#sophomore year is their best year ever it is canon to ME

[gaffney]

I’d love to hear what you think sophomore year was like at Eden Hall. Does Jesse ever show up? Are there more Ducks bumped up to varsity? Do any of them quit playing as they discover other interests in high school?

honestly i like to think of their sophomore year as the most uneventful ever 😭 they all stay on JV because #reasons and just have a good ass time. it wouldn’t make for good television BUT IT’S WHAT THEY DESERVE. pure fluff and friendship galore. no drama with anyone!! that stuff’s reserved for junior year, when some of the ducks are bumped up to varsity while others aren’t (and there's some resentment about it), and some ducks decide to not pursue hockey (professionally). i think fulton and russ especially discover their passions lie elsewhere–which both kind of hint at in d3. as for jesse… i always kinda alternate between ‘he moved away but is still in contact with the ducks, we just don’t see it because of distance’ and ‘he opted out of eden hall but is still in minnesota, and the only reason we don’t see him is because charlie’s pissed off at him’. if it’s option two, they make up after charlie gets his shit together in d3. but the idea that the ducks hang out with jesse while charlie refuses to acknowledge his existence because he’s feeling hurt and being petty about jesse quitting the team is hilarious to me

charlie: can’t believe jesse is dead jesse: i’m literally right here charlie: sometimes i can still hear his voice… it’s very annoying

[bacchuschucklefuck]

pygmalion and galatea for aroace people

you should tell your friends what I look like, riz gukgak.

[satalxo]

satal masterlist 💖

so i guess this is a thing on tumblr? allow me to jump on the bandwagon!

i'm satal, i write smutty oshamir fanfic on ao3, both canon-divergent and au. my asks are open :)

One Shots

born out of a fire - 3.3k. Explicit. Canon Divergent. When she attacks him with his ligthsaber outside the cave, Qimir convinces Osha to let him help set her free.

upended - 3.7k. Explicit. Canon Divergent. Nothing could have prepared Osha for the way her entire universe changes when she dons the Stranger’s helmet.

strangeness & charm - 4.5k. Explicit. Modern AU. Mae drags Osha to a house party she really doesn’t want to attend. There she runs into awkward loner Qimir from her Mechanical Engineering class.

wanna be loved, wanna be afraid - 6k. Explicit. Modern AU. DEAD DOVE dubcon darkfic. When the greasy bartender realizes their IDs are fake, Mae offers to blow him in exchange for access to the VIP lounge. He agrees to the deal…only he doesn't want Mae.

Multi Chapter

you could be mine tonight - 2/2. 10k. Explicit. Modern AU. Qimir Stranger is notorious for being the best one-night-stand at Khofar University. After a string of shitty boyfriends and lackluster hookups, Osha decides she wants a try.

we bleed the same - 3/?. 11.5k. Explicit. Canon Divergent. Osha Aniseya has a soulmate. She's known this since she was six years old, when the vicious scar first appeared on her back. But the galaxy is a vast place, and her chances of ever finding her soulmate seem impossibly small.

a glow like this - 3/3. 27k. Explicit. Bridgerton AU. A year after meeting a greasy but charming stranger at a salon she wasn't supposed to attend, Osha discovers he's the Duke of Bal'demnic, her sister's betrothed.

Longfic

masterpiece - 24/25. 163k. Explicit. Modern AU. College Sophomore Osha is perfectly content with her choice to pursue a Mechanical Engineering degree. But when she needs an elective to round out her coursework for the semester, Mae convinces her to join Intro to Studio Painting. There she encounters Professor Qimir Stranger, who turns her whole world upside down.

masterpiece official playlist

masterpiece reader playlist by GotMochi

[capuchinbutterfly]

Okay, but hear me out… I’m rewatching Fantasy High: Sophomore Year, and in her first episode, Ayda Aguefort got crazy emotionally excited at Boggy the Froggy, and Adaine dressing him in his tiny backpack…

…she and Mary Ann Skuttle would 1,000% sit and talk Quokki Pets. Maybe she walks by when Mary Ann is feeding one, playing with it, Whatever One Does™, and stops, eyes wide and dilated, inhaling sharply, “WHAT!!- is that” and they hit it off from there.

So. She learned the familiar spell from Adaine... Mary Ann brings her a Quokki Pet of her own. But Ayda doesn’t do gifts, so she insists that to accept the pet, she must be able to either pay for it in value or trade something. Mary Ann doesn’t even hesitate before agreeing “Sure” to a trade. Later on, in the middle of who knows what, Ayda straightens suddenly, feathers bristling. “I have it,” she says, and without further explanation, promptly flies off and disappears.

She returns shortly afterward, having conjured a familiar that looks exactly like Mary Ann’s favorite Quokki Pet.

Ayda learns a person can have more than one best friend.

.

.

.

[smol edit: I don’t think Find Familiar actually works this way, but when have I ever respected rules of canon 🤷‍♂️]

[xoxo-sarah]

I Wanna Be Yours || Part 16

Part 15 | Series Masterlist

↝a/n: The final part is here! Let me know if y'all wanna drabbles on these two. 🩷

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Wheeler!reader

↝ Warning: not proofread, possible spoilers, cannon events, angst that ends in fluff, Eddie's canon death, sad Dustin, Vecna, the aftermath of everything, getting caught, supportive Karen because I said so

↝⎙ 9.18.24

Your body dropped with a thud. You began coughing, clawing at your sore throat. The tentacles slithered away.

Eyes finally focusing, you looked up, at Nancy, at Steve, at Robin.

“I don't believe in a higher power,” Robin croaked, her throat sore as well, “- or divine intervention. But that was a miracle.”

Nancy stood, turning around, “I think we better not waste it.” She cocked her gun. You grabbed the hatchet that fell out of your grasp, gripping it with infuriated intention.

“Phase four.” Steve quipped, “Flambé.”

You brought the lighter to the cloth hanging out of the top of the bottle of kerosene, watching as Steve threw it.

Vecna screamed, catching on fire. He withered, falling down from the web of tentacles and vines he had been held up by. He looked up, right at the four of you. You could hear his flesh sizzle.

You lit up another bottle, still staring at him. You threw it.

He staggered back.

Nancy walked forward, gun up and ready to shoot.

Shells clanked against the wooden floor.

Bullet after bullet were shot at Vecna. One final shot had him staggering back, out of the window, letting out a howl of anger.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You ran down the creaky stairs, watching where you were stepping, and out of the front door. “Fuck!” Your voice echoed.

Vecna was nowhere to be seen. Where he had fallen, there was scorched ground and little spots of fire. “Goddamn it.” You ran your palms down your face in frustration.

A clock chimed from inside the house.

Four chimes.

“Four chimes,” Nancy whispered, “Max.”

The ground rumbled again. You let your body fall, too exhausted physically and emotionally to fight against it. The ground divided, admitting a bright red.

-Two days later-

Survivor's guilt ate at you. But people made it better. Robin made it better. She distracted you from the gnawing feeling of obligation. You felt obligated to bring Max flowers ever other day. You felt obligated to take your childhood toys and clothes to help with people who had been impacted by the earthquake in Hawkins. You felt obligated to let Eddie rest in peace as much as you could. There's only so much you can do when everyone is making him out to be evil.

Robin helped distract you, as you tried to do the same.

-flashback-

You stumbled back toward the trailer park, mind elsewhere. You stopped your movement when you saw Dustin.

He sat in front of Eddie's trailer, knees held up to his chest, body shaking. “Dustin?” You walked faster, dropping the hatched beside him. He flinched when you touched his shoulder.

“Dustin-hey. Wh-where's Eddie?” Steve came up behind you, kneeling in front of the boy.

Dustin sobbed harder, hiding his face deeper into his knees. Your bottom lip wobbled, eyes burning.

Eddie was gone. Max was gone.

-----

“How long?”

“Hm?” You hummed, fingers slowly dragging against her stomach.

She shivered before continuing, “How long have you liked me?”

“An embarrassingly long time.” You huffed.

She smiled at your words, beginning to play with your hair.

“Around Sophomore year.”

“Oh, god.” Her hand dropped your hair, moving to cover her face. “That was my worst year. Why that year?!”

You sat up, looking at her from a better angle, you couldn't help but find her embarrassment so amusing. “You were adorable. Stop it.” You moved her hands away from her face, seeing her whole face beat red.

She sighed, “I was struggling that year.”

“I think we all were.” You chuckled, playing with the elastic bottom of her bra. The fashion trends weren't the best that year-for anyone.

“I used to wear these long socks-Oh my God! They never matched. I'd show them off like I was making a fashion statement.”

“Yeah, they were pretty bad.” You smiled as she slung her head back into the pillow. They were indeed pretty bad. But you weren't focusing on her socks that year. You were focusing on your new feelings.

“How could you ever find that cute?”

“I could hear you across the room when you'd talk to your friends. You would get so excited when something you enjoyed came up in the conversation. It was adorable.” You smiled fondly at the memory.

Robin wore a small smile on her own face, reminiscing on sophomore year-not her horrific choices in clothing- but the good memories with her friends.

She had seen you too. In the halls, in classrooms. Everywhere.

She tried not to think of you, keeping school on her mind. But you always seemed to slither into her thoughts. She eventually became shy around you, which was unlike her. She was usually outgoing, at least in classes where she had her friends to talk to.

Then, she started working at the mall with Steve, and you would come in a lot. You had gotten closer with both of them that year, despite the tension between Steve and your sister. Steve had made it his mission to make you understand that he had changed from “King Steve”. It took a lot of convincing on his part, and a lot of free ice-cream. Nancy eventually got over it, so you did too. Steve had changed, all of you had.

Robin ducked her head, kissing beside your lips. She stayed there for a moment, basking in you, before she smiled.

It felt good to feel her smile against you.

After everything you've been through these last few days, you would do anything to have her smiling against you for the rest of your lives.

“Y/n-”

Before you could move, the door was open and someone stood in the frame, frozen. You jumped apart from each other, Robin moving to cover her bra-clad upper half.

“Mrs. Wheeler-” Robin tried to explain, not really knowing what to say to make the situation better.

“I made breakfast,” Your mom said after an awkward moment of silence, and smiled at you, then, turned to the blushing mess of a girl. “I hope you can join us.”

As soon as she closed the door, Robin fell back on the bed, huffing and using the sheet to cover her face now. “What was that?!” She croaked. Her face hadn't lost any of its pink hue. If anything, it became darker, spreading to her ears and down her neck.

You grinned, pulling the sheet away from her face, "At least you don't have to jump out of the window now. And you get food."

•© 2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

• My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

🫧 Taglistׂׂ ૢ ~ @overtrred28 @ihatepeanutss @jovana1234578 @dobbycarl @kyleeservopoulos @marirxse @ch-3-rry

[tinytalkingtina]

Born to Run

Part 1 of Running with the Devil, a Steddie role reversal series

4k words | Rating: E

Tags/CW: Role reversal no upside down AU with some canon divergence, Jock/Track Star!Eddie, Metalhead/drug dealer!Steve, appalachian Eddie, confident bisexual Steve, Eddie has a sexuality crisis but is in denial, Eddie's sleeping mind decides to take matters into its own hands, wet dream (contains spanking and public humiliation), running of both the literal and metaphorical kind, child abuse referenced indirectly (physical beatings that happened in the past)

Read now on Ao3, and be sure to read @little-annie's Part 2 from Steve's POV, "Metal Health will Drive you Mad"

The sex dream within this fic is brought to you by the Week 4 prompt "slap" of the @steddiesmuttyseptember event

Eddie was always a runner. If you asked Wayne, he apparently skipped straight from crawling to toddling around as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. When he got older, it was a release valve, for everything and anything shitty in his life.

He didn’t have to think about his mom pulling a disappearing act, or his dad getting himself arrested (again). The world would narrow until the only sounds he could hear were the rushing in his ears and the smack of his sneakers on pavement.

Running had brought him to where he was now, as he clawed his way up the proverbial high school ranks. Anyone at this party would look at him and only see the triumphant senior captain of the track team, fresh off a successful meet. Every keg stand, every heroic retelling of a close race, every sloppy makeout session with a cheerleader, kept the attention on the Eddie of the present. 

No one needed to remember the wide-eyed weirdo with patched baggy clothes, nearly ten when his classmates would only turn nine that year.

All around him, the crowd ebbed and flowed between the alcohol and the bonfire, the flickering flames and shadows making it hard to tell who was who. Someone stumbled into Eddie, breaking him out of his brooding.

“Whoops, sorry Eddie! Guess I’ll have to make it up to you later.” Before he could say anything, the giggling cheerleader pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. (He knew he went on a date with her about a month ago, but her name eluded him. Tina, maybe, or Vicki?)

He forced a grin back. “Of course you didn’t mean it sugar. Gonna hold you to that ‘kay?”

The girl possibly named Tina swooned at the tiny bit of accent he'd carefully slipped in. Just a touch could be charming to the fine folks of the Midwest, even if what he ended up using was way less Appalachian hick and more refined Southern gentleman than his momma's family had ever spoken in their lives.

As soon as her back was turned, he let the smile slide off. His post-meet high wore off too quickly tonight, and it left him well, twitchy.

An arm slung itself over his shoulder. "Ed my man, this party is wild! Your best work yet dude." Tommy grinned at him, already drunk. Neither of them commented on how close Tommy was pressing himself into Eddie. Or how Eddie wasn't quite moving away. But then again, the two of them had perfected the art of leaving things unsaid after what happened sophomore year, how close they had come to—no.

"Heh, yeah. Hey, where's Carol? She's gonna be pissed you abandoned her."

"Please, Carol's fine. She's busy talking with Lisa Carmichael. Speaking of which, she's really into you. Come on, get your dick wet, you deserve it after that 800 meter. We're fucking going to states!" His last sentence was said much louder, and a chorus of cheers and whoops predictably echoed back from celebratory partygoers. The twitchiness grew.

"I dunno man, not really feeling it tonight." Eddie tried to subtly back up a little bit, but Tommy just swayed forward into his space again.

“Trust me, you won’t be feeling like that when you're balls deep in a nice tight—"

"Tommy will you just fucking stop? What's with your obsession with my dick huh?"

A look of fear and hurt flashed across Tommy's face for a second, before it was replaced with a scowl. Fuck that was the wrong thing to say and danced way too close to the thoughts about—nope, they were not gonna talk about that.

Eddie carefully pat Tommy on the shoulder instead of thinking. "Shit sorry, it's fine, you're just looking out for me, right? I appreciate it, just not uh, really in the partying mood for some reason." 

Tommy managed to recover his grin. "Oh, duh, why didn't you say so? That fucking freak Harrington finally showed up about thirty minutes ago. Sure he's got something that'll make you unwind a bit. Here, have one on me.”

Eddie wanted to snap that he didn’t need pity money. He got the kegs supplied just fine on his own, hadn’t he? But Tommy was still holding himself tensely several steps away. Tommy, who in sixth grade biked over every other day even after his parents had told him to stay away from the trailer park. Who “accidentally” always had a second pudding cup tucked in with his lunch for sharing. Whose summertime freckles were just starting to fade but Eddie knew still trailed down all the way to his—. 

Besides, maybe weed would take the edge off whatever ugly thing kept rearing its insistent head inside him tonight. Help him forget about the looming pressures of the future and the things he wasn’t going to think about, help him feel normal again.

“Thanks Tommy, I’ll try and relax.” Eddie grabbed the money and set off down the path towards Skull Rock, where Harrington always held court. The chill wind rustling through the trees was a welcome respite to his overheated skin.

The walk over to the next clearing was only a few minutes, but by the time Eddie came upon it, the thrum of bass and general teenage debauchery had faded into a low murmur.

Instead, Skull Rock reverberated with the sound of tapping and gentle humming. Eddie’s heart picked up a little.

Steve Harrington made him nervous. It wasn’t necessarily how loud the guy was. Eddie could understand the need to fill a room up. He could vaguely remember a quieter pre-pubescent Harrington before his dramatic transformation, dressed in tiny polos and khakis and halfheartedly kicking around a soccer ball. Now, his entire wardrobe consisted solely of black and red accented with flashy gold rings. The thick combat boots he wore constantly made him tower over everyone else, and the ever-growing collection of tattoos scattered on his body thoroughly scandalized each and every teacher. What they all meant was a perennial topic of discussion amongst the student body.

A voice echoed down from one of the boulders: “Oh hey, look who showed up, it’s Eddie Munson himself! Heard from your sidekick Hagan you’re the reason Hawkins is going to States.”

Steve was stretched out, lounging on the top of the rock, a pair of drumsticks held loosely in one hand.

“Yup, we are. First time in five years actually.” The state championships. There would be college recruiters there, and with them the promise of scholarships that’d get him out of this town. Somewhere far away from the looming threat of the plant bending his back prematurely like it had Wayne’s. Somewhere no one had heard the name of Al Munson.

“Well then.” Steve practically purred as he smoothly jumped down to the ground. He gave his drumsticks a twirl before stashing them in his pocket. “You sure got ‘em, didn’t you Tiger.”

Yeah, there it was. Seemed like sometimes, Harrington could see right through him, like he knew about how his thoughts occasionally strayed to—nope.

Eddie crossed his arms and tried to keep his face neutral. “Uh-huh.”

“Don’t you know it’s polite to thank someone when they compliment you?” Steve’s eyes sparkled with amusement. The fucker was toying with him. Worse, he was enjoying it.

Summoning every ounce of cockiness he possessed, Eddie stood up straight. Sure, this close Harrington had several inches on him, but it didn’t matter. Only one of them could throw the party of the year, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the unpopular weirdo in front of him.

“Shouldn’t you be the one thanking me? I let you sell your shit at my party.”

“Got a mouth on you, don’t you.” Steve smirked. “Tell me Munson, what’s stopping me from taking my goodies to, say, the basketball team’s next rager and skipping out on your little get together entirely? Don’t have to dirty my shoes at their parties. They choose to host at a house.”

Eddie gritted his teeth. “Hey fuck you man, not all of us have—”

“Didn’t say I minded,” Steve plowed on, interrupting him. “Maybe I like the fresh air and the…view. Just like to enjoy them peacefully.” He stood there with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in expectation.

Eddie could feel his face flushing but he held his ground. “Never stopped you from helping yourself to our beer.”

“Free shitty beer, just what I look forward to.” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “I gotta say, wasn’t really expecting you to come here. Don’t you usually send someone else to get your fix?”

Eddie shrugged. “Needed a change. And we both know you overcharge Tommy.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” Steve barked out a laugh. “But he deserves the asshole tax. Just weed for you tonight? There’s all kinds of ways to unwind if your usual methods are leaving you…unsatisfied there Munson.”

Vividly, Eddie was reminded of the graffiti scribbled on the walls above the urinals near the gym: Score a touchdown, then score with SH. More often than not, Steve could be found spectating the games, quietly dealing underneath the bleachers. On occasion, one girl or another could be seen emerging from underneath and brushing dirt off her skirt. But there was that other rumor, one that no guy would ever admit to having personal experience with. That if you won, Harrington would give anyone weed for free if they got on their knees for him and—woah there. What was wrong with him tonight?

“Th-think the weed is jus’ fine, ain’t lookin’ for much else.” he stammered out. Shit, why did his accent have to slip now of all times? “I mean, weed is all I need. Those fucking pricks from Greencastle got under my skin.” Assholes thought they were so big, mocking his out of style sneakers. Those shoes hadn't stopped him from shaving half a second off the regional record, but he couldn't help but still feel the barbs from their insults lodged under his skin, festering.

Steve cocked his head as he stared at Eddie with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally he broke into a disarming smile. Eddie couldn’t remember ever seeing Steve sincerely express happiness, at least not from this distance. He would have remembered how prett—how his eyes lit up.

“I’m in a band you know. Pierced Scepter. We play down at this shitty dive bar and yeah, usually it’s a crowd of four drunks and the bartender, but it doesn’t matter. Being on any stage is…fuck it’s awesome. But sometimes it’s a little too much to just pack it all up right after. So I come out here to scream my head off, get it all out. Better off terrorizing the birds than picking fights when my parents are around.” Steve unconsciously rubbed his palm as he laughed humorlessly. “Saves on the screaming matches at home and the. Well.”

“Didn’t realize rich folks got their own hands dirty like that.” Carol’s parents had left the task of punishment to her nanny, preferring to swoop in with carrots after the stick had been administered.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure my dad would say something about how ‘real men are responsible for disciplining their kids so they don’t get soft.’ Though what he considers ‘soft’ changes a lot based on his mood. And whether he’s wearing a belt or suspenders that day.”

“G-d, who knew our dads have something in common then?” Eddie snorted. “Never could keep my old man happy, was always doing something wrong. He took the belt to me so often in third grade I barely could sit down the whole year.” His first time in third grade anyway, the one before he was whisked away to the safe haven of Wayne’s trailer.

“And…I have absolutely no idea why I told you that.” He barely talked about his dad to Tommy and Carol for crying out loud. On visitor’s days he always made up some lie about why he and Wayne were driving close to the state penitentiary.

