#part of me still feels like that little baby lesbian who was so ashamed

[gregmarriage]

okay, but literally, sometimes? the only way you can be happy? you’re gonna have to disappoint your parents. yeah, sorry x

[passivenovember]

Happy Valentines Day!

Dedicated to my babies over in the smut cave. Thanks for making everyday so saturated in horniness that I can’t feel anything but love. You’re the best.

And to @cherrydreamer , who is so good I’m pretty sure God could learn a thing or two.

--

Steve’s not his boyfriend. Billy ties honesty around each wrist to keep himself in place whenever things start to feel a little too much like a roll of party balloons.

And they always do, with Steve. Because Steve’s an idiot.

He’s full of shining romance. He parks the Beemer outside Billy’s house every morning before school even though Billy’s got a car because Steve hopes, against all hope, that Billy will roll over and be his girlfriend.

That he’ll let Steve hold his hand and carry his books and allow Steve to drive them to school. Billy and Max, fighting over the radio station and tracking mud onto the floors while Steve grins like a moron.

Harrington has a death wish disguised as chivalry.

Because even though Billy aims to chew his head off and Neil would probably bury them both alive if he ever caught on, Steve climbs through bedroom windows and tucks notes onto mattress pillows and in between the slots of lockers because he’s got flowers growing out his ass.

Love’s gonna win out, for him.

Billy doesn’t get it. 

The hope. The peppery, love-sick gestures. He could pick them by the handful, each colored for a different moronic display of Steve’s lingering affection. 

And it’s not that Billy hates flowers, it’s just. 

It’s spring. 

It’s the promise of the days getting longer and air gusting warmer and the hope that even though he’s still living like a stoned crab under the ever-present weight of his father, Billy could relax into Steve’s attention and summer will drape itself over the land. 

If he just gave in, July would burn hot on his shoulder blades.

–

Billy doesn’t give in. 

He can’t.

He could lie and say it’s all part of some rude awakening. He’ll take Steve’s dick up his ass, down his throat, blooming like cactus blossoms between both hands, but he doesn’t love him.

But, turns out, as January melts into six more weeks of winter and Heather’s warning that this thing between Billy and Steve’ll vanish as soon as the ground starts to thaw, Steve gets restless.

Billy can’t blame him. Knows they’ve both got a lesbian ear-worm chewing their confidence to shit. 

Heather urges Billy to stop being such a piranha and Robin tells Steve he’s gonna get his heart smashed and tossed like a new penny into the ocean. Lost. Forgotten on its descent to the bottom of the hapless sea. 

And to be honest, no one’s ever been able to guess why Steve chose this. Billy, in all his pathetic glory. 

But he did. He picked Billy like a thorn from his side.

And they hammer themselves into something like the mockery of a relationship because that’s what people do. They fuck. They smoke pot and dry hump and fuck again, each chewing on the idea that maybe this won’t last. 

Billy’s good at ignoring it and Heather and himself until the weekend before Valentines Day. 

Steve pulls out of him. Rolls onto his back and says, “You never gaze at me,” even though his spunk is cooling the sheets under Billy’s naked thighs.

Billy shifts on the pillow, blowing smoke at the ceiling so it won’t end up in Steve’s eyes.

Steve won’t look at him.

He’s got the sheets tucked up around his chest, arms crossed over their slick face like he’s ashamed of himself, maybe, for the first time ever. Regretful of Billy. Of this thing between them.

Billy frowns. “I don’t do what?”

“You don’t gaze at me,” Steve tells him, Adam’s Apple bobbing like he needs a cool drink. “Y’know. Like when you see a pretty girl–”

“Don’t like girls, remember?”

“Okay, then,” Steve rolls onto his side, propping himself seriously on one elbow. “Say it’s a cute guy. Handsome.”

“Alright.”

“When you see a handsome guy, you know? In a nice car, do you ever–”

“Is it a fast car?”

Steve blinks. “Does it matter?”

“‘Course it does,” Billy sucks on his smoke again, teasing, “Fast car’s a sign of taste. And to be able to afford that kinda car you’ve gotta have money. And in my experience, any guy with money’s got a cock on him.”

“Every guy’s got a cock.”

“Yeah, but not every cock’s a good one,” Billy winks, “Ain’t that right, Rolls Royce?”

Steve turns red, all the way down his chest. Billy has the familiar urge to pin him to the mattress and lick at his nipples, see if they taste like strawberry jam when he blushes like that.

But Steve’s eyebrows are threaded together. Serious, when he says, “You’re saying the only thing that’d trap you in a gaze is a nice car?”

Billy shrugs. “I don’t gaze.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I could, though,” Billy looks over at him, guilty for the thrill that rolls through him at the sight of Steve, naked and pissed off. “If we’re talking about a fast car, and a rich guy, and a nice cock–”

“Forget it,” Steve snaps, sitting until the sheets pool around his waist. “Forget I said anything, alright?” Harrington jostles the bed, swinging his legs over one side. He reaches for his pants, tugging them on so roughly Billy’s worried he’ll give himself rug burn. 

Billy puffs on his cigarette. “Where you going, pretty boy?”

“Gotta piss.”

“You’re putting clothes on for that?”

Steve drops his pants as if they’ve caught fire. “Maybe I’ll leave.”

Billy snorts. “You live here.”

“Well, I’m not gonna kick you out,” Steve snaps. Annoyed. He’s never been this irritated with Billy before. So pressed he won’t even look at him.

Steve always looks at him. 

Gazes. 

It’s not a great feeling.

Billy props himself against the headboard, trying to backtrack whatever landmine he ate shit over. Steve’s seething on the edge of the mattress, so far away he might as well be in Asia. So close Billy can map the constellations between his shoulder blades. “Come here,” Billy says softly.

Steve shakes his head. 

“Steve.”

“You’re such an asshole sometimes.”

“I know,” Billy pinches the butt between his teeth. “Come here anyway.”

One moment yawns into the next and then Steve’s toes follow each other back onto the mattress. He tucks under the sheets, eyes tacked to the ceiling. 

“What,” Steve says. Taught and fragile. Bitchy.

Billy chokes on a swell of something. Swallows it down. “You don’t wanna cuddle?” He asks, exactly how Steve always does. Batting his eyelashes where he knows Harrington can see. 

But Steve won’t budge. He crosses his arms. “Tell me what you want and I’ll consider it.”

And Billy. 

He’s a pro at flipping the script. At hiding in plain sight. He’s been pretending to want this and nothing more if it means he’ll get Steve. A couple nights a week fucking in a bed he never sleeps in, watching every flash of desperate pleasure on Harrington’s face because there’s no chance he’ll run into the weight of anything when he’s caught in orgasm land. 

Billy doesn’t say the only time he feels good is when Steve comes. Doesn’t own up to the way it gets him through the swell of night, the memory of being so close to someone who’s good because it’s his nature. 

Steve never has to try. He’s perfect.

And Billy isn’t ready to admit anything. That he recognizes it. Feels Steve’s brilliance like a twisting knife in the back; Tell me what you want–

Billy clears his throat. “Do you want me to leave?”

The possibility makes him nauseous. Steve takes the cigarette that’s handed to him, perfect plush lips closing around the butt of the thing.

“Tell me, baby. I’ll go right now. You’ll never have to see me again–”

“God, you’re a dumbass, too, you know that?” Steve hands the cigarette over, jaw tense. “If I wanted you gone I would’ve kicked you out forever ago.”

“You. You mean tonight, or–”

“Yeah,” Steve tells him softly. “Months before that. Before I fell in love with you.”

Billy chews on their cigarette and watches Steve in between puffs. The way his lashes flutter when he’s trying not to give the side eye. 

Billy feels haunted. By everything. His future. The way Steve’s so free with his words and his truth, tossing them at Billy like red roses and rotting tomatoes. Steve says he loves him, and Billy’s heard it before. Steve’s sentiment gets lost in the roiling anger that makes Billy who he is. 

But tonight, it’s silenced.

Steve’s I love you’s have that effect on him. Cutting all the noise from the sky as his attention drapes over Billy like the lid of a coffin. Like sunlight, too. 

Daylight.

Billy turns to face him, his wrist cracking under the weight of his head. “Do you want me to gaze at you more?” He asks.  

Steve chews on a mouthful of smoke and then blows it at the ceiling until it looks like a cloud.

A bunny or an anvil. Something.

“I could,” Billy says. “You’ve got everything that grabs my attention, you know?”

“What? Money and cars and–”

“Yeah, but. It’s not only that shit, I was. I was kidding.”

Steve blinks. “You were kidding?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly,” Steve says, as if tasting the caramel drop word on his tongue. He shifts on the mattress, glancing over and away again. Teasing. “Alright. What else about me grabs your attention?”

“You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you? Itemized list style?”

Steve’s demeanor falls flat again. A punctured balloon trickling from the sky. “Never mind,” He says, “Forget it. You obviously don’t feel the same about me as I do about you–”

“You make me laugh, okay?” Billy spits. 

He swallows thickly. Fiddles with the lip of the sheets. His words burn like acid. He’s cut to the bone. 

“I like the way you drum on your knee when there’s a song you dig. You have passions. You read, but you’re not very good at it. You help me study even though you mispronounce everything. You’re kind.”

And suddenly, Steve’s looking at him. Through him, too, past every swirling atom, toggling layers of bullshit and titanium walls meant to keep everyone out.

But under the cosmic starfall of Steve’s gaze and his attention and his love–

Billy’s walls never stood a chance.

“I like you,” Billy grits. 

There. 

He said it. He told the truth and now Harrington can out a lid on those eyes and stop looking at Billy like he ran over the family dog–

“You mean it?” Steve asks.

As if Billy’s saying something else. Like he’s admitting to a crime, or accepting a ticket to go anywhere in the universe.

Billy frowns, not understanding. “I guess so.”

Steve watches him for another endless, yawning moment. “Prove it.” He says, and finishes the cigarette.

–

It’s kind of how Max was, in that weird space between Billy’s first I’m Sorry and where they are now. 

Billy had to work for it because Billy has to work for everything. It’s like purgatory. Paying out of pocket for all the shit he’s done wrong in his life. 

Steve says, “prove it,” and Billy doesn’t really believe him at first. 

They aren’t together. Billy isn’t his fucking girlfriend, and Steve’s old enough that he’s supposed to have stopped wishing for grand gestures. 

Doesn’t he know that shit isn’t real? That husbands get their wives flowers because they got caught fucking their secretaries, and boyfriends only tuck fuzzy animals into their girlfriends arms to apologize for getting drunk and covering her in bruises?

But the more Billy turns it over in his hands, the more he realizes he should’ve seen this coming.

Steve’s got a pension for anything sappy and romantic. 

He goes hog wild for John Huges and sets money aside for February 15th, when all the Valentine’s candy is on sale. He sings the Ronettes at the top of his lungs when Billy’s pissed off, wiggling his hips and begging Billy to be his little baby. 

Steve pretends not to trace love hearts on storefront windows. He ignores thoughts of dinner reservations and avoids all conversation of expensive springtime bouquets until someone asks his opinion, and suddenly Steve’s a florist. 

Last year he even helped Max and her Nerdy friends plan a romantic double date night, complaining all the while even though he made Billy hide with him in the back room so they could spy–

And.

It hits Billy like a freight train.

“No,” Billy tells himself. He shakes his head, curls catching obnoxiously on the pillow beneath him. “No way–”

He’s not asking the Nerd Squad for help/

He’d never hear the end of it. They’d roast him alive and it would cost him every cent in his California fund. Curly top would accuse him, all over again, of not being suave or good or smart enough for someone like Steve, and the rest would co-sign without ever saying a word, and–

No.

Billy isn’t going to put himself through that type of ego-death all for a pair of legs, and that’s final.

But just as he starts to doze off, dreams lapping at his toes like warm ocean water, Billy settles with the fact that he has no other choice.

It’s his ego or Steve, and if Billy doesn’t play this right he’ll never love again.

–

“He says you never gaze at him?”

Billy digs his nails into his palm. “That’s what I said.”

“Steve’s kind of confusing.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I mean, it’s so weird,” Max’s shoes thump against the base of the couch, filling their empty house on Cherry lane with music. “You throw plenty of gaze at him.”

“I know, right?”

“You are gay-ze,” Max teases.

And if Billy were any less desperate, he might stick a wet thumb in her ear for that one. But he’s on his last leg. He’s tearing his curls out by the root. He’s climbing the walls, he’s–

Max frowns. “Tough crowd.”

“It was funny,” Billy tries, smile stiff and unnatural. “I was gonna laugh, but–”

“But you’re worried if you don’t do something grand and rom-com perfect Steve’ll dump you.”

Billy glares at her. “There’s nothing to dump. We aren’t dating.”

“Sure,” Max says slyly. 

She’s such a little shit. She’s the worst.

Billy bites against the urge to bully her. To pinch her arm and revert back to his old self to get what he wants out of the situation.

Max shrugs her knobby little shoulders and admits, “Steve’s not that hard to romance.”

Billy drops the act entirely. “How the fuck would you know that?”

“When he helped Lucas and Mike plan our double-date last year he gave this obnoxious speech about how girls pretend like we want diamonds and flashy declarations, but really it’s the thought that counts.”

But. “Steve’s not a girl,” Billy thunks his head on the back of the couch, exhausted.

This is bullshit.

This is so difficult–

“It’s not like you could afford to do anything obnoxious even if you wanted to,” Max tells him. 

And Billy gets that it’s meant to be reassuring.

Steve was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Anything he wants he can get for himself, including expensive bouquets and five-star dinners. Hell, he could get himself off, too. Doesn’t need Billy for anything. Not really. 

But that’s half the trouble.

If Billy can’t live up to the Valentine's Steve can plan for himself, he doesn’t know why he’s trying. 

Why he’s losing sleep, sick to his stomach over the thought that this might be it.

“Stop spiraling,” Max sits on the coffee table in front of him, knocking their toes together until Billy pins her with a heat-less glare. “When you imagine a perfect day with Steve–”

“I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Why? Max demands, “Because it involves a lot of open mouthed kisses?”

“Just tell me what you think he would like.”

“A handjob, probably.”

Billy sits ramrod straight. “Max, let’s watch the mouth.”

“Don’t take it out on me. I’m pretty sure that’s what every guy wants.”

“Steve’s not every guy, he’s. He’s fucking perfect and he was born in a castle and he’s always had anything he’s ever wanted and I’m a piece of shit–” 

“Billy, you’re fine,” Max tells him. Because, of course, she sees right through Billy’s vitriol.

He’s made of glass.

He’s a window. A crystal slipper, plummeting to its brain-shattered death.

Max knocks their toes together again. “Even if you served him a burnt pot of macaroni on a dirty plate, tucked over a sticky dining room table, he’d love it.”

“Why,” Billy snaps, “Because it’s me.”

“Because it’s you,” She says, eyes blue and earnest. “Now, walk me through your perfect date.”

–

In the end, mop top and the wheeler kid think it’s sweet that Billy’s trying in the first place.

They give him his blessing.

On February 14th, a day that’s so cloud-covered and rain drenched that Billy almost wants to call the whole parade off and stay in bed until the sun rises red and new, Steve’s dorks manage to get him out of the house.

His parents are in Rome, because.

Of course they’re in Rome. The city of love.

And Billy’s been shaking hard enough to cause an Earthquake since the second he got into the shower this morning, but Max smiles and says, “Tonight, Hawkins is the most romantic place in the world.”

So Billy chooses hope.

They light candles. They decorate. Billy orders heart-shaped pizza because he’d probably give them food poisoning if he tried to cook, and suddenly it’s 5:00.

The dorks clear out.

When the front door opens, Steve runs headfirst into a hallway covered in wilting daisy petals. He’s immediately tangled in the strings of four stubborn Get Well balloons because Max tried her best.

He drops his shopping bags when he sees the candles.

He almost brains it on the stairs, because Billy’s waiting in a suit, collar uncomfortably tight around the knob of his throat.

“Billy–” He says, with tears in his eyes.

But Billy’s gotta spit it out, before the words choke him to death. He takes the stairs two at a time, arriving at the bottom.

“Steve,” He says, kind of breathless. “I don’t just like you. I love you, and. Max helped me plan this because I’m an idiot. And the balloons are all wrong and I didn’t cook you anything, not even macaroni, but I love you, and--”

“It’s perfect,” Steve tells him.

And Billy doesn’t want to brag, but.

He proves it. Seals the deal with a kiss.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

The first tell was the body next to her. The second was the warmth. Her bed was never warm these days. The first two things had already clued her in that there was something off. Off was an understatement. She’s certain she passed out on her office floor clutching a bottle of alcohol and Jess was going to kill her in the morning. So, how the fuck-

The longer she stays there, eyes closed, feeling the breathing of a stranger, the more she’s convinced she’s suffered from amnesia. 

Beyond scared she opens her eyes, hoping, praying that she didn’t bring home some idiot from a cheap lesbian bar. Her eyes land on blonde hair and an all too familiar set of defined shoulders and Lena lets out a gasp of surprise. She sobers up, jerks upright. Jolting the pair of arms wrapped around her waist and making her companion wake abruptly. 

“Lena- Wha- Why’re you awake?”

“Kara-” That was all she was capable of as of the moment, because Kara was sitting up and flicking on the bedside lamp, letting Lena glimpse the small clock on the nightstand that read 4: 00 a.m. 

Kara’s voice was all raspy and sleep-laden and she was looking at Lena with concern. She was looking at Lena like they’ve done this all the time. And they did. 

Once. 

She remembers jerking awake screaming from nightmares and Kara holding her; remembers waking up to Kara’s screams and holding her. 

But this-

This wasn’t right. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” She asks, crinkle forming. And Lena just stares and stares and-

“Kara, this isn’t real.”

“What? Oh, baby, come here. That dream must’ve really done a number on you, huh?” Kara coos and she gathers Lena in her arms. Lena can do nothing but melt and follow Kara’s movements, her mind is still reeling. 

Trying to decipher the events that had led here. This wasn’t real. This-

A tremble shakes the bed. Lena’s heart rate ticks up, Kara seems to have heard because she’s tightening her embrace and more words come out of her lips, but Lena doesn’t hear a word of it.

“I’m here, you’re safe. I’m here.” 

Lena finally finds her voice and she slowly tries to extricate herself from Kara. She can feel her hesitating to let her go. 

“This isn’t real,” She repeats and Kara is ready to protest, “Please, Kara. Please listen to me?”

She nods. Kara was never one to deny Lena anything, anyway. Lena sighs a breath of relief. 

“Thank you. Uh- I think this isn’t real, Kara. I think I’m inside a Black Mercy induced dream.”

And as if it heard a cue, the bed and the rest of the room vibrates as if ashamed of being called-out so easily. 

“No, no, no. You aren’t. You’re real. I’m real, You-” Kara is scrambling for words, “Look- Here, feel this?” Kara frantically grabs her hand and presses it to her own chest, “Can you feel it? This is real. Don’t say it isn-”

Lena feels like sobbing, because it does feel real. The strong beats underneath her palm thundering through her very soul. It feels so so so fucking real. She’s never wanted something to be real as bad as this. She wants to believe, because Kara is looking at her with those baby blue eyes and she wants to say that ‘Yes, I believe it real. We’re real.’

She can’t.

“Kara, the bed is trembling. Can you feel it? This isn't real. You’re in my head.”

It was brutal. She watches Kara’s face fall. She retracts her hand back. 

“How are you so sure that this isn’t real?”

The question was asked with so much fear. 

“Because,” she starts shaky but certain, “I hurt you, Kara. And that is the one thing that I can never forget.”

It was true. She can never forget the way Kara crumpled to her feet. Can’t forget the way the Girl of Steel broke by Lena’s hands. Can’t forget the tear-stricken face. 

