/n reader please!!! would love to see some of your writing 🫶🏻

Mine

Rosita X G/N reader fluff prompt: “Sharing is caring, you give me the hoodie.”

A/N: I loved writing this one, it's just so cute. Anyways I'm now starting a Daryl and Carol angst fic. Before I go: Happy Pride month ya'll!!! <3

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

You had always been the physical affection type. Rosita knew that from the start. She had her warning and she ignore it. Usually, your touchiness was never a problem because, low and behold, Rosita would often enjoy it, but on occasions were supply runs didn’t go perfectly, days after Negan took his haul or just plain bad days, Rosita would get a bit…grumpy. She would distance herself a bit, not mentally or emotionally, but physically. She knew that on days where she was in one of her moods, she would get set off easily and the last thing she wanted on days like these, was a lecture from Rick and a week on gardening duty.

It was towards the middle of winter, so the people of Alexandria were stressing since they couldn’t scavenge or grow enough supplies for Negan and his bunch of screwed up disciples. They had sent out more groups on supply runs and the occasional group to the Hilltop or the Kingdom to see if they could trade anything for supplies. Which is what Rosita’s group had gone to today. Rosita, y/n, Daryl, Aaron, and some other random person from Alexandria that Rosita had trained. By her luck, they were heading home empty handed.

Rosita was walking a good four meters or so in front of the group, silently. While Daryl, Aaron and the rando decided to let her have her space, y/n had other plans. Y/n quickened their pace and was soon walking in sync, beside her. They knew their plan would either end with a punch to the face or a calmer and more relaxed trip home.

“Hey Rosi!”

Silence in return. You can’t say your surprised. You keep walking along side her, watching as your steps fall in line. A soft, cold breeze blue over the group and you shudder slightly. You had a coat on but it’s hard to find a jacket thick enough to completely keep out the cold of the Virginian winters. You watch as your cold breath disappears in the thin fog of the woods. You’re slightly stunned as you feel the weight of Rosita’s jacket over your shoulders. You turn you head to Rosita with a confused look.

Before you can ask anything, she says, “Are you warmer?”

“I mean, yeah, but aren’t you gonna freeze?” You glance at her bare shoulders.

“I’ll be fine. We can’t have you freezing to death, can we?” She answers nonchalantly.

“…I guess not.”

You walk in silence again, for another few minutes. You look up as you feel a snowflake land on your nose. The first snow of the season. Now scavenging and trade trips could become nearly impossible. Before your worried thoughts could grow anymore, you feel Rosita wrap her arms around your waist and nuzzle her face into your neck. She’s shivering.

“Rosi, take your jacket back, you’ll catch a chill.”

She shakes her head in her usual stubborn manner.

“Rosi please, for me?”

She groans as you pull off her jacket, the cold air hitting your warm skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You practically have to put the jacket on her.

“Come on Rosi, stop being stubborn for five seconds. Please.”

Finally, she pulls on the jacket.

“Thanks Rosi.”

You start to skip ahead of the group, but stop and turn.

“By the way, when we get home, I’m stealing your hoodie.”

Bonus: It had been a hard day doing supply runs for Rosita. Walkers had come and screwed everything up, like they always do, meaning the group she went with, came home with jack shit. She barged into the house, making sure to be as quiet as possible, in case you were asleep. She glanced around the room where you usually waited for here to come home. The room was dark as the lights were off and the curtains were drawn.

“Y/n, I’m home!” She called, taking off her boots, still glancing around the room for the chance that she had missed you.

You weren’t there.

“Y/n?”

She moves around the room, checking every spot you could be hiding in. You are nowhere in sight. She rushes upstairs to your shared bedroom.

“Y/N?!” Rosita asks again, more distressed.

She barely glances around the room, before she’s tackled onto the bed. She lets out a yelp as her and her attacker fall onto the bed. Just as she’s about to attack back, a face pops up right in front hers, pressing a small kiss on her nose. Rosita’s stunned for a second before recognition washes over her.

“Y/N!” She smiles softly, wrapping her arms around you, tightly.

“I can’t…I can’t breathe!” You squeak.

“Right, sorry…is that my hoodie?” She laughs softly pulling the clothe out of your hands.

You try to grab it back like a small child.

“Sharing is caring, now give me the hoodie,” you whine.

She laughs again and tosses the hoodie to you. You let out a small giggle as you fumble to put it on. She tugs on the bottom to help pull it over your head. Your pops out like a meerkat with your usual stupidishly wide grin. Rosita looks at you with a soft look of admiration. You crawl over to her and flop down on her lap, snuggling up to her, The safest spot in Alexandria.

#the walking dead #twd #back off enid #rosita twd #rosita x reader #rosita espinosa #rosita x g/n reader

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hergrandplan · 7 months ago

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👀

Haunt Me

Hi! Thank you so much for sending this in.

Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character watching over another [as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]

Send me a prompt and I will write a drabble fic

the 👀 makes me think you wanted angst but I got this idea and couldn't let it go... so how about some tooth rotting fluff and Wille being so in love with his boyfriend instead?

Or: Simon is on a world tour and Wille misses him. Luckily, there are always fans livestreaming the show. (This thing is heavily inspired by Taylor Swift, but I hope you like it anyways!) (rated T, 2.2k, nothing but fluff)

Wille lets himself fall down on the big double bed, still in his suit. The only thing he even bothered to take off are his shoes. He doesn’t have any energy for the rest of his clothes.

He’s been in back-to-back meetings all day, each one more pointless than the last. Sometimes, he feels like an overglorified (and overpaid) party planner, when he picks out the color scheme for another charity gala or decides on the menu for a lunch with the prime minister.

