iamseriousthistime

[theamazingannie]

Straight people’s reactions to gay people asking them not to go to gay clubs is exactly why gay people don’t want straight people in gay clubs

[babybluebex]

of pubs and profs [tom holland smut]

➽ pairing: prof!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 4.7k ➽ summary: you have what you consider the best night of your life, but discover that it was with the worst person possible. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, fingering/oral (f recieving), unprotected sex (i am begging yall to wear a condom irl) ➽ a/n: alright so... don’t fool around with your teacher pls. live vicariously thru y/n :) 

He seemed so out of place here. For one thing, a bar like this was hardly known for much good happening, and this man exuded good. He seemed fit, even as he sat at the bar, his face sharp, full of angles that would have been glorious to sketch, and he had caramel-amber hair that curled around his ears and the nape of his neck. He wore a dark blue turtleneck and slacks, a watch with a leather band around his left wrist. 

“You’re staring.” 

I jumped. I had forgotten that I was mid-conversation. “Huh?”

Zendaya scoffed. “You’re staring at that guy,” she said. “Like, staring super hard. Do you know him?” 

“No,” I mumbled. “He’s just…” I trailed off for a moment, then attempted to save face by taking a sip of my drink. “I like the look of him. Ya know?” 

Zendaya scoffed at me. “I like the look of him too, but you’re on something else here.” There was a pause between the two of us, and Zen’s mouth split into a smile. “Five bucks.” 

“For what?” I asked. 

“You can’t get his number,” Zen said. “I’ll give you five whole dollars if you get his phone number.”

“You don’t have five dollars,” I said playfully, with narrowed eyes. “You don’t even have two coins to rub together.”

“Right, and who bought your drink?” Zen asked. “C’mon, you need to put yourself out there. Ever since you and Jacob broke up, it’s been nothing but… Sad. Your room’s a cave, Y/N. Will you do this for me?” 

I cast a glance at the guy once more, and I sighed. “Why not?” I mumbled under my breath. “But I had better get that fucking money, or I’ll take away your apartment privileges.” 

“I pay half of the rent, fuck you,” Zen laughed. “Go. Go!” 

“I am!” I giggled, and I slid myself out of the booth. The pub was bustling with nightly business, and I edged my way past a group of girls to find a place at the bar. My plan of attack was to order a drink and strike up a conversation with this guy, and grab his phone number before I left. Lucky for me, there was an empty space next to him, and I leaned against the bar with my forearms. 

“Oh, hey, good lookin’!” the bartender, Jake, exclaimed. He was a close friend of mine, hence why I always chose to drink at this particular bar. Our freshman year, he lived in the room across the hall from me, and we frequented each other for screwdrivers (of both varieties) all year. Since then, we continued to grow close. “What’s cooking?”

“Not a lot, Gyllenhaal,” I replied, and our hands met in a quick dap. “Lemme get a rum and Coke.”

“Sure thing,” Jake said. “Gimme two minutes. We’ve got a bachelorette party in the back.” 

“No problem,” I replied, and I watched Jake slide to the other side of the bar. 

The game was now on. I looked over my shoulder to Zendaya briefly, just for long enough to gauge that she was laughing at me, and I cast her a look before turning back. Then, I looked back over my other shoulder, the one closest to the guy, and I caught sight of a book he had. “What’re you reading there?” 

He looked up at me with big brown eyes, and my breath caught in my chest. From far away, he was hot but, up close, he was totally something else. He had strands of ginger in his dark hair, and his fingers closed the book in order to look at the cover, like he himself wasn’t sure of what he was reading. “Chaos Walking,” he answered, and my eyes widened. His voice was gorgeous, pitched low, accented with a London attitude. “My mate told me I’d like it.”

“Don’t think I’ve read that,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “What’s it about?” 

“Well,” he began and laughed lightly. “A lot. Basically, though, it follows a boy who lives in a world with no girls, where you can hear others thoughts, and he meets a girl. It’s sci-fi and… I dunno.” 

“Is it a good read?” I asked. “You seem like you enjoy it.” The book was battered, the paper cover torn and creased, with the spine broken. It was a book that was well-loved, and I liked how his entire being seemed to reflect the book. 

“Oh, I love it,” he said with a smile. “It’s so fun, ya know? The entirety of the story is incredible.” Then, a beat passed, and he added, “I’m Tom.” 

“Well, hi,” I said and gave him a warm smile. “I’m Y/N. No offense, but this sorta place doesn’t seem like your vibe.” 

Tom gave the front of the book a firm pat. “It’s not,” he said. “I was waiting on a friend but he doesn’t seem like he’ll be joining me tonight.”

“I didn’t think so,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You seem like a coffee shop kinda guy.”

“You don’t quite seem like the sort to be here either,” Tom told me. 

“How do you mean?”

“You don’t belong in a pub like this, I just know it,” Tom told me. “You’d be better suited somewhere else.” 

I shrugged. “I usually don’t leave my apartment to drink,” I said. “But I’m friends with the bartender and I visit every so often just to say hi.” A moment passed. “Wait, back up. Where would I be better suited?” 

Tom smiled, but it seemed more hesitant than before. “At the risk of being bold,” he started. “My flat.” 

“Jesus!” I breathed, and my face went hot. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “That was-- I’m so sorry--”

“No, no!” I said quickly. “No, it’s not a problem, I promise. That was bold, Tom, but I don’t mind it. As a matter of fact, I think you might be right.” 

“Glad we agree,” Tom said. “D’you wanna get out of here now?” 

“Sure thing,” I said. My skin prickled at the thought of him against me, and I laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Let me get my bag.” 

When I approached the booth, Zendaya stuck her tongue at me. “You lost,” she said. 

“Did I?” I asked, pulling my bag onto my shoulder. “Or am I going home with him?” 

“Shut up,” Zen laughed. “That was quick as hell.” 

“That tends to happen,” I shrugged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Tom.” 

“I hate you,” I heard Zen mutter as I turned away from her. 

Tom’s apartment--his flat, as he called it--was just a short cab ride from the bar, and I had hardly passed through the front door before his hands were pressing into my waist and his mouth was on mine. In an instant, I had melted into him, and my hands tangled in the bottom of his shirt. His mouth tasted like whiskey, which felt totally in-character for him, and he carefully nipped at my bottom lip. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Tom whispered, and he pushed my hair from my neck in order to brush his lips against my throat. No guys in my past had ever told me that in such clear terms, and my entire body ran hot at his words. A shiver ran down my spine, and he huffed a laugh into my neck. “Do you like when I say that?”

“I just like the way you talk,” I admitted. “Could listen forever.” 

“That’s an awfully long time,” Tom told me warmly. His slender fingers inched under my shirt to touch my bare skin, and he slid his hands to lay flat against the small of my back. His kisses lingered on my neck, and the feeling of his soft skin was so lovely. “Let’s start with tonight.” 

“I can manage that,” I laughed. “Bed?” 

As soon as I was down in his bed, Tom was working my shirt off. His hands were so strong and sure against me, and I had no hesitations in letting him do whatever he pleased. His kisses trailed down to my stomach and chest once they were bare to him, and the feel of his mouth on my hip made me take a fistful of those pretty brown waves of his. He just laughed and continued his pursuit downwards, and he rid me of my jeans and panties before pausing and looking up at me. “Is this alright?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Just… Yeah.”