Can’t forget the pleas. 

“Don’t do this, Lena. Please, come on. Please, stay. Don’t leave. Not you, please I can’t-”

“Oh.”

The silence was deafening. She can’t look at Kara as she processes everything. So she takes the time to survey the room. And God, every inch of the room screams how much they’ve stitched their lives with the other. 

There were books haphazardly stacked in one corner, a painting easel in the other, Kara’s cape shining in the dim light of the lamp, Lena’s old MIT sweatshirt at the foot of the bed. 

A wedding portrait. They were married here. Fuck. 

Lena chances a glance at her left hand and not only does she find a ring but also a matching gold bracelet. A Kryptonian mating band. Now, she notices that Kara’s ring was worn on her neck next to her Mother’s necklace Lena supposes she wears it underneath the Super suit and a matching bracelet sitting on her left wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” Lena says ‘for everything.’ she wants to add but she remembers this isn’t her Kara. She doesn’t have a Kara. She doesn’t have any part of Kara. Not anymore.

“What are you sorry for? If anyone could figure out they were inside a parasite induced dream, it would be you.  You’re a genius but you’re dumb for apologizing. You should reject the fantasy now, Lena. You’ll die.”

Damn it, even here. 

Even here Lena is still hurting her and Kara still wants to save her. 

The tears finally fall. The sobs come next. 

“Oh, Lena. Come here. It’s okay. I’m here,”

“I- I know, I’ll die but God, Kara, I want to stay here. I- You’re my everything, you know?”

“I know, Lena. I’ve always known. You don’t have to die because I’ll always know. You need to get out of here now,” She whispers against Lena’s temple and Lena takes the time to breathe her in. God, even the scent smells real. 

“Y-you’re right. I should go, but-” Lena doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants. That was what her therapist had said the first time she booked an appointment.

“But what?”

“Tell me about our life here first?” At that Kara pulls away a bit to look into her eyes; gauging if this is really what Lena wants. 

It is, it’s what she wants but more than that it’s what she needs. The reassurance that somewhere out there, there was a world in which they made each other happy. That in a universe out there--whether real or not--the both of them had a taste of a happy ending.

“Okay, okay yeah. But first, promise me you’ll get out of here as fast as you can, once we’re done?” 

She was never one to deny Lena Luthor anything, remember? She was more than happy to recount the entirety of their love story to her.

“Thank you.” And Lena can’t help but press a soft kiss to Kara’s cheek. 

“Where do you want to start?”

“Do we have a dog?”

“Krypto,” Kara says with a shy smile as if she knows that Lena would laugh at the goofy sentimental name choice, “And a cat, Streaky Jr., you don’t allow pets in the bedroom so,”

“I’m impressed we have the time for pets,” Lena whispers as she shifts closer to Kara in the bed. Heart now beating in a steady calm rhythm, gone was the panic earlier, now replaced by a sense of security, no matter how false it is. 

“Well, you decided to distribute most of the workload to Jess--who you promoted to board member by the way, and to Sam. And since, Wednesday is my first day as Editor-in-Chief, my schedule’s not as busy as it was.”

It was nice to hear that. The way they have obviously chosen to grow into themselves together. She was glad that in her perfect world she hadn’t forgotten about Jess and Sam.

“Oh, and also you spend most of your days in our home lab with Jack anyway. So, the pets get plenty of love.”

“Jacky’s alive here?”

“Yeah, you reversed the nanotech matrix. You saved him.”

And the crying fest begins anew. 

“I miss him, so much.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lena doesn’t have to explain her reaction, Kara knows how to read her anyway.

At the reminder of Jack, Lena finds the courage to ask a question she’s never thought she would want to ask.

“What about Lex and Lillian?”

“Well, your brother’s probably drunk in an L-Corp gala somewhere and Lillian’s probably plotting about how she’s going to insult my next article-”

So, she still has her brother and it seems like Lillian’s not much of a xenophobe as she is in reality but she senses that she still is a bad mother with the way Kara talks.

“When did we get married?”

“Two years after we first met. We had two, actually.”

“I’m guessing I insisted on a Kryptonian wedding and you insisted on a human one?”

She knows that one, because she’s been thinking about it. Well, at least she was before everything went to shit. She wanted to give Kara a Kryptonian ceremony. She had wanted to show her that Lena would be honored to share everything Kara’s world had to offer.

“Are we-” she hesitated, “Are we happy, Kara?”

She wasted no time in answering, “The happiest. You make me the happiest soul alive in this universe and in any universe.”

Fresh tears fall down the side of her face and Kara wipes them away before speaking, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, I guess it’s only fair.” Lena sniffles and prepares her mind for what she knows will be an emotionally-charged exchange not that this has been an easy conversation thus far.

“Out there, are you happy?”

Lena’s air is stolen from her. Well, she doesn’t know how to answer that one. 

“Sometimes,” she whispers. She’s not happy most of the time but sometimes she is.

Sometimes, Ruby calls her to tell her about a science project or sometimes Nia sends her meme even though she hasn’t been to Game Nights for almost a year now, sometimes Brainy takes her out for a drink and she feels like she’s got a little brother to call her own. 

So yeah, sometimes. Because the thought of perpetual happiness without Kara in her life is impossible. 

“Only sometimes?” Kara asks, brow furrowing.

“Yeah, only sometimes. Not like it matters, anyway.”

“Well, of course it matters! Your happiness matters!” Kara exclaims, old habits die hard what can she say?

But then Kara takes a turn from defensive to curious again, “Am I happy? Out there? I mean?” 

“I- I have no idea.”

Lena waits for the answer to sink in to Kara. 

“What? What do you mean you have no idea?”

“Remember when I said I hurt you?” 

Kara gives her a nod.

“Well, I haven’t seen you for a long time. I’ve been avoiding you. Normally people tend to not seek out their exes, you know.” 

She’s trying to keep it lighthearted. She’s trying not to let this Kara see how much she craves her presence, how much she wishes she could see Kara again. Don’t get her wrong, Supergirl is plastered every minute on the news, but- 

That’s not who she wants to see. 

“She’s miserable,” Kara answers point-blank leaving no room for argument, “If you’ve been avoiding me, I’d be miserable.”

That has Lena speechless. 

Because miserable would be an understatement of how things had been ever since they ended things. 

Ever since Lena ended things. 

“I don’t like not being with you, you know?” Kara states as if Lena doesn’t feel the same.

“I- I don’t like that either.”

“I know.”

She has to go. Lena knows she has to go but Kara is looking at her so sincerely and she can feel the love and she knows this is nothing but an intricate trap formed by an alien parasite slowly killing her. She has to go but-

“Lena!” 

The both of them are startled and four eyes immediately land to-

Kara?! No, not Kara. Supergirl.

“Supergirl,” She says; surprise coloring her voice. She didn’t know Supergirl would go in and save her. Hell, she didn’t even know how she found her. But then again, she’s tried solving the puzzle that is Kara Zor-El but had never been able to piece it together. 

Supergirl takes a look at her doppelganger in bed with Lena; a scene so familiar to her. A scene she’s replayed again and again in her head. A scene that was once their reality then a memory and now an illusion. She takes a step closer.

“Lena, we have to go, please. Please believe me, this isnt-” 

“-real,” Lena finishes for her and Supegirl looks stunned, “I know, Supergirl. I know how to reject my own fantasy. I’ve had plenty of practice, after all.”

She aims for sarcasm, because fucking fucking hell, how the fuck does anybody expect her to function if there were two Kara’s in front of her?

That was asking for too much. 

Beside her, Kara had gone silent. It seems like she knows what comes next. She knows what Supergirl intends to do. They’re the same person after all. 

“It’s okay,” Lena hears Kara say and she breaks away from the hero’s gaze to find Kara looking at her with those eyes again.

“It’s okay, Lena,” She repeats, “It’s okay, Supergirl’s here. You’re gonna be safe. Stay safe for me, yeah?”

“Lena we have to go. Now,” Supergirl commands from the other side of the room. 

“Okay, yeah,” She whispers then she turns to Supergirl, “Just give me a chance to say goodbye, please?”

Supergirl stares at her for a moment then at Kara then she gives them both a nod and turns back to give them privacy.

“Last question?”

“Hit me.”

“What’s your surname?”

“Luthor.”

Fuck. She shouldn’t feel this surprised but damn, hearing Kara confirm it? Lena doesn’t know how to feel about that. She doesn’t know how to feel about all of this. 

“Just like you promised.”

“Just like I promised.” 

The words are echoed back to her and Lena hates the way she’s noticed how stiff Supergirl’s posture had become in her periphery. Ignores the fact that Supergirl has superhearing. 

“Thank you for indulging me, Kara.”

“Always.”

Goodbye, darling.”

And then everything fades to black.

author’s note: hiya lovely people send me an ask if i should write a follow-up for this.

[dancingazaleas]

erejean | pretty

RIVALS TO LOVERS SUPREMACY

i’m so sorry i just love erejean and i could go on about why i think they actually have a beautiful friendship in canon

edit: i wrote this while half asleep so i’m sorry

warnings/notes: cursing, college au!, eren’s personality doesn’t change too much, hopeless pining, this is short, this is messy, internalized homophobia, coming out, gay awakening

eren and jean have been rivals ever since they could remember. no one really knows how it started, but the only thing they did know it that one out of the two of them were acting a little weird.

unlike usual, he was oddly silent towards one another and often faced each other with flushing faces. he gave the other longing looks when he wasn’t looking.

eren genuinely didn’t know what was happening. for the past two to three years, jean’s always irritated the hell out of eren. eren’s even the one who came up with the ridiculous nickname of ‘horse face’.

but now, he thinks jean’s pretty... and handsome. eren doesn’t exactly know what happened, he just knows that ever since the end of senior year that his annoyance for jean has decreased almost into nothing.

okay, eren is kind of lying to himself.

eren still is annoyed by jean, but it isn’t like before. eren never used to be annoyed at how jean’s eyelashes were long and pretty. he never had been annoyed about how his hands were bigger in comparison to his own, he’d never want to hold them. he’d never been annoyed about how jean’s body wasn’t against his, encasing eren with his odd ember fire.

he hated how jean looks so pretty whenever he thinks to himself, he hates how jean looks so stupidly beautiful whenever he’s drawing. he hates how pretty jean looks whenever he laughs, and he hates that he wants that smile to stay there forever.

but what eren hates the most is that he isn’t even gay.

eren’s never really found men attractive growing up, but that didn’t exactly mean that he found girls attractive. eren had only ever dated one girl, who was now a lesbian with a girlfriend and also his close friend.

the only boy eren ever thought was cute was armin. but eren always brushed it off since the two of them were childhood friends. usually childhood friends find each other cute right? and cuddly? and... y’know what, nevermind.

eren sits in his room beside his bed, crying into the palms of his hands from confusion. he’s tried so hard to feel something for girls, any girl that would throw herself at him, but it didn’t work. eren can’t even get hard if he thinks about girls in a sexual manner, but finds himself doing so when thinking of men.

he’s so confused. he’s never been so confused in his entire life.

“eren, do you want anything from... are you okay,” eren looks up to see armin’s face bunched up with concern.

eren wipes away his tears even though it’s pointless because the tears keep flooding over. he can’t help but sob now, too embarrassed at how he’s feeling. armin’s on the floor beside eren within seconds, arms wrapping around eren’s broad shoulders and pulling him into his chest.

eren’s hands weave themselves into the loose fabric of armin’s forest green turtleneck, finally letting everything he’d been holding in out.

eren hates how he confused he is. armin’s shushing him while tracing circles into the fabric of his hoodie, and eren knows that armin is anxious. before eren can try and calm himself down, there’s a gasp from his doorway and the sound of footsteps coming closer. he assumes that mikasa is home, to which he’s correct.

“eren, what’s wrong,” she asks gently, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

he chokes out a sob, digging his head further into armin’s shirt.

“just wait until he’s calmed down to ask,” armin advises, continuing to trace patterns into his back.

it takes a few minutes for eren to be able to speak, and even then it’s difficult.

“eren, what’s wrong,” armin pulls his knees to his chest, ignoring the dampness on his shirt.

“i’m... i’m confused,” he sighs after a sniffle, hand wiping away a tear.

“about what,” mikasa questions with an eyebrow raised.

“fuck,” he hisses from frustration, “i don’t know what i like.”

“like? do you mean hobbies?”

“no.”

“things? stuff like books or cheese?”

“no.”

“food?”

“no!”

“people?”

eren stays silent, now pulling his own knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. mikasa and armin give eren a sympathetic look, they both had gone through this as well.

“you think you like men,” mikasa treads carefully, not wanting to upset eren even more than he already is.

“yea,” his voice shakes along with his hands.

“what boy?” armin tilts his head back to lean against eren’s mattress.

“jean,” eren sighs, already feeling himself start to tear back up.

mikasa hums in confirmation, “i see.”

eren’s crying again, absolutely ashamed of himself.

“he just... i hate him ‘cause he’s so pretty and caring. whenever i’m angry, he tries not to make it worse. he pays attention to the stupidest little details, like how i like the crunchier parts of the bread on chicken. he’s so warm, it’s like he’s constantly on fire and i just.. i wanna be surrounded by it. he’s actually really thoughtful whenever he’s not trying to be a douche, and i hate it,” eren cries while he puts his head on mikasa’s muscular shoulder.

“and there’s nothing wrong with being gay, i mean literally nothing. i just hate that i’m confused. what does this mean? i haven’t felt like this towards him before, so why now,” he sniffles, “fuckin’ stupid.”

“y’know... armin and i once felt like this before,” mikasa says, a small and comforting smile coming up onto her face.

“about marco and annie,” he asks, and shifts his gaze to armin.

“yes. whenever i first realized in sophomore year, i was so confused and upset. annie was so pretty, and boys weren’t. at the time, it all felt so wrong, like it wasn’t meant to be that way,” mikasa explains with hesitance, “i told armin i like girls, and he told me he liked boys and that he felt the same way during freshman year. we hated how confused we were, and we hated that we liked the same sex.”

“but all it takes is acceptance from yourself,” armin smiles, “it’s okay to be confused, eren. you’re still 19, you’ve got so much time to figure out who you even are. also, even if you say there’s nothing wrong with being gay, there’s a chance you’ll have internalized homophobia towards yourself. it’s okay to be a gay man named eren yeager. and it’s okay to be confused. you don’t need to rush it, set your own pace.”

“armin’s right. eren, we love you no matter what. you mean the world to the both of us, even if you’re confused with your identity. it’s okay to explore those feelings, and it’s okay to be wrong about them. either way, we love you so much, eren,” mikasa wipes a tear from his eye with her thumb.

eren wants to cry again just from how loving the two of his friends are.

“thanks you guys, i love you too,” he chuckles as they’re all pulled into a group hug.

————

two months later, eren’s telling all of his friends. they accept him with open arms, which isn’t too surprising, but it makes him happy nonetheless.

another month, he’s telling his superiors at his work. they’re the closest eren has to parents since his mom and dad died, and they accepted him happily. he wasn’t too surprised, but even so it made him cry. knowing that he was loved no matter what made him emotional.

another month later, he’s telling one of the most important people in his life. his brother, who raised him and mikasa since his parents died. he’s once again accepted with open arms, and is even reminded that zeke has brought home boys whenever they both were younger. he’s so lucky.

but even after all this, he’s still crushing on jean. only now, he’s more accepting of how he wants jean to kiss him.

eren also thinks jean is an idiot.

eren has made multiple moves on the muffin top, but he hasn’t even realized. eren’s linked pinkies with jean while his face reddens, he’s fed jean, he’s even resorted to telling him horrible pickup lines.

what makes it worse is that jean thinks this is a rivalry thing again, god knows how.

what’s even more annoying is the fact that jean so obviously likes eren back, but eren is also too stupid to notice. eren, somehow, doesn’t notice how his face shows up in jean’s sketchbook more than it should. he doesn’t notice the flirty innuendos that jean tells him.

and it’s so annoying.

everyone feels this is even more annoying then whenever the two were at each other’s throats 24/7.

jean yawns while he stretches his arms towards the sky, pencil falling from his fingers and onto the paper of his sketchbook. he’s been outside drawing for two hours now, practicing landscapes and drawing under a short amount of time.

eren’s sleeping beside him on the grass, head resting on jean’s book bag while his arms hold his hoodie to his chest. some of eren’s hair is falling out of the bun it’s in, swishing silently as the wind begins to blow softly against their bodies.

jean thinks eren looks so pretty. with a cautious hand, he tucks a strand behind eren’s pierced ear. eren’s skin his warm against jean’s hand, even though the wind has been blowing gently on eren’s snoozing face.

jean brushes eren’s baby hairs out of his face, softly smiling at eren’s serenity. and before he can stop himself, his cheek is in the palm of jean’s large hand.

jean’s thumb strokes his cheekbone while the rest of his fingers get tangled into eren’s hair.

“pretty,” jean mumbles while he smiles.

for some reason, jean doesn’t pull his hand away. even when eren eyes start to flutter open and look at him. even whenever eren’s cheeks darken.

“you’re pretty, y’know,” jean says, ignoring how the setting sun was starting to get in his eyes.

“you’re not too bad yourself, horsey,” eren snickers while jean rolls his eyes and scoffs.

they’re left in a comfortable silence as jean finally pulls away and turns back to the sketchbook in his lap.

it showed no progress of landscapes and random people, only a drawing of eren sleeping.

————

eren and jean find themselves looking at the stars while standing in the lake a month later. it’s hot during june, even during the late nights where the sun has been put to rest.

which is why they came up with the bright idea to go swimming in a lake at 12 in the morning. the idea wasn’t even planned, eren decided on a whim and just decided to drag jean along.

jean points up towards the stars, “the big dipper.”

eren follows his finger, a huge smile spreading across his face at jean’s correct assumption.

“there’s the constellation of gemini,” eren says while pointing.

“makes sense since it’s june.”

eren nods, looking towards jean.

he looks so pretty in the moonlight.

“hey jean.”

“yeah, what do you wan—!”

eren interrupts jean by splashing him with water, hearty laughs echoing through the terrain as goes on.

“not cool,” jean tries to say angrily, but ends up laughing.

he splashes eren back and then retreats deeper into the lake. eren follows behind, tackling jean under the water. they both laugh once they come to the surface, pointing out how the water now reached their thighs.

“that’s why we’re here, jean. to get wet,” he raises an eyebrow while putting his hands on jean’s shoulders.

“yeah, heads up!” jean shouts while he dunks eren under the water while on top of him.

they’re once again laughing when they resurface, both trying to catch the breath that had been taken out of them.

“you’re hair looks good wet,” eren says while gesturing to jean.

“i always look good,” jean jokes, eren snorting obnoxiously afterwards.

“whatever helps you sleep at night, man,” eren shrugs.

the two goof around for a few minutes longer, laughs echoing against the trees and back into their ears.

neither of them want this to end.

eren has an arm wrapped around jean as he holds himself up, laughing stupidly at god knows what. jean laughs as well, heart fluttering sweetly at the sight of eren’s pretty smile.

and jean doesn’t know how to think.

so, he pulls eren straight up, grabs ahold of his plump and warm cheeks and gives him a sweet kiss.

the sweetest kiss eren’s ever had.

eren reciprocates shyly, pushing his lips back against jean’s. he grabs at jean’s bicep, wanting to ground himself just to make sure that he isn’t dreaming.

jean pulls away whenever they need air, resting his forehead against eren’s.

“i love you,” he whispers to him breathily, moving his hands to hold onto eren’s.

“i love you too,” eren chuckles and stares into jean’s eyes, ��even if you’re an idiot that looks like a horse.”

jean rolls his eyes, and instead of replying to eren, he gives eren another kiss. he’ll tell eren that he’s pretty after.

