#pitches it closer to homophobia

[helloalycia]

𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

summary: when Jackie surprises you with a kiss, you're excited at the possibility of what it could mean, only to discover she's got back together with her boyfriend the next day.

warning/s: implied internalised homophobia i suppose?

author's note: and here’s the third and final part - i hope you liked this one, loved writing for jackie 🥰 i have amother jackie one done and another in the works bc apparently i was super inspired recently lol, and i’ve also got some other stuff in progress. But the next thing I post is gonna be an alycia debnam carey imagine (gotta stick to my roots haha)

one / two / masterlist / wattpad

I groaned inwardly as I looked all around the darkroom, my locker and my school bag for my lens cap, but I just couldn't seem to find it. That's when I wondered if it could be in the bleachers on the soccer pitch – maybe it fell out of my pocket when I was shooting recently.

Like the lazy girl I was, I went outside with tunnel vision, immediately searching the bleachers for my lens cap, but I still couldn't find it. As I paused, looking up for a moment to think, I realised someone was on the pitch, and upon closer inspection at the waving figure, I realised it was Jackie. Huh.

When I climbed down from the bleachers, she jogged over to me with a confused expression, but smiling nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly, a little sweaty from practice, and it was annoying because she still managed to look good.

"I lost my lens cap for my camera," I said with a sigh. "The last place I remember having it is here."

Her fingers played with her bottom lip as she glanced around. "Oh. That's annoying. Erm..."

"It's fine," I said, not wanting her to worry herself over it when it was my problem. "I'm just having a look around, but I don't think it's here. Might pick up a new one from the camera store. Anyway, what are you doing out here? Where's the team?"

At this, she rested her hands on her hips. "No practice on today, but I wanted to have some me time. Thought I'd put in some extra practice. I've finished now anyway."

I quirked a brow. "Isn't Shauna usually your lift? How you getting home?"

"Shauna is helping her parents with something," she said, before flashing me her signature smirk. "I was planning to flirt with some sophomores and get a ride."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Of course you were."

She winked playfully and, though I didn't doubt she could find some desperate sophomore to give her a ride, I couldn't just let her do that. Besides, it seemed she was getting lifts off me a lot lately, so what was one more to add to the list?

"I'm done in the dark room if you need a ride," I offered.

"Oh, I wasn't hinting at anything," she said, giving me a genuine smile, but I shook my head.

"I know, but still. I don't mind."

Appreciative, she nodded. "Thanks. Do I have time to shower?"

"You have all the time in world, darling," I said as I looked around. "I am still yet to find my lens cap."

She stifled a chuckle. "Good luck with that. I'll go clean up. Meet you at your car?"

I hummed in agreement, already mentally retracing my steps with my camera, and she left me to it. After spending half an hour more searching all around for my lens cap, I finally gave up and went to sulk in my car. It wasn't actually a big deal, especially because I could just buy a new one after dropping Jackie off, but it was the inconvenience of it all.

Not long after I got in my car, Jackie joined me, tossing her backpack in the backseat before sliding into the passenger's seat. Looking refreshed, she shot me a smile.

"So, where to?" she asked, pulling her seatbelt on.

"Your house?" I replied, thinking it was obvious.

"But I thought you wanted to get your lens cap from the store," she said with confusion. "Oh, wait, did you find it?"

As I started the car, I said, "I didn't, but it's fine. I can drop you off home."

"I don't mind going," she said, leaning her elbow on the door. "It's on the way anyway."

"You sure?"

She hummed in agreement, so I drove us straight to the camera store, knowing I wouldn't be long. Luckily, it was still open for the day, and when we headed inside, she immediately began to wander around the small store, intrigued by the cameras on display.

I began to talk to the shopkeeper about my lens size and what camera I had, hoping he had a replacement cap I could buy, and then he left to have a look in the back.

"Y/N, there's a photo booth!" Jackie suddenly called as I was waiting for the shopkeeper to return.

"Yep," I acknowledged, having seen it a million times so not sure what the hype was.

"We have to use it, c'mon!" she pleaded, already grabbing my hand.

I rolled my eyes, having gotten used to Jackie so much that I knew to just go with the flow at this point. She was grinning as she looked at the button and money slot.

"It's fifty cents," she realised, before elbowing me in the gut as she rushed to find some coins in her pocket. Eventually she pulled out a quarter and looked at me. "You got another quarter?"

"I guess? I don't–"

"Look!" she encouraged, and I grumbled to myself as I dug around in my own pocket, managing to pull out a quarter. Before I could even offer it her, she grabbed it from my hand and put both of them in the machine.

After fiddling around, a manual timer ticked to signal the first photo was going to be taken, so Jackie moved closer to me to fit in the lens.

"Smile!" she said, and I had no choice but to listen.

The photo was taken and, just as quickly, the next timer was going off.

"Funny face!" she instructed immediately, before pulling one of her own.

I rushed to stick out my tongue, managing to do bunny ears behind her head without realising, and then the final timer was ticking.

"Okay, a kiss on the cheek for the grand finale," she said with amusement, and because we'd been so rushed up until now, I didn't really think to question who was kissing who.

As the last tick went off before the photo, I turned to kiss her cheek, but she must have done the same, because for a brief moment, our lips touched and then the photo was taken. Embarrassed, I quickly pulled away, as did she.

"Sorry," we both blurted at the same time, and suddenly this photo booth felt too small.

"Y/N?" the shopkeeper called, and I was grateful for the interruption as I stepped out the photo booth and saw he was back at the counter. "Got your lens cap. This should fit like a glove."

I swallowed thickly as I approached the counter, acutely aware of Jackie stood behind me, looking as awkward as I felt. After paying the shopkeeper, the two of us left and returned to the car.

"Er, did you want the photos or–" Jackie started to ask when we got in the car, holding the strip that the machine gave her.

"It's okay, you really wanted them," I said quickly, before distracting myself with starting the car.

To say the car ride home was awkward was an understatement, even with the radio filling the silence. I wasn't sure why, since we both knew the poor attempt of a kiss was an accident, but my fear was that I'd made her feel uncomfortable. It was the last thing I'd wanted, but I couldn't bring myself to speak, and neither could she.

I barely got chance to put my parking brake on when she got out the car and avoided my eyes.

"Thanks for the ride," she muttered, before walking up the long path to her mansion of a home.

I would have left it there, but it felt wrong to, and then I noticed she'd left her backpack in the backseat, so I called her from the open window and grabbed the bag. Jumping out the car, I jogged to meet her halfway, glad she'd stopped.

"You forgot your bag," I said, holding it out to her, and she accepted it, expressionless but staring holes into my face.

Knowing I couldn't leave it like this, I started, "Jackie, what's–"

But she cut me off instantly – and to my surprise – with a kiss. I stumbled back as she grabbed my face, kissing me with such intensity that it took me a second to realise that Jackie fucking Taylor was kissing me. And she was really good at it.

I closed my eyes, reciprocating the kiss, breathing in every part of her floral perfume, tasting every bit of her strawberry lipgloss. There was a second where we paused to take in a breath, but she closed it just as quickly, desperate and sudden and surprising.

Finally she pulled back, and then as if realising what she'd done, her hands let go of my face and she avoided eye contact like I'd make her go blind.

"Thanks," she said awkwardly, before spinning around and speed walking to her front door.

"Wait, Jackie–!"

But she fumbled for her keys and was already at her front door, not bothering to turn around. I swallowed hard, my lips still tingling from the sensation of hers, and went back to my car. Did that really just happen?

All night I was thinking about it, replaying the afternoon in my mind. She'd made me question a lot about my feelings for her in the past, and at one point, I was certain I was just projecting onto her – maybe that flirting was just who she was? But no, it had to be real, because she'd just made out with me on her own accord, and I liked it. I'd liked her, sure, but she'd always been unattainable to me for obvious reasons.

Well, until now.

The next day at school, I was hoping I could talk to Jackie about everything properly, maybe get some clarification on what she was thinking. So, you can imagine my surprise when I walked past her in the hall and saw her standing with Jeff, her supposed-to-be ex-boyfriend, leaning on his shoulder as he had an arm wrapped around her.

As soon as I saw them together, my heart dropped, the surprise easily replaced by humiliation. God, how could I have ever thought Jackie Taylor and I could be a thing? Was I stupid?

Turning to walk a different way, I fought back the urge to cry, feeling used and stupid and like an absolute fool for thinking yesterday was anything special.

"Hey, Y/N, wait," Jackie suddenly called, and then she stopped before me with apologetic eyes. "I didn't–"

"So you're back with Jeff, huh?" I got straight to the point, glaring at her.

She avoided my eyes and nodded weakly.

I scoffed, feeling much better hiding behind my anger than my sadness. "Why did you even do it, Jackie? Why d'you kiss me?"

She frowned. "I don't know."

The longer she avoided my stare, the more upset I became. How dare she do all of this, make me fall for her, force herself into my life, only to throw it back in my face.

"Just wanted to test it out?" I muttered bitterly. "Kissing a girl?"

She winced. "No, it wasn't like that."

"Then what?" I asked, searching her expression for a clue, but she refused to answer, either not having the words or not wanting to upset me anymore. Too late for that. "You should figure your shit out," I said harshly. "And don't speak to me again."

Finally, she looked up, but I was already leaving, ignoring when she called my name. I should've known she'd go back to him, she always did.

Fuck Jackie Taylor.

It was impossible to avoid her and Jeff over the next few days, since they were in a lot of my classes and always on the way to my locker, but I tried my darn best to.

Unfortunately for me, I was out grocery shopping with my mum when I spotted a familiar blonde head of hair further down the aisle from us, standing with her best friend. I was hoping if we stayed put long enough, they'd just keep going and we wouldn't bump into them, but my mum, who was oblivious to our falling out, spotted Jackie instantly.

"Oh, Y/N, your friend is here," she pointed out, and before I could tell her to keep it down, she started to call out Jackie's name, earning her attention.

"Mum, no!" I whisper-shouted, but it was too late because Jackie and Shauna were already approaching us.

I considered walking away, finding somewhere else to busy myself, but my mum would have just found a reason to make it a big deal, so I stayed put and kept quiet.

"Hey, Y/M/N," Jackie greeted my mum in her usual chirpy voice, before I felt her looking at me. "Hey, Y/N."

I ignored her, suddenly interested by the handlebar of the trolley.

"Jackie, it's so great to see you again," my mum said, genuinely happy to chat with her, since the soccer player had made quite the impression on her. "And your friend, it's Shauna, right?"

"It is, it's great to meet you," Shauna greeted her kindly before shooting me a smile. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hey," I mumbled, giving her a quick smile before looking at the bananas on display.

"You know, it's a good thing I bumped into you," my mum said to them, particularly Jackie. "I wanted to thank you again for your help at the fundraiser! We raised over five thousand dollars!"

"That's amazing," Jackie said with disbelief. "I didn't know."

At this, my mum glanced at me questioningly. "Didn't you tell her, hon?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Must've forgotten."

"Oh, Y/N," my mum scolded lightheartedly as Jackie looked away uncomfortably.

She continued to talk the girls' ears off before finally realising she was holding everyone up and saying her goodbyes. Taking the trolley from me, she began to push it forward and I was about to follow, but Jackie suddenly grabbed my arm.

"Y/N–"

I pulled my arm from her grasp, not bothering to meet her gaze. "Don't you have a soccer game to practice for or something?"

She didn't reply, and I rejoined my mum's side, remaining quiet for the rest of the trip. Why couldn't Jackie just leave me alone?

I was making notes in my English workbook as the teacher continued to explain the variations and development of children's language AKA the topic of our next assignment.

"...and I think that, just like children, students like Jackie Taylor can't seem to focus when they're supposed to be," Mr. Collins suddenly said, pulling me from my focus. "Miss Taylor, is there something particularly fascinating about the back of Miss Y/L/N's head?"

A few students giggled to themselves as I flushed with embarrassment, too afraid to turn around to see what he was talking about, though it was pretty self explanatory.

Jackie cleared her throat, embarrassed. "Of course not, sir. Sorry. Continue."

"Thank you," he said sarcastically, before continuing to read through his presentation, but my face was still flaming and I was unable to focus for the rest of class now, aware of the hazel eyes staring a hole in my back.

God, she was seriously not helping with this whole getting over her thing.

About a week after the whole Jackie thing, I unfortunately couldn't seem to avoid her forever as I had to take photos at the Yellowjackets' away game. I told myself I'd just do my job and be gone to avoid any awkwardness, but of course, that couldn't happen.

The game happened to be at East Rutherford High which wasn't a big deal, but as I was setting up my camera on the side of the pitch before the game, Olivia found me.

"Y/N, hey!" she called, and I turned around before remembering she went here.

"Liv, hey," I said with a smile, before hugging her. "I totally forgot you go here. Big soccer fan?"

She chuckled. "Not really. But my friends are so I said I'd come watch. Don't know why we bother though, the Yellowjackets always kick our arses."

I tried not to laugh because it was true. "Way to support your team."

"As a school, we've kind of accepted our defeat," she joked, before nodding to my camera. "You're taking photos for the paper, right?"

I nodded, letting my camera hang from my neck. "That's right."

"Your photos are always so good," she complimented, and I was surprised she'd seen them, so she clarified, "Sometimes our school paper look at examples of nearby schools and whenever they show us yours, I always see your photographs."

I smiled with embarrassment, though touched that she'd noticed. "Thanks, Liv, that means a lot."

She shrugged. "Just stating the truth." She paused, glancing out at the pitch as the players started to file out. "Surprised your friend, Jackie, isn't here. Didn't think she'd like me talking to you."

At this, I grew embarrassed for a different reason. "Yeah, look, I'm sorry if she was standoffish with you last time. I didn't–"

"I'm teasing," she assured me, trying not to laugh. "But it's all good. I should go find my seat anyway."

I sighed, nodding, and she smiled sweetly at me before leaving. Rubbing my face, I tried to push any thoughts of the soccer captain out of my head, hating that she was still being mentioned even when she wasn't here.

Instead, I focused my efforts on photographing the game, actually quite enjoying that it was an evening match so the lowlight gave me something to practice with. During half time, Olivia stopped by again and I welcomed it, enjoying getting to know her a little more. She was actually really chill to hang out with, but Jackie's words were still in my head about her 'textbook flirting'. Either way, Olivia was fun.

It was a given that the Yellowjackets would win, and after the game ended and I snapped some celebratory pictures, I moved to the side of the pitch to pack up my things. Olivia approached me again and I smiled.

"Great game, huh?" she said with amusement.

"Always is when the Yellowjackets play," I said playfully, and she raised her brows with mock disbelief.

"Wow, you're already starting the soccer war? That's low, Y/N," she said, making me laugh.

"Gotta support the home team," I said with a shrug. "Especially when they're that good."

She rolled her eyes, suppressing her smile. "Yeah, yeah..." As I shouldered my camera bag, she asked, "You heading off now?"

"That's the plan," I said with a tired sigh. "Why? Aren't you?"

She locked eyes with me, smiling softly. "I was going to ask if you're free to hang right now. Could grab some food or something?"

"Oh," I said, realising she was asking me out. "I– erm–"

It sounded fun, and why couldn't I enjoy a dinner with a cute girl? Smile forming on my lips, I was about to agree, but then the devil's spawn herself decided to appear.

"There you are," Jackie said, looking to me, either oblivious to my annoyance or choosing to ignore it.

"Didn't take long," Olivia mumbled to herself, but I heard it. Clearing her throat, she said to me, "I'm gonna guess you're busy tonight?"

"Oh, there's an after game party," Jackie answered for me, making me clench my jaw. "Kind of a tradition."

Olivia forced a smile. "Right."

"I never go anyway," I said quickly, earning her attention, and receiving a glare from Jackie who I so desperately wished would leave. "I can–"

"The others are asking if you'll go tonight actually," Jackie interrupted, flashing a sickly sweet smile at me.

If looks could kill, she'd be toast right now. Who the hell did she think she was to step in right now? She'd shown me how she felt – she didn't have a right to do this.

"Never mind," Olivia said, already backing up. "Enjoy."

Losing my glare, I looked to Olivia, ready to apologise, but she'd already walked off to join her friends and I knew I'd only make it worse.

"Huh, I was right," Jackie mumbled to herself, which reminded me she was still standing there and very much the reason Olivia hated me now.

"What the hell d'you do that for?!" I shouted at her.

She raised her brows, feigning confusion. "Do what?"

I clenched my fists with frustration. "No! You don't just get to do that!"

She shook her head. "What?"

I scowled, looking between her eyes with annoyance. "Care. You led me on. Used me as– I don't even know what! Some sort of rebound? An experiment? Either way, it was horrible, and now you don't get to just come in and stop me from accepting dates. You're nothing to me, Jackie."

As I spoke, she began to frown, only serving to piss me off further. How could she act like the victim right now? I was the one who'd been played!

"I didn't use you," she said weakly, but I could only step back and fix her with a glare.

"Leave me alone," I warned her once more, not bothering to stay behind to see what she'd say.

The weekend passed and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking of Jackie the whole time. I wished I'd never found her crying after her breakup with Jeff because then I wouldn't have felt the need to check on her and she wouldn't have felt the need to be my friend. My life was a whole lot easier when she wasn't in it, and yet I still couldn't stop thinking of her. She was bad for me, so why did I still care about her?

I hadn't seen her since the game on Friday night, and despite the fact that she'd literally humiliated me, I still felt guilty for shouting at her. I wasn't someone who got angry easily, but truthfully, it wasn't anger. My heart hurt and who else to take it out on than the girl who broke it?

It was foolish of me to even feel that way, since we weren't anything. She'd never said she cared about me as more than a friend, she hadn't really done anything out of the ordinary except kiss me, which had clearly been a mistake. Her flirtatious behaviour was just typical Jackie. I knew what I was getting myself into. I guess this whole thing was my fault in a way.

Trying to take my mind off it, I stayed back after school to start putting my end of year portfolio together for photography class. I was grateful that nobody else was here, needing the quiet to simply get lost in my school work and nothing else.

I was considering some photographs on the desk when the sound of the door opening startled me. Nobody was supposed to be here, but when I turned around, my surprise faded into irritation at the sight of Jackie.

"Okay, seriously, do you need me to sing it you?" I asked with disbelief. "Write it down? Get a fucking sky writer?! Leave me alone, Jackie!"

"Wait," she said quickly, closing the door behind her and letting herself in, making me groan. "Please, I just– I have something to say."

I rolled my eyes, looking back to my photos with hopes she'd get the hint. "What? You finally figure your shit out?"

It was sarcastic, so I definitely didn't expect her to say, "Yeah. I broke up with Jeff."

My brows knitted together with confusion when I looked to her again. "You what?"

She licked her lips, grateful for the relief in tension. "After the game on Friday. I ended it."

I was certainly shocked to hear that she'd done that, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. Crossing my arms, I tried to appear indifferent. "So what?"

She exhaled softly, steadily approaching me until she was stood right in front of me. Her hazel eyes, looking brown as they met mine, held my gaze with determination.

"You weren't an experiment," she said guiltily. "You weren't a rebound either. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N."

I frowned, eyes flickering between hers. Both my frustration and distress were building up because she seemed to be telling the truth, and it wasn't fair. She still did it. She broke my heart.

"Then what?" I asked, hands trembling. "How else can it seem when you–" I paused, glancing at the classroom door which was closed. Still, I lowered my voice for her sake. "When you kissed me – which, by the way, you initiated – then, before I can even discuss it with you, you get back together with your boyfriend? How?!"

She frowned, shaking her head as she looked down to her hands. "It was horrible, I know. You have to know how much I regret it."

"Gee, thanks," I said bitterly, and she was quick to look up again, worried.

"Wait, no, that's not what I meant," she explained. "I regret getting back together with Jeff, not kissing you. I– I liked that a lot." She was unusually nervous, swallowing visibly. "I like you."

My heart was confused as I studied her expression, seeing nothing but honesty.

"I should've said something," she admitted. "I didn't know that I'd fall for you, Y/N. I've never even liked a girl. Especially not one who's so sure of herself."

I scoffed, meeting her confused look with a knowing one. "Seriously? You're Jackie fucking Taylor, the most confident girl in school."

"Not always," she said with a wince. "Clearly."

I watched her, struggling to accept what she was saying.

"I understand if you hate me," she said, straightening up and meeting my gaze with a solemn one. "And I'll truly leave you alone, as you wish. Just say the word."

I pressed my lips together, seeing the serious expression on her face. I couldn't just say the word, because no matter how hard I'd tried to hate her, I just couldn't. All I'd really wanted was for her to like me, too.

She stood patiently, probably would have stood there for the rest of the day, waiting for me to speak. And I hated it because she'd hurt me deeply, but now I understood why. And even after everything, I still wanted her.

"Y/N?"

For once, I stopped overthinking and just kissed her, eyes closing when my lips met hers. She breathed out and lifted her hand to rest on my neck, pulling me closer and sending shivers down my spine at the contact. It was desperate, I was aware, but I couldn't get enough of her taste, her floral scent reminding me of last time, the adrenaline rush.

Without meaning to, her back hit her the desk behind her, but other than a brief readjustment, we continued to make out, my head spinning with thoughts of how good she felt so close to me. Stupid pretty girls and their stupid pretty faces.

We pulled apart for air, but I didn't let go of her just yet. My heart was thumping in my chest as I caught my breath, lips tingling as they craved for hers yet again.

"I really like you too," I said without thinking, eyes flickering to hers. "That's why it stung when you did what you did. Why I was so angry."

She nodded slowly in understanding. "I'm sorry."

I sighed, closing my eyes as I tried to collect my thoughts, but it was pretty damn difficult when she was still invading every sense of mine and I welcomed it.

"I don't know how I can trust you," I admitted, opening my eyes and being met with her determined expression.

"You can," she promised.

"What if you decide you don't want this anymore?" I asked, not wanting to doubt her feelings, but not prepared to start something that could end in heartbreak. "What if you think you've made a mistake? Start to miss Jeff? Then what, Jackie?"

"That won't happen," she said with certainty, thumb stroking my cheek.

"But it could."

She frowned, eyes boring into mine as if trying to make me understand. Finally, she said, "I'll spend forever proving you wrong."

I got lost in her eyes, so full of conviction that I had no choice but to believe her. Maybe some things were worth the risk. She certainly was.

"I'd love to see that," I said after a moment, an attempt at a joke.

She paused, trying to digest my words, and then she cracked a small smile.

"I forgive you," I told her. "I know how hard it can be to admit your feelings to yourself, especially for the first time."

She was hopeful, and I was suddenly overcome with an excitement because Jackie Taylor was stood in my arms, telling me she liked me, and I wasn't dreaming.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked, making me smile.

A simple nod and then she captured my bottom lip between hers, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter a storm. Unlike before, this kiss was slower than the others, more considerate, and I knew then and there that I'd never get sick of her lips.

She pulled away after leaving me breathless, her eyes half lidded when they looked from my lips to my eyes. "How was that for proving you wrong?"

I let out a breathy chuckle, admittedly a little flustered. "It's a start."

A smug smile appeared on her lips and then she was kissing me again, laughing as she did.

Lil bonus scene:

This was the least peppiest pep rally I'd ever been to, producing the worst photos I could take because everybody looked bored. As the principal made a speech about how 'good' the baseball team were doing this year, I snapped a few photos but ultimately sat bored in the front row. Everybody was much more excited for the star of the show – the Yellowjackets.

And after what felt like forever, the school band began to play their instruments and the soccer team began making their way in. Like a switch had been flipped, all the students in the bleachers stood up, cheering and applauding and celebrating their favourite sports team.

A much better subject, I began to photograph the crowd, all dressed in the bright yellow and blue school colours, waving signs and beaming with painted faces. And then my focus shifted to the team themselves, who were lining up before the crowd, grins on their faces. Despite the principal trying to calm everyone down so he could make his speech about how great they were doing, nobody would listen, still cheering on the team.

As I was snapping photos of them all, Jackie caught my eye and a playful smirk was on her lips when she winked at me. Even after the month we'd been together so far, she still left me nervous sometimes, thought I'd accepted that was what came with dating someone as self-assured as Jackie Taylor. We hadn't broadcasted our relationship by any means, but students at school weren't stupid and they were beginning to put it together. I didn't mind though, and I hoped she didn't either.

Finally, the principal managed to quieten everyone down long enough to make a speech worth listening to, expressing his pride in the Yellowjackets and wishing them luck as they prepared for the game tomorrow which would determine whether they'd make it to nationals.

After he finished, the band played them out, along with the audience's cheering, and then everybody began to leave. I was one of the last few to go, making my way out of the sports hall, only to be pulled to the side suddenly, realising Jackie had been waiting for me.

"Someone took their time," she said impatiently, crossing her arms, now wearing her varsity jacket over her soccer uniform.

"Someone was doing their job," I reminded her with a smile, wiggling my camera in the air.

At this, she quirked a brow. "You got my good side, right?"

I laughed. "Jackie Taylor doesn't have a bad side. She knows it too."

She began to smile, flicking her hair in agreement, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"You look cute with your face paint on," I told her, referring to the little yellow jacket painted on her cheek.

"It's called school pride," she said, before giving me a disapproving look. "You didn't dress up."

"Again, I was busy photographing everything," I said, raising my camera for emphasis.

"Well, we can't have that," she said, tutting, and then she pulled off her varsity jacket and attempted to wrap it around me, but I stopped her.

"Wait," I said, realising what she was doing.

"What?"

I stared at her knowingly. "It's your jacket."

"Duh."

"Yeah," I agreed in a matter-of-fact tone, "but–"

"I'm giving it to you," she said simply, confused when I wouldn't put my arms in it as she held it open.

"You can't," I said, wondering if she was playing dumb or what.

She furrowed her brows. "What? Why?"

I amended my comment, "I mean, yeah, you can, but you know that people will put two and two together, right? You give me that and it'll be, like, an actual confirmation to everyone that we're dating."

Still, she wasn't following as she stared with raised brows. "Okay? And...?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. "You don't mind?"

Finally catching on to why I was questioning her, she relaxed and lowered the jacket momentarily. "That's sweet of you to ask, but no, I don't mind." She paused, before glancing at me worriedly. "Wait, do you?"

I sighed, before an amused smile formed on my lips. "No, I don't. I just didn't want you to feel like you had to."