It’s moments like these where he thinks that Simon does have a point about how the whole monarchy is just a waste of money.

Of course, they’re not completely pointless – they get things done, things that matter to certain people (usually not to him, but to some people), so he just grunts and bears it and tries not to complain too much about it whenever he talks to Simon.

No matter how pointless the meetings are though, they still leave him utterly exhausted. Which is fine, most of the time, because most of the time Simon will be waiting for him in their apartment, and they’ll curl up on the couch together with takeout while they talk through their day, Simon enthusiastically talking about all the advances he made – songs he’s written, or a release date for his new album, and Wille will be content enough to just listen.

He loves listening to him, whether it’s talking or singing. He also loves the sparkle in his eyes, the way he rushes his words out and the stupid grin he gets on his face that Wille can’t help but kiss.

He loves all of him, and Wille can simply never get enough of him.

But today, Wille didn’t come home to the smell of arepas being made in the kitchen, or soft piano notes echoing through the rooms. He came home to a dark and empty and cold apartment, because his boyfriend is currently on a world tour, playing sold out stadiums night after night. And while Wille is so proud of him for doing that, he also misses him, especially on days like today when everything feels just slightly too much.

Wille reaches for his phone to check the time, holding on to the little bit of hope that Simon isn’t on stage yet and they can call, and he can hear his voice, even if it’s just for one minute.

They try and call as often as they can when one or the other is away, and when Simon’s on tour it’s usuallybefore he goes on stage. But when Wille looks at the time, his heart sinks with the realization that there’s no way he’s going to be able to talk to Simon before the show’s over – he will have just gone on, will have juststarted singing.

Having been at his shows more often than Wille can count, Wille knows exactly what it looks like when Simon comes on stage.

Wille closes his eyes, imagining the stage, lit up in purples and blues (Simon always seems to look extraordinarily beautiful under the purple lights). He imagines the band getting into place, fine tuning their instruments to make sure they’re ready for a solid two hours of playing.

Then, Simon will enter under the sound of shrill guitars and a steady drum. He will run out on the stage, mic in hand, and he will look out over the crowd as the music falls still for a second. His lips will quirk up into a smirk as the crowd holds their breath and then –

He kicks off, voice loud and powerful and filling up every inch of space no matter how big the venue. He has a voice, and he always makes sure it’s heard.

Wille will never tire of that moment. Especially when he’s there, watching him. Because when he’s there, Simon will find inevitably find him in the crowd time and time again. And every time, Wille warmth blooms in Wille’s chest. Because that’s his man, who has the crowd at his fingertips. That’s his man they’re screaming for. And at the end of the show, that’s his man he’ll be going home with.

Wille rolls over in their bed, the one that hasn’t smelled like Simon in a long time, and sighs. Fuck, he misses him. He misses his body pressed against him at night, soft curls tickling his nose. He misses his raspy voice when he’s just woken up, when his brain has yet to fully turn on and he leans in to kiss him, softly and tenderly and lazy in the golden morning glow. He misses their lazy morning kisses, Wille pressing Simon into the mattress, hands wandering everywhere. And yes, he misses the sex – his own hand just doesn’t quite cut it. They do have phone sex, and it’s hot and does the trick, but it isn’t the same. It’s not the same as Simon taking up all his senses.

Wille sits up again and leans back against the headboard. Lying here and missing his boyfriend isn’t going to magic him in bed with him, he knows that. So he does the next best thing, the thing he always does when he misses his boyfriend just slightly too much, like he does tonight: he grabs his laptop.

He watches this so often, that he doesn’t even need to type in SimonErikssonHockeyBro in the search bar anymore; the livestream is the first thing on his for-you page, the algorithm knowing him slightly too well.

One of the biggest perks about Simon’s fame is that he has so many fans that there’s always one or two people livestreaming his concert so that people who don’t have tickets, or boyfriends who just really miss their partner, can enjoy the show too. SimonErikssonHockeyBro, also known as Ryan, tries to find the best livestream every night so people don’t have to go to too much trouble to find one.

Wille initially didn’t tell Simon that this was a thing, that people were doing it. But one night, while they were on the phone after the concert, Wille had accidentally let something slip about the lights glitching, and he had been forced to come clean. (Simon doesn’t mind though, that people are doing this. He believes art should be free anyways, and that he’s glad that people who don’t have the money to see him can at least see it in some capacity. He even asked Wille to make a very sizeable donation to Ryan once, and Wille had made sure he was screen recording when Ryan received it so Simon could see how he almost fell off his chair once he saw the few hundred dollars come in).

Wille clicks into the live stream. Simon has just started on the third song on the setlist, a personal favorite of Wille’s called ‘All the Best’. It’s an electric song, something you can’t help but dance to, and that’s exactly what the crowd is doing. From his spot on the bed, Wille is nodding along too.

He’s doesn’t get up to dance though – no, because that would mean taking his eyes away from the screen when all he wants to do is watch Simon as he jumps around on stage while somehow keeping his voice as steady as ever, never sounding out of breath (Wille will always be in awe of his boyfriend’s talent to do that).

45 minutes pass while Wille’s eyes are glued to the screen. He laughs as Simon cracks jokes about the signs he sees and feels tears burn when Simon plays love song, and he swears he can see Simon’s eyes turn just a bit red too. All the while, he feels so, so proud of his boyfriend. He’s standing in a sold out arena in Paris of all places, the crowd singing along to every song at the top of their lungs. Simon looks so happy on the stage, smiling pretty the whole time as he looks out into the crowd time and time again.

He made his dream come true, and Wille was there every step of the way. And if that means that they have to spend time apart sometimes? That they have to spend entire weeks miles away from each other? Well, then so be it. Simon is living his dream, and that’s all that matters.