[rrickgrrimes8]

Come Clean ~ Dylan x bi!reader

*homophobia is NOT tolerated here at all so piss off if you are thanks ☺️*

This is it.

Today is the day I finally come clean about who I am. Well not fully come clean I still have to tell my parents after this which I kid you not will be a shit show. Today is the day I come out to my boyfriend Dylan.

Now I can hear you guys confused thoughts through the screen. Yes I have a boyfriend. No I am not a lesbian. No I am not straight. Now for the grand reveal... I'm bisexual. I like boys and girls and I'm insanely proud of that. You probably wouldn't think that knowing I haven't told anyone for the first 24 years of my life but I can assure you I am. I've dated girls in the past and I've dated boys. Just because I'm not out to my family and friends doesn't make me ashamed of who I am and who I like.

And the reason that I'm so scared of telling people is because I don't want to lose them. Which I know is something one I can't control and two I should assume that I would lose them if I told them but I know for sure that telling my parents wouldn't end well because let's just say they are massive homophobic assholes and I know that because when I was a freshman in highschool my mom caught me kissing my best friend who is also a girl. My mom immediately kicked her out and called for my dad. She and him were screaming hestrically. Ranting and raving all sorts of bullshit. One being 'im never going to have grandkids. Oh my god I'm never going to be a grandma' but that doesn't beat the beautiful - note the sarcasm - words of my father 'I can't believe I've raised a dyke daughter oh what a disappointment she is'. So let's just say I had a traumatic childhood. As soon as they finished there screaming I just decided it was better to tell them that I was straight and she came onto me then the truth of that I had a massive crush on her. They soon got over that and we never spoke about.

But enough about my parents the real thing I wanted to say is that I'm terrified of losing Dylan. I don't know if Dylan is like my parents - god I hope not - or if he'll support me.

We've been together for almost 3 years and you know the story. Boy meets girl. Girl spills coffee all over him causing him to get severely burned and sent to the hospital prompting girl to be incredibly sorry but boy found her hot and asked her out. You know the usual stuff.

"Hey baby you okay?" Dylan asked snapping me out of the trance I had no clue I was in. I turned to him quickly and looked upon his concerned face. "U-uh fine j-just thinking" I mumbled adjusting my position in Dylan's arms. "Thinking bout what?" He said wearing his insanely adorable smile. "Umm nothing. No one. Nothing" I stumbled over my words causing Dylan to cock his eyebrow at me.

"You sure gorgeous?" I nodded but almost instantly stopped myself. "No actually I'm not okay" I said changing my mind and suddenly finding a rush of courage. "Okay baby what's wrong?" His hand ran through my hair gently combing out the knots in there.

"W-we need to talk" I hummed. Dylan immediately stopped what he was doing and pulled his hand away. His face contorted into a look of sadness and fear. He thinks I'm going to break up with him. "A-about what?" He stuttered clearly anxious to know what I was going to say. When I pulled out of his arms and positioned myself facing him his eyes started to build up small tears but he refused to let them fall.

"A-are you b-breaking up with m-me?" His voice cracked as he spoke and his tears fell freely. "Oh my god no Dylan I'm not breaking up with you." I assured him. "But you might after I tell you this." I whispered to myself sadly and his fearful look left his beautiful face and he whipped his tears away but his face soon turned into a look of concern and worry.

"What is it baby?" He said softly moving his hand to my cheek. "U-um well I need to tell you something." "You can tell me anything" Said the man.

"Uhh well let's see um how can I- Uh I don't know how to" I rambled but was cut off by Dylan's deep chuckle. "Spit it out baby" he teased stroking my check. "I LIKE GIRLS!" I bellowed. The words slipping away from my tongue without my consent. Dylan's hand left my cheek leaving behind a cold feeling and missing of his warmth.

"Y-you like girls?" He questioned more then stated and I nodded my head closing my eyes wanting this moment to be over. He cleared his throat causing my eyes to shoot open. "W-what about me?" Dylan's voice shook slightly his fear of me breaking up with him took control.

"Oh shit" I mumbled under my breath moving onto his lap and straddling him. "I like girls a-and guys Dyl" He furrowed his eyebrows at me inquisitively. "I-I'm bisexual. Bi. The big old bisex as no one calls it" He laughed at my stupidity and I felt myself untense. His laugh calmed by of the scale anxiety filled nerves and I let out a breath that I didn't even know I was holding.

"So what's the big deal baby? Why are you so nervous?" His hand gently rubbed my knee in a way to comfort me. "W-well I-I was kinda scared that maybe just maybe that you'd you know" I said attempting to draw away from the subject knowing he'd just get hurt by it.

"I'd what (y/n)?" "B-break up with me" I spoke shyly and I could see Dylan's face fall. His eyes were consumed by hurt and new formed tears found there way to his cheeks. "Y-you thought I'd break up with you because you're bisexual?" I nodded sadly looking away from him. "I'm sorry" I whispered feeling a pang of guilt in my gut.

"Hey baby there's nothing to be sorry for I-if anything I'm sorry" He reassured me moving closer towards me the process. "W-why would you be sorry?" I cried my head falling down to look at my shaky hands. "Because you're upset about this and that you'd think that my feelings towards you would change if you told me"

"you're feelings haven't changed?" I said a spark of hopefulness ignited inside of me. "No of course not (y/n) I do and always will love you till the day I die. I love every part of you. I love you voice. Your laugh. Your beautiful (y/e/c). Your lips. Your sexy little butt." He joked while moving his hands to my butt squeezing lightly causing me to giggle like a school girl. "I love everything including the fact you like girls. You're sexuality doesn't change anything and I'll love you no matter what." He added igniting a huge undying smile onto my face ignoring the tears that were plastered over my red raw cheeks.

"You mean that?" I asked just wanting to make sure. "More than anything. I've loved you since the first day I met you." "But the first day I met you I put you in the hospital." Dylan laughed while taking my cheeks into his hands lovingly.

"Yes you did but I still knew that one day I'm going to marry you." I was taken aback from his confession. We'd never spoken about marriage or anything a long those lines so him saying this now is quite the shocker.

"But at las that is for another day my love. I love you (y/n). I love you forever." Dylan mummered against my lips before kissing them lightly. "I love you forever and more" you confessed causing Dylan to grin into your passionate kiss.

He loves me no matter what. I thought to myself happily. And I love him too.

[uncurlinglikeflowers]

Queer Trauma, Coming Out, & the Long Road to Self-Love and Healing

As I’ve reflected on my past, I’ve discovered that my adolescence may be one of, if not THE most traumatic time of my life thus far as a queer person. The last few months with my incredible therapist have made me realize that the years of anxiety, panic, fear, self-loathing, confusion, and depression have scarred me deeper than I had previously thought. She also made me realize that this is at least partially because I have never really talked about it openly and in depth in a healthy and productive way before, which is what inspired me to start this blog to share my experiences with others that are currently struggling with their identity, or to allow those that are also currently healing from the trauma of their previously closeted life feel a little more seen.

I knew from a VERY young age that I was different, but didn’t know how or what it meant. I was a lonely kid for a lot of my childhood without many friends. I didn’t want to play football with the boys during recess. I sought companionship at lunch with a table full of girls more often than not, which in itself also made me feel incredibly self conscious at the time as well. 

I asked, (with incredible shame) for the “girl’s toy” from the backseat in the McDonald’s drive-thru because I loved to play with the mini-Barbies and craft entire storylines for them. They were easier to hide in my room than regular sized Barbies. I spent most summers off school alone playing video games and reading book and book after book. I didn’t really click with the boys down the street. I was obsessed with Britney Spears and the color purple. I was lonely without really knowing what it meant.

I feel as though that fear I felt in my childhood and adolescence held me back from SO much. Middle school in particular was absolute hell. I hated it. I always felt constantly insecure and uncomfortable. I had absolutely zero confidence or self love. I hated my body and how I looked. 

While other kids experienced their first relationships and first feelings of romantic love, I was convinced that it was just not a possibility for me. On top of being deeply closeted, scared, confused, lonely, and in deep denial, girls didn’t go for me anyway. I was the awkward chunky guy struggling with his identity feeling like he had to make up for it by working extra hard to get perfect grades and give himself 100% to other people. I tried not to think about it too much, but hearing about relationships, seeing people kiss in the hallways between classes, and girls talking about what they liked in boys which was the complete opposite of me... it was hell.

To make my self consciousness worse, I felt supremely uncomfortable in gym class and the boys’ locker room in particular. I was ashamed of my body and also self conscious for wanting to look at the other boys; terrified that they would catch on and beat me senseless. Hearing them consistently call each other f*g in a very VERY negative context drove me deep into the closet as the identity I already felt shame for was directly correlated with being a ridiculed outcast, and something that was inherently, disgustingly wrong and unacceptable. The worst insult teenage boys could deliver to each other in the safety of an unchaperoned locker room in a hick town often not kind to queer people or those that were different. I SO desperately wanted to fit in with the other boys instead of being any version of who I actually was.

Part of that façade of blending in with my hetero peers involved having a girlfriend for two months in 8th grade. We didn’t even kiss, let alone approach any sexual situations. I’m sure she had her suspicions. I was utterly obsessed with the concept of blending in by having a girlfriend like the other boys and just having someone special in my life, even if we really didn’t even do any couple things. 

Upon reflection, I don’t think the concept of ever being sexual with her ever crossed my mind in the slightest. Even the idea of kissing her scared the hell out of me, and not just from first kiss nerves. Deep down I knew it wasn’t right for me. Don’t EVER tell a kid they’re too young to know. Fast forward to modern times, my first kiss with a girl was with a close friend YEARS after I came out. Go figure. 

The idea of caring about and loving myself was non-existent at that time. It’s a very VERY new and ongoing journey for me. I didn’t really care about myself at all. I hadn’t learned how to. Mom was in and out of cancer treatments, and would later pass during my senior year of college and kick off my coming out process, but that’s a whole other post for another day. Spending pretty much my entire childhood watching mom deal with being sick, I didn’t want to cause my family any more discomfort. I was full of self loathing, fear, and confusion, but it seemed irrelevant and unimportant because I didn’t want to be a hindrance. 

Instead, I tried so desperately to be the perfect kid and son by befriending my teachers, being a model student, and joining band and a bunch of organizations to stay as busy as possible to stay distracted and impress everyone else.I didn’t love myself because I didn’t think I was allowed to or deserved to in my own head. While I did finally make more meaningful friends in high school, I continued to go through the motions to make my family proud to make up for the scared closeted kid who thought he had to make up for his queerness as though it were a shameful weakness, and it seemed to be the only thing that could possibly matter at the time.

Non-surprisingly, I never really knew any openly queer boys in grade school. It probably legitimately wasn’t all that safe to come out in that environment. I’ll never forget the two boys I saw holding hands in a Wal-Mart that absolutely shook up my entirely reality, because I had never seen romantic same-sex affection in person before. 

There was a lesbian couple at my school, but people said awful, degrading things about them behind their backs constantly and acted like they were the biggest freaks. Another boy in my grade in high school hadn’t come out yet officially but was very flamboyant, and thus was treated just as awful as the lesbian couple, if not worse. Other kids just regularly said despicable things about him without even knowing him at all. I even heard parents make blatantly homophobic jokes about him. 

His life had to have been hell, and as a fully out queer adult, I still regret not being able to stand up for him more. That definitely forced me deeper into the closet. He wasn’t even out but got talked about like he was some disgusting abomination. How could I ever assume that I could ever come out, let alone kiss, date, and love another boy? I HATED the idea of any attention being placed on me, so I just wanted to survive school at that point.

I had multiple people throughout high school ask me if I were gay just as though it were the most casual question rather than a triggering inquiry that sent me into a mental frenzy every damn time it was presented. Having one of the jock boys ask me such a deeply personal question in passing on the way to my seat in Algebra class was traumatizing. I of course always said no, as at the time I was still convinced it was a passing phase and that I couldn’t actually be gay. 

At home, in the days of Myspace, I got anonymous messages telling me they were pretty sure I was gay. The anonymity was arguably worse in some ways. 

At a young age, I became hyper aware of how I carried myself, talked, and acted. I loathed hearing my voice or seeing myself in pictures, for fear of sounding too feminine or standing or emoting too gay. I obsessed over the concept that boys and girls carried their books a certain way, or the boys would be labelled as queer. I was paranoid about where I shopped for clothes, the colors I wore, and the length and fit of my shorts. 

In middle school, I got a lilac colored trapper keeper for school that I ultimately had my parents take back to the store for a different one because I felt so self conscious about it all day. At home I played with my little Barbies, but didn’t dare tell the kids at school for fear of rejection and isolation. Overall, I felt grossly incompetent, irrelevant, and unimportant in my own mind. Unworthy of love and of course, deeply ashamed for my attraction to the other boys.

I never had anyone whatsoever to help guide me through the coming out process, because I didn’t know a single queer person who could. I’ve now dedicated a good amount of my energy trying to be that person I desperately could have used then for anyone else that needs that role to be filled, and for someone to tell them that someone is incredibly proud of them. An obscene amount of queer people don’t ever hear “I’m so proud of you!” when they really need it the most. 

I also didn’t have any good queer representation on TV or in movies, so I really did feel completely alone at times. Most queer characters in media existedly solely to be made fun of and mocked, ratcher than celebrated, properly represented, or God forbid, given a legitimate love story, and the public’s reaction was so frequently one of such repugnance and disapproval. 

This was also probably about the time that a close family member told me that he had punched a gay guy for hitting on him when he was younger, a story he again felt the need to share with a now ex-boyfriend and I when we were dating, as though that’s not a horrifying thing for an already scared and closeted queer to hear from their own family. 

I think during middle school in particular is when my anxiety and depression issues started, but I assumed either that I was being a baby and that my feelings were invalid, or that it was just teenage angst. The idea that boys and men should mask their emotions and feelings and feel shame rather than expressing them was, (and seemingly appears to continue to be) a very real thing in small towns and society in general. 

It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was experiencing varying levels of almost daily trauma that would fuck me up well into adulthood. If you take anything at all from this post, let it be that the conversation around mental health, (and men in particular in this instance) NEEDS to change.

Another particularly noteworthy event in my queer adolescence was when two of my friends, (both girls, shocker) discovered gay porn on my computer. While they pestered me about if it were mine while they laughed, I of course lied. I felt a deep shame and utter humiliation. On reflection, fucking IMAGINE if they had been able to be gentle and understanding with me and told me they loved me and still would even if I were gay. From then on I was terrified that they would bring that day up to our other friends as a joke. Perhaps they did a time or two, I don’t recall. These same friends made jokes about the queer kid I mentioned earlier, and both parents of one of the girls regularly gossiped and made homophobic jokes about him when I was at their house 

By the time school dances rolled around, I knew I would never be able to go with anyone but friends. Even if I weren’t still deeply closeted, I’m pretty sure my school still had pretty strict rules against bringing same-sex dates to Prom. While I definitely had fun with my friends at the dances we went to, I so desperately longed for a world where I could dance with a boy who loved me like everyone else was able to.

The loneliness and isolation I felt at the end of those nights could be unbearable because it didn’t seem possible for me, even as I looked into the future. I was fully convinced I would live a very lonely life without anyone to love me the way I craved. I didn’t belong in that world, and wouldn’t ever be set up for that kind of happiness, joy, and feeling of content. I would live for everyone else but myself because that’s just the way the world worked for us queers.

I wish I had had just one single person then who gave me full permission to be my authentic queer self on any level. Someone who could hug me and tell me life after high school and college could and would be vastly different. Someone to tell me I wasn’t an unlovable disgusting freak, but rather a kind-hearted boy who deserved a deep love someday because I was a valid and gentle soul who deserved the world. I certainly deserved more than the shame and pain that constantly haunted me. 

Maybe then I wouldn’t have thought about death before 30 so much and obsessed over it well into my college career. I might have realized that I needed to learn to be gentle with myself and take care of and prioritize me and my own happiness. So many people let me down and convinced me that I was a filthy sinner and an over-emotional kid with invalid perspectives and feelings. As most of my closest friends, (that I cannot stress enough have been the ones to save my life and encourage the authenticity that I present so proudly today) came into my life after I had already come out fully, they weren’t around during those dark early struggles. 

Sometimes as an adult I still wonder what it would have felt like and how profoundly different my life could be if someone had held me close and sincerely told me they’re proud of me for what I survived and overcame, and told me that they can’t wait to see my eyes light up with the love I’ve always dreamed of in a boy, and that I still continue to seek. 

Young, baby gay Travis would be in absolute awe if he knew what life had in store for him back then. To see a future version of himself painting his nails, wearing whatever he wanted, dancing with strangers at pride festivals, having the time of his life at drag shows with his queer family and falling in love with boys? Proudly holding a boyfriend’s hand walking downtown in a busy city? Openly telling his dad about the cute boy he’s going on a date with? Going Facebook official with a boy? Being a super vocal advocate and inspiration and mentor to not only queer family, but to people he hardly talks to but manages to influence and inspire just by unashamedly being himself? Genuinely looking forward to kissing his new husband in front of family and friends on his wedding day, knowing it’ll be one of the happiest days of his entire life? 

Holy. Actual. Fuck.

Travis of six or seven years ago wouldn’t have even dared to dream this big, let alone baby gay Travis. He probably would have been utterly mortified but SO comforted to see that future life when he didn’t believe it to be any level of possible.

I’m so fucking proud of myself for this journey, and no one will ever take that away from me or water down my trauma or the grueling work I’ve put in. Genuinely, this is the one thing in my life that makes me absolutely burst with pride. 

I think I want to learn how to keep baby Travis in mind with this pride without having to revisit the trauma in the process. Look back at him with open arms, excited to see him learn and blossom into his actual self someday. Even if he could have desperately used someone like the me I am today, he survived then, and continues to persevere today. 

He’s queer as fuck, and proud to shout it from the rooftops. He’s a voice and an advocate for the voiceless. A shining light and beacon of hope for those still navigating their terrifying escape from their closeted life. He’s going to meet a man someday and love him so deeply in the way baby Travis always dreamed of. Above all, he’s going to continue to make that little guy so incredibly proud because he knows now the importance of loving himself in the process. 

I’m so proud of that scared little boy. I just wish he could have known then how proud he would make himself one day.   

As you talk with the queer people in your life, please keep in mind that just about all of us have incredible trauma directly tied to our identities. Talk to them with love, compassion, and understanding. Tell them how proud of them you are for pursuing their own happiness in the face of oppression and rejection. 

Demand better from elected officials. Advocate for us. Shut down homophobic ideals, even if you think it’ll make your family and friends uncomfortable to hear. Support queer content, artists and creators. Be a proud ally, but don’t ever allow yourself to take the spotlight away from actual queer people or our queer spaces. Mourn, love, and celebrate with us. 

Understand why pride is SO fucking important to us, and why you never have to worry about needing your own pride events. Listen to us and love us for exactly who we are, and were always meant to be. Love is the most incredible, beautiful, and often rare human experience we’re able to experience during our short time on this planet, and it should always be celebrated.

Happy Pride!

[missjanjie]

Better Than Revenge | Chapter 3

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.7k (this chapter) | ~8k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Gigi, Symone, and Denali's revenge origin stories

-

Woodstock, IL — 2016

Gigi took a deep breath as she stared at herself in the mirror. She could do this, it was fine. Every time her suspicions or confusion would bubble up, she forced them back down. Hannah was nice, she was different from the other popular girls. She didn’t see the ‘weird art lesbian’ with the braces and thick-rimmed glasses, who rarely got pop culture references post-1989, at least, that’s how she made her feel.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” she assured her mother as she threw her bag over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, I’m just hanging out with a friend.” She was out to her mom, of course, that was her biggest ally. But she wasn’t ready to tell her that the head cheerleader had taken an interest in her. Maybe when and if they became official. Until then, she shook off the last of her nerves and drove to her house, only pulled from her thoughts by the time she was sitting on Hannah’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Hannah cooed, batting her lashes and resting her hand on Gigi’s thigh.