“Good girl,” Tom whispered, and I swore I died right there. He took my leg in his strong grip and kissed my inner thigh, and he placed the softest kiss to my quivering cunt. I immediately knew that I was in good hands, and I let my body relax and submit to Tom. His shoulders nudged my legs open further as he pressed his warm tongue to my wetness, and I bit back a moan as I tried to keep my legs from closing. I was already shaking, which was honestly embarrassing, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to encourage him, because he placed a series of sloppy kisses to my throbbing clit that made me squeal. Then, his mouth went straight to where I was leaking, and an obscene slurping filled the air. Fuck, he was good. 

“Oh my God,” I whispered, and his fingers quickly joined his tongue. First one, then two, then his thumb met my clit, and I whimpered. “Oh, fuck, oh my God.” 

“No need to call me that,” Tom whispered. His breath was hot against my wet cunt, his voice raspy, and I couldn’t help the fluttering that enveloped his fingers. “Just my name will do for now.”

The combination of his fingers and mouth made my stomach quiver, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before I came. I had never come just from being eaten out, and my heart raged against my ribcage when I dared to imagine what came next. His thumb moved slowly around my clit, and his mouth replaced it as his fingers moved in me deliciously. His tongue, so skilled and quick, took up his thumb’s previous job, and he took the throbbing bud into his mouth and quickly nipped it with his teeth at the same moment that his fingertips found home inside me. 

There was no hope of obscuring my moan. “Fuck!” I yelped, writhing in his grip. “T-Tom, fuck.”

“Do you wanna come?” Tom whispered, looking at me through his eyelashes. “Use your words, my darling, please.” 

“Please, please,” I gasped. My head fell back to expose my neck, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My breathing was ragged, and a shock of electricity raced through my whole body when he laughed into my cunt. 

“Such a needy girl,” Tom chuckled. “You don’t have to ask. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know.” 

He lapped at my wet cunt, tasting me like he had dreamt of this, and my hand went from his hair to his shoulder. His waves and curls fell into his eyes, but he kept at his work, even when I pushed at his shoulder. “Tommy,” I whimpered out helplessly. “I-I’m gonna-- You--”

“My darling,” Tom said. “I want you to come on my tongue. Let me taste you, babygirl. Come for me.” 

My bottom lip was bitten nearly raw, and it only became worse when he said that. I nearly tasted blood as he gave my cunt one last kiss, so much more gentle than what he had been doing before, and my hips stuttered as hot pleasure pulsed through every part of me. I grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tugged him close, and he came to lay with his hips between my legs. My vision was blurry with tears as I studied him, oh so close to me now, and I felt a tiny pride at his pink cheeks and glistening lips. That was all me. “Oh, thank you,” I whispered, and he sweetly kissed each of my cheeks. “That was so good.” 

“I’m glad,” Tom said. “Secretly, I pride myself in being able to do that.” 

“You should be proud of that,” I huffed. “Also… ‘my god’?” 

“That was in jest,” Tom began with a light laugh. 

“I know,” I said. My hands trailed up his back, hiking his shirt up to his shoulders, and he helped me in tugging it off. He shook his hair out once it passed his head, and I added, “It’s a fitting name, though.” 

“Really?” He asked, bracing himself above me. “Am I a god, Y/N?”

“Close to it,” I told him. I noticed the way that my hands were trembling as I went to his belt, and he must have noticed as well, because his hands went to my wrists. His hands fit all the way around my wrists easily. It wasn’t rough or dominating by any means; his hands slid up from my wrists to grasp my hands, fingers interlocking with mine as he pressed my hands down beside my head. 

“Take a deep breath, my darling,” Tom told me gently. His thumb made comforting circles on my hand, and my stomach went all fluttery at how serene it was. “You’re shaking so hard. Do we need to stop?” 

“No,” I told him. “I’m alright. I promise.” 

“Alright,” Tom said. “Let me know if we need to stop.” 

I nodded quickly, reaching for a handful of his hair, and I tugged him down to kiss me. I could taste myself on his mouth and, normally, that would have irked me, but with Tom, it only made my thighs tense and warmth spread through my body. My skin rippled at each touch of his fingers, and I let out little mumblings of his name as he kissed my neck and shoulders. 

A surge of boldness ran up my spine, and I moved my hands from where he had placed them back down to his belt. As it seemed was the norm, he was two steps ahead of me, because he was already in the process of leaning back and pulling off his pants. The bedroom was cast only in the soft light of the lamp beside the bed, but I still captured every freckle, hair, and ridge on Tom’s firm chest and stomach. He was the definition of the skinny white guy that had good dick. Or, at least, he gave good head. But someone that good at giving head had to be as skilled elsewhere, right? 

He was back on me in an instant, kissing my neck and making little marks on my skin as I shoved his pants down his thighs. Tom’s hands captured my legs and drew them around his naked waist, and I gasped aloud when I felt his hard cock brush against my cunt, already throbbing once more. In fear of seeming dumb, I didn’t intentionally look, but I could feel the weight of his cock against my body, and I stuttered, “God, Tommy..” 

“That impressive, huh?” Tom laughed.  

“Of course,” I remarked. “What, have you never been told you have a big cock before?”

Tom lifted his head from my neck, and I let out a giggle at his blown-wide pupils and red cheeks. “Where the hell have you been all my life?” He asked with a smile. He laughed, and I noticed the way that wrinkles formed right by his eyes with the extremity of his smile. That was adorable as hell. “You’re gorgeous and so funny, and you’re complimenting me like this? You’re perfect.” 

“I’ve just been waiting for you, I guess,” I shrugged and ran my hands over his built arms, rock solid like a statue. 

“Sorry it took me so long to find you,” Tom smiled. “Traffic was a bitch.” 

I laughed, my head falling back onto the pillows, and Tom situated the head of his cock at my folds. At the feel of it, I gasped, and he swallowed my gasp with a kiss. “Let me know if we need to stop,” he reminded me, kissing my chin gently. 

“I’m fine,” I told him, even though I was shaking so fiercely. Tom sank himself into me, and the deep rumble of his moan made my back arch up against him. “Fuck, darling,” he mumbled. “Cunt’s so tight… Squeezing the hell outta me.” His fingers dug into my hip, surely leaving bruises to later admire, and he snapped his hips forward so that he was fully in me. 

“More,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted more of; I just knew that I wanted more of whatever he ended up giving me. 

My whole body thrummed with blood and life as he fucked me, pausing to pant into my neck and kiss my mouth. His back was taut with hard muscles and I raked my fingers down to his waist and back up to his hair. A curl had escaped the rest of his hair and bounced against my forehead with each thrust, and Tom and I each huffed out a laugh at it. Silently, I reached up and twisted the perfect curl around my finger, and Tom gave me another eye-wrinkling smile.

“F-Fuck, darling,” Tom muttered, and I could tell by his stuttering that he was close. The rhythm of his hips had slowed, but his grip on my waist and legs was as tight as ever. “So fuckin good for me, God.” 

“I’m getting close again, Tommy,” I told him, my voice shaking. I’m sure he already knew, what with the way my chest was hot and my breathing was erratic, but I still wanted to see the look on his face when I said it.

“Oh, me too, my darling,” Tom whispered. His hand fell from its place at my hip and came to rest on my stomach, just above the point where he had himself buried inside me, and his thumb-- that damned thumb of his-- slid down until he was playing with my clit once more. There was an urgency this time, though, his movements quicker and messier. With each thrust, his own belly quivered, and I desperately pulled at his hair. I needed him to come first. I needed to feel him spill himself inside of me. I needed to feel his cum leak out of me, to hear him laugh at the mess we made like I knew he would. I needed so much. I just needed him.