Steve let out a weird little braying bark of a laugh and shuffled his feet. “Right, you didn’t come here to cry over our daddy issues. Gimme a sec to get your stuff.” Steve reached behind to grab the lunchbox he carried his goods around in. As he did, his jacket slid open enough to show the exposed line of his clavicle above the low-cut collar of his tee. Eddie swallowed hard. Against his will, his eyes dipped lower, noticing a design over the top of his pec in black ink. Oh, a new tattoo.

Eddie squinted trying to make out what it was. “It’s been a while since you gave O’Donnell a reason to lecture us on the ‘decaying morality of the modern day.’ Is that a two headed monkey?”

Delight flickered over Steve’s face. “This? Yeah, it’s new. Supposed to be Demogorgon, the ‘Prince of Demons.’” At Eddie’s blank look he chuckled. “He’s a monster from Dungeons and Dragons, you know, the fantasy game we play in Hellfire Club. It was the final battle of a months long campaign and our characters were trying to escape Demogorgon’s lair. Most of the party was close to death, but at a chokepoint, my character took a last stand and gave the others enough time to escape. Everyone else got out, even if the bastard got me in the end. So, I got this as a tribute to my character's sacrifice.”

Eddie spoke without thinking. “Oh, that’s kind of similar to what Gandalf did: facing off against the Balrog to save the rest of the Fellowship.”

Forget fleeting glimpses of real smiles. The look of surprise Steve gave him was almost comically out of place on his face. “You’ve read Lord of the Rings?”

“While ago, yeah. The Hobbit too.” Back when he first moved in with Wayne, the man had found an absolutely beautiful illustrated set at a rummage sale. Eddie smiled to himself, remembering how excited he’d been to get his first real present ever. “Spent a whole summer running around during the day, then staying up way too late reading all night. My uncle had to confiscate my flashlight eventually.”

A snort from Steve jolted Eddie out of his memories as he realized who he was talking to. “Don’t tell anyone that Harrington, or else,” he ordered as he flushed for the second time that evening, “The rest of your dorky club of nerds better not start bothering me in the hallway just because I’ve read Tolkien. Not going to step in to save them if they forget their place.”

Steve’s expression shuttered as he stood upright. “Right, wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation with the rest of your jock buddies.” Eddie was taken aback by the bitterness in Steve’s voice. “They might explode if you admit to having interests beyond banging chicks, sports magazines, and beer. Your secret’s safe with me. After all, who’s going to believe the Freakshow? Here.” He shoved a baggie in Eddie’s face. “That should be enough for about a week. Now get lost before I double the price.”

Eddie opened his mouth to apologize. But the artificial sneer on Steve’s face made him lose his nerve. He just held out his money as he snatched away the weed. “Thanks, uh, have a good night Harrington. Help yourself to something from the kegs.” He almost made it to the edge of the trees before Steve’s voice called out to him: “Hey, Munson!” 

He froze and turned. Steve had clambered back onto Skull Rock, moonlight and shadows making him look otherworldly and malevolent, towering over the clearing. “Keep that attitude of yours in check next time, or else I might take my services somewhere else. But, if you need more help…unwinding, well. You know where to find me.” That knowing smirk was firmly fixed back in place on his face. 

Eddie couldn’t help it. He finally gave into his impulses and ran.

He didn’t think about those plush lips drawn back into a genuine smile as he quickly navigated back to the party. He didn’t think about those amused eyes seeing right through him as he knocked back a few cups of beer and danced a little with anyone and no one. And he certainly wasn’t thinking about that tattoo surrounded by chest hair as he staggered home to an empty trailer and collapsed into his bed.

“You look so good there, kneeling for me Eddie.” Steve looms over him, those ringed hands on his hips. Eddie realizes he’s naked in the clearing and flushes with embarrassment. When did he take off his clothes?

Any thoughts on how he ended up here are derailed when the wind caresses his body. Oh. Tendrils of air race over his exposed chest and glide over his heavy balls and dripping cock. 

“And look how much you’re enjoying it too.” He’s never been this turned on in his life, and it’s all because of Steve. All for Steve. He’s powerless to prevent a moan from falling out of his mouth. 

“You act so big at school, like you’re the top of the food chain yeah? A real king of the jungle. But you and me, we know better. You’re not a scary tiger at all are you. No, you’re just a cute little kitten.”

Eddie can’t help but whine as he spreads himself wider in invitation.

“Yeah, thought you’d like that.” Steve crooks a finger and gestures for Eddie to follow him. “Come on kitten.” Eddie begins to get up, his legs tingling with pins and needles.

“Mhm, no. I like you better down there. In fact, I think you should crawl.”

He shudders but obeys the sound of that voice, would do anything for it. He stays on all fours as the path unwinds before them, until they come to a door. Eddie moves as fast as he can to follow Steve through, tumbling into the void within. He flails, plummeting until a familiar wax-polished wood rushes up to meet his palms. Eddie doesn’t dare get up from his hands and knees as he lifts his head but-

The gym is filled to the brim. 

Their classmates sit silently, blank looks on their faces as they stare. They’re waiting for something to happen. White hot shame courses through his veins as he desperately tries to cover up.

The voice cuts smoothly through the haze of his embarrassment: “Look at them kitten, they’re all waiting for a show. Let’s give one to them.”

Steve nudges him onto his back. He grabs his wrists and pulls them away from his body, exposing Eddie to the crowd. No! His face is on fire as he tries to fight it, but he can’t seem to break free, his strength sapped away. Steve tightens his hold on his wrists.

“Settle down Eddie, let them see you. You love this.”

He knows Steve is right. He can’t hide how hard his aching cock is, slapping against his belly as he squirms. But he can’t help it, they’ll all know. Faint whispers drift down from the stands as the crowd watches him struggle.

“Please, don’t make me do this,” he begs, but the words get caught in his choked up throat.

“I think you’ve forgotten your place. Maybe you need a reminder that you can’t hide, not from me.”

Steve hauls him up and easily slings him over a shoulder. Eddie lays there limply, frozen and whimpering. He’s unceremoniously dumped on top of a teacher’s desk right at the center line.  Hands come up to squeeze at his nipples, hard. Just the way he does when he’s alone. His cock twitches and drools even more from the groping. 

Eddie blinks, and suddenly the bleachers are that much closer.

“Be happy kitten, all the attention is on you! Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?” Oh G-d. Every eye is fixed on him, the buzzing of interest growing louder.

“No, I don’t want this, I don’t want you!” He shouts as loud as he can but the words come out muted and garbled.

Steve barks out a cruel laugh. “God, you’re pathetic. But then you’ve always been so good at lying to yourself haven’t you? You were the one who kissed Tommy, not the other way around. But when he went in for more, you pushed him off and ran away.”

Through the blur of tears, he can just make out Tommy’s face in the crowd, wearing the same accusatory and hurt look he had two years ago.

Steve leans down to nibble at his ear. “And,” he whispers, his voice silky smooth. “Let’s not forget how in the back of your head you imagine me shoving you against a locker and making you take it. Or sometimes, I threaten you with my knife a little out in the woods, yeah?”

Without warning, Eddie is manhandled over Steve’s lap. “Good news, guess today’s your lucky day kitten. I’m going to make you take it until you admit to everyone what you really want.”

SMACK!

The first slap to his ass sounds loudly, echoing around the gym. Eddie nearly swallows his tongue trying to keep quiet. The spectators in the stands let out a gasp for him.

But Steve doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until Eddie feels like his ass is on fire.

He finds himself pleading for Steve to have mercy, slipping back into the accent he tries so hard to keep a lid on normally.

“Ha, there he is, finally. You can dress yourself up in a varsity jacket all you want, but we all know what you really are. Just a piece of trailer trash. You can’t run from this you dumb hick. Tell me what I want to hear.”

Eddie shakes his head. He can’t. “Fine, then take your punishment.”

Smack after smack rains down on his ass. The pain builds and builds, and the crowd gets louder and louder. But underneath the humiliation, he remains hard and grows even more desperate. Every slap sends him thrusting, his cock trapped between Steve’s muscular thighs. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Ha! And you jocks call me the freak. You’re the one humping my leg and yowling like you’re in heat. Pain turn you on kitten?”

That’s all it takes to push him over the edge. 

He cums to the sound of cheers.

Eddie woke with a jolt and a gasp, his whole body pulsing in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced. 

Trembling, he curled up into a ball and let the tears fall. This was nothing, just a passing thought his brain had gotten attached to. All he had to do was survive the year, and then he could be finally free of Hawkins, and the living ghosts that haunted him.

If only that had been the last time he dreamed of Steve Harrington.

Two weeks later, Eddie woke with a fuzzy head and even fuzzier memories of the night before, vaguely remembering a ringed hand stroking his hair. On his nightstand was a glass of water, some Tylenol, and a note from SH telling him to take it easy. 

After that his dreams changed. Sometimes he wasn’t humiliated at all, and those tattooed arms kept him safe and cared for. It felt worse almost, to have his subconscious offer up such happiness, only to snatch it away when he woke to an empty bed. He didn’t dare spend the night in the arms of a girl at her house, worried he’d reveal himself for the freak he was.

A full month of torment and countless hours of lost slumber later, Eddie finally had had enough. He grabbed his keys and tore off in the direction of Steve's house, praying that Carol wouldn't see his van in her neighbor's driveway at this time of night.

As he rang the doorbell, he didn’t know what to expect. But it certainly wasn’t the sight of a sleep rumpled Steve answering the door in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Somehow, seeing his bare hands felt more intimate than the lack of shirt did.

“Munson? Gave me a heart attack, thought my parents were back a day early. What are you—”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupted, wide-eyed and feeling slightly crazed. “Can we talk?”

Ao3 link

It's finally here! This began life as a brain worm that Annie and I have turned into a whole fully expanded universe. We can't wait to write more with these two :D

Tagging a few folks who showed interest in the original Wiggly Wednesday post (but please feel free to ignore): @eyesofshinigami @augustjustice @griefabyss69 @hairstevington

@dreamy-jeans137 @eriquin @hbyrde36 @hotluncheddie

Thank you to steddiecameraroll-graphics for the runner divider!

[hyperfixatedimagines]

Home for the Holidays Ch.1

Summary: Your family didn't take your coming out well....and instead of spending the holiday alone you join your roommate for Christmas dinner. While Aemond wishes you set your sights on his sister Helaena, your tastes skew much older. 

A/N: This is a modern!au milf Alicent x milf lover f!reader. It was supposed to be finished last December lol. It got really long so I broke it into two chapters. It will be smutty, so read with caution if that’s not your thing! Not really smut in part one though. 

A/N pt. 2: In this story two of Alicent’s cousins are her older brothers and Baela is not Helaena’s cousin. Not canon compliant.

You knew the holidays were going to be rough this year but had not anticipated just how hard seeing pictures of your family in St. Barts without you would be. 

They had not taken your coming out well. 

Sure they had promised to keep paying the tuition to your very expensive university until you graduated but that did little to soothe the hurt that their disapproval caused. Your family came from old money, some of the oldest of old in the country, and with that came old ways of thinking. They didn't care that you were gay, plenty of people in your extended family were some form of fruit, but they all stayed in the closet- at least publicly. That was what your family wanted for you as well. Anything to not tarnish their image. 

But you couldn't live that way any longer. You wanted to be free. 

To your surprise, only your estranged cousin Elia had accepted and even celebrated your coming out of the closet. 

Thankfully you had Aemond. The two of you had met in freshman history class. He argued with the professor over every historical inconsistency in his lectures and it drove the professor mad. It made you laugh though. Aemond also came from old money, so the two of you bonded over the pressures that came from families that expected you to be perfect. Sophomore year the two of you moved into an apartment off campus, and your friendship only grew from there. 

Aemond was your best friend, and you could not have asked for a better one. Aemond invited you to spend the holiday with his family. He didn’t love spending time with his family as they could be quite a lot but he always went for his mother’s sake. 

You figured it beat spending Christmas alone in your flat. 

So you got dressed in your very best and sat in the passenger seat of Aemond’s Porsche the whole drive to Oldtown. 

- 

Aemond popped another piece of gum into his mouth. “This will be a great opportunity for you and Helaena to bond,” he said as he chewed. 

You rolled your eyes. “Not this again.” 

Aemond smiled mischievously. “Come on (y/n). You can’t tell me you didn’t feel a connection when she came to visit on my birthday.” 

“I can, and I am. She’s not a lesbian Aemond,” you replied.

Aemond was convinced that his sister Helaena was a lesbian. His evidence was that she never had a boyfriend, attended an all women's university, majored in Women’s studies, and only brought home girl best friends for the holidays. 

“She talked to you that night, which cannot be said for many other people. Helaena is very selective with who she talks to. You even made her laugh (y/n)! I saw the sparks,” Aemond argued. 

You sighed and shook your head. “Even if your sister was by some miracle into women, which I want to firmly state for the record that she is not, she’s simply not my type.” 

The light turned red and Aemond’s car pulled to a smooth stop at the intersection. He turned to you. 

“You don’t have a type. I’ve seen you bring all types of women home (y/n).” 

You smirked. “Ever notice they weren’t at all our age.” 

Aemond furrowed his brows. “So your type is older women?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, like your mom for example.” 

Aemond frowned. “Dude not that again!” 

You laughed. “It’s not my fault your mom is a total milf.” 

The light turned green. Aemond focused on the road once more. His face contorted in disgust. 

“Ugh, yeah you and my mother are not something I’d like to picture.” 

You let out another laugh. “Well I certainly have.” 

This time Aemond let out a small chuckle. “Do you have the hots for my mother (y/n)? Is that why you said yes to joining us for Christmas?” 

You shrugged. “Maybe I do, and maybe it is.” 

Aemond chuckled again. “Well if you can make my white, Anglo-saxon, catholic mother do anything untoward this weekend I’ll spend the first two months of the new year cleaning the bathroom every weekend.”

Another red light. The car came to a stop.

You turned to Aemond and put your hand out. 

“Deal.” 

Aemond turned to you and shook his head. “I was joking.” 

“I am not," you replied with a cheeky smile.

“Fine, deal,” Aemond said and shook your hand. 

The light turned green. Aemond sped off once more. 

You sat back in your seat thinking of Aemond’s mother, Alicent. You had only met her via Facetime when she called to check in on Aemond. 

She was a certified smokeshow. 

Alicent was beautiful and always held herself with poise. She was dressed impeccably in every photo of her online you could find when you first cyber-stalked her. 

She had lost her husband, Aemond’s father, three years ago. 

Aemond always skirted around the topic of his father. His father, from what you knew, had never really cared for Aemond and his siblings. 

Viserys Targaryen was in his second term as the state's governor when he passed away. The Targaryens were political legends in your state. Many of their family members had been mayors, governors, state senators, and they had even managed to have an ancestor in the oval office. 

Aemond’s father had always favored his only daughter from his first marriage, Rhaenyra. He had poised her to be the city’s mayor but his death led to a falling out within Aemond’s family. According to Aemond, they had never gotten along with Rhaenyra and her family but they had been cordial while Viserys lived. 

When he died, Rhaenyra (who according to Aemond saw his mother as nothing but a gold digging whore) fought Alicent on every asset Viserys owned and vowed to leave Alicent penniless. 

Thankfully Aemond’s mother had her family by her side. The Hightowers of Oldtown were an even older political force to be reckoned with. Their wealth dated back to the very founding of the nation. 

Aemond’s grandfather, Otto Hightower, had squandered his own inheritance as a young man. It was rumored his family had cut him off and left him to his own devices after he gambled his money away. So Aemond’s mother had grown up having to make a lot of things happen on her own as they didn’t have their family’s backing for most of her life. 

It wasn’t until Alicent married Viserys that the Hightowers welcomed Otto, Alicent, and her brothers back into the family fold. 

So when Viserys died Alicent had the army of Hightower family lawyers on her side. Alicent managed to win several of Viserys’ homes and the money the prenup she had signed promised her. 

Aemond never really spoke of his father, and when he did it was without warmth or love. So you often wondered if this was how all his family felt or if it was just him. You figured you would soon find out.

- 

Aemond pulled up in front of the massive estate. 

You got out of the car and marveled at the impressive family home. It wasn’t bigger than the one your family owned but it did look older and felt more imposing. 

The estate was decorated from top to bottom in Christmas decor. It was done tastefully, the lights and decor didn’t look tacky, but it certainly conveyed a love for the holiday not many others shared by the look of the estates Aemond had passed by on the drive up. 

Aemond popped the truck of the car open and took out his overnight bag. Then he took a deep breath and walked towards you. 

“Say the word and we can still go back to the flat,” he joked. 

You raised your brows and gave him a sideways look. “And do what? Eat Chinese take out and get drunk?” 

Aemond smiled. “That sounds class to me.” 

You laughed and shook your head. 

“Aemond," said a voice that sounded as sweet as honey and as light as the morning sun. 

You and Aemond turned your heads towards the estate. 

Aemond’s mother stood at the door. She smiled brightly and waved. 

Gods she’s even more beautiful in person, you thought. 

Aemond put his hand on your shoulder. “Let’s get this over with then.” 

You and Aemond walked up to the door. 

Aemond’s mother turned to you and gave you a hug. 

“It’s lovely to finally see you in person (y/n)," Alicent said as she politely embraced you. 

You were surprised but you quickly recovered and returned the embrace. You noted how warm she felt. 

“It’s a pleasure Mrs. Targaryen.” 

Alicent pulled away and waved her hand dismissively. “Oh none of that. Call me Alicent,” she said with a smile. 

You nodded. “If you insist, Alicent.” 

She let out a polite laugh then turned her attention to Aemond. She wrapped her arms around her son. “I’ve missed you so much my little dragon,” she cooed. 

Aemond blushed as he pulled away from his mother. 

“Mom,” he chided. 

Alicent laughed. “What? I can’t call you my little dragon anymore?” 

You laughed and turned to Aemond. “Little dragon?” 

Alicent turned to you. “He used to love running around pretending he was a dragon when he was a boy.” 

You reached out and pinched Aemond’s now rosy cheek. “How cute, little dragon.” 

Aemond swatted your hand away. “That only happened when I was seven and it’s because the dragon is on our family crest.” 

“If it makes you feel better my nickname used to be baby cabbage in our mother tongue," you revealed, hoping to lessen Aemond's embarrassment. 

Alicent laughed. “Why baby cabbage?” 

You blushed under her gaze. “I was a very chubby baby.” 

“How darling,” Alicent quipped. 

Butterflies fluttered in your chest at the compliment. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Aemond staring at you. 

He cleared his throat and pulled his mother’s gaze away from you. “Let’s go inside, it’s bitterly cold out.” 

Alicent nodded. “Of course come on in. Aegon is already up in his room. Helaena and her friend should be getting in any minute now.” 

Alicent stepped aside and Aemond walked inside. 

You followed after him and felt the butterflies in your chest multiply when you caught Alicent looking you over from head to toe with a small smile on her face.

-

Aemond and Aegon decided to smoke a joint before dinner. 

You weren’t against it but didn’t care to partake so you wandered downstairs and figured you’d ask Alicent if she needed any help with dinner. 

You knocked on the wall of the kitchen entryway. 

Alicent was stirring something in the saucepan but looked up when she heard you knock. She smiled. 

Butterflies filled your chest once more. 

“Hi there,” she said. 

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans. Your palms had already started to sweat and you hadn't even spoken yet. 

“Hi...Uh I was wondering if you needed help with anything?” 

Alicent waved you off. “You’re a guest (y/n). I could never ask you to do anything,” Alicent protested. 

You stepped closer and leaned against the counter next to the stove. “Then it’s a great thing I’m asking you. Really, I want to help out,” you insisted. 

Alicent let out a small laugh. “Okay, you can stir this gravy while I check on the roast.” 

You stepped up to the stove and took over the stirring. 

Alicent went to the oven that was inlaid on the side of the stove, and took a look at the roast.   

“Did you decorate or did you hire someone to decorate your home?” 

Alicent stuck a meat thermometer in the roast and turned her head towards you. “Depends, do you think it’s too much?” 

You smiled. “Of course not. It’s beautifully done.” 

Alicent brightened at the compliment. “Then it was all me,” she beamed. 

“Do you always go all out on the holidays?” 

Alicent placed the roast back on its rack and closed the oven door. “Just Christmas. It’s my favorite holiday because I finally have my family all under one roof again." 

She took her oven mitts off. 

You continued to stir the gravy. “Well I hope it’s okay that you have a stray joining you at the table this year." 

Alicent approached the stove once more.“It’s Christmas, the more the merrier.” 

Then Alicent reached out for the spoon. You went to hand it off. 

But then your hand met hers. 

You didn’t move, and neither did Alicent. 

She met your gaze. 

You were too scared to even breathe. It felt as though if you moved even an inch the spell that kept her eyes on you would break. 

But it broke anyway. 

Alicent cleared her throat and looked away. 

You let go of the spoon. 

Alicent grabbed the spoon and resumed stirring. With her free hand she lowered the heat of the flame. “Besides, I’ll have two stays. Helaena is bringing a friend from school," she said, as though your brief moment of intense something had never happened. 

You took a step back and leaned on the counter. “Right, you mentioned that before. Do you know much about her?” 

Alicent continued to stir. She did not meet your gaze. “Not really. Helaena doesn’t share much about her college life with me. All I know is that her name is Baela, and that they’re spending Christmas day with her family.” 

You raised your eyebrows slightly. Was Aemond right about his sister being into women? 