Meanwhile, on the stage, Simon’s band members have gone off, leaving Simon alone. The lights have turned warmer, into a soft yellow. The lights sharpen his face, and Wille is once again struck by how gorgeous he is.

There’s a piano on stage, and a guitar next to it. Simon grabs the guitar and walks back to the mic stand.

“Bonjour Paris!” he says, beaming while looking out over the crowd. “And welcome to the acoustic section!”

In the corner of his eye, the comment section of the livestream is exploding with guesses as to what Simon might play today.

The acoustic section is something he started doing a while back as a way to make every show slightly unique. He’ll play a song that’s not on the setlist, one on guitar, and one on piano, and bask in how the crowd takes everything in.

It’s Wille’s favorite moment of the whole show.

Simon launches into the first of the acoustic song, playing an uptempo tune as he sways along, completely taken over by the music. It’s a fairly old one, something from his first album, but the crowd still knows every word anyways.

After that’s done, and the crowd has stopped clapping and screaming, Simon goes to sit behind the piano.

“Now, this next one… this next one is a bit special to me. Well, I always try to make the songs special, try to come up with what I think you’d like to hear most of all. But tonight, I wanted to play something I haven’t sang in a hot minute, because I have yet to play this song without crying.” The crowd gives their sympathy with a resounding aww, and Simon chuckles.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a sad song. It’s a very happy song, actually. It’s about being in love and finding your person, the one you’d move heaven and hell for – and realizing they’d do the same for you. It’s about that moment where you realize that this, what you’ve got, is it. So this is for my person, who isn’t here tonight, but I miss him, and wanted to play it anyways.”

Simon plays the first notes, and Wille recognizes the song instantly. His mouth falls open as he keeps staring at the screen, watching his boyfriend lean closer to the mic. His voice rings out like an angel, soft and clear and tender.

Wille doesn’t hold back when the tears start to falling. He’s alone in his room so no one will see them. No one will hear him cry because Simon is playing the first song he ever wrote about them as a couple, a few months after they’d gotten back together.

The song he wrote one summer night, while Wille was sat there right next to him giving him feedback. He’s not credited on the track list, but they wrote it together.

This, more than anything else, is their song.

Wille’s so in love in this moment, as he watches Simon play, eyes closed, that he feels like he genuinely might stop breathing.

When the song ends, Simon throws his head back as the crowd erupts into the loudest cheer of the whole night, something that goes on for minutes.

But Wille sees how there’s a single tear rolling down his cheek, and now, more than ever, he wishes he could be there with Simon. That after the show, he’d be able to fall into him and fall into place with him and never let him go.

Wille is in a complete trance for the rest of the show, barely registering what’s really happening on stage, only marvelling at Simon. How did he ever get so lucky to spend the rest of forever with this angel? Who’s out there, singing that song on the night when Wille missed him so much?

It’s only when the show’s over, the livestream ended, that he jolts back to reality.

He needs to make dinner. He needs to make dinner, because he hasn’t eaten yet and he wants to do so before Simon calls him.

Because Simon will call him. Simon will call him as soon as everything’s packed up, and as soon as photos with some lucky fans have been taken. He will call him, and Wille will tell him how wonderful he was, how beautiful he looked, how much he loves him. Simon will say it back, will say how much he misses him too. He will talk excitedly about how great the show was, how thrilling the crowd, but how it would have been a million times better if Wille had been there.

While on the phone with Simon, Wille will text Farima to arrange a flight to Paris for the next day.

#if you catch all the taylor swift references #ily #young royals #yr fanfic #yr fic #yr fanfiction #young royals fanfiction #young royals fanfic #young royals fic #young royals archive #wilmon #wilmon fanfiction #prince wilhelm #wilhelm eriksson now?#simon eriksson

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chil-aglia · 16 days ago

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(I really need to start spell and word checking these things. And this is for Adriaen and Ronin)

🍵

So, you may be wondering why you are here again

🍵

What do you think of Leo?

ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵃˡᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵐᵉ?

GET BACK TO WORK, TWINK

ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵐᵃ��... (Actually, it's two but were not at The Hidden City Job yet)

Anyway, what do you think? And be honest. ᴮᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵇᵉᵗ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᴰᵒⁿⁿᶦᵉ ᵍᵒᶦⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ.

(I found a song that I thought Echo and Ronin would vibe with. Or just Ronin. https://open.spotify.com/track/08KTQSs3ickNki7FFTb6fY

And my ADHD is making me hyperfixate on your OCs. First it was Adriaen and now it's Ronin. I can't wait for Gio's turn.

At first, Echo was going to be by themself in their part of "Tales of the Hidden City" but now I want Echo to help Ronin on a job and get caught and arrested. You don't have to take this as prompt but I guess it has a bit of potential as a Reader X)

Adriaen blinks, a little wide eyed at the question. “Um…Leo is fine?” He replies, sounding a little confused himself. Even though he couldn’t tell if anyone was watching him, he still felt eyes on him. Making him feel a little self-conscious as he shifted slightly in the chair. “Okay, okay! I’ll give you more….in depth answer.” He sighs, leaning slightly on the table as he stared at the camera. “Leo is….well, he’s an annoying idiot for starters.” He huffs in little amusement before softening his eyes, “But he’s important to me. He found me as a little kid and brought me to his family. If weren’t for him, well, I’d probably be dead.” He lays his head slightly down on his arms that he brought up to rest on the table. “He’s just…I don’t know, he’s important to me. Helps me when I get mad, when I’m stressed. Scared….” He mumbled as he realised, he was slightly trailing off. He blushed slightly in embarrassment and shakes his head to focus. “Well, that’s the best answer I can give.”