“Tommy,” I whimpered, keening into his touch. “Fuck, Tom--”

His lips crashed into mine, and that was all it took. My legs shook around his waist, and my vision went white-hot for a moment. His thrusts were messy, his waves and curls completely undone and hanging in his eyes, and he watched with a greedy gaze as I writhed under him. I pulled his head down into my neck and he resumed his work of nipping my skin and soothing the sting with his tongue, and I kissed the shell of his ear. “Oh, Tom,” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear over the sounds of our shared gasps. “Please, for me?” 

He pulled himself from me and was spilling in an instant, covering my waist and stomach in his warm cum. He settled himself on his elbows above me once again, and I took care to brush those waves off of his forehead. His hair had gone super curly with the little bit of sweat on his forehead, and I bit the tip of my tongue. “Yeah?” I whispered. 

“Yeah,” Tom agreed. “Let me get you a towel. Stay right there.”

“Wasn’t really planning on going anywhere, honestly,” I laughed. 

When he returned, he was wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt that hugged his muscled frame. He sat beside me and carefully wiped me clean with the wet corner of a towel, and he placed a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Are you feeling alright?” Tom asked. “Can I get you anything?” 

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Thanks, though.”

“No worries,” Tom told me. “You’re welcome to stay the night, if you’d like. I must warn you, though, that I like to cuddle.” 

“I would have expected nothing less,” I told him. I sat up, testing my legs for a moment, and my cheeks went hot. “Umm… I don’t think I can walk.” 

Tom’s eyes went big for a moment, and he reached for me with a hesitant hand. “Are you kidding?” He asked. 

“My legs are shaking too hard,” I whispered and bit my lip. 

“Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry,” Tom told me, his eyebrows pitching up. “I truly didn’t mean to hurt you--”

“You didn’t,” I said quickly. “It’s… This is a good thing. I promise.” 

There was a brief exchange that ended with Tom giving me a shirt to sleep in and me promising him that I won’t try to walk until my legs quit shaking. We found each other again once in bed, my head fitting snugly under his chin, and his fingernails lightly scratched up and down my back. The feel of his strong arms around me, holding me in such a protective way, lulled me to sleep. 

The night passed under a thin veil of dreams. All too soon, an alarm began to blare, scaring me fully awake in a second. From the darkness, there was a groan of displeasure, and a grunt as the bed squeaked and shifted, and the alarm was turned off with a solid stab of a finger. “Sorry, darling,” Tom whispered. “I forgot I have an early morning today.” 

“You’re fine,” I whispered. The lamp turned on, and I was met with Tom, his hair messy and frizzy, his face flushed with good sleep. I stretched my arms above my head, allowing a quick squeal, and I said, “I should probably be heading out soon too. I have an eight AM.”

“Ugh,” Tom groaned. “I hate those.” 

“Right,” I agreed. “Who wants to learn at eight in the morning?”

“The poor instructor,” Tom laughed. His voice was lower than before, scratchy as well, and my chest warmed at the sound. He fixed his hair out of his face, and he turned to see me, still wrapped up in his shirt and blankets. “You look cozy.” 

“I am,” I said softly. “Wish I could stay for just a little longer.” 

“Pursuit of knowledge is an honorable one, though, darling,” Tom told me. “Would you like to shower first?” 

“No,” I said. “I have to go by my apartment to get my stuff and change clothes anyway, I’ll just shower there.” 

“Alright,” Tom nodded. He reached for me and I met him halfway, brushing my lips to his in a soft kiss, and he gave me a light laugh. “I need to get your phone number. I’d love to do this again.” 

“I’d like that too,” I said. I gave him a parting kiss, then worked myself from the bed. I stretched once more, feeling my back pop, and I found my bag by the door to the bedroom. I gave Tom my phone, open to a new contact listing, and he gave a mischievous smile before plugging in his information. “What’s that smile all about?” 

At the top of my screen, it read Big Dick Tom. 

“Oh, God,” I laughed. “That’s really gone to your head, hasn’t it?” 

“You’re the one who told me that,” Tom argued. “And, if someone tells you that you have a big dick, you take that shit to heart.” 

“Sure, sure,” I said quickly. “I’ll text you; maybe we can get dinner this weekend?”

Tom gave me a smile that was fit for a king. “Of course, my darling girl.” 

Tom ended up sending me home with the shirt I had slept in. It was for some carpentry school in Wales, but it was soft and smelled like Tom, so I didn’t really mind the odd reference. Just before I left, he had swept me up in his arms and kissed me, and he pressed his forehead to mine. “This might be premature,” he whispered. “But do you wanna be my girlfriend?” 

Zendaya slapped a five dollar bill in my hand when I entered the apartment. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“The best,” I told her. “He’s super sweet and a great time, and he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“You said yes, right?” Zen asked.

“Duh,” I scoffed. “A hot Brit who likes me? I’m not letting that go.”

“Right,” Zen said, and the smile dropped from her face. “Well, while you were off getting dick from your new man, our literature professor dipped.” 

“What?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” Zen said, spinning her laptop to face me. She had an email pulled up from the head of the department, declaring that our professor, our beloved Dr. Osterfield, would not be teaching the course any longer. Buried in the text of the email, it said the name of the replacement professor: Dr. Holland. “I tried to look this guy up, but he’s not on Rate My Professor or anything.” 

“It’s halfway through the fuckin’ semester,” I groaned. “This blows.” 

“I just hope this new guy’s easy,” Zen groaned. “I can’t deal with a hard class right now.” 

The class was still held in the same room as before, and the general air was worse than a normal eight AM. At least, with Dr. O, he had an infectious energy that woke us all up. Nobody knew what to expect with this new guy. I hoped that, for my sake, he was cool. 

The door to the classroom opened, and a man said, “I apologize for the wait. It’s just my luck that I’d be late today…” 

My whole body went cold and my heart stopped. Tom. My boyfriend, my fucking Tom stood at the front of the small lecture hall, wearing the jeans and white buttoned shirt that I had helped pick out. “Well, this is a strange thing, isn’t it?” Tom chuckled, clasping his hands together. “I’ll explain, don’t worry. But first, I think maybe an introduction is in order.” 

He unwound his bag from his shoulder and opened it for a moment, and a whole new wave of dread washed over me. While he was in the shower, I had written him a quick note and stuck it in his bag. It was nothing more than “thanks, love. hope to see you soon xx”, but a smile split his face wide. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Apparently, my girlfriend left me a little note. Hmm! Anyway, I’m Dr. Holland. Call me that, or Tom, or any variation of the above. I promise you, I’ve heard it all.” 

Tom settled himself on the edge of his desk and he fluffed up his hair a bit. It was then that a quiet wave of titters passed through every girl in the hall; a hickey. It was small, but it was there, right under his ear. “I went to school in London, where I’m from, before I got a degree in English literature from Cambridge. Then, I came to the States and managed to get my doctorate in it, and, who’d have guessed it, this is my first teaching job. Go easy on me, huh?.” My little note, written on a sticky note, was clasped in his hand, and I seriously wanted to die right then and there. My professor. I was stupid. Of course the stars had aligned (or misaligned?) to allow this to happen. And just when I thought I found the right guy, too. 

“Right,” Tom said. “Let’s look at the attendance, see what we’re working with, and I’ll let you guys fill me in on what Dr. Osterfield was covering.” 

The closer he got to my name, the colder my face went. I hated every single moment of it. “And… Y/L/N? Y/N?” 

I quietly raised my hand, then managed a meek, “Here.” 