Alicent noticed. “Why’d you make that face?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just something stupid Aemond said," your face suddenly felt warmer. 

Now it was Alicent who raised her eyebrows in intrigue. “What is it?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure if Aemond would mind you sharing his thoughts with his mother. 

Alicent noted your apprehension. “I won’t tell Aemond you mentioned anything.” 

You looked into Alicent’s eyes. They were a deep and rich brown. They were comforting. You realized that with eyes like that you would tell her anything she wanted. But her gaze was too hot so you swallowed hard and looked away from her when you told her what Aemond had said. 

“He thinks Helaena is gay, and is obsessed with getting her and I together. I’m ninety percent sure that’s the sole reason he invited me over today.” 

Alicent stopped stirring and stared at you.“Gay? Why does he think Helaena is gay?” 

You shrugged. 

Alicent placed a hand on her hip. "I think you do know." 

You dared look up. Alicent's attention was fully focused on you. You felt your stomach in your throat but you spoke anyway.

“According to Aemond, Helaena never expresses interest in men or in dating a man, only talks about women she admires, attends a historically women’s college and majors in women’s studies, and finally that she only ever brings girls home on the holidays.” 

Alicent chuckled and went back to stirring the gravy. “Oh gods. You know I’ve never known why kids today still hang onto outdated stereotypes about sexuality. I was the very same at Helaena’s age, she’ll grow out of it when she meets her future husband. I know I did.” 

You pushed yourself onto the counter and sat down, intrigued at the revelation of Alicent's past. 

“You were a women’s studies major at an all girl college?” 

Alicent tilted her head to the side.“Sort of. I majored in English literature at Vassar, and I only ever brought my girl friends home for the holidays. Until I met my late husband of course.” 

Aemond had never told you that his mother had gone to an all women’s university or that she had a BA in English Lit. It piqued your interest. You needed to know more. 

“How did you meet him?” 

Alicent returned her gaze to the stove and brought the heat of the burner even lower. “My father introduced us. He was Viserys’ chief of staff in his first term.” 

You knew there had been an age difference between them but had not imagined it was that big. 

“Interesting...”

Alicent didn’t reply but she glanced over at you. 

You hopped off the counter, awkward with the sudden silence. “What else can I help with?” 

Alicent smiled softly. “You really don’t have to (y/n).” 

You shook your head. “I insist. Have you set the table? If not I would be more than happy to do so.” 

Alicent turned the heat off and moved the sauce pot to a different burner. She looked up at you. “I laid everything out but I haven’t set it up.” 

You clapped your hands together. “Consider it done.” 

Then you raised your hand to your forehead and gave Alicent a mock salute. 

Alicent laughed.

- 

You set the table as you had always been taught to. Spoons and knives on the right and forks on the left. 

Then, just as you were almost done setting the table you realized the salad forks were missing. 

You double checked the pile where Alicent had left everything, hoping they were under a napkin and you had simply missed them. But no dice. They weren’t there. 

So you walked back to the kitchen. 

Alicent was now working on the salad she planned to serve. She looked up when you entered the kitchen, a smile on her face. It seemed like she always had a smile ready for you. 

You smiled back, it was instinct around her. “Hey uhm- I’m almost done setting the table but I realized the salad forks are missing. I can’t find them.” 

Alicent furrowed her brow. “Really? I could have sworn I set them out with the rest.” 

She grabbed a nearby paper towel and wiped her hands of any residue. 

Then she exited the kitchen and walked towards her china hutch. 

You watched her from the kitchen entryway. 

While you waited for Alicent to find the forks you looked about the room. When you looked up you realized someone had hung mistletoe over the entryway. 

You smiled. 

Alicent walked to you, forks in hand. She stopped at the entryway. “I’m so sorry I forgot to set them out with the rest.” 

She handed the forks over to you. 

You reached out to take them and for a brief minute your hands met hers, once again. 

Your gaze met hers. “Don’t apologize. I honestly don’t know how you’re doing all the cooking and decorating all on your own. Aemond and I were barely able to put a tree up.” 

Alicent smiled. She didn’t pull away this time. “You’re too sweet (y/n).” 

You returned her smile. Your cheeks were starting to hurt but you wouldn't dare not smile back. “I do have to ask you something," you said, emboldened by the continued contact with Alicent. 

Alicent raised a brow. “Ask me something?” 

You nodded slightly then continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen mistletoe hung in the entryway of a kitchen before.” 

Alicent’s brow furrowed. “Mistletoe?” 

You looked up. Alicent followed your gaze. 

Her eyes widened a bit when she noticed the mistletoe. “Oh I- That Aegon,” she cursed. 

You looked back down at her and laughed. 

Alicent met your gaze once more, blush filled her cheeks. 

Then she pulled her hands away from yours. 

You took the forks and held them against you. “It's quite a funny placement isn't it?" 

Alicent walked past you, back to her salad preparations. 

“Oh yeah? How so,” Alicent replied, busying herself with her salad to avoid looking at you.

 “It reminds me of the old saying, love the meal and kiss the chef." 

Alicent stopped chopping the greens and looked over at you. She let out a small laugh. “Is that a saying? I don't think I've heard it before." 

You shrugged. “I swear I've heard it before, somewhere...Well if it's not it should be." 

Alicent shook her head, the smile still on her face. “Let’s see if you still want to kiss the chef after you’ve had my cooking.” 

Butterflies filled your chest. You stood up a little straighter. “Deal.” 

Alicent turned to you once more, her eyebrows raised. 

You twirled around and walked back to the dining room. You could feel Alicent’s eyes on you as you walked away.

- 

You finished setting the table. 

Then you stepped back and admired your work. 

You hoped Alicent would like it. So you turned to head back to the kitchen but stopped in the hall when you heard the doorbell ring. 

You turned to open it but Aemond beat you to it. 

“Sister,” Aemond said and reached out to hug a familiar blonde.

Alicent walked out of the kitchen and went to the door. 

Helaena let go of Aemond and turned to her mother. Alicent wrapped Helaena in another hug. 

Behind her, a silver haired girl stood awkwardly in the doorway. 

Helaena pulled away from her mom and stepped back to the silver haired girl’s side. She slid her hand in the girl’s. “Mom, Aemond, this is my best friend Baela.” 

Alicent stepped forward and stuck her hand out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Baela.” 

Baela shook Alicent’s hand. “Thank you for having me over Mrs. Targaryen. Helaena has told me so much about you all.” 

Alicent laughed lightheartedly. “All good things I hope.” 

You took note that she didn’t ask Baela to call her Alicent. 

Aemond gave Baela a polite nod. “Welcome Baela.” 

Baela smiled at him. “Thank you Aemond.” 

Then Aemond noticed you standing in the hall and he waved you over. You approached them with a smile. 

Aemond went to your side and put his arm around your shoulders. “Helaena look who’s joining us tonight.” 

Helaena smiled when she turned to face you. “(y/n), it’s nice to see you again.” She stepped forward and gave you a hug. 

Aemond dropped his arm and stepped away from the both of you. 

You returned Helaena’s hug. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Aemond giving you a knowing smirk. 

Helaena pulled away and held you at arm’s length. “I’m so happy you’re joining us for dinner.” 

“As am I,” you replied. 

Helaena gave your arms a squeeze before she stepped back to Baela’s side. 

You stuck your hand out to Baela. “Nice to meet you. I’m Aemond’s friend (y/n).” 

Baela shook your hand warmly. “Nice to meet you as well.” 

Then Baela stepped back and Helaena looped her arm around Baela’s. 

“We’ll be upstairs in my room. Let us know when dinner is ready,” Helaena said before she and Baela started up the stairs. 

“Okay,” Alicent said as she watched them leave. Then she turned to you and Aemond. 

“Do you need any more help,” you asked Alicent. 

Alicent shook her head. “You’ve been a tremendous help. Please go have fun.” 

Aemond put his arm around your shoulders once more. “Let’s go play some video games on Aegon’s new system.” 

Aemond led you to the stairs. 

You craned your head back to look at Alicent. “If you need any more help just let me know! I’d be more than happy to.”

 Alicent gave you another smile. “I will.” 

Then she walked back into the kitchen and you followed Aemond up the stairs. 

- 

After about an hour of playing mario party with Aemond and Aegon (who you didn’t much care for because he could be crass but he had never been improper towards you so you didn’t mind him much) you heard the doorbell ring. 

“That will be grandfather,” Aemond said with a sigh. 

Aegon slumped down in his gaming chair on the ground. “I don’t want to go down.” 

Aemond clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Sooner we go say hello the sooner we can say goodbye.” 

Aegon groaned. 

You turned to Aemond. “Oh come on, your grandpa can’t be that bad.” 

Aegon looked at you with an incredulous expression. “You have no idea." 

Then you all stood and made your way to the entrance. 

You trailed behind the boys. 

You saw Alicent at the door with an older man who you figured was her father, and three younger men who greeted Alicent with smiles and hugs. You figured they were her brothers. 

Aemond had told you he had three uncles on his mother’s side. He hadn’t mentioned much about them other than they were all still bachelors, which to you spoke volumes about them as two looked older than Alicent and only one looked younger than her. 

The older man turned to Aegon and Aemond, who were now at the door.

 “Boys,“ the man cheered before greeting each one with a hug and heavy pat on the back. 

Aemond returned the hug while Aegon went limp in his grandfather’s arms. Then their uncles greeted each one. 

You noticed that Alicent had straightened her posture and kept a more neutral expression. She greeted her father and sibling politely, with none of the warmth of earlier greetings. 

There was a lot that you didn’t know about Alicent and her family but you figured it was not all rainbows and sunshine by the change in her demeanor.

“You got here just in time father. Dinner is ready and served,” Alicent proclaimed. 

Her father nodded. “Very good timing Alicent.” 

Then Alicent turned to Aemond. “Would you tell the girls it’s dinner time?” 

Aemond nodded. Then he sped back up the stairs. He reached you and started to tell you but you told him you had heard. 

So he left you and went to tell Helaena and Baela. 

You made your way down the staircase and to the dining room. 

Alicent’s father and brothers seated themselves. Her father sat at the head of the table and insisted Aegon sit on the other end. Aegon did not protest. 

Alicent came out of the kitchen with the salad she prepared in her arms. 

You went to her side. “Do you need any help bringing out the food?” 

Alicent gave you a half smile. “It’s alright (y/n). I’ve set it all on the table. You just sit down and enjoy.“ 

You nodded and followed Alicent into the dining room. You sat down on the empty side of the table. You introduced yourself to Alicent’s family as you sat down. They all gave you various levels of appropriate greetings. 

Thankfully Aemond, Helaena and Baela came in and sat down next to you. Aemond sat to your right, beside his grandfather, and Helaena to your left. Baela sat on her left, with Aegon on Baela’s left. Opposite you sat Alicent. To her left sat her brother Gwayne (as he had introduced himself to you), beside his father. To Alicent’s right sat her brothers Lyonel and Martyn. 

You took in the sight of the absolute feast that was before you. “This all looks delicious, Alicent,” you said without thinking. 

Alicent gave you a small smile, blush tinting her cheeks once again. “Thank you (y/n). You’re too kind.” 

Her father, Otto as you now knew him, let out an indifferent huff. “The roast looks a bit overdone. How long did you leave it in for,” he remarked. 

Alicent’s smile fell from her face. She looked down at her hands. “I followed mother’s recipe to the letter father.” 

Otto let out another huff. “We’ll see about that.” 

Alicent frowned. 

Your focus was pulled away from them when Aemond gently ribbed you with his elbow. 

“You’ve got the perfect seat to talk to Helaena,” he whispered. 

You turned your head slightly to get a better look at Helaena. She was too busy chatting with Baela to even notice you. 

You turned back to Aemond. “It’s not happening Aemond.” 

Aemond frowned then turned his attention to his grandfather.

Otto rose from his seat and tapped his wine glass with a fork, calling everyone’s attention. 

“It warms my heart to see the family gathered for another Christmas. A man’s true wealth can be measured by the strength of his family...and the strength of his business. I am pleased to announce that your uncle Ormund has set up a donor fund for Aegon’s first mayoral campaign.”

Alicent’s brothers clapped and cheered for Aegon. Alicent clapped softly and gave Aegon a sympathetic look. 

Aegon’s face turned a sickly pale color. He didn’t meet his grandfather’s gaze. 

You had a feeling this was the first Aegon was hearing of his mayoral candidacy. 

Otto raised his glass. “To Aegon, first stop the mayor of Oldtown, last stop the president’s office.” 

“Huzzah,” Martyn cheered. 

You raised your glass alongside the rest purely out of propriety. Everyone could tell by the look on Aegon’s face this was the last thing he wanted. 

You turned to look at Alicent who had guilt written all over her face. Your heart softened. 

Otto set his glass down after taking a drink. Then he grabbed the carving knife and fork and got to work on the roast. 

- 

The meal was going well. Until of course Alicent’s family set their attention towards you. 

Lyonel, Alicent’s eldest brother, turned towards you. “So (y/n), what’s your family do?” 

Martyn nodded. “Yeah your name sounds familiar.” 

You took a quick sip of your wine before you replied. “My family are mainly philanthropists now but our family used to own the majority of the railways in the country,” you confessed. 

“That’s right, (y/l/n) rail,” Otto chimed in. 

“Yes sir, but my father is focused on tech philanthropy now.” Below the table your palms started to sweat. Talking with Otto Hightower felt a lot like speaking with your grandfather as a child. They both had very imposing auras. 

“A pity,” Martyn responded as he shoveled another piece of roast into his mouth.

Alicent whipped her head towards her brother. “Martyn,” Alicent chided. 

Martyn shrugged. “What? Her family used to be major players in the nation.” 

Lyonel nodded, agreeing with his brother. But he didn’t stop there. “So why aren’t you spending Christmas with them?” 

You dug your fingers into the palms of your hands. You felt like something was stabbing the inside of your throat. 

Thankfully,  Alicent and Aemond came to your aid. “Lyonel,” Alicent reprimanded. 

Then she turned to you. “You don’t have to answer that (y/n). Please forgive my brothers.” 

Aemond nodded. “Yeah (y/n) you don’t have to engage my troublesome uncles.” 

Lyonel and Martyn rolled their eyes. 

Otto was silent but his piercing gaze remained on you. 

You swallowed hard before you put on a polite smile. You looked at Aemond then at Alicent. “It’s alright,” you assured them. 

Then you turned to Alicent’s brothers. 

“I came out to my family a few months ago and it's safe to say they don’t approve of my new ‘lifestyle’ as they call it.” 

Lyonel’s face went red. Martyn looked away. 

Internally, you smiled at the sight of them embarrassed. 

Alicent’s voice pulled you back to the present. “They’ll come around eventually (y/n). The love a parent has for their child is immeasurable.” 

You smiled at her. “I really hope you’re right.” 

Gwayne, who had not said much all dinner, cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him. 

He turned to Aemond. “So Aemond, how’s your fencing coming along?” 

And just like that the pressure was off you and onto Aemond. 

- 

Many minutes later the meal came to a close. 

The men whisked Aegon and Aemond outside to play ball, leaving only the women inside. 

You, Alicent, Helaena, and Baela cleaned up the table. 

Alicent and Baela made their way to the kitchen with the leftover food while you and Helaena stacked up a pile of dirty dishes. 

Helaena looked over at you. “That was very brave of you,” she said. 

You set the plate you had picked up down. “What was brave?” 

Helaena stopped clearing the table. She turned to face you. “Telling everyone your family iced you out after you came out. Coming out to your family is incredibly brave, and you’re even braver for sharing that with practical strangers.” 

You smiled and felt your face warm. You weren’t attracted to Helaena but she had an otherworldly presence that made any attention she gave you feel special. “Thank you Helaena.” 

She reached out and squeezed your shoulder. “If you ever need to talk or need support, I’m here for you.” 

You put your hand on top of hers. “Thank you.” 

Then the two of you finished clearing the table. 

- 

You finished bringing the last of the dirty dishes into the kitchen. 

Helaena trailed in after you and set her stack on the counter. “Mother, Baela and I will be in my room.” 

Alicent nodded, up to her elbows in leftover food that she was trying to shove into various containers. 

Baela and Helaena left the kitchen. 

You turned to Alicent. “Do you need some help with that?” 

Alicent struggled to secure the lid on the container as she had over packed it with food. Alicent shook her head. “I got it.” 

You continued to watch her struggle. “I don’t think you do.” 

Alicent stopped trying and stepped aside. “Okay then tough guy, you give it a go.” 

You smiled and walked up to the counter. You pressed the lid down on all sides until you heard it click. It was secure. 

Alicent clicked her tongue. "Lucky try." 

You turned to her. “Always happy to help.” 

Alicent took the container full of food and stacked it with the others. “You don’t have to hang around here (y/n). You can go see Aemond or Helaena.” 

You furrowed your brows. “Helaena?” 

Alicent turned to the fridge and started the game of stacking the leftovers. “Yes, I saw the two of you talking while you cleared the table. Perhaps Aemond was right after all. I’ve never seen Helaena take to someone new so quickly.” 

“You were watching us," you asked, butterflies forming at the thought of Alicent spying on you. 

“Why do you say it as if I was spying on you? I saw you from the window in the kitchen is all." She said with a lazy smile on her face. 

“Right....We were just talking. Besides,Aemond is out playing sports with your brothers and father and I am not a sports fan. And I would hate to interrupt Helaena and Baela's alone time,” you joked. 

Alicent chuckled. She turned to grab the rest of the leftovers from the counter. 

You stepped forward and grabbed them. You handed them to her, one by one. “Besides, I like being in your company,” you confessed. 

Alicent stopped arranging the leftovers and looked back at you. “Really?” 

You nodded. 

Alicent smiled shyly and returned her attention to the refrigerator. “I wish my own children felt the same. All but Aemond dodge my calls.” 

You shrugged. “If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m always free.” 

Alicent turned to you and you handed her the final container of leftovers. “Thank you (y/n).” 

Her fingers lingered over yours. Alicent looked down at them. She stared at them for a moment before biting her lip. 

 “What’s your verdict?” 

You furrowed your brows. “I’m sorry?” 

Alicent looked up, and took the container from you. “About my food. Was it good enough to kiss the chef?” 

Your face went hot. “Oh...uhm I-” 

Alicent placed the container in the fridge then closed it. She turned back to you. 

You were still too stunned to say anything. 

So her smile fell and she shook her head. “Forget it, it was stupid.” 

“No it’s not stupid I-," you stammered then cleared your throat. “I was just caught off guard is all.” 

Alicent stared at you, not saying anything. 

So you continued. 

“The roast was cooked perfectly.” 

Her smile returned. “Thank you (y/n).” 

You stepped closer to her. “So I do believe I will kiss the chef after all.” 

Alicent swallowed hard, not taking her gaze off you. “Oh,” she whispered. 

You stood in front of her, and looked down at her lips. “May I?” 

The last thing you wanted was for Alicent to feel uncomfortable or coerced. So you waited for her reply before doing anything else. 

Alicent gave you an almost imperceptible nod. 

You leaned in, at first determined to kiss her lips, but as you neared her skin you thought better of it. 

She was just committing to the bit, you told yourself, she didn't actually want you to kiss her.

So you placed a gentle kiss on Alicent’s cheek, inches away from her lips but still in a chaste enough location. 

You noticed a small frown spread across Alicent’s lips as you pulled away. 

But it was quickly wiped away. 

Alicent blushed furiously. She looked away from you. 

You also felt your face warm. 

You heard footsteps approach the kitchen. So you stepped away from Alicent and leaned on the counter. 

Alicent must have also heard them as she busied herself with wiping down the stove top with a nearby rag. 

Aemond appeared moments later. He looked between you and his mother, slightly suspicious, but then he shook his head and turned to you. “Aegon wants another couple rounds of Deadly Fighter 5. You up for it?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

Aemond turned and headed towards the hall. 

You started after him but turned at the entryway of the kitchen. “It was a lovely meal, thank you.” 

Alicent nodded, her cheeks still rosy. “Of course.” 

Then you hurried after Aemond. 

A part of you wished you had been brave enough to kiss Alicent on the lips.

You mashed various button combinations as your chosen fighter threw punches at Aemond’s chosen character on the tv screen. 

He was currently beating you  in the second round. 

Behind you, Aegon took a hit from his bong and blew it out in perfect circles. 

“So let me get this right, you want to fuck our mom,” Aegon repeated. 

You grimaced. “Why must you say it like that?” 

Aemond’s character delivered the killing blow to you. You lost. 

Aemond turned to you. “Aegon’s crudeness aside, he’s not wrong. I’ve seen the way you linger in the kitchen alone with her.” 

You felt your face start to warm. You cleared your throat and tried your best to appear nonchalant. 

“I didn’t want her to think I was a rude guest. No one else was helping her,” you argued. 

Aegon took another hit before he spoke again. “You know, I always thought Mom was a lesbian,” he mused. 

Aemond turned to him. “You did?” 

Aegon nodded. “She never really liked Dad, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen or heard her call a man sexy.” 

Aemond furrowed his brows. “Because Dad was a dick. Mother is a devout Catholic she would never call another man sexy. I don’t even think that word is in her vocabulary.” 

You turned to Aemond. “Your arguments for why Heleana is gay are just as flimsy.” 