Her expression softened, smile appearing on her lips and matching the sparkle in her eyes. "I want to. Now, come here."

This time, I let her help me into her jacket, immediately engulfed in her scent and warmth and not minding in the slightest. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork, eyes looking me up and down for several seconds too long and leaving me with a warm face.

"I should've given you this sooner," she said, impressed, and I rolled my eyes at her pride.

She chuckled before pulling me in for a quick kiss, and then we walked hand in hand down the hallway.

"You know that this means you have to be my number one fan now, right?" she asked, giving me a sideways glance.

I tried not to laugh as I said, "But I already supported the team–"

"No, not the team's fan," she cut me off nonchalantly, "mine. Me. Player number nine."

At her dead serious expression, I began to chuckle quietly. "Nine. My new favourite number, darling."

A smile crept on her lips. "Good."

[slamminslamminmcgill]

I LITERALLY ONLY FINISHED EP 1 OF TLOU BEFORE WRITING THIS 😭 this man just has me going fucking insane rn i had to word vomit. spent my whole day on this bc im delulu

warning: homophobia and transphobia, trans fetishization, degradation/humiliation, slurs, vaginal sex, rough oral sex, NASTY daddy kink (like… borderline incest rp and ddlb maybe idk i just work here), hanky code, spit kink, breeding kink, gags, drug dealing (weed and opioids), reader is a sex worker/weed dealer with clit piercings

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/kitty, clit/(t-)dick

It started as a drug deal. A bad habit picked up after top surgery. A rumor that this guy sold opioids. A wink and a nod of the head from across the plaza during a hanging. A few hankies tucked in your jeans, two shades of blue on the right, light green and a flag on the left. You were never sure if he knew what they meant. You’d never had the chance to ask. Until today, you happened to have a favor to ask him.

“Look, you know I’m usually reliable, right? If you could just gimme more time, I promise I’ll get you an ounce on Monday, on me.” That was a pretty decent offer. You usually gave him a quarter of bud every trade, so an ounce for the same price was surely nothing to sneeze at.

“If you’re not ready today, you ain’t gettin’ shit today. Sorry, kid.” Fuck. Ah, well. At least he wasn’t mad at you. Plus, he always called you ‘kid’. It made sense, since he was definitely old enough to be your dad. Maybe he had a soft spot for you. And he certainly met the diagnostic criteria for DILF, but goddamnit, your gaydar couldn’t get a reading on him. You figured the best way to find out for sure would be to offer up your other goods and services and see if he takes the bait.

“Well, uh… maybe there’s…” You took a step closer to him, putting all your weight into your hips hoping they’d jump out at him, “…something else I can offer you?”

They didn’t. His stare never shifted from your face. “Like what?” Joel asked unclockably.

You took the tips of your hankies between your fingers and held them out to him, spreading your wings, a display for attracting mates not unlike that of a peacock. “You know what these mean?” You asked with a quirk in the brow and some devious faggotry in your voice.

Joel crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, a cocky, almost sort of try me type stance. “What do they mean?”

You named your hankies, one-by-one. Green, “This one means I’m a sex worker,” Trans, “This one means I have a pussy,” Navy, “This one means I get fucked,” and Cyan, “This one means I suck co-“

“I’m sorry, that one means what?” Joel interrupted, and pointed at your trans flag. He wasn’t just gonna let you gloss over that, just as you’d hoped.

“Oh, this one?” You pinched the tail of the trans flag and let the rest fall to your sides. A cheeky, cherubic, chaotic smile on your face as you taunted him. “It means I have a pussy. I’m trans.”

Joel’s face contorted in a few spasms of different emotions. A blink of shock, a blip of disgust, a second of intrigue, ‘til he landed on confusion. “So, uh…” His eyes crawled downwards to your crotch, then back up to you. “…how’s that work?”

Sure, you could give him the polite conversation explanation of the transmasculine identity, gender dysphoria and its treatments. Or, you could give the simplest and sexiest possible definition that would appeal to Schrödinger’s Straight Man over here. “Was born a girl, cut my tits off, shot up testosterone, and now I’m a man, but I kept my cunt.”

“Fuckin’ Christ…” He grunted, then cleared his throat, trying his damndest to remain calm and bloodbend his newfound erection away. Today was the wrong day for the light wash jeans. His growing bulge was the visual feedback of your influence on him.

A by-the-book boypussy sales pitch. Testing well with the focus group. You took another step with a sway of the hips, encroaching on his personal space but not penetrating it just yet. “Well? Whaddaya think?”

Joel bit his lip and said nothing for a moment. It seemed he was taking his time to figure out what exactly he did think about your revelation. “…Just 2 pills?”

“Just 2 pills…” You nodded, “Just enough to last me the weekend…” and took another step closer, then one more, until you could reach out and rub his bicep. “I’ll bump you up to an ounce, get it to you on Monday…” Your curious fingers started to trail down his arms and over to his delightfully soft dad-bod tummy. “And I’ll show you a good time today… Show you something you’ve never seen before…”

To say you were coming on pretty strong would be a massive understatement. And, hell, touching him? You were coming on like you had a death wish. Your hand slid downward, down to the heat he was packing in his pants, and stroking his rifle in your game of tactile Russian Roulette.

You loaded the chamber…

“All for just two little pills. So?”

Spun the barrel…

“What do you say?”

And pulled the trigger.

“Please, Daddy?”

And with those two whorish words, he snapped. Joel grabbed you by the wrist and slammed you into the brick wall behind him. You gasped in shock and winced in pain. It happened so fast, you barely had any time to think about the mistake you’d just made, but before you could choke out an I’m sorry, his lips were on yours. You moaned into the kiss and he snarled into it, slobbering all over each other in a fit of lust.

“Bratty little fuckin’ queer. So you’re saying you have a cunt, huh, boy? No bullshit?” Joel sneered as he shoved his hand between your legs. He grabbed your crotch and squeezed it tight, delighted to find no bulge, nothing in his way but a few layers of clothing. “Ooh, damn, kiddo, guess you’re right. Ain’t you fuckin’ special…” He let your wrist fall so he could grab your jaw. “Open,” he commanded, and your lips obliged. He spat into your open mouth, and then his lips were back on you.

Your hands scrambled for purchase on his back, eventually clutching his hair and his shirt for lifelines. The second you’d laid eyes on this guy, you knew he’d be a good fuck, and you couldn’t believe your luck. That monumental gamble you took just now had won you the jackpot, and now it was time to bask in your victory.

Joel grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you out of the kiss. “You want your fuckin’ pills, cuntboy?”

“Yeees…” That was why you originally came to him, yes, but now you wanted a whole lot more.

“You want those fuckin’ pills?”

“Yeees, yes, I wan-em…”

“Say please.”

“Pleeease…”

“Please, what?”

“Pleeease, Daddyyy… P-Please, Daddy, I wan- I wan’ the pills…”

“You gonna suck your Daddy’s cock for ‘em?”

“Y-Yeees, Daddyyy…”

“So do it.”

Joel dropped you and let you stumble onto your knees in front of him. You rocked back and forth impatiently as he undid his belt and fished his cock out of his jeans. As you suspected, it was massive, flushed an angry shade of red, and throbbing painfully. He gave it a tantalizing stroke, peeling back the foreskin and pulling it taut on the rebound. You licked your lips at the precum leaking from its slit, waiting for his instruction.

“Open,” He demanded once more. You acquiesced, opening your mouth wide enough for him to stuff his cock in your throat. He let out a deep, husky, growl as he slid down your airway. “Yeahhh, that’s it… That’s it, kiddo…”

Even in your dickdrunk, cockgagged haze, you could guess what was coming next. In preparation, you braced yourself with your hands on his hips, and relaxed your throat as best you could for him to fuck it. Turns out, your intuition was right.

“Fuck, yeah, fuckin’… Fuckin’ choke on it, whore… Choke on Daddy’s cock.” He grunted, grabbed your hair, and held you still while he thrusted into your mouth unforgivably. Tears, snot, and drool were running down your face in no time, and Joel was loving it. “Aw, look at that, yeah, good boy…”

You whined reflexively at the praise, accidentally sucking some spit into your windpipe and choking you in a less sexy and more dangerous manner than intended. Your eyes bulged open and you slapped his thigh twice, tapping out. Thankfully, he got the hint and let you go.

You coughed up the spit and smacked your own chest to clear your airway. “Sorry… Wrong pipe…”

“Take your time.” Joel replied, “Not try’na kill ya.”

Once you could regulate your breathing and you were sure you weren’t at risk of death by blowjob, you got back to work, at your own pace this time. You had the chance to explore him. Stroking and squeezing his shaft and his sack, fluttering your tongue underneath his tip, licking long stripes from the balls to the head. Less force, but no less intensity.

“Ngh, little faggot sure knows his way around a cock, don’t he?” Joel snickered and ruffled your hair. “So good at this, I would’a never believed you don’t got one yourself.”

True, you may not have been blessed with a cock attached to you, but you’d gotten plenty inside you. Not exactly your hometown, but familiar terrain nonetheless. When you felt like you could, you swallowed his length whole, swiping your tongue along his balls as you gagged. Joel threw his head back and moaned into the air, and then, you rode him with your throat again.

“Fu-u-uck, oh, shit, yeah… Yeah, you suck Daddy’s cock… Suck your old man’s cock for pills, and you’ll get ‘em, son... You’ll get ‘em, you fuckin’ junkie.”

You’d honestly forgotten this was about pills. You just got so caught up in the love of the sport, it had totally slipped your mind. Though dangling the carrot of oxies in front of your spit-drenched face was as good an incentive as any, and despite the burning in your windpipe, you sucked him with more power, more speed, more emotion, and more determination. You could taste victory leaking and throbbing on your tongue.

“F-Fuck… I-… I can’t…” Joel’s face was a picture of overwhelming pleasure. He had to pull you off. His wet, pulsating cock popped out of your mouth, and he huffed and puffed wiping sweat from his brow. “As much as I’d like to dump a load in your stomach…” He nudged his boot in between your legs, right up against your burning cunt. “I need to see your specialty, first.” He extended a hand to help you off your knees, then when you stood, hugged you to him and spanked each of your ass cheeks, jiggling them both as he gave his next order. “Take off your pants and bend over. Let Daddy see that pretty kitty of yours.”

You giggled, a goofy, stupid slutty smile on your face, and nodded. “Hehehe, okay… Okay…” You unbuckled your pants and let your jeans drop to the dirt. You stepped out of them and kicked them aside. You turned 90 degrees, put your hands on the brick wall, and stuck your ass out to Joel. He took his place behind you, grabbed your ass, and spread you open to take a peek at your holes. You shivered as the cool breeze ran over your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, I can’t even remember the last time I saw a cunt like this…” Two of his fingers traced your slit then spread your lips, exposing yourself even more to him. He chuckled when he saw your dick piercing. “‘Specially not one with these fancy hood ornaments.” He couldn’t resist the urge to tug on the jewelry.

Naturally, your knees buckled beneath you and you slid down the wall. “A-Ah!” You squeaked, “F-Fuck! S-Sen-Sensitive!” You tried to warn him, but really you were showing off your weak point with the conspicuousness of a video game boss fight.

“Oh, yeah?” Joel scoffed and supplemented it with a smack on the ass. You could feel him kneel down behind you, and he said, “Good.”

And then his lips were on your t-dick and sucking it like a leech.

You had to scream, bad, but it was broad fucking daylight and FEDRA could show up at any second. Instead, you bit down on your hand, sinking all the energy into your teeth as your body collapsed in on itself. Before long, your cunt was dripping down into his mouth, so much so, that there was an audible splash when his lips let you go.

“Christ, you’re a mess. Gonna ruin my fuckin jeans, ‘f I don’t take ‘em off.” Joel stood up and out of his own pants then tossed them beside yours. You heard some more rustling of clothing, felt a swipe up your pussy, then a tap on your lips with wet fingertips. “Open,” he instructed yet again.

You opened your mouth to lick and suck at his fingers, or so you thought. Instead, they pulled away and gagged you with one of your own hankies. Judging purely by the texture, you deduced that it was the trans flag. You relaxed and let him tie the gag more comfortably.

“There.” Joel said, patting you on the ass affirmatively. “Now I don’t gotta worry ‘bout you bein’ a fuckin’ screamer.” Two strong hands took your hips and lined him up with his target. You could feel his head prodding, but not breaching your hole. “Ready?”

You bit down on the gag and nodded feverishly at him. He poked your hole once, then twice, then started to push in and ohmyfuckinggodhe’shugeimeanyouknewthatalreadybutfuckitfeelsbetterthanyouthoughtitwould.

Without the ability to articulate any of those words, you whimpered through the gag and clawed at the wall like a cat trying to get in the bathroom.

“Biiig stretch, kiddo, that’s it…” Joel groaned, “That’s a good boy… Daddy’s almost in…”

Almost in? What the fuck did he mean by-ohshitthatswhatthefuckhemeantbyalmostin… He was so fucking thick that the stretch nearly burned, and long enough to feel like he was excavating your pussy to make room for himself. It was mind-numbing how big he was. He took up not only all the space in your cunt but in your brain as well. You’d never had someone dig so fucking deep.

“There you go, nice and full.” He leaned down to kiss your neck and pin your wrists together above your head. “Daddy’s perfect little cocksleeve…”

He withdrew his hips, practically taking your cunt with him on the way out since it refused to let go, and then speared his cock back into you. His thrust was a shockwave that rocked through your whole body. You let out a garbled moan into the spit-drenched fabric each time he did it. Eventually, he had a steady tempo going.

“Nghhh, so fucking tight… Real fuckin’ tight for a whore. And you’re fuckin’ soaked…” He gave your ass another swat, then stopped moving for a moment. “C’mon, slut, fuck yourself back on your Daddy’s dick. Ride your Daddy’s dick, now-yeahhh, that’s it…” He purred as you started to bounce your ass on him. For a little extra encouragement, he reached out to pet your hair. And for some guidance and a little extra oomph, he slammed his hips forward in time with yours, making his cock hit you twice as hard. “That’s a good boy…”

It was unbelievable, almost intolerable how good he felt. You almost couldn’t bear the thought of fucking any of your regular clients ever again. This was a Flowers for Algernon-type dicking, the absolute pinnacle of nasty sex for just a little while, and you’ll spend the rest of your sex life downhill from here. You’d like to hope that wouldn’t be the case, but none of the other dick you’d gotten in the past could even compare.

And it all stemmed from asking for a front on some oxies.

Joel reminded you of that when he said, “Next time you’re needing a front, I’ll-ngh… I’ll make you work for it, whore… Take you home and fuck you in the ass instead… Let you scream as loud as you need to… Let that little pussy weep for me and it’s gettin’ nothin’… You want some painkillers, then you gon’ hurt for ‘em, son…”

Honestly, the idea of a ‘next time’ had you excited regardless of what hole he wanted to bust open. If you were lucky, maybe it’d be out of mutual enjoyment rather than an exchange. Soon, he struck that special spot inside you, that inner button that has you seeing stars and screaming obscenities into the flag gag. Your hands balled into fists and pounded at the wall. It was getting to be too much to bear. Of course, with your flag in the way, your cries of Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna come! sounded as, “Auck! Auck! Ah gah-ah cah!”

Luckily, Joel spoke fluent slut. “You’re gonna cum? Gonna cum for your daddy?” He knotted his fingers in your hair and yanked you up against his chest. He shoved you both forward until you hit brick, and without an inch of space for you to squirm, he rutted into you relentlessly. “Then do it, slut. Cum on your daddy’s cock. Daddy wants to feel his little man cum all over him.”

God, how could a sentence be so nurturing and so nasty at the same time? So sweet and yet so fucking sick? Regardless of Sigmund Freud screaming ‘I told you so’ somewhere in your head, you came buckets, splashing Joel’s thighs with pussy juice on his every thrust. Your legs gave out around the fourth or fifth gush, and Joel had to hold you up for him to finish.

“Fuck, yeah, keep coming, keep coming, baby, Daddy’s close…” Joel groaned. Every word he said grew more vile and more primal than the last. His only need was to breed. “Daddy’s gonna knock you up, son… Gonna dump some brothers and sisters into ya… ‘N’ you’re gonna fuckin’ take it… Ngh, gonna take my fuckin’ load in ya ‘cause you’re a little cumdump pussyboy whore… ‘S what you’re meant for-shit… Shit!”

He squeezed your body tight and growled into your ear. Hot spurts of his cum flooded your battered cunt. On any other occasion, you’d cringe at some rando calling his load your siblings, but it just felt so good. You couldn’t give less of a fuck what he called it. And it’s not like he was your actual father. He was committing to the bit, a bit that had you mewing and sobbing with pleasure and repressed emotion, but that was a problem for your therapist later.

The world went still as you both came down from orbit. The rest of the QZ didn’t exist in that moment. It was just you and your “daddy”, a man twice your age that you trade drugs with and who just busted a nut in you. Honestly, still a better father figure than most. Closest thing to a dad you had for damn sure.

You felt that paternal vibe from him as he kissed the side of your neck. “You okay, little guy?” Joel asked tenderly. He untied the gag and tossed the flag by your jeans, letting you answer him.

“Mm… Mhm… I’m okay…” You stuttered, still counting on his grip to keep you standing.

“Good boy.” A few quick pecks to your neck and he slipped out, a few drops of his kids pooling in the dirt below you. “Now get dressed. I got shit to do.” He demanded with a final slap on your ass.

You stumbled over to your pants, leaning onto the wall to guide yourself. Even after dressing himself, Joel got to them first, and held them out for you to step into.

“Yeah, there you go, kid. You’re okay.” He cooed, and then clapped you on the shoulders to get your attention. Your head snapped up to see him reach into his pocket and pull out a plastic bag wrapped in tinfoil. He fished out two white pills and gave them to you, just as you agreed to.

“Thanks. I really appreciate it,” You gave him a shy smile, feeling grateful for the front and the frenzied faux-father-son fucking he just bestowed upon you. “Oh, and, uh… I… I had a good time, s-so if you ever wanna-“

“I’ll see you Monday, kid.”

[wandafiction]

She's My Wife - Part 2

Warnings: None, fluff, hints of homophobia (but very very small)

You and Scarlett walk hand in hand into the restaurant, both of your eyes scanning the room for the people you are meant to be meeting. A small clearing of the throat causes you to look at the waiter who has come over to assist.

"Good evening. Table for 2?" He looks down at the bookings in the large diary, trying to find a booking before you have even confirmed it. 

"Uh, no. We are here for our friends. Under the name Downey." The waiter's eyes flick up to look you up and down a single raised eyebrow, before finally landing on your beautiful girlfriend and his demeanour changes. 

"Right, right. Of course." He stands up brushing his hands over his uniform to tidy it up, holding two menus under his arm the other outstretched to show you where you should start walking. "Sorry Miss Johansson I didn't recognise you, my apologies for causing inconvenience."

"It's Mrs." You smirk holding in a laugh as Scarlett wraps her arm around yours pulling you closer together as you walk, her other hand moving to rest on your forearm.

"Oh I didn't know you had gotten married. Well congratulations." The waiter hasn't looked back since he started leading you through the maze of tables and towards some stairs; you assume that a private room has been booked for the meal. "Is your husband away somewhere?" 

"Sorry?" Scarlett raises her brows, her voice going higher in pitch in disbelief and you let out a small chuckle. 

"Well I'm assuming your husband is away since you're here with…" he looks over his shoulder his eyes travelling up and down your body but you watch as his brows scrunch when he sees your joined arms. "Friend?"

"Firstly, that is none of your business you are simply showing us to our table. Secondly, I didn't bring my husband because I brought my wife. Thirdly, you need to learn to hide what you're thinking better. Your face gives everything away." Scarlett spits at the waiter who simply mumbles an apology and is quick to show you to the private room that Robert has booked.

“Y/n.” You smile widely as you hear the very recognizable squeal of your sister as she gets up from her chair and runs and jumps into your arms, which easily wrap around her body keeping her up. 

“Well hello to you, lizard.” You giggle as Lizzie gently smacks your arm wiggling in your hold silently asking to be put down. “You are such a child.” 

“Hey.” Lizzie whines jutting out her bottom lip in a pout. “You’re younger than me.”

“Yet you are the one who runs and jumps into my hold like a koala.” Lizze whines more, forcing herself to pout more as she crosses her arms over her chest acting - well - like a complete child. 

“I thought you liked my hugs.” Her act is good, but you see the small smile pulling at the corner of her lips and you step forward bringing her into another hug; her arms instantly wrapping around you.

“I do, they are my favourite.” It’s only now, by the clearing of someone's throat, that you remember you are in a room full of people. Some who you have met before, because they called the police on you, others are looking between you, Lizzie and Scarlet in utter confusion. 

“Hello, I don’t think we have been introduced.” Lizzie scrunches her brow at the sound of the smooth British accent, her head turning to look at the man you know to be Tom Hiddleston and you unwrap one arm from Lizzie holding out to him.

“Hi, I’m Y/n it's nice to meet you.” He puts on his best smile, taking your hand lifting it to his lips and kissing the back of it.

“The pleasure is all mine darling.” He lowers your hand letting it go and you instantly bring it to Scarlett’s back gently rubbing up and down, not at all surprised when you feel wrap her arm possessively around your waist; rolling your eyes when you hear Lizzie giggle.

“As much as I love the cuddle fest going on, would you like to introduce us to your friend Scarlett.” Scarlett’s hand on your hip gives a gentle squeeze and Lizzie finally unwraps her hold around you, placing a small kiss on your cheek before heading back to her seat next to Robbie, you and your wife now looking at Chris who has a knowing smirk on his lips as his eyes look at Scarlet’s hand. 

“Everyone this is Y/n. My wife.” She says with the widest smile, her eyes shining as she looks up at you with nothing but pure adoration and your stomach fills with butterflies at the sight and the word wife. Even after 2 years it still melts your insides to hear her call you it.

“Wife?!” A chorus of voices and questions can be heard as you shake your head leaning down to give Scarlett a soft kiss.

“Here we go again.” You mumble against her lips, slowly pulling away as you look to the table of marvel people - who are all looking between you and Scarlett with wide eyes.

“Haha! I knew this piece of information. I am better than you all!” Robert says with a smug smile as takes a sip of his wine before looking at you. “It is lovely to see you again Y/n and under better circumstances this time.”

“It certainly is Robert.” You tip your imaginary hat at the man who raises his glass in reply to your gesture. 

“Hey I knew too!” Chris protests throwing his napkin at Robert who chucks it back at him, so Chris throws one of the breadsticks from the table instead which hits Robert's forehead and breaks. “Ha! Take that bitch.”

“That’s gotta be foul play?” Robert asks the table.

“Nope, I’m the judge on this one and I say Chris gets the point.” Sebastian takes a seat opposite to Chris, next to the other Tom, giving him a small fist bump.

“See I win.” 

“Hey, now don’t make the sore loser feel any worse.” Seb lightly scolds. 

“Scarlett, we left you guys a seat. Come sit.” Chris throws his napkin at Seb’s head as he gets up from his seat walking around to where Lizzie is sitting, next to Robbie, pulling out the two free chairs and gestures for you two to sit. 

“Thank you Chris.” Scarlett smiles up at the man as you help her out of her coat, placing it on the back of her chair and once she is sat you tuck her chair in for her sitting herself next to Tom Hiddleston. 

“I just want to apologise for how I was the first time we met. I was just in shock. You make her happy.” Chris whispers to you as he pulls you into a small hug before ushering you to sit down between Scarlett and Lizzie and he pushes your chair in for you. 

“Okay, so Chris, Robert and Lizzie know who you are. Why don’t we? Scarlett, why did we not know you were married? And Robert, why didn’t you tell me?” You chuckle as you watch Gwyneth hit Roberts shoulder with a false look of betrayal painted on her face.

“Yeah honey, why didn’t you tell me work wife? Let alone your real wife.” You look at Scarlett as you hear her laughing, covering her mouth with her hand and trying to cover it up as a cough, as Susan joins in by hitting Robert’s shoulder.

“Hey, ladies hey! Ow. Ouch.” Robert shifts left to right in his seat as the two women repeatedly hit him a few times all of them laughing before Robert quickly leans forward grabbing some of the breadsticks from the table and hitting the two of them with it which makes both the women’s jaw drop and stop what they are doing.

“Did you just attack us with breadsticks?” Susan asks and Robert smiles with a grimace.

“You hit me first!” He defends but it just earns another smack from Susan.

“And you lied to us. It was warranted.” Everyone at the table laughs as Robert looks to them to help defend him.

“She’s right, you earned it.” Paul states simply earning a middle finger from Robert.

“He is right, you lied, even if you simply didn’t tell her something. Women know everything, and if they don’t they will find out one way or another. So simple fact is if you know something, especially drama. Tell her..” Robbie laughs relaxing in his chair hiding his smirk behind his bottle of beer and you see Lizzie squint her eyes at him for a moment before humming with a short nod looking over to paul.

“I think that's him trying to convince himself to tell me something but he is right Robert, we know everything.” 

“Well they didn’t know about Scarlett and Y/n.” He replies with a chuckle.

“Because you didn’t tell us.” Both Susan and Gwyneth say at the same time hitting him one more time.

“OW!”

“Hey, I’m the other Tom. It is really nice to meet you. I would say Scarlett has told us a lot about you, but you are like a little secret which is kind of cool because that's what me and Z are trying to do. Sorry Z is my girlfriend, it's short for Zendaya, but she couldn’t make it tonight. So tell us about yourself.” I chuckle at Tom who is sitting next to Gwyneth; opposite Lizzie.

“And breathe child.” Seb inhales and exhales slowly as the rest of the cast giggle as Tom goes bright red.

“Hey, leave the kid alone. He is just excited to meet someone his age.” Your jaw drops as you look at Chris who shrugs. “What? It's true.”

“Wait your 25?!” Tom asks with a wide smile. “Woah Scarlett you're like a sugar mama.”

“Woah, hey, no. If anything, I'm the sugar mama in this relationship. Thank you very much.” 

“Really?” His brows raise in surprise and you shake your head laughing.

“No. Not really. I don’t earn nearly anywhere near what you guys do, but that’s not what's important.”

“I like that, so. What do you do for a job?” Tom shuffles forward in his seat taking a sip from his beer.

“Well…” Just before you can tell them your life story starts, the door to the room enters and a different, young, waiter enters the room, a wide smile on his face as he taps the end of his pan on his notepad.