Thank you, Adriaen. You’re free to leave.

Adriaen gets to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. He walks but stops and turns around to look around the room. “These interviews aren’t shown to the others, right?”

No.

He nods with slight relief, opening the door and leaving.

——————————————————————————————————

Ronin had his elbow on the table, having lean his face against his palm, as his free hand taps against the wood. “What I think of Bluey?” He snorts in amusement, smirking. “He’s fun to rile up.” He informs as he thinks more about the slider, “A little slow on working out his portals but with training and time, I bet he’ll be basically a master at it.” He leans off his palm, staring into the camera with a grin, “But he’s mostly just fun to tease. But I guess I can respect him too; with the whole pirate ship fiasco I was kinda dragged in—“

Didn’t you agree to help him willingly?

“Dragged into. I can see him in a new light. Sort of. He’s insecure, scared. Which I admit, didn’t see that coming. But props to him for being so open with someone he claims he doesn’t like.” Ronin crossed his arms as he leans back into the chair. “I guess that’s my answer? I mean, my mind is kinda all over the place, but for Leo, he’s mostly a joy to watch and poke fun at. Plus, the guy has some serious issues on his whole position in the team.” He stretches out his arms and legs, before smiling lightly into the camera. “Well? Satisfied?”

Thank you, Ronin. You may leave.

Ronin gave a little wave as the feed cuts.

——————————————————————————————————

Also thank you for the song! I was listening to it and realised how much it suits Ronin 😂

Also I’m glad your ADHD brain is getting hyperfixate on my OC’s cause same. I love my boys so much.

Now, for that lil prompt you had below, if you want me to write it as an x reader or even as OC X Ronin, just make sure to send it in as a separate ask with more details to it. And if you want me too make it into an OC and Ronin fic, just like, message me more about your OC so I can get an idea of them!

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #unpause rottmnt #save rottmnt #oc #rottmnt oc #tmnt oc #summon the ocs #rise of the turtles #save rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt oc #rise of tmnt

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iphoenixrising · 4 months ago

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(6am / Prime Girl back with a hit of randomness hehe)

hi babe!! It’s been a long time since I’ve been around ;; I’m sorry about that! I saw your recent post about some health and family things that have been happening, and I am absolutely heartbroken for you. I really really hope that you’re doing well, and that you and kiddo’s year will be able to finish off well!!!<3 ;;

I’m actually back around bc I thought about you when I was driving home from work today and!!! I just really really wanted to come and tell you how much I look up to you as an author and how much you’ve inspired me even after these years since I first found your beautiful works ><

the way you write about emotion and intimacy and how it interweaves in so many different ways is something I think about every time I write something - I always think about the emotions you made me feel with your writing and how wonderful your works are I also post fics on AO3 now, but it’s particularly my ABO fic I wanted to mention to you because I’ve had multiple comments being like ‘I didn’t like abo before this’ or ‘some other fics I read were weird but this one made me give the genre a chance’ and in my head I’m always like OMG THATS HOW I WAS WITH WINTER BABE!! it makes me so SO incredibly happy and I’m always thinking about and am so grateful that you and your wonderful works literally changed not just the genre for me forever and made me ADORE the concept, but showed me that it can relate to love and yearning and intimacy in such incredible ways ㅠㅠ (I also get tons of comments abt people begging for mercy bc they cry every chapter but that’s not the point LOL)

Thank you so so much for being such an amazing author that not only produces beautiful works, but that has always interacted with me so kindly ㅠㅠ I was going through a lot of things when I was reading your works and they always brought me so much comfort (they still do btw!) and really showed me a way of writing that let me escape from my world for a bit and would have me in tears at 6am ><

Anyways, my life is surprisingly busy nowadays and I know yours is too, but I just wanted you to know that this blog will always hold such a special place in my heart and you inspire me always!!! much much love to you and to kiddo! I am seriously wishing you guys all the best, and I’ll try to be around a little sooner than this next time! 🥺

(p.s. IM SO SO SO SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY YOU LIKED THE CEO TIM PROMPT I WAS GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET ECSTATIC THAT YOU ENJOYED MY TAKE ON IT KDNDKDNSKSNKDNDKSMSKSJSK AND YOUR THOUGHTS???? JUST ABSOLUTELY AMAZING AS ALWAYS???? YOUR BRAIN IS AMAZING ISTG I WAS DEAD AND IM JUST SO HAPPY YOU LIKED IT ><)

BABE. Babe <3 I'm so happy to hear you're writing things and it helps you with everyday life. Oh I'm just so, so happy for you. I've missed you as well and everyone else in the Tim Drake fandom, but the fact you're putting works out on Ao3?? You're writing wonderful things?? You're making people cry because you've pulled them out of themselves to feel things?? This is wonderful babe! This is the best news EVER! I'm so proud of you I can't even stand it. Writing is so hard and it can hurt so much to put things out there to people, and you are so, so brave and amazing to find your way. I'm thankful you've found the strength within yourself to do daring things.

Babe. Congratulation.

Send me links, I beg! I beg. I will read ALL THE THINGS AOB.

I still read the fuck out of fanfics but I've moved into BL (my fandom blog is a mess because I love too many of them) instead of DC, but releasing my fics back into the wild might have spurned something, might have brought back the muse a bit, so I might try to give it another go! I've got some very important chapters to things I promised people and maybe it's time I keep those promises. (Because @satire-please deserve a final ending to Dr!Tim).

I even went on the Capes and Coffee Discord just to talk out some ideas and that's a pretty big step to be honest.