Aegon turned to Aemond. “You think Helaena is gay?” 

Aemond shrugged. “What else could she be? She’s definitely not into men.” 

“She’s not into anything. She’s a freak like that,” Aegon said and laughed at his own joke. 

Aemond threw a pillow at Aegon’s head. 

It bumped Aegon’s head and knocked the bong out of his hands. 

“Hey,” Aegon whined. 

You and Aemond laughed. 

- 

An hour later, the time had arrived for you to leave. 

You descended the stairs with Aegon and Aemond in tow. 

At the bottom of the stairs Alicent was already saying goodbye to her father and brothers. She finished giving each a hug goodbye. 

Then she noticed Aemond and Aegon. Alicent asked the boys to say goodbye to their grandfather and uncles. 

Aegon and Aemond did as their mother asked and gave their family a hug goodbye. 

Helaena and Baela came down the stairs and Helaena said goodbye to her grandfather and uncles. 

Once they were gone, Helaena informed her mother it was time for her and Baela to leave. 

Alicent gave Helaena a big hug. “I’ll miss you, my bug, she said as she gave Helaena a kiss on the forehead. 

Then Alicent said goodbye to Baela, another handshake. 

Baela and Helaena made their way out the door. 

You were the last guest there. 

Alicent and the boys looked towards you. 

You dialed your cousin Elia once more. Once again you got the automated message the call could not be connected.

“I’m having some trouble with my cell. Could I use your landline?” You asked. 

Aemond furrowed his brows. He turned to his mom. “Do we even have one?” 

Alicent nodded. “Of course we do.” Then she turned to you. “It’s this way.” 

She led you to a small alcove with the landline and a seat next to it at the end of the hall. 

You thanked her and dialed Elia’s number once more. 

This time you got through. It rang three times before she answered. 

“Hello?” 

“Elia, it’s (y/n). I’m calling from my friend’s landline. I couldn’t get through on my cell for some reason.” 

You pressed the phone closer to your ear. There was a lot of background noise and you could not hear Elia very well. 

“I tried to call you. I can’t make it out to pick you up. There’s been a freak snowstorm in Sunspear. They closed all the roads and aren’t letting anyone through. I’m so sorry kiddo,” Elia lamented. 

Your heart sank. 

One for the snow storm that was probably wreaking havoc in Sunspear. It was a town that almost never got anything besides sun. 

And secondly because now you had no way to get back to your flat. 

You swallowed hard before answering. “Stay safe Elia. Please call me with updates, okay?” 

“You got it kiddo. Is there anyone else who can take you  home?” 

“I’ll figure it out, Elia. Don’t worry about that,” you said. 

The line started to fade in and out. Elia wished you a safe ride home and a merry Christmas. 

You did the same then hung up. 

Then you walked back to the entryway where Alicent, Aegon and Aemond stood. 

You shoved your hands in your pockets. “Soo...a freak snowstorm hit Sunspear and Elia can’t pick me up.” 

Alicent frowned. “Oh no, is she alright?” 

You nodded. “Yeah she’s doing okay. Uhm, so I’ll try to call my family’s driver to see if he can make it out. It might take him an hour or two to drive from High Garden but I’m sure he won’t mind.” 

Alicent shook her head and approached you. “Nonsense, you’ll stay the night with us and you can leave with Aemond tomorrow evening.” 

She reached for your hands and held them. “Got it?” 

You flushed. “I couldn’t possibly bother you all like that.“ 

“You are no bother (y/n). Now come on, let me show you to the guest bedroom.” 

Then Alicent pulled you along the staircase and to the guest bedroom. 

Aemond trailed behind the two of you. 

-

Alicent led you to a beautiful room with ample space and a fireplace. She asked Aemond to start a fire as the room could get quite cold at night. 

Aemond did so without protest and soon a fire roared in the hearth. 

Then Alicent asked Aemond to fetch you a pair of his pajamas. 

Again, Aemond did so without protest. 

While Aemond was gone you turned to Alicent. “Are you sure this isn’t an imposition? I can still call the family driver.” 

Alicent waved you off. “You’re staying and that’s final. You got it?” 

You nodded. Her dominant tone ignited a flame of your own. “Thank you,” was all you could say without giving your desire away. 

Aemond returned with a fresh pair of pajamas in hand. He gave them to you. 

You thanked him. 

Alicent clapped her hands together. “Wonderful, we will leave you to get settled. Breakfast is tomorrow at 9am.” 

You nodded. “Got it.” 

Alicent reached out and gave your shoulder a light squeeze. “Sleep well,” she said. 

You smiled. “You as well.” 

Then Alicent turned and left the room. 

Aemond stepped forward. “We’ll try again with Helaena at New Years.” 

You groaned. “Please, no more of that.” 

Aemond chuckled. “We’ll see. Good night (y/n).” 

“Good night Aemond,” you replied as you shook your head. 

Aemond walked out and shut the door behind him. 

Finally, you were alone. 

You changed into the pajamas Aemond gave you and settled into the plush king sized bed. You closed your eyes and hoped sleep would come. You decided to think about Alicent, in hopes you dreamt of her. 

You smiled. 

- 

Unfortunately, sleep did not come for you. You tossed and you turned. 

All you could think of was how much fun your family was probably having without you in St. Barts. 

Then you did the worst possible thing. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and pulled up your mother’s facebook account. 

She had already posted many photos of the family in St. Barts. They were smiling from ear to ear, tanned, and it seemed like no one cared you were not in any of the pictures. 

Your mom made no mention of your absence in the text of the post and none of the comments (mostly your mom’s pta and book club friends) asked about your whereabouts. 

You clicked through the many photos. It wasn’t until you clicked on the last photo that you lost it. 

It was a picture of your whole family (minus you), with a caption that read, “Family time is the best time. So thankful to God for allowing the whole family to join us for this Christmas getaway.” 

Tears welled in your eyes. They had completely erased you out of the family. You threw your phone across the room. 

The tears fell from your eyes and stained your cheeks. You could not stop the sobbing that followed. 

It was stupid. You were stupid. 

You should not have been crying for a family that clearly did not want you. You wiped your tears and tried to calm yourself. 

You struggled to do so but after a few minutes you were finally able to breathe normally again. 

You got out of bed and crossed the room to where you had thrown your phone. Then you picked it up. It was a little busted but nothing cracked. 

So you pocketed it and decided to go downstairs for a glass of water. 

- 

As you started towards the kitchen you noticed lights were on in the study down the opposite hall. 

Aemond had briefly mentioned the study on the initial tour he had given you. 

You wondered who else was up this late as it was well past 2am. 

So you stepped closer. As you neared the study you started to hear small cries and sobs. 

You got closer and tried to peer inside. 

Thankfully the door was ajar enough that you saw who was inside. 

It was Alicent. 

The first thing you noticed was how low cut her nightgown was. 

It was a beautiful sage green, and it hugged her body pretty tightly. Then your gaze traveled back to the low cut top of the nightgown. You knew it was wrong to stare but you wanted to take in just how stunning Alicent was. 

You looked closer and noticed her nipples peeked through the fabric of the nightgown. You swallowed hard. 

“Fuck,” you whispered. 

Then Alicent sniffled and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. 

You shook your head. She was clearly upset and there you were ogling her. 

You stepped back and tried to leave. 

But it was too late. 

Alicent stood from her seat. “Who’s there?” She called out. 

You didn’t reply. You were far enough away that you hoped by staying quiet she would drop it and you could leave. 

You didn’t want to intrude on a clearly private moment. 

“Come forward,” Alicent demanded. 

You silently cursed yourself. You had no choice but to enter the study.

[teenagerebellion]

In canon we have a good idea of what Aelwyn thinks about Adaine and also Fabian, so let me ask you, what do you think Aelwyn thinks of the other bad kids?

oh this is such a good question…! i think they’re very peripheral to her, important pretty much only in that they’re important to adaine, for a while, especially because she doesn’t really interact with any of them until junior year.

i think she’s a little freaked out by riz honestly 😭 from what i can remember her primary memory of him is him trying to steal the bottle of poison from her during the house party in freshman year, and it’s a hard cut from that little goblin boy to the tattooed, somehow more intense, gun wielding, avenging agent of heaven riz that she’s confronted with at the end of sophomore year. she mostly stays out of his way, doesn’t speak to him directly, and does her best to ignore how his eyes are following her whenever they’re in a room together.

she’s unhappily impressed by fig. fig is just such a cool girl in a way that would have been threatening to an earlier aelwyn - if she had known fig better in fhfy, she definitely would have been snobby/talked down to her bc of that threatened feeling. but getting to know her in junior year, all aelwyn can see is how genuinely sincere fig is, and how that her coolness isn’t a persona she puts on but something born of her kindness and loyalty. and that realization rocks aelwyn to her core a little bit -> so antithetical to how she was raised. so the main outcome there is begrudgingly impressed - i think she and fig are friendly, but fig’s still a bit suspicious of her and aelwyn’s unwilling to be any measure of vulnerable with someone who isn’t adaine.

i don’t think aelwyn thinks anything of gorgug at all LOL. there’s nothing there that would cause her to take a huge interest. i think at first she might think of him as a “ragh 2.0” in that he seems dumb and easy to manipulate, but being around him a bit more rids her of that idea. she just knows him as quiet and doesn’t think there’s too much under the surface beyond that - she’s not close enough to him to see the angry, witty, incredibly smart gorgug that the bad kids see.

and kristen! kristen confuses aelwyn more than anything. her impulsiveness and silliness and bluntness and deep devotion would all normally make aelwyn look down on her, and sometimes she still does in the moment. but the first time aelwyn properly interacted with kristen, in fhsy, kristen had literally just come back from the dead and then uncorrupted the nightmare king to cassandra. like aelwyn’s first true impression of kristen is that she’s an incredibly powerful cleric, and then every impression after that is of a bumbling silly girl who makes the wildest decisions ever. so it’s a mixed bag there 😭 at a baseline aelwyn respects kristen’s abilities but on a much more daily basis she thinks kristen’s unsophisticated and a bit of an idiot. but in a fun way! i really liked them trading banter in one of the more recent junior year episodes & i think that’s how their relationship would progress. i think aelwyn would try the most to form an actual relationship with kristen, because she appreciates her trying to meet her halfway.

[roseallisonparker]

I’m With You

I’m With You

Premise: soulmate!au, takes place in a world where when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, you see color for the first time.

Inspired by Avril Lavigne’s “I’m With You”

Pairing: Matt Murdock x gn!Reader

Word Count: 9.2K words

Warnings: a brief description of losing virginity, mentions of drinking, violence, fluff, angst with a happy ending, a tad bit canon non-compliant

Note: It’s taken me a few weeks to fully write this but please let me know what you think! I’ve never written for this fandom even though I’ve loved it for years. I hope y’all enjoy. Special thanks to my sisters, my friends, and the mutuals here on this site that constantly inspire me with their talent every day.

Taglist: @mattsgirlsworld @stilldreaming666 @hellskitchens-whore @bellaxgiornata @acharliecoxedfan​

I’m standing on a bridge,

I’m waitin’ in the dark,

I thought that you’d be here by now…

There’s nothing but the rain,

No footsteps on the ground,

I’m listening but there’s no sound…

Wandering aimlessly in the rain through the city's wet streets felt like the best way to clear your head from the overwhelming loneliness that arrived with your final few months of college. The party you were just at was raving with energy from a successful finals week, but seeing all of your friends celebrate the end of this chapter in life with their partners had begun to burn a hole deep in your once hopeful heart.

Growing up, you had always imagined you’d find your soulmate in middle school like your parents had. They had run into each other in the cafeteria on their first day and had finally seen each other, their worlds blossoming with their first glimpses of color. The telltale sign that they had met their soulmate. You would fall asleep to this story they had shared with you running over and over in your mind, ideas of that rainbow-filled time of your life coming true fueling your sweet dreams.

The first day of sixth grade was filled with so much excitement. You had dressed well, eyes bright with hope as you walked into the first class on your schedule, awaiting the moment when you would finally see the world turn from dull greys into bright hues.

Nothing happened that day. You had hoped for the next few days that you would finally meet him, that you had missed him in the cafeteria.

Days became weeks. Weeks became months. Months became years.

Isn’t anyone tryin’ to find me?

Won’t somebody come take me home?

Moving to New York was an easy choice for you. After all of high school had passed without ever finding your soulmate, you decided that living in a city with a high density of population mixed with a large tourist rate would be your next course of action. Getting accepted into Columbia University with a scholarship was the perfect catalyst for you to pack your things, stuff them into a Uhaul, and drive down the highway until you reached the bustling island of Manhattan.

You chose Journalism last minute as your major but lacked the enthusiasm for it until you realized just how many people you would meet and the endless number of stories you would hear from those with similar experiences to yours. It helped lessen the loneliness and disappointment you experienced and strengthened your optimism. Investigative work became something you were fond of as well. Discovering the truth and using your resources to find the answers you craved was a skill you ended up being quite competent at.

In an effort to increase your chances of seeing your soulmate, every day you’d made it part of your schedule to take a walk around the surrounding neighborhood in the Upper West Side, scanning over every single person’s face, yearning to see the sky transform into the blue color you were told it was. 

One day during your sophomore year, you were taking one of those walks with your classmate Diane, the both of you blabbering about mindless things, making your way to your next lecture. 

“No, but Professor Stevens has to have it out for me! I swear, it’s gonna be impossible to pass.” You complained while the setting sun felt warm on your cheeks.

“Oh, I’m gonna place bets on that.” She teased, nudging into your shoulder. “Don’t let me down, babe.” She jokingly pleaded, the both of you laughing when suddenly she looked ahead and gasped. You froze, thinking something was wrong but you followed her eyeline to see another woman staring back at her with the same awe-struck gaze.

You’d never seen it happen before. That all-too-important moment when two soulmates found each other was something you hadn’t been fated to see yet. But here it was, and wasn’t it a sight to behold. You captured every look on Diane’s face, the wonder that washed over her features as her eyes flitted over everything surrounding her. Her smile was beaming. Almost unknowingly, she slowly pattered over to her soulmate, the other woman looking at Diane like she was the only other person in this world.

It was truly a beautiful sight, and yet you couldn’t help but feel the envy crushing your spirit unlike it had before.

Your senior year of college arrived quickly considering just how much studying you felt like you’d done in the past few years. The first day of classes for your second to last semester came around and you had to add extra credit to your transcript, choosing the most far-fetched language Columbia had to offer: Punjabi.

It wasn’t your first choice, but you were already set on Spanish, French, and Italian 101 courses, so Punjabi it was. The lecture hall assigned for the class was small, and you chose a seat in the back.  A few other students were quietly filing in, and you still had a few minutes to spare, so you got around to taking out your notebooks. The door to the room opened, and a loud voice accompanied the action. A student with shoulder-length blond hair, a cross-body bag, and a big, infectious smile spoke to someone down the hall.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll thank me later for this.” He dismissed the unseen person, their voice popping up next.

“Let me know if that girl ends up asking for your number, Fog.” The voice said. ‘Fog’ threw his hands out and shook his head.

“Shush, I’ll update you, Murdock.” ‘Fog’ loudly whispered, proceeding to close the door. He then turned around to face the room, every student including yourself staring at the mild commotion. Eyes widening slightly, he bowed his head and made his way to the seat beside yours in the back. Once he settled, you turned to him, curious.

“What girl?” You questioned in a whisper, your eyes scanning the small group of about fifteen students in front of you.

“Huh?” He squinted, confused.

“Which girl’s number are you hoping for?” You clarified, endlessly drawn toward love stories.

‘Fog’s’ gaze landed on a pretty girl seated at the front of the classroom, his eyes softening. “Her name is Charlotte,” His voice was quiet, sharing the secret with you, “She mentioned the class being on her schedule during a party. Thought she’d maybe ask to study or something…” He trailed off. Looking back up, he grinned at you. “What about you? Why’re you taking the class?” 

Foggy, whose name you properly learned shortly after your meeting, became your friend and study partner for the class after Charlotte started dating someone in her Sociology class. 

Punjabi was a complex language to learn and Foggy was sure to attend every class to make sure he didn’t miss anything. But one day, as class passed, he never showed. You shot him a quick text. U good? Missed u at class today.

You waited a few minutes, a reply popping in. Im downtown in the kitchen. Dad in hospital.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern and you quickly typed out your response. srry. hope Dad is ok. I’ll drop off notes at dorm. Roommate in?

A minute passed, and another text appeared. Yes. tysm.

You made copies of your notes at the library and then headed to Foggy’s dorm, heading down the hallway towards his room, having never been in this particular building before. You made it to the door, and knocked quickly, calling into the room, “Hey, anyone in there?”

You heard some mixed giggling from a woman and the guy who you assumed was the roommate Foggy had spoken about. A loud bang came from inside the room followed by a few rushed footsteps, and the door quickly opened slightly, revealing said woman covered in only a button-down shirt. You felt heat rush up your face at the sight, clearly interrupting something. The beautiful woman smiled with mischief in her eyes, her panting breath puffing out of her.

“Can we help you?” She asked with her mildly accented voice, smooth and playful. You then heard a slightly familiar voice coming from deeper in the room.

“Elektra, who’s at the door?” The voice, which you assumed was coming from Foggy’s roommate, rumbled in the background. In a panic, embarrassment taking over, you quickly shoved the notes into her hands, not wanting to interrupt any more than you already had.

“These are for Foggy. Tell him I said ‘Hi’ and that I hope his dad is alright!” You squeaked out, quickly turning away and walking down the hallway and around the corner.

Matt had shuffled up to Elektra by the door, hearing your booming heartbeat and rushed footsteps heading out of the building. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he nuzzled his nose into her neck, breathing deeply. “Who was that?” 

He felt her shrug and heard her carelessly shuffling through the papers in her hands. “Looks like Punjabi…” She said offhandedly, turning into his arms, “Now… where were we?” They got lost in each other once again, the notes falling to the floor, forgotten.

It’s a damn cold night,

Trying to figure out this life,

Won’t you take me by the hand?

Take me somewhere new,

I don’t know who you are,

But I, I’m with you…

I’m with you…

You didn’t think you would ever come to this. You had spent every night walking around town, making sure your eyes met every face they could. You made the big move, you got an entry-level job at the Bulletin, a career that would help you constantly be around new people. And you had saved yourself in every way possible so that when the time came for you to finally meet and be with your soulmate, you could reassure yourself that it would be perfect. That he would have all of you.

But now you found yourself on a random guy’s couch, whiskey running through your veins, your pants on the floor, and your head spinning with the realization of what you had just done. 

You had been sitting in one of your low points, drinking your sorrows away at a dive bar around the corner. He had begun to hit on you and the sweet words coming out of his mouth sounded so lovely to your ears. His name was John. He had shared his loneliness, sensing the same coming from you. And he had asked if you wanted to head over to his place. You answered yes. One thing lead to another. He didn’t know it was your first time.

It was quick. You were both inebriated and once it was done, he had left to use the bathroom. The shame of feeling like you were cheating on your soulmate and the meaninglessness of the ordeal filled your mind quickly, and you shoved your pants back on, running out the door into the cold night. You threw up outside on the steps of the apartment, falling back and hugging your legs to your chest, crying into your knees at three in the morning.

You couldn’t live like this anymore.

Since you were a child you had been living for the idea of your soulmate. Everything from what you wore to school to your extracurriculars in high school, where you moved, which college you chose, and which major you picked.

It hurt, and it was exhausting how nothing amounted to your efforts.

One day, you decided. You were no longer going to live for your soulmate.

You would start living for yourself.

Being cuffed to a table wasn’t your idea of living for yourself.

The dim lights of the interrogation room filled you with anxiety when you wondered just how stupid it was you were even in there. You were getting close to a breakthrough in the illegal heroin distribution going on throughout the city. You finally got a name; “Steel Serpent.” You knew there had to be more beyond that, so you began investigating different leads on where production could be. It turns out, once you entered one of the empty warehouses on the pier, you gave the space a once over and found the small packet of the drug, the now familiar script on the front marking the brand you had been searching for.

Before you could even put away the evidence with your gloves to take it back to the authorities and the Bulletin, the doors to the building burst open, and two detectives with their guns drawn headed toward you quickly with handcuffs ready in their hands, reading your Miranda rights, not even saying what you were being detained for.

And that’s how you found yourself staring at your tired reflection in the mirror, refusing to say a word to Detective Blake.

On the other side of the double-sided mirror, stood two up-and-coming lawyers. Foggy was given another call from Brett Mahoney (those cigars he bought his mom were really paying off) and he recognized your name from the one class you had shared in college, and it had been quite a few years since you’d last seen each other. Matt stood to his left, speaking to the officer who had arrested you, wondering why this innocent investigative journalist was arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Why are they being held here? On what charge did you arrest them?” Matt had asked Detective Hoffman with a bite in his tone, knowing this was the same corrupt detective who had arrested Karen just a few weeks ago. He knew something was up and that quite a few cops were dirty at this precinct, and possibly every other one in this city. 

Just before the two were to enter the room to assist you, Matt got a phone call on his other phone meant for his nightly duties. 

“Please, excuse me.” He quickly excused himself to go and pick it up, hearing Claire’s screaming in the background. The Russians had found her. “Claire?”