“Good evening to the best people I have ever met, and the people who I think play the avengers.” He stands at the head of the table opening up his notepad and clicking his pen open. “So I’m Zak and I'm gonna be here all night making sure y’all are fed, watered and entertained. So first with the children, I see you two have adult menus. Are you sure you don’t want a child’s menu?”

“Hey! I’m 25, and so is she.” Tom points to me and I scoff with a smile, hitting his hand away from me.

“Okay so two children, got it. So y’all okay with having a big meal now?” He smiles cheekily between me and Tom, clicking his pen a few times. 

“See this guy gets it!” Mackie appears from what you assume is the bathroom taking his place at the head of the table, high fiving Chris and Seb as they both laugh at you and Tom. 

“Yeah, they will have dino nuggies, fries with some peas. And do you guys want juice or water?” Seb leans forward to ask you two.

“But I don't like peas.” You pout crossing your arms, giving in and acting like a child.

“Oh but the dino nuggies get a yes?” Chris raises his brows laughing as you give him the middle finger sticking your tongue out at him.

“I’m the same, no peas, and I would prefer a soda please uncles.” Tom smiles childishly as he clasps his hands together batting his eyelashes at Mackie, Seb and Chris.

“Darn get the kids whatever they want. I feel like spoiling them tonight.” You and Tom high five as Mackie gives in, earning a gentle shove to his shoulders from the other two. 

“So do y’all two actually want dino nuggets and fries. No peas and soda?” Zak raises his brows, clicking his pen a few times holding it up to his notepad.

“Yes please!” You and Tom say at the same time with wide smiles and nodding your heads enthusiastically.

“Well, I will put a word in with the chef and make it an adult meal. So lots of dino nuggies and lots of fries.” You and Tom nod as Zak writes it down with a chuckle and shaking his head with a smile.

“Really?” You and Tom look at Seb simply nodding with matching smiles.

“Literal children.” Chris mumbles with a chuckle.

“So what can I get for the rest of y’all?” Zak looks to the rest of the group.

It takes a while to get around the table, you are still skimming the drink menu, wanting alcohol as well as a soda, as Zak gets around to Lizzie and Robbie. You turn your head to look and Scarlett and she is already looking at you with a fuzzy smile and you easily match it. You lean across to be able to whisper in her ear. 

“So I’m pretty sure when you only drink water or soda someone might question it since you love your alcohol. So what do you want to do?” Scarlett hums her hand holding yours and bringing it into her lap as her finger runs along your wedding band.

“I think we just see how it goes. If someone questions it then I don’t want to hide it. But if it doesn’t get brought up we can tell them at the end of the night.” You nod in agreement, a kiss on her cheek sealing the deal silently before a tap on your shoulder brings you back to the real world.

“Sorry.” You look to Lizzie who just points at Zak and you give him an apologetic smile but he just waves you off.

“So what can I get the lovely Mrs Johanssons, no offence to anyone but Black Widow is my favourite and Y/n seems cool.”

“Seems cool? Dude, come on, you love me.” You hold out your arms and Zak shakes his head finally giving in and moving to hug you before moving to hug Scarlett and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Lovely to see you two ladies again. Can’t believe it's been, what, like, 5 years now?” Scarlett moves her hand to brush through Zak’s hair neatening it out from the hug with a nod. 

“Yeah, five years roughly.” Scarlett replies before the three of you look around the table to see everyone with questioning looks waiting for a quick answer. “We came here on our first date and Zak was our waiter. Well is our waiter, everytime we come here he serves us. Which reminds me, Zak, who's the new guy?”

“Oh you mean the guy who looks like the Captain America wannabe, but all he can really do is eat protein powder, go to the gym and think he is cool. I am a big dumb dumb named Chad, I have muscles, everyone loves me.” Zak says in a caveman-like voice making everyone around the table laugh.

“That’s the one. You can add homophobic to the list of things, alongside, obnoxious stereotypical white boy.” I deadpan and Zak snorts out a laugh as I see the rest of the cast with their jaws dropped. “Sorry, I mean. Wow what a lovely young man. He is going to go so far in life.”

“Girl, I know!” Zak places his hand on my shoulder laughing “Now are you just gonna get your usual Scarlett.”

“Yes please, but I will take water please.” Scarlett hands our menus to Zak, his eyes flickering between the two of us before smiling with a nod.

“Of course. The drinks should be up shortly. If you need anything don’t be scared to come and grab me or there is a small pager thing here if you don’t want to leave the room.” He hands me an object that looks more like a bell, pressing it and a small pager on Zak’s apron goes off.

“See easy.” As Zak goes to leave I press the button the noise of the pager makes him jump, he doesn’t even turn around but as he walks out he sticks his middle finger up and sticks it through the gap in the door before quickly retracting it and disappearing.

♤♡◇♧

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you got a promotion.” Scarlett hits your arm and you laugh rubbing your arm.

“Ooooow.” You get hit from behind and turn around to glare at Lizzie who just shrugs.

“What did we tell Robert earlier?” Robbie says smugly and you roll your eyes, but chuckle when you hear Lizzie’s hand make contact with his arm.

“Ow.” He mumbles under his breath earning him another slap and you can only think it was inappropriate.

“Well I had other things on my mind.” You shrug, subtly sliding your hand under Scarlett’s shirt, your hand on her abdomen, your thumb rubbing small circles. “It just didn’t seem important. I mean so I got a new title and am getting a bit more money. No biggie, just how jobs work.”

“But it is a big deal. You got promoted.” Gwyneth points out taking a bite of her food.

“I get a promotion every year, nothing new.” You shrug, taking a sip from your drink and filling Scarlett’s water back up with the jug left on the table. 

“Wait, you ‘ve been promoted every year? Baby what do you do now? I thought you worked in the IT department, but more for building the company than fixing computers. That was 4 years ago.” Scarlett turns in her chair and you smile shyly, taking a big gulp of liquid courage and looking around the room to see all eyes on you.

“Uhm, well, so you know how I was working on the whole data analysis and IT infrastructure of the company with the CTO?” 

“Yeah, but you said there was a team of you.” Scarlett eyes you suspiciously as you give her a shy smile.

“Well it was a lie. There was no team. It was just me and the CTO, that’s also why I went to England. I needed to talk to some investors and get them on board with possible changes.”

“Okay.” She drags out sitting up more tapping her fingers on her glass raising her brow at you and you see everyone turn to start their own conversations but catch them glancing back at you every now and again. 

“Well the CTO was preparing me. He was retiring, is retiring.” 

“So what does that mean for you?” You let out a small sigh, rubbing your brows, taking another gulp of your drink.

“Well I’m now the CTO.” Scarlett’s eyes go wide, her mouth opening and closing before her hand moves to rest on yours that's stilled on her abdomen.

“And what does that mean for us?” You bring your free hand up to cup her cheek kissing the tip of her nose.

“Well when I was being asked to take the promotion I made sure of one thing.”

“And what was that?”

“I can work from home 3 or 4 days a week, I can go remote.” Scarlett smiles widely.

“I see.” Scarlett hums and you curl your brow in question and she stands up, a little shakily and you put your arm out to steady her and she brushes it off as she leans on the table. “Just got up too quickly, I'm good.”

You nod, not believing her as she gets up slower than anything and your brows scrunch when she rubs her finger against her temple shaking her head a little closing her eyes for a second. She plasters on a smile as she opens her eyes, clearing her throat which manages to gain everyone’s attention and she lifts her glass of water off the table. 

“Everyone. Even though this is a small cast gathering since everyone else is off doing their respective projects. But we will be seeing everyone next month for a marvel reunion. Anyway, not why I wanted your attention though. So because my adoring wife is stubborn and doesn’t tell me things I have only just learned this information myself. So can we all raise a glass to my wife. For her promotion from tech wizz to CTO.” Everyone stands raising their glasses with a cheer and you slouch in your chair covering your face with your hands to hide your embarrassment. 

“Congratulations!” They all cheer and you squeal as you are pulled out of your chair by a pair of muscled arms, and you squirm to get away as you hear Chris shouting for everyone to join.

Of course they do. You get squished in the middle of the group hug as everyone continues to give their congratulations before Scarlett starts to bat them away telling them not to kill you. When Chris finally lets go of you ruffling your hair, earning him a smack on the arm from you, Scarlett wraps her arms around your neck pulling you into a loving hug as she hides her face into your neck. Your arms wrap around her waist and you place a few gentle kisses on her temple, ever so slightly swaying the both of you side to side ignoring the eyes you can feel on you as you smile when you feel Scarlett kiss your neck a few times. 

“Okay enough of the PDA for today.” Mackie and Seb pull you apart before wrapping their arms around your shoulders, one standing either side of you, and hitting your chest with the other.

“What is it with people hitting me today?” You question as you hit them back and gently shove them off you one at a time.

“And me!” Robert gestures to himself. “It’s not fair. We are being bullied.”

“We are. So rude.” You scoff as Mackie grabs a breadstick from the table, standing between you and Scarlett before holding it up in front of you, You eyes squinting and watching him carefully as you see Seb go and sit back down.

“I don’t have a cupcake but I have a breadstick. Here have a breadstick.” He offers it to you and you raise your brows smacking it out of his hand keeping eye contact with him as it flies from his fingers. 

“Hey!” You both turn to look at little Tom who is holding up his glass with the breadstick in it. “My drink.”

“Oh no, the poor childs drink.” You roll your eyes shoving mackie away with a laugh as he holds up his hand and goes back to his seat.You turn to look at Scarlett, who is still on her feet, and she has her hand on the back of her chair shaking her head lightly. 

“Are you okay darling?” You smile softly as Tom, the other older Tom stands from his chair placing his hand on the small of Scarlett’s back, his other hand grabbing her glass of water for her. The rest of the cast take a quick glance but not wanting to intrude go back to their own conversations. 

You grab her hands as she squeezes her eyes shut again, as she stumbles a little and Tom's hand stays on her sides to stop her movements as yours go to her waist, your brows scrunching with concern. Lizzie and Robbie are also on their feet, Lizzie by Scarlett’s side, her hands brushing some of Scarlett’s hair out of her face. You watch as Robbie grabs a few napkins from the table, dipping them in the jug of water and gently dabbing them over Scarlett’s forehead and neck as you finally take in her flushed skin with a small layer of sweat. 

“Are you okay my love?” Your hands move to cup her cheeks as her eyes flutter open giving you a small nod and smile. 

“Just light headed. Baby.” You get her subtle hint placing your hand on her abdomen, your hand rubbing gentle circles making it look as if you are just helping soothe her and not helping put her mind at ease. 

“Okay?” She knows you're asking if she has any pain or anything as you rub your hands along her abdomen and she shakes her head letting out a relieved sigh.

“No, all good.” 

“You sure?” Tom keeps his hands on Scarlett's sides as he leans around to look at her and she places her hand on his with a smile. 

“I’m good. Just need to sit down.” Scarlett, with the help of you, Lizzie and Tom, slowly sits back down in her seat taking her drink as she looks to the three of you. “Overkill much?”

“We just want to make sure you’re both okay.” You say not even thinking about it, Scarlett not noticing either.

“Both of you?” Lizzie’s voice is quiet and you and Scarlett quickly look at her as her brows scrunch and she looks up at Scarlett with tears in her eyes. “Both of you?” 

“Oh, uh, uhm. Yeah. Both of us.” Scarlett whispers her hand moving to her abdomen, yours never having stopped rubbing circles on it.

“Woah.” Lizzie uses the back of her hand to wipe away a few tears as she looks at Robbie. “Did you hear that babe?”

“I did. Congratulations, you two.” Robbie stands back up, rubbing his hand up and down Lizzie's back and you smile when Tom pecks Scarlett’s temple. 

“Congratulations darlings.” Tom squeezes Scarlett's shoulders before sitting back down in his seat.

“I’m going to be an aunt.” Lizzie’s voice wavers slightly as she takes it all in.

“How does god parents sound?” Lizzie and Robbie turn to look at you, Robbie now with his own tears. 

“You want me to be the godfather?”

“Of course we do.” You smile when you see him shed a tear, his hand resting on Lizzie’s shoulder as her hand moves to hold his.

“Hey what’s going on here?” Robert leans across the table and the rest of the cast turn their full attention to you.

“Well we have some news.” Scarlett turns to look at the rest of the cast as Lizzie and Robbie stand up either side of you as your hands rest on Scarlett’s shoulders. “We’re gonna have a baby.” 

“Oh my god!” Gwyneth stands from her seat as the others take in the news, by the time it registers with the others she is around your side of the table hugging you both. “This is amazing!”

“Congratulations you two.” Robert tips his imaginary hat towards you and you grab your glass and lift it up in reply, like he had done earlier.

“What’s happening? I can’t hear a thing down this end of the table.” You all laugh looking down at Mackie who is currently being bullied by the other two boys as they throw napkins and breadsticks at him. 

“They’re having a baby.” The whole table shouts and Mackie stands up so quickly his chair falls to the floor with a crash, Seb and Chris with open mouths stare at the two of you.

“Holy shit!” 

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Seven: We Are The Pariahs

The Pariahs That Saved The World

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: vecna's curse, mentions of death, mentions of homophobia, bad father-daughter relationship (story of my life)

[A/N: omg she made it out of her writers block era!!!! I am so so sorry for the long wait on this chapter, I had planned to write it ages ago but felt myself losing part of my creativity (it's a very long story about the trials and tribulations of an arts uni student) but I am trying to make it up to you all by bringing you the most packed chapter yet! And totally not because I was rushing to get to write my favourite part of the series, okay bye]

We Are The Pariahs

You never thought you’d see this room again.

Soft pink walls, almost entirely covered in movie posters and band memorabilia, a fluffy carpet that felt like home beneath your feet. But it wasn’t the room that made your heart beat faster. It was the girl sat on the bed, mascara tears coating her cheeks.

“Heather?” Your voice was small, scared to spook her.

“Y/n? Is that you?”

Her broken voice almost made you run to her, swoop her in your arms, tell her everything was fine.

No, she isn’t real. Y/n… none of this is real.

You were supposed to be stood in the Upside Down, searching for a way out. You had been calling out for Dustin, you saw… you saw something. What did you see?

“Why weren’t you there?”

Heather’s eyes turn dark, her voice dropping to an abnormal pitch. A jolt of fear from your chest settles into a pit of despair in your stomach.

Vecna. You had seen Vecna.

“You… you could have saved me…” Heather’s cheeks were wet with tears, her mascara slithering down her face likes vines. “You weren’t there.”

No mater how hard you tried, no words escaped the lump in your throat. After all, was anything you could say going to stop Vecna?

“I will always hate you for what you did.”

A sob breaks free from your lips, and a smirk etches onto her face, a face slowly peeling away until all that was left was a red and raw face of horror.

“You never let yourself trust your own gut,” Vecna stands from Heather’s bed, creeping closer as you press yourself further into the wall, “Y/n… always the follower…”

“What do you want?” You manage to whisper, turning your face away as his claws begin to rise above you.

“I am giving you one last chance to finally save someone,” He spits, milky white eyes examining yours, “I want you to warn them all, show them…”

His rotten breath fans against your face and you cry, feeling your head tilt back under his control. He leans impossibly closer, seething venomous words into your ear.

“Tell Eleven… or your soul will be next.”

A silent scream leaves you paralysed, eyes wide as something hot pierces your mind.

Flashing images, displays of terror and destruction. You saw your friends, your family, all burning. Hawkins was crumbling, a giant monster with a gaping mouth breaching through the gates. Chaos flew in wisps of ash and fire until there was nothing but total and complete darkness.

“Tell them…”

“Where is it?!”

Robin could hear Steve and Nancy upstairs rummaging through her bedroom drawers for a hope of a Walkman or even that stupid music box, anything. The longer they took, the paler Robin felt. She was stood in front of you, yelling into your ears, trying to shake you awake from your deathly still posture.

“It’s not gonna work!” Eddie stresses behind her for the millionth time, a higher level of panic detected in his voice with each announcement. “Chrissy didn’t- oh my god, she’s gonna end up like Chrissy. My best friend is gonna-”

“Eddie!” Robin snaps at him, his eyes widening in shock. “We are all fucking terrified right now but I need you to get a grip! STEVE! WHERE’S THE MUSIC?!”

“WE’RE WORKING ON IT!” He yells back, matching her own panicked tone, and Robin could almost throw up.

She knew exactly what was going to happen the moment she saw your face drop, the strike of fear on your features as you stared into your reflection. She already anticipated your shoulders to drop and your eyes to roll back. She just didn’t make it to you in time.

“Please, please, please.” Robin begs you, her throat tightening with every flutter of your eyelids.

A choked gasp shouldn’t have been the sweetest sound Robin thinks she’ll ever hear, but once it escaped your lips, relief washes over her like the tide.

You stumble forward and she only just manages to catch you, Eddie already lunging across the room to help. They both lower you to the floor, allow you to sit as you try and catch your breath.

“You’re okay. You’re okay, we got you.” Eddie kept saying, your wild eyes darting around the room like you were afraid of the shadows, clinging onto his arm.

And Robin just sat there, staring at you, trapped in her own fear of the torment she shouldn’t have been feeling. It felt even worse knowing she had anticipated it all.

“What happened?” She finally asks when your breathing is steadier, watching as a pained expression is woven into your features before disappearing in a flash, shaking your head.

“He… he was warning me. Us. Told us to stop.” You nod feverishly, enough to spark curiosity.

But before Robin could question any further, two sets of footsteps come barrelling down the staircase.

“We got it! We got it- it’s right here!” Steve stumbles over his own words, panting for breath as he holds a Walkman in his hand, presenting it to the ceiling like a trophy. Robin blinks.

“You’re only like 5 minutes late.” She rolls her eyes and Steve looks exasperated, a sigh of relief exhaling from his lungs when he notices you sat there.

“Oh, thank god.” He runs a hand through his hair, laughing nervously. “We couldn’t find any music.”

“You couldn’t-” Robin frowns, shaking her head at him. “Then what the hell were we meant to do with that thing?”

“Improvise?” Steve offers and Nancy clears her throat.

“Sorry.” She surrenders, looking at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod, attempting a smile but it didn’t settle right on your lips. “Just… just another threat.”

And with yet another lie, they all seemed satisfied enough to continue their mission; contact Dustin. To which they were successful, using light as communication that you usually would find yourself fascinated with. But the entire time you sat there as the others smiled, you couldn’t block out his voice.

“Tell Eleven… or your soul will be next.”

“You and Wayne really aren’t keeping up on the housecleaning.” You comment, and Robin lets out a snort behind you.

Eddie’s trailer was much like the rest of the eerily familiar homes in the Upside Down; dark and filthy. Vines were pretty much scattered across the furniture, almost swallowing the trailer itself whole. But that wasn’t the concerning part.

If you had to pick just one thing to be scared of, it would be the gaping hole in the ceiling.

“This is where Chrissy died.” Eddie says, gulping as you all stared at the thrumming crimson light. “Like, right where she died.”

And just like that, you were now even more terrified.

“Could this day get worse?” You mutter, and you wish you had kept your mouth shut.

“I think there’s something in there.” Robin announces and you all squint upwards, taken aback by a shadow moving against the membrane.

A few slow seconds ticked by, and you wondered if it was just a trick of the light.

Something suddenly pierces through, pieces of the small gate splattering to the ground and you all leap backwards, heart hammering in your ears.

Steve moves first, cautiously peering up before a smile starts to stretch his cheeks. Curious, everyone else follows suit, and you’ve never felt so relieved in your life.

“Hi there.” Dustin laughs in glee as Max, Lucas, and Erica, all wave up to you.

The first face you see as you grin is Robin’s, meeting her hopeful eyes and happy smile with those of your own. In the moment, you reach out your hand as squeeze hers without thinking. You didn’t even notice her grip your hand tighter. You also didn’t remember letting go. Because you never did.

“Holy shit, this is trippy.” Robin laughs, and you can only nod in agreement, looking through the gate as if you truly were Upside Down.

“Bada-bada-boom!” Dustin yells, and you all instinctively laugh.

In a hushed mutter of agreements, the kids start to build the exit plan, dispersing across the trailer. Robin gently tugs on your hand and you look at her inquisitively, her head motioning for you both to step to the side.

“What’s up?” You whisper, unsure of why she wanted to talk in private. If anything, you could only hope why she wanted to talk privately, but that was wishful thinking considering you both barely knew eachother and it probably wouldn’t work because who knows if she’s-

“Did you… did you see something?” She asks and you frown. “Earlier. When Vecna… is there something you’re not telling us?”

“No.” Your response was too quick and her face drops into a serious tone, her hand slipping away from yours and you’ve never thought your hand could feel heavier without the weight. “Robin-”

“You can’t keep secrets, Y/n.” She says and you shut your mouth. “There’s already been so much-”

She takes a breath, eyeing the others as they all appear to be fixated on the events above them.

“You went to the Creel House and never told us about it.” She reminds you, a soft frown marking two small lines between her brows. “You heard Vecna, and you didn’t think that would be important to know. And now you’re having these visions and you’re not telling us the whole story with that, either. Why?”

“It’s…” You begin, but your shoulders slump with exhaustion. She was right. Why are you trying everything to hide it? “He showed me something. Something horrible. About our future, Hawkins. He threatened me, but I- I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think terrifying everyone else was going to get us anywhere.”

“What did you see?”

“Monsters. Gates.” You gulp, the next word barely audible. “Death.”

“Shit.” Robin blinks, tightening her lips. “Yeah, that’s… that’s pretty terrifying.”

“We need to focus on Max.” You say, glancing over your shoulder to where they were testing out a rope. “We can’t… we can’t help her, or anyone else for that matter, if we’re too focused on the bad ending. And from what I saw…”

“What?” Robin frowns when you don’t speak.

“I don’t think it’s something we can fight.” You admit just as Steve yells out for you both.

“Come on, operation get the hell out of here is commencing. Move it.”

Steve guides Robin by her shoulder, making her frown in confusion. He points to the rope.

“What do you want me to do with that?”

“Climb it.” Steve says, like it was obvious.

“Seriously?” She cranes her neck to look up at it, an encouraging thumbs up from Dustin on the other side. She looks around to see no-one else is volunteering. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.”

She manages to catch your eye before reaching for the rope, unspoken words floating between you both as she focuses on her climb, ignoring the burn on her palms as she mustered up enough strength to reach the top.

The strangest feeling washes over her as her head passes through the gate, blood rushing to her face. She was upside down now, holding onto the rope.

And then she was falling, landing on a mattress with a soft thump, staring up at the ceiling of familiar faces.

“That was fun.” She announces as she accepts Dustin’s hand, pulling herself to her feet.

“Who’s next?” Nancy asks, and after that, everyone started to make their way to the other side.

Eddie landed first, grinning at everyone with a casual “That was fun.”

You passed through the gate next, smiling at Robin as she offers her hand and ignoring the unsettling feeling in your stomach as you stared back up at the gate, waiting.

Nancy readies herself on the rope, obviously affected by Steve’s nature to always be the last.

She didn’t climb.

“Nancy?” You’re the first to speak, stepping on top of the mattress to get a better look.

And then Steve was trying to shake her awake while the others searched in panic for music she would listen to. But you didn’t move.

You refused Vecna’s threat, and all of a sudden Nancy was now cursed? It didn’t feel like a coincidence.

It felt like your fault.

Nancy had snapped awake after a painfully chaotic chorus of panic, her wide eyes of horror speaking more to you than it would anyone else. You were relieved to know she wasn’t cursed, just another messenger for the dark wizard. You were in fear of knowing Vecna didn’t tolerate insubordination.

The things she had told everyone made Robin feel too sober, her back resting against a cabinet on the floor while they had all sat in silence, Nancy’s voice thick with tears.

Vecna wanted revenge, and that meant Hawkins was on his kill-list.

Robin couldn’t help glancing your way when Nancy started describing the details of your own vision, but your eyes were fixated on the carpet. She hadn’t known you for long, but she didn’t think you were ever this quiet.

“Four chimes.” Max suddenly says, cutting through the tense air. “Vecna’s clock. It always chimes four times. Four exactly.”

“I heard them too.” Nancy agrees shakily.

“He’s been telling us his plan this whole time.” Max realises, and Robin feels very sick.

“Four kills.” Lucas understands. “Four gates... End of the world.”

“If that’s true…” Dustin speaks, looking at Max, “He’s only one kill away.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Eddie mutters, rubbing his face, “Jesus Christ.”

“Try ‘em again.” Steve orders to no one in particular, pointing to the phone, “Try them again.”

Max nods and grabs the receiver to dial the number they had been trying for the past few minutes. You had hoped the Byers would be able to help, that El would come back and help you win this. But no one ever answered.

“What do we do now?”

Your voice was a surprise to everyone having been the only person unable to share your own input to Nancy’s visions. Your throat felt hoarse, and there was a pounding headache forming behind your eyes. It was all starting to feel hopeless.

“We’re going back to the Upside Down and we’re killing Vecna.” Nancy announces and Robin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Hold on, wait, let’s think this through.” Steve objects, standing from the couch.

“What is there to think through?” She countered, crossing her arms.

“We barely made it out of there in one piece!” Steve stresses and you watch as they argue, unsure of who’s side to take.

“Because we weren’t prepared!” Nancy replies. “But this time, we will be. We’ll get weapons and protection. We’ll go through the gate, we’ll find his lair, and we’ll kill him.”

“Or he’ll kill us.” Steve says and across the room, Robin raises her eyebrows at you. “The only reason you survived is because he wanted you to. He’s not scared of us.”

“And for good reason.” Robin interrupts, standing up and clearing her throat, “We were wrong about Vecna. Henry. One. Sorry, what are we calling him now?”

“One.”

“Vecna.”

“Henry.”

“Right.” Robin breathes out, continuing. “We’ve learned something new about Vecna/Henry/One. He’s a number like Eleven, only a sick, evil, male, child-murdering version of her with really bad skin.”

“Ew.” Erica turns up her nose.

“But, my-my… my point is, he’s super powerful. He could turn us inside out with a snap of his fingers. It’s not a fair fight.”

“Then why fight fair?” Dustin intercepts and you turn around to look at him. “You’re right. He’s like Eleven. But that gives us an upper hand. We know Eleven’s strengths. And weaknesses.”