But, even tho life is busy and you're moving into new, exciting things and people are rightfully in love with your fics and your brain, I will always have a spot for you here. You can always come back to me and read or talk out ideas or tell me how life is going. I adore you and hope only great things in your journey <3

(YOUR IDEAS ALWAYS INSPIRE I SWEAR I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH BECAUSE THIS THING WAS EASY TO WRITE AT THE TIME AND I STILL FEEL LIKE I COULD FLESH IT OUT MORE SOME DAY)

#winter answers #prime girl #is one of the best babes #writing #ao3 #aob fics #babe is doing things!#we love this

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specialagentlokitty · 11 months ago

Text

Master chief x male!reader - what you make me feel

Hi!👋 Would you be able to write a Master Chief x male reader fic with this prompt "I'm scared to tell you how I really feel, but I think you need to know." Where the reader says it? You don't have to if you don't want to😊 Thank you very much - Anon💜

You had loved every moment of your job, you loved the friends you had made along the way, and some of the beautiful sights you had seen.

If you had to pick a certain thing you enjoyed the most, it would have to be your late night walks.

It may have sounded strange to anybody, but it wasn’t so much the fact of walking that you enjoyed, though everybody did enjoy a good walk.

It was the company you had on the walk that you enjoyed.

Tonight was no different, usually between a particular dangerous mission you would walk around, you wouldn’t be able to sleep, you’d just spend a lot of time thinking about what could happen.

“You’re very quiet tonight.”

You flicked your gaze up to the man beside you, and you smiled a little bit.

“I guess I’m just thinking. I usually do before a big mission, but I’ve never been on one with you guys before. Most of my missions are usually Spartan free.”

John nodded his head.

“You have nothing to worry about.”

“I’ll always worry before a mission. I’ll worry about my squad, you know? Like if something happened to them, and my mom if something happened to me.”

“I see. You send your mother letters every time, correct?”

You smiled brightly at him, turning around to walk backwards.

“Oh yeah, I mean I send her letters all the time but before a mission I always make sure I’ve got a letter written for her. Each time I come back I bin it and write a new one the next time.”

“What do you write in them?”

“Well, I tell her about what I’ve been up to, what I’m allowed to tell her anyway. I’ll tell her about the books I’ve read, and I’ll always remind her that I still play that song she loves on guitar so when I go home I can play it for her again.”

John nodded his head.

“Is that the song you are always playing?”

“Yeah, she fucking loves it, I don’t know why, but it makes her happy so I don’t mind it really. Oh! And she sent me some of those books you were asking for, they’ll be here next week.”

“Tell her I said thank you. I will return them when I’m finished.”

You laughed and shook your head.

“No, John, they’re yours. You can keep them, she got them for you. And a sweater since it’s coming up to winter, she actually sent all the Spartans one so you won’t get cold.”

John rose a questions brow at you, placing his hand on your shoulder so he could guide you around the corner before he let go.

“She’s a little old woman John, let her have this.”

“Well tell her thank you.”

You beamed brightly at him, turning back around so you could carry on looking where you were walking.

“Do you ever get nervous before a mission?” You asked.

“No, why would I?”

“I guess it’s just that thought knowing that we could die at any given point. I mean I know we can anyway, but know I could die out there it’s kind of scary.”

“Why do you keep going?”

“For my mom, for the dream I had as a little boy to explore space.”

John nodded his head, glancing down at you.

“May I ask you something?” He asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“I would like to join you for your holidays again this year, is that okay? I found last year to be rather interesting, I would like to see that again.”

You grinned brightly.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thank you, will I have to wear that paper hat again?”

“My mom loves the whole Christmas aesthetic, you’re definitely going to be wearing the paper hate and an ugly Christmas sweater which will be the most uncomfortable fabric you’ve ever worn.”

He nodded his head.

“What did you write in your letter for your mother this year?”

“Well, I told her about some projects I’ve been working on, again about that song she loves, I also told her about my pay rise, and the fact I’ve fallen in love with somebody, since she asks every single time we speak.”

“Oh?”

You smiled a little to yourself.

“Yeah, I’ve not said anything yet though. I don’t know if it’s too soon, so I thought I’d wait until after the mission, then say something.”

“Would it not make more sense to say something beforehand?”

“Maybe, but I don’t want the worry of what this person will while I’m out there, I can’t be distracted.”

You stopped by the door of your quarters, and you grinned up at him.

“Anyways, I’m going to try sleep. Later John.”

“Goodnight.”

John made his way back down the hallway while you went to try and get some sleep before the mission.

In the morning you pulled your uniform on, made sure to leave the letter neatly on your desk in case anything happened to you.

Pulling your helmet on you joined your squad to get the mission started.

Everything seemed to be going well, so far you had all managed to stick to your schedule, everything going as planned.

Of course that’s when things had to go wrong, the Coventry got the jump on you.

You all began taking heavy fire, and you were hiding behind some buildings, barking out orders to your squad while John was doing the same thing next to you.

“Focus on the evacuation, we’ll handle the Coventry.” He said.

You nodded your head, patting your hand on the stomach of his armour.

“Be safe.”

With that, you jogged away behind some buildings to help your people evacuate the citizens to the safe zone so they could be taken away.

You had already taken a couple of trips when you heard the cries from some people stuck in a building.

Looking around, you found the small back door had been covered by fallen debris and you rushed over, trying to pry them apart but you couldn’t.

You pressed the comm on your vest.

“I need one of the Spartans, Cortana send my location to them.”

You carried on trying to get the large rock aside, and a minute later there was somebody next to you to help.

John easily moved the rock aside, and you ushered everybody away to a few of your squad.

“I’ll check inside.”

“Be quick.” John said.