Her muffled yells sent an immediate chill down his spine, the devil itching to claw his way free to save her. He shut the phone in his hand, turning to his partner.

“Something’s come up,” He calmly told Foggy, “Let me know how this goes.” He left the precinct without waiting for an answer, trusting Foggy to take care of this situation. 

Little did you both know that you just had your second close call for finally meeting your soulmate. 

When Matt lost his sight, one of the first things he mourned was how he would never get to know what color looked like. His memory of the world was bleak and grey, but when his senses started to kick in and paint a picture of the city around him, the world on fire was the best he would ever get. 

One night, after the accident, Jack Murdock sat with Matt as his son stitched up his wounds from a fight.

“Matty… have I ever told you about how I met my soulmate?” Jack asked softly, knowing the answer to the question, but sensing that his son would benefit from hearing about it.

“No, Dad. You haven’t.” Matt responded, feeling around his father’s forehead for the rest of the gash he was closing up, his usual swig of whiskey soothing the shakes in his hands.

“Well, it wasn’t a huge moment like you may have heard people say it is-” Jack winced as the needle entered his skin, “But it was magical.”

Matt’s hand froze, “Magical?” He parroted, intrigued. Jack nodded.

“It was about eight, no, nine years ago, and I was fighting in the ring of course. It was an open fight, and I didn’t have anyone to back me up when I was in the corner. A break between rounds came and I looked into the crowd.” His voice softened as he reminisced, encouraging his son’s hands to keep up their work.

“Your mother was there, looking at me, and the room was overwhelming me with all of the sudden color. But the timer was ticking, and I didn’t have time. I waved her over and asked for her help. To just clean my wounds and squeeze the water into my mouth. And even though the moment came and went, we both knew…” Jack trailed off. Matt finished tying off the last stitch, the quick pain snapping the older Murdock out of it.

“I was wearing red and yellow shorts that day, turns out. I stuck with them.” He finished.

It was the only time Jack had ever spoken about his soulmate. About Matt’s mother. 

When Elektra came into his life years later that night at the gala, they both knew they weren’t each other's soulmates. She had once told him that she thought she would never have one. And Matt resonated with that. He had once thought that God had punished him. That he was cursed. That he wouldn’t know he had a soulmate until they found him. 

But being with Elektra made him feel like he could go on through life without needing one. She saw that darkness in him and leeched it out, encouraging his dependency on her for making each day more bearable than the last. And when she faced him with the opportunity to finally get revenge on the man who ended his father’s life, Matt almost took it.

But his father didn’t want him fighting, let alone killing others. His father would’ve never wanted Matt to sin on his behalf. He couldn’t do it.

Even if he was fated to be damned to live life without his soulmate, he wouldn’t give God another reason to punish him. He’d at the very least have hope in that regard.

Turns out that simple false detainment without real cause was pretty illegal, and you were let out shortly after Foggy threatened to sue the NYPD, not only for your case but for a few others he had heard about. But it seemed even after you left the building with an old’s friend’s phone number and your freedom, you weren’t gonna be left off the hook that easily.

A few nights later on your way home late from the Bulletin, threatening footsteps were closing in from behind you, making your heart rate spike, your chest tightening in preparation for what was about to come. The man behind you had followed you for a few blocks and you had purposefully walked in a circle to affirm he was after you. Once the man had caught on, he decided to strike. And you were right because not even a second later were you shoved down into an alley, and a second man appeared from behind a dumpster. 

You screamed for help, your voice already hoarse from the tense energy you held in your body. You had landed on your hands and knees, feeling the asphalt scratch bloody wounds into your skin. You tried to scramble back up to run, but the second assailant had wrenched your arm to the side, pulling you into the brick wall of the building adjacent. Your head hit the wall first, immediate stars blinding your vision (definitely a concussion) and you heard their footsteps coming closer, your leg instinctively kicking out and making contact with one of them. They grumbled in pain but you weren’t strong enough, another helpless scream coming out of you. 

“Anyone, help me!” You screeched until you felt a knife placed against your throat. You immediately stilled and your breath hitched in your throat. They were speaking in a language you didn’t understand (it could’ve been Russian?) and you sent a quick prayer to the universe, feeling yourself calm down as you slowly accepted that you were probably not gonna make it out. Just as you closed your eyes you felt the man holding you shift to the side, the metal against your neck disappearing, the sounds of punches and grunts filling the alley. Another person had joined the altercation, but for the better, because it seemed like they were saving you. You kept your eyes closed, your knees giving out, falling to the ground. 

You huddled in on yourself, feeling a panic attack coming along as you reeling from the realization that you thought you were ready to die. 

You weren’t. Not really. 

And it baffled and scared you at how easily you gave up the fight.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize the sounds of attack had stopped, the only things you could make out were the sound of your heart pounding in your ears and the sound of heaving and panting coming from someone near you. You looked up to see him, a yelp coming out of your throat.

His chin was red with blood.

Red with blood.

Red.

Red blood. Faded orange lights coming from the streetlamps by the sidewalk. A dark blue dumpster. A green flyer for a dry cleaning service on the asphalt.

“Oh my god-” You let out in awe, looking back at your soulmate. The man in black that had been wreaking havoc across Hell’s Kitchen. He was your soulmate. You finally found him. You already felt the tears of relief falling down your cheeks. You smiled up at him. “It’s you.”

But something was off. He just tilted his head, as though he was listening for something. He wasn’t excited, surprised, happy. There was nothing to show that he was also going through the incredible moment of finding his soulmate. 

“Why are the Russians after you?” He gruffed out.

Your heart fell to your chest. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You’ve dreamt of this moment for your whole life, awaiting that time when you could continue through your new colorful existence hand in hand with your soulmate. And he was acting like not a single thing in his world had changed. Your chest began to clench with dread. 

You stuttered out a confused answer, your tears now coming down your face for a different reason, “I-I don’t know why… Russians? I was investigating heroin leads and money laundering schemes…” Your voice was losing energy, your eyes searching the man in black for any sign that his life was changed as much as yours just was. Your chest felt like it could concave on itself with disappointment.

He just nodded, his head tilting once more, as though he was hearing something you couldn’t, and then he began to walk toward the darkness. “Take a cab home.” He gruffly said, walking away from you, and disappearing into the night.

You watched as your soulmate left you on the floor of the alley, bodies strewn on the ground beaten and bleeding. Your heart joins them there. 

He heard your screams from a few blocks away and started running on the rooftop, quickly making his way over and under any obstacle in his way. He could recognize the Russian coming out of your assailants’ mouths and could hear the knife’s sharp edge scratching against your throat. Matt leaped from above onto the first man, taking him down to the ground, but felt the second snap into action and pull him off of his partner. 

You had huddled down on the ground a few feet away, so Matt head-butted the second Russian, kicking the first in the chin. He could all of a sudden hear your heartbeat getting way too fast, and it distracted him for a moment, one of the assailants getting an uppercut in. Matt felt blood rush into his mouth, so he spat it out, blood dripping down his chin. Fueled by the pain, he made quick work of knocking the both of them out, his attention turning to you. 

He heard your breath stutter, and your heart race once again, assuming that you were looking at him. He could taste the salt from your tears and the fear in the air. You finally spoke, “Oh my god… it’s you.”

He knew the man in black was being spoken about across Hell’s Kitchen, with residents fearing his wrath. But you didn’t seem scared. He guessed you were thankful from the sound of your smile in your words. 

But he had questions he needed answered. “Why are the Russians after you?” He’d asked.

He could hear the confusion in your voice when you answered, and even though your heart was still racing, it wasn’t skipping with any lies. You truly didn’t understand why you were being targeted. He nodded and realized he wouldn’t get much out of you. Before he could ask if you were alright, he heard some more cries for help in the distance. 

“Take a cab home.” He muttered, swiftly disappearing deeper into the alley, making his way towards the violence he craved, violence that would soothe the devil that resided inside of him. He made a mental note to call the police as soon as he got the chance to report the two bodies he left there and moved on with his night.

After Ben Urich’s murder, you had officially stopped all leads you were chasing, too fearful for your life in case you were close to cracking something open. But low and behold, with the newly named Daredevil to thank, Fisk was in prison, those involved in the money laundering schemes were arrested, and the dirty cops that had plagued the NYPD were out and gone for good.

You had decided to make a quick visit to Nelson and Murdock to thank and congratulate Foggy on his win. You appreciated the new signage and made your way into the building, knocking on their labeled door twice before entering, being greeted by the sight of a blonde woman at the desk in the center of the room. She stood up and smiled at you, “Hi there, welcome.”

You smiled in response, stating your name. “I’m looking for Foggy, is he here?”

You heard quick footsteps coming from behind the office door and Foggy burst through, his arms outstretched, a wide grin on his face. “I thought I recognized your voice.” He walked up to you and you hugged him in a greeting.

“It’s so good to see you now that everything had settled down.” You said, pulling away and giving him a friendly smile.

“It’s good to see you, too.” He then gestured towards the woman who had initially greeted you, “Please meet Karen, our lovely secretary here at Nelson and Murdock.” You shared your name and shook Karen’s outstretched hand, her energy exuding kindness and beauty.

“Pleasure to meet you. Would you like some coffee?” Karen offered.

“Oh, sure! Thanks.” You gratefully responded. You reached into your bag fishing for the item you brought as you directed your question towards Foggy, “I’ve never met ‘Murdock’, by the way. Is he in?”

“Yes, he is.” You heard a new voice come from the office on the left, a man in a grey suit, red glasses, and a white cane stood in the doorway to what you presumed was his office. He made his way over to the two of you, his hand outreached. “Matt Murdock. I wanted to apologize for my absence when helping you get out of that situation a few weeks ago.”

His hand was warm in yours, his voice was deep and inviting, and his smile was downright gorgeous. You immediately felt a strange pull towards him. You played it off as common attraction, which Matt seemed to emit naturally.

“I finally get to meet you after all this time. You were Foggy’s roommate in college, right?” You remembered briefly running into his lover as you were dropping off homework and notes for Foggy when he was out for a day. Definitely not your proudest moment. 

“Yeah, we got lucky with that, didn’t we, Fog?” Matt smirked in the direction of his friend, the two of them obviously the closest of friends. During this, you finally found the piece of paper in your bag just as Karen came back out with your coffee. “You seem like two creams, two sugars.” She said, guessing correctly. 

“Yeah, thanks.” You giggled, holding the piece of paper out to the three of them. “So, I never did pay you back for helping me out.” Foggy began to open his mouth to protest the check in your hand, but you insisted. “No, please, that was a really scary time you helped me through and you deserve the compensation for your work.” You then handed the check to Karen, who gasped when she saw the contents of it. 

Matt spoke up, “What does it say?”

Karen exclaimed, “Ten thousand dollars!” Everyone’s eyebrows rose in disbelief, and you just nodded and chuckled at their reactions. 

“I genuinely had so many savings in the bank and saw how much you guys love this city and how hard you’d work to make sure justice was served.” You’d explained, their faces still full of shock, “Not many firms can say the same.”

Foggy shook his head, “But why so much for about two hours of work?”

“Well, if it’s too much for your services, then think of me as your investor!” You took a look around, taking a quick sip from your coffee, noticing the simple state of the office space. “No offense, but maybe it could help this place feel like an actual attorney’s office?”

Josie’s was not too packed for a Friday night, and when Foggy had reached out inviting you to drinks with the rest of the firm, you accepted, hoping to drink away the loss of your soulmate. Not that anyone knew who your soulmate was. No, every time you saw Daredevil mentioned in your coworker’s piece for the week or his name splashed across the tv every other night on the news, you kept your misfortune to yourself.

It hurt. Being left there on the ground of the alley after the life-altering moment of seeing the world bloom with its bright hues. You couldn’t sleep that night and stayed up to watch the sunrise. You saw the sky blossom with purples, pinks, yellows, oranges, and blues. The sky was something you didn’t care to look at often unless it was to see if rain clouds were coming in. Now you craved the view of a crystal clear sky next to the vivid trees on the sidewalk.

With a glass of whiskey swirling in your hand, you zoned out from the different conversations at the table.  Karen was seated next to you, with Matt and Foggy opposite of you. You didn’t know how long you were silent for, pondering over just how shitty you felt when you felt a knee nudge against your leg from under the table. You looked up and caught Matt’s gaze directed towards you, his eyes hidden behind his glasses as usual. 

“Everything alright over there?” He had quietly asked, trying to not interrupt the animated conversation Foggy and Karen were having. You took a deep breath, trying to live a little more in the moment.

“Uh… yeah.” You muttered. 

“You sure? Anything on your mind you wanna talk about?” He offered. His red glasses reminded you of the blood on your soulmate’s fists. You felt a pang in your heart. 

“Maybe later.” You acquiesced. You threw back the rest of your drink and caught Matt's grimace from the corner of your eye. Your glass made a solid thud as it landed back on the table.

“Anyone wants another drink?” You asked.

You definitely needed another drink.

“And so, Matt and I walk into the conference room, most of the interns are in there already because someone’s alarm wasn’t set.” Foggy accused pointedly at his friend.

“Typical Matt Murdock.” Karen chimed in.

Matt shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ way. 

“And in the rush, all of a sudden I noticed her pink blouse. Pink! Marci was sitting there, not even looking up at me while my whole world changed. Matt was so confused why I stopped walking, he asked if we were in the wrong room, and when she heard that and looked up…” Foggy’s gaze when thinking about the memory was so fond and lovestruck.

You and Karen shared an awed gaze, reveling in Foggy’s clear emotion.

“I remember her gasp and that look in her beautiful eyes… well, the rest is history. We did have a few bumps in the road, but we eventually made it out the other end together.”

“Yeah, you did.” Matt agreed.

"Still can’t believe I got so lucky.” Foggy laughed in disbelief.

“That was a beautiful way to meet your soulmate.” You complimented. You were happy for your friend, but your voice was a little slur, the liquor you had throughout the night building armor around your heart which was useful since you were hearing someone’s normal experience when meeting their soulmate.

Karen sighed, her shoulders slumping a little in disappointment, swirling around the beer in her bottle, “You’re the only one out of all of us Fog, we’ll live through you for now.”

“He’s not the only one-“ You blurted.

You weren’t supposed to say that.

Whoops.

You felt everyone’s eyes turn towards you, their wide-eyed stares ranging from shock and excitement to confusion.

“Why haven’t you told us, what-?” Karen exclaimed.

“Oh my god, when did this happen?” Matt asked.

“And this important fact wasn’t mentioned?” Foggy complained.

“Woah, woah guys.” You shook your head, their questions hitting you quickly, but being drunk did a horrible job of keeping a lid on your information. “I didn’t tell you guys- well, I haven’t told anyone actually- because my soulmate rejected me.” You said factually, trying to not let the emotion slip in, but failing.

Your friends deflated, Karen then taking the lead. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. You must’ve been so hurt.”

“Well, it was a few weeks ago and I’m genuinely considering the theory that maybe I wasn’t rejected.” You felt tears well up in your eyes. "Maybe something is wrong with me and I wasn’t his soulmate. Maybe I’m nobody’s soulmate.”

You felt Matt’s hand touch yours on the table, a sympathetic expression directed toward you. Karen also rubbed your arm in comfort. Your grin was sad and pitiful.

“Who is the guy? Have you tried contacting him again or something?” Foggy piped up, his genuine need to help others so clear at that moment.

You shook your head, a delirious, helpless laugh coming out of you, “I can’t contact him, it’s impossible.”

“We can help. Just give us a name and we can get to the bottom of this.” Matt encouraged you.

You felt insane with your next words. “Well, if you can contact Daredevil, let me know.”

Everyone froze again, but for some reason, the air felt incredibly tense. Matt and Karen’s comforting gestures stiffened, and Foggy’s eyes wandered quickly around the table, something akin to fear and shock in his eyes. You took the sudden silence for agreement.

“See, told you. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen left me on the floor of an alley after he saw me.” You felt a small sob bubble up in your throat, “My life in an instant had finally changed for the better, and he didn’t even give a hint that his had changed as well.” You dropped your head into your hands, trying to shake the sadness out of you.

“I’m so sorry to bring the mood down, guys. Forget I said anything, please. I don’t wanna think about this anymore.” You pushed out of your chair with a screech and began to go to the restroom, not looking up to see their faces. “I’ll be right back.” You muttered.

Once you closed the door behind you, you felt the tears quickly coming back, the embarrassment of your story hitting you. You felt their stares and knew that Nelson, Murdock, and Page were a supportive group of people but you couldn’t tell if they believed you or not. Their reactions to your soulmate’s identity were confusing and hard to decipher, but the pain and helplessness of your situation came back in full swing once you finally let it out and told them. It felt freeing yet shameful simultaneously and the mix of emotions threw you for a whirlwind.

You quickly splashed some water from the sink onto your face, washing away the tear tracks, and rolled your shoulders back, hoping to walk out ready to end the night on a high note. Giving yourself one more look over, you walked back out to the busy bar, watching your three friends speaking very animatedly to each other, Karen and Foggy seeming like they were talking to Matt while he was just sitting there looking a little dumbfounded. Probably something that happened while you were gone.

You pulled back up to your seat, smiling at the group, “So, what did I miss?” You looked over their faces, silence filling the space once more. Matt’s face had lost a significant amount of color. “And why do you look like you’re gonna faint, Murdock?” Matt barely opened his mouth when he was interrupted.

“Oh, he’s fine. Karen and I were talking about the dreadful upcoming election…” Foggy interjected.

And the conversation about your soulmate was forgotten.

Or so you thought.

He had left them there.

He had found his soulmate and he was too distracted to even notice.

‘Well, if you can contact Daredevil, let me know.’

He was in too much of a shock when you said those words. He froze. He could barely think. And his friends didn’t know what to say either. The minute you had gotten up to head to the bathroom, they bombarded him.

“Matt, what the fuck-?” Karen started.

“How did you not know?” Foggy was baffled.

“-How could you leave them in an alley?” Karen was pissed.

“I could’ve sworn you both had met in college. How did they meet Daredevil before Matt Murdock?” Foggy’s harsh whisper-yell filled Matt with a confusing sense of shame.

“I don’t think we ever had the chance, I-” The guilt began to eat him alive. “I was following a lead on the Russians and heard two of their assailants attacking so I saved them but I couldn’t hang around.”

“Matt, they think their soulmate doesn’t want them. Hell, you now know you have one!” Karen exclaimed, trying to find a solution to this seemingly huge problem. “I don’t want to tell you what to do since it’s your identity on the line, but you should tell them.”

“Dude, she was heartbroken,” Foggy added, not quite forgetting just how messed up you looked like you felt.

“I didn’t notice in that alley…” Matt muttered in disbelief but suddenly remembered your words from that night.

‘It’s you.’

You had tried to tell him. It was quick and easily a misunderstanding, but he didn’t sense how devastated you were when he was leaving. And you of course didn’t know that Daredevil was actually blind and couldn’t see so you mistook his lack of reaction for both of the worst-case scenarios possible.

God, how could Matt ever reject you when you’re what he’s been waiting for his whole life?

He had given up hope for years, settled for less, and pushed relationships away through self-sabotage because nothing ever felt quite right. It was really just his luck that he’d met you in the way he did, in a way that would mess up everything.

You returned to the group, your heart beating steadily in your chest, and in an overwhelming realization, the sound became the most important thing to him. Your voice was a treasure, and your scent was cherished, your presence was all-consuming. In an instant, it was like all of his senses were attuned to you, and Matt didn’t know what to do about it but run.

Quickly finding his voice, he interrupted, “I’m gonna head home for the night guys.” Gathering his coat and briefcase in his arms, he then turned to you.

“I’ll see you again next week?” He carefully questioned. He heard your heart skip at the question, pleased that it seemed something about you was tuned to him as well.

“Yeah… for sure, yeah.” You nodded, your breath hitching when you realized he was speaking to you specifically. You wished you could see his eyes from behind his glasses because something was telling you that his gaze was deeper than it had been. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

He grinned with tight lips and took a breath to say something, but stopped himself, shaking his head and going for a simple, “Good night.” Matt walked out of the bar, leaving you echoing the sentiment as you wondered why Foggy and Karen were giving you strange looks and why Matt had suddenly left you craving more of him than ever before.

‘Next week’ came two nights later in the form of a visitor you weren’t expecting.

Even with the streets of Hell’s Kitchen feeling safer than they did before, your hand was in your bag, keeping firm contact around your taser. You made it around the corner of your block, the flickering street lamps unsettling you, when a clang from above frightened you.

Quickly looking up, you saw a shadowed figure on the fire escape above, your stomach dropping to the floor, fear flooding your system. A scream began to bubble out of your throat when the figure leaped from the platform, but it was quickly paused when you caught sight of the short horns, the deep maroon of the suit recognizable. You flinched and took a few steps back, startled by the sight of your soulmate and confused why he was there in front of you.

“What do you want?” Your words were cold and questioning, the weeks of pent-up pain and betrayal fueling the anger behind your question. Daredevil flinched at the sound, his voice gruff as he spoke.

“Can we talk somewhere private?” He requested. Your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, and your anger almost made you refuse him immediately. But you couldn’t deny the need to hear what he had to say, to understand why he didn’t want you even if the answers hurt you.