“What weaknesses?” You question with little effort, and Robin can’t help but feel a little upset at how hopeless you sound.

“When El remote-travels, she goes into this sort of trance-like state. I bet the same is true of Vecna.” Dustin explains.

“That would explain what he was doing in that attic.” Lucas comments.

“Exactly.” Dustin nods. “When he attacks his next victim, I’ll bet you he’s back in that attic, physical body defenceless.”

“Defenceless?” Steve raises his brows, gesturing to his bruised neck. “What about the army of bats?”

“True. We’ll have to find a way past them.” Dustin accepts, “Distract them somehow.”

“And, uh,” Eddie leans forward, “How do we do that exactly?”

“No idea. But once they’re gone, he doesn’t stand a chance.” He smiles, “It’ll be like slaying sleeping Dracula in his coffin.”

“That all sound good in theory, but there is no pattern to Vecna’s killings. I mean, at least not one that I can decipher.” Robin says, “We don’t know when he’s going to attack next. We don’t even know who he’s going to attack.”

“Yeah, we do.” Max speaks up and your stomach drops. “I can still feel him. I’m still marked. Cursed. I ditch Kate Bush, I draw his focus back to me.”

“What?” Your head whips up, frowning.

“Max. You can’t. He’ll kill you.” Lucas whispers out and she shrugs.

“I survived before.” She reminds him and Lucas frowns. “I can survive again.”

“How?” Robin observes the way you stare up at Max with a look of remorse. You really cared about these kids, about her. It’s why you were here in the first place. You could have flown back to Stanford, but you chose to stay.

Which is why the thought of Max sacrificing herself after all of this felt so absurd.

“I just need to keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic.” She says, slowly nodding. “Then you can chop his head off. Stab him in the heart. Or blow him up with some explosive Dustin cooks up, I honestly- I don’t care how you put this asshole in his grave, just… whatever it is… whatever you do… try not to miss.”

It sounded like her closing statement, an invisible signed document of her stubbornness. Nothing you could say would change her mind, and you knew she was right. This was the only way.

“Now all we need is a shit ton of weapons.” You sigh, spreading your hands in exasperation.

“Where the hell are we gonna get that?” Steve frowns, exchanging a look with Robin. “Doubt Officer Friendly is gonna let us raid the station.”

“No need.” Eddie suddenly stands, stretching his arms. “I know exactly where we can find them.”

Everyone frowns, some in confusion, some in concern. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t say War Zo-” You start, but Eddie doesn’t let you finish.

“War Zone!”

War Zone was pretty much how you assumed a store named that would look. It was a giant warehouse filled with aisles and aisles of anything you could possibly get your hands on. Guns, ammo, grenades, knives. All you could ever need for battle.

It was just a shame the only two excited for this trip had to be hidden from the public. You thought it was ironic that you were trying to avoid suspicion just after stealing a whole Winnebago.

“Hey!” Dustin protests as Steve sits him back down at the table, shaking his head.

“Sorry, man. It’s too risky.” He explains, but the curly-haired boy just pouts.

“Hellfire stays inside.” Nancy announces and despite Eddie’s look of disappointment, he didn’t kick up a fuss. He could look at guns another day, when there was no longer a price on his head.

“Okay, time for some… shopping.” Robin shrugs as Max jumps out of the RV behind you, slamming the door shut. “Are we, uh, looking for anything in particular?”

“Anything that looks like it’s gonna hurt.” You say, surprising the others. None of them object.

Swarms of mostly bulky men were walking down the aisles when you all entered, seemingly curious yet unbothered by your little group. You all definitely looked out of place.

“Uh… we should also probably look out for clothes.” You suggest, gesturing to Steve’s stark outfit. Your own was covered in black slime and dirt, much like Nancy and Robin’s.

“Good idea.” Steve says as he makes a beeline for the clothing department.

“I’m gonna head over to the guns. I’ve got an idea of what I want.” Nancy nods and Max takes Erica with her to the smaller section of knives and bug repellent.

“What do we think?” Robin asks with a lighter tone, posing with a beret on her head.

“You know what, it actually suits you.” You laugh and she flashes you a smile, throwing it into the shopping cart.

She begins to peruse the jewellery section next, making you chuckle in amusement as you spot Steve trying on a jacket further down.

It had been a while since either of you talked. After your vision in the Upside Down, you could tell he was walking on eggshells around you, much unlike your usual banter. Now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had an honest conversation with you.

“So, weird question, but, um… how are we meant to be paying for this?” You question as you walk over to him, a surprised look on his face as he glances over at Robin. She seemed to be preoccupied by the studded belt in her hands.

“I’ve still got my whole compensation fund from Starcourt we could-”

He stops once he says it. Starcourt. He saw how your face drops without permission, giving him a small glimpse of the sadness that wore away inside you.

“I, uh… we could use my savings money.” You offer, trying anything to pretend like your momentary lapse of weakness didn’t happen. “I mean, it was meant for books and stuff back at Stanford but I feel like this is a much more important use for it considering the whole end of the world scenario we’ve found ourselves in.”

You attempt a laugh, but it came out with too little volume, and all too much air. You try to redirect your attention to the vest in front of you. It looked like tough leather, hopefully thick enough to add some protection to your frame.

“Sorry I’ve been such an asshole.”

The battle vest almost slipped from your hands as you turn to catch Steve’s eye. His expression was serious, an apologetic look pointed at you.

“Huh?” You frown, unsure when this sudden turn of conversation started.

“I haven’t really been grateful. To have you here with us, I mean. You literally dropped your life just to help us, and I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you. High school was years ago.”

“If it helps, I have also been an asshole, so…” You laugh and you manage to spark a smile on his face. “And of course I’m here. You are, too. I’m not the only one risking everything.”

You didn’t expect a genuine smile from Steve Harrington to ever be sent your way, but you found yourself smiling back. In so few words, it was like a war had been resolved between you. A long time coming, at that.

You watch as his gaze drifts to behind you, his brows furrowing.

“Uh… I’ll be right back.”

You turn to see him jog over to Robin, placing a hand on her back. From this distance, you could just see her standing there with a fallen expression, staring at something further down the aisle. You take two steps back, curiously searching for the source of her uncharacteristic torment, but you can’t see past the couple laughing together.

The guy was quite tall, someone you think you recognise from school. Dan, was it? He was smiling down at a girl not much younger than you, wearing a grin and ginger hair.

It took a second for the realisation to hit, and by then Steve and Robin had wondered back over to you, quickly explaining you all needed to leave before you were suddenly rushing back to the Winnebago, left to sit for a little while longer with your thoughts.

Why was Robin so upset about a random couple in the middle of War Zone?

Robin hadn’t expected to see Vickie anywhere, let alone a stupid illegal gun shop on the outskirts of Hawkins. It definitely caught her off-guard, and since she watched what little hope she maybe had left of dating suddenly kiss a man, it also felt right. After all, she was a pariah. That was all she was going to be.

“I don’t care.” She interrupts Steve’s attempt to rationalise the prior events, rambling about the impossibility of Vickie not liking women too.“And I don’t understand why you do either with everything that’s going on. Honestly, this feels like a perfect time for that little pull of the rug because… in the face of the world ending, the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low.”

A sigh leaves her lips just in time for her to catch a glance of you across the field. You were sat cross-legged on the grass, laughing as Eddie and Dustin play-fought with their new and improved battle shields. As she sat just outside the Winnebago, holding a funnel for the molotov cocktails they had ordered, she feels a smile tugging at her lips when she sees your grin, and then she shakes it away as fast as she can. Not fast enough for it to go unnoticed.

“Aren’t you always telling me about all the fish in the sea?” He smirks, waggling his eyebrows and she grimaces. She knows he’s only joking, trying to tease her a little bit. But he doesn’t realise it wasn’t a game to her.

“Ew, no, don’t be gross.”

“I just think you’d be perfect together-”

“Okay.” She quickly stands up, almost spilling the bottles. “I think we’re running out of alcohol. I’m gonna go find some more.”

“Why are you being weird?” He frowns as she starts walking away. “But- we have enough bottles here!”

You heard Steve’s shout across the field as Dustin starts making a joke about bats, turning your head to see Robin was quickly walking away from him and disappearing inside the Winnebago. You were twisting grass between your fingers, staring longingly at the trailer home door. You wanted to talk to her. You needed to.

Your legs moved before your brain could comprehend it, marching you across that field with determination. There was no more putting it off. You couldn’t spend your last moments before what could be the end of the world sat on the grass wondering what would have happened if you’d just had the courage to open up.

Robin managed to compose herself for a bit, running her hands down her face and catching a glimpse of herself on a small mirror. Her mascara had rubbed off a little around her eyes, her hair now dirty and wild from the whirlwind of their adventures. With a sigh, she grabs another box of bottles. She so badly wanted a shower. Or at least to just curl up in her bed and pretend like the world was going to be just fine if she fell asleep.

She knew any minute now Steve would come looking for her, demanding answers. He was right. She was acting weird. But how else were you meant to act when you were slowly coming to the realisation that you’d be alone forever? How could she pretend to be normal when she had to sit and watch everyone else fall in love when she couldn’t, or reconnect with their high school sweethearts while she mourned the feeling of never experiencing teenage love?

She wasn’t normal. Nothing in her life felt more real than that.

“Hey.” You suddenly announce yourself and Robin drops the box she was holding, cursing under her breath as she scrambles to collect it before she lost all composure. You wince. “Sorry.”

“No, you- it just-” Robin presses her lips together, sighing. “I didn’t expect to see anyone in here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” You grimace even harder, motioning to the door. “This was weird, I can go-”

“No!” She drops the box again, on the small table this time. “Uh… I mean, no. You don’t need to…”

There’s a moment of silence you really wished was comfortable, but even you couldn’t pretend it was anything other than awkward.

“Are you doing okay?” Robin blurts, unable to resist talking if it meant she didn’t have to stand there with her own thoughts for much longer. “With the whole, you know, being a Vecna prophet?”

“A prophet, huh?” You smirk, raising your eyebrow. “No, I’m, uh… I’m okay? I think. Just… god.”

You flop yourself down on the cushioned seats of the Winnebago, biting your lip.

“I should have done what he asked.” You admit, meeting her eyes as she slowly lowers herself to sit beside you. “Nancy is probably, I don’t know, traumatised now because I keep thinking making everything a secret is gonna solve everything. Like it ever has.”

“You were doing what you thought would protect us. That’s not a bad thing.” She shrugs, staring down at her hands. “You shouldn’t even have to be dealing with all of this in the first place.”

“No one would have guessed an evil mind wizard who lives in an alternate dimension would somehow use me to spread his villainous plans.” You chuckle, trying to find the humour in what had to be the scariest experience of your entire life.

“No.” She breathes an airy laugh, biting her lip. “But I made you come here.”

“What?” You looked taken-aback, blinking at her. “No, Robin… I’m here because I want to be.”

“But you hate Hawkins.” She says, twisting in the seat to face you so she could express herself with her hands more. “And I- I don’t blame you. You lost your father… you left for all good reasons. I shouldn’t have shown up at your door demanding help, it… I didn’t realise how badly it would affect you, or-”

“Robin.” You place a hand over hers and she stills, words cut from her mouth by a single touch. “I want to be here. What happened a year ago doesn’t define my actions now. It never did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t leave because my dad died.” Your voice had gotten quieter, and Robin watched as your eyes started to glisten. “I… I left because Heather did.”

Robin frowns. Heather? Nancy mentioned a Heather back in the library after your first encounter, stating the two of you had known eachother since sophmore year. It had only been a passing comment. Robin only remembered the Heather with a plaque at the school, a soul lost to ‘the fire’. Flayed, Robin realises.

“Heather… Heather Holloway?” Robin asks and you nod, wiping away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “Nancy told me you guys were friends.”

“Right. Friends.” You say almost bitterly, avoiding her eyes. Robin sends a quick glance to the door, making sure it was shut. She had a feeling this conversation wasn’t one you were going to be comfortable sharing with anyone else.

“Was Heather… was she more… more than a friend?” Robin’s mouth felt dry as she struggled with her words, hoping you didn’t return them with a laugh or disgust. And you didn’t. You only nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Back in the hospital, Starcourt… I had gone with Nancy and Jonathan to try and figure out what the hell was happening to Hawkins. Nancy told us it was related to Driscoll, that we had to hurry. I remember she wouldn’t tell me why she was so scared. But Jonathan let slip that they had been at Heather’s house…”

You take a deep breath, trying to relax your now tensing shoulders. “I kept asking them where Heather was, if they had seen her, if she was okay. I… I knew something was wrong. I hadn’t heard from her for a whole day, I even begged for their help when she went missing but they told me I was paranoid. But I was right in the end.”

“You were too late.” Robin whispers in realisation, and your glossy eyes find hers, nodding.

“Heather’s dad was at the hospital. So was mine.” You recall, twisting the corner of the cushion. “They were flayed, attacked us when we least expected it. My dad was telling me how Heather died, what they did. Right before he drove a knife into my shoulder.”

You gently push down the shoulder of your jumper to reveal a red scar, and Robin’s breath hitches.

“I don’t really remember much after that. Jonathan managed to get him off me. I think Nancy dragged me somewhere safe before a nurse found me.” You sigh, rolling your shoulder. “When I had woken up, my gran was the one to tell me about Starcourt, how my dad had died in the fire. And that Heather and her family had apparently burned in there too.”

“I’m so sorry.” Robin squeezes your hand, wiping away her own tears. She had wondered why Nancy and Steve seemed so hesitant about your story. Only now did she know it was because they couldn’t feel anything but guilt about how they treated you.

“Heather was my best friend, and more.” You smile before it broke, biting your lip, “I hated the thought of staying here. I was just so… angry. At the others. At myself. I had to leave.”

“I would have done the same.” Robin admits quietly. “To be honest… I don’t think I would have come back.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” You shrug, “But I needed to be here for my gran.”

“Does she…”

“Yeah. She knows about Heather and me.” You say, nodding. “I came out to my dad when I realised I liked Heather. He… he wasn’t happy about it. We fought a lot after that until my gran decided to take me in. She’s pretty great.”

“She sounds it.” Robin smiles.

“Being a girl into girls in a town like this…” You laugh, glancing out the window. “When I turned Steve down in sophmore year, I just remember the relentless torment from everyone around me. I didn’t even know I liked girls then, but I knew I was never going to say anything because if I refused a date with a guy and they all hated me for it, what would happen if I ended up dating a girl?”

“It was all so natural with Heather. She didn’t make me feel like a freak, or make me some kind of pariah. Because she understood me. And about a year after we became friends, after the whole Steve incident, we started dating.” You lean back into the seat, pouring your heart and soul to a girl you hoped you had met years ago. “Our dads worked together at the Post, and we had to keep it a secret. That’s why… that’s why everyone out there thought we were just friends. Because that’s what I told them.”

“No one out there would have judged you like that. Especially not Steve.” Robin insists and your face twists with uncertainty.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s my best friend.”

You knew that. You saw it anytime they bickered or teased one another. You saw it when Steve went rushing over to her the second he sensed her posture drop in War Zone, whispering reassuring words to her on the field after.

Part of you had assumed when you first saw them together that there was no way they couldn’t be dating. So many factors could be against why they weren’t. There was only one you were nervously hoping for.

“That girl… the one at War Zone. You looked really upset…” You bite your lip, heart beating harder. “Is that because…”

“I know exactly how you feel.” She meets your eyes and you almost melt, suppressing a smile.

“Is that why you started acting weird when you found out Eddie was my ex?” You ask and she frowns, obviously curious about that. “I dated him because I thought he was cool, and nice. We broke up because I realised I was gay.”

“Oh.” She laughs, feeling incredibly stupid. “God, I was so sure- I literally hate myself right now.”

“So… does that mean… if you liked that girl…” You struggle to find the words, scrambling your mind with endless possibilities to just ask the question.

“I like you.” Robin finally says in a whisper and you smile.

“I like you, too.”

Her eyes flicker to your lips for just a moment, until she catches something, a red trail starting to stain your upper lip.

It all came crashing down after that.

“Y/n?!”

Steve must have heard her screaming because when he comes rushing in, your eyes are already rolled back, Robin’s hands holding onto your shoulders.

You weren’t a prophet after all.

You were a warning.

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[parselmouthedmelinae]

Locker Room

Part 3 of my M!Hufflepuff Readerx Sebastian Sallow Smut

Part 1 Part 2

You are ever so excited to support your Slytherin during a game of Quidditch. Only problem is, it's Slytherin vs Hufflepuff and Lenora has some feelings about you being a turn cloak.

Sebastian makes you feel better.

M/M 18+ 4.6k TW: Mild Homophobia

You woke up easily, having had dreams of Sebastian most of the night, all of them being him kissing your knuckles, or looking down at you; all of them wonderful. You looked up at the ceiling of your dorm, the gentle sunlight streaming from the skylight waking you further. Noticing all of your dorm mates had already gone off to breakfast, you let yourself smile, thoughts racing to Sebastian once again despite yourself. 

He had really chosen you. Out of all the beautiful witches at Hogwarts, and even all the handsome wizards, he had chosen YOU. Your face becoming pink with happiness, you kicked your feet, letting out a soft sigh. Were you a bit lovesick? Perhaps. But it was also the happiest you had been since transferring to Hogwarts, and you were going to allow yourself to drink in all the warm emotions. 

After basking in the feeling of Sebastian's afterglow effect he always had on you, you finally got up and began to dress. Grabbing your favorite jumper and button down, you walked over to one of your dorm mate's desk, looking down at a large golden flag that read ‘Badgers Eat Snakes!’. You pulled on your trousers and let out a small gasp. 

It was the Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff quidditch game today. THAT'S what Sebastian had meant when he said ‘tomorrow’, he wanted you to go and watch him. You brought your hands to your face, which was warm and pink, a soft noise of happiness leaving you. 

The common room was full of happy, chittering Hufflepuffs, some of them patting the quidditch players on the backs as they left for breakfast, then would more than like head down to the pitch. Your eyes looked around and noticed all of the Hufflepuff pride flags, megaphones, and buttons. Not ever having been one to enjoy the sport that much, preferring to spend your free time reading or painting, you only smiled as your eyes landed on who you were searching for. 

“Good morning Poppy. Can I ask you a favor?” 

—————————

It was a very sunny November afternoon, not nearly as cold as it had been recently, which you were immensely grateful for. Pulling your jacket closer about your neck, you and Poppy found your way to the stands, looking down at the pitch excitedly. 

“At least he will be able to see us easier when we wave and cheer!” Poppy said happily, her green-dyed Badger on the scarf she wore about her neck flapping behind her as you walked. You looked down at your own scarf, a wide smile appearing at Poppy’s quick thinking. 

“I hope so! If not, this will have to do.” You said as you held up the moving emerald sign that read, ‘Slytherins Do Them In’, in bold silver letters. Poppy beamed at her handiwork as you both found seats in the very front of the Hufflepuff stands. 

As the stadium started to fill up, you saw Sebastian and the rest of his team walk out onto the field, having to squint from the sunlight bouncing off of the metal on the players' brooms. He looked up at you, and the brightest smile you have ever seen on his face lit up the field. You felt your heart swell and you waved animatedly, receiving a small wave in return as he had to return his focus on whatever the captain was saying. 

“Are you serious right now?” 

The voice behind you pulled you from your Sallow-filled euphoria, turning to see who the person was talking to. Lenora was standing there, fully dressed in gold and holding an obnoxious yellow megaphone. 

“I’m sorry?” You said softly, turning a bit more to look at her, now realizing it was you who she was talking to. 

“Didn’t realize you could switch houses this late. Why are you even on our side?” Lenora sneered, motioning to all of the other Hufflepuffs, most of whom were avoiding eye contact with the three of you, just wanting to watch the game in peace and not caring in the slightest. 

“Lenora I’m still in Hufflepuff I ju-“

“You do know they’re playing against YOUR house then, right? Don’t you have any pride? Slytherins always look down on us, and here you are supporting them.” Lenora's voice was getting louder, having to yell a bit to be heard over the announcer talking about the game that was happening before them. 

You had hardly even noticed the game had started, a slightly annoyed look finding your usually calm and quiet demeanor. 

“My friend is in Slytherin and I just wanted t-“ You started, Poppy’s small hand finding your shoulder in comfort. 

“Lenora, please stop, it's not that serious…” Adelaide said as she tugged on Lenora’s jacket, her round face pink with cold as she shot you an apologetic look. 

Lenora shook her hand away and glared at you. “Then go sit on the Slytherin side, they’re all a bunch of prats anyways.” 

Your anger flared, standing as you glared back at Lenora. “Shut up! No, they aren’t!” Poppy stood as well, but you hardly noticed, all of your attention on Lenora, your fists clenching at your sides. 

She stared at you and laughed. “You only think that because you follow that Sallow boy around like a lost puppy, you poof.”

Your heart sank, your anger immediately turning into anxiety as you shrank away from her. What if a rumor started going around that Sebastian was hanging out with… well, someone like you. What if he started getting called things, or getting looks in the hallways, or, Merlin forbid, he heard the rumors from a friend. 

Lost in your turmoil, you hardly had time to process that Poppy had shot past you, and Lenora was suddenly on the ground. You panicked, your hands going up to your mouth as you saw blood trailing from her nose. “Poppy!” You whispered into your hands. 

“Don’t EVER talk about him like that!” Poppy yelled, her small stature not hindering her ability to be intimidating in the slightest. Lenora quickly gathered herself off of the ground and wiped her nose, looking down at the red on her sleeve. In an instant, Lenora had grabbed for her wand, and so did Poppy. You grabbed Poppy's arms, holding her back, and almost hoisting her off the ground. She was a lot stronger than she looked as she struggled against your restraints.

Adelaide had barely wrapped her arms around Lenora quick enough to stop her, the surrounding Hufflepuffs were now scrambling to get away from the fight, one of them calling a professor over. 

The fight was quelled by Hufflepuff's head of house Professor Garlick, and both Lenora and Poppy were sent to Headmaster Black's office. You were left at the entrance to the pitch, watching them walk back to the castle with a pit in your stomach, your emerald-dyed scarf swirling about your frame from the wind. 

Slytherin had won the match shortly after the fight was over, and the two teams' captains were shaking hands now, the players getting ready to change. You turned back to the pitch, leaning against the rounded entrance, watching Sebastian talk to one of his teammates. You smiled, seeing his freckled face light up with laughter at a joke, getting patted on the back, his curls sticking to his face. He suddenly caught your gaze, and you looked down at your feet, embarrassed and slightly ashamed, not sure what to tell him. 

Suddenly, he was jogging over to you, broom still in hand, his uniform framing his waist perfectly. You mustered a smile for him and he looked at you curiously. 

“Hey… everything alright? You look a bit down-“ he looked at your attire and smiled again, however. “I like you in green.” Sebastian's lips curled at the corners and his cheeks flushed a bit, to your amazement. You looked down at the scarf and blushed as well. 

“I uhm… Poppy helped me dye them for the game. We weren’t able to get a hold of authentic ones before the match so we used a color-changing charm.” You said softly, dropping the scarf you were playing with and looking back up at Sebastian. 

“No need. You can have one of mine.” He said confidently, a wider smile on his face now, gorgeous as ever. You shrank away from the affection, worry filling you. Sebastian cocked his head to the side, his smile falling. “Puff, what’s wrong?” He asked, hand finding yours. 

You pulled away and looked around to see if anyone had seen, which it didn't seem they had, and you ran a hand through your hair. “Sebastian I need to tell you something…” you started, looking down at your feet again, your boots covered in dirt from Care of Magical Beasts and Herbology. Sebastian shuffled and grabbed at your jacket collar, making you look up at him. 

“Come on, I need to get changed. Walk and talk.” He said as he looked down at you, motioning towards the changing rooms. You sighed and shrugged, knowing he wouldn't listen otherwise. As the two of you walked, you noticed a large group of Slytherin players exiting the changing room, all brightly smiling and cheering in their normal clothing. One of them spotted Sebastian and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Let’s go Sallow! Party in the common rooms tonight, and make sure Gaunt doesn’t make a fuss about it, yeah?” 

Sebastian smiled back at them and nodded. “Yeah alright, let me get changed and I'll be right up.” He said as he tugged on his dirty uniform, the players shrugging and leaving the pitch, all of them apparently not even having noticed you at all. 

Entering the changing room, it was covered in emerald and silver drapings, bags, and uniforms scattered about haphazardly. You assumed house elves would come and clean up shortly, and shrugged it off. You leaned against a wall and waited for Sebastian to gather his clothing and go and change, but he didn’t. He sat down on a nearby bench and looked up at you, dirt on his nose. 

“Right then. What's wrong?” Sebastian asked quietly, his big brown eyes looking up at you with concern, and your stomach flipped. 

You brought your hands up to your face, rubbing it and sighing. “Sebastian… Poppy and Lenora got into a fight, and are in the Headmaster's office right now… all because of me.” You said pathetically, guilt washing over you. Sebastian stared up at you, a somewhat shocked expression on his face. “But, why?” He asked, a crease between his brow. 

“Lenora was mad about-“ You held up your scarf dramatically. “This. And a sign I had and just… she…” The words caught in your throat, even though you weren’t looking at Sebastian, you almost couldn’t bring yourself to say it. “I’m worried she’s going to start rumors about you, Sebastian.” You spit it out, your fists clenching. 

Sebastian looked even more confused when you finally caught his gaze again, his shoulders shrugging a bit. “About…?” He urged, motioning with his hand. 

You sighed in annoyance. “She called me a poof, Sebastian. Said I follow you around and… I don't think we should be seen together.” It broke your heart to even say, but you cared more about Sebastian's reputation than your own. People could say whatever they wanted about you, but never about him. You would make sure of it. 

Looking like you had just sprouted antlers, Sebastian's eyes were wide with shock, his face unreadable. 

“I… did she really say that?” He asked after a bout of silence. 

You just nodded, mind flashing back to the scene. You were incredibly grateful to have a friend as good as Poppy, knowing she would stick up for you like that made you warm inside; however, the fight only made your suspicions of Lenora going around telling everyone every mean thing about you that she could. Which didn’t bother you, but when it concerned him… you looked down at Sebastian, and the guilt consumed you again. 

“You don’t think I care about that, do you?” Sebastian said as he stood, looking down at you now. You looked up at him, stunned. “You… don’t?” The question came from your lips very quietly. 