You nodded, making your way inside, gun raised as you carried on looking through the rooms one by one.

The ground shook a little and you paused, then you carried on going, and it shook a lot more.

“Let’s go!” John called.

“On my way!”

You jogged back down the stairs, back towards the back door where John was waiting for you, and another tremble shook the ground, this time knocking you over, cracks filled the walls, and before you could roll over there was debris falling everywhere.

“(Y/N)!”

John ran inside, debris bouncing off his armour.

He crouched over you, and you breathed shakily.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You slowly nodded your head, and you brushed some of the dust from your face.

“I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes…”

The trembling finally stopped and he slowly stood up, carefully not to drop any of the debris on you.

John held his hand out, and you let him help pull you up.

“We need to go.”

“Yeah, let’s move.” You replied.

Both of you made your way out, and you looked around before making your way to the safe zone.

“You know, I think I realised something back there…” you mumbled.

John glanced down at you, then back to where he was looking.

“What’s that?” He asked.

You made sure you comma were turned off, gesturing for him to do the same thing which he did.

"I'm scared to tell you how I really feel, but I think you need to know."

John froze for a second before he carried on walking.

“I love you, I get you might not know anything about that, or what to do or say or whatever and that’s cool, you don’t have to know. I.. I just thought I should put it out there.” You said quietly.

John didn’t reply, and you sighed a little bit.

“Evacuation is complete, let’s go, now.” John ordered.

Everybody filed into their respective aircraft’s, and you did the same thing, standing at the doors as they went up.

You stumbled back a little bit.

“Cap, you good?” Someone asked.

You nodded your head, and you went to run your hand up and down your side, when you stopped, finding that your uniform was soaked.

You pulled your hand away, seeing the red on your skin.

“Oh for shit sake..”

You stumbled back again, two of your men catching you, and they lowered you to the ground slowly putting pressure on your wound.

“There’s some metal in there.” One of the guys said.

“We’ll do that we can until we’re back, just hang in there cap.” The other said quietly.

You slowly nodded your head, trying to focus on your breathing and not the pain that was slowly washing over you.

Your men did whatever they could there and then, they took your vest off, cut your shirt, they tried to get a better view of the wound but it wasn’t safe to remove the metal.

Instead, then focused on packing the wound to trying and stop you from bleeding out, trying to keep you awake, but you were slowly fading.

They didn’t know much blood you had lost.

“He’s got internal bleeding, we need to go, now!” One of them snapped.

“We’re nearly there!” Another called.

One of the guys gently slapped your face, and you groaned a little, turning your head away from him.

“Come on cap, I know you’ve got a little more fight in you.” He said.

You mumbled something he couldn’t understand, and he wiped the blood from the corner of your mouth on his sleeve.

“We’re gonna get you home and you’ll be alright…”

The aircraft landed, and a team of medics were waiting nearby, as well as the Spartans who were waiting to take over to take the civilians somewhere safe.

Your squad helped you on to a stretcher, and the medics rushed you down with your squad following close behind.

John was walking back with the admiral when he saw the stretcher rushing past, and he caught a glimpse of your face before you were rushed away.

“You’ll be of no use while he is in surgery.” The admiral said, “take them to the agreed upon location then come back.”

John slowly nodded his head, pulling his helmet back on, a sense of urgency in his step as he rushed to aircraft.

He needed to get there and back as soon as possible, he was beating himself up over it, how hadn’t he noticed? How did he miss that? How did cortana miss that?

He felt responsible for the condition you were in, maybe if he was quicker, maybe if he’d noticed sooner he could’ve done something about it, he could’ve helped you

#halo #halo x reader #halo x you #halo imagine #halo the series #John 117 #John 117 x reader #John 117 x you #John 117 imagine #master chief #master chief x reader #master chief x you #master chief imagine

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likecastle · 1 year ago

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another ronance smut prompt for you if you’d like to write it! no pressure if not!!

but literally just robin with a strap

OK, this one's sort of a cheat, because a while back, @crushcandles sent me an ask about exploring the D/s dynamic in Ronance, and I started working on a PWP that did just that, which happened to involve Robin wearing a strap. Then couldn't quite decide how to finish it, and I kind of lost steam. So when I got this ask, I decided to use it as an opportunity to finish that fic. Two birds with one stone, I guess? Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Explicit sex behind the cut. Strap-on sex, including a woman's strap-on being referred to as her "cock." A little bit of reflection on gender and biphobia. D/s, orgasm denial or at least control to some extent, overstimulation. I dunno, there's a lot of sex in this one.

By the time Nancy climbs on top of her, Robin is already desperate. The slide of Nancy’s thighs as she sinks down onto Robin’s strap is smooth as silk, and her weight, slight though she is, adds a tantalizing pressure as the base of the toy pushes against her.

Robin lets go of the strap as Nancy settles herself, circling her hips experimentally with a gratified sigh. Before Robin can even roll her hips, Nancy is lifting up again and sliding back down, fucking herself on Robin’s cock.

There was a time, once, when Robin might have hesitated to call it that. She’s known her share of women who don’t think of things that way, who might, even, consider such a turn of phrase a sort of betrayal. She’s known plenty of women, too, who would be insecure if their girlfriend—especially a girlfriend who used to date men, who was maybe a little too eager to see Eyes Wide Shut because she still hasn’t gotten over her adolescent crush on Tom Cruise—liked getting fucked this way, but Robin loves it.