If Gigi hadn’t been so blinded by her crush, she might’ve thought Hannah was laying it on a little thick, but she couldn’t act like she didn’t enjoy the attention. “Me too, a-about you, I mean. Sorry, I’m just nervous…”

“How come? I didn’t come on too strong over text, did I?”

“No, no I liked it, it’s just… I’m a virgin, like, I’ve only ever kissed before,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing rosy pink. She had talked a big game over text, but being faced with the chance of starting a physical relationship brought her back to reality.

Hannah pouted, rubbing Gigi’s thigh as she thought, letting her hand inch higher. “Well, you’ve got fantasies, don’t you? I know you’ve masturbated before. What do you think about while you touch yourself?”

Gigi hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. The other girl wasn’t wrong, she did know what she liked, could conjure up vivid imagery to get herself aroused, but she had never said any of it out loud. “I like powerful, confident women. I guess that’s something that drew me to you,” she started, “I wanna just… give up control, be dominated.”

“Really? Tell me more,” Hannah prompted, kissing along her neck and jaw and slowly tugging Gigi’s shirt off in an attempt to coax her to continue.

When Hannah didn’t seem deterred by her confession, Gigi started to relax. “It’s just, I don’t know, I always feel the need to be in control of my life and with sex, I just wanna let go and give up that power.”

“So like, what would you want someone to do to you?” she asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

She bit down on her lip. “Um… tie me up, spank me, choke me, and I know it’s kind of intense but maybe something like cnc or—” the incessant buzzing of her phone distracted her and, concerned it might be an urgent call or text from home, she took her phone out. “Sorry, one sec.”

It wasn’t from home, she had two missed calls from her best friend, Crystal, followed by several texts.

Crystal: GIGI STOP Crystal: SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Crystal: She’s broadcasting you on IG live! Crystal: We can see and hear everything…

Gigi’s face fell, her first instinct to pull her shirt back on. Then she slowly looked up and in front of her, that’s when she saw it, nestled between stuffed animals — Hannah’s phone with an instagram live going. She didn’t say anything, just ran out of the house as fast as her legs would take her and through her tears drove right to Crystal’s house. That was when the two of them formed their plot.

In and of itself, it was simple. Gigi waited one day until Hannah was away for a cheer competition and went to her house. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Andrews, but I think I left some of my homework in Hannah’s room, she just said to let you know so I can run in and grab it.” Once inside, she found exactly what she was looking for, sliding Hannah’s diary into her backpack and went right back out.

“This feels very Mean Girls, I love it,” Crystal remarked as they taped page after page of the diary on lockers, walls, anywhere they could.

“Well, plan B was to go the Heathers route, so let’s just hope it works.”

And to say it worked was an understatement. As it turned out, Hannah had written things far more incriminating, and because it came from someone of her social ranking, it made everyone immediately lose interest in Gigi’s livestream scandal, and she graduated with the anonymity she needed for survival.

Present Day

“I’ll be honest with you,” Rosé remarked, “it’s kinda hard to picture you as an ugly duckling, especially the way you described it.” Gigi was too pretty, too perfect. Something didn’t add up.

Gigi got out her phone and scrolled through her photos until she found one from her senior year. “Believe it, doll,” she said as she held her phone up. She watched with an amused expression as Rosé looked from her phone, to her, and back with her eyes wide and mouth agape. “Braces off, lasik, learned a lot about how to dress while going to FIDM, which is where I met Symone, who helped fill in the blanks.”

“And made sure she got to do all them things she listed to that bitch without feeling ashamed about it,” Symone added with a smirk, draping her arm around Gigi and pulling her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Why don’t you tell her your story next, baby?” Gigi prompted.

Conway, AR — 2014

Symone watched her sister throw her bag over her shoulder and start to sneak out the window. “Look, I ain’t snitching or nothing, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

She and her sister, Lala, were close, sometimes referring to themselves as twins – they were only ten months apart, in the same grade at school. And until the summer after sophomore year, they had the same group of friends. But the crowd Lala ran with now just rubbed her the wrong way.

“You worry too much,” Lala brushed it off. “I’ll be fine, in bed by morning like nothing happened.”

But when Symone got a collect call two hours later, she found out things were far from fine. She drove down to the county jail as fast as she could without getting pulled over herself. Luckily bail was a mere fifty dollars, but once she got her sister back in the car, she looked at her incredulously. “What the fuck happened?”

“One of ‘em brought weed, another brought booze, but when the cops rolled up on us, they said it all was mine. And who was they gonna believe, me or three white kids?” Lala sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me,” she whispered.

“I don’t either,” Symone admitted quietly, frustrated at her inability to come up with an immediate solution. “But we’re gonna do our best to get you out of this, okay?”

The best they could do wasn’t easy. It involved a lot of legal maneuvering, meetings with one person in a suit after another. The end result wasn’t ideal, but it was far better than what could have been. Lala was fined three hundred dollars and put on thirty days of probation. In and of itself, it didn’t seem so bad, but the residual consequences took their toll.

“I lost my scholarship, ‘mone. That was my ticket into college,” Lala sighed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m getting off with a slap on the wrist, but I really ain’t thrilled about taking out student loans,” she sat down on the floor beside the bed, head leaning against it. “Or maybe I’ll start with community college, I dunno. It just fucking sucks that they all got off with warnings.”

Symone’s brows knitted together, her lips pressed into a fine line. “Don’t you worry baby,” she said after a moment, “they gon’ face consequences one way or another.”

It had taken most of spring break, but Symone finally had all of the pieces for her plan. “Not the most convoluted thing in the world, but it’ll get the job done,” she mused.

Lala looked at her sister, then at her desk and back. “Do I even wanna know where the hell you got coke from?”

“No, you do not.”

Getting the drugs was the hard part. Getting into school early to plant the drugs in the lockers of Lala’s former friends was far easier, as was leaving an ‘anonymous tip’ from a ‘concerned student’ on the principal’s desk.

“God, I wish I could’ve seen them get hauled off in cop cars,” Lala remarked as she and Symone drove home from school. The three students were quietly escorted out of class and arrested, the school wanting to bring as little attention as possible. “Shame that they rich daddies will still get them off lightly.”

Symone sighed and nodded. “Sure, but they’re still gonna get something, which is more than what they got when they threw you under the bus. Bet they’re gonna think twice before they let someone else take the fall for them.”

Her sister smiled softly and shook her head. “You really ain’t gotta do all that for me, you know?”

“I know,” she hummed, “not gonna stop me, though.”

Present Day

“Wow, that’s both selfless and hardcore,” Rosé remarked with an impressed nod. “Did she ever find out where you got the coke from?”

Symone laughed and shook her head. “Nah, that secret I’m taking to the grave.”

Rosé jokingly put her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fair enough,” she chuckled. After a moment, she turned her attention to Denali. “That just leaves you, princess,” she remarked, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s your claim to infamy?”

Denali tossed her hair off her shoulder and grinned softly. “Who, me?” she cooed, fluttering her lashes. “Well, it is kind of an interesting story…”

Nicky rolled her eyes and tossed one of the couch pillows at her head. “Stop flirting and get on with it already.”

Fairbanks, AK — 2011

Denali groaned when the sound of loud footsteps racing up the stairs pulled her from her quasi-asleep state, then pulled a pillow over her head when the door swung open.

“What the hell are you still doing in bed when the qualifiers are in two hours?” her friend, Kahmora, asked with incredulous horror. She yanked the covers off of her, but stepped back in concern when she finally caught sight of Denali’s face. “Oh god, you look like shit.”

She frowned and rolled over to face away from her. “I feel like I died and was in the process of being reanimated, then killed again,” she lamented. “It’s probably food poisoning… or maybe swine flu came back, I dunno.”

“Did you eat anything unusual?”

Denali furrowed her brows as she wracked her brain. “I mean, Tara gave me those brownies and I had one, but when she said they were ‘special’, I just thought she meant they had weed in them, but that sure as hell isn’t it.” With as much energy as she could muster, she sat upright. “Oh my god, do you think she poisoned me?”

Kahmora arched her brow. “I think that’s a bit much, even for her. Do I think she put something like a laxative in there so it’d take you out long enough that you couldn’t beat her out in the international qualifiers? Yeah, probably. She’s a cunt.”

The skater scowled, her jaw clenched. “She’s a dead cunt,” she corrected, then suddenly shot out of bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered as she raced to the bathroom yet again.

There wasn’t an obvious revenge plan for Denali. She knew that nothing she did would get her spot in the competition, and she wondered if it was even worth it. But her pettiness and spite won out and she began planning out her course of action.

“Remember,” she was saying, “if all else fails, we go the Tonya Harding route.”

Kahmora sighed. “For the last time, you are not whacking Tara’s kneecaps, now let’s go.” Despite some pouting from Denali, they went to get the gears turning in their plan. They got to the ice rink and slipped into the locker room without being noticed by Tara, who was in the middle of practice.

Denali picked the lock and took out Tara’s change of clothes. Then she reached into her own bag and pulled on latex gloves and a plastic bag containing several leaves of poison ivy. She turned the shirt, pants, and socks inside out and firmly rubbed the leaves against the fabric, making sure she left as little fabric uncovered as possible. “She’s lucky I’m merciful or I’d rub it on her panties too,” she remarked offhandedly.

Kahmora tilted her head as she watched her. “Do you actually think it’ll take her out of the competition?” she asked as her friend put the leaves and gloves into the ziploc bag.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s possible, probable really, that the constant itching might make it too difficult for her to skate. But this is more about getting even with her. I might not ever get another chance to compete for internationals. She’s lucky the only retribution she’s getting is a few weeks of itchy blisters.”

“Otherwise you’d Tonya Harding her?”

Denali nodded brightly. “Exactly! Now come on, we have to get rid of the evidence.” And with that, they scurried out of the locker room as inconspicuously as they’d entered it and threw out the evidence in a trash can several blocks over.

When the news broke that Tara had withdrawn from the competition due to ‘unexpected physical problems’, Denali did her best to feign shock and didn’t celebrate until she and Kahmora were alone.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” Kahmora asked.

Denali tilted her head in thought, then smirked. “Let’s go get brownies.”

Present Day

“Personally, I still think you should’ve busted her knees,” Mik mused offhandedly. “Like, I bet you would’ve figured out a way to get away with it, you conniving bitch,” he teased.

Denali shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not very original and it’d look a lot more suspicious on my end.”

“I think it was pretty badass,” Rosé offered, making the other woman smile which, in turn, made her heart flutter — something she chose to actively ignore. Instead, she let all of their stories sink in. None of their reasons for revenge were out of line, none of their victims undeserving. And none of the consequences were as severe as some of the things she had seen in her time. “You all really know what you’re doing, huh?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to keep this up for three years if we didn’t,” Jan replied. “We had all of the potential on our own, but we make a difference together, and then we added Jackie to tie up the loose ends. It’s been smooth sailing from there.”

“Yeah, and now Jackie ties you up instead,” Nicky teased, earning an eye roll in response.

Rosé watched the group interact with a fond smile. She had assumed they all got along to be working together for as long as they have been, but she hadn’t anticipated them truly behaving like a family. It was a stark contrast to the constant coldness and curtness she had grown accustomed to, both in her previous career and in the environment she grew up in. She only hoped it would make the tasks ahead that much easier for them.

[random-imagines-blog]

Promise Me Part 2 {Reggie Mantle x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2244 Summary: Some people aren’t taking the kindest to your budding relationship. Sequel to Promise Me, Part 1 Found Here (X)

The only thing better than hanging out with Reggie at school was the reactions from the other students. Especially your ex boyfriend Sweet Pea. Karma came around and knocked him off of his ass, just as you were hoping. Her summer fling, Josie, had dumped him for Archie Andrews, just the way that he had dumped you for her. A petty side of you was happy about that. He deserved it. He got to be grumpy around the halls of Riverdale High while you walked around with Reggie following you like some kind of lovesick puppy. After you had taken him out for his birthday, showed him a good time with a bunch of drag Queens and sugary alcohol-free drinks, he’d taken to you even more. Didn’t even complain when he had to ride bitch on the back of your motorcycle back to your snug little town.

“Are you ready for the test today?” Reggie asked, somewhat sarcastically. You had been blowing him off lately to study for this exam. You really needed to do well on it to pass this class, since you had been just cruising through it instead of trying. It was now or never.

You took your study notes out of your pocket, where they had been crumpled up for a couple of hours, and slammed them down on the cafeteria table. “You have no idea how ready I am, Mantle.” You said with a smirk. You flattered out the pieces of paper and went right back to studying them while Reggie sat beside you and made sure that your hair didn’t get into your food. You were eating without paying attention, and if he hadn’t stepped in, you probably would have eaten a lock or two. You were appreciative of it, but never knew how to show that sort of thing.

You never thought that this would have worked out. Reggie, with his range of emotions - most of them fueled by negativity, like jealousy and arrogance but once in a while, he showed you something nice. Meanwhile, your brother Jughead had once complained that you had the emotional range of a knife. But yet there was something between you two. Something more than you had ever felt with Sweet Pea. This in no way felt like a relationship out of convenience.

“When you pass, I’ll take you out to Pop’s, we’ll get milkshakes,” Reggie said, clipping your hair back for the upteenth time.

“Yay, another milkshake,” You said, deadpan as always. “We always go for  milkshakes, Reg, I think that this deserves something a little more special. What about our secret place?”

“What, you showed him your stupid secret place?”A voice came from behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Sweet Pea. Now that he didn’t have Josie to focus on, his attention had been on you again. Love notes, flowers, trying to sit next to you in class. You had told him to fuck off so many times, it might as well have become your catchphrase. But there he was, always there, right out of the corner of your eye, listening to everything that you were saying. “I’ve known you forever and you never took me there.”

“Guess you just weren’t special enough,” You said with a shrug. You got to your feet, shoved your notes back into your pocket and smiled rarely at Reggie. “Come on, walk to me class.”

“Yes ma’am,” Reggie said with a smirk, getting to his feet. He purposefully pushed past your ex boyfriend as he followed behind you, neither of you looking back. The Serpent wasn’t worth it. That was something you had come to learn and fully believed.

-

You wore the top that your mother had gotten you and sent in the mail. It was plain, but flowy, and didn’t have the leather look that you had come to be known for. All black t-shirts and jackets, comfortable things. But this was a special night - even to the point where you were allowing Reggie to pick you up in his car. This shirt was a dark purple color, not quite black, but still enough to where you felt yourself while wearing it.

There was a honking noise outside the trailer. You still had never let  him come inside. You weren’t ashamed of the little home that you shared with your dad and your brother, but you also didn’t want to see the look of distaste that Reggie would no doubt have on his face.

With a last glimpse in the mirror, strange how feminine you looked today, you left the trailer and walked over to the car that didn’t look like it belonged in this neighborhood at all. It was too nice. And too clean. People were no doubt peeking out their windows to see who were there and who they were there for. With your usual level of confidence, you strode to the car and got inside, only to be greeted by a huge smile and an arm around your hug from Reggie Mantle. “ONE HUNDRED BABY!”

Yes, you had gotten a hundred percent on your test. That was the main reason why you were letting Reggie drive. Because you were so damn excited, that you might try to bribe one of the bartenders to put a shot into your drink. No one really messed with the gay bar, so cops were unlikely to show up. It was hard to ID people when they were dressed as the opposite gender, anyhow. “It’s not that big of a deal,” You said, shrugging his arm off and put on the seatbelt. What an unfamiliar feeling. You spent more time on bikes than you ever did in cars, and those did not come with seatbelts.

“You’re allowed to be happy and excited for things you know,” He said, his smile slightly faltering. “It’s just us. And I’ve seen you happy before.”

“It’s just embarrassing,” You muttered, sinking into the seat. “Having ... feelings.”

Reggie took that as a huge compliment, and it helped to boost his ego. “So you have feelings for me, eh?” He asked with a huge grin.

“Oh stop,” You said, rolling your eyes. “Is it such a surprise that beneath this hard exterior is just soft, pink flesh? I am still human, after all.”

“A bit,” Reggie said with a shrug, focusing his eyes on the row as he tried to find his way out of the trailer park. The streets were thin and like a maze. “You just hide them so well, it’s hard to tell you have any.”

“I wouldn’t be hanging out with you if I didn’t, you dolt.” You sunk into the comfortable leather seats of the car, letting yourself relax now that you were leaving the park. You still had to give him directions to the gay bar, but he was getting the hang of the journey. “People just suck. They break down your walls, just to hurt you so you have to build them back up and stronger. I don’t like being vulnerable.”

“People are assholes,” Reggie agreed, thinking of his on again off again thing with Veronica. He hadn’t thought much about it since you had come into his life, actually.

Rather than get into more conversations about emotions, you turned up the music and rolled down the window, sticking your head out. “Fuck standardized testing!” You yelled out as you drove past the school. Reggie laughed at that, wondering how you could go from steady as a rock to being this free and liberated within a matter of seconds. He’d never met anyone like you before. Never met anyone who truly did not give a fuck about what other people thought of them.

The bar was busy tonight. Friday nights usually were, but there wasn’t a single person there who you recognized from Riverdale. It would be hard for any of them to get in, considering you and Reggie were the only ones that were allowed in under age. Only when you weren’t around the judgmental looks of your peers did you really feel like you could be yourself. You didn’t care what other people said, it was just the fact that they were saying anything that bothered you.

You ordered more of the virgin cocktails that you liked so much, so syrupy sweet. You drained the first one quickly, and felt the sugar remaining in your system. “Dance with me,” You said to Reggie, holding your hand out to him. And he did. He came out onto the dance floor with you and the dressed up Queens and made sure that you had a damn good time.

So good a time that you didn’t notice that there was a familiar face in the crowd. And hand that was connected to the body that was connected to that face had his phone out and was recording video.

-

“Did you hear that they go to gay bars together?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if y/n was a lesbian. I wouldn’t want to date a guy again if he did what Sweet Pea did-”

“Reggie’s dad is going to kill him.”

“A hidden drag Queen?”

The words followed you and Reggie around the next morning as you met at your locker and he walked you to your class, just as he always did. His jaw was clenched, a vein popping in his forehead. You understood his anger - his dad would really would get pissed off about this sort of thing. You had heard the rumors. And you had seen the bruises that Reggie refused to talk about, but you never pushed the issue.

It was pushing at your own anger issues as well. You didn’t like this sort of attention - why the hell couldn’t Cheryl do something daring to get the attention onto her, the way she liked it? Burn down her house again or something. You’d give her all your money to do that at this point.

The most amazing thing though, was despite all of these looks and the rumors and the jokes, Reggie stood by your side. He picked you up from your first class, and took you to your second. And then he picked you up from there and took you to lunch. His shoulders were more tense than they usually were, and he had started to grind his teeth. Something would have to be done before both of you exploded.

Everyones eyes were on you when you stepped into the cafeteria. Even your brother’s, though they looked hurt - you never even told him about your special place. Sweet Pea, sitting beside Jughead, looked pissed. You stopped before you got in line, and Reggie bumped into you from behind. You turned around to face him, looking up into his dark eyes. You were always astounded by the sharp jawline that he had, and those cheekbones - he was a fuckin’ hunk.

“I’m bisexual, not a lesbian,” You said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Not that it’s anyone’s fucking business. And if you’re that damn concerned about Reggie, well...”