“My apartment is a few buildings down. You’re welcome to come up, but I don’t think there’s a way my neighbors won’t see you.” You offered nervously, wringing your hands together after a sudden bout of anxiety. Daredevil gently nodded.

“They won’t see me.” He responded softly, moving into the alley nearby.

“But it’s this way-” You gestured to your right, confused.

“I’ll be there.” He assured, slipping into the darkness.

You stood there for a few moments, dumbfounded, but made your way to your building, trying to tame the anticipation building in your heart. Once you locked your apartment door, you set your bag down and walked further into the living space, waiting for the sign of your soulmate’s arrival. 

A few knocks on the window to your left made you jump, the figure on the fire escape giving a small wave. You walked over, unlocking and opening the window. 

“So that’s what you meant, huh?” You teased as you backed away, and the absurdity of the moment made you laugh with a hint of shock, especially when you took in the sight of The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen standing next to your couch. He chuckled as he closed the window, the sound pleasing to your ears. But you sobered up very quickly, clearing your throat and settling on the couch, taking the initiative, “What do you want to say?”

He took a deep breath, his body language a little shy, and nodded, “Well, I’d like to explain myself… and tell you how sorry I am for what I must’ve put you through-”

“Why?” You interrupted.

He stood bewildered “Why am I sorry-?” 

“No, why did you leave me there?” You stood, the built-up frustration flowing out, “Did you not want me? Are you already with someone else?” Your voice quivered a bit, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

He whispered your name and shook his head, taking a few steps closer.

“Why did you act like nothing happened, like it wasn’t the best moment of your life-?” 

“I didn’t know!” He exclaimed, his hands reaching out helplessly.

You froze. “What?” 

“I didn’t know… I couldn’t have.” He explained as he stepped closer, and you couldn’t help but let him.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, confused as ever.

“I… I’m…” He stuttered as he struggled with his next decision.

“You’re what?” You implored, not quite expecting what came next.

He ripped his mask off, and suddenly you were staring into Matt Murdock’s eyes for the first time, his gaze landing around your shoulder. His breathing was heavy and yours felt stuck in your throat.

“Oh.” You muttered, your knees feeling a little weak at the onslaught of information that you just absorbed. You took your seat on the couch once more, not trusting your legs to hold you up. 

Matt stood still as his eyes begged for understanding, “Please tell me you’ve realized why I didn’t treat you like you deserved.” He spoke quietly, slowly walking to where you sat, kneeling on the floor by you, “If I had known, I would’ve gotten down on my knees and thanked God for your existence…”

The tears in your eyes overflowed at the sight of your soulmate in front of you. He gently rested his hands on the sides of your knees and reverently placed his lips against them, next reaching for your trembling hands to hold them in his own.

“I would’ve kissed your hands, and asked for your name…” He continued, and you noticed the shine in his eyes, your hand squeezing his in return, as his gaze pleaded for mercy, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He whimpered guiltily.

“Matt…” You whispered as your palm laid on his stubbled cheek, “I understand.” It all made sense now, and you felt the anger and hurt slowly leave your soul. You comfortingly kissed his temple and rested your foreheads together, a small smile gracing your face. “I forgive you.”

His lips quivered in relief, your cheek being caressed by the back of his hand. “I don’t deserve you.” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his head bowing down before he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his ear to your chest, the beating of your heart sounding so sweet from that close. Your hands felt for his shoulders as you embraced him, pressing another kiss to the top of his head, reaching to run your fingers through his mussed-up hair.

Matt shuddered at the feeling of your hands on his back and craved more, pulling away and leaning closer to you, his digits running over your lips, “May I?” He hoarsely whispered.

He felt you nod, your voice breathless as you pleaded, “Please.” 

And his mouth met yours, your lips curiously getting acquainted with each other. Your sharp intake of breath at the sensation of the kiss encouraged Matt to lead with all the passion he felt. You leaned further into him, taking and giving as the sensations almost overwhelmed the both of you. Nothing had ever felt this right in your life.

He slowly raised over you, adjusting both of your bodies lengthwise om the couch, your hands running over the hard planes of the suit, his lips still connected with yours, a certain heat expressed in his movements. You pulled away, panting, running your fingers over Matt’s face, admiring him.

“You’re so beautiful,” You softly spoke as your breath mingled with puffs of air, your nose nudging into his, and your eyes closed as he guided his lips over your features, worshipping every part of you. You wrapped your arms around his figure, shuddering when his hips pressed into yours, his stubble rasping against your neck. “And we should take this slow.”

He took your suggestion literally, slowing his intent kisses, pulling himself up to his hands, “Would you like to stop?” He asked with concern, his eyes still glazed with an emotion you knew you matched.

You nodded. “Yes, please.” He began to sit up, but you grabbed his hand before he could fully get off the couch, “I don’t want you to leave.”

A soft smile graced his features, the fond look directed towards you causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. He squeezed your hand in return, “Would you like me to stay?”

“I would love for you to stay the night…” You lowered your head in mild embarrassment, “I’m not ready to let you go yet.” You admitted.

He shook his head in agreement. “Where’s your bathroom so I can get out of this?” He gestured to his suit, and you giggled as you pointed to the far end of the room.

“It’s over there.” You told him, and he began walking, awe filling your brain as you tried to wrap your head around how he did what he could. “How do you do… everything you do?” You struggled with how to explain his nightly duties.

“Well, for one, I wasn’t born blind.” He started, not closing the door or turning on the light in the bathroom as he began to strip the suit off. “I lost my sight when I was eight in an accident where chemicals spilled into my eyes. My senses became incredibly heightened and I was trained by someone like me to hone in on them and use them to fight.” He explained his past and his abilities and you tried your best to not to stare at his bare chest through the dimly lit space, his chest piece off and on the ground.

“Your senses? Like, echolocation?” You questioned as you moved into your bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes yourself.

“Well, yes, but it’s not just my hearing that’s amplified, it’s everything else as well.” Matt’s voice sounded closer to bedroom, and you froze at his words.

“Everything else?” You nervously inquired, pausing at your drawer as you looked for a shirt that could fit Matt.

“You had sushi earlier today from that shop down the street. You’ve got eggs, leftover rice, garlic, and an onion in your fridge.” He took a few steps closer to your bedroom. “I can hear your neighbors on the first floor watching Jeopardy. And your heart is pounding.” You could hear the smirk in his words, and turned around to see him clad in only black compression shorts, feeling your heart race some more.

Matt moved his way closer into the room, continuing his list of things, “I can tell your shampoo has tea tree oil and the scent of it is fresh in your hair, so I’m assuming you washed your hair either this morning or last night.”

“Last night,” You confirmed, your eyes wide at the impressiveness of the information he was providing you with, your voice stuttering nervously, “S-so you really can sense everything, huh?”

He nodded with a cocky smile, pausing a few feet away from you. God, he looks glorious, you thought.

“Does that make you nervous, sweetheart?” He teased.

“No!” You lied, feeling so nervous with your really attractive soulmate just a few steps away from you calling you such a sweet name.

“Are you sure?” He asked, closing the space in between the two of you, your change of clothes and the shirt you found for him bundled up close to your chest. “I can also sense when people aren’t telling the truth, you know.” 

You anxiously giggled, shoving the shirt into his hands, walking around him and heading towards the bathroom to change for the night, “Uh… do Foggy and Karen know about your nightly duties?” You diverted, hoping to change the subject away from you.

Matt nodded, “Yeah… they didn’t find out in the best way” You detected disappointment and regret in his tone. “They don’t want me to be out there every night.” He admitted. 

“Because you get hurt?” You assumed, walking back into the living space where he was now clad in a shirt, waiting for you.

“I did… I do,” He looked down, guilt overshadowing his next words, “And I will get hurt. This isn’t something I can just stop-”

“Matt-” You interrupted him, sensing where he was going with this, and you walked up to him, resting your hand on his arm, “Is that what you want? To stop?”

He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes and shaking his head, “No. I don’t. I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t.” You said it like it was the simplest of solutions, and Matt was shocked by your generally calm and accepting reaction to his second life, “You’ve made a difference in Hell’s Kitchen, Matt. You’ve saved me amongst countless others when the law failed to.” You explained, finally able to express your gratitude for his selfless heroics. It became clear to you at that moment just how good of a person your soulmate was. Not only did he spend his days helping people without payment, using his knowledge of the law, but he also spent his nights saving those who were tormented by the evil that worked in the darkness.

You had always known that you would love your soulmate, but Matt was genuinely someone you could love not only because of who he was, but for the kind of person he was.

How did I get so lucky?

You looked down, continuing, “I don’t want to pretend like I won’t be nervous and worry about you when you’re out there, but please don’t feel like you have to change who you are. I want to be a safe place for you to be who you have to be.”

Matt simply wrapped his arms around you in response, trying to convey his appreciation for you with his tight, secure embrace. He sighed once more, tension leaving his body slowly as you ran your hands up and down his back.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He mumbled, but you quietly shushed him and place a small kiss on his cheek, grabbing his hands to lead him to bed. Once you were both settled, he nuzzled into your neck, the front of his body pressed against yours, your legs entwined.

You were silent for a few minutes when Matt interrupted the quiet, “I’m shocked you didn’t know the Russians were after you.”

You gasped in faux offense, “Woah, I was close to the heroin production sites and the script on the packets was in Mandarin! How was I supposed to know the Russian Mafia was connected?” Matt’s huffs of laughter warmed your heart, the feeling of cuddling with someone you were meant to care about filling you with happiness.

“I dunno, maybe Daredevil has to help this journalist once in a while to help connect the dots.” He jokingly suggested, rubbing his hands up your arms, his voice gruff with the late night.

You giggled, “I’ll take all the help I can get.” You closed your eyes, feeling sleep begin to overcome you.

“What are we gonna tell people when they ask how we met?” You asked, every bone in your body relishing how calm and content you finally felt.

Matt’s breath was warm against your ear when he sleepily replied. “We have the rest of our lives to figure that out.”

fin

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU // Chapter 1

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Original Female Character Pairing: eventual Stiles x OFC, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 4.9k Warnings: canon typical gore/violence, parental death, descriptions of burning, depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author loves lesbian poets and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: Four years ago, Drea Dickinson's entire life fell apart. Her mom died, her best friend replaced her, and all she could do was watch listlessly while everything else burned down around her. All she wants is to forget and maybe get through her sophomore year without flunking chemistry and completely unraveling at the seams—a seemingly impossible task with the sudden appearance of ghosts from her mother's mysterious past and a hair-raising beast ripping people apart all over town. It would be easier to pretend if she hadn't accidentally entwined her life with the most interrogatory bastard in town. She could have gone her whole life without meeting Stiles Stilinski, and she would've been perfectly fine, but now she's stuck knowing that she's made her bed in the fragile, breakable bones of the boy with all the answers. Chapter Summary: After her annual interrogation with Sheriff Stilinski, Drea meets his son who turns out to be very handy with jumper cables, poetry recitation, and incoherent babbling.

A/N: This is an entirely selfish project. This rewrite has been so incredibly nostalgic, and I may or may not have cried a few times because the TW era was such a special time of my life. To be 17 again, sigh. I wrote a very bad version of this in 2014, and I cannot believe it has been 10 years!!! I'm almost 30! Impossible! The 10-year anniversary is entirely coincidental but still a wonderful, serendipitous happenstance. I'm re-watching the entire series with my little sister, who is coincidentally 17, and good god I just miss the TW, TVD era. Bring back the cheesy teen monster shows that give perpetual fall vibes PLEASE. You can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight)!

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

Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.

Before her mother’s death, Drea would have picked fire. Every single time. 

She never liked the cold; never really had to get used to it growing up in central California—but the crux of her argument, the twisted logic behind it all, was that most burn victims died from suffocation before they felt the flames. A small mercy, really, in the face of unspeakable tragedy. 

In the end, however, statistics were just numbers, her mother didn't die from smoke inhalation, and there was no mercy in burying a parent before you were old enough to have children of your own. Nothing ever ended poetically off the page. Death was just death, and it was always ugly. Someone should really tell that to Robert Frost, Drea mused, biting at a raw hangnail.

The medical examiner said the actual cause of death was pulmonary edema; at least, that was his best guess based on the state of the body. He didn’t say that she felt everything, her skin peeling back into her flesh, her flesh liquefying into fuel, her joints flexing into contorted pleas until the fire incinerated her last nerve ending. He didn’t have to; Drea connected those dots all on her own. She’d been twelve at the time, not an imbecile. 

“I’m sorry to drag you through this all again.”

Drea flitted her eyes away from the flickering lightbulb above Sheriff Stilinski’s head and met his gaze; it was nauseatingly sympathetic. Her responding shrug was a small, little thing—more like a twitch in practice, “Not your fault.” 

Her yearly visits to Sheriff Stilinski’s office were solely her father’s doing, even if no one wanted to admit it to her face. Most mayors would use their political power to get their child out of a police station, not into it, but perhaps Mayor Dickinson stopped being her dad somewhere between the funeral and now. 

“If you could start—”

“From the beginning,” Drea smoothed her thumb in small circles over the armrest of her chair, attentively tracing patterns into the polished wood, “I know.” This was, after all, the fourth anniversary of her first interrogation. She’d become somewhat of an expert at being a useless witness. Drea picked at her uneven cuticles before continuing, “Mom put me to bed around 10:00—which was kind of late for a school night, honestly, but she let me stay up to finish another chapter anyway.” The right corner of her mouth twitched for a brief moment, “Nancy Drew: Password to Larkspur Lane. I told her that forcing someone to go to sleep in the middle of a mystery was specifically forbidden in Geneva Protocol II.” Her mom had been far too indulgent of her lip on most occasions, but that night she didn’t smile at her snarky aside. She let her finish the chapter because she was too tired to argue; Drea could tell. At the time, she saw it as a victory. Now, it kept her up at night, the drooping lines of her mother’s mouth spilling over the pages of whatever book she was trying to read.

Drea bit down on her tongue when a stray splinter snagged against the soft pad of her thumb, “Dad was out of town, so it was just the two of us. Mom always put me to bed when Dad was gone; said it was the only way she could get to sleep. Had to make sure my window was locked.” She paused for a long moment: everything went dark after this. Her mother kissed the top of her head, murmured, ‘Love you,’ turned out the light, and then that was it. Drea woke up in the hospital, and her mom was dead. 

A bead of sweat dripped onto her top lip. The air in the Beacon Hills police station was, without fail, sticky with heat and body odor—and it wasn’t just the oppressive Californian sun. Even in the winter, a person could choke on the stifling warmth. Idly, she wondered if it was a matter of interrogatory tactics or budgetary constraints. 

“And then,” Sheriff Stilinski prompted gently, though they both knew how the story went from here. She had told it to him and a dozen other officials at least a hundred times in the last four years. 

Drea bit down on her thumbnail and winced when her teeth snagged on the tender nail bed, “And then nothing. I opened my eyes, and a nurse said that you found me on the front lawn.” 

“You don’t remember how you got outside?” 

Drea shook her head, staring past the Sheriff's shoulder. Large pieces of dust floated through the air, highlighted by the slivers of light trickling through the blinds. Suddenly, she had a newfound appreciation for the lack of fans in the room. 

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over his jaw, “You don’t remember saying it was an angel?”

Blinking slowly, Drea looked at the grim line of the Sheriff’s mouth and gripped her knees tightly, digging her fingers into tawny skin until her wrist cracked, “I should, right? I was twelve. I should remember something—that’s what everyone thinks. That’s what my dad thinks.” Her eyelids fluttered to a tight close, and her voice went so quiet she could barely be heard over the hum of the copier outside the door, ���He thinks it was me. That’s why he makes you question me every year.” She pulled the sleeves of her jacket over her fists and gnawed on the soft lining of her cheek, “He thinks you’ll finally figure out how I did it.” 

Drea was scared to open her eyes as the silence stretched between them. They’d danced around the subject before, hinted and twisted around the heart of it, but they’d never truly discussed how it looked from the outside. Sheriff Stilinski had been kind enough to give her a few different excuses over the years: trauma, head injury, oxygen deprivation, plain old grief—but whatever caused her temporary amnesia wasn’t so conveniently explained. In fact, currently, she still had no explanation at all. When she finally peeked through her lashes, clumped together with frustrated tears, Drea couldn’t quite figure out what expression the Sheriff was making. He leaned back in his desk chair and frowned, “I’m sure he doesn’t—”

“He does,” Drea cut him off. Her eyes went flinty, deep brown darkening to something far more ashen with the resolve of her anger. She never had any trouble reading her father’s face; the disgust was thinly-veiled between the flickers of fear. 

Sheriff Stilinksi leaned forward so that she had no choice but to look him in the eyes. They were kind—more tired than usual, but still kind. They always were. That was one thing Drea remembered from that day, waking up in the hospital to Sheriff Stilinski’s kind, watery blue eyes, just before the entire world fell apart. His voice was gentle, but firm, when he finally spoke, “I don’t.” 

Drea nodded numbly and pulled at a fraying string on the hem of her denim skirt until the thread snapped. 

“I mean it, kid. They couldn’t identify the source of the fire. They couldn’t even find an origin point; no twelve-year-old could pull that off.”

Drea chewed on her bottom lip, “Could anyone?”

Sheriff Stilinski’s brow furrowed, and his mouth screwed up into a crooked line, like he was chewing on his words and deciding if he should swallow them or spit them out. “I wish I had all the answers for you. I really do. Not knowing, it’s worse than any truth.”

Drea blinked up at him for a moment, once again taken aback by his raw sincerity, and swallowed hard. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to have the answers; he was the one who was supposed to ask the questions. There was one failure in his muggy office, and it wasn’t the Sheriff. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “Not your fault.”

He looked like he wanted to argue the point, but whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by the sharp ringing of the phone on his desk. “I have to take this, but if you remember something, or if you just need to talk—”

“My dad spends a small fortune on a psychiatrist and a behavioral therapist for that,” Drea stood up quickly, shouldering her bag. She forced the corners of her mouth into a small smile, tight at the edges like a sheet that had been stretched too thin, “But thank you. For everything.” 

The Sheriff’s gaze darted to a framed photo on his desk. Drea had seen it before, on one of her many visits to his office. It was of a boy—his son, she assumed—he looked like he was around five or six at the time. He was grinning, wide enough to show off his missing incisors, and his fingers and wrist were stained cotton-candy blue from a melting popsicle. She must’ve been that happy once, right? In the beginning, everyone was unencumbered by the weight of imminent mortality. Maybe that’s what Sheriff Stilinski was thinking, too. He looked away from the photo and gave Drea a small smile, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Drea gave a half-hearted wave before wrapping her fingers around the strap of her backpack and walking to the parking lot. 

The sky was grim, a mocking reflection of expression on her face. The spite in her eyes hardened when big, fat raindrops splattered against the apples of her cheeks. For a moment, she just stood there, glaring at the rain and cursing the cosmos for their utterly unamusing sense of humor. A jeep pulled into the parking lot, and the squealing engine startled her back into reality. 

Unfortunately, the search for her car keys was a considerable endeavor. Typical. Drea stacked her textbooks and binders onto the hood of her sedan, haphazardly throwing her jacket on top of the pile to protect her painstakingly penned Kafka essay from the rain. By the time her fingertips brushed against the cool metal of her keys, her hair was damp and curling at the ends. 

The momentary relief was short-lived when she pressed the unlock button five times and the accompanying beep didn’t sound, not even once. For an absurdly long minute, all she could do was rest her forehead against the driver’s side window, breathing heavily until condensation gathered next to her mouth and the drizzle speckled dots onto the sleeves of her thin cotton shirt.

“If you’re trying to charge the battery through osmosis, it’d probably be more effective to smash your head against the hood.”

Drea jumped, and then flinched again when her keys clattered against the ground. She caught a glimpse of the phantom speaker in the side-view mirror; bizarrely, he looked just as surprised as she felt. She turned around, apprehensively—objects may be closer than they appear n’all—and tried to swallow her rapidly rising heart. 

“Sorry,” the boy pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down and had the decency to look contrite, “big mouth.” He rubbed a hand over his chapped lips. “It’s a real problem. It’s so big, actually, that my foot just slides right in there like…all the time,” he gestured animatedly with a flat hand, a quick sliding motion, like a fish through water.

Drea blinked at him, slowly, and bent down to reach for her keys, “Might wanna see someone about that. Sounds unsanitary.”

“Eh, it’s hardly the worst thing I’ve put in my mouth,” he said, eyes widening into horrified round circles the second he stopped talking. A faint flush creeped up his neck to his ears, and Drea’s heart dropped back into her chest. Slashers and ax murderers didn’t blush. Probably. She hadn’t ever met one, but it seemed like sound logic.

“Choking hazard,” Drea hummed, leaning back against her car. Her fingers traced a small dent in the door, the cause long forgotten, “It’s definitely still a choking hazard.”

The boy grinned before fixing his expression into something on the cusp of severity, “I’m about 95.7% sure that anything bigger than a fist is completely mouth-safe.” He held up his fist and nodded sharply, “Make that 98.3% sure.”

“98.3?” Drea’s brow arched.

“Maybe even 98.9.” 

The buzz of a lamp post hummed above their heads as they stared at each other with little smirks until the quiet made Drea sink her teeth into her bottom lip and big-mouth drum his fingers against his forearm. 