She loves looking up at Nancy above her, at her small, soft breasts bouncing as she rides Robin’s cock. She loves, too, the way she can put her hands on Nancy’s hips and feel her moving, see her muscles flex under her pale skin. The sight of Nancy slipping a slender hand through her dark thatch of pubic hair to touch her clit is one Robin thinks she could watch forever. She loves how she can feel it when Nancy is about to come, her thighs starting to tremble as she bears down on the pleasure pooling in her hips. Nancy’s curls fall wild around her when she throws her head back, and Robin would have to be an idiot to pass on such a luxury, to say nothing of the lean column of her neck, her wet and parting lips. And perhaps most of all, she loves feeling Nancy use her for her own gratification, the way she won’t stop until she’s satisfied and there’s nothing Robin can do but keep giving it to her.

Still shivering from her orgasm, breath hectic in her chest, Nancy leans down to capture Robin’s lips in a kiss. “You feel so good inside me,” she says. “If you fuck me just right, sweetheart, maybe I’ll let you come, too.”

A moan punches out of Robin, her cunt clenching hard between her legs. Nancy licks into Robin’s open mouth, a teasing flick of her tongue that makes Robin’s hips buck. Nancy is so wicked like this, all cruel mischief and selfish self-gratification—dangling what Robin wants right in front of her, always holding it just out of reach.

“Do you want to come tonight?” Nancy murmurs, lips still close enough that Robin can almost taste another kiss.

Robin groans and nods her head.

Nancy draws back enough so that Robin can see her smirk. “Do you think you can do it?” She circles her hips again to remind Robin of the pressure of the strap—close to her clit but not quite near enough to get her off. “Can you fuck me well enough to earn it?”

“Uh-huh,” Robin moans, so desperate for her—to make her happy, to make her come, to take whatever Nancy will give her.

“All right, then,” Nancy says. She leans in close, so that their bodies are almost flush, and presses Robin’s wrists to the mattress, which sends a hot flush of need through Robin from scalp to toes. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The rhythm Nancy sets this time is punishingly fast, fucking herself on Robin’s cock as quick as she can. Robin rises to meet her, snapping her hips hard enough to make Nancy cry out. Robin is drenched in sweat within moments, the muscles in her belly shaking with the effort of keeping up with Nancy’s pace. But, god, the sight of her when Robin fucks her is worth it. Even if Nancy decides she doesn’t deserve to come tonight, it’ll be everything Robin needs just to watch her like this. She’s so serious, chasing her orgasm like she pursues anything she wants—recklessly, relentlessly, without hesitation. And the stunned pleasure that breaks across her face as Robin grinds her cock into her just right is so gratifying. Robin did that to her. Robin can give her what she needs.

Robin wants to get her hands on Nancy, but Nancy’s grip is firm on Robin’s wrists. The moment she tries to lift an arm, Nancy redoubles the pressure against the mattress. “Don’t you want to be good for me?”

The question makes Robin groan, cunt clenching between her braced legs. She does want to be good for Nancy, always, always, but, god, she also wants to come.

“Tell me,” Nancy says, rocking herself rough and shallow to meet Robin’s thrusts. “Tell me what you want.”

Right now, it’s all Robin can do to breathe. Talking—let alone in full sentences—feels like asking too much. But it’s Nancy who’s asking, so she tries to focus. “Wanna fuck you till you can’t stop coming.” She’s not even sure that makes sense, but Nancy moans above her and kisses her encouragingly.

“What else?” she gasps.

Robin can tell from the breathless note in Nancy’s voice that she’s close again. She’s letting the close clench of their bodies help her along, rubbing herself off against Robin’s hips, and it makes Robin weak to feel Nancy using her like that. Robin likes to be of use.

“What else,” Nancy asks sharply, and, fuck, Robin was supposed to be talking.

“Wanna make you come,” she hurries to say, tongue-tied with lust. “Wanna give you what you want, all of it, till you can’t take it anymore. Wanna taste it on you, how good you feel, how well I made you come.”

Nancy comes with a shout, the way she used to be self-conscious about, and Robin loves it, loves her loud and unrestrained, loves the wild tremor that shakes her so hard she dislodges herself from the strap. She keeps rocking, though, pressing her hips against Robin’s leg, her belly until her orgasm finally recedes.

“Oh, fuck,” Nancy says, when she finally catches her breath. She lets up her grip on Robin’s wrists and immediately Robin wraps her arms around Nancy’s waist, holding her close. “That was so good,” she says, catching Robin’s lips for another kiss. “You were so good for me.”

Robin whines against her, and then gasps as Nancy’s thigh catches her dripping cunt.

“Is that what you want?” Nancy asks, pressing harder so that Robin quakes. It’s not going to take much to get her off. If Nancy just stays where she is, Robin’s pretty sure she can get enough friction to tip herself over the edge.

“Nance, please,” she begs. Nancy likes it when she does that.

“Is it?” Too late, Robin hears the mischief in Nancy’s voice. “Because I thought you said you wanted to taste me.”

Nancy slips her thigh from between Robin’s legs and Robin lets her head drop back on the pillow in despair.

“Well?” Nancy asks, impatiently, though she’s smiling down at Robin with that wicked smirk of hers.

“I do,” Robin croaks.

“Do you want it more than you want to come? You can only have one.”

The ultimatum makes Robin’s hips jerk, and she thrashes her head on the pillow for a moment, because it’s either that or come unraveled.

“Which do you want more?” Nancy asks, and as she speaks, she reaches down to take hold of the strap, which is still slick from inside her. She pumps her fist up and down, and this time the angle is just right so the base of the strap rubs against Robin’s clit.

Robin’s toes clench, and her thighs strain to lift her hips into the pressure. She could come like this, she can feel it, Nancy jerking her off with slow, steady pulls to her cock.

“Is all you care about getting off,” Nancy continues, in that deliciously judgmental tone of hers, “or do you want to do what you promised you would do and eat me out?”