You had to stand on your tiptoes because he was so tall. You leaned against him, pressing his chest against yours, using him to steady yourself. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him in for a kiss that should ease any doubt in anyone’s mind.

There was a pounding sound on the edge of the room that made you startle yourself out of the bliss that Reggie’s lips had blossomed in you. Expecting it to be a teacher, you turned around, only to see Sweet Pea was raging his way towards you, the chair that he was sitting in pushed to the ground. You turned around, straightening your shoulders, ready to get into a fight with your ex-boyfriend if this was how it was going to end up. You weren’t about to let Reggie defend you, that’s not the sort of girl that you were.

“You don’t deserve her, Mantle,” Sweet Pea sneered, his nostrils flaring.

“Neither did you,” Reggie said in return. He put his arm around your waist, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Get over yourself, Sweet Pea,” You said, not liking the way that they were talking as if you weren’t even there. “So what, Kevin Keller takes a video of us dancing and that, for some reason, is all of your business? I’ll be the first to admit that we aren’t as interesting as you seem to think that we are. You really want something to focus on in that video? Learn some style from those Queens, you boring peasants.”

Reggie laughed for the first time that day at your comments. You leaned back against his chest, motioning for him to back up. “Let’s go to Pop’s,” He suggested.

“Anywhere that’s not here,” You said, exchanging his arm for his hand, holding it tight as you left the cafeteria, leaving even more gossip behind you but at least it was about the kiss rather than rumors of you both being gay.

Fuck the high school rumor mill.

[kaypeace21]

i’m a survivor too, and i found that certain scenes/stuff will said just really struck me as ‘csa-survivor’-like? i felt a bit uncomfortable about headcanoning it happening to someone else, especially for a fandom as wild as this one, but your metas have really been a comfort to me because they’ve been able to pick out and explain things that i couldn’t necessarily find the words for myself.

and yeah, i would love to have a character like me that is powerful and who finds love and who gets a happy ending. the people who call the theory disgusting always kinda hit wrong with me because although csa is a difficult subject, we shouldn’t be ashamed about sharing it. they sound like they’re trying to say that it’s a bad topic to talk about and implying that it can’t happen to kids, which uhhhhh-

(i’m sure that’s not what they mean, precisely, but it’s still what they sound like, and i wish that they would stop implying that we can’t exist, especially in popular media. we do, and i’m not gonna pretend we don’t, and if they feel uncomfortable with the topic they can just use the block button. we deserve to have some well written representation just as much as anyone else. also, i really really hope that will gets a happy ending.)

anywayyyy i love your theories and i can see your post in the tag so i think you’re fine?? have a good day ❤️❤️❤️

SORRY, this ask took so long to respond to. It always warms my heart to hear other survivors speak and say they found comfort in my theory.

Yes, I think I and a lot of c*a/r*pe victims (subconscious or otherwise) were triggered by some of the symbolism/visuals in s1-3. And s3 made it hard for most of us to ignore the past imagery- since s3 wasn’t as subtle.

I get why people have reservations about the theory. But the debates to the contrary are usually just plain offensive. Or people trying to be respectful but being the opposite. There’s the obvious bad-apples . I got many anons after part 1 of my DID theory saying it “ruined/tainted byler”, and “if that happened to Will i’ll stop shipping byler” , or that it  “ruins the best gay character” ,  and to “remove the post immediately”. And this was when I was open about being a gay c*a victim. I obviously blocked them. Many survivors don’t come forward because they’re afraid people will see them as “tainted”, “ruined”, “ just their trauma”, or blame them for what happened. So yeah, it pisses me off when people say similar stuff about Will (and thus other c*a victims). Not even diving into the messed up psychology about byler/mileven shippers (knowing i was a lesbian c*a victim) but purposely spreading bs rumors about me being a p*do that was into Will/Noah-all because of the theory. -_-

Then there’s the people who try to be “respectful” but literally do the opposite.

I’ve heard numerous times it’s somehow “less offensive” to just use r*pe imagery to make monsters scary. Rather than have  the monsters have that imagery cause Will created the monsters from his memory/imagination-and st is a story of Will healing from that trauma. SORRY- I disagree. Using the worst experiences of peoples’ lives (and triggering their trauma) for no real purpose- except to make their monsters scarier to the normal/general audience who haven’t gone through it so won’t be triggered like us - is MORE OFFENSIVE to victims! NOT LESS! At least to me.

Then there’s the people who say “c*a should never be talked about (in stories).” Which I disagree with. V*ctims have already been told by ab*ser’s  and enablers of the ab*ser- to never talk about what happened to us  . So it rubs A LOT of us the wrong way when people say this.  Because (subconscious or not) you remind some of us of the people who used to hurt/silence us. People say this -simply for their convenience (like ab*sers) and cause deep down they’re uncomfortable with our existence and equate the despicable act to us the innocent v*ctim ...or just want to deny the horrible reality of the situation (like many enablers who deny the truth and hurt us because they don’t want to accept reality) . And 1) It brings us back to a time where they told us to NEVER talk about it- and makes us feel like we did something wrong when we didn’t! 2) Every psych professional says with-holding/keeping the ab*se a secret is detrimental to our mental health.

Plus, there’s a HUGE difference between sugarcoating/minimizing trauma or WORSE glamorizing, condoning, or romanticizing C*A in stories (ex: pretty little liars) VS showing how the action is wrong, causes trauma, but showing recovery and happiness is still possible for v*ctims.  if the story shows how accurately traumatizing it is (instead of minimizing/glamorizing it)- it’s incredibly rare for that character to get a happy ending. Having a story about recovering from that type of trauma and finding happiness despite such hardships would be amazing for US survivors! We rarely get stories with a happy ending-  it’s more harmful to us survivors to never see ourselves get happy endings in tv/film/books. How can some survivors (in a dark place) think there’s a light at the end of the tunnel- if it’s never shown?Also if Will has DID too- it’s good mental health rep, along with queer rep (and survivor’s rep.) All 3 groups rarely are treated well or get happy endings in media. A lot of people may feel more heard, seen, and a bit more hopeful for the future - If Will (and other characters) get a happy ending.

And even though st has many themes- like say homophobia. To try and hand-wave all the disturbing  r*pe imagery away  as ‘Will is just gay so the monsters are like that”. IS SOOOOOO offensive. Trigger warning for examples. I’m sorry what part of Max saying when Billy had c*nsensual s*x it’s “good screams” but when possessed by the mf he causes Heather to do “bad screams” read as gay???! Having the possessed ch*ke/dr*g people before throwing them in trunks (like it’s implied Lonnie did to Will -since Jonathan checked Lonnie’s trunk for Will in s1)?Tying their arms and legs up/ g*ging  them and  getting on top of them and saying “stay VERY still it’ll all be over soon”-before a monster shoves it’s tentacle into someone’s mouth and inserts a goo - just gay??? Similar to the sentient vine/shadow monster forcing itself down Will’s throat. Let alone Will saying things like “he made me do it”, “i felt it everywhere”, or being tied to a bed and screaming “help! stop! it hurts! let me go!” While Jonathan is the only one who’s visibly triggered by this and has to literally turn away and hug someone . Or barb, billy, and El spiting up a white liquid from their mouth (similar to will spitting up a slug and lying to his mother about it ).El/billy touching a suspicious looking slime with their hand and looking at the substance confused . El drawing Papa with 3 legs (the middle one being shorter) ,  trying to undress in front of the boys , and Benny saying “I think she’s been ab*sed or something”.The theme of ab*sive dads- brenner , Lonnie, and Neil . Even when the demogorgan (called in d&d the “deep father”/ in the show “a man without a face”) attacked Barb it’s chopped up with scenes of Nancy having c*nsensual sex (the monsters are doing the opposite symbolically). There’s way more examples but NO- to try and hand wave /equate ALL OF THIS to just “gay imagery” or an “a*ds metaphor” is WAY more problematic. And just offensive (specifically to gay people) than just admitting what it may actually represent. R*pe imagery and gay imagery is NOT THE SAME THING!

Also ST has never been a kid show- maybe rewatch the show and see the rating of tv-14 . Goodness sake- s1 has a st*ged su*icde, k*dnappings, m*rder, discussions of physics, h*mophobia, and s*x (with stancy in s1 & jancy in s2-s3). S2/3 discuss at their finalies recovering from tra*ma . S2 had gra*ic de*ths,  a man causing a women br*in damage/ and faking her m*scarriage, and a gang of vigalantes k*lling criminals. s3 had critiques on capitalism /media/s*xism, many d*eaths, and questionable imagery like the prior seasons. The Duffers constantly reference  movies & events from the 80s (capitalizing on 80s nostalgia /subverting 80s motifs that middle age people  from that time remember)! Those people were their intended age demographic . Most 80s centric refs go over most kids’ heads (heck a lot went over my head too since I wasn’t alive in the 80s XD).The Duffers even said in the book “worlds turned upsidedown”  “it’s not a kid’s show despite having kids”. And maybe it’s a coincidence but when Lucas in s3 hands Will the “devil’s baby” firework (a hint about Lonnie) he says “18 and over only.” Which idk is a weird/random af line unless it’s foreshadowing that the show will get darker about various themes- and maybe even change ratings.

I get people wishing nothing bad ever happened to Will or Jonathan. And being apprehensive and not trusting the Duffers to do such a story justice (cause it’s difficult to do). But personally i trust them to do so tastefully with tact and not be exp*itative, (overly gr*fic) or offensive to v*ctims. You can disagree and think the show is about something else (or not trust the Duffers)- but it’d be great if people could stop using these other messed up talking points. While trying to appear ‘(fake) woke’ and like they care for victims- cause we see through it that you really don’t.

Have a lovely day anon ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Update- I just really agreed with and appreciate the tags in this reblog

[queenofthefullmoon]

An exhaustive list of Dark Souls: Remastered bosses I would or would not date

Asylum Demon

The Asylum Demon is one thick bitch but I am not interested in that fat ass.

Stray Demon

The Stray Demon is one thick bitch but I am not interested in that fat ass that reminds me strongly of another incredibly similar fat ass.

Taurus Demon

I am not a furry so I’m not interested in the Taurus Demon. Also he has a very big family and I’m not ready to go to such large family dinners yet.

Bell Gargoyles

I’m not interested in dating the gargoyles. In addition to the fact that they’re gargoyles, our love would be impossible because they’re obviously a lesbian power couple. However, the girls are SO welcome for a platonic sleepover and tea party.

Capra Demon

See Taurus Demon.

Chaos Witch Quelaag

Gaping Dragon

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Moonlight Butterfly

I can’t say I would like to date a butterfly, but it’s welcome to stay in my backyard and shoot spells at me when I go out the door. I think it would spice up my routine a little bit.

Sif the Great Grey Wolf

Again I’m not a furry, so I can’t consider dating a wolf, but Sif is the goodest boy and he’s super welcome to stay in my house. He’s even allowed on the couch.

Iron Golem

ngl he’s kinda jacked…

Crossbreed Priscilla

Yes? I’m stupid and bisexual? We are meant for each other?

Ornstein and Smough

I would say yes to Ornstein if he didn’t have a furry lion mask (rip), because he kinda rules and he would smash the shit out of all my enemies. Not to mention he’s a very reputable knight so we would get VIP entries to ALL the fucking clubs in Anor Lando. Smough, however, I don’t trust, given how he smashes Ornstein like a pancake when he’s down and is a known cannibale. I think he would try to munch on one of my toes while I’m asleep and flatten me with his hammer if I protest.

Dark Sun Gwyndolin

Honestly I would date Gwyndolin because they’re a graceful person. They’re kinda bratty but I feel like that would be nice for a little gossip session with your significant other (which we all know is one of the most fun part of a relationship). Also if you date them you get pet snakes for free.

Ceaseless Discharge

Just this name makes me want to throw the fuck up so no. Also he’s a flaming demon made of lava and I’m made of flesh that melts very easily. Also I killed his sister. And his mom.

Demon Firesage

The Demon Firesage is one thick bitch but I am not interested in that fat ass that reminds me strongly of another incredibly similar, less flaming fat ass.

Centipede Demon

I’m running out of way to say that I won’t date an animalistic demon.

Bed of Chaos

Conceptually if you told me I could date a bed I would be like « hell yeah » because a bed truly is the best thing in the world. Our dates could just consist of me sleeping on top of it. The Bed of Chaos, however, is nothing like the peaceful beds you and I imagine. I don’t want to be flattened by a giant tree woman and I REALLY don’t want to be flattened by a flaming (literally) witch, so it’s a no from me, chief.

Pinwheel

Pinwheel is such a fucking tragedy that I almost want to say yes just so he can have a win, but I’m not ready to commit to dating a family of three people packaged into one person.

Gravelord Nito

At first I want to say no because what the fuck is Nito? A bunch of skeletons? A mass of skeletons with skeleton babies? God, I can’t be a skeleton mom, that’s a lot of responsibilities. But then I think about how he’s kind of the Underworld God and I can’t pass on an opportunity to be Persephone. I just have to find my Demeter so I can get the fuck out of there for half of the year.

Seath the Scaleless

Dragons are already pretty unpredictable creatures but Seath is particularly unhinged. Usually I would make some room for a dragon in my backyard (don’t ask how big it is) but Seath is both a traitor and a mad scientist. I don’t want to have him anywhere near me. Imagine if he stole me away and made me into one of his fucked up experiment even though I am kind enough to house him? It would break my heart.

The Four Kings

I’m gonna say yes to this and before you’re like « oh Blue what the fuck » let me explain that this decision is purely strategic. First of all you’re dating not only one King but four, making you a quadruple King/Queen/Monarch, and you will never run out of things to talk about because there’s five of you! It kinda sucks that you have to hang out in the Abyss, the gloomiest place possible, but at least you have FOUR boyfriends.

Sanctuary Guardian

The Sanctuary Guardian is a tough boy who is welcome to stay at my house as a pet and scare any intruders. I would let him inside but I would not let him on the couch, for fear that he might rip it apart with his scorpion tail.

Knight Artorias

Yes? Of course I would date Artorias, corrupted by the Abyss or not. I know it would be harder to manage our relationship while he is corrupted and he would probably break shit all the time, but I’m willing to do it for him, just like he gave up everything for us… For all of us.

Manus, Father of the Abyss

I would not date Manus, but I would like to be his friend. I can tell he has some deep, troubling anger issues and I wish to help him with it. Perhaps a good listener, a friend, and a cup of tea could calm him down.

Black Dragon Kalameet

Okay so Kalameet is a dragon so obviously I don’t have romantic feelings towards him, but I do feel a bond. He is a beautiful large boy, and I want to keep him safe. Dragon slayer? More like dragon lover. No matter how many times he’ll try to burn me down I will always try to be his friend 4 life.

Gwyn, Lord of Cinder

Honestly I’m gonna say it, Gwyn is a DILF, and even his hollowed, ashen self manages to hold onto that fantastic beard of his, which is frankly a quality I can appreciate. I mean, the man is a god, mega powerful and rich, still has all his hair, and, as far as we know, is available. I’m gonna be a sugar baby and I’m not even ashamed of it.

If you disagree with me fuck you. 

[paperskinned-writing]

First attempt at smut. I've read some here and there and used to be an amateur writer before. So enjoy it with a grain of salt if it's not quite good.

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Anyways, it's a bit of maid and master play with Kali and Ilia (RWBY) in some scenario where the Belladonnas have rebuilt their house and Ilia is a maid because she feels bad about the last one. Nothing extreme about this one but who knows. I might make a sequel if people like it enough.

Again, enjoy.

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The bottle crashed down from the highest shelf in the room. Silence, followed by soft sniffles eventually made their way across the room to Kali's ears.

The little maid stood in the puddle of what was a full bottle of bourbon. The white frills and apron of her uniform, stained with splatters, were clenched in dainty fists. Her previously white stockings were now the same golden hue as the aftermath on the hardwood floor.

Kali rose from her plush leather chair she had been reading in while observing her personal maid. And immediately strode across the room to Ilia and put her arms around her. While not much taller than the girl, she did embrace tight enough that her motherly chest pushed itself up into a magenta face.

"I-I'm so sorry, ma'am," Ilia stammered, lowering her head further into cleavage, clearly ashamed of the mess she'd made and the concern her mistress had for her. The maid's magenta was giving way to deeper shades of blush, probably due to her particular Faunus trait. Kali sighed.

She wasn't angry or anything. However, it was a repetitive routine. Ilia, though currently buried in her chest, had insisted on being a maid after the previous estate went up in flames. The Belladonnas kindly told her it wasn't necessary but the former White Fang thug was trying to make amends. Kali was of course sympathetic to someone trying, and convinced her reluctant but soft beast of a husband to allow it.

A bit of buyer's remorse she supposed was settling in. While she had fun dressing Ilia in various maid outfits and watching the girl enthusiastically do her bidding, Mrs. Belladonna was starting to regret it. So many items were broken in the first week, she had to cover for Ilia to keep her husband from throwing her out. Two weeks later, the frequency had let up. However, each later item seemed to be more expensive than the last. And this was even after she had the regular staff essentially baby proof the mansion.

She stroked the maid's long ponytail, tracing it all the way out to it's curly end, repeating slowly. It seemed to calm Ilia down, or at least her colors were back into the normal complexion range.

"I'm sorry." The little one straightened up. "I'll clean this up right away."

Kali held her embrace firm for one last stroke of silky hair and let the maid exit. Though even that was a small struggle when Ilia had ended up catching her outfit in the door when she closed it behind her. Kali sighed again. Again, not angry. Just wondering what her help was actually helping.

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Ilia returned with cleaning equipment in hand. Struggling through the door to the room, she began gathering glass and tossing it away. Kali resumed her half-hearted attempt to read to the ambient noise of the room. After some time, sloshing noises caught her attention and she glanced back up.

The tiny maid had hiked her almost knee-length skirt up and under her stained apron. Then she proceeded to get down on the floor to hand scrub the mess away, using a rag and a plastic bucket to do so.

Her attire wasn't skimpy. Frilly and loose standard really. The only real form fitting aspect to it was her sash around her waist that cinched the outfit about her waist. But this was the first time the lady of the house had taken a notice of the girl's figure since she had forced Ilia to wear it.

While the girl was currently faced the other way towards the door, her rear was pointed at Kali. The unstained tops of white stockings grabbed into shapely tan thighs. Straps from a garter belt led away from there up to the skirt that just barely hid the bottom of Ilia's cheeks. Annoyingly, the frilly hem obscured a peek of what might be underneath. Kali had only given her stockings to wear and never told her lingerie was a part of the outfit. Now there was a curiosity to unravel, unlike the mystery in her novel she was hardly reading anyway.

The tiny maid was oblivious to the stares from across the room. She continued scrubbing, her ass swaying slightly as she went. It truly grabbed the feline's attention, the curiosity gnawing at her.

What would a young lady wear under her uniform? Why bother? Maybe it was just personal taste? Maybe she liked the outfit too much? Her mind puzzled over the intentions behind the lingerie.

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Eventually Ilia finished her cleaning and Kali still burned with a longing for answers. The maid stood up and started to adjust her skirt back to its normal. The bourbon stains on her apron and hems had dried for the most part. She tugged the edges down and shimmied until the folds of fabric hit their full length.

The mistress had been absentmindedly tapping her bottom lip with the tip of her finger. Her gaze hadn't changed in spite of Ilia now being fully dressed. Her fixation on the servant's thighs and hips eventually travelled up to the obscured bust before suddenly locking her amber eyes on a pair of grey ones. Staring bashfully right back into hers. Kali blushed at her blatant ogling.

"Are you done, Ilia?" she asked, trying to shake herself from her curiosity streak.