“My uncle hates me already, and my best friend Ominis is also solely interested in Wizards… I have nothing to lose.” Sebastian caught both of your hands in his and brought them up to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. “Let the birds talk, let them chitter. Ominis is the biggest gossip of them all, he will put a stop to any bad rumors, I can promise you that.” 

The reassuring tone he was taking with you made your heart break, and the vulnerability he was showing made you feel like you weren’t able to take in enough oxygen. “But-“ 

Any protest you were going to put up was silenced by Sebastian’s lips, salty and grounding. He smelled like sunshine and grass, like outside, and it was more than welcome. He broke away from you then, his lips barely touching yours as he spoke. 

“If you want to keep this between us, I’m okay with that. But I want you. Only you.” He whispered, and your face caught a blaze. “We don’t have to be open with it, we can keep it between us.” He reiterated. 

“Between us.” You whispered back, and slung your arms around Sebastian’s neck, dragging him down a few inches to crash your lips against his. You felt Sebastian smile against the kiss as he slid his hands under your button-down and jumper, warm and rough. 

All thoughts of Lenora, Poppy, and rumors were extinguished from your mind as you felt his hands run over your stomach, their warmth radiating through you. A similar feeling to that morning washed over you, thoughts of Sebastian only wanting you leaving you breathless and love-struck. Not only was Sebastian the only wizard you had fallen this hard for, but he was also the only one to declare for you so openly, so intensely. Your head was spinning, and before you knew it, you were tugging at Sebastian's uniform, his shirt off and your fingertips running over his bare chest and back. 

You let your eyes linger on his frame for just a moment, freckles absolutely covering his torso. This was the first time you had seen him shirtless, the majority of them spilling over his shoulders and collarbones. You leaned down and placed a kiss on his right shoulder, then peppered them down to his collarbone, as if you were trying to count the freckles with your lips. Sebastian hummed pleasantly, his head tilting to allow you more space. 

“You're getting braver-“ He breathed into your ear, soft and low, his own hands tracing down your spine and receiving a shiver from you. Not answering, you bite down on Sebastian's collarbone, his taunting ceasing immediately and a half-concealed moan barely escaping his mouth. “Easy, ‘Puff.” He purred, but the way his hip jerked up to meet your thigh gave him away. You smiled against his chest, a flush of embarrassment and pride filling you before you bit again, all the way down until you were on your knees in front of him. 

As you looked up at him, you suddenly felt like you were going to puke again. Sebastian looked gorgeous, his chest rising and falling with lust-labored breaths, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. Your hands trailed up his thighs cautiously, as if you still needed permission; all the permission you needed was in the way Sebastian was looking at you, his lips parting in encouragement and brows upturned. 

“Please don't keep me waiting.” He whispered, hand finding the side of your face and tracing a thumb over your lips. “As much as I love looking at you like this, fuck-“Sebastian's voice cracked as you placed a kiss on him through his trousers, a jolt of arousal going straight to your core at the sound, so you did it again. And again. Sebastian's hand left the side of your face and found the back of your head, restraining himself from pushing you down with every fiber of his being. 

Finally unlacing and taking him out of his pants, you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, barely touching the tip of his cock. Sebastian clenched his jaw above you, big brown eyes dark with lust. You felt yourself twitch in your own trousers at the sight and knew there was nothing you wanted more than to make him satisfied. You ran your free hand that was previously gripping Sebastian's upper thigh through your hair, pushing it away from falling into your eyes and blocking your view of the gorgeous face above you. 

Sebastian's fingers laced their way into your hair, and you began to feel him tug lightly, obviously trying to restrain himself. 

“Is this your first time doing this?” He whispered, his freckled lips parted in pleasure as you sucked the tip of his cock, just barely taking the head fully into your mouth. You nodded, eyes locked on Sebastians. The movement of your head made the boy above you curse, his fingers clenching in your hair. “Could’ve fooled me.” He practically moaned, head falling back as he rocked his hips forward into your mouth. 

You were able to keep him from going too far back as your palms were on his thighs, but you knew you would have to give him more soon or he was like to start begging. That thought did not help the problem in your pants, the image of Sebastian's lust-filled face above you contorted into a begging plea made you shift, the lacing on your trousers becoming uncomfortable. 

After Sebastian's cock twitched in your mouth again, you decided to try and take the entire length, wanting to give him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you took him as far as you could. You gagged, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Sebastian let out a long groan of pleasure, and you froze. If you could hear that again, you would gladly let him gag you a few more times. 

And so, you did. Every time you leaned down and let him hit the back of your throat, Sebastian's thighs would shudder and the most intoxicating noises would fall from his lips. Because your eyes were filled with tears at this point, you didn't know if he was still looking at you, however, his fingers were now tugging at your hair rather forcefully, almost guiding your head down and holding it there. As you gagged around him once more, Sebastian held you there, his large hand pulling your hair hard now, and you tried your best to stay put. Thankfully, it seemed the Slytherin wanted you alive because he released you, air returning to you in a rush. 

Looking up at Sebastian with tears in your eyes, you could’ve came. He looked like something out of a dream, curls falling into his face, cheeks scarlet, and lips parted. Suddenly, you couldn’t stand it anymore, the feeling of need becoming too much to ignore. You stood, and the look on Sebastian's face almost made you smile, that is if you weren't so hard you couldn’t think properly. You brought your hands up to Sebastian’s chest, finding broad, freckle-covered shoulders, and gently guided him down in a sitting position to the bench directly behind him. 

“‘Puff, if you don't finish I think I-“

But you never got to hear what Sebastian thought, because as soon as he was sat, you quickly slid off your trousers and straddled him. “Merlin-“ he gasped, feeling your ass against his painfully hard cock being almost too much of a relief. You couldn’t help but smile, even if this was one of the boldest things you had ever done in your life. Not only were you straddling a boy, but you were also straddling a, very handsome, boy in a locker room, where anyone could walk in. The thought seemed to cross Sebastian’s mind as well, because his cock twitched against your ass, and yours against his stomach. 

Sebastian's hands found your hips, his thumbs tracing your hip bones as he absentmindedly rocked his own hips up, rutting against you. His cock, wet with your spit, made your mind go blank, wanting nothing else than to give him exactly what you knew he wanted. And so, you did. Reaching between your legs, you found him and positioned yourself above, eyes locked on Sebastian's brown ones. His face was entranced, looking at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted, he ever cared about; and when you finally pushed him inside, his head fell forward between your neck and shoulder, a low moan leaving him. 

“Fuck-“Sebastian's hands tightened on your hips, but you didn’t move. You were still getting used to the feeling of him filling you completely, his cock hitting the spot it did that night in the hidden Herbology corridor. Sebastian went to move, but your hands found the collar of his uniform, nonverbally telling him to wait. You wiggled down on him, pushing him even farther inside, a whimper escaping your lips. Not being able to obey your commands, Sebastian licked your neck and moved your hips with his hands, rocking you down on his cock. 

You let out a little cry of pleasure, the subtle size difference between you meaning he could easily pick you up if he so desired, including moving you on his cock with ease. “Fuck, Sebastian- please-“ you barely managed between gasps as he brought you down on his cock over, and over again. Each time hitting that spot deep within you that made your thighs shake. Your own cock was tapping against Sebastian's stomach every time you came down, and to your embarrassment, was starting to leak precum on his stomach. “Shit, Sebastian- im-“

But you didn't have the chance to apologize, Sebastian was abusing your neck again, to your absolute delight. You had grown to crave the feeling of his teeth in your flesh over your past two meetings, and this was no exception. Your mouth fell open as you leaned into the bite, and you must’ve squeezed around him because he hummed gratefully against your neck. 

He was relentless, and you didn't even have to move, Sebastian doing all the work for you. You let your arms drop around his neck as he pounded into you, your own cock rutting against the smooth skin of his torso with every jolt of his hips. You were starting to see stars, and before you could stop yourself, you came. Pleasure wracked through your entire body as you spilt all over his stomach, painting his freckled stomach white. Of course, that didn't stop him, and he continued to bring you down on his cock until you were whimpering, stuttering his name in broken praises and pleas. 

Suddenly, you felt his fingers tighten and his hips falter, a moan being breathed into your ear as he filled you. Your cock hardened at the feeling, and you did him the favor of rocking your own hips down on him as he rode out his high. Sebastian let out a hurried string of curses as you did so, almost stuttering as he said your name softly. Cum began to pool between his thighs, spilling out of you as he had finished. Finally bringing his face away from your neck, you were able to look down at him. 

Sebastian looked wrecked. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his eyebrows upturned, cheeks blazing. You couldn’t help but let yourself drink in the sight, relishing in the fact that you had brought him to this, that you had made him this way. He glanced down then, and so did you. To your embarrassment, you had become hard at the feeling of him cumming in you, and the sight of his face. You covered your face with your hands and laughed softly. “Sorry- it's fine, I'm good…” You whispered, but felt the tip of his finger graze against the tip. 

Letting out a soft gasp, you peeked out from the slits in your fingers and watched as he smeared the cum still leaking from your cock over the head with his thumb. You cursed, body shaking with overstimulation, but not daring to stop him. And he knew you wouldn't, because he just lazily started to move his fingers over you, slowly. So slowly it made you want to hit him, but instead, your mouth was open in a pathetic moan, your hips jerking up as his hand started to pump your cock. 

“Oh fuck- please, Merlin- please please-“ you started to beg, not realizing Sebastian was smirking until you completely removed your hands from your face and they found his hair. He looked up at you, shaking on top of him, eyes lidded and a satisfied grin on his lips. “You're so cute.” He whispered, and stopped stroking your cock, and instead drug his fingers over the tip again, causing you to break. 

Once again, you painted the already splattered freckles, your head tilting back as you restrained your moans as much as you could, which was not a lot. “Wow, twice.” He teased, and you could hear the smile still on his lips as you collapsed against his shoulder, your breathing labored and body shaking with the pleasure of him still inside of you and his fingers lingering. 

After a few minutes of you both catching your breath, you sat up and gently got off of him. Your legs shook as you stood, and Sebastian noticed, a wide smile appearing on his face again. “Hush.” You scolded, grabbing your trousers from the floor and tugging them on. “You're going to need your scarf too.” Sebastian said as he handed the green-dyed scarf to you, which had apparently fallen off sometime during your… activity. You wrapped it around your neck, the pleasant pain radiating from the area becoming a memory of Sebastian that, if you had it your way, would be there all the time. 

It didn't take long for Sebastian to change and soon after the two of you were back outside in the crisp November air. You shivered, having become used to the warmth of the locker room. 

“Are you going to come to the party with me tonight?” Sebastian asked as you left the pitch, the castle slowly growing closer. 

“Do you want me to?” You asked, remembering what had happened just an hour prior, your stomach tightening. “I’m not sure I should…”

Sebastian sighed, shaking his head. “Please?” He asked again. You felt your cheeks heat up, even after what had just happened, still feeling like a schoolgirl around him. 

“Well… alright.” You gave, not being able to deny Sallow anything, ever. And it seemed he knew that, because he smiled and wrapped an arm around you, to your dismay. “I thought you said we were going to keep this betw-“

“Yes, ‘Puff. Between us. I promise. No one is going to question me having an arm around my mate, alright? Calm down.” He reassured you, and you could’ve melted into his touch. 

“If you say so.”

“And I do. Trust me.” The authoritative tone he took made you believe every word he said, and as you entered the castle, you wondered what the Slytherin common room would look like that night, filled with people and full of celebration. 

[film-in-my-soul]

steddie - writer’s choice ❤️

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Writer's Choice - Different First Meetings + Modern/Canon Divergence AU (because I don't want to have the period typical homophobia)

.⋆｡°✩ Steve takes the kids to a local concert and manages to get himself front and center when Corroded Coffin takes the stage. ✩°｡⋆.

Steve is going to kill Dustin. And Lucas, too, for that matter. Max he thinks he can forgive, seeing as she's a full head shorter than most of them and out of all the kids (practically adults now, but if Steve thinks about that for too long he'll want to throw up... or cry), she's the one who'll make sure the rest of the buttheads currently scattered throughout the too dark, overly-crowded concert space don't get themselves into trouble. But the fact remains that Dustin had said he'd stick with Steve if they got closer to the stage, that no one else wanted to go with him, and "C'mon Steve! You want to leave me alone with a bunch of metalheads?" only for Dustin to abandon him!

If there's a saving grace, and it's a marginal one at that, Steve's managed to force himself to the front of the slightly raised platform between the bands changing over so he's far enough away from the mini moshpits that keep breaking out. But it also leaves him closer to the more fanatic audience members who aren't particularly mindful of where they're throwing their elbows, and even with his hearing aid turned off, they're loud, a low chant of "Coffin, Coffin, Coffin!" growing in urgency and volume.

Still, it feels safer to be able to crawl along the stage to escape if he needs to, and Steve can admit to himself that he's not having the worst time. That doesn't mean he's not sending Robin passive-aggressive texts every half hour, seeing as she'd tricked him into being the chaperone. He steadfastly ignores the replies where she calls him out, knowing he would have offered himself up anyway.

He's just about to send her another, maybe even send a selfie of his slowly deflating hair and scowl, when the lights dim almost to the point of total darkness.

There's an immediate hush, and then, when the strobes at the back of the stage flair up, imitating lightning, silhouetting figures that weren't there a moment before, the crowd explodes into a roar. It's almost so intense that Steve's bad ear rings. A fog machine hisses to life from somewhere off the right of the stage, and when a good layer of the smoke has started spilling over the lip of it, ghosting over Steve's knees, the rest of the lights come back on, a mix of neon red and flickering white.

There's a bass line kicking up to match the pattern of the blinks, and something about its low sound matching that visual cue and vibrating Steve from his feet to the top of his head easily fights through the screaming people buddying up to Steve and catches his attention in a not so unpleasant way. The drums follow, and it's effortless to connect the hard hits, higher in pitch and almost imperceptible to Steve's fucked hearing, with the nodding head of the musician responsible for it. And then, like a siren call, a distant wail, a guitar comes to life, and Steve's eyes follow the invisible wave of sound only to stop when-

Holy hell.

Right in front of him, only five feet away, with his leg propped up on a pedal and his wild mane of dark frizzy curls shaking with the rock of his body, is the most gorgeous guy Steve's ever seen.

It could be a trick of the mood lighting, or maybe just the combination of envy-worthy hair and wicked, electric smile, but Steve's pretty sure it's the whole damn package.

The guitarist's in a cut-off tank top, the edges of it tattered and the arms slit so low down his sides that Steve can see the curve of black ink crawling across his ribs. His pants are black and leather, like his boots, and each time he moves, picking out a new cord or riff, the flash of the silver jewelry adorning his fingers, chunky, eye-catching rings, is a beacon for Steve to track. He looks like some 80's hard rocker transported right into the twenty-first century with the sole mission to remind everyone why they included 'Sex' in the phrase 'Sex & Drugs & Rock 'n Roll' and from the way he moves, large and confident, throwing off winks and grins, he knows it.

Some of the girls around Steve sound like they're crying, sobbing out the name 'Eddie,' and given that they only get louder when the guitarist swings his hips and hair in their general direction, Steve guesses that's the guy's name.

A lot of the music fades with his attention so readily captured, but Steve likes this band more than the one before, and not just because he has to check if he's drooling when Eddie drops to his knees halfway through a song for a ridiculously attractive guitar solo. The bass is hard, and it's not just senseless thrashing. There's an occasional mellowness to the musical breaks, and the lyrics are followable. It's still not Steve's kind of sound, but dumb as he is about metal music, he knows these guys are good.

There are a few moments where Steve thinks his and Eddie's eyes meet, where one of those winks or blown kisses might be for him. He's still right against the stage, but Steve likes to think he's gotten a grip on his habit of wishful thinking and shrugs it away. He tells himself it's the blonde with the big rack screaming herself shrill just behind his shoulder that's getting all the attention he kind of wants just for himself.

Steve can tell the end of their set is coming up because somehow the energy in the crowd grows tenfold, and there's a new rocking of bodies where every other note of the song currently howling from the amps bumps Steve up against the platform, harder and harder each time. Something's coming. He doesn't know what, couldn't even guess, but the atmosphere is ratcheting to positively feral levels as he's jerked left and right but managing to keep his feet planted. And when the drum solo kicks in, starting soft but growing into a steady crescendo, Steve's proven corrected.

The audience behind him gives one heaving shove, and he trips forward, barely catching himself on the lip of the stage with his palms but nearly smacking his face on it all the same. He curses under his breath and shakes the disorientation from his head when he realizes someone is right in front of him. Steve follows the leather-clad knee up to a leather-clad thigh to a black cut-off tank top until his gaze plants itself right on the smirking mouth of Eddie, the guitarist.

The drums are still going, still rising in intensity like the crowd that's becoming distant white noise to Steve the longer Eddie doesn't move away. Steve doesn't even realize that Eddie's getting closer until there's a hand cupping his cheek, a thumb pressed to the dip of his chin, and his face is tipped up.

"Careful there, big boy," Steve thinks is what Eddie says, mostly reading his still sharply amused lips, and then he's not thinking much of anything because the cymbals of the drums crash, and Eddie is kissing him.

It's deep and messy and so full of blatant showmanship that it's mostly gross. It also has Steve's toes curling and a startled sort of moan forcing itself from his chest. It's quick also. Too quick if he's being honest. He doesn't even get a chance to close his eyes and feel it before Eddie separates from him with a wet pop and before jumping right back into the music.

He blows a kiss right at Steve and punctuates it with a hard-strummed chord on his guitar. Then he's gone, leaving Steve in a momentarily senseless vacuum until the room comes pouring back into his brain, and he's forced to acknowledge the people shaking him in some weird display of congratulations.

Steve's not sure how he's supposed to feel, but he thinks the next time Eddie throws a grin his way, he won't be as quick to dismiss it as being for him.

Ficlet Bingo!

[beechersnope]

Summer of Cum Days 13/14/15: moneyshot, prostate massage, come as lube

george/charles, warnings for intoxicated sex, sexual coercion, internalized homophobia, and charles being a terrible partner, 1011 words

***

They only ever do this when they’re high.

It’s tradition at this point, the slow, mellow exchange of hands that takes place when all their friends have gone home for the night, leaving just the two of them still sitting way too close together on a far too spacious sofa.

George isn’t like, into Charles, but he can appreciate the potent thrill of doing something he shouldn’t. He’s gotten over the hot, slick pulsing feeling of revulsion that had washed over him the first time he’d wrapped his fingers around Charles’s cock—mostly.

This time, though, Charles wants more.

“Come on,” Charles whines, his face pressed into the crook of George’s neck, breath hot against his throat. His accent is thicker when he’s crossfaded, a soupy mix of uvular consonants and nasal vowels. “Haven’t had a fuck in weeks.”

“And that’s my problem, how?” George asks.

Charles doesn’t answer him directly. He scoots closer, shoving a clumsy hand down the front of George’s trousers without warning. George inhales a sharp gasp and tries not to reflexively fuck up into Charles’s warm, dry, too tight grip.

“I’ll make you come first,” Charles promises. “I’ll make it so good for you.”

And George might hate himself for it, but he’s never been good at saying no.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he’s on his back in Charles’s bed, legs akimbo, naked as the day he was born. And Charles is two fingers deep inside his ass.

George wants to believe that Charles’s galling lack of technique is due to the fact that he’s had several beers and eaten two pot brownies, but that would be giving him far too much credit.

“Do you finger your girlfriend like this?” George wonders as he stares up at the ceiling, head jolting against the pillow with every rough thrust of Charles’s fingers. He’s only hard because he’s high, he tells himself. Weed always gets him horny.

“She does not like to be fingered,” Charles replies seriously.

He doesn’t take the hint. Every jerk of the wrist is more forceful than the last, and George can’t help but let out a high-pitched moan—of surprise—when Charles somehow manages to jab his fingers straight into what George can only assume is his prostate.

It feels good. George wishes it didn’t.

“It’s no wonder,” George manages to bite out in between his own heaving exhalations. “You’re not using a power saw, you’re supposed to give it a little finesse. I bet you don’t even touch her clit.” That was probably going a bit too far, George thinks, but after all this there was no denying that Charles needed the constructive criticism.

“You don’t have a clit,” Charles replies dumbly. He takes his free hand, cradling George’s right thigh in his palm and pushes it up, bending his knee towards his chest. Then he fucks his fingers in even faster, this time managing to hit George’s prostate directly on every single stroke.

It feels—George doesn’t know how it feels. There’s nothing to compare it to, just the feeling of hitting a wall at nearly two-hundred miles an hour.

George knows Charles doesn’t even know what he’s doing, that it’s just dumb luck, but that doesn’t stop George from shooting all over his chest and stomach in approximately fifteen seconds flat, his cock untouched, the whole thing dirty and obscene and overly theatrical like something from a porno. He isn’t even sure what sound came out of his mouth when he came, but when his vision comes back into focus again, Charles is staring down at him with an expression George has only ever seen when Charles qualifies on the front row, a future victory within reach.

Charles pulls his fingers out quickly—too quickly—and doesn’t acknowledge the hiss of discomfort that escapes George’s lips at the sudden loss. George wonders (with a sharp tinge of disgust) what it must look like from Charles’s perspective, whether he’s as open and raw and gaping as he feels, whether Charles has created a wound in him that he wasn’t meant to have.  

George clenches down around nothing, pathetically, a silent plea, and it’s almost a relief when Charles plunges his fingers back in again, wet now with George’s own come.

“What are you doing?” George asks, still feeling a bit dazed from the orgasm that had just been wrenched out of him.

“I told you,” Charles replies, a bit impatiently. He pulls his fingers out again after only a couple quick probing thrusts and swipes even more come from George’s flat, trembling belly, using it to slick up his cock instead. “I wanted to fuck you.”

His dick is hard and heavy between his thighs, too big to point straight up at his belly button the way it should. George can’t even conceptualize the idea of having it inside him, not after the way that Charles’s fingers had rent him asunder. He shudders, thinking of steel-spark sensation of something that huge balls-deep in his ass, jackhammering away with no consideration for anything but the pursuit of Charles’s own orgasm.

George wonders if Charles would even bother to pull out, or if he’d come inside him just because he could.

“I could blow you,” George offers as he suddenly comes to terms with the horrifying vulnerability of having Charles between his legs, about to fuck him the way he fucks all his little brunette assembly line girlfriends.

Charles just stares down at him blankly, like he doesn’t understand. “I want to fuck you,” he says again, more insistently this time. He grabs the base of his dick, already shuffling forward on his knees to line up with the give of George’s over-sensitized hole.

George should tell him to fuck off: that just because he has a massive cock and a stupid nickname, it doesn’t mean that he can have everything he wants. But he doesn’t say anything at all.

He just lies back, listening to the chorus of their panting breaths cutting through the silence like knives, and thinks of England.

[schrijverr]

Cracking the Code

Eddie finds out that Steve knows hanky code and that he would fit perfectly with Eddie. The revelation is enough for him to finally make his move.

On AO3.