Robin groans, pushing her hips up into the sweet pressure of the strap one last time before she says, “I wanna taste you.”

“Good girl,” Nancy says, and lets go of the strap. It bobs, forgotten, as Nancy climbs up Robin’s body to straddle her face.

Robin moans into the dark between Nancy’s thighs. She’s so wet against Robin’s tongue, the taste of her so rich and thick. It doesn’t matter if Robin never gets to come again, she thinks feverishly, not if she gets to do this for Nancy. She’d wait forever, it Nancy asked her to.

“Hands on my thighs,” Nancy says in a warning tone. “I don’t want you trying to touch yourself while I can’t see.”

Robin wouldn’t, but she puts her hands on Nancy’s thighs anyway. She loves the flex of Nancy’s muscles under her fingers, the way it lets her pull her in closer. Nancy rides her face fast, fingers working furiously on her overstimulated clit. Robin’s head spins, her hips rocking in time with Nancy’s, her forgotten cunt throbbing below her bouncing cock.

It doesn’t take long before Nancy’s coming on Robin’s tongue, her thighs shaking against Robin’s ears. Even once she’s come, Nancy keeps rubbing her clit, drawing her pleasure out a little longer. Robin revels in the knowledge that Nancy is as loathe to let this end as she is.

When at last she climbs off Robin’s face, Robin shivers at the sudden chill of the cool air meeting the spit and slick that’s smeared across her face and throat. It makes her feel filthy in the most delicious way, debauched for Nancy’s eyes only. She closes her eyes and breathes in Nancy’s heady scent, licks Nancy’s wetness from her lips. She loves being covered in her, loves the thought of waking up tomorrow and still being able to smell traces of Nancy on her skin.

“I love seeing you this way,” Nancy says from somewhere too far away. “And you love it, too, don’t you?”

Dazed with desire, too exhausted to give a coherent answer, Robin nods.

“Do you want to show me?”

Curious, Robin cracks her eyes open to find Nancy sitting down by her feet, watching her fondly. “Hm?” she manages to ask.

Nancy smiles, and runs a hand up Robin’s leg. Even just that light touch feels exquisite, in the state Robin’s in, makes her tremble with a much more intimate touch might. “Do you want to show me how good I make you feel?”

Of course Robin wants to, she wants to give Nancy everything she can, but she doesn’t really understand what Nancy is asking her to do. The trailing touch of Nancy’s fingers on her calf is so good, she almost wants to cry. When she tries to ask, all that comes out is a whine.

“Will you make yourself come for me, sweetheart?” Nancy asks, more pointedly. “Can you do that?”

Robin blinks, head spinning. “But . . . ?”

Nancy leans down and drops a delicate kiss on the side of Robin’s knee. “I changed my mind,” she says. “You were so good for me, I think you deserve it. But you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

Robin wants to sob. She wants to come, has been desperate for it all night, but she’s so tired now that all she can think about is curling up beside Nancy and falling asleep.

“Can you do that for me?” Nancy asks, almost wheedling.

Robin nods. With stiff fingers, she loosens the harness just enough that the strap slaps against her thigh. When she slips her hand between her legs, she can’t help but moans at how wet she is. Her vulva is sensitive from the pressure of the strap, but the ache is good.

“Legs open,” Nancy insists. “I want to see you.”

Her thighs burn as she draws her legs up and out, exposing the hot core of herself to the open air. She can feel Nancy looking at her, and that’s almost as good as a touch. She imagines it like a wave lapping against her as she rubs her clit.

“You’re so wet for me,” Nancy says admiringly. “I don’t think it’ll take you long to come, at all.”

Robin quickens her pace, wanting that to be true.

“You were so good for me tonight,” Nancy says, and Robin shakes. “Only thinking about what I needed, always putting me first. You fuck me so well, sweetheart, you’re so good to me.”

Robin feels herself flush all over, her legs shaking. “Nancy,” she gasps. “Please.”

“Are you going to come?”

Her hips are shaking, her breath frantic in her chest, but she can’t feel it, the closing of that circle inside her that means she’s close. She whines urgently, tossing her head against the pillow. She pressed harder against her clit, willing her aching arm to move faster, fuck herself better. Nancy wants her to come, she has to give it to her.

“What if I told you to stop?” Nancy asks abruptly.

It takes her a moment to understand what Nancy’s asking, but the moment she does, she takes her hands off herself and lies there trembling.

“You’d stop just like that?” Nancy asks. “Go to bed right now and not touch yourself again until I said you could?”

“Anything,” Robin breathes, not even knowing what she means. “Anything, anything, please, just make me.”

Nancy must take pity on her then, because the next moment, there’s a shifting weight on the mattress, and two fingers slip inside her. She cries out, writhing as Nancy fucks her. She tries to raise her hips to rock back into Nancy’s touch, but at this point it’s all she can do to brace herself for it, let it happen.

Nancy fucks her rough and insistent and Robin can feel herself unraveling, the circle inside her tightening at last. The shaking in her is beyond her control, and when Nancy crooks her fingers inside her, crooning to her, calling Robin her sweet girl and telling her how good she’s been, how of course she deserves this, Robin cries out and comes so hard her calf cramps.

“Sweetheart,” Nancy murmurs as she eases Robin down onto the sweat-damp mattress.

She’s crying, she realizes, in amidst her sobbing breaths. “Love you,” she gasps. It feels essential to say it right now. It’s maybe the only thing she knows in this moment, when her whole body is pushed to its limit. She wraps her trembling arms around Nancy’s neck.

Nancy holds her close until she’s still again, and then a little longer after that.

#ronance #robin x nancy #robin/nancy #stranger things femslash #femslashtember

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