"Yes, ma'am." The reply was rather meek. The grey eyes were still widened a bit. "Is there something you wanted to ask me, Ms. Belladonna?"

Kali bit her lip. She'd been tapping absentmindedly on her chin before in her pondering.

The woman had always been a sucker for a submissive toy. She herself was a switch and Ghira, bless him, was her man. He was in charge in the bedroom: as rough as he wanted, as long as he needed. She loved it just as much as he, but she did occasionally feel that familiar ache. The need to dominate something like he did to her. That carnal need to gain pleasure at the expense of another. Ghira knew this and he cautiously welcomed her to exorcise it, lest it get out of control.

As long as it's not another man, he told her, he'd look the other way.

And here before her was a good little girl. Bright eyed. Tan. Beautiful. Eager to please. So, maybe a bit of a tease? Enough to satisfy her curiosity and maybe vent a bit of her pent up frustration with the source of it all? Maybe add in a touch of blackmail for fun? Kali cleared her throat and sat back in her plush chair. The leather softly creaking around her head as it cradled her feline ears atop.

"I'm curious to know what a maid wears under her attire."

After some silence, Ilia shifted in her shoes but never broke the gaze between them. Her fingers flexed tentatively.

"Did I do something wrong, ma'am?"

Kali's ears twitched slightly at the innocence in Ilia's whisper. It was genuine, yet, it felt like there was a yearning intertwined.

"No! Not at all. I just couldn't help but notice something when you were down on all fours. I saw something that piqued my interest."

The mistress licked her lips, her gaze grew hungry. It still locked with the other's.

"Care to show me what a maid wears under her uniform?"

Finally, the grey eyes broke contact. They glanced downwards at their owner's feet. Then the hands trembled to the edges of the frilly skirt and pulled it up.

Slowly up the stained stockings, slower up the white straps of the garter belt over the tan flesh. And a slight pause before the grey eyes turned upwards to resume their gaze.

Truthfully, the blue striped panties were cute but not what made Kali feel a deep tingling in her loins. It was actually the fact that Ilia submitted so easily. So exactly. It exhilarated her domme side, the beastial side of her that rarely got out.

Sure, she had a few flings with Sienna, but it was mostly a contest between the two, both being switches meant one never really submitted to the other to a satisfying degree. But that was that. A literal master and servant relationship? Only in other people's fantasies did this happen. And here, in front of her, Kali had a fantasy coming true.

"Come closer," she required. She was too invested in the heat of the moment to let Ilia get away now. She had boundaries to push. Limits to test.

Ilia quietly obeyed, keeping her skirt lifted as the maid slowly walked towards her mistress. Her mary janes clicking on the hardwood as she proceeded.

Kali slowly uncrossed her legs to sit up higher in her chair to allow her servant to come closer. Ilia stepped up toe to toe with her, not in a defiant manner. She was still wide eyed and blushing but every bit as invested as the lady of the house. The little lesbian waited.

"Even closer," came the next sultry command.

Kali's lightly tanned thighs rubbed against Ilia's knees as the latter brushed past to place her toes directly under her mistress's chair. She could go no further.

Lifting her well-manicured hands from the armrests, Kali's fingers traced down her own waist and trailed across her thighs until they resided on the maid's knees. The girl shuddered at the touch. It wasn't out of fear. It was her eagerness. A subtle invitation for more.

"You have to tell me. With your words."

The grey eyes winced slightly, glanced down then returned again like before.

"You can touch me, Ms. Belladonna," came a whisper.

Kali tisked. "Try again."

"I...want. I want you to touch me."

"Please?"

"Please."

"Mistress?"

"Yes. Please, Mistress."

"Say it properly then," purred Kali.

"Mistress, please. I... I want you t-to touch me," the small lesbian requested. "I need it."

At an achingly slow pace, the resting palms tugged and transcended their way up the shapely thighs. Fingers slid to the backside, the palms massaged the outsides, and the thumbs rubbed across the front. Like walking up a long flight of stairs, the mistress worked her hands further and further upwards. Back to side, side to front and up a smidge further to repeat.

Reaching the tops of the stockings, Kali laced her fingers under the fabric and traced around the hem. The direct skin to skin contact sent waves of small shivers up Ilia. A soft moaning cry escaped the maids lips. Kali's eyes never left her face, but Ilia was shutting hers, opening them again, staring back, glancing down. Her tired arms quaked as they clung to the skirt in a death grip. It was probably out of the fear her mistress would stop if she disobeyed in showing her attire that the girl didn't dare let it fall.

The woman felt the heat emanating from between those light brown thighs. She was careful not to go between them, allowing the tension to build in her little toy. She resumed her back to front pattern from before, taking care to trace underneath the front and rear straps as she traversed up past the halfway mark.

A slight tiptoe motion came from the maid when a finger traced the bottom-most edge of her ass. It earned a wicked grin from her master. Leaning a bit more forward, Kali cupped her ass, sliding her hands under the striped fabric clinging to the flesh. She kneaded and grabbed with increased force as she sank her grip into tender meat. Kali pulled the cheeks apart and pushed them back together as she massaged them roughly with her paws. Occasionally dragging her nails across their entirety earned hip thrusts.

Squeals of pleasure and heavy panting filled the room. The tension from the invasive hands pulled Ilia's panties taught across her clit and they dug deep into her soaked crotch. The kneading gave a sawing motion to it all and the poor servant girl couldn't hold any longer.

With a sorrowful whimper the skirt slipped from her hands and covered up the whole exhibit. And, as if it were a cue, Kali immediately stopped everything and sat back in her chair. A stern look about her as her hands laced together under her chin.

"Mistress! I-" Ilia struggled, "I'm sorry! But I-I'mmm… I was soooooo close!"

"I know I didn't say to hold this-" Kali said as she put a knee into the girls groin, "the whole time. But how am I to do anything if I don't get to at least see it with my own eyes?" Her amber orbs unsympathetically returning the gaze from the pleading grey eyes upon her.

"H-how can I make it right with you? Mistress? Please tell me!"

Kali tapped her toe for a short while, pretending or maybe not to make up her mind on what to do. For that while, Ilia did her best to stand at the ready but the quakey stance gave away that under her skirt she was rubbing her thighs together to keep herself stimulated. Kali couldn't see it but there was certainly another puddle on her hardwood floors at this point.

"Lift your skirt again."

Obediently the order was followed. And upon doing so, two well-manicured hands produced cat-like claws. They turned over, palm up, and slipped under the front of the garter belt. Then they looped under the soaked fabric of Ilia's panties.

In a swift motion that slightly startled the maid, Kali cut the underwear away. The stripes clung for a moment due to the soaking they concealed, but with a gentle push on the inside of either thigh, the sticky sheet fell away, leaving a servant bare to her master's eyes. The garter belt's straps framed the prize. Goosebumps crossed the tanned skin, both from excitement and the sudden chill.

The mistress retracted her claws and traced the faint pressure marks where the elastic had been. Then she ran a single finger across from hip bone to hip bone. It resulted in extremely tight clenching between the thighs as Ilia grew somehow more excited with anticipation. Still, the tan girl held her posture otherwise.

She was perfectly smooth save for a small patch above. When petting the soft fuzz with her thumb, the maid doubled over while almost headbutting her mistress in the process. Her tongue briefly licked Kali's neck as she rested her head on one shoulder. Still holding the skirt high around her sides, Ilia was pushed back into standing as close as she could. Turning her other hand palm up again, Kali sank her middle finger into the love tunnel.

A shrill but satisfying moan deafened the feline. Ilia had to be a near virgin for how tight she gripped that one digit. It was only the first phalanx and her mistress could barely keep pushing. She used her thumb on the clit to stimulate her even more before her palm filled with sticky nectar.

The maid collapsed to the ground. Her legs gave out from the sheer weight of her climax. She saw stars in a pair of amber eyes. Those eyes seemed to move away for a moment before Ilia felt like she was falling forward.

Kali wrapped a leg around the back of her servant's neck, careful to grab the silky ponytail out of the way as she reclined again. Resting her black hair against the leather, she was ready. Using her calf to draw the starry eyed lesbian into her now dripping love patch. As the feline pulled her own lacey panties aside, Ilia seemed to come to terms with the situation.

A slimy tongue rolled lazily out and began to service. Kali wasn't as hairless as her younger counterpart but she was trimmed. She wrenched the ponytail in her hand around as a rudder. Her juices smeared all across the girl's face. The maid was enthralled by it more and more, even as she was coming down from her own climax. Ilia reached under the grappling thigh to get a hold of some womanly hip with one hand. The other found itself furiously working her up to another star-studded high.

A deep purr in Kali's chest resonated out loud. As Ilia was gaining more conscious, she only got more enthusiastic. Her sticky tongue kissed every crease and fold, her lips sucked up any juice that the mistress had to offer. Pure. Fucking. Bliss.

Ilia had what seemed like a normal tongue (other than the tacky, gooey quality it possessed) until she buried her nose deep into Kali's muff and her tongue reached deeper than anyone had ever done.

The mistress nearly rolled her eyes back as a result while she groaned out loud. It wasn't that hard, throbbing meat slab her husband would slam in her but it reached almost as far. The slimy member nearly kissed her womb. But that wasn't enough. She had to have more.

Raising her ass slightly, she bucked her hips against her maid's open mouth. Kali began to facefuck her servant but it wasn't unwelcomed. The tiny brunette took it as a command to work harder and did. She slurped harder, wriggling her tongue as much as it would allow. Occasionally she pulled it out completely and snaked it down between the feline's glorious cheeks, sending tangible shivers up her mistress's back when she reinserted into the love tunnel.

Climax for Kali nearly tore off Ilia's ponytail. She held her maid's head with her thighs and the sheer lifting power in her forearms as her body went rigid. As she did, the brunette worked herself up to the finale, using the asphyxiation induced by her mistress to send herself over again.

.

Eventually, Kali let Ilia have her hair back. Her death grip lessened and the suffocated servant slowly parted from her nether region with a small kiss before sitting back on her ankles. The maid kissed the inside of one thigh as she parted. Then shakily, climbed to her feet using the armrests for support.

The little lesbian didn't bother wiping her sloppy face. Instead, she wore a fairly confident smile with a liberal amount of blush in her cheeks. The smile was returned by her mistress, more out of a sense of satisfaction than one of confidence.

"I suppose you should change out of that outfit. There's more than one kind of stain on it now," purred a tired sounding comment. Kali shifted to a more upright position. "Don't worry about the floor for now. Just tell anyone who might need me that I've taken a nap in here."

"Yes, mistress."

Ilia walked across the room and exited. This time she was careful enough to not close the door on her skirt.

Kali let out a small sigh and leaned forward again. Holding her face in both hands and stamping her feet on the ground, Kali wore a stupid grin on her face now. Ilia had gone to clean herself up and now she was in here relishing in the afterglow. How much fun could she have with this new maid? They'd gone so far but she still hadn't seen it all. She hadn't truly explored what her body was like. Hadn't truly controlled her.

Grabbing the still sopping wet cloth on the ground, Kali settled again into her seat. She could smell the juices as she rolled the former panties in her hand. It'd be rude of her to not return these later. Right?

Perhaps it wasn't buyer's remorse, the woman supposed. She was merely making an investment before and now it was paying dividends. How exciting.

[tripstaysnoided]

Flow Just Like Water

Story and writing-related transparency update and my many shames...

The Question on Everyone’s Mind

“Hey you haven’t updated No Stars over Uptown in almost a year...”

Hmm, I hate it when you’re right. (This section has been rewritten ad-nauseam to curb back the bitchiness by the way)

So back in early/mid 2018, the idea was to divorce Uptown from a person who influenced it (and myself) heavily. She was my most important audience member, the closest friend I ever had, and unfortunately someone who used her power to bully, ostracize, and hurt others with my help. I cut contact when the hurt + some self-awareness finally reached me. Apologies were made and I feel like my work will never be done with it, but there was still Uptown.

Between censored comments, entirely recasting Axel’s save, different plot threads, and a load of disclaimers, there was nothing that would scrub her influence from the story. There was no way to cleanly drop everything because of how deep her influence went. It disgusted me to look back at it, and I had to private the blog because I feared what it endorsed, even if just in the past.

I pulled back from that sims writing community. I had its main thread on the Official Forums removed too (I guess if that was a mystery to anyone). It was a surrender that I never wanted to do, but I had it in my mind that if I was gone, then she wouldn’t be there either. Uptown became this cursed item, and as I quietly retired it, I noticed that she went quieter too. Not gone, but enough to make me sleep easier at night and even occasionally say hello to old friends.

And I hope deep in my heart that no one else is getting hurt in my place, but now this is gonna haunt me all day huh!

The two paths forward...

1) Complete Uptown rewrite that I’ve been threatening everyone with all year. While it won’t ever be clean because I can’t undo time, I do have a sound outline for a story that is much more true to my actual vision and how I’ve evolved, with a few necessary boundaries in place that are going to be there for all stories moving forward: no more casting calls and no more collaborative efforts. I am not going to open myself up to this happening again, even if the people have changed.

2) Same as above, but I continue the original Uptown as a favor to loyal readers alongside the rewrite. I would try to put the effort into it that I initially did, but with no promises on an update schedule and no advertising. I did ask myself “is there Patreon but without pledging money, just the private posts function” but it could operate as part of a private forum, a members-only part of a website, etc.

Also readers of the original would be beholden to a rule of “don’t spoil the rewrite for new readers, c’mon guys”. I mean, not really, but it is a good courtesy to extend to people.

Priority on this isn’t high but you at least will see what is!

I will probably make the blog public again either way due to the many broken links on my Tumblr but we’ll see. There are other things to deal with as I shall list!

Where Life’s Been Regardless

Been spending more time with my grandpa every weekend. Life’s pretty good and he’s warming up to my dogs.

Shiny New Webbed Site

Cucumber Fields Forever is a site I own now. We have a full domain, cucumberfieldsforever.com, a blog with one post, and the framework needed to host stories the way I want to and still through WordPress. The functionality of likes, comments, and following should still be the same but you know...I’ll take feedback too...

The main blog still has an undefined purpose though I do have drafts sitting around about:

The maybe/maybe not hoax band that was on the Metal Archives and the history of Funeral Doom Metal.

The curious case of when Sims 4 babies get their genetics and my only collaboration (read: was talking about it with a friend and might quote her if needed, it’s actually a bit of a doozy)

Amazon.com’s fake dried udon noodles, an actual issue by the way.

Things I’m reading! (This’d be a monthly feature if so)

For the sake of unity, I am thinking of solutions for hosting old and shameful content there including Uptown and for the real fans in my followers feed, Eight Cicadas...a world I totally have plans for too (not really). I don’t want them to be front-and-center, and that’s why I mentioned forums/members-only content. I finally have that power! Maybe.

Ooooh but what are the costs? Not too much to handle, that’s what. 😉 (Like really, I don’t need any hand-wringing about this, I can manage my finances)

Project Queue (In Order of Confirmedness)

Outrun the Scythe: have you seen me post out-of-context Sims 3 pictures? Did you want more? Did you hope it was Linda in Custody? If the answers are yes, yes, and “meh, whatever you want”, then you’re in luck.

Outrun the Scythe is a Sims 3-based tale of a young gay man and his zombie grandma, as they are both offered separate roles of being the undying intermediaries between the world of humans and the influence of a race of space daemons. It’s pretty familiar if you’ve been following me pre-Uptown, taking some cues from stories I’ve kept under lock and key like Eight Cicadas, The Chains of Lyra, and the not-so-locked-up Ironstar Immortals (of which Outrun is just the direct sequel to sans any retconning...ah the smell of early 2013 and performative heterosexuality)

Ah, back to my roots.

It’s a hybrid of gameplay, story, and lore about my little race of daemons with a lot of my own idiosyncrasies that I’m not really ashamed of: basing it off a super-polarizing Sims 3 challenge from a site I moderate, using a lot of EA’s pre-made townies and their genes, lots of unnecessary posemaking, stupid references. It’s a comfort to have in my roster.

While the first few chapters are in the middle of revision, I have around six in the queue and will be making this public when I have ten. I’m guessing December then?

Undocumented Black Widow Challenge: I just did this for fun/forum kudos (yes, in fact I have joined many forums), there was going to be a short story but it was quickly becoming something against my code of ethics. I mean, sims die and all. (read: I had to choose between “heterosexual widow” and “widow with some same-sex marriages that still end in tragedy, reinforcing negative stereotypes to the public for the sake of me not getting bored and detached during gameplay” so there were no good choices. Except for her affair with the mailwoman, 10/10) I hope to finish this before October ends and get my medal on Boolprop, I’m pretty far through it all. I might upload the sims involved anyways. This is for TS4.

I mentioned it because it’s keeping me busy. But not for long!

NaNoWriMo 2020: Dipping my toes into that again! It’s not sims-related, just a tale of lesbians, nosy neighbors, a haunted beach house, and some light murder and kidnapping. And I actually got my brother to scout out locations for me this weekend. If there’s any demand, I can share chapters as the rough drafts are finished, especially for the sake of proofreading.

Not saying I’m publishable, but wouldn’t it be nice? Will keep me occupied for much of November.

Untitled “Dear Diary” Challenge: Tired of feeling left out of the fun on the Boolprop forums, their “Dear Diary” challenge was the one that appealed to me the most on first glance. Why? Probably once I found an idea that let it be set in the early/mid-2000′s to begin with and explore some interesting characters through diary entries (which I have mixed feelings on as a literary device but I think that’s just me saying “well I didn’t like Dracula”, yes you get bonus points for writing it like a diary)

Also writing is the one skill I’m good at across multiple games. Wanna hear me bitch about the cooking skill tree in TS4 or riding in TS3? I’ll spare you.

I guess I could have included “spending time on Boolprop with old and new friends” in where my life has been. It’s a nice lil community if also a place with its own idiosyncrasies as well. So it doesn’t feel like I’m promoting another community if/when I make a thread there for Outrun the Scythe, I want to have a couple chapters of this ready to go by Outrun’s release, though it’s not gonna be the highest priority compared to it nor as long because I think I can blast through the gameplay quickly.

This one will be played in TS4 due to it having the easiest writing skill/I dunno variety is the spice of life. And hopefully another December release.

Defunded or Forgotten?: Oh shit I actually released stuff in 2020 and told no one? I do have a “mortifying ordeal of being known” sinking feeling whenever I get a site hit because it’s not my best work (but good enough) and veered sharply into issues I may be over my head in, though I try to be a good noodle with research and listening. Maybe hiding is bad after all.

Being based off a very flawed and incomplete Sims 3 challenge I found in the annals of the Official Forums, there’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work just making sense of things. And I’m scared of working on reconstructing the house but I haven’t abandoned the project yet. The story has eight chapters so far and is pretty game-based with some additions here and there. Scared of how long it could be though!

Date for this unknown.

Untitled Sunlit Tides Decadynasty: another year-long abandoned TS3 project with a much stupider reason why. Last update was about Hua getting ready for her wedding, and I wanted to do some poses for a bait-and-switch wedding chapter because to put it mildly, her real one was an absolute disaster.

Blender decided to fuck up its interface again, I got discouraged (this probably does account for some of the Uptown delays too), and when I decided to plow forward, it was for other projects instead.

Meanwhile I played all the way to Gen 5′s teenhood and the only thing stopping me is time (it takes almost 30 minutes to load the file right now, though they’ll be looking at moving towns in a couple gens) and maybe fear of the Logic skill.

Date for this also unknown but it’s easy to pump out updates once I’m in the groove for it. My third heir had a difficult life so maybe I’m just trying to bury it.

Also I just noticed the view count there was really good and probably because I linked it here on Tumblr last year. Thank you so much guys. I can’t really fret over views on Carl’s forum these days thanks to the years-long death spiral pretty much every forum anywhere has been riding on. But it’s a nice surprise. And it’s an alright little challenge recap to read during your lunch break or whatever.