Ships: Steve x Eddie

Warnings: it's about hanky code, people, though there's nothing beyond a steamy make out here. And it's the 80s, so homophobia mention

~~~~~~~~~

After their fourth run in with the Upside Down, the group has grown even closer with the new addition of Eddie, of course.

The man in question is glad for his new friends, who have helped him so much when he was recovering from his wounds in the hospital, recuperating right alongside Max. They’ve also been there for him as the town got used to him being innocent.

Steve has been the most helpful in that department, almost aggressively befriending Eddie and dragging him around town. He is unafraid to be seen with Eddie, shooting looks to anyone who even thinks to question it and loudly regaling the heroic tale of Eddie saving Steve’s life from a serial killer, per the government cover up.

It loosens something in Eddie’s chest that he has been ignoring since his second time Senior year, which he had shared with Steve.

Not that the man makes it easy to ignore the embarrassing crush Eddie has developed on his very straight best friend. He is always there hanging out with Eddie, letting him invade his personal space and taking the joking flirts in stride, blushing at some of the nicknames.

Still, Eddie has long since resigned himself to admiring Steve from a distance. He’s not messing up this friendship, no matter how badly he wants to hold Steve. Because Steve while might not mind Robin and shrug off Eddie’s joking comments, that can all change. A boy accepting a lesbian is very different than finding out their male friend’s joking flirts weren’t so joking at all and Eddie likes his teeth where they are, thank you very much.

So, he just lets his gaze linger and makes his comments, leans in close and hopes Steve never figures it out.

But Steve is not the only good thing about the whole Upside Down business. The whole group of friends are amazing and the days on which they all collectively hang out are some of Eddie’s favorites.

Today is such a day.

They’re all hanging around the new Byers house, which is still remotely located and is near a clearing in the forest. It’s a nice day out, warm enough that Eddie has shrugged off his heavy leather jacket as he leans back and tries not to blatantly stare at Steve, who is in nothing but his jeans and a tight shirt as he pitches balls for Lucas to hit, sweat sliding down his neck in a way that makes Eddie want to loose more than the jacket.

Dustin is sitting next to him, which is the only reason he is able to tear his eyes away. Because he’s not going to gawk at the man his favorite kid considers a mother (“Brother, Eddie, brother.” “Whatever you say, man.”).

At some point, Steve decides enough is enough, calling to Lucas to drink some water as he makes his way over to Eddie and Dustin. Eddie doesn’t know whether he is happy Steve is coming or sad he lost the view.

He resolves to be happy when Steve rolls up and uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face, showing off a strip of skin.

Steve grabs a water for himself as well, drinking half, before splashing his face with the rest as he groans: “It’s fucking hot, man.”

“You chose to wear jeans,” Dustin points out to him.

“It was too cold for shorts this morning,” Steve defends himself. “What did you want me to wear instead?”

Dustin shrugs: “You could wear ripped jeans like Eddie’s,” and Eddie will later claim that he cannot be blamed for imagining Steve in his jeans and being distracted.

“Why would I want to dress like Eddie?” Steve frowns, though there is a light blush coloring his cheeks.

“Because it’s cool, duh. I think you can pull it off,” Dustin tells him, plucking the hanky out of Eddie’s pocket, who just gets with the program, letting out a soft: “Huh?”

Dustin ignores them, stuffing the hanky in Steve’s left pocket as he smiles: “See. You can pull it off. Told you.”

Steve tries to look at his back pocket, arcing his back slightly as he squints at the hanky. But all Eddie can think of what that means and how Dustin and Steve don’t know, but he does and it makes his throat dry.

Then Steve rolls his eye and gets the hanky out of his pocket. Dustin starts to protest, but stops when Steve puts it in the other pocket. The right pocket. The one that would be compatible with Eddie’s. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He can’t know. Steve can’t know what he’s doing, right? Steve Harrington. King Steve. The straightest, jockiest boy in high school can’t know hanky code. He can’t. But that’s hard to convince himself off as Steve gives a satisfied smile and says: “That’s better.”

“No, Eddie always wears it in his left pocket. Always,” Dustin says and Eddie doesn’t know if he wants to hit the little shit or sink into the ground of mortification.

“Well, maybe that’s what’s best for Eddie, but not for me. Right pocket fits me best,” Steve informs Dustin easily, like Eddie’s brain isn’t exploding.

Dustin huffs: “God, you’re always so peculiar about your fashion,” before walking away.

Meanwhile, Steve’s words are playing on repeat in Eddie’s head. All before that could just be Steve unknowingly doing stuff, but that last part sounds like he knows. Like it’s on purpose. And it leaves him reeling.

Shocked he looks at Robin, his eyes screaming the question if she is seeing this shit?

In turn she just smirks and he remembers all the times she told him to come out to Steve that he was safe. How he had always shot her down, explaining how being a gay man was different than a lesbian and how they couldn't know for sure. How she had always bitten her lip like she wanted to say something, but couldn't before dropping it.

Suddenly it clicks for Eddie that she didn’t want to out Steve. Because Steve isn’t straight. Steve knows hanky code. Steve is meeting his eyes and winking.

Fuck, Eddie is going to explode.

It crashes down on him that Steve knows hanky code. Steve has been watching him parade around with that hanky that Eddie thought no one but Robin recognized. Holy shit, Steve has known what he likes in bed this whole time.

The thought of Steve thinking of Eddie in bed washes over him, but he quickly pushes it down. Not the time, he tells himself.

Steve’s cheeky smile from before when he winked has fallen and Eddie misses it. He dislikes seeing Steve worry and right now he definitely has his concerned frown on his face. Steve glances around gesturing for Eddie to follow.

He must have seen something on Eddie’s face and a hand grips Eddie’s heart. What is Steve going to say to him? Did he finally notice the crush Eddie has? Is he finally getting beat up? Unlikely if Steve knows hanky code, but his brain isn’t really running on all cylinders.

“Are you okay, man?” Steve asks, all soft concern when they were out of sight, behind the Byers house.

Eddie chuckles humorlessly, maybe a tad hysteric. He cards a hand through his hair and decides to just go for it. If he’s to die of embarrassment than today will be the day, because if he doesn’t talk about this, it is going to ruin him. Thinking about Steve with that hanky, his hanky, is going to ruin him.

“Uhm, Steve- God this will be even more humiliating if you don’t. Fuck,” Eddie takes a deep breath, glad Steve is giving him the room to figure it out. “Steve, do you know hanky code?”

“Oh!” Steve’s mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ as he catches on to what Eddie is saying. He blushes a bright scarlet and looks away before muttering: “Maybe.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie can’t help the exclamation that passes over his lips and he blurts out: “You’ve just been watching as I put a giant I’m kinky sign over my head. Fuck, that’s so embarrassing. I thought I was all subtle and shit.”

“Eddie. Eddie! Calm down,” Steve cuts him off before he can really start up and dig an even deeper hole for himself. “The only reason I even know is because I’m also, you know…”

“Kinky? Queer?” Eddie gives the two options, hoping Steve says both.

“Uhm, yeah, that,” Steve says, the blush returning now that his worries have been soothed. He looks away and softly says: “Robin keeps telling me I should make a move, but I never wanted to assume that just because you’re, you know, into that, that you’d be into me.”

Mentally Eddie apologizes to Robin, who has apparently been caught up in their pining for a while, unable to do something without outing one of them.

However, with the confirmation that it’s okay, confidence floods back into his system. A wolfish grin appears on his face, as he puts a step forwards, forcing Steve to take a step back. He brackets him against the wall leaning in close.

He hasn’t said or done anything else, but he has a front row seat to how Steve swallows, head titling slightly, almost subconsciously at Eddie’s advancement.

“So pretty,” he whispers. “Just waiting to be swept off your feet, aren’t you? Needed to be backed into a corner and told you’re liked, like one of those blushing school girls? You like this, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Steve nods, his breathing picking up.

“I’m going to need some words, pretty boy,” Eddie tells him. Not touching him just yet, both teasing Steve and waiting for consent to move further.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve breathes harshly. “Yes, I like it, green, or whatever. Please.”

And isn’t that an interesting tidbit of knowledge. Steve knows the traffic light system.

Eddie’s grin widens and he hotly whispers: “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun, princess,” in Steve’s ear, enjoying how he gasps as Eddie finally presses close, licking a strip over the offered neck.

Steve gasps. So responsive, Eddie thinks, a plan already forming in his head. He buries his hand in Steve’s hair, his precious hair, and pulls Steve into a kiss. It’s filthy and wet, but perfect. One of his knees slides between Steve’s legs, letting Steve grind slowly against it as he swallows the small noises he makes.

They make out for a bit more, Eddie waiting until Steve’s hands start to roam. He allows it for a second crowding in more. His hand glides to Steve’s ass, but his real target is something else, though he doesn’t deprive himself of a feel, before taking the hanky and stepping back.

As he does, Steve lets out an honest to god whine, his chest heaving, face flushed and lips slick with pit. His eyes are hazy as he asks: “Huh?”

“I believe this is mine,” Eddie grins, holding up the hanky, before stuffing it back in his own pocket. “Now, I think we’ve been gone for awhile and I wouldn't want the kids to worry.”

Steve’s brain catches on to what Eddie is implying and he lets out a soft noise, face contorting in such a pretty pout that Eddie almost changes his plans. However, he’s not doing anything with Steve if the kids can walk in on them, not to mention Hopper or Joyce. He might actually die of mortification if that happens.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m so mean,” he teases. “But you deserve more than a behind the shack fuck, pretty boy. So, why don’t you try calming that dirty little mind of yours down and if you’re still up for it, you can come by tonight. We can talk, do more if you’re good… How does that sound, princess?”

He watches Steve take a deep breath, blinking a few times as he comes down from their make out session. Reason creeps back into his eyes and he flushes more, adjusting himself and giving Eddie the stink eye as he grumbles: “I hate it when you’re right.”

“You must hate me a lot, sweetheart,” Eddie grins.

“Oh shove off,” Steve says, before making a waving gesture. “Just go. I’ll be right behind you. Last thing I need is for those little shitheads to ask questions.”

Eddie nods, suddenly a bit unsure. Steve seemed into the make out, wanted to continue and Eddie has offered his invitation, but what if Steve changes his mind? Eddie doesn’t know if he could handle the heartbreak if Steve didn’t show tonight.

Steve must have caught on, because he gives Eddie a soft reassuring smile as he promises: “I’ll see you later,” and it could have been about walking back to the gathering, but something in his tone tells Eddie that it’s not.

He smiles brightly, before straightening out his clothes and walking back, pointedly ignoring Robin’s cheeky smirk and knowing eyes. A look that only gets more knowing when Steve joins them a little later, his hair not as perfect as usual.

They don’t speak much throughout the rest of the gathering, but Steve keeps sending him heated glances and Eddie keeps sending him smirks.

Yeah, he isn’t surprised at all when Steve shows up on his doorstep that evening.

[giggly-squiggily]

This isn't a request for a tickle fic so I hope you are okay with writing it! I just wanted to request a fic were Leo and Yuno had revealed the fact that they are in a relationship so Yuno takes Leo to hage so he can meet everyone!

Ahh, my weakness! *vibrates at an inhuman speed* I'm so normal about them I swear! aerajrjheakjreaj No but really- this is a delight of a prompt and I'm beyond happy to make it for you, anon! I hope you like it!

CW: Mild angst, mentions of homophobia VERY LIGHT SPOILER WARNING: Black Clover Eps. 71-72 (It's incredibly vague- there's no real details but I'm gonna put it out there just in case)

Cloud 9 (Taglist peeps):

@duckymcdoorknob

“Come to Hage with me!”

When Yuno first offered the suggestion to Leopold, he was excited. It’d been some time since he’d seen his family, and the idea of sharing a part of himself with Leopold felt right.

Then excitement turned to unyielding anxiety in a matter of hours as he realized he had no idea HOW he was going to do that.

The planning wasn’t the difficult part- both Captains Fuegoleon and William were fine with it, and they even managed to rope Captain Yami into letting Asta and Noelle tag along. Letters were sent, and the responses have been nothing but positive from Sister Lily and Father Orsi . The actual trip was set.

It was the whole- you know- coming out thing. All this time later, and he still hadn’t told them. Yuno felt his stomach twist into a thousand knots as he watched Hage’s green hills get closer in the distance, willing himself not to shake.

“You’re gonna love it there! Our siblings are a riot, but they’ll get used to you pretty fast.” Asta was filling the mildly tense air with chatter, giving Leopold and Noelle the details about their family. A few times the redhead would look his way, smiling brightly at him. That helped- somewhat.

“You okay?” Leopold floated over on his broom, voice pitched low so the others wouldn’t hear him. “You look like you’re gonna puke.”

“Motion sickness?” Yuno offered, wincing when his voice shook..

“You’re nervous huh?” He smiled, bumping him gently. “I’m a bit too. Do you…do you think they’ll like me?”

“You’re like a second Asta. They’ll adore you.” Yuno grinned, earning a laugh and a light shove from Leopold. “Really- I do think they’ll like you. Both of you.” He nodded back to where Asta and Noelle were, their voices acting as background noise.

“Thanks.” Leopold leaned over, giving him a quick peck before returning to the original pair, Asta’s “WHERE HERE!” snapping him back to reality.

It’ll be fine. Yuno took a breath, forcing a smile. Everything is going to be fine.

He hoped.

~~~

“YUNO! ASTA!” Recca all but squealed upon seeing the three brooms above. “Everyone- Asta and Yuno are back!”

Within seconds of touching the ground, they were swarmed. Squeals of glee rang out from Arlu and Holo as they bull-tackled Asta, clinging to his legs and jumping up with grabby hands. Recca practically squeezed the life out of Yuno, her frizzy red hair almost to his chin- when did she get so tall? Sister Lily came out soon after, tears in her eyes as she hugged both of them just as tight. By the door, Father Orsi laughed, patting Nash on the head as they waited their turn to get their hugs.

It was a mess of limbs and hugs and kisses and ear shattering screams of glee from the youngest kids.. Yuno took it all in, nostalgia and warmth mixing in his chest as he reunited with his family. God, he missed them all so much.

“Welcome home, boys.” Orsi smiled when he managed to get in, hugging them both before patting their heads. “Though I should call you two men- after everything you’ve been through. Still; no matter how old you two get, you’ll always be the squishy cheeked babies I remember when you first arrived.”

“Father Orsi, come on! I’m so much bigger now since being a baby!” Asta huffed, unable to stay annoyed. Yuno laughed softly, willing his ears to stop burning. It didn’t help that Leopold was snickering in the background, clearly pleased.

“I suppose so- now, who are these fine people you two brought?” He asked, looking out towards Noelle and Leopold. Yuno’s stomach twisted once more, the anxiety he was just beginning to forget about piercing him like an arrow. Right- introductions. It was time.

“This is Noelle! Fellow Black Bull and royalty!” Asta cheerfully introduced Noelle, pulling her closer to the group. “She’s a really cool water mage! If you’re lucky- she might show you some tricks!”

“Dorksta- don’t go promoting me like I’m some sort of circus act!” Noelle fussed, cheeks red and mildly annoyed. From the group, some of the kids giggled. “Erm, it’s nice to meet you all.”

“Your girlfriend’s pretty, Dorksta!” Holo declared, making Noelle flush crimson with a squeak. Sister lily scowled him gently but Asta took it in stride, laughing with the rest of his siblings at the nickname. When the chatter died down, all eyes turned to Yuno and Leopold.

It’ll be fine.

“Leopold Vermillion! Nice to meet you all!” Leopold declared proudly, all smiles. The children were hooked almost immediately, eyes shining. “I’m Yuno’s-” He paused then, turning to the other. There was a question in his eyes. Is this okay?

Yuno felt his heart squeeze so hard it hurt. Leopold was giving him the chance to lie- to just say he was Yuno’s good friend. To work up the courage later and tell them another time. He was grateful for the redhead at that moment.

“He’s my boyfriend.” Yuno finished. Alas- as grateful as he was; he had to do it. Leopold had already agreed to keep it a secret in the past- he wasn’t gonna put him through all that again . “We’ve been dating for a while now.”

Faces morphed into surprise- Father Orsi’s brows shot up and Sister Lily blinked. Recca and Nash’s mouths formed into “o” shapes, while Arlu and Holo were too busy hovering around Noelle to notice. Even Asta looked surprised- and he knew already. Yuno waited, pleading with whomever was listening for- what- the ground to swallow him up? For lighting to strike him down? For Captain William to call and suddenly announce a task only Yuno could fill and save him from this awkward situation?

“Well, this was unexpected.” Father Orsi was the first to speak, his shock fading into  warmth as he came over, shaking Leopold’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Leopold.”

“I recognize the name- are you related to Mimosa Vermillion?” Sister Lily recovered just as fast, smiling brightly. “She’s a darling, that one.”

“Oh yeah- she’s mine and Noelle’s cousin.” Leopold fell into easy chatter with them, bright as the sun as they asked about his team and family. Recca wiggled past the adults to Yuno’s side, her hand finding his as she leaned into his arm.

“Is he good to you?” She asked. Yuno took a shaky breath before nodding.

“He’s very good. The best man I’ve ever met.” Recca’s hand squeezed his in return, her face softening to a happy grin.

“Okay. Then I like him.” She decided. Yuno felt his throat tighten some as he leaned over, kissing her brow.

Asta and Noelle were soon dragged into the chatter. Before long, everyone was comfortable around everyone.

All but Nash, who hovered just outside the group with a pinched expression.

~~~

“It was so HOT! And dangerous too- there were so many cliffs and rocks, and the ground was carved with lava!” Asta stood before the group, retelling his adventures to his siblings- complete with standing tall and raising his arms high to emphasize his point. “There were so many instances where I was sure I wasn’t gonna make it! One wrong move, and your future Wizard King would have been as cooked as a Hage Potato!”

“I’m surprised you didn’t. I bet Yuno didn’t have any problems in that heat- not with his wind magic.” Recca grinned at her brother, earning a small smile in return. “I bet you were cool as the snow climbing that volcano!”

“Oh no, I just got lucky.” Yuno shrugged.

“Don’t be so humble- he was amazing!” Leopold grinned, joining Asta in retelling their adventures of Mereoleona’s training camp. “He was all- ZOOM! And we were all: ‘Whaaaat’ and he was all- “I’m so cool, look at me.’”

“Yeah yeah! Definitely!” Asta agreed, earning a round of laughter from the kids. “Noelle looked cool too!”

“What? Oh- don’t just say those things, Dorksta!” She huffed, cheeks pink but clearly pleased. Arlu and Holo were  fast asleep against her lap, likely dreaming of the small water dragons Noelle created for their entertainment . Despite her earlier complaints about being an attraction, it didn’t take long at all for her to give in and play with them. Yuno felt a new appreciation for the water mage. “I guess you were kinda cool too…”

“Oh goodness- I can’t imagine going through that myself!” Sister Lily laughed around her tea mug, fanning away the imaginary heat. “You two have been getting so strong since you went to the capital.”

“That’s our boys!” Orsi agreed, raising a cup of what Yuno suspected wasn’t water. He didn’t mind though- it was nice sitting with everyone again. Though, there was still something wrong.

Throughout the day, Nash had been fairly quiet, not talking much at all during dinner or the time before. He’d always been a calmer soul, but Yuno couldn’t help but suspect he was angry. There was this clear tension radiating off of him that prickled at Yuno’s skin all throughout the day- especially tense during dinner when they were all sitting together.

Yuno tried to brush it off as discomfort of new people, but sitting here now- Nash nowhere in sight, his thoughts got the better of him.

Did Nash…not accept him?

Slipping away from the group, he went to find him, scared of what he’d find but determined to get to the bottom of it.

~~~

“Nash?” Yuno called out, finding his brother sitting on the back steps of the church. “There you are.”

“Oh, hey Yuno.” The younger boy looked back at him, his face and voice calm as ever. In his hands he was playing with a tree branch, picking at the bark and pulling at the leaves. “Got overwhelmed in there?”

“A bit. I actually came to find you.” Yuno began to walk over but stopped, suddenly unsure of himself. What if he sat down beside him and Nash walked away? Maybe he should…

“Why are you hovering? It’s not like we’re strangers.” Nash nodded at the spot beside him. Yuno flushed as he sat down, shamed. Why was this suddenly so difficult?

Silence hung between them, charged with something Yuno couldn’t quite put his finger on that did nothing to ease his nerves. He went to find words, but his throat felt tight, locking away his vocal cords. He needed to say it. “Nash…are you mad?”

Nash didn’t reply, though the slow pace he was working at with his stick sped up, growing slightly more aggressive. Ah, so he was.

“Are you mad…at me?” Yuno asked, feeling his heart sink when the picking grew. “Did I do something wrong?”

The stick shook. Nash’s calm expression grew pinched. “You didn’t tell us.”

There it was. Yuno bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t- don’t apologize.” Nash tossed the stick aside, turning so he could face Yuno properly. “I don’t want an apology. I just want to know why. You know us- we’re your family! That’s never gonna change, so why…why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Nash huffed, shoulders drooping. “Did you not…trust us?”

“What- no, not at all!” Yuno winched, hating how sad his brother sounded. “It’s not that at all. I just…” He was about to ramble when he stopped, taking a breath. This was Nash- clever, understanding Nash. He might as well be honest. “I was scared.”

“Of us?” Nash blinked, tilting his head.

“Of how you’d all react.” Yuno nodded, turning to look at his knees. “Back at the capital, there are some incredible people there. But there’s also a lot of cruel ones too. Leopold- he came out before me, and I still think about some of the awful things said about him. Some were said about me too- both behind my back and to my face. I try not to care about them- they already have problems with me being a commoner, but…”

“You were scared we’d react the same way.” Nash spoke softly, voice barely over a whisper. Yuno winced, nodding.

“I know now it was irrational,, but at the time- when I first started figuring myself out and being with Leopold; I was just so…terrified. I couldn’t bring myself to say it in a letter- I needed to know in person how you’d all react. I didn’t want to come home and be treated like a stranger. That…that would hurt.” Yuno felt his eyes sting, his throat closing with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I wish I had the courage to say it sooner, but…I didn’t. I’m sorry I made you think you couldn’t be trusted, and I’m sorry-”

“Stop.” Nash scooted over, resting his head against Yuno’s shoulder. “You’re shaking.” He took his hand in his own, two small warm ones holding Yuno’s icy limb. “Just breathe, Yuno.”

Yuno willed himself to do so, taking slow deep breaths one after another as he forced himself to calm down. He hadn’t realized just how close to a panic attack he was getting. Nash’s voice guided him back to reality, his hands still squeezing Yuno’s as the older boy collected himself. “Sorry…”

“Didn’t I just say to stop that?” Nash gave him a look, eyes softening after a moment. Silence passed before he spoke again. “You don’t have to apologize- it doesn’t seem like an easy thing to talk about. If anything- I’m sorry for getting so mad about it. Even if it took awhile, I’m glad you were able to tell us now.”

Yuno didn’t trust his voice, opting to squeeze Nash’s shoulder. Nash took this as a sign to continue.

“You know- I don’t even think that part is what made me upset. I’m really happy you found that Leopold guy, and I’m happy you and Asta are living your lives. I guess it’s just…everytime you and Asta come home, so much has happened. One minute you’re heading out to the capital, the next, you’re these powerful Magic Knights with cool abilities and war stories. I feel like there’s just so much..missing between. Like those old books someone donated that had chapters missing.” Nash dropped some, shaking his head. “That was probably stupid to listen to, huh?”

“Not at all. I think I get it.” Yuno nodded, finding his voice as he turned towards the skyline. “I’m sorry about that. Things happen so fast there, and when I go to write, I never know what to say. That and I’d hate to give Sister Lily a heart attack with the gorey details.” That earned a small smile from Nash. Yuno felt his chest loosen. “I’ll try to be better about keeping you guys updated. And I’ll try to visit more often.”

“Promise?” Nash peeked up at him. Yuno raised his pinky. Without hesitation, Nash curled his own around it.

“Promise.” Yuno gave it a little shake, the same way they did when Nash was real young. Just like that, the knots in his stomach vanished. He could breathe again.

“Thanks Yuno. Though, can I ask you something?” Nash leaned in conspiratory-like, brows furrowing. “What made you fall for him? Don’t get me wrong- he seems great, but he’s like a second Asta- just so…loud.”

Yuno snorted, hand slapping over his mouth as he shook with mirth. Nash grinned, giggling alongside his brother.