His eyes trained on me, and I watched the same recognition flood his eyes. Quickly, though, Dr. Tom Holland averted his gaze back down to his computer, and he said, “There you are, Y/N… Can I see you after class?” 

[descendantofthesparrow]

Shuffle playlist - Rewrite - Part of Your World - Harry Hook x Reader - part 5 - the isle.

warning: talk of non-con selling of sex in last bit of chapter

(note: (n/n) means = Nick name)

=

Mal took a heaving breath as she led her scooter towards the edge of the cliff, facing towards the isle of the lost. Harry repositioned behind her, tightening his grip on the cushion below him.

Mal let out a few sputtering sobs and lifted her goggles off the bridge of her nose and placed them on top of her helmet. she swung her backpack off her shoulders and grabbed her spellbook from her bag, hurriedly shifting through the pages to find the correct spell. There it was. “Noble steed/proud and fair/you will take us/anywhere”

The scooter glowed purple for a moment before it went back to normal, and Harry could swear the barrier had shimmered purple as well.

Mal stuffed her book back in her bag and shrugged it back on, turning to Harry while reshifting her goggles back onto her nose “hang tight, and onto me, I know it'll be uncomfortable but I don’t know if this will work, and I still can't swim” Harry sighed and released the cushions, wrapping is arms around Mal's torso and leaning against her.

“okay, hoo” she took a deep breath again, revving the engine of her scooter “please work”

“Mal if this doesn’t work and we die I am going ta kill yeh!” Harry yelped as Mal suddenly swerved to the right towards the steep slope down towards the beach and lead the bike onto the ocean.

The bike hopped on the surface a couple of times before smoothing out, Mal looked over her and Harry's shoulders back to Auradon and let out a breathy laugh, she was free!!!! Free from the pastel dresses, the invading press, the bobby pins, the painful too small at her toe heels, the rules, everything!

She could finally be herself again.

She and Harry let out a gasp as the barrier shimmered over them, the feeling of her magic draining from her was probably the worst feeling she had ever experienced, yet the scooter was still running atop the water. “odd” she muttered to herself, slapping the handle of her scooter as she remembered FGs explanation of good-intentioned magic being allowed to exist behind the border.

And she was doing everybody a favor by going back to the isle, so it had to be good-intentioned…right?

She took a hard right, making Harry yelp, and rolled into the wharf market that was near the Core fours hideout. Harry finally looked around, fixing the black motor helmet over his head as he passed his fellow isle pirates.

Mal suddenly stopped, looking to her left and taking off her goggles, Harry looked away from the market and towards her, raising his brow as she tore down the defiled poster with her and Ben on it and bunched it up, she threw it over her shoulder and replaced her goggles. She drove the scooter down to the next block and parked it in the slot next to the ascending stairs up to the core fours apartment. Harry quickly slid off the back and ripped the helmet from his head, shaking around to get rid of the squished feeling on his ears.

“I’m never doing tha’ again” Harry growled, his icy blue eyes locking with Mals now dull green ones as she passed by him and walked over to the entrance of her apartment. She picked up a rock and chucked it at the yellow sign with the words ‘danger flying rocks’. the sign swung back and the metal fence door lifted up.

Mal glanced back at Harry and gestured to the hideout, inviting him into the safe space. He shook his head and held his hands up, the weight of the helmet in his left hand shifting a bit “nah, I swore never ta step foot in tha’ place, I’ll be at meh apartment for a bit till I go talk ta Uma” Mal tilted her head at him.

“why do you want to talk to Uma?” she asked, leaning over the railing of the steps. Harry gave her a look.

“I need her ta know I haven’t abandoned her” Mal's mouth made an ‘o’ shape as she nodded, realizing what Harry was talking about.

“I get it….sorry, I know I was part of the distraction that prevented Ben from getting more kids off” she sighed, scratching the back of her head. “I've- I wish I could’ve done something more- I-I just” Harry held his hand up again, shaking his head.

“I know, lemme say this from (y/n)s perspective because from mine I would just blame yeh fully” Mal let out a little snort, if anything her and Harry's distaste of each other hadn’t changed in the last 6 months, which was nice. “yeh were under a lot of stress, and it’s not yer job ta make sure Ben follows through on his promise to bring more vks over” Mal shook her head, pushing up on her toes and pouting at Harry.

“but I could have helped with moving it further along, it was my fault that he kept blowing you and (y/n) off on those meetings for the vks, I could have…I don’t know made him think we were having a date in his office and then you two just make him sit through the meeting or something” Mal sighed, leaning her cheek on her hand.

Harry shrugged again, looking down the alley “aye possibly, I’ll be back at meh apartment if yeh need meh, Jay will know where it is” Mal quirked her brow again.

“huh?” Harry smirked up at Mal, rolling his eyes.

“did yeh really think those three would jus’ leave ye ‘ere? and yeh know once (y/n) finds out I’m ‘ere too she’ll drag me off by meh ear” Mal rolled her eyes.

“I guess….though I was kinda betting on someone coming over and taking me back, I’m really just here to get away from it all” Harry nodded at that.

“aye, once we crossed the barrier yeh regretted this a bit didn’t yeh?” Mal nodded a bit.

“…yeah, that feeling of magic being drained from me it was just….made everything come back, now I remember why we all wanted to leave so bad….I guess the stress from Auradon made this place seem a lot better than it was” Mal sighed, looking up to the dark grey sky.

Harry nodded again and started to back away “aye, when the rest of em get here, just tell (y/n) I’m at meh apartment and Jay can lead ‘er there” Mal waved him off and watched him disappear into the dark alleys towards the wharf. She tapped her heel against the steel stairs nervously as he left her sight.

God, she hoped Hook wouldn’t find out about Harry’s presence on the isle.

She couldn’t bear to hear those sounds again.

=

You sighed as you leaned back in the cushioned chair in Ben's office, watching him quickly write down on the papers for cotillion. You had bust into his office about an hour ago, waiting until he finally talked about his fight with Mal. He stopped, looking up at you through his lashes before sighing and leaning back against his chair. “I really screwed up didn’t I” he finally muttered, crossing his arms and looking up at the ceiling.

“yep” you popped your lips, smirking as he groaned and rubbed his face in stress.

“but she lied to me! She lied about everything and thought she could get away with it! And-and” you rose your brow as he looked back to you. “-god I was just so angry at her for doing that but then….god I fucking compared her to Audrey” you blinked at that.

“you-I-wow Ben, that’s….alright then” you chuckled, pinching your nose and standing from your chair, walking over to bens desk and leaning on it “alright imma say it straight, and before you ask, I’m from a world where yall are a movie remember?” Ben nodded, slightly confused at the last part, leaning back slightly as (y/n)s disappointed look turned to a glare. “you are valid to be mad at Mal for lying to you about using her magic, you are valid to be mad at her for doing that. But you have to understand, she.is.not.you. she is not Evie, she is not Audrey, and she is not from here.

She is from the isle, where EVERYTHING was different for her, there were no rules, there was no press, there was no dress code, there was no nothing, she could just do whatever she wanted. Going from that, to having a billion rules and demands from everyone, is extremely stressful”

Ben tried to speak up but you silenced him with a glare “you may say ‘but I never asked her to be anything other than herself’ you never told her that, when she started to try being the perfect Auradon girl, you never told her that you liked it, you never told her you didn’t like it, you just let her keep going, which in her head translated it as ‘oh he likes me better this way, I’ll keep going’ I know you have that stained glass window with her in her full isle style self, but that window would have been helpful two months ago when all this shit started. She's having an identity crisis Ben, she needs support and guidance, now I don’t mean she needs her hand held, she needs someone to say that she's doing the right thing, that she's not screwing anything up.

she needed someone to say that she didn’t have to change because she was already perfect, yes, her attitude and shit needed work but as a whole? She was fine, she didn’t need to change the way she spoke, or walked, or dressed, or smiled. She just needs to learn that it's okay not to be okay, and to ask for help. She JUST learned that she wasn’t the only person in the world 6 months ago, and now she needs to learn that it's okay that she's not doing okay.