The Wawas

I figured I’d end on the real news everyone wants! Both the chihuahuas are a year and a half now and reached their adult size around a year ago. For the most part, they are happy and healthy dogs.

[whereistheonepiece]

♥ If it strikes your interest: Sanji is very affectionate when he's drunk

Send me writing prompts. Status: Accepting.

Note: This is inspired by @lesbian-space-ranger Also I don’t know if you saw, but this is the last prompt I did. I think you’ll like it if you haven’t seen it.

I worked very hard to get into the proper headspace to write this.

-

Zoro and Sanji were not what one would consider an affectionate couple–at least not in the beginning and not when other people were around to see. This in part was because Zoro didn’t understand the incessant need some couples had to involve the public in something that was supposed to be private. This wasn’t to say that he was against hand holding or light kisses in public settings, but Zoro wasn’t in the habit of making anyone else privy to the fact that Sanji’s deft fingers in his hair reduced him from snarling tiger on the battlefield to a purring lap cat–in the beginning, that is. Nowadays, he didn’t care who saw when he settled in for a nap on Sanji’s lap, lulled to sleep by the soothing sensation of Sanji playing with his hair and lightly scratching his scalp.

And then there was Sanji, the other half of the equation. “It’s not that I’m ashamed,” Sanji had told him once when Zoro had approached him to ask him if he was having second thoughts about their relationship. “I just like that this is just between us right now. I like having this little secret with you.”

And Zoro had respected that, had understood that line of reasoning. He waited and tried to remain discreet until Sanji was ready to go public–and then he did what he could to assuage Sanji’s wounded pride in the privacy of the kitchen while the cook ranted about how none of the crew had been surprised, because hadn’t Sanji and Zoro been careful? 

Zoro remembered trying at first to stifle his amusement, but Sanji, in his anger, reminded Zoro of an angry kitten Zoro had come across once. The thing could fit in the palm of his hand, and it had been startled by Zoro, and it had done its best to appear big and intimidating, arched back, tiny lips pulled back in a snarl. It had only made Sanji angrier when Zoro had started laughing, and Zoro had to fend off Sanji’s furious kicks, grinning all the while as his kitten bared his fangs at him.

Zoro looked at Sanji from across the table he and the rest of the crew occupied in the tavern, smiling to himself over the rim of his tankard as he remembered how things had been so long ago. These days they were more open with their affection for each other, but usually that stayed on the comfort of the ship or at the end of the battle, when their blood still raced and unspent energy found its outlet through heavy, aggressive kissing and gripping, pulling hands.

Zoro kept his gaze on Sanji, watched the love cook flirting with Nami, Robin, and the two friends they’d made since entering the tavern. Zoro watched the way Nami and Robin exchanged knowing glances with each other as Sanji tried to ingratiate himself with the two women seated across from them, the two female members of the Straw Hat pirates already three steps ahead of Sanji, as always. 

Robin, cheek cradled in her hand, her eyes sparkling with amusement, cast a glance Zoro’s way, silently checking in with him without needing to say a word. Zoro nodded at her and tipped his tankard in her direction before finishing off his drink. He then pushed himself up out of his seat, telling the table he’d take the next round, feeling generous, earning raucous cheers from his inebriated crewmates.

Sanji noticed Zoro as he passed by, grinning at him and throwing an arm around his neck. “Zorooo,” he drawled, slightly stumbling as he followed him to the bar, leaving all four ladies behind. Zoro raised an eyebrow, putting a steadying hand on the small of Sanji’s back just in case it was needed.

“Hi, Cook,” Zoro said, raising his free hand to get the bartender’s attention. “You having fun?” He glanced over his shoulder and saw the women chattering away, the both of them already forgotten.

“Yes,” Sanji said, with the special kind of happiness that only came to small children and the drunk. “But the important question is: are you having fun, Marimo?”

Zoro smirked and looked at Sanji, who still had his arm around his neck, as he put in his order for the next round. “Yes, Cook,” he said. “There’s alcohol and all our friends are here. Course I’m having fun.”

“Good,” Sanji said, nodding with as much solemnity as he could muster in his current state. “It’s good to have fun.”

Zoro chuckled once, shaking his head. Sanji had hardly anything to drink and already he was tipsy. “Should I order you another drink or are you stopping here for the night?”

“No.”

“No, what?” Zoro asked. The bartender looked their way and sent Zoro a brief nod as he worked on drinks for a different set of customers.

“No, I’m not stopping.”

“All right.”

“‘Cause I’m gonna keep up with you tonight.”

Zoro looked at Sanji skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “Cook, you’ve probably had less to drink than me and you’re already ahead of me.” Zoro at most had a nice buzz going on and Sanji already looked sleepy.

“Don’t care,” Sanji said, resting his head against Zoro’s with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll stop and wait for you to catch up.” He hummed contentedly, his fingers snaking up the side of Zoro’s head and petting Zoro’s hair like he would a small animal. “Yer hair’s soft...”

Zoro blinked. The cook was going to have a killer hangover in the morning if he truly intended on drinking like Zoro, and he was always a complete bitch in the morning after as he nursed his headache, but Sanji was an adult and could make his own decisions–no matter how poorly thought out they were. “Don’t come crying to me when your head hurts tomorrow,” he said before placing his order. “You’ll get no sympathy.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die, Marimo.”

-

Sanji’s plans to drink as much as Zoro had failed. Nami was the only one on the ship who could keep up with Zoro–and maybe even outpace him–and she’d left with the rest of the others a while ago. Sanji’s efforts had been brave–and stupid–but they’d been in vain. The cook slumped over the table with a sigh, pushing his tankard away in defeat while Zoro watched him over the rim of his, small smirk on his lips.

“Okay,” Sanji said, pushing his seat out, probably ready to leave. “I’ve had enough.”

“See you on the ship,” Zoro mumbled, too busy staring into the amber depths of his drink to notice Sanji walking over to him until the cook had plopped himself in Zoro’s lap, straddling his thighs. He looked up at Sanji. “Hello–” he said before he was cut short by Sanji wrapping all four of his limbs around Zoro’s torso and burying his face in Zoro’s neck.

Zoro blinked, glancing around to see if anyone had taken notice. Most everyone had left at this point and those that had remained were too drunk to notice or care. He was the only witness to Sanji’s shameless clinging. He wished he could take a picture of this moment. Zoro let him be, taking his time with his drink, the alcohol and Sanji’s soft snoring his only company.

When he was ready for what would be his last drink, Zoro stood up and was shocked to find that Sanji’s grip hadn’t lessened, even in sleep, even as Zoro moved. Zoro stared at Sanji, his shock dulled by the alcohol. A crossbreed of a snort and a snicker emanated from his nose and made his nasal passages sore as he took in the absurdity of the situation.

Zoro sighed. “Cook,” he said, trying to push down on Sanji’s thighs. They wouldn’t budge. He tried again, this time with more force, and was met with the same resistance. “Cook. Let go.”

Sanji mumbled something in his sleep.

Zoro shook his head. To think that all of the previous moments he’d experienced in his life had built up to form this one. The absurdity of it all...

Zoro continued to try to pry Sanji off him until it finally sunk in that the only way he’d be free of Sanji’s python grip was to enact serious injury on the cook, so he relented with a long, tired sigh. “This is my life,” Zoro muttered to himself, still in disbelief as he turned around slowly and Sanji continued to cling to him. Zoro tiredly ruffled Sanji’s blond hair as he approached to pay his tab, the final drink a no-go. “Guess we’re going home, Cook.”

The bartender did little more than raise his eyebrow, having probably seen weirder. Zoro flashed the man a sardonic grin. “Gotta take my child home,” Zoro said wryly as he paid for the night.

He heard the bartender bark out a laugh as he turned and left.

He found Brook waiting for him outside, staring up at the full moon. The skeleton turned his skull, saying “Ah, Zoro-san, the others–” Brook stopped in his tracks when he saw Zoro staring at him blandly, Sanji clinging to his torso like a young koala did to its mother.

“Shhhh,” Zoro whispered loudly, finger held to his lips. “The baby is sleeping.”

Brook hesitated, tilting his skull to the side. “I was trying to say that the others thought it prudent that I escort you back to the ship.”

Zoro was already trudging past Brook. “Of course they did,” he said dully. “Assholes.”

Brook took two large steps to catch up. “Ah, Zoro-san?” he asked, concern in his voice as he grabbed Zoro by the shoulder and steered him in the right direction. “May I ask why–”

“Why I have a twenty-one year old man hanging off me?” Zoro asked, looking up into Brook’s skeletal face. “Dumbass wanted to drink with me.”

Brook laughed quietly. “I see. And have you tried–”

“Yes, Brook,” Zoro interrupted, “I tried getting him off of me. Asshole’s got legs of steel.”

“Hm. I must say, it’s interesting to see the two of you like this,” Brook observed.

“Like what?” Zoro asked, keeping his attention on the cobblestones in front of him.

“So open with each other out in public,” Brook explained. “You’re usually more reserved than other young couples your age.”

Zoro shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Indeed,” Brook agreed. He paused for a moment before continuing. “And it’s interesting to see Sanji-san so...”

“Clingy?”

“Vulnerable,” Brook clarified.

That brought a tired smile to Zoro’s lips. He looked at Sanji, who was still snoring away on his shoulder, and he dropped his hand onto the top of Sanji’s head, ruffling his hair softly. “He’s gonna hate you for seeing him like this,” Zoro murmured, looking ahead and seeing Sunny in the distance.

“It is a rather undignified position,” Brook agreed, laughing softly.

Zoro groaned as they drew closer to the ship.

“Zoro-san? What’s wrong?”

Zoro stared up at Sunny. He then looked up at Brook. “I’m just realizing what a pain in the ass it’s going to be getting him up there.”

Brook laughed melodically while Zoro struggled to wake Sanji.

“Cook.”

Silence.

“Cook, wake up. We’re here.”

“Mmmm...”

“COOK!”

“Nooooo...” Sanji whined, nuzzling the front of Zoro’s shirt.

“AT LEAST MOVE ONTO MY BACK, YOU CLINGY BASTARD!”

“Nooo, I’m comfy...”

“ASSHOLE!”

Brook laughed. “Good night, Zoro-san,” he said as he made his way onto the ship.

“WHAT? BROOK? BROOK, GET BACK HERE! BROOK, COME BACK AND HELP ME!”

But Brook was already gone, leaving a drunk, angry, tired Zoro behind with a drunk, whiny, clingy Sanji who refused to let go. Zoro yelled up at the sky in frustration, the lion head on the front of the ship and the moon silent, indifferent witnesses to his troubles.

-

Note: Okay, I’m take nap. You guys can send more prompts if you so desire. I’ll even do stuff for other ships (if you know that I like them).

[amorrdemiel]

How can I be so of myself one day and so far away the next?

At least when I saw that gif, I didn’t feel the panic I used to feel when I would see it. Perhaps I truly did traumatize myself by forcing myself into that sweet little baby girl box for so long. For so long I made myself so very small, for every him in my life. And I used to feel panic and like crying when I would see gifs that I used to reblog a couple years ago, hoping to seem like, to be. But today I saw one and I thought, this is just a woman. A woman who has a body and is wearing the things she likes. This is not a sweet innocent angel, this is not necessarily every mans fantasy, and not necessarily what ever woman wants to be. That heterosexuality that depends on woman appearing ignorant, weak, and angelic. I played that part so long, that’s why I felt confused and strangely free when I finally did begin dating girls instead of just longing them from afar. And why I felt even freer alone. Sometimes I feel PTSD when I remember how many times I forced myself to have sex with men or kiss them, or twisted my arm to be someone else around them. To make them want me. I had so much sex I didn’t want. I can count on one hand the sex I did have with males that I truly desired out of love for them or out of just needing a feeling satisfied. But even this past relationship, it all felt so obligatory.

Oh. I think I know why I’m feeling like this. My old buddies Hunter and Jonathan began texting me again and I had initially ghosted them because I just felt I didn’t want those type of friends anymore. All I do with them is go out, drink way too much, go to clubs far too often, and worst I contort myself to be the ultimate dream for them. I am the cool sexy girl. When I had my longer hair, I spent hours on its perfection when I knew I was spending time with them. I wore revealing clothes that I didn’t crave, I spent money on a new outfit every time I hung with them, I was both the bro where we talked about the ladies we would like to fuck but also the girl they could touch and flirt and put their arm around and praise for good looks. I had so much social anxiety around them and I thought it was me just being silly old me, but it’s exactly what drove me to drink so much. And I gave up my whole autonomy of self, all so they could clap. Clap for my successful portrayal of the coolest girl they’ll ever know. “She’s a lesbian but she’ll fuck a guy if he’s cool and hot enough” it was a challenge, I was the lesbian they could fuck. I was a dream. WHY AM I ALWAYS FORCING MYSELF TO BE A MANS DREAM?? Even when I had this realizations of the differences between how I felt having sex with men and women. After knowing how I felt with forcing myself for so long, I’m still here chasing men’s validation, their approval of both my womanhood and my bro-hood. And I never once went to see them after I cut my hair because I was ashamed. And the only reason I could cut my hair was bc my parents literally grounded me after I got into a wild night of trouble with them from drinking too much. And I dated a really beautiful friend named Zak who I cared for deeply and I wouldn’t let them see him bc I knew they would judge him. He was small, thin, and unattractive but he was kind and my friend and he was teaching me something. It truly felt like one of my soulmates. And I didn’t have to be anything for Zak. Zak let me be exactly who I was. I told him I was confused about my gender and he accepted it. I told him I liked women more sexually than men, and he said he understood, I told him about my visions and spirituality and he listened and helped guide me to my country skies any way he could. And even after all that love and tenderness I held for him, I still felt obligated to have sex with him. But I realized it wasn’t bc externally someone was obligating me like perhaps the other relationships had been, but It was my own damn self obligating me. And it was painful to be authentically who I was with him and then one moment later turn it around and try to be the best sex he’s ever had. For what? Why? Not the connection. The whole reason I left my ex girlfriend was because even though the sex was enjoyable, there was no connection. That’s when I knew I had to go, it wasn’t love. And here I was forcing myself to do more and be more and the sex wasn’t even enjoyable LOL. I couldn’t shave my head until I broke up with him. I broke up with him because I felt strong enough to live without males validation. Validation in general is so hard for me. I crave it and it’s a huge addiction. But I left and we’re still friends and I wonder how I forced myself at all to have sex. But that’s okay, I know I was experimenting and I know he was kind and that was the most present I’ve ever been with a relationship with a male so I don’t take it back. It was worth every smile and laughter and also ever moment of discomfort and pause. It brought me closer to myself.

So I guess when Hunter and Jonathan reached out I was going to ghost them but I felt BAD. I felt rude. And I did it and even though they are kind people and I enjoy their jokes and company and love the light of who they are now I am drowning in the sea of expectations that I burden myself to navigate, of men’s desires.

And I’m trying very hard to be present and speak to them truly from only my self. But it’s been hard when I’m alone. Maybe this was a blessing. I had to rant about this to understand that this is just showing me that deep subconscious push to force myself into someone who I’m not for men, for validation. This is conditioning. This is past pain, and it can be softened. And I can be tender to it and to myself. I can slowly dissolve it, because it’s not my enemy. It’s just something that happened. And I can forgive myself for all the ways I forced myself to be uncomfortable for someone else’s comfort.

[im-just-trying-to-survive-man]

ok so i feel like telling the world my bias list (kpop) for no reason and i was a little scared to but oh well lol

im gonna do this in parts. this list is my bias’ in boygroups pt.1

soo yeah if you wanna see some beautiful asian men you can keep reading lol

kinda turned out long oop

imma do nct on another post bc thats fucking loonngggg

1. kim hongjoong; stage name: hongjoong (leader of ateez, rapper, lyricist, producer and composer (i forget if those are the same thing) )

king of the lesbians

personally i think hes SOME type of gay but, y’know, you do you baby (’good lil boy’ is the song he wrote on their new album akjsdl)

prince of mullets in kpop (king is minghao from seventeen)

so?? pretty???

he paints his nails for the polished man campaign!!! (this was before the group became ambassadors.) v socially aware as well

his voice is very high for a rapper but i rly love it

wanna hear what he thinks of atinys?? (the fandom) listen to ‘aurora’

korean big minion 

very very good at english, despite what he says

is so caring for his ‘children’ ugh such an amazing leader

also a little brat sometimes but we dont talk about it

a MAN

fuck gender roles

5′7 skirt guy you’ve probably heard of in the kpop tiktok community

the official campaign pic:

2. han jisung; stage name: han (main rapper of stray kids, lead vocalist, producer and composer, lyricist, ult bias uwu)

heres the tea

this man literally saved my life

he has been through so much and i relate to that. seeing that he made it through the worst gave me hope.

his music and lyrics just speak to me (wanna see me cry? send me the song ‘19′, its written by him)

on to the happier things

his s q u i r r e l   c h e e k s

hes honestly so pleasing to look at ugh

vocals????? fricking great???? listen to ‘hellevator’ and ‘district 9′ for his vocals

jEoGiYa NoOnA HoKsI nAmJaChInGu IsSeOyO (’wow’ 3RACHA)

part of 3RACHA, a rap group between him and two other members

his american name is peter and he loves nat geo wild and cheesecakes and honestly if thats not amazing idk what is

lived in malaysia??? for 6 years???? lovin the melanin y’all

THE FUNNIIEST MAN ALIVE Y’ALL WAIT PLEASE WATCH THIS VIDEO IDK WHY BUT ITS SO FUNNY TO ME

3. im changkyun; stage name: I.M. (lead rapper of monsta x, sub-vocalist, maknae (the youngest), producer and composer)

fam im WHIPPED for this man like honestly i dont like subbing or sex in general lol ace things but i’d let him r a i l me

lived in america for 3 years and israel for 4; speaks fluent english and its SEXY

rapping skills??? on point???? both in english and korean ugh

LOOK AT HIM HIS DIMPLES AND HIS FACE AND UGH

is one of those people that does n o t like to be touched but then he’ll kiss your cheek out of nowhere

babie

VERY SOCIALLY AWARE LIKE HE SAID FUCK TOXIC MASCULINITY AND MISOGYNY 

confident in his own skin and super open about it

“For IM, ‘Wearing a harness is just to express our song concept. Showing the audience what we want to show is the most important thing. We’re not ashamed. We’ve done a lot of sexual items, like harnesses and chains. We’re comfortable.’ “ 

“But, for argument’s sake, where does your own sense of masculinity come from? IM pauses for a long moment. ‘Having a dick,’ he says bluntly, sipping coffee as his bandmates’ jaws drop and shocked laughter ripples around the table.”

that interview is here 

kinky lil bitch

i can go on and on about this man but im just gonna stop there

i lied he has tattoos (one on his wrist [ :): ] and the one on the nape of his neck, it reads “the one who wants to wear the crown must bear the crown”)

i like this picture bc its his hands and theyre pretty and fuck gender roles from a kpop idol

thats enough of him 

4. kim wonpil; stage name: wonpil (pianist, synthesizer, and keyboardist in day6, lyricist, vocalist, also a a dj and mc for a podcast)

Y’ALL LOOK AT HIM UGH

was the maknae but then dowoon came along and now hes not lol

Unbothered™

honestly like hes such a good pianist and is really great on the keys

is really good at making song lyrics out of thin air

like, he can hear the sentence “i really want chicken rn but i can’t have it im on a diet” and he’ll get “i crave your taste, but there is a wall i built myself blocking you from my love” like literally

im pretty sure he wrote the chorus for their song ‘zombie’

honestly bruh his vocals are so good

like pls go listen to ‘emergency’ and ‘congratulations’ (theres an english version for that song alsjdk)

guys hes just a big babie honestly

so pretty to look at omg

HES SO FUNNY AND HE DOESNT EVEN KNOW IT 

“i dont really care what my spouse looks like or what gender they are, as long as we’re happy and they love me” (wish i could find that photoset)

5. kim namjoon: stage name: RM (leader of bts, main rapper, sub-vocalist, lyricist, producer and composer)

literally the reason im into kpop, so thank you namjoon

a 5′11 babie, tbh

i remember finding out he had his own like, mixtape (’mono.’) and iT WAS SO GOOD AND IT STILL IS KAJHDJ

an amazing rapper and leader

can sing and i do not CARE what anyone says

so as you can see by now i kinda of have a type (except wonpil, idk wtf is going on there with me biasing him laksjk #no regrets)

anyway yeah he was the first kpop boy i found, and it was on his birthday

so every year on september 11th 11:50 p.m., i start i planting a tree in my backyard (bc then its on his birthday in america and korea lakajs so quirky i know) also bc its the day i started listening to kpop so its an anniversary for me lol. 

mOoNcHiLd

very very psychological

also very inspiring and loving (to the fans)

doesn’t really show affection, hes better with words than actions, and i really relate to that

dimples aGAIN

and last but not least for this list bc its already so frickin long

6. byun baekhyun; stage name: baekhyun (main dancer of exo, main singer, sub rapper, pianist, actor)

he’s so talented???? and amazing???? and overall just kinda perfect??????