“I suppose that’s a good place to start.” Yuno got out once he recovered. The rest of the night he shared the tale with Nash, the tale of how he and Leopold came to be.

~~~

“There you are. We really do have a fondness for fields, don’t we?” Leopold laughed as he flopped down beside Yuno, the stars bright above and the air chilled. Yuno was lying on his back, hands tucked behind his head as he reflected on the day’s events. Overall- it all went well.

“That’s true. We’ll have to change it up soon. How about a beach day next time?” Yuno suggested, grinning when Leopold made a face.

“No way- I’m still finding sand in inconvenient places.” Shaking his head, he flopped backwards and into Yuno’s chest, snuggling close. “Thanks for inviting me out. Your family’s great!”

“Told you they’d love you.” Yuno hugged him close, skittering his nails against his back. “I’m glad you came. They’re gonna be talking about you and Noelle for months.”

“Hehe, better send some presents then. Gotta keep my “cool older brother” rep with the kiddos.” Leopold closed his eyes, melting against his boyfriend’s hand. “Hey…this is kinda dumb but..thanks for introducing me as your boyfriend. I would have gone with the whole friend thing if you weren’t ready to tell them, but…It made me really happy.”

“It’s not dumb at all. And I appreciate you so much for that. Still…I wanted to tell them. Regardless of what happened, I wanted them to know you as my boyfriend. It was really scary, but I’m glad I did it. I feel so…relieved.” Yuno nodded,  satisfied with his choice of words as he played with Leopold’s braid. “Was it like that for you when you came out to your siblings?”

“Honestly? I can’t remember. When I came out, I was so scared of chickening out I busted into Fuegoleon’s office and shouted it at the top of my lungs. Sis must have heard me from down the hall cause she yelled back “Good for you!” and Fuegoleon wasn’t fazed in the slightest. I think they both already knew.” Leopold laughed at the memory, smiling to himself. “I’m so lucky to have the siblings I have. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“Yeah…” Yuno hummed in agreement, letting that settle. It made him grateful for his siblings as well- and his comrades. How’d he get so lucky to find the people he met?

“So- it’s just the two of us now. Do you think anyone will be slipping out this evening?” Leopold asked, sitting up so they were eye to eye, a teasing grin on his lips. Yuno blinked before flushing some, feeling his eyes widen.

“Leo!”

“What? I’ve been good- I’ve held back all day from doing it.” He leaned in some, green eyes sparkling with warmth. “Now or never, right?”

Yuno rolled his eyes with a soft laugh, flicking his bangs away. “You’re a dork. Fine, come here.” 

Leopold wasted no time pressing his lips against Yuno’s, pushing him back into the grass.

It was all as Yuno hoped it would be and more. He was so glad he came home.

Thanks for reading!

[imbadatwrighting]

If your orders are open can I request a bill denbrough x male reader fluff or angst? The plot can be anything because there are literally no bill x male readers and I really want one.

I was originally going to make this angst but I don’t trust myself to make amazing angst just yet also sorry this took awhile I didn’t see it until 3 days after it was asked 😭

Late night cuddles

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x M!reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Bill and [name] finally can get some alone time without the crew even if it’s only possible around midnight

Warnings: implied mentions of homophobia & me switching the pov by accident and also it’s kinda short ngl

————————————————————————

“Red or blue?”

“R-red,” a voice spoke up, not letting their eyes fall off the food they were currently cutting up, yet knowing that the male sitting down on the couch was talking about which blanket to bring.

“Bill, are you sure you want to bring food with us? By the time we get there it’ll already be 6am,” another voice spoke, walking over to the male in the kitchen, wrapping their arms around his waist and leaning their head on his shoulder.

“I’m a-almost d-done [name], give me another s-second,” the boy replied, starting to slowly sway with the taller boy.

He only received a hum as a reply as the slightly older male readjusted his head to now be placed on top of Bill’s head.

“Swedish fish? You know I don’t like those,” [name] spoke up looking at the small bag of Swedish fish go into Bill’s book bag with the rest of the food.

“T-then don’t e-eat t-them. They’re n-not for y-you,” the other male let out a chuckle soon letting go of Bill’s waist and grabbing the book bag which he put in his back.

“Come on Bill. We don’t have all day you know. Grab your coat and lets go.”

“C-coming,” grabbing the last of the things you and Bill would need, Bill rushed out the door promptly after you.

He gotten his bike and wheeled to catch up with you who gotten a head start and is already way ahead of him. However, it didn’t take long for him to catch up with you soon only being a short distance behind you.

“B-Beverly told m-me t-to tell you t-that she w-wants to m-meet up t-tomorrow just the t-two of y-you,” Bill spoke up. Looking to see if you would have a visible reaction but all he got was a low pitched hum.

“Did she say what time?”

“S-she said t-to tell you ‘t-the s-same as a-always.”

The boy ahead of him never looked back to see Bill yet knew what was going on. “You have no reason to be nervous my love. It’s probably nothing she just asks me on advice about certain things sometimes. Trust me that’s it,” the boy spoke in a quiet and calm voice, and deep at the same time.

The boy behind you blushed a deep shade of red, turning his head to look at the houses he was passing. “I-I’m n-not n-nervous,” he mumbled quietly under his breath yet you could hear him anyways.

You let out a chuckle at your boyfriend’s reaction then speeding up when getting closer to the destination.

“Come on love, I’m here already yet you’re still wallowing in self-pity,” Bill’s face got even redder as he rushed to get over to you and off his bike.

You started to get the things that you put in the basket on your bike but was interrupted by a face smushing itself into your chest.

You looked around seeing the hills and forest around you to make sure no one could see you, knowing it would only make things worse for Bill and cause him to be more embarrassed.

Once you saw no one was looking you slowly and calmly dropped the things you were holding and wrapped your arms around Bill.

“Come on Bill. We can relax all we want when we get situated,” you slowly pushed Bill away from you and picked your things back up.

He grabbed the things that he was carrying and walked up the hill behind you. Looking around he could see some neighborhoods in the distance but both of you aren’t close enough for them to see you and him.

“D-do you t-think we’ll be c-caught?” Bill asked you, imagining the worst scenarios of some adult or teen finding you guys.

“At 12am? I doubt it,” you replied calming Bill’s worries.

“Y-yeah I g-guess y-your right.”

“Always am,” you joked when you reached the top of the hill. Laying the blanket on the fluffy hill and putting your stuff down you then sat down facing the direction of the town.

Bill sat down next to your, leaning his head on your shoulder while you kept staring off in the distance.

“A-are you s-sure?” You looked over at Bill who pulled his head up and looked back at you only to see you put a small smile on your face.

You grabbed him suddenly with both arms and pulled him down in the way in the grass, making him let out a small squeak.

Laughing you positioned your self on top of him with your arms on both sides of his head.

You cooled off and rolled over to the left side of him where he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled his head into your chest.

“If we are then I don’t care. If we do get caught it’ll be by some crackhead and who’s going to believe them. Especially when they’re saying they found the Bill Denbrough cuddling [name] [last name] the ultimate ‘playboy’.”

He hummed along with that, slightly tightening his grasp on you while you payed to mind to it and stared up at the stars with one hand under your head and the other one holding into Bill.

“I l-love you.” Bill mumbled quietly slowly starting to fall asleep.

“I love you too.”

[simplytheevebest]

The Pursuit of Misery

Author's Note: Hello and welcome back to another episode of "I make Eve Best's characters cry." I just really want Rhaenys to get to be upset over all the shit she went through. So she is. Also I'm sorry Corlys and Rhaenys aren't getting along, but I'm also not that sorry ❤️

On Ao3

Mild warnings to canon-typical homophobia mentioned by Corlys about Laenor.

The night is dark and still, no pinpricks of starlight visible behind the scattered cloud cover, the moon similarly veiled as though shielding itself from her grief. A wayward sea breeze catches the curtains, dragging them along the edge of the stone floor and chilling her through the sleeves of her nightgown; she tucks the shawl closer about her shoulders, feeling her age and twice as many years. It weighs upon her like a shroud, a heavy weakness more potent than any sickness, more agonizing than any wound. It sparks like a fever burning from within, searing through her veins with a sore ache that pains her breaths and seizes her heart. She feels frail, thin, as a favored blanket made threadbare, exposed, vulnerable and likely to fall apart if handled too roughly. The breeze picks up, curtains whirling around her still form like the Stranger’s caress: she wonders if it won’t reach for her too, pitch her over the edge of the balcony into the dark night, if it will shock her back into herself before she strikes the ground, if she’d regret it if she did.

She hums, a low, soothing lullaby as familiar to her as her own heartbeat, as familiar to her as the heartbeats of the children she’d once sung it to, holding them that first time to her breast after hours of labors. How small they had been, the tiniest of fingers and toes, softest of skin and lightest of cries. They’d been blessed by the gods with easy children, even as Laenor agonized through colic those first few months, his wails shattering her heart and stealing her sleep. She wouldn’t have traded those nights of soothing walks and cuddling for anything. The melody catches in her throat; she continues shakily, brokenly, swiping with her thumb at a wayward tear that leaks from the corner of her eye. She’s too exhausted to cry much more, she feels drained of the effort it would take.

The knock at the door is a soft thing, praying not to be heard, but she turns her head to the open doorway, pinning the intruder with her attention before they can slip away. Rhaenyra takes the glance for the beckoning summons it is, stepping solidly into the sitting room of the Lord and Lady of Driftmark. Her pale gaze sweeps the artifacts on the walls, lining shelves and covering tables, each with a story the children had delighted to hear from their father, wide eyes enraptured by the bestowing of overzealous retellings of his seafaring adventurers. How Corlys delighted when Laenor proclaimed his wish to follow in his father’s footsteps (how disappointed he had been when Laenor’s head was turned instead by dragonback and swords).

“Princess,” Rhaenyra greets softly, her own shawl loose about her shoulders and hands clasped before her. Rhaenys allows herself a lapse in decorum not to offer her tea; the hour is late for it anyway, and she doubts the younger woman means to stay long enough for it to be boiled.

“I wanted to inform you we mean to depart in two days time,” Rhaenyra continues. “The children and I are eager to… carry on as we must.”

She chooses her words carefully, and Rhaenys swallows the chafing they cause; she doubts any words the young princess could’ve chosen wouldn’t cut her to the quick. A week and two days since her daughter’s funeral, three since her son’s. It feels unfathomable that time should march on so quickly, that the world should keep turning when she feels so… trapped, as a fly in the web of a cruel and vengeful reality.

“As we must,” Rhaenys repeats in a murmur, keeping her gaze across the sea, watching the rippling of the newly exposed moon reflected on the water. As we must. As she must, eventually. But “eventually” feels such a long way away; it feels impossible that she should weather further storms of fate long enough to reach "eventually."

“Do you know if Prince Daemon means to return to Pentos?” She asks softly; she hasn’t seen her cousin since the funeral, has had no desire to speak with him much, truthfully. Her jaw clenches involuntarily at the reminder of the disrespect shown at Laena’s funeral: it had taken every ounce of control she possessed not to demand his tongue for the insult of his mirth at her eulogy. Daemon has always been a man of his own morals, his own ambitions and his own reasons. It had united them in their youth, similar rebellious spirits delighting in the exasperation of their elders. It divides them presently in their maturity, for Rhaenys knows now the joy and fulfillment of family; Daemon, despite boasting two late wives and two daughters, she doesn’t know if she can say the same of him, and she wishes not to suffer the insult of learning she is right.

Rhaenyra clears her throat, discomfort painting her words, “He… does not. He means to return to Dragonstone with myself and the boys.”

“That is kind of him,” Rhaenys remarks distantly. There is a roaring in her ears she can’t mistake for the waves. It feels more akin to the wind rushing by on dragonback, or the beat of leathery wings overhead at the approach of one of the great beasts. It’s an anticipatory sound she feels inclined to shy away from, fearing the misery it might bring.

“It is kind… and expected, of a husband to escort his wife,” Rhaenyra speaks carefully. The rushing stops, leaving a ringing silence not unlike that of riding above the clouds. That roaring wind fades to silence faster than the ears can comprehend and all is still in a way earth can never hope to be. It is calm, peaceful, removed from whatever trials and tribulations await below. This silence does not leave Rhaenys with the same peace; she longs instead for the silence of the clouds, an unbreakable silence, now more than ever.

“What did you say?” Her words are a whisper, but no less a demand. Rhaenyra has the decency -the good grace- to look abashed at the confession, and her hands twist themselves tighter together. She is every inch the spoiled child Rhaenys had sought to warn all those years ago, haughty and self-assured in her own ranking and used to the whims of a father -and expecting it of a realm- bending to her will. But it is an idea only, a wish, a farce, that Rhaenys knows better than anyone. She had sought to warn Rhaenyra of the pain of hopelessness; she wishes instead she had let the child be, to drown in her own selfish delusions.

“It is sudden, I know,” Rhaenyra speaks quickly, fearing a wrath she has every right to expect, “And we might have invited you, we intended to, only-”

“Only I was busy preparing the funeral arrangements of my son -your late husband,” Rhaenys hisses, caring little for the rudeness of interrupting her. She almost dares Rhaenyra to call her on it, but the little princess -for she is every inch the naive, spoiled girl Rhaenys remembers, if not worse- merely tightens her clasped hands and straightens her shoulders, chin raised, like she has any reason to be so high-handed.

“I loved your son-” and how quickly she applies the past tense “-and I know he loved me. I know he wouldn’t wish me to suffer alone, nor would Laena wish it on Daemon.”

“And do you?” Rhaenys demands, cold fury seizing her tone, “Suffer? Do your hearts bleed from no visible wound, as mine does, do your lungs refuse to draw air at the weight of their absence, as mine do, do you lose sleep, as I do, a mother forced to bury her children, both of them, twenty, thirty years before their time? Do you ache with the pain of it? Does it fester in your blood and rot your soul as it does mine? No,” Rhaenys shakes her head, turns from the pantomime of grief before her, and in an instant the anger is gone, as the receding of the tide on the sand and in its place a weariness she feels down to her bones, “You do not grieve him, because you did not love him, nor did Daemon love Laena.”

“I did love your son,” Rhaenyra repeats, the barest of tremors in her tone: perhaps she did feel something for Laenor, but it was not love. She didn’t love him anymore than he could love her, Rhaenys knows this, has seen the proof of it, even if Corlys is content to stay blind.

“Is it love for him that propelled you into the arms of your dear uncle, or was it love for your dear uncle that propelled my son to the hearth?”

The accusation is laid bare before them, once the faintest of thoughts Rhaenys had refused to entertain but now must, an unbearable truth pieced together by tragedy: an uncle and niece separated by the will of her father now brought together in grief of their lost spouses. Is it coincidence they were both born of her blood, or has she missed some ugly transference of power? By her husband’s own word their flesh and blood are not to inherit Driftmark because the weight of a name holds stronger. Was this always the plan, something twisted and evil born from her own kin, bred on the belief, her belief, that blood should hold more weight than connections and power? Could they not merely have schemed to take her throne, her crown, her claim, her home -must they have taken her family?

“I know you won’t care to hear it,” Rhaenyra’s tone has taken on a bite, one Rhaenys will hear many times over in the coming years whenever the subject is raised, “But I had nothing to do with Laenor’s death. I did not order it-”

“I never said you did,” Rhaenys responds cooly and the young woman works her jaw furiously, silently, for a moment.

“You mean to catch me out, Princess, and your ire is not misplaced, I understand it, and I accept it. This is not how I would have news of my marriage be spread but circumstances being what they are-”

“You have been married, on the very land born of the waves that have consumed both my children in less than a fortnight’s time?”

The audacity of the spoiled child that is spared the rod; Rhaenys turns from the window to face properly this violator of her mourning, more angry at herself for her own disbelief than she is at this insufferable brat for her insolence.

“You come to me, three nights on from the funeral of my son, a week from that of my daughter, to tell me you have already married my cousin and wish to depart with haste? And you expect my blessing?”

“Never,” Rhaenyra is self aware in that, at least, “I don’t ask for it, and I don’t require it.” That auspicious little- “I merely wished to inform you of the recent changes-” As though they are paltry! “-before our departure, specifically to discuss the girls. Your granddaughters.”

As though Rhaenys needs reminding of them. They are as prevalent on her mind as her own children, all she can think about, all she has left. Her heart seizes on the thought: do they mean to take them from her too? Rhaenyra takes her silence, incorrectly, as a sign to continue to speak her case, “We would let you have Baela, to raise as your ward.”

“You would ‘let me have’ Baela?” Her words are frozen steel but burn with the seething undertone of her anger returned, roiling beneath the tidal waves of grief like dragonfire, “As though she is an offering of peace? A worthy trinket? A trade, of my own granddaughter for my compliance?”

“That is not how it is intended,” Rhaenyra is quick to back down, “Only Daemon loves them both equally-” Rhaenys scoffs, for she has scene their father behave with nothing but clear prejudice for Baela, already a bonded future dragonrider, and against the dragonless Rhaena, her own namesake; Rhaenyra narrows her eyes “-but he agrees that perhaps the grief and… ill feelings might be tempered with this show of good faith. He knows you love the girls, cherish them as your own even, and would do right by either of them, whichever you choose.”

“I would have both,” Rhaenys snaps, “And not be made to choose, for I do love my granddaughters equally.”

“It isn’t Daemon’s wish to be parted from his daughters,” Rhaenyra’s neutrality is grating, for Rhaenys has long tired of being proclaimed too swift to pass judgement in her own tone; she will not be made the hysterical and unreasonable one, not on a topic such as this. “But he equally wishes no bad blood between our houses. We would offer you Baela, but if you would prefer Rhaena, that is a suitable request.”

Rhaenys turns from the younger woman fully, away from her beseeching eyes begging a forgiveness Rhaenys has no intention of imparting, away from impossible decisions and further heartache. The moon has risen high enough not to be seen, its twin still rippling across the lapping waves. She twists a hand hidden into the fabric of her shawl, clenching tight, the other draping across trembling lips.

“I won’t have this conversation tonight,” she murmurs, and it’s a dismissal Rhaenyra takes in stride, inclining her head at the edge of Rhaenys’ vision and stepping back.

“Then I take my leave. Goodnight, Princess.”

Rhaenys doesn’t respond, does not trust herself to do so cordially. The stars are lost behind the clouds; the moon gives way to the dawn and she tracks its disappearance on the water, as the waves deepen and the sky lightens and the gulls descend from their nests. She feels as though she would buckle under the weight of exhaustion, but still, she does not sleep.

~

The absence of choice is still a choice, and Rhaenys is not afforded the option of the one she wants to make. Her heart is no less heavy for it, but she faces the loss of both granddaughters, when she could yet have one. She can’t suffer to watch them go, either of them, and she would have both, but she won’t have none. She is selfish in her grief, complicit in the heartbreak of split sisters: she is the direct cause of their pain, and it pains her to know it, but she cannot suffer another loss, even one as impermanent as this. She presses thin lips into a thinner line, suppresses a sneer at the stoic father who pats heads and tuts softly and makes false promises of visits and letters that have no reason not to find their way across the narrow sea, but won’t anyhow.

“I would keep you both if I could,” she is quick to assure, gentle hands on youthful cheeks damp with tears she can’t wipe away fast enough. It is Rhaena’s hand she must kiss and release; Baela clings to her grandmother with a desperation Rhaenys feels in her soul, a childish but well-founded fear that she too might find herself ripped from her remaining family, perhaps flung into the sea after her mother, cast away and set adrift. It’s a cruelty Rhaenys would prefer no child to know, but has now known thrice.

Corlys�� hand is a steady weight on her shoulder, a silent display of solidarity, and only once the trundling caravan is out of sight does Rhaenys shrug it off and turn from the hurt that she knows creases his brow. There are too many spoken and unspoken things between them for the comfort that hand offers to truly reach her. Her steps are heavy with emotional fatigue and slowed by the child refusing to release her. Rhaenys isn’t in any hurry to let her go either, so it’s on lethargic, weighted strides that grandmother and granddaughter return to High Tide. The castle looms far larger and darker than Rhaenys remembers in all her years there; its halls are oppressive in their silence, rooms made emptier by the people that have vacated them ahead of their time. Rhaenys leads them clear of the main hall. The day will come when she can step within it again, look upon the hearth without seeing the body of her son, without smelling the acrid, burning stench of death she sometimes believes still clings to her hair, her clothing, her skin… but it is not this day. This day she reserves for herself and her granddaughter, to attempt to ease the burden of loss and separation they both feel as viscerally as the beat of their own hearts.

Baela is listless, and Rhaenys doesn’t feel much better, but there is a quiet strength that invades her senses, hums through her veins at the absence of it in others, the same quiet strength Corlys held when Rhaenys’ own had failed in the wake of her father’s death. She casts a glance to her husband who has been silent sentry to their retreat, and catches him looking back. She is quick to turn away: she has no strength to spare for that confrontation, not yet. She has greater priorities than wounded pride and hurt feelings.

She halts the prodding progress of her granddaughter, kneeling to once more wipe those pesky, persistent tears she herself lacks the energy to shed. The smile she offers is brittle and sad, but it coaxes one in return from a child desperate for love and approval, for reassurances and guidance from those who should have it to give. Rhaenys caresses a face so like that of her late daughter with a reverence she is not ashamed of. She knows all too well now the fleeting cruelty of this mortal life.

“Oh my dear, darling girl,” she murmurs, “What’s to be done about your tears?”

“Nothing,” is the despondent response, and it is spoken with such melancholy and woe Rhaenys feels herself torn between immeasurable grief that so young a heart should bear the weight of such sorrow, and fond melancholy for the stubbornness of children, inherited from her mother and grandmother before her, that had once seen Laena herself refusing all dragon hatchlings, determined that her mount should and would be Vhagar.

“It cannot be ‘nothing,’” Rhaenys insists, “For even the heaviest of hearts can be lightened with time.”

“I don’t want time,” Baela’s misery borders on the petulant, “I want my mother- my family.”

She breaks anew and Rhaenys gathers her nearer, her own eyes stinging with loss; she closes them against it, draws up from that well of internal strength to quiet her own sadness and reassure the girl wrapped tight in her arms.

“Your family is here, no matter the seas or eternity that might divide us, your family is with you, always.”

“What if you leave me too?” Baela whispers into her grandmother’s ear and Rhaenys fights even harder against the emotion clawing its way up her throat, cradling her granddaughter as close as she can. “You cannot know if you will,” Baela continues, “You cannot promise you won’t.”

And no, she cannot, so Rhaenys doesn’t try. She feels helpless and adrift in her choice of response for she cannot answer with what she knows to be false, nor does she dare to give the heartbreaking truth they both know. Instead she releases the girl in her arms to smooth snowy locks from her face, and the smile she gives now holds more hope of recovery than the last.

“Perhaps we’ll make a visit to Moondancer?”

“No,” Baela wipes despondently at her own tears this time, and Rhaenys reaches in the folds of her gown for a handkerchief before her leaking nose suffers a similar fate.

“No?” Rhaenys echoes, “Perhaps to see Meleys then. I’m sure she would welcome your company.”

“The Red Queen,” Baela murmurs with an awe that will forever bring a true smile to Rhaenys’ face. The title is only part of the little girl’s reverence: Baela’s own dragon is still a hatchling, too small to bear a rider, so aside from the might of Vhagar, Meleys has always garnered such a reaction from her rider’s granddaughters not only because of her sheer size, but because she is a legend in her own right, and Rhaenys herself for taming her.

“Perhaps we might coax her to fly,” Rhaenys goads, wiping the last of the slowing tears from eyes that shine with excitement beneath the lingering sorrow. Meleys has grown increasingly languid in recent years, but Rhaenys has little worry the dragon might deny her this request. There isn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her mistress, when called.

Those remaining tears of grief give way to those that stream in the wind, and even as the weight still settles solidly about them like a shroud, it eases and lifts the higher they climb. Rhaenys would chase that feeling forever, if the air did not grow too thin in her lungs. Still, it is a tempting thought, to stay forever above it all, where mourning is not a constant companion and even the Stranger’s long arms, it feels, cannot reach. Eventually, they will have to land, but Rhaenys will cling to that feeling a little longer, just a moment, a fleeting, tremulous moment. The sun warms their faces and their souls and Baela smiles, without weariness, safe in her grandmother’s arms as Rhaenys directs Meleys through the skies with barely a need to steer. Dragon and rider have flown as one for so long now it’s instinctual that Meleys should follow Rhaenys’ lead with only the lightest of tugs on the reins, the barest of pressure on her scaled flank.

The Red Queen banks left, drifting through a copse of clouds Baela reaches a hand to touch, Rhaenys’ arm secure around her waist. They drop lower, close enough to the surface of the ocean that Meleys’ great form ripples crimson on the reflection of the waves; unbidden the dragon leans to dip a wing beneath the surf, throwing it up in an arc above their heads, dampening their clothing and chilling their faces. The sun’s rays are quick to warm and dry them and it glints off the sea spray like a thousand glittering jewels, a rare moment of levity and light Rhaenys is loathe to have end. Meleys dips her opposite wing into the surf and rumbles low in her throat in a silent question Rhaenys knows the answer to. She tightens her hold on the reins with one hand in response, the other gripping tight around Baela’s middle, legs tensing in preparation astride the saddle. To Baela, she grins, speaking close in her ear, “Hold tight!”

To Meleys, she calls above the winds, “Sōvēs Meleys!”

The dragon gives a low, pleased grumble, surging up with a powerful thrust of wings -once, twice- higher into the air before tucking them in close and diving, twisting over and upended in a barrel roll too quickly for either rider to fear being dropped. It never fails to send Rhaenys’ stomach into her throat in a way that makes her feel younger at heart than true age would grant. Meleys pulls out of the roll and unfurls her wings to their full width, catching the wind again to coast above the waves. Baela shrieks with glee and Rhaenys’ grin threatens to spread wide across lips that have too recently been consumed by sorrow. It has been too long since she last flew with company, not since her own children were Baela’s age, for Corlys, a prince of the sea and sand, is none too fond of heights and the thin air they bring. He is also convinced of Meleys’ distaste for him, and Raenys likes to tease that she has a taste for him, which Meleys herself does not dispute nor indeed help, snapping at his heels when the chance is afforded like an ornery hound. Corlys would rage and Meleys would preen, and all the while Rhaenys would find herself weak with laughter and half-hearted admonishments for her playful beast.

The reminder of her husband, and the rift that stretches between them, unbridged and uncrossed, does dampen Rhaenys’ spirits, but only just. The rift has yet to heal but that doesn’t mean it will not: the wound is fresh, the pain cloying and clinging. Words have been said and actions done by two grieving, hard-headed people liable to say and do much worse if they attempt a reconciliation before either has calmed their heads and tempered their hearts. It must be soon: the second war in the Stepstones looms nearer, darkens their doorstep with the promise of further death and bloodshed to come. She cannot bear the thought that he should leave while things are left unsaid, knowing how they might remain unsaid, regardless of any care that is taken between them.

She is drawn from her melancholy musings by the child in her arms, her lifted spirits not having faded despite the darkening of Rhaenys’ own thoughts.

“Can I say it?”

She has to yell to be heard over the wind, and Rhaenys banishes her negative ponderings for a later time when she doesn’t have the privilege of her granddaughter’s company and attention.

“Together.”

Rhaenys gives a warning pressure with her heels so Meleys is already rearing back her great head as grandmother and granddaughter shout above the wind:

“Dracarys!”

~

Rhaenys removes the leather bracers with fingers stiff with wind burn and age. It’s been some time she since last flew for so long; she feels the ache in her joints and muscles that will fade to dull soreness come the morrow, but the pain is good, cleansing, for her body and soul. It’s grounding, a reminder, as Rhaenyra had said, that life goes on, that it can. The grief lingers but she is made lighter; she thinks nothing of greeting Corlys when he steps into their sitting room, a space they have not occupied together in some time.

“We’re having cake for dinner,” she reports, unwinding the plaiting woven into her hair, “And roast, if we feel like it. Baela thought we might have a picnic on the shore, as we’ve done in years past. She cannot remember the last time, but then the twins were only three.”

Her mind stutters a moment on the thought that their party will be incomplete in more ways than one, fingers stilling in her hair, but she is determined that her good mood should persist, if not for her sake, than for Baela’s. She returns to the remaining braids with renewed vigor.

“It brings me great joy to see my lady wife so at ease,” Corlys responds neutrally, a testing of waters between them neither wants to probe too forcefully.

“Yes,” Rhaenys sets the gloves on the vanity, reaching for the whale bone comb to coax through the knots and tangles brought on by the wind. “If only for a fleeting moment.”

Warm, calloused hands take the comb from her own, smoothing the loose wisps from her face.

“Let me.”

Rhaenys turns without a word, and only the briefest of hesitations, folding her arms carefully over herself as he cards gentle fingers through her hair to tame the easier snarls before following through with the comb. Neither speaks, for a moment, and Rhaenys eases the tension in her shoulders with each pass from roots to ends. The motion is soothing, as soothing as the man performing it. She’s missed this, this intimacy, this vulnerability, a closeness that feels as natural to her as breathing, as flying. If she is what calls his wandering soul back from the sea, it is he that brings her restless soul down from the clouds.