And you haven’t helped her with that, you have just stood by and acted like nothing was wrong, and that’s what is wrong Ben, you live in this world of lollipops and sunshine, that you don’t see what’s two inches in front of you! And that’s not a bad thing, I love that you’re an optimist, but when It comes to not seeing that something is wrong with your friends, that’s when it becomes a problem.” You sighed, leaning back and cracking your neck.

“again, I will say you being mad at Mal for lying to you about using her magic and…lying to you about how she was doing is completely valid. but you again have to understand, her entire existence, up until 6 months ago, was pleasing her mother.

and when her mother was turned into a mini dragon, her people-pleasing tendencies turned to you, and what she thought would please you most. And that would be a perfect Auradon girl. That’s why she did all that, because she thought you would prefer her that way instead of her actual self. On both sides of your argument, you both are in the wrong, and you both are in the right, but because you both lack communication between the two of you”

you held up your hand again as Ben tried to speak “neither of you truly talk to each other, yes you talk, but not really, you never asked about her boundaries, she never asked you about what you wanted, both of you suffered because you just won't talk to each other like that, you need to talk to each other and find out what is going on with the other to find balance in your relationship. Ben, you can't just rely on the other to come forward, you both have to if you see a problem in the relationship.

And the problem with yours is that you don’t know how to look past the surface and see beneath anything, and Mal doesn’t know how to ask for help. I’m not saying your shallow, I’m saying you’ve lived in a world of everything is perfect and nothing is ever wrong; so it's hard for you to realize that someone is having a hard time, and Mal has lived in a world where asking for help meant weakness or even worse death.” Ben paled at that

“so both of you have to teach the other about yourselves, Mal can teach you how to look beneath the front mask of people and see their true selves and intentions, and you can teach mal to soften up and learn that asking for help is not a bad thing anymore”

You sat back down in your chair and crossed your arms, waiting for Ben’s response as he just stared at you “I know, that was one big ol’ rant but it needed to be said” you laughed, cracking your neck and sighing “I haven’t talked that much in….never” Ben rolled his eyes and leaned forward on his hands.

“I need to talk to her” you nodded, shifting in your chair.

“what you need is to take your relationship slower Ben, it's only been six months, don’t you think that’s a little fast? especially for Mal who’s never done anything like this before? Something like cotillion and her being introduced as Lady of the court would be something that happened in a year, not six months. I think it would be better to celebrate the half-year of the vks being here than all that.” Ben paused for a moment, then groaned, flopping back in his chair.

“I’m an idiot” He muttered, you snorted and rolled your eyes “of course she's not ready for all this….I really should have paid attention to her more instead of just assuming that she was okay with everything changing so fast” he sighed, glancing back at you. You nodded to him, letting him know he was on the right track.

The two of you sat up as the door to Ben’s office opened suddenly and Evie stepped in, knocking rapidly on Ben’s door. “Evie!” Ben sighed, letting a smile bloom on his face. “come in” she quickly stepped into the room and closed the door. She let out a shuddering sigh and looked from you to Ben. You sighed, closing your eyes, right you had forgotten about Mal going back.

“Mal’s gone back to the isle” Evie's voice wavered, looking down at the floor as she quickly walked over to Ben and handed him a note. Before he could read it she said his name, and handed him the golden class ring Ben had given Mal during the coronation.

He stared at it for a few moments before hurriedly unfolding the note and reading it, his eyes shining as his shoulders dropped as he read the note. “this-this is my fault! She had been under so much pressure lately and I-I was the last straw….I shouldn’t have yelled at her like that” he bit his lip, a few tears trailing down his cheeks and hitting the top of his desk “she wasn’t even doing anything bad with her magic she was just taking a few shortcuts….I have to go to the isle and get her back myself! It's dangerous over there and she could get hurt…I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to her” he turned to the window, peering out the side where he could see the edge of the ocean.

“Ben you’ll never find her! The isle is huge and she has a million hiding places!” Evie sighed, rubbing her arms as she thought about what she was about to do “you have to take me with you” Ben turned around, looking at Evie with wide eyes.

“I can't let you do that” he muttered, his shoulders dropping “I don’t want anything happening to you” Evie shook her head defiantly.

“I’m going, you don’t even know how to get from the entrance to the market, you need someone who knows the isle sand from stone…and I can't leave her there either, there's no doubt she’s made some enemies over there that are just waiting for a moment to strike, and without her mother's protection…even if it was lousy protection, she could get seriously hurt, or even worse killed…” Ben turned pale again, he didn’t want to think about that. “and she's my best friend Ben, I won't just leave her….and we’ll bring the boys too, because there's safety in numbers and I’m betting none of us are popular over there right now” Evie sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, she stopped, watching as Gil entered the room quickly and slammed the door behind him “Gil?” he looked to you, his face place and his body shaking.

“Gil what's wrong?” you asked, standing up quickly and walking over to him “you look like you’ve seen a ghost” he let out a small whimper and handed you a piece of paper from Harry's journal. “what-“ you felt your world stop.

-Gil, I’m sorry, but I’m going back to the isle with Mal, I’m not planning on staying but I need to make a point to beasty boy. I'll stay out of sight I promise.

-Harry

Harry had gone back to the isle with Mal “he what?!” you half screeched, almost stumbling back into the seats in front of Bens desk if it wasn’t for Gils hands on your shoulders

“(y/n)” Evie gasped, rushing over to you and wrapping her arm around your torso “what’s-oh no” she read the note, her face forming into a look of horror “Harry’s gone back to the isle too” she muttered, covering her mouth with a gasp. Ben furrowed his brows in confusion.

“why-you sound like it's even worse that he went back?” he asked, walking over to the three of you and glancing at the paper.

“because it is” Evie looked up at Ben “Harrys had it a lot worse than Mal, his- his father” you felt a cold chill rush over your skin and you broke from Gil and Evie's grip.

“his father what?” you snapped, the vks flinching from your dark tone. “tell me.”

“his-his dad um…he sold him when he didn’t have money” Gil muttered, his face turning green from the memories.

“or just didn’t feel like spending money” Evie snapped, hand clenching so hard you would hear her knuckles crack.

“…sold him?” Ben asked naively, Evie and Gil looked at him with sad eyes.

“he sold him to others to have….sex with” Gil paused between his words, they were almost too hard to get out “when he bought his rum or whatever he felt like drinking, I don’t remember how long it was happening but if Hook finds out Harry is on the isle….we might not ever see Harry again” you and Ben looked at each other and nodded.

“then it's settled” Ben clenched his fist around Mal's note and his ring, watching you as you grit your teeth and your eyes turn dark “we head to the isle as soon as possible, we can't risk anything happening to Harry or Mal” the three of you nodded and rushed out of Bens office to collect Carlos and Jay.

‘oh Harry’ you felt tears burn in your eyes as you burst into your dorm room and grabbed a change of clothes that suit the isle ‘why didn’t you tell me’ you stopped, seeing a large piece of paper from Harry's journal sitting on your desk. You quickly walked over and grabbed it, unfold it, and start to read.