“So,” his sneakers squeaked against the slick asphalt as he shifted his weight, “you need a jump?”

Drea pursed her lips and ran her eyes over the front of her car, “I might give osmosis another shot. 30 seconds is hardly a fair trial.”

“Of course,” he hummed, “you gotta be fair.”

“We are in front of a police station.”

“Well,” he scratched his cheek, “it’s not a courthouse.”

“Technicality.” Drea was slightly horrified when she finally noticed that she was smiling. The sensation felt like it had escaped straight out of the uncanny valley and latched onto her face like a parasite in need of a host. It only took two weeks for muscles to atrophy; years must have completely decimated the fibers in her cheeks. “I guess I could use a jump. If your offer was an offer and not a hypothetical.” 

“Smart choice.” The boy rapped his knuckles against the hood of her car and said, “Steel’s probably pretty low on the permeability scale.”

“As opposed to a skull.”

He snorted and then nodded towards the large lump of books and papers covered by her freshly dampened jean jacket, “You should probably move your stuff. Y’know, ‘cause of the very un-permeable battery.”

“There’s that,” Drea sighed and started stuffing her things back into her backpack, shaking it violently until her notebook finally slid past her chemistry textbook, “and flunking English isn’t high on my list of things to do this weekend.”

His gaze flickered back and forth, rapidly cataloging every corner and crevice of her face. Drea tilted her head, brows pinched, and stared back at him with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. His eyes, she noticed, became a peculiar shade of brown in the yellow glow of the setting sun and the fluorescent light of the lamppost. More like honey, she realized, more like honey than irises. Something finally clicked behind them. "You,” he pointed aggressively, “you go to Beacon Hills.”

Drea pushed his finger away from her face with her own, “Safe bet, considering there’s exactly one option for the next 2,000 square miles.”

“You’re kind of a smartass, you know that,” he muttered as he struggled with the trunk of the jeep parked one space to her right until he finally wrenched it open with an almost guttural grunt.

Her lips parted briefly, and then she grinned drolly. It was refreshing, not being treated like some fragile little creature who would buckle in the knees—or possibly set something on fire—at the slightest confrontation. “Kind of?”

“Total.” He nodded decisively before sticking his head and torso into the depths of his trunk. “Completely, entirely, and wholly a smartass.” There were various clanging sounds until he re-emerged with a pair of jumper cables, “Never noticed that in class. You don’t really…say anything.”

Drea bit back the snark poised on the tip of her tongue. When people looked at her, the only thing they saw was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She was the daughter of the woman who burned to death on Cedar Street; Drea Dickinson’s mom died, and she was there. It seemed like that was all she would ever be in Beacon Hills. 

In the grand scheme of things, it was better to be no one. 

High school had been her chance to slip into social obscurity—more kids, more drama, less discussion of homicide by arson—so she took it, wholeheartedly. She kept to the corners of classrooms, away from extracurriculars, and her mouth resolutely shut. 

“I try to exclusively bring the smart and leave the ass at home,” Drea finally replied.

The boy’s eyes drifted downwards for a moment, and his voice did a funny, squeaky thing when he said, “I should give that a go sometime.”

“10/10 would recommend. No one bugs you—and teachers never throw erasers at your face.”

“So you do remember me,” he grinned a little and rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt before unlatching the jeep’s hood and propping it open.

Slanting her head, Drea watched his profile. There were moles scattered across his cheek and neck, and his angular jaw clenched as he struggled with the knotted cords in his willowy fingers. “Vaguely,” she said faintly. It was coming back to her in pieces. That was life after twelve for Drea Dickinson: bits and pieces. Everything was made up of the disquieting moments when she surfaced from the haze and into the present. It should’ve felt like a lungful of air, but it didn’t. It always felt like choking. 

He wiped his grease-smudged hand on his jeans and then extended it towards her, “Stiles.”

She took his hand, despite the strange formality, and shook it—mainly because of the black streaks staining his pants. “Drea.”

Stiles’s brow wrinkled, “I thought it was Andy.”

Drea hadn’t been Andy for what felt like a very long time. Four years, in fact. There were several reasons: her mom called her Andy, and she wanted to become someone else, anybody else—but ultimately the deciding factor was ‘Andy Arson.’ The nickname stuck around far longer than she thought it would. With a last name like Dickinson, Drea really thought the tweenager taunting would go in a different direction, but thirteen-year-olds had a knack for latching onto a person’s deepest-seated insecurities. Middle school, she mused, was a tragedy all on its own. 

“Nope. Just Drea.”

Stiles examined her face, and she saw that flicker in his eyes again: the light of recognition. “Well, Drea’s cool, y’know, in comparison.” His fingers twitched a few times when he connected the clamp to the coordinating battery terminal, and Drea’s eyes widened. She held her breath in her sternum until she registered that he hadn’t been electrocuted. He was just naturally tweaky, she concluded. It was either that, or he had jumped one-too-many engines in the last 24 hours…unless it was hidden option C, and he was actually tweaking. Unlikely, given he was on his way into a building teeming with cops, but far stranger things had happened in Beacon Hills. 

The longer she remained silent the more parts of his body started to move. Stile squeezed and unsqueezed the black clamp in his hand and drummed on the side of her car with his unoccupied fingers, “Like, Andy—no offense—doesn’t exactly strike fear or confidence in the heart. I mean, I wouldn’t trust Officer Andy to save my ass in a shoot-out, and I definitely wouldn’t trust Dr. Andy to cure my unknown, incredibly rare, incurable disease.” 

“No one could cure your incurable disease. That’s quite literally the entire definition of the word.”

“Sure,” Stiles connected the last clamp and glanced at her over his shoulder, almost checking himself in the chin with a large shrug, “but I’d buy that Dr. Drea could.”

Her mouth parted for a second, and then she closed it before she could say something impulsive. “That’s not even how it works; I’d be Dr. Dickinson.” 

Stiles winced, “Brutal.”

“Yeah,” Drea sighed and rubbed her palms over her arms until the goosebumps prickling her biceps receded into her skin.

Stiles looked back at her again, and his mouth wormed its way into a little frown. His head disappeared into his trunk, and after a moment a lumpy maroon mass hurtled towards her face. She caught it before it could smack into her nose, and she clutched at the soft material until she realized that the projectile missile was actually just a sweatshirt. 

Stiles was staring at her when she looked up from her hands. A small, unsure…something squirmed over his face, and she felt a little stupid, just standing there, hoodie limp in her arms. It happened a lot—more than it should after so many years. The invisible quicksand materialized in the strangest, most insignificant moments. Drea blinked, completely brainless, at simple questions, stared aimlessly into her closet until her second alarm startled her into snatching the first shirt her fingers came in contact with—clasped at a stranger’s hoodie until the rainwater pooled on her lashes dripped into her eyes.

Robotically, Drea thrust her arms through the sleeves and tugged it over her head, “Thanks.” The sweet scent of grass clung to the fabric, and there was something earthier underneath it, something like evergreen. She smiled slightly, combing her baby hairs behind her ears, “I almost forgive you for being a dick about my name.”

Stiles’s shoulders unwound as he scoffed, “At least people can say it without seizing.”

Drea looked at him and tilted her head, eyebrows crawling towards the bridge of her nose.

Stiles waved his hand in the air and extrapolated, “My full name is—just trust me. Dick jokes aren’t the worst thing in the world.”

“No,” Drea chewed on her lip, “they aren’t.”

There was a moment in middle school where she was tempted to plant the seed of something incredibly stupid and irresistibly raunchy, something like, ‘Andrea wants ‘Dickinsideher,’ because even that was better than a name with matricide as the punchline. But it didn’t take when Jared Cartwright soft-launched it in PE, so Drea seriously doubted it would ever catch-on from the target herself.

She cleared her throat, “But they are almost as bad as stye jokes.”

“Uh, absolutely not. Eyesores are nowhere near as gross as dick’n nu—” Stiles coughed, throat bobbing as he swallowed, before finishing his sentence with an audible question mark, “…phallic imagery.”

Drea pursed her lips, “Pus beats penis on the ick meter by at least 23 points.”

Stiles’s eyes glimmered in the fading light, “23?”

“Maybe even 24.”

Another bout of silence fell between them, but it wasn’t so restless this time—even after Stiles torpedoed his body through his passenger seat. He fought with his keys for a while until the correct one slid into the ignition. 

The jeep’s engine hummed pleasantly in the quiet as Drea let out a soft sigh, dropping her head back against her car window. The rain had stopped somewhere between trying to unlock her car and now, but she couldn’t quite recall when. The chill wasn’t so bad, she realized, without her foul mood casting a shadow over her head.

Stiles landed back on his feet and leaned against the jeep. Drea could feel his gaze on her again. A tickling sensation trailed down her spine as she fiddled with her keychain. It was old, a gift from her parents on some birthday she couldn’t remember. Paint had chipped off in most places after thoughtlessly throwing her keys every time she came home, but she could still make out the M and Y of the orange ‘Mystery Machine’ logo.

Stiles hummed for a moment and then said, “I’m Nobody. Who are you?”

Drea stared at him and waited for the punchline. It didn’t come. Instead, he shifted from one foot to the other and fumbled over each following syllable. “You know, like…Dickinson,” he waved his hands around, seemingly searching for some sort of cosmic relief. “I thought it would better than a dick joke, but upon some seriously belated reflection, I realize that you’re probably tired of corny assholes qu—”

“How dreary,” Drea interrupted, quietly but loud enough to be heard over the rumbling jeep, “to be Somebody.”

Stiles’s jaw snapped shut; it was his turn to blink at her stupidly. He smiled a little and ran his hand over his buzzed head, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t know what she was agreeing with, only that she wholeheartedly did.

“I forgot that part.”

Drea clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and shook her head, “It’s the best line.”

“It might have something to do with my species landing somewhere between microscopic bacteria and radioactive cockroach on the high-school social food chain,” Stiles said dryly. His face remained impassive, like he was talking about something benign as the weather. 

Drea tilted her head a little and a timid smile unfurled over her face in time with the swell of familiarity blooming beneath her ribcage, “Then there’s a pair of us.”

His cheeks dimpled when he smiled back at her, “I do remember that one.”

“Well,” Drea slid her hands into her back pockets and shrugged, “it is the best part.”

Stiles squinted at her and then laughed.

Drea felt a bit like laughing too, so she swallowed thickly before she could choke on the impulse. She took a step backwards and curled her fingers around her keys in her back pocket, “I should probably try start my car…y’know, before you start reciting, ‘I Felt a Funeral, in My Brain.’”

He nodded, taking a step towards his jeep, “Solid plan. ‘Because I could not stop for Death’ would be next.”

Drea slid into her car and stared at the steering wheel, wrapping her fingers around 10 and 2 and silently calling upon every deity she’d ever heard of to end her suffering. Stiles seemed nice enough, but she seriously doubted her smalltalk capabilities were up-to ‘ride home’ standards. Perhaps, she should revisit her resounding dedication to atheism, she thought, as the engine sputtered in protest a few times and then came back to life. 

Stiles flashed two thumbs up through the window. The smile on his face was positively goofy, but his dismount from the jeep was somehow even goofier. He stumbled over his large feet a few times before regaining stability. Drea bit back a smile when he shot her another thumbs up, this time through the dash as he removed the jumper cables from her battery.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans again; at this point, she was convinced that they were beyond saving, but Stiles didn’t seem concerned. He tapped against her window before stepping around the open door, “You should probably let it run for a while. Take the scenic route home; enjoy all the Beacon Hills hotspots open past 8:00 pm on a weeknight. I personally recommend the Rite Aid or Walmart.”

Drea snorted, “Maybe I’ll swing by the Preserve. I hear the woods are especially beautiful in the foreboding darkness.”

“Don’t.” Serious was an odd look on Stiles’s face. Drea decided that she much preferred the goofy grin. “Don’t go anywhere near the Preserve. It’s officially cordoned off—totally locked down, quarantine-zone-central. Something about flesh-eating, parasitic plant life.”

“As completely real and unobtrusive as that sounds,” Drea drawled, “don’t worry about it. Literally every single person in town knows about the body they found in the woods.” It was bound to happen, small town and all—and ‘woman dies in deadly animal attack’ was the most interesting thing that had happened in Beacon Hills since the intersection got a Target two years ago. “I’ve seen every installment of Friday the 13th and The Blair Witch Project. If I’m going to be murdered, I refuse to also be humiliated by a cliché C.O.D.” 

The manic expression on his face softened to a relieved smile and then again to a little smirk, “So what’s a certified fresh murder, then? Not that I doubt the depths of human depravity, but I think society killed off originality a few centuries ago.”

Drea thought back to a house fire with no origin, accelerant, or discernible cause. Apparently, not. “You know what they say,” she sighed, “life finds a way.”

Stiles tilted his head, “And death.”

“And death,” Drea agreed, staring at a small chip in her windshield. The cracks had just begun to spiderweb out from the pit. 

Stiles looked like he wanted to say something, and he looked so much like the Sheriff with his face twisted around thoughtful contemplation that she couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to make the connection. The boy in the photo had grown up. How unfortunate for him. Stiles swallowed whatever it was that was lingering on his tongue and shut Drea’s door. He leaned his elbow against the window frame and cocked his hand in a stiff little wave, “See ya in English, Dickinson—both of you.”

“Awful,” Drea’s nose scrunched as she buckled her seatbelt, “terrible, dreadful. A solid 25 on the ick meter.”

Stiles grinned and held up his hands, “I’ll think of something better by Monday, promise.” 

Drea put her car in drive once Stiles was safely a few feet from the wheels and flicked her damp hair over her shoulder, “I dwell in Possibility.” What a scary place to be, she thought as she watched Stiles disappear in her rearview mirror. Possibility. Hope. Life. She was chronically good at surviving; cockroached her way out of every horrible thing life squashed her with. Lately, all she could do was cling to her heartbeat and the warmth of her skin, until she was barely more than roadkill. A walking carcass was a far cry from living, but Death would not stop for her, so she stopped looking for him. She kept treading water, took her pills, stopped existing—she was a lot like Schrödinger’s cat that way: too stubborn to live, too stubborn to die. She didn’t know what to do if someone unsealed the box and forced her to choose. That was the trouble with possibility; it required far too much uncertainty.

[letsgetrowdy43]

The Timeline ☆—

Au Masterlist!!

Honey was born and raised in Plymouth, Michigan.

Her father was the equipment manager for the USNTDP U18 team, meaning that she spent a lot of time surrounding the sport and the culture.

Her whole life revolved around training camps, away games, spending most of her Christmases in other countries to attend the world juniors

With this lifestyle of constantly being on the move, she spent a good portion of her life taking in new cultures, learning and admiring travelling around the world, which led to her love of photography

Quinn was the first Hughes she met in Michigan before the rest of the family moved down for Jack to follow in his footsteps.

The other Hughes' moved into town and basically took over the hockey scene, meaning that she spent a lot of time around the family of five

When Quinn and her had originally met it was around their sophomore year of High school and Quinn was all heart eyes for her.

The poor boy could not form a coherent sentence around her, everything was mumbles and whispers until she was asked to photograph some portraits for the USNTDP

Her father had gotten her an internship with the communication team for the program, and after many complaints about how the teams needed better graphics, they finally gave her creative liberty over the Instagram page.

So now they sat in an overly lit room, a camera in her hands and him in full gear as she listened to his coach's wishes for the photos.

At this point in their life, they had only ever talked within classes when their moms were carpooling their brothers, or in passing.

So the moment the coach left the only noise remaining in the room was the humming of the air-conditioning.

Quinn's mouth ran dry as she put the camera up to her eye to size him up in the viewfinder, her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as she examined his side profile. Quietly thinking to herself "omg this guy is like extremely attractive" her eyes roamed around his features.

"I had no idea you were into photography," he said sheepishly as she messed around with the lighting and the backdrop, she moved over to reposition his stance and position now, fixing the jersey that draped over his frame to better show off the Team USA logo

"It's a hobby I picked up in junior high, while in Sweden for a tournament," a smile danced on her lips as he mimicked the pose she wanted him in.

Memories of that particular WJC flashed through her mind as she remembered her and her older brother opening a gift each on Christmas Day, hers being a new Canon camera. Something she'd never expressed an interest in, but something that soon became one of her greatest passions.

"The media thing is something my dad wants me to pursue" She shrugged as she found herself standing in front of him, fingers raking through his hair to make it sit just right.

She had barely noticed that she had done it until her eyes met his, shock displayed across his features as his cheeks turned bright pink.

From that day on she had basically been attached at the hip to Quinn, wherever he was, so was she.

The nickname stemmed from Ellen calling her honey, Quinn thought it was endearing thus forth he claimed it as his own.

Luke and Jack had settled for the nickname Hun, at first it was mockingly, but then it just stuck.

She was his best friend throughout his time on the U18 USNTDP Team, his runs at the WJCs, his draft day, and up into his time in the NCAA

Her original plan was to attend MSU and gain a degree in communications through their program, but the thought of growing apart from her favourite Hughes felt too bitter

So instead, and after quite a bit of convincing from Quinn, she followed him all the way to Umich to pursue a career in media and sports management.

The summer going into their sophomore year was his NHL draft, the entire Hughes family was in Dallas, nerves racking their brains as they awaited Quinn's name to be called.

Honey sat prettily, dressed up in his favourite colour (to match his suit) as his name was picked to go 7th overall.

A wide grin on her face as she watched him hug all of the friends and family around him, landing lastly on his best friend who he just smiled at softly and hugged tenderly, allowing her to place a kiss on his cheek before he walked up to receive his Canucks jersey.

they began to date in their sophomore year, after a lot of dancing around the subject Honey.

Honey was the one who made the first move as they unpacked his thing sin his and josh's new dorm room. A shy smile of his face as she pulled away breatlessly, smirking at the flush on hi cheeks.

they dated throughout their sophomore year, it felt like they were on a tightrope for a good amount of the year though, knowing that by the end of the school year, it was more than likely that Quinn was to be sent out to Canada.

And just as expected Quinn was in Vancouver by the end of the spring semester.

The long-distance was definitely not kind to them, with the time difference and the fast pace of their lives, both decided it was best for them to take a break.

They sat down during Christmas of her junior year and his off-week and decided it was for the best for them to break up, and then possibly pick up where they left off after she finished her schooling

That didn't exactly go to plan, because as soon as the off-season started and she was home for her summer break the two of them were literally attached to each other once again.

Let's just say although they were not together they were definitely taking advantage of being able to hook up at any given opportunity

Luke and Jack definitely chirped the fuck out of Quinn, they had seen and heard their fair share of the couple over the summer

The summer came to an end, and although it had been a whirlwind of emotion Quinn thought it was still a better idea to let Honey go out and be single for her last year.

On the day of her graduation Quinn showed up on her front door step in a suit and a gift in his hand, he didn't know how she still felt about him but he wanted to make it known that he wanted her.

she opened the door, a grin on her lips as he blushed at her pretty appearance, and pressed a small gift box in her hand.

"I do not expect you to uproot your life for me, but I want you to know that I want you in my life" he whispered, as she opened the gift box in her had to reveal a key to his apartment.

Two months later and the two of them were packing up all of her essentials and sending them off to Vancouver.

Honey started a job as a media manager for a Bridal store, acclimating to the life of an NHL girlfriend (too which she slayed)

The following Christmas (2021) was when they found out that they were expecting warren, too which prompted Quinn proposing to her

I love a good shotgun wedding and 100% this wedding was an outcome of the unplanned pregnancy but Quinn and Honey were on cloud 9 the moment they find out that they were going to be parents

Ellen and Jim were just over the moon, they love Honey, they love Quinn, and they love the couple, and they were just so excited to be grandparents.

Warren was born in October, in Vancouver, both sets of in-laws flew in along with the couple’s brothers.

Parenthood came on extremely easy for Quinn, and a little less easy for Honey, but eventually, they worked out the kinks and she finally figured out motherhood but in her own light.

They had their second baby in the summer of 2024, welcoming their baby girl Hayden into the world

Life was perfect for them, their two babies, and their happy marriage, and then a media manager position opens up for Honey which opened many more opportunities for the content family

[lucindaspartnerrealandtrue]

This was supposed to be a timeline for all the mys ships that did/might happen in my rewrite(which isn't even started but shh). It ended up being just me ranting about mys!Garrance.

At first, it follows smh. But then. It's just me rambling. Well. It's me rambling in general.

tw for mentions of homophobia and smoking.

Now, now, i think i've been neglecting these two recently. Honestly I don't even remember how I started shipping them but I did, and years later here I am, still drawing and writing about gay block men.They're literally engaged in mys and no one is convincing me otherwise(<- this whole thing will get its own post eventually). Uhm, okay, now that I got that out of my system, maybe I should give some actual hcs.

◇ Garroth is a year older than Laurance.

◇ They used to be close friends when they were little(most of the mys cast knew eachother in childhood at some extent), but once they entered their teenage years they grew apart,and the fact that Garroth and his family moved away when Garroth started high-school not helping their situation.

◇ Garroth did his freshman year and a bit of his sophomore year in O'Kasis Academy, but due to not being able to fit in ended up moving to Phoenix Drops High(after a lot of complains and pleases from him and Zianna towards Garte).