The tool is discarded and his fingers return, not combing, only caressing, draping the strands like a cascade of ivory silk down her back. He sweeps her hair aside at the base of her neck to press a kiss to the exposed skin, hands coming to rest on her shoulders, a solid warmth she can’t help but lean into, reaching for his hands when they snake around her shoulders, her back against his chest. Both are silent, relishing in the quiet comfort of one another and the trickling refilling of the void that’s stretched between them.

“I’ve missed you,” Corlys murmurs and Rhaenys’ lips twitch; she tilts her head to look at him.

“And I you.”

She turns in his arms so they slide to her waist, her own resting against his broad chest. She longs to be closer, to banish any semblance of a gap between them emotionally, physically, but she is hesitant, and her pride demands retribution for his earlier callousness, for his dismissal of her feelings is not so easily cast aside without making amends. Still, her shoulders ache with the chill of the neglect she’s been showing him, at such a time that they should have come together, not pushed each other away.

“Will you join us?” She murmurs, and the grin that splits her husband’s face is overwhelmed with relief, for it was never in doubt that she missed him, but that doesn’t mean she wishes to be in his company. This isn’t the first quarrel between them, and not likely to be the last: he knows by now she isn’t so easily won over with defeatist looks and gentle handling.

“If you’ll have me.”

“We would,” Rhaenys locks their gazes, the barest of smiles upon her own lips. For amends to be made they must both make the effort and though an apology she expects, she won’t push for it now. She can, however, extend the opportunity, “And perhaps you would rejoin me tonight?”

Corlys’ grin softens; his hands trail up to cup her face, “There is nothing I’d like more.”

~

“Wash for bed, I’ll be by to tuck you in shortly,” Rhaenys taps Baela playfully on the nose and the girl grins, her melancholy eased, if only for the day. It will take time, and the progress will be slow, but there will come a day when their smiles will always come easier, their laughs brighter, their hearts lighter. There will come a day when Rhaenys will look upon Baela and not see her dear Laena, when she will think fondly of the pride her daughter would have, and not with grief over missing the chance to see it herself. Tonight is a well-made step forward to healing; Rhaenys will not suffer a setback this early by tarnishing it with negative thoughts. She has a husband to speak with and a granddaughter to attend to.

“I mean to put Baela to bed,” she says in lieu of greeting; the grand oak door closes quietly with her weight pressed against it. Corlys lounges in the chair by the fire, his gaze distant and clearly thoughts elsewhere. He comes back to himself to return her words with a small grin.

“I thought we might talk, afterwards,” Rhaenys adds, crossing to the vanity, tugging her rings from her hands. She doesn’t have to contend with velvet and embroidery this evening; it hadn’t made sense to don such a gown for a picnic on the sand, and she was right to wear the looser trousers that can be easily rolled above the knees, for the surf is not yet too cold that Baela hadn’t wished to run through it with her grandmother close at hand. Corlys had stayed ashore, quite surprisingly, watching them with a smile that might’ve wept with the nostalgia of their own children behaving similarly.

“I think we must,” Corlys straightens in the chair, hands clasped between his knees. She dearly hopes they can put the matter to bed before they return to their own; she hasn’t felt the desire for his company as of late, but she misses it all the same. She finds no comfort in his absence, no solace in the empty side of his bed even as she’d rejected his return to it, again and again. She intends to speak her truth to him, for she has no qualms of him knowing it, but he speaks before she can.

“Rhaenys,” and there’s a cautious sort of warning in her husband’s tone, one that fills her with a rising sense of dread she can’t place. It’s the same tone he adopts when he knows she won’t like what he has to say, but he expects she’ll be difficult. It’s almost a precursive placation for a rage he knows to expect, which more often than not fills her with rage prematurely. “I know that Baela’s presence brings you comfort and I am glad of it, truly, hopelessly and utterly. It brings me similar joy to have her close. But I must be sure… I must be clear, that my intentions for the succession of Driftmark will not change, even now she is our ward.”

She drops her rings one by one onto the waiting dish, the heavy plink of metal on porcelain filling the silence between them. The breath she draws in is far more stable than she’s expecting; her hands grip the back of the chair beside the vanity, knuckles white against the dark wood. Her composure hangs desperately by a thread: she could laugh with the exhaustion of maintaining it, humorless and cold, for it feels as though she isn’t long in another emotion before anger or despair are quick to fight for their right to return.

“That is the topic you wish to indulge in,” she begins carefully, “So am I to assume that’s why you’re here, not to apologize, but to harp on again about that damned succession.”

“I would offer you a thousand apologies, my love, but do not twist my meaning, and do not pretend the thought hasn’t crossed your mind that you might change mine,” Corlys rises from the chair to stand at her side; she doesn’t look at him. “I didn’t come here to quarrel any further-”

“And yet you have found one,” she pulls away from him, creating distance so she might level their gazes. He doesn’t have very much on her in height, but she won’t suffer to be looked down on right now, “How can you dare to think I would leverage our granddaughter’s presence against you?”

“How can I not think it,” Corlys defends, moving to follow her, but Rhaenys clicks her tongue in disapproval, turning away to cross from him and closer to the door. Corlys is forced to raise his tone in the space she creates, “When it is the last thing we spoke of! You would deny our grandson his title by right-”

The term rips a huff of disbelief from her lips, and she tips her head, pinning him with a gaze rife with condescension, her own tone rising with an exasperation too-long ignored.

“Corlys for the gods’ sake- he is no more related to you than Alicent Hightower! I trust our son when he says that they tried to perform their marital duties but you know as well as I Rhaenyra was not to Laenor’s taste.”

“You talk of it like a choice-”

“It is not a choice Corlys that is the point!” Her hand makes violent contact with the back of the settee she has stepped behind, separating them further. She chews at her cheek; her gaze lowers into almost a glare, “Our son is- was, different. He did not prefer the company of women, he preferred the company of men. He would bed a man as most would bed a woman and refusing to see it does not stop it from making it true.”

Her hard tone has Corlys working his jaw silently, furiously, for a moment; his own tone is tight and reluctant.

“Fine. I acquiesce. Our son was not… as he should be-” and at Rhaenys’ scoff his is quick to continue “-though that doesn’t mean I love him any less! But it is one thing, Rhaenys, to make a claim of his preferences,” he makes to approach, his own hand settling on the back of the settee but she is quicker, retreating closer to the door and his exasperation bleeds into his words, “It is entirely another to claim his sons are not his own!”

“You have seen them!” And Rhaenys sweeps a hand away from her in emphasis, “You cannot bury your head in the sand this deeply Corlys, or you risk your own suffocation! I will not push the issue with my cousin, but those boys are not Velaryons.”

Corlys leans forward conspiratorially, his words a hiss under his breath, “You know your words would be taken for treason-”

Rhaenys barks a humorless laugh, “And do you mean to betray me, lord husband? To speak my truths beyond these walls to the vultures circling overhead?”

Corlys’ expression turns stricken, “No, never. But we have discussed this Rhaenys, ad nauseum. The pursuit of legacy cares little for blood- it is names that history will remember!”

“Your pursuit of legacy has become a pursuit of fucking MISERY!” And the word is torn from her throat in a shaking, wretched wail that leaves so piercing a silence her ears ring with it. She stands at the base of the creaking floodgates but still, she cannot afford to let them buckle just yet. Her hands come to grip at her elbows; she stands on the precipice, and she stands alone.

Corlys doesn’t break the ringing silence, but he does reach for her. Rhaenys turns from him, pressing trembling lips tightly together, “Tonight when you retire… you should return to the dressing room.”

“Rhaenys, please-”

"I have no more children left to bury, Corlys,” and as before with Rhaenyra, her rage has sapped her strength and left her feeling weak with the effort of it, “I tremble at the thought of what your 'legacy' might take from me next."

“You will excuse me,” she continues softly, steps completely out of range of her husband, refusing to meet his troubled gaze, “Our granddaughter is waiting.”

She sweeps from the room before he can chance a reply.

~

The wind is biting, stinging the exposed skin of her cheeks and fingers until they’re stiff with cold. Meleys drives them fiercely through the air until the ground rushes beneath them too quickly to be focused on. It’s not enough. She tugs on the reins harder than necessary, ignoring Meleys’ rumble of displeasure at the rough treatment.

“Sōvēs Meleys! Sōvēs!”

The dragon roars her frustration at the command but listens, surging higher and higher into the air almost perpendicular to the ground, until Rhaenys is gasping for breath from the thin air and not her choking tears. Meleys beats her wings to keep aloft, stirring the clouds into a frenzy. Rhaenys presses a hand solidly to her frigid cheeks as though she can physically will away the pressure building behind her eyes. It builds and builds and she’s helpless to fight it but she must, she must try. She cannot break, she will not break, she hasn’t since discovering Laenor, her little boy-

“Sōvēs Meleys! Sōvēs! Sōvēs!”

She digs her heels into the dragon’s flank; the Red Queen returns to flight, drifting through the clouds at a pace that does nothing to quell the pain Rhaenys desperately wants to numb. She wants to hear nothing but the roaring wind in her ears, feeling nothing but the sting of cold, thin air on her skin and in her lungs. Rhaenys tugs the reins again, but Meleys doesn’t increase their speed. She lowers further through the clouds, almost lazy in her trajectory. An island, small and no more than a scrap of sand and wind-stunted trees appears below them.

“Sōvēs Meleys, listen to me you great foolish beast-”

Meleys tosses her head, offended, and beats her wings to speed up only enough that when they reach the island to land, Rhaenys isn’t prepared, and Meleys takes advantage. The dragon rolls, stirring up clouds of sand and tossing her rider lightly from her back to land in it. She’s cushioned well enough, only her pride wounded for so ungraceful a landing, but it’s still with cold fury that Rhaenys gets to her feet to address the great winged beast eyeing her as a lazy hound before a warm fire.

Rhaenys marches around to remount, but Meleys rolls to her side, away from her, in so petulant a move it might have coaxed a grin and a startled laugh from Rhaenys any other time. Rhaenys grinds her teeth and moves to the opposite side -again, Meleys rolls away from her, single golden eye watching her neutrally. The dragon knows she’s disobeying her mistress, knows the distress she’s in, and chooses to bully her anyway. It has the emotion Rhaenys has fought so hard to keep down rising dangerously high in her throat.

“Meleys, enough!”

She reaches for the base of the saddle, knowing she has no hope of moving the dragon if she doesn’t wish to move, but making her intentions clear. Meleys does not, indeed, move, and Rhaenys shoves at her crimson flank in desperation. She cannot linger here, she cannot allow her idle thoughts and feelings to find her, not here, not now.

“Meleys please-!”

The Red Queen lifts her head high above her mistress’ and Rhaenys is forced to stumble back, believing, for a moment, she’s finally gotten through, but instead she finds herself unbalanced when a great red snout is pushed gently into her chest. She lands solidly on her backside, and Meleys folds her wings at her side, a clear indication she doesn’t mean to return to the air untils she is satisfied.

It’s too much. Everything, all at once, it breaks upon her head like a wave, drowning her senses and overwhelming her defenses. She hasn’t the strength to get up, sat in the sand with an ornery, disobedient dragon for company and what is it that awaits her at home? A husband who believes her to have used her political savvy to wager their granddaughter against him, a granddaughter who may yet come to resent her grandmother for tearing her from her twin, and empty chairs at empty tables where her children will sit no more. She will never hear their voices, their laughter, will never again soothe their tears, will not share in the joy of the milestones their children will enjoy without them. She will never hold their hands, kiss their cheeks- it is they who should weep with her loss, it is they who should be shrouded at her funeral, it is not she, not she who should suffer through life with their deaths-

No parent should have to bury their child.

The gasping breaths come first, the tears quick to follow, and once they begin they refuse to be stemmed; Rhaenys buries her face in her knees, digs her fingers into her arms, cries silently, brokenly, until she thinks she might grow ill with the force of her grief. Her tears turn to sobs, guttural wails and such great, heaving breaths she feels she might choke on them.

Rhaenys may cry for minutes, it may be hours; when she is sure her mistress won’t demand to return to the skies, Meleys moves through the sand to lie closer, setting her head within reach like a great hound in the lap of its master. Rhaenys turns into her, holds tight where she can reach and though dragon scales offer no helpful blotting of the tears that pour ceaselessly down her cheeks, the comfort given is welcome.

Nothing changes. Her children do not once more draw breath, she does not find both granddaughters in her care. Her husband does not return that night to their chambers, the war of the Stepstones does not cease its progression, and amends are not made by the time his ship departs their shores. Her grief is not lessened but it is made lighter with the relief of some of her sorrow. And though it is not, in the grand scheme, enough…

For now, it must be.

[cupidford]

Hi Cupid!! Do you have any johnlock smut fic recs where sherlock is really timid and inexperienced and John helps guide him through it? Thanks!

Hullo!

You probably asked me this ages ago....

I've not archived the fics I've read for a few months, but here are just a few inexperienced/virgin Sherlock fics I've noted down :)...I mean there's so many and I know I'm missing key ones, so anyone wanna pitch in?

A Study in Intimacy by doodle

People don't touch Sherlock Holmes, not like they touch other people. Then he meets John Watson. So soft. Touches & kisses.

Closer by FinAmour

In which John teaches Sherlock about human touch.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound

Sherlock simply tells John he loves him one day. Suffering with PTSD, alcoholism, internalized homophobia, trust issues and more, it takes John a bit longer to reply.

What He's Like by magikspell

Realistic first time. They love each other so much.

It's You by WhimsicalEthnographies

The two idiots finally get it on. Sherlock's a baby virgin who has no idea what hes doing, and John really doesn't either but it's ok.

Into the Dark by bittergreens

When Lestrade calls John and Sherlock in to help arrest the ringleader of a notorious dog fighting syndicate, things don’t go according to plan.

Untouched by 221b_hound

Three days post-'Unkissed', and Sherlock and John explore a little more of how their relationship works on the physical side.

Isosceles by SilentAuror

Sherlock is asked out by a huge celebrity. John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Dr. John H. Watson, Sexual Surrogate by smurff

After several men who have visited a surrogate go missing, Sherlock goes undercover and makes an appointment to see Dr. John Watson, Sexual Surrogate.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 3 – STUCKY FAVORITES

Life of the Party by AggressiveWhenStartled

Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: E Words: 21,689 Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Love at First Sight, Awkward Dates

Summary: “You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off. “I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended. “You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

Reasons why I love it: This fic is so many things – sweet, charming, awkward, funny, wonderful, spectacular, ermergerddd so lovely! Their characterizations are perfect, and all the other Avengers' voices are incredible too. This fic always puts a huge smile on my face, no matter how shitty of a day I'm having. So if you like sunshine in a cup, definitely read this one!

Treasured by Dira Sudis (dsudis), Sealcat

Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: M Words: 24,609 Tags: Dragon Bucky, Virgin Steve, Interspecies Relationship

Summary: When everyone in town became convinced that a dragon really had come again to the Old Lair, and that the town would have to offer it tribute, they all looked at Steve. Honestly, he was relieved.

Reasons why I love it: Dragon Bucky has my entire heart. I love how their miscommunication in the beginning makes them start off on the wrong foot, only for them to slowly grow closer in a really believable way. Plus, the smut in this is absolutely scorching (no pun intended), and the ways their relationship develops are as precious as they are hot. So yeah, this fic is incredible and definitely worth a read!

Secondhand Source by elise_509

Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: E Words: 17,381 Tags: Pre-Serum Steve, Voyeurism, Internalized Homophobia

Summary: Bucky has twisted their friendship into this strange, dangerous thing without Steve’s knowledge or consent. He should stop before it’s too late, but as long as Steve keeps bringing men home, Bucky can’t.

Reasons why I love it: Ugh, this one hurts SO GOOD!! Bucky's internal conflict over not just his own urges but over his jealousy is so heart-breaking, no matter how many times I read it. And poor Steve, ack, this just gives me all the angst I could ever want with a really satisfying resolution. Plus, the smut is hot as hell, so that's the cherry on top. I love this fic to pieces, so please go and give it some love!

[pridepages]

Gallows Humor: The Comedienne’s Guide to Pride

I just finished The Comedienne’s Guide to Pride by Hayli Thomson. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

In a time is love isn’t love and pride is sliding closer to protest than parade, I wanted to have a month where I immersed myself in queer joy. So what better time to read Hayli Thomson’s The Comedienne’s Guide to Pride? The novel was pitched as the tale of an aspiring funny girl who finds herself in the wacky situation of being chosen as a finalist for a diversity internship at SNL...but hasn’t come out to anyone yet. The tone felt absurd: funny ha-ha.

That is...not what I got.

Our heroine, Taylor, is an open wound. From tearing up a defaced Ghostbusters reboot poster because of a slur to ripping into herself in self-disgust for masturbating to Fried Green Tomatoes, every page of this novel howls with her pain. 

Which isn’t to say there aren’t jokes. Describing her questioning period, Taylor snarks “my sexuality was still Amelia Earhart-themed--I had no idea where it was going to end up.” The experience of falling in love was watching her crush play a Salem witch and feeling her “phantom touch...reaching all the way to the back row of the theater and strangling the lingering breath of heteronormativity right out of me.” 

Spot the pattern in her jokes? they’re perfect examples of gallows humor: jokes used as a defense mechanism because everything is so horrible that the only way to cope with the pain is to find something absurd to numb the pain. There’s a reason old-fashioned anesthetic was called ‘laughing gas.’

Rather than being notable for its humor, novel’s at its sharpest, its most viscerally impactful, when Taylor speaks directly about her suffering.

When she yearns for romance “self-loathing took me by the throat.” Describing her experience of being closeted, she says she’s “constantly tearing at the seams...If you’re lucky, you get a few miserable, desolate moments to pull yourself back together...You hope that the seam won’t split further. You hope everybody will buy what you’re selling--that you’re totally fine.” But she isn’t simply hiding from homophobia. She’s also busy internalizing it: “soaking in shame and self-hatred for so long that my heart had turned prune-y...Hating myself for who I was and who I loved was the only was I knew how to adapt...Shaming myself was the only way I could grip the seawalls without floating away.”

If the reader is hoping for some relief when Taylor finally, inevitably, comes out...well, prepare for disappointment. This is no Love, Simon fantasy. Her experience is closer to what most of us find in the beginning...especially if we live in a less accepting environment:

“Coming out wasn’t quite sugary sweet. It tasted like lemon icing when you’d been expecting vanilla. It felt like racing toward a crossing and skidding to a stop at the exact moment the walk signal turned red--you had no choice but to pause and watch the traffic move around you. But there was the promise of that green light to come, and that just had to be enough.”

In a way, Thomson’s brutal honesty makes this novel a timely wake-up call to that person who thinks that being gay in 2023 is ‘no big deal.’ The kind of read you hand to the ignorant friend who rolls their eyes at the idea that we ‘need a whole month’ to ‘celebrate what we do in the bedroom.’ 

But me? Even if it’s naive, I think I’d rather step off that gallows and immerse myself in unfettered joy. Even if--for now--it’s just a fantasy.

[0lig4tor]

The Fight For Life Ch.2

Summary: The segregation of vampires and humans has been going on for years, no one can even recall when they didn’t have these rules set in place. The vampires accepted this way of life because in return they were given the chance to live peacefully even when most found their existence unsuitable for this world. Until two boys, and their group of followers decide to fight back against the ruler's law in hopes they can change the very world for millions. Maverick, a human, and Raul, his vampire friend, fight for life against the only thing that keeps them apart.

Warnings:

Blood, Homophobia, Transphobia, Ableism, Racism, Slurs(that we can say), Cursing, Vampires??? idk, Cult, Mention of Serial Killers(real and fake), Death, uhh idk

All The Chapters

Made By: Me🐊 & @squ1dk1d 🦑

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Raul’s POV (Ch.2)

We jumped out of our skins when we heard a noise from the trees. We all looked at each other scared shitless.

“What the fuck was that!” Sally whisper yells while stepping closer to us. Maverick signed “Shut up” to Sally. After a while we all agreed that we should check where the noise came from.

We all went separate ways but tried to stay close. I weaved between trees with what felt like a thousand branches.

I heard the noise again, the hairs on the back of my neck rose in fear. I looked around to see what it was,nothing but trees. After a while I felt a pain in my neck followed by a hand on my mouth. I tried to see who or what was behind me but all I saw was a pale face attached to my neck. Before I could do anything the world around me started to fade to black. I tried to call out to Maverick but nothing came out, my throat felt dry and it clenched together closing off my air way.

The woods around me turned pitch black.

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December 13th, 2022 4:30 A.M.

2 Days After Raul’s Disappearance…

My head hurts like hell. ‘What happened?’ I wondered. I sit up from my laying position feeling extremely exhausted and lightheaded. ‘Where am I?’ I thought as I looked around. I looked down at my body noticing that I was way paler than usual? Suddenly a sharp pain surged from my neck to the rest of my body.I put my hand on my neck, applying pressure hoping the pain would subside.

I had no pulse…

Why don’t I have a pulse? Am I dead? Then I remembered, pale lips wrapping around my neck, the feeling of loss taking my body, the sharp teeth that grazed my skin slightly before aggressively biting down like a starving dog scarfing down its food.

A Vampire.

I got bit by a vampire. I yelled a line of curse words before going silent. I don't know why I'm yelling. No one can hear me, I wish someone could hear me.

“Maverick!? Sal?! Kiva?!” I yelled the name of my friends for almost an hour and each time it echoed throughout the woods. “Maverick?…” I called once last time. My throat was sore from all the yelling, causing me to sound hoarse and sick.

I tried standing up but immediately fell back down, I felt so weak, and so, so hungry. I was starving, not for normal food humans would eat, it was the very thing that flowed through most life on earth.

Blood.

I was craving blood. ”What the hell do I do??” I said to myself, before noticing a rabbit hopping close by, it was like some god heard me. ’Oh god am I really about to do this?…’ I questioned myself. The rabbit hopped closer to me. “I’m so sorry little dude..” I apologized like the rabbit could understand the words coming out of my mouth.

I reached my arm out before hesitantly grabbing a rock that was on the ground near me. “I’m really about to do this,” I mumbled under my breath. I closed my eyes, raised the rock above my head, and hit it off the rabbit’s head. I opened one eye, seeing if I actually did it. “Oh my god I hate this so much,” I said, cringing at the dead corpse in front of me.

I picked up the poor rabbit. “Holy shit this is crazy!” ,yelling at myself. “This is crazy. This is crazy. This is Crazy.” I repeated it over and over and over again. Looking at the corpse in my hands, mouth watering. I bring the rabbit to my mouth, taking a deep breath. Opening my mouth I sink my teeth into the rabbit creating two holes.

‘Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.’ I said repeatedly in my mind. Sucking the rabbit's blood to fuel my hunger, the thick liquid tasted metallic, and disgusting. When I was full, I threw the rabbit on the ground next to the rock. I covered my mouth with my shaking, blood soaked hand as it muffled my words, the shock and pain evident with the rumbling in my words. “What did I just do?”

I stood up from my recent position, my head slowly stopped pounding as hunger faded. Looking at my hands my heart starts to ache if it was still beating, alive. Thoughts race through my head, my eyes start to shake, my body shakes, everything feels wrong.

My body basically moved by itself as I started running, way faster than before. My eyes were shut tight as I ran, the night, winter wind pushing against my inhuman movements. Strands of white hair flow behind me as I run toward the only place I could think of, the one person I knew would understand, and be there for me forever.

As soon as I reached the house I ran climbing up the side of the house to the second floor. I check to see if the window was unlocked and shake my head, he never locks his window. Sliding the window open I slide into his room and look around for him.

I creep around quietly before hearing a faint, torn voice. “Raul..?”

I turn meeting eyes with Maverick in the process. As he stares at me in shock his eyes feel with tears, threatening to burst out. Before I could speak his arms wrapped around my waist, his face in my chest as he cried all of his built up sadness away into my shirt.

I wrap my arms around him, placing my chin onto his head before closing my eyes and letting this moment sink in. “You were gone for two days.. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” He sobs more before pulling away and looking up at me. Snot ran from his nose which was red along with his eyes that were extremely puffy.

The dark circles under his eyes told me he was having trouble sleeping. As I examine his face and body I notice the look of sadness fade into anger. His hands meet my chest as he continues to punch me while yelling.

His hands laid on my chest while his head went to rest above them. He gave me no room to talk to him, but just being around him was enough, no talking was needed. His presence was enough to make me feel safe and comfortable.

His hands slowly made their way to holding my waist while his head remained in the same spot. “I missed you, you big Q-tip.” Even though his voice was muffled by his already broken voice and my shirt I heard every last word.

I tore him off of me holding his shoulders, “Maverick I’m

Not me anymore..” the thought broke me, I mean I literally killed a rabbit, how am I going to do this. He chuckled in response before backing up and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, I totally didn’t notice you climbing up my two story house and coming in through the window and your even paler, purplish complexion and cold skin.” He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes before stepping forward pushing the top of my shirt down, revealing my neck. “Not to mention that bite mark on your neck and the blood on your hands. I mean seriously Raul you aren’t even trying to hide it.”

“I- uhh, I guess you’re right.” I give a soft awkward chuckle, subconsciously rubbing the back of my neck. “So uhh you’re cool with having a vampire in your house? I mean isn’t everyone afraid of them?”

“Raul I’m honestly shocked right now, but not at the fact you're a vampire at the fact you’d ever think I’d be afraid of a vampire.” He steps forward giving my forehead a flick before stepping back and putting his hands on his hips. “We’ve been friends for years. How do you not know I like vampires?” He huffs at me before looking me up and down.

“I know I’m sorry maverick I just can’t think straight right now.” I basically start crying and shaking as I speak about the experiences I had when I first woke up. He comforted me as I spoke and came clean about everything, how I went missing, where I woke up, the feelings I was having, that poor rabbit, I mean I left nothing out.

I ended up at the end of the bed sitting with my legs hanging off while he stayed standing. “Raul, what happened wasn’t your fault you weren’t in control hunger drove you. I know it won’t help much but you can stay here and I can help you figure out your new self before you go back to school.” He suggested making me feel a little bit better.

I hug him with my head laying right at his waist. Just the feeling of having him around helps me so much. “Okay I’ll stay, but what about your dad?” I ask, feeling worried.

He chuckles patting me on the head, “ he’s never at home throughout the day all we have to worry about is at night since he comes in my room to “check” on me.” He said putting quotations around the word check with his fingers. He ruffles my hair causing me to pull away and look up at him.

He looks me in the eye before looking down at my lip and back to my other eyes.

‘what the fuck did he just do that one triangle thing on me!?’

His body gracefully got closer to mine, making him stand in between my legs. “Mave?” I muttered out, my face was rapidly gaining color with the close proximity. I have no idea how this is any different to me getting super close to him but, woah.

No words were spoken as he moved his head closer to mine and gently laid his hands on my cheeks. He smirked and suddenly pushed my head back forcefully, getting super close.

“Now that all the sappy stuff is over, let me see those teeth!”

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A/N: sorry this took so long to post a lot of stuff has happened and its been hard on our mental health but Chapter 2 is out :] -🐊

[badassbutterfly1987]

Ash by Malinda Lo review

Summary: In the wake of her father's death, Ash is left at the mercy of her cruel stepmother. Consumed with grief, her only joy comes by the light of the dying hearth fire, rereading the fairy tales her mother once told her. In her dreams, someday the fairies will steal her away, as they are said to do. When she meets the dark and dangerous fairy Sidhean, she believes that her wish may be granted.

The day that Ash meets Kaisa, the King's Huntress, her heart begins to change. Instead of chasing fairies, Ash learns to hunt with Kaisa. Though their friendship is as delicate as a new bloom, it reawakens Ash's capacity for love-and her desire to live. But Sidhean has already claimed Ash for his own, and she must make a choice between fairy tale dreams and true love.

I like the premise. I wish I liked the actual story better. It has the right bones but ultimately didn't click with me beyond the first third and part of that is that I'm not sure what the book is trying to be about. Is it a character study? Is it a love triangle? Is it about the main character overcoming institutional sexism, homophobia, or class differences? There's pieces of all of that but no depth and little vibrancy. Kaisa as the main love interest has some sweet interactions with Ash but that's about it. Sidhean has more presence by virtue of being a mysterious fairy with uncertain motives but aside from a last minute reveal, there's no more depth beyond that.

I think a good example to illustrate one of the big problems is the underwhelming conflict resolution: Ash has been wanting something for years and has made a deal to get it. But just as the due date comes closer, she starts to think another path will make her happy. So how will she get out of the deal she made? Super easy, barely an inconvenience (to quote Ryan George's Pitch Meetings).