-to my dear (n/n)

I’m sorry, but I’m going back to the isle. No, we aren’t breaking up, this has nothing to do with you, I’m making a point to Ben.

I know he and the others will stop at nothing to get Mal back from the isle and I needed to make sure Ben would see the isle for what it really is. A place where no child should be and hopefully, he will get a move on for the vk transfer thing.

I also needed to see Uma and my sisters; they need to know I haven’t abandoned them. I know you’ll be coming with Ben and the others to get me, I do not doubt that, so I’ll see you soon.

I know the dangers of me being here, and I’m sorry I never told you about my history with my dad, but I’m sure Evie and Gil filled you in on it. I’m planning to stay out of sight and away from him and anyone who might tell him about me being here.

I promise when we are back in Auradon I’ll tell you everything about my life on the isle, you deserve to know.

I love you; I know I have never said that, but I’m sure of it now, and I wanted to say it just in case.

-Harry

You let out a low sob and collapsed against your desk, holding the now crumpled note against your chest “Harry” you chocked out, feeling droplets of tears hit your hand. “you stupid fucking idiot”

“I love you too”

-end of part 5-

Here it is! Part 5! I hope I made bens side of the argument…better while also still being like “yeah both are wrong both are right in it, but Mal was really having a hard time and ben needs to slow the fuck down” because MAL IS NOT READY FOR ANY OF THE DATING SHIT SHE IS DOING IN D2, COTILLION SHOULD HAVE WAITED FOR AT LEAST ONE YEAR INTO THEIR RELATIONSHIP NOT 6 MONTHS! Anyway, I also hope Mal and Harry's talk at the beginning was also…nice? That’s the best word I can think of right now but I hope im making Mal an actual likable character instead of….ya know *gestures to d2/3* that. Im trying to actually develop her d1 character into something more instead of just making a whole new one each “movie”

And yes, James is just as Bad in this as he was in the OG part of your world, and don’t worry, he does get his ass kicked by reader.

Thank you for reading!

permtaglist

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@musicarose​ @remembered-license​

@random-thoughts-003​ @verboetoperee​

@imtryingthisout​ @rintheemolion​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​

and now the rewrite taglist because im sorry i forgot about yall lol

@thesailbells​ @beccad10x​ 

[magniloquent-raven]

for fluff: "one more chapter" or "there's enough room for both of us"

it’s been 84 years............ but here u go lmao tysm for the prompts!!!!!! i used both!

CW for some brief suicidal ideation, just in case. it’s v mild but pls be careful yall (i know, this fic was supposed to be fluffy 😅)

posted on ao3

------

Billy’s life had changed a lot in the past two years. 

So much that some days he barely recognizes himself in the mirror. The scars, the state of his hair—which he hasn’t cut since last summer and generally just throws back for convenience’ sake—the stubble he doesn’t bother with most days. Small things, in the grander scheme of what’s different about his life, but it adds up.

And it’s Friday night, he’s curled up at home, and perfectly content to be there. 

There’s a steaming mug of cider on the coffee table (a scratched-up old thing that Hop left him when he officially handed off ownership of his trailer to Billy), and wind rattling the windows, and Max is asleep in the next room. It’s...cozy. 

El stopped by earlier that afternoon, Max in tow, demanding Billy let them stay because Mike was being a dick or a DnD campaign was going on too long and El’s character died a while back so she was bored, or...something. Possibly Mike was being a dick about her character being dead. Max kept chiming in with her own two cents worth but it really just made the whole thing harder to follow.

But it didn’t really matter why they stopped by, they’re always coming up with reasons to invade his living room and eat all his food and nag him about teaching them how to do fancy braids. And Max usually wanders off to nap in his room when El starts asking Billy to read to her.

Which is what he’s doing now. 

Last month he read her Jane Eyre (her idea). A week ago they started The Hobbit. 

It’s been slow going, considering how often El interrupts to ask questions, and every time there’s a song they have the same argument about him not actually singing, but they’re making progress. 

He’s reading through the weird goblin song as monotone as possible just so he can laugh at El’s disgruntled scrunchy face, and putting up with her poking his thigh with her toes when he rolls his eyes at her, and honestly having the time of his fucking life, because, yeah, saying things have changed in the past two years is the understatement of the decade.

When he gets to the end of Over Hill and Under Hill and closes the book she gasps dramatically, sitting up and pulling the ugly orange throw blanket (gift from Mrs. Byers) she’d been snuggled up in tighter around her shoulders.

“Billy, no!” 

He drops the book in his lap and raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s the end of the chapter.”

“No.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

El frowns at him, her whole face going pinched. “But you can’t stop there.”

It’s moments like this that almost make Billy forget she can kill people with her brain. Moments when she just looks like a kid, all wrapped up in her favourite blanket and pouting. 

And it’s like she knows that’s his goddamn kryptonite. Because those moments also remind him that she deserves this. More than anyone he knows, she deserves all the childish crap she wants, and more. It won’t ever replace the childhood that was taken from her, but it’s a start.

So, needless to say, Billy has a hard time saying no to her.

He drops his head back against the cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling for a moment—pretending to contemplate, while she glowers at him—and sighs loudly. 

“One more chapter.” 

She beams.

They’re only a few pages into Riddles in the Dark when a car pulls up, and Billy doesn’t even have time to put the book down before the front door bursts open. 

“El! Will thought he—is that The Hobbit?” Dustin comes to an abrupt halt two paces into the room, blinking at the book in Billy’s hands. All his little friends nearly collide with his back, and there’s suddenly a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers huddled in Billy’s doorway. 

“Who cares,” Lucas scoffs, pushing him out of the way so he, Wheeler, and Will, can shuffle the rest of the way inside. “Get out of the way!”

Billy is still trying to figure out what the fuck’s even happening when Steve goddamn Harrington walks in behind his pack of brats. Because of course he was the one who drove them here. Him being a fine upstanding citizen and all that. With nothing better to do, apparently. (Not that Billy has room to judge anymore.)

Suddenly the bickering kids are mostly background noise. Billy always did have a hard time concentrating on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Especially when he’s looking like that, warm brown eyes lit up with interest, and the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside, his hair a mess from the wind, and locking eyes with him makes Billy’s heart pound. 

They’ve been on good terms these past few months and it’s a special kind of torture that Billy wouldn’t give up for the fucking world.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy the view for long because—

“—the Mind Flayer might be back!”

Billy stiffens. “What?” He glances at El. She’s sitting up straight now, her eyes dark, expression closed off. 

Mike sighs irritably. “Weren’t you listening? Will thinks he might have sensed the Mind Flayer, so we needed to make sure El’s okay.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Billy. “Because the stupid thing wants her dead, remember?”

“Wheeler,” Steve hisses, and smacks the kid’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Billy grits his teeth, cold fingers trailing down his spine. “I remember.” 

The room is silent for several agonizing seconds, the kids all exchanging glances. Until Billy’s bedroom door opens and Max shuffles out, rubbing her eyes. 

“What’s everyone doing here?” 

~~

They’d all been hanging out at Steve’s when Will had a bad feeling. The same kind of prickling bone-deep chill he’d gotten two summers ago. Needless to say, ignoring it until people started dying didn’t seem like the way to go this time, hence the home invasion.

Which had been Steve’s idea, apparently. Or. His initial reaction had been to blurt out does this mean Billy’s possessed again, and it had spiraled from there. To Mike freaking out about El not being safe because she was here, to Lucas reminding him that Billy had only gotten the better of her when she didn’t have powers, to Dustin yelling about checking in with her either way because she might have The Facts. 

And so they’d broken a couple traffic laws to get here.

Billy suspects Steve feels guilty about suggesting he might be possessed, because he got very awkward when it was brought up. And he stepped in several times when Wheeler and Sinclair’s interrogation got a little too intense (there were threats of hot pokers involved).

It should have felt condescending—Billy’s a grown-ass adult, he doesn’t need someone defending him from lanky teenagers—but he can’t help feeling a little warm when it’s Steve coming to his defense. 

The discussion overall is a mess. El doesn’t have any answers, Billy hasn’t felt anything odd lately, and the lack of anything to go on beyond Will having a momentary freakout is putting everyone on edge. 

Max, who squished herself onto the couch between Billy and El, cuts through the cyclical arguing after the third dramatic eye-roll from Mike. “Guys, can you cool it for a second. We’re getting nowhere.” Her protest is punctuated by a yawn, which makes El giggle. 

“She’s right,” Steve sighs, mussing with his hair absentmindedly. “Billy and El are fine, everyone’s fine, we should all get some sleep.”

“Dude, are you sure you’re good to drive?” Dustin asks, squinting appraisingly at Steve. It’s a fair question, it’s late and Steve looks like he’s about to keel over, but Billy’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“Who said anything about driving?” Max snorts, glancing at Billy. 

Damnit Max.

“Is there even space for everyone here? This place is tiny.”

“Fuck you, Wheeler, not all of us can live in goddamn mansions.”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, bristling with indignation, but Will interjects, stuttering a little in his haste, “I, um, I’d feel a little safer if everyone, you know, stayed in one place? At least for tonight?”

And that pretty much settles it. 

Once everyone mumbles their (in some cases reluctant) agreement, El crows “Sleepover!” and drags Max off to find spare blankets, leaving Billy sitting on the couch alone and wondering where the hell Steve is gonna sleep. For...no particular reason...other than…

Well.

It’s not like Mike was wrong, the trailer wasn’t built to house six teenagers and two twenty-somethings. Most of them are going to end up squished on the living room floor, and Max and El already called dibs on the couch, and...well, unless Steve wants to crash in the fucking kitchen there really isn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Billy’s room. He doesn’t even have a goddamn tub the guy could curl up in. 

And just because he’s wanted Steve Harrington in his bed since minute one, doesn’t mean he wants it right now. Not like this. 

Because like this he has to deal with Max’s side-eye, and El’s knowing look (the girl has been in his head, she literally knows everything about him), and Will’s weird wide-eyed interest, and worst of all, Steve not doing this because he wants to. 

In fact, judging by the way he blanches when Max suggests it, Billy’s room is the last place he’d like to be. Which is not really something Billy ever really wanted hard proof of, thanks. 

He’s dealt with enough in his life, he didn’t need to know exactly how repulsive Steve finds the idea of sleeping in the same room as him. 

“You’re welcome to sleep in your goddamn car if my floor isn’t good enough for you, Harrington,” he bites out, probably harsher than was warranted. 

Steve blinks at him, mouth falling open, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh my god, it’s too cold to sleep outside, Billy,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being such a dick.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Figure your shit out, I’m going to bed.” 

The silence he leaves behind is tense and awkward. 

He’s been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, moping and berating himself, for about ten minutes when the door creaks open.

“Hey, uh,” Steve’s voice is soft, uncertain, and Billy feels like even more of an asshole for snapping at him. “I’m just...gonna...crash on the floor. Um. Good night.”

This is punishment isn’t it. For being such a douche for so long. Now he gets to try and fall asleep knowing Steve fucking Harrington is laying nearby, sleepy and warm and out of reach. He listens to Steve shuffle around, getting situated, laying out blankets and trying to find a soft bit of carpet to lay on. Has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Like offering up his bed. Or poking fun at how much Steve sighs when he’s getting comfortable (Because it’s dumb, not cute. Definitely not cute.).

It’s unclear how long they lay there in the dark, Billy watching moonlight cast the outlines of skeletal trees across the wall, listening to Steve’s quiet breathing to remind himself he’s not alone. That the shadows are just shadows and there’s no reason to be tense and sweating and—

Billy’s pretty sure it’s been long enough that Steve should be asleep, considering how tired he looked, so he tosses his blanket off and swipes the pack of cigarettes off his bedside table, hoping to god the floor doesn’t creak when he pads across the room. There’s no noise coming from the other room, so either the kids are asleep too or a miracle has occurred and they’re all just being really quiet. 

He slips out the side door, and takes a breath. The lake is too still, despite the wind. No self-respecting body of water doesn’t have waves. But it’s pretty enough, he supposes. Enough to make for a decent view while he smokes a cigarette.

Takes a couple tries to light up. His hands aren’t what they used to be, especially in the cold. Holding off a thirty-foot meat puppet bare-handed does that to a person, tears shit up that doesn’t heal right afterwards.

He’s about halfway through his cig when Steve joins him. Billy’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of footsteps, and he doesn’t relax at all when he realizes who it is. 

“Hey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Billy watches Steve lean against the porch railing beside him. He takes another drag before he looks over properly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Billy raises his eyebrows. Gestures with his cigarette and turns away again. “No shit.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores it. Stares out at the water and flicks cigarette ash over the railing. The wind picks up again and cuts through his thin shirt. Should’ve grabbed a fucking sweater. Not because the cold bothers him at all, but...well, because it doesn’t anymore.

He shivers when a completely-unrelated-to-the-weather chill runs down his spine.

“Soo…” Steve fidgets, and trails off awkwardly, his nonchalance painfully fake.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, and he raises his cigarette to his lips, a flimsy excuse to hide his smile. 

“Did, uh. Did El choose the book, or…?”

He chokes on a mouthful of smoke. Doc Owens did tell him he shouldn’t have taken up smoking again. Though he was probably more concerned about Billy’s scarred lungs and than Steve Harrington-related hazards. 

Coughing definitely does hurt a lot more than it used to though. 

He flinches when Steve touches his shoulder, pats it, rubs a little—trying to help with the coughing, presumably—making Billy’s heart trip over itself. 

Once he’s no longer wheezing he wipes his eyes, and waves off Steve’s apologies, hoping the embarrassed flush on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light. 

Steve’s hand stays where it is.

For several quiet moments Billy waits for him to withdraw but he doesn’t, and Billy finally meets his eyes. Which was probably a mistake. His heart skips again. He’s still not used to Steve looking at him like that. Soft and wide-eyed and concerned and…

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Billy used to dream about getting this close without needing pretense, without having to pretend, getting to bask in the warmth coming off him and feel his breath on his skin and see something other than indifference—or worse, the hatred that came later—looking back at him. What he has now is...not quite what he wants. It lights him up but leaves him wanting. 

Another gust of wind makes a mess of Steve’s hair, locks falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions, and Billy itches. Clenches his fist to stop himself from fixing it.

“Her dweeby little friends kept talking about it, and she couldn’t get through it herself. So...” Billy trails off, scratching his cheek and glancing away. “I may have had a copy laying around.”

Steve’s hand finally leaves its perch on his shoulder—both a disappointment and a relief—to brush the stray locks of hair out of his face. He grins at Billy, whole face lit up and stupidly pretty even as his fingers get stuck in tangles. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “My mom used to read it to me.” 

It’s easier to talk about her now. Mostly with El, who’s still the only person who knows the full story, but, well, he’s pretty sure at least Max and Steve have guessed the bits they weren’t told. Or, hell, maybe El told everyone everything during those months he was out of commission and everyone thought he was dead, and no one’s brought it up to his face because it would be awkward as hell. 

In any case, Steve’s expression softens. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So, you and her were pretty close, huh?”

If asked Billy would have blamed the sudden sting of tears in his eyes on the wind. “I guess.” A pause. “Not enough for her to take me when she left,” he mumbles, chewing his thumbnail and frowning out at the lake.

His cigarette hangs between two fingers in his other hand. 

“Billy…”

“Don’t. I’ve heard every condolence in the book, okay. It’s...it’s fine.”

For several long moments the only sounds are the dry rustle of leaves in the wind and Billy’s nail-biting. 

Then Steve slips his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugs gently. Too surprised to resist, Billy lets him. Lets his hand be pulled away from his face, thumb pressed to his pulsepoint, lets him hold on for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. And Billy stares at him the whole time, lips parted, shoulders tense, waiting to see what Steve will do next.

What he does next is smile a little sad, and tilt his head. “It’s a bad habit, you know. Biting your nails.” 

“I don’t have any other kind of habit.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s true.” 

Which is a weird thing to say, and a weird thing to get emotional over, and yet Billy kind of feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

He rubs at the knotted scar tissue that spiderwebs across his whole torso, and can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if Steve’s perception of him might be a little blinded by the one good thing he’s ever done. He’s tried to be better since then, atone a little, but Steve’s confidence in him still feels unearned.

And all the work he’s put into getting his shit together might all be for nothing anyways, if some fucking slime monster decides to crawl down his throat again. If Will’s right and that thing is back...for all he knows the thing has it out for him too, after the shit he pulled at Starcourt. He thought he’d end up dead, he wasn’t exactly worried about making himself a target in the long run. 

But now...

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, eyes falling shut for a moment before he grits out, “I can’t do it again.” Steve blinks at him, nonplussed. “This,” he taps his scars, “The fucking. Mind Flayer bullshit. I can’t.”

“You…” Steve folds his arms across his stomach, hands clutching his elbows. It’s a nervous tic that makes Billy ache. Always makes his heart clench, but tonight that gets lost in the black hole of anxiety already twisting up his insides  “You won’t have to, I—we’ll protect you. If we stick together—”

“It’s not a guarantee.”

“No, but—”

“We don’t know anything about this alien shit, for all we know I was never really free of it, and—I just—promise you won’t let it use me again,” Billy’s voice breaks, and he clenches his jaw to try and hold it all back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the crushing weight of existential panic pressing in. 

Steve’s eyes widen, “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. Crash another car into me. Let your ex shoot me in the fucking head. I don’t care how, I need you to stop me.” He needs to understand, Billy’s eyes bore into him, willing him to understand.

But he shakes his head, face twisted up with horror, “I don’t think I can do that.”

Billy takes a step towards him, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Steve.” He blinks back tears. “Please.” 

“Don’t—” Steve looks away, curling in on himself, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, ask you to perform a public fucking service?” Billy spits, eyes stinging, face burning. He regrets the words once they’re spoken, but there’s no taking them back now. He’s talked with Owens about this sort of shit and he thought he was past it. 

Apparently not.

He deflates. Like a slap in the face, it stops him dead, turns his agonizing back inward where it fucking belongs. Wiping his eyes, he sighs. 

It’s too late to stop the puppy-dog eyes Steve’s giving him now though. The unreserved sadness in the way he’s looking at Billy is so overwhelming it’s almost palpable. “Is that really how you feel?”

Is it? He’s not sure anymore. It was for a long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember feeling any other kind of way until El reminded him. But now…

He shrugs. “It’s...complicated. I—ah, shit!” His hand jerks, and the cigarette he’d been holding falls to the ground. That never used to hurt so fucking much. “Damn thing burnt me.” 

He sucks on the stinging knuckle, waiting for the pain to subside, tasting salt and ash, and looks back up at Steve.

They lock eyes.

Steve’s expression has closed off, his gaze still heavy, but with something else, sliding down Billy’s face with an intensity Billy’s not quite sure what to make of. He’s struck dumb by the attention (not something he usually has a problem handling), lips still wrapped around his finger but his mouth has gone slack.

It feels like a static shock, one crackling jolt of a moment, something sharp lancing through him, and then it’s over. Steve’s blinking, glancing away. Billy’s hand falls to his side. It would be like it never happened except he still feels charged, pent up, heart full to bursting and stomach in knots. 

Billy sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just...go back to bed.”

Wording, Billy. Wording. His cheeks warm a little, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he turns and heads back inside.

He practically throws himself into his bed, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets around him, back turned to Steve. Sleep seems like a pipe dream at this point, but doing anything other than pretending to get some rest would involve talking to and/or looking at Steve, so. Not an option. 

But after he listens to Steve settle back into his little pile of blankets, the minutes crawl by, and Billy gets twitchy. Wants so badly to move, toss and turn and fidget, and say something, but doesn’t know where to start and doesn’t want to draw Steve’s attention, and—

God, this is so fucking stupid.

Billy rolls over. “Steve.”

“Yeah?” 

The room is silent for a beat. He shuffles around a little and the sheets rustle loudly in the quiet.  

“Would you get up here,” he says suddenly, all at once, demanding, scarcely believing what the fuck is coming out of his mouth. 

“...What?” Steve sounds a little breathless and it makes Billy’s stomach clench.

“Just...there’s enough room for both of us, alright.” Jesus christ. 

The lump of Steve and blankets on the floor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, for what seems like an eternity, and Billy’s about to brush it off, turn it into a joke, take it back, something, when—

“Okay.”

Oh.

What?

Oh god, he’s getting up. This is happening. Billy stares at his silhouette, the tense line of his shoulders, his awkward gait, and wonders why he’s agreeing to this if he’s so goddamn uncomfortable. 

Guess the floor is officially less comfortable than being in bed with Billy. Joy.

But then he’s sliding under the covers and Billy forgets to be bitter because his brain is mostly static at this point. White noise and his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the deafening creak of boxspring groaning under unexpected weight.

And Steve’s doing that thing again, sighing, little hums as he wiggles around getting himself situated, and Billy is dying. He thought he was being punished before, but now he’s sure, because this is ridiculous. No grown man should be that adorable. 

By the time he’s gotten himself comfy Billy is about ready to combust. 

It doesn’t help that he’s decided to lay down extremely close and facing Billy. It’s so intimate it hurts.

“Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” He tries to make it sound more casual than it is. Like it’s a choice and not the sad fact that he’s too fucking anxious to relax. 

Seems he’s not the only one though, Steve keeps fidgeting, his face doing something weird Billy can’t quite see in the gloom. But he doesn’t have to see to recognize Steve’s tics.

“Spit it out,” Billy sighs.

“What did you mean. When you said it’s complicated?” Steve asks softly.

Ah.

“You really wanna get into this?” He sure doesn’t, but Steve nods and Billy’s fucking weak when it comes to giving Steve what he wants. “I meant that...I...used to feel like that. All the time. It was fucking relentless.” He thinks about rolling onto his back so he won’t have to look at Steve for this, but finds himself stuck, drawn in by the faint starlight reflected in Steve’s eyes. “But nowadays I’ve got...shit to hang on for, I guess. Doesn’t make it all go away, but it makes it easier.”

“Oh.” Steve wriggles a little closer, his hand landing in the space between their pillows. Right next to Billy’s hand. Close enough that he can feel him there, but not quite touching.

He doesn’t say