AMAZING FUCKING VOCALS LIKE Y’ALL GO GO GO GO GOGOOG OG LISTEN TO HIS GROUPS SONG ‘ONE (MONSTER AND INFINITY)′ BECAUSE THAT SHIT SLAPS UGH

AND LIKE GROWL??? BRO????? MY VOCAL CORDS SNAPPED

dated another idol in the past but personally i think he’s a little *hand goes limp* if you know what i mean

my sister (4) calls him bacon he said it in an interview one time and it stuck to her

chesticles

MONSTER ERA UGH GOT ME DEAADDDD

is a solo artist too!!!!!!! go listen to his albums!!!! theyre really good!!!!

hes so frickin funny omg like i can laugh at with him all day

understands english but refuses to speak it

honestly kokobop baek was amazing idc what anyone says

is in like 3 different groups damn (like two of them are sub-units of his group and the other one is superm lol)

pls go watch the ‘men on a mission’ episodes with exo bc hes so fucking hilarious i will never get over it

a clown ass bitch that is always ready to square tf up a caring and v nice person that wont fight anyone ever

AN AMAZING ACTOR OMMGGGG BABIE GOT SKILLS

can also tapdance

lots of video games

very very very very very loud when playing video games

another man i endlessly love

well. if you made it this far, congrats!!! and thanks!!! i honestly dont care if no one sees this lol i just kinda wanted to do it, so, yeah lol. theres still more groups (superm, nct (seperate post), seventeen, vixx, pentagon, the rose, annnd oneus)then like idk if i’ll do a soloist one, so yeah. this kinda gives me something to do its one big infodump and im sorry lmao. yeah, love y’all !!!

[birth-fic-lover]

Second chance with my teen crush

I was 15 when I saw Rai McCoy for the first time, I was new to the tiny sleepy english village and she lived in the house next door. It was so tiny that all there were just a few little shops and a lot of farms surrounding the area, me and Rai were the only teen girls in the whole village. Maybe that’s why she hung out with me, she was 17 and in the city I had grown up in she wouldn’t of looked twice at me. But here we would always be hanging out after school and at the weekends, she was tall with short brown hair. She didn’t seem to mind that I was shy and sometimes nervous around her at first, but the more time I spent with her the more confident I got.

We both went to the same secondary school and would take the bus together to it, but at school we were part of different worlds. She was a sixth former and I was doing my GCSE’s, but sometimes I swear she would give me a secret smile if we passed each other. When we were together we would spend hours listening to her music or climbing to the top of a tree and carving our names into it or swimming in the wide river that ran by our village. 

One hot summer afternoon we were taking turns jumping into the deep river, hoping it would cool us off. We had not planned on doing this so neither of us were in swimsuits, when we finally left the water her top was now see through. She caught me looking at her sports bra, it was the first time I noticed she had boobs too. It sounds silly but she had always been such a tomboy, suddenly it clicked that she was this amazing person but also an attractive girl. We had spoken about many things together, but never boys I guess because neither of us are really into them. I knew right then that I liked her because she wasn’t like the other girls who wore make up, she was my first crush.

I though she would get upset seeing where I was looking but to my surprise she took my hand and led me into the forest, “I’m getting a right rash, stay lookout while I take it off.” But to my surprise she doesn’t turn around, she takes off her top right in front of me. But she doesn’t look embarrassed she smiles a smile that puts a warm feeling in my belly, she takes off her bra and drops it to the floor. Then stepping towards me she asks for my permission with her eyes before taking my hand at bring it to her breast, it’s so soft and warm. I feel so safe and then with my hand still on her breast we kiss, I take my hand away and bring both my hands onto her back holding her naked torso close. When we break away she slips her shirt back on, then grabs her sports bra off the floor. I take her held out hand and we start to walk back to her’s.

From that point on it didn’t feel like anything changed between us but more our relationship grew, back then we weren’t able to even utter the word lesbian or bi or girlfriend but we didn’t mind what we were we just knew we belonged to each other. 

Being 2 years older Rai had always been a bit more advanced sexually then I was, but she never pushed me to do anything I wasn’t ready for. So the most of we did when hanging in the woods was kissing and the occasional exploring each others bodies, Rai told me she wanted our first time not to be a secret in the woods. But eventually it was time for her to go to uni, we both knew I wouldn’t be able to visit and long distance would never work. So we said goodbye tearfully hoping to see each other again one day, I kept hiding my sexuality focusing only on men until one day I saw her again.

After a bad breakup I was forced to move back in with my parents, I saw her in the back garden so I knew that she was still living next door. Usually I would rush over and find out how she was doing but I had a souvenir from my last relationship, I was pregnant and almost full term at that. It wasn’t that I was ashamed that I was pregnant it was that I had slept with someone else, although I was bi and had been with men somehow I wanted Rai to know that I had never felt closer to anyone as much as to her. 

I wanted a chance to explain myself before she assumed anything I guess, but then my mum told me that she had already told next door that I was back. I knew that I had to see Rai, I didn’t want her thinking I was avoiding her. So I took a deep breath and picked up the house phone, it hadn’t been since I was a teen I had rang Rai. I was surprised when she told me that her parents had moved and she now owned the house, I wondered if she had a partner or family to fill the house. My curiosity got the better of me and I asked her out to dinner, looks like she would be seeing me that evening in all my pregnant glory.

I got to the pub early securing myself a booth, the table hid my bump quite nicely. It wasn’t long before I saw Rai approach smiling. I only had a quick glimpse of her before, now I could see that she look pretty much the same just more mature. I wondered if she had a wedding ring on, I looked and saw her hands were clear of rings.   

We sat and the conversation flowed so naturally, it felt like no time had passed at all. She was so gorgeous in her check shirt and skinny jeans, I wanted her back in my life so bad. We ordered food and the hours passed so quick, a few times I caught myself staring at her wondering if she had someone at home waiting on her. I knew I had to ask, “What's been going on since the last time I saw you?” I asked.

"You mean since I was 18 and went to uni?" She said with a laugh "I moved back in with my parents after 4 years and a huge student loan, I started a business fixing computers and re-selling them. Then my parents moved south and I decided to buy my childhood home from them, I have too many good memories here to leave this place behind just yet. You were a part of many of them" she adds and I blush.

“Really, that's pretty cool. You a part of my best memories from here” I say before asking "so is it just you in the house?".

“At first it was" she says, and I feel my heart sink. "But then I did up the other 2 rooms and now I rent them out on air b and b. I thought it might be nice to have a bit of company".

“What do you mean?” I asked assuming she must of had girlfriends in the past or be dating.

“Well" she seemed to be the one blushing now "After I got back I didn't really have any substantial relationships so I've been a bit lonely, I met a few girls at uni but nothing that led anywhere. But enough about me, what about you?"

So I tell her about my job in the city and how I'm now back here, that I am also single. Leaving out my impending motherhood, but when I finished talking Rai gave me one of her no nonsense looks. "My mother told you didn't she?" I said.

She laughed "of course she did, I love your mother to pieces but we both know she's a gossip." I can't help but laugh, Rai is probably one of the few people I would let call my mother a gossip. So I tell Rai about how I was in but had been with only men, and how my last relationship had become boring and dry. But unfortunately one of our last attempts had caused my current condition.

“What did he say when he did find out”, Rai asked chewing on some bread from her meal.

"At the point I found out he's already moved on and found someone else, so he tells me he will financially support the child but that's it."

"So because he found someone else he doesn't want to even meet his child? Well at least he is paying his way" Rai says "but this is why I'm glad I never mix with men".

"I'm done with them, the only relationship I've ever enjoyed I was with a woman" I say with a laugh.

"I thought you had only dated men since I went to uni?" She asked rasing an eyebrow.

"I did" I say shyly "but you know, we were a relationship kinda".

Rai gave me a shy smile before starting to slide from the booth, “I’m done with my meal, lets go for a walk so we can stretch our legs."

I had already finished my food and we had paid when we ordered so I had no issue. Leaving the booth I revealed my large round and low hanging belly, Rai looked at me for a while a faint smile on her face.

She held out her hand and we walked outside, “how about a walk down memory lane?" She asked.

"Sure" I say wondering where she means, the pub was in walking distance of both our homes so we didn't have our cars with us.

Rai and I swing our grasped hands as we walk, she asks me "so why didn't you wanna tell me about the baby. I mean you obviously wanted to see me, but you didn't want me to know about the kid?"

“Well, I wasn’t sure you would go running off into the hills, I guess I didn't want to bring up my romantic history before I was ready." After a few minutes I know exactly where we are heading, and I smiled but Rai seemed to be thinking.

"It doesn't both me that your bi or that you've been with guys, I don't expect anything from you. But at the same time if something happens then I'd welcome it, I know that for some a child counts as baggage but not for me. We are both adults who've lived lives since the last time we were together."

"I'd like something to happen" I say before I can stop myself.

To my surprise Rai stops walking and let's go of my hand before, wrapping me in a warm embrace. “I have waited so long to see you again” she whispers in my ear and I feel like I’m back where I belong. 

We only part when my child gives Rai a large kick, “oh gosh sorry” I say embarrassed and disappointed the moment is gone. 

“No worries” she said, “that was a strong kick, how much longer do you have till the baby is due?”

“Any day now” I confess “since I’m so close to home I didn’t think it would be a problem”.

“Well as long as you tell me if it’s go time”

“Oh you’ll be the first to know after the little one let’s me know” I joke taking her outstretched hand and we keep walking.

"Even if it didn't happen today, i mean like would you let me be here for the birth" she asks looking a little nervous as she asks.

I can't help but smile, "Rai McCoy holding me as I gave birth, now that would really be something. I think if your truely seroius about sticking by us, then I would like nothing more".

We stop walking again and she tells me “this child doesn’t have to be a symbol of a failed relationship, it can be the start of a new one. Between you and me, if that’s what you want. Don’t decide anything yet, but think about it okay?”

"I already know I want you to raise this child with me". She smiles and we keep walking.

But the thing is I don’t want to tell her but I just then feel I dull pain, a bit like when I am on my period. I know I just promised but I don’t want our time together to end yet, especially if she is taking me where I think she is. While we walk I use my other hand to rub my belly, trying not to let on how uncomfortable I’m suddenly feeling. 

“Everything alright? The baby given you hell?” she asked laughing.

“Yeah” I said trying to put a smile on my face, I hope if I don’t think about it I won’t feel it anymore. But the prefect distraction takes my attention, the concrete path was turning into the dusty dirt one that lead to the river and forest we used to go to when we were teens. 

The memories came flooding back for both of us it seemed as Rai had a huge grin on her face too, we walked down the steep path that lead to the wide river. “I can’t believe we used to run down this path, how did we not fall head over heals”.

“I guess we were too busy falling head over heals in other ways” I said clinging onto Rai to keep myself from falling. Rai looked concerned for a second, but before she could say anything I said “I’m fine, just my centre of gravity has changed. So, when was the last time you went to the river?” I asked trying to distract Rai.

“Right after I got back from uni for Christmas during my first year, but it never felt the same. You had gone to your grandmothers, this place isn’t special without you” she said softly. We stopped at the bottom of the path, “what about you?”

“All the time, I would come here to remember you and us I guess. You were more then a first crush, you were my first love” I said. It felt effortless to tell Rai these things. 

“You were my only love” she said, “I guess I never got over you”.

“I tried but I never got over you either” I said, Rai stepped closer and then took my hand and pressed it against my belly her hand over mine.

"I can't believe your back in my life with a chance to be a family due any day now".

“I just don't want that family life to start right this moment ” I half joke and we kissed, my heart beat fast in my chest. I felt 16 again kissing my best friend, I felt 15 again seeing her for the first time. But now I was able to keep her and be with her forever. 

Another mild cramp clenches in my belly, I just need to keep ignoring it for a while longer. Then I have an idea, "why don't we have a dip in the river? Just like when she were teens, the weather is perfect for it. We can just wear our underwear, we will dry in seconds afterwards." I know that the water will help with the pain, plus it eould be nice to relive the memories.

Rai looks at me for a second and shrugs "I mean I suppose it woukd be nice". We start removing our clothes, Rai helps me with mine and we wade into the water hand in hand.

When we get knee deep Rai takes a proper look at me, my arms naturally wrap around myself. I know I don't look as hot as I did as a teen, my belly covered in stretch marks and breasts now long and heavy with milk. But Rai seems to be looking at me like I'm a piece of art, "pregnancy suits you." She says softly, then continuing, "its a shame i didn't get to watch you grow and develop with child".

"There's always next time" I hear myself saying, but I wonder where it came from. A next time? I hardly have finished being pregnant this time.

“Next time, I like the sound of that” she said, then after a moment or two passed she looked at the water. I squeezed her hands and we get deeper into the river careful of the tide, we don't want to be swept away.

She held me protectively and it felt great to be in her strong arms again, my breasts against her forearms both covered in little droplets.

I was right about the water helping, but I knew that once we were out the water I would have to tell her it was time. But till then I enjoyed splashing and chatting more, but mainly we floated next to each other.

"My belly looks so huge" I said,

Rai laughed, "it's very pregnant, I think you look beautiful. I think your baby will be beautiful, I'm just so happy”.

“Me too" I say, then I don't know who kissed who but our lips connected, and we fell into a deep passionate embrace both trying to stsy afloat.

"Maybe we should get back on land" she saud stroking my face.

"NO" I insisted, Rai looked at me curiously.

Her hand slid smoothly over my belly, "everything okay?"

I nodded "please" I say, for a second I don't know if she knows that I'm begging for this moment to continue for a little longer before rushing to the hospital or if she just thinks I want to enjoy the river longer. She draws me close, holding me with one arm and exploring my body with the other. The memories just kept flooding back, her exploring my body wasn't just sexual it was her way of showing me how much she loved me.

As our legs intertwined as I pulled her hips against mine, "I got you" she whispered. We kissed again and again, until I let out a moan againt her lips. I knew just then that these were contractions, my labour was progressing. I had hoped that I could pretend it was a moan of pleasure but my face gave me away twisting in pain.

"I know it’s time, I felt your belly just harden" Rai said and I just nodded. Without a word Rai gathered me and got me to the river bank.

“I’m sorry” I said “I just wanted some time just you and me before...” but Rai shh’d me.

“It’s okay, I understand. But lets get you to my car so we can get you to the hospital”. She helps me get dressed before I watch he dress herself, so rough compared to how gently she helped me get dressed. I felt my belly tighten again and Rai came straight over, she kept a hand on my back as we climbed the steep path. 

I kept stopping rubbing my low belly, “this isn’t helping, infact I think walking against gravity is making my labour progress”. 

“Once we get on the flat I can carry you” she offered and we kept moving, I looked forward to sitting in the car once we were outta here. I tried to pant though the pain but it was getting more intense, “this baby is in a hurry too meet you” I said and Rai looked worried. 

As soon as we got to the top of the slope I clung onto a bench, I started to feel a lot of pressure. I swayed my hips and released a groan I didn’t realise I had been holding inside of me. “Naaahhhhhhhh hooo hoo naaaagggggaaaaa”. 

Rai went pale, “are you pushing?” she asked.

“No no” I reassured her, “I think I’m gonna be okay now that it’s a flat path”.    

“Still want me to carry you?” she offered, but I shook my head. I didn’t want to risk any sudden movements that might squeze this kid outta me.

“Then lets hope walking isn't making it worse”, she said not hidding the worry that was conveyed on her face.

Just before I could respond I felt a contraction that was like a vice like grasp around my middle. "Ohhhhhh noooooo, no no nooooooohhhh gaaaahhhhhhh" I moaned. Rai put her hands on me to keep me steady, "gaaaahhhh the pressurrrrrrre its tooooooo muchhhhhhh" I moaned.

"Dam I wish we weren't so far from the main road, there is no way I can even explain to an ambulance crew where we are. But I honestly don't think we are gonna make it back home in time, let alone drive you to the hospital."

I put my head on her shoulder, "I wish we jad stayed down by the river, the water helped with the pain" I said glad my contraction was over.

"Me too, but we will have to make do with what we have around us. I don't think it's wise to move you much further". With that Rai carried me to a patch of grass in time for me to hold onto a tree as another contraction took over.

"Gaaaaahhhhhhh" I moaned "ohhhhh ohhhh GAAAAAAAHHHHH" and then something inside me realised as I felt my waters break and trickle down my leg before becoming a gush. I could feel gravity pulling the baby down into my birth canal, the primal urge to push took over. My legs bend as I sqaut slightly, I can sense Rai can see whsts happened as rubbing my back and letting me do my thing.

"That's it" she whispers, "just follow what your bodies telling you to do. Your gonna be an amazing mother, no wonder our baby is wanting to come meet you."

My contraction ends and I feel my body relax before it tenses up again for the next one. I keep pushing and breathing, it didn't take long until I felt the head against my cervix. "Gaaaaahhhhh, our baby is about to start crowning".

"Don't push anymore, we need to remove your panties" Rai reminded me.

"TAKE MY DRESS OFF FIRST" I shouted agreeing I needed to be able to push the child out without my clothes being in the way. The dress was easy to take of but my panties was another matter, I was in such a deep sqaut at this point and there was no way I could straighten up. "I can't" I explained in the precious few seconds between contractions “it’s too late the baby's coming out.”

I couldn't fight it, now I was pushing I had to continue. My lips parted more and more as my baby crowned, soon there was a bulge between my legs. Rai was now on her knees behind me and I held the tree for support, she put her hand on the hard round mass that was our childs head as it emerged. "Thats it, keep going." She encoraged me as I strained to deliver the child, she held my underwear out the way as finally the head popped out of me.

“Make sure the cord…” I started to say.

"Don't worry theres nothing around the babies neck" she confirmed and I continued to push, now battling the shoulders. I moaned as the baby's shoulders were hard to birth, but then I was surprised as I felt the baby slide out of me.

Rai seemed ready as she caught the baby pulling my panties down in the process, I turned around and leaned against the tree. She handed me back the child as it started to cry it also pinked up. Both of us were speechless, looking down at the new life in my arm.

"You did it" she said, "our son, our first child".

I laughed "yes first of many I suppose" because we both knew that we made a great team and we couldn't wait to do this again.