◇ Well, when he got in PDH, Laurance has been there already for like half a year(he was a freshman), and was already hanging around the Shadow Knights, so as you may imagine Garroth and Laurance didn't really got to interact a lot.

◇ In that summer, Laurance and Gene broke up for unknown reasons. The entire school, of course, found out about that.

◇ Garroth did try to get closer to Laurance that year. It did not work.

◇ Laurance spent that year mostly alone, with the daily interruptions of some people who were trying to try their chances with him.

◇ They started finally getting closer again when the 'canon' started(Laurance's junior year, Garroth's senior year)

◇ Aph basically made them interact by befriending them both and making them sit together every single day.

◇ Regardless, Laurance and Garroth started hanging out together on their own not long after.

◇ Laurance fell first. Garroth fell harder.

◇ They never got together in high school, actually, though it was pretty obvious they liked each other.

◇ Originally, Garroth didn't even realise he caught feelings. Man was busy, ok? He was thinking about college, and besides, his father would NEVER accept one of his sons being queer-

◇ The realisation that he is, in fact gay hit him like a brick.

◇ Regardless, that's a subject for another time.

◇ Aph and Travis, the best wingmen EVER.

◇ They were hyping up Garroth's every move. It was very obvious what was happening, for everyone but Laurance, that is.

◇ Laurance had long rants about his 'secret crush'.

◇ it was not a secret.

◇ They were very in love. But a bit too stupid.

◇ Anyway. Garroth leaves for college next year(thankfully for him missing most of the Ein situation)

◇ Laurance weeps the entire year.

◇ He still finds ways to make Garroth visit though

◇ Be it complaining about forgetting his lunch and being too busy to go and get something for himself or being about cigarettes.

◇ Garroth, of course, 'falls for it' every time.

◇ Laurance finds out Garroth was planning on cutting off his family entirely(temporarily, he regains contact with Zianna and Vylad a bit later on. He litteraly wakes up with Zane going to a college close to his)

◇ Basically, he takes Laurance with him.

◇ But first, Garroth goes to his last family dinner for a while, Laurance there's to. Garte isn't pleased.

◇ Well, they clearly make an exit.

◇ They're dating at that point, sharing their first kiss in the car. Very romantic.

◇ While college they share an apartment somewhere close by.

◇ When they meet the rest of the cast ABSOLUTELY NO ONE is surprised that they're dating.

◇ Of course, after college, they move in together, somehow being persuaded by Dante to let him move in with them.

◇ They get engaged in Emerald Secret, I'll expand on that eventually.

◇ Pet names. A lot of them. From both sides.

◇ They don't do pda a lot because Garroth doesn't feel comfortable doing so, but behind close doors, Garroth IS the clingy one

◇ They're still holding hands almost 98% of the time,though

◇ It doesn't bother Garroth that much that Laurance smokes, but he still tries convincing Laurance to do it less and less.

◇ Which actually works because Laurance does smoke much less than he used to! He is trying to give up on it completely, not only for Garroth but himself. But of course, as any addiction, it's hard.

◇ Anyway. They aren't very jealous. Of course, there is some type of jealousy there, but it's rare, and they usually talk it out privately.

◇ Kisses.

◇ They are hyping up each other constantly.

◇ I just like them being happy, ok?

◇ As I said before, mys!Garroth is a dog person, mys!Laurance is a cat person.

◇ Yeah, so...Ungrth and Raven. Not so much of mystical creatures in this one, are they?

◇ Those two are their kids. They don't actually really want actual human kids. Not now, at least. Maybe later.

◇ Their idea of the best date is lying on the couch together with some snacks while watching crappy movies

◇ It's a bit hard when a certain someone is blasting music from the basement(cough Travis cough)

◇ They love him tho

◇ They also miss Dante sometimes(<- moved out eventually)

◇ Laurance knows how to play the guitar. I think you know what he has done with this ability.

◇ It was in private, though. Garroth might have sobbed a bit(/pos).

◇ Laurance also blasts music while he does his part of the chores. It's country music. It's the only time when he actively listens to it.

◇ Something about his fiancé and country music combined is very attractive to Garroth.

◇ mys!Garroth doesn't know how to cook(does not stop his from complaining about Laurance's way to do things tho, in a light-hearted manner, obvs). mys!Laurance is a very good cook.

◇ Garroth likes reading a lot. He sometimes reads to Laurance before sleep.

◇ They're eachothers comfort.

◇ Cadenza made it clear that if they ever have a wedding, SHE'LL design the suits. Of course, no one complained.

◇ Speaking of, the Zvhals adore Garroth.

◇ The Ro'Meaves. Uhm. Well. Garte dislikes Laurance. A lot. Zianna adores him, though! Vylad and Laurance are friends(I have yet to work on their dynamic in mys, so that's all I have for now). And then there's Zane. Mys!Zane and mys!Laurance are the best yet worst frenemies you'll ever meet.

◇ Speaking of, Garte hates more the fact that Garroth is dating Laurance than the fact that Garroth is gay.

◇ He got used to Garroth's 'queerness'. But not with Laurance.

◇ Laurance doesn't stand Garte either for obvious reasons.

◇ They went over for a family dinner once. Yeah. It was even worse this time.

◇When they first started dating, journalists were all over them. Garroth hated it, Laurance wouldn't have cared too much if it didn't bother Garroth.

◇They are being left relatively alone nowadays

Yeah, that's all I have for now. Thank you for actually reading all this, and pls ask me stuff about the cast or other ships. I'm always happy to rant about them or hear others do it

[mothswitheyes]

hi!! u mentioned wanting to explore night yorb era on that one post i made, & i LOVEE missing scene kind of stuff so i wanted to know what you had in mind!! :) - @teenagerebellion

Ooo excuse to ramble about my thoughts

A little bit of context but I was someone still VERY much in the special interest zone when junior year was announced, specifically post-canon/Night Yorb era, there were a few fics around about it and specifically the idea of possessed Riz (which a lot of the fandom generally headcanoned) rlly intrigued me? SO I was vaguely planning to write something and then the completely unexpected happened, junior year was actually announced.

I LOVE “theoretically canon compliant” fics that fill in the blanks, so what we got is literally the best I could ever ask for, giving just enough to fill in with barely ANY specification of what actually took place.

So I really wanna write a fic following all the canon information we get on the summer! And specifically filling in all the blanks on how they get from A to B in terms of character development. Why is Riz so focused on keeping the group together and how/when does he learn magic (or at least get his magic items)? When does Kristen go from blanket burrito depressed into a gym bro who is feeling at distance with her goddess after such a beautiful ending in sophomore year? What does Gorgug’s following of his artificer interest for something other then his girlfriend look like? Or even silly stuff like Adaine getting all her little guys.

Also I wanna make those NPCs people. I hate to say it but there is some interesting dynamics with them and the bad kids, the only one I can think of off the top of my head is that I can’t really think of any other time Riz is particularly close to an NPC that he isn’t previously close to before the story (besides Ragh maybe)? Also whatever narcissus bullshit was going on between Fabian and Ecaf.

I just think it’d be interesting to try to bring them over cleanly from the finish in sophomore year to the general turmoil going on in junior year, aswell as trying to make the final battle a Satisfying Moment of a theoretical “season” while still making junior year feel good?

I don’t have a lot blacked out of Genuine Events yet, but I will probably be posting about this more soon, since I am gonna rewatch Junior Year combing through for every Night Yorb mention, and maybe asking for some opinions on things I may include.

[happi-tree]

well. obligatory normscary ask. but as a back up if youve already gotten one of those - figayda beloveds

Hihihihi Travvy hope you're having a wonderful day!!! 🧡🧡🧡Now. OBLIGATORY NORMSCARY ANSWER. And also a Figayda answer bc I love them also!

Normscary: Ship It (💙💜) / Don't Ship It

What made you ship it?

Um. Blinks at you. Points at you. Ssdbghsbfkbsbhbs at first I didn't ship it at all bc I was so very into Oakworthy and whatever Scary/Erica/Margarita have going on in my brain, respectively, but your insistence paid off and also multishipping is beautiful forever <333 And then this all happened to coincide with certain events in canon and I was like. Okay yeah. Yeah I get it now.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

Speaking of canon events! I really, really, really like how these two have grown to foil and parallel each other in SO many interesting ways. Which personally adds more fuel to the shipping fire for me! Very two-sides-of-the-same-coin meets opposites-attract imo. Like I said with Cheerkicks, they both have a lot more in common than I think they're really aware of, if that makes sense!

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I don't think so! I just think they should kiss. I also really enjoy them as being part of a polywagon situation or as Marloakworthy <333

Figayda: Ship It (❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥) / Don't Ship It

What made you ship it?

This feels like too easy of an answer, but Sophomore Year! I remember scrolling through Fantasy High fics on ao3 after finishing Freshman Year and being like ??? Oh there's someone related to Aguefort??? And they're popularly shipped with Fig, of all people??? Huh. Guess it must be a SY thing. Smash cut to me giggling and kicking my feet upon getting introduced to Ayda and being absolutely overjoyed bc the only thing I could think about was "oh this ship is going to be so cute isn't it I'm going to be feeling like this abt them constantly???" And I was right!!!

What are your favorite things about the ship?

Truly just the. Unlikeliness of it all. Cloistered wizard pirate harpy lady falling hard for the rock n roll wild child tiefling bard with a heart of gold,,, and then said bard being such a bisexual mess about her own feelings in response. The panicked "I kiss her and then I skateboard away!!!" lives Rent Fucking Free in my brain at all times. Also Emily and Brennan portray their relationship so beautifully??? Like truly they had me tearing up at multiple points. I think Fig and Ayda both work very hard to understand each other and communicate properly and that earnest aspect of it combined with all the giddy fluffy high school romance stuff is like kryptonite to me. Congrats you two that's almost the best anyone has ever done it!!!

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Honestly??? I don't think I've poked around in the d20/Fantasy High fandoms enough to know what is and isn't a popular opinion about them. So I'm gonna echo what I said for Normscary: I just want them to kiss!!! And cuddle. And be cute. Forever <333

Bonus: some live reaction screenshots of me reacting to figayda. That you have already seen. Bc I was talking to you afvashvfhksvfs. But I felt that they should also be immortalized here bc I have not been Visibly Insane abt them much online (yet) (if something bad happens to them in Junior Year I will never recover) <3

Text descriptions under the cut!

[Image 1: A Discord message from "happi-v". It reads "Travis. Travis HELP I’m watching ep 12 of sophomore year and I’m barely containing the urge to yell with excitement" "I can’t believe AYDA was the one to shoot her shot first you go you funky little autistic phoenix girl!!!"]

[Image 2: A Discord message from "happi-v". It reads "YEAH (keysmash)" "I just pressed play again just to pause almost immediately and bang my hand on the table. They’re so fucking CUTE travvy"]

[Image 2: A Discord message from "happi-v". It reads "It was so funny bc I was scrolling through ao3 after finishing freshman year and was just like ??? Oh??? This Ayda person sounds interesting but I don’t know if I’m gonna fall in love with her or anything. And with Fig,,, huh. Okay. I was a FOOL Travvy. A fucking fool. I love Ayda so much"]

[END ID]

[flanneryculp]

hello, CEO of the basic eight!!!! those characters are my little skrunklings and i’m so glad to see your ever constant posts about them, when the book is so underrated! give me some HCs about them please!! middle names, birthdays, childhood experiences, anything! but of course, only if you’d like to or have the time. love your blog!

— pinterest anon

oh man this might be my favorite ask i've ever received, thank you so much! it makes me a little sad to think about how little recognition tb8 got, but at the same time, it's nice to be in a fandom of five people who all know each other. like a book club! :) these are silly and not based in canon, and i change my mind on them all the time.

@ellington-f3int and i were talking about this--i headcanon that flora and rachel state become friends post-canon.

in my mind rachel was always the black sheep of her family, and her dressing up goth and writing terrible edgy poetry was her way of rebelling against her parents' strict conservative upbringing.

flora eventually grows a little resentful of tert/the talkshows both because of how strict they are, and because there’s a part of her that’s still loyal to her friends and isn’t fond of the satanism accusations.

while tert and mr. and mrs. state are on tv to spread an agenda and become famous, flora and rachel feel more distanced from the situation than ever. they feel weird about having this tragedy turned into a Media Sensation, and that they're participating in it. though they're initially wary of each other, they end up getting close since they’re the only ones who can understand each other.

their kinship develops into a real friendship, where flora is the #1 fan of rachel’s emo poetry and rachel will happily sit through as many guiness world record facts as flora has to offer

rachel still hates the rest of the eight, though

---

so you know how tert talks about a possibility of natasha being based on a counselor in training flan knew? i have so many thoughts about that. i think she was maybe a year or two older than flan, and they met on the summer between middle and high school. anyway, flan and natasha v. snuck out in the middle of the night to a corner store, and flan helped natasha v. dye her hair in the camp bathroom. it was stained with black hair dye forever (kind of paralleling natasha helping flan wash off adam’s blood) and it was such a keystone experience for flan that she always thought of natasha with black hair.

---

i think most of them met at different points in their lives, but were all close friends by sophomore year. before their group formed, they were all pretentious but in different ways.

a specific example i have in mind is of v____, lily, and douglas all being friends since fifth grade. they met in the orchestra classroom and bonded over a love of classical music. v____ dropped viola in middle school because of having too little time to practice, but still is a classical music buff (though not to the extent of lily and douglas). those three were the most pretentious of anyone in late elementary/early middle lmao.

kate was a big part of bringing them together, because of her knack for knowing Literally Everyone. flan and kate went to the same elementary school for years but didn’t get to know each other well until middle school, when they were in the same play together. they gossiped backstage and realized they had a lot in common.

---

flan is absolutely a child of the dare program. of course she thought it was pointless, but from the way she’s horrified at her friends smoking in the end (while not caring about absinthe) shows that something must have stuck lol.

---

jennifer rose milton always has the best stationery. a whole box of glitter pens in every color, and those fancy mechanical pencils. she’s also really good at drawing and quite passionate about it. she likes doing landscapes and drawing what she sees in front of her when she has a moment to just sit. her school papers are covered in little doodles.

---

height headcanons:

1. flora (5'0)

2. kate (5'1)

3. v____ (5'3)

4. lily (5'4)

5. (flan 5'5)

6 (natasha 5'5 but she has better posture than flan + usually wears platforms/heels)

7. gabriel 5'7

8. jennifer rose milton (5'8) (shes tall! you can’t convince me otherwise! ^^)

9. douglas 5'10

10. adam (6'0)

---

some short ones!

natasha and v____ both have huge sweet tooths and love going out for desserts together. :)

lily has insomnia and usually takes chamomile tea before bed. she’s actually become really good at making tea and has a bunch of different varieties

natasha is a big fan of hole (the band). she plays the live through this album in the car with flan often

flan and natasha have slightly different handwriting and if you look closely you can tell which one of them wrote something. but the differences are subtle--both write in messy, jagged print

flan and natasha sometimes go to the library and specifically look at the terrible ya/poetry section and spend hours reading each other the worst lines they can find and laughing til they can't breathe

gabriel is really good at first aid and healing most injuries. also if one of his friends gets sick, he’s always the first to visit them and makes sure they have what they need (homework, medicine, FOOD <3 <3 <3)

douglas gets along really well with his sister and they managed to stay in touch despite her being in college (until senior year, where he talked to her less and less. rip)

kate was always a leader, even when she was little. she was always the person who volunteered to pass out the papers in elementary school. once when she was in second grade she got into a pretty nasty fight over who would be the line leader

before she got into the guinness world records, flora used to be really into mythology

in elementary, flan used to get in trouble during group reading time because she would always read way faster than her classmates and be done while everyone else was still on page 4. this is when she started to hate school

adam is ambidextrous

in elementary school, jennifer rose milton was the girl who’d braid your hair during storytime. :)

---

there are almost certainly more i'm forgetting, but those are the ones i can think of right now! thanks again for the ask <3

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@allvalleyskillschallenge

Prompt: Back to School Pairing: YasMoon Cheerleading AU (? Is it even an alternate universe? I think it's just canon lol)

Honey, when you hold me Pretty as your trophy, you'll see Keep me where I belong Candy on your sweet arm 'Cause you were born a dreamer And I was born to be your...

Cheerleader Screaming to the bleachers I could make 'em all believers Cheerleader Anyone can play But I will be the one to change the game

Riding on your coattail Making sure you don't fail miserably Blow smoke and I'll breathe in Bet it feels good to be king Better to be a queen, yeah And I was born to be your...

Cheerleader Screaming to the bleachers I could make 'em all believers Cheerleader Anyone can play But I will be the one to change the game

Baby, take me, I'm the best Compared to all the girls on the Internet Trust me, love, I triple checked They are all beneath you And I was born to be your...

Cheerleader Screaming to the bleachers I could make 'em all believers Cheerleader Anyone can play But I will be the one to change the game I will be the one

***

@karatecaulfield pspspsps

SO. Hilariously enough, I've wanted to do some cheerleader!YasMoon content from the jump (I mean, Moon canonically is on the cheer squad, and Yasmine is certainly popular enough to be), but then this damn song popped up on my Spotify and like??? Did my girl Luna Shadows just drop the most YasMoon song ever written??? I MEAN.

"Riding on your coattail, making sure you don't fail miserably" "Blow smoke and I'll breathe in" "Bet it feels good to be king, but better to be a queen" It's literally just S1 Moon about Yasmine??? Absolutely SCREECHING (just like these gay-ass girls did the instant they saw each other at the prom ajdhbkydfjvb)

...so after that, making something cheerleader!YasMoon related was absolutely obligatory XD

I've actually had this lil moodboard tucked away for a while, but I figured hey! With the "Back to School" prompt for allvalleyskills and it also being homecoming season and all, what better time to finally post it and do some loredumping???

Definitely think Yasmine was on the cheer team with Moon--at least for her freshman and sophomore years. I'm conflicted on whether or not she'd quit for junior year, after The Wedgie Incident. It's possible the other girls started bullying or teasing her about it to the point she just didn't want to do it anymore.

I also think she got onto the cheer squad via nepotism XD Basically her mom or older sister or some other invested family member harassed the cheer coach until they let her on the team. Tbh she's not very good at cheerleading and barely tries because she knows her family will bribe coaches to not boot her off the team XD

With that in mind, though!!! Also totally possible after Yasmine got wedgied, her family was so embarrassed that they stopped bribing the coach to let her stay on the team. It was kind of a twofold punishment for making her family look bad and a way to get Yasmine out of the spotlight so she couldn't embarrass them further.

Moon also ultimately got on the cheer squad with some nepotism-based string-pulling, but she's a natural at it! She has all the pep that any assembly could ever want XD She climbed the ranks very fast and managed to become co-captain by sophomore year. She's lined up to be captain for senior year!

During Yasmine and Moon's freshman year, there were a lot of stolen makeout sessions behind/under the bleachers, both before and after practice. They also became pros at finding spots to make "hidden makeout corners" during football games--while they weren't out on the field, obviously!

They've definitely seen But I'm A Cheerleader. They're definitely fans of But I'm A Cheerleader.

Yasmine is also continuously pissed about how the entire movie is just. The world's most on-the-nose callout of her personally. Moon thinks this is really funny.

They really love using cheer as an excuse to be like. As fucking touchy-feely as possible without arousing suspicion. Everyone needs to partner up for a little dance routine? Surprise, Yasmine and Moon paired again! Standing completely pressed up against one another in a pyramid base? Well, they have to provide a solid foundation for the flyer! Insisting on catching each other when one does a flip stunt? Well, they're the most synced on the team! It'll look the best at football games, and when they're responsible for each other's safety, they're basically guaranteed to not fuck up! They really just will not stop pushing the envelope regarding how fruity they can be before it's not just Gals Being Pals anymore. Shockingly, the cheer team is dense enough that it goes completely over everyone's heads that Yas and Moon are definitely like. Exploring each other's bodies heavily as soon as they get a little privacy.

They've also ended up on top of each other in the wake of botched practice pyramids several times. The coach still believes it's a coincidence.

Moon is a great spotter because she cares so much about everyone, and is super attentive when making sure the whole team is safe! Yasmine is usually a shitty spotter because she gets so wrapped up in and anxious about whatever Moon is doing. To the point where...she ignores the entire rest of the team XD Like Yasmine please at least 5 girls are falling to their deaths because you can't take your eyes off Moon's ass in that cheer skirt girl get it TOGETHER

Okay, that's all I got for now! I busted my ass researching cheerleading and reading first-hand accounts from ex-cheerleaders for these, please appreciate them ajksdhkufhyu

Kinda focused on red cheer uniforms here because I'm pretty sure red is canonically one of West Valley High's colors! Like correct me if I'm wrong, but I think there was a red "go mountain lions!" sign behind Miguel and Demetri in that one "that's hooker talk" scene in S1.

I DO think it's a crime against nature that we've never gotten to see Moon (or Yasmine, for that matter!) in her school cheer uniform D: BUT on the other hand I'm kinda grateful, because you just fucken KNOW the creepy conservative reddit dudebro fans would be making every gross comment under the sun if she had even MORE cute short skirts to wear :( Fetishizey straight men do not deserve Moon OR Yasmine!!! Take my girls away from them and never give them back!!! Access denied!!!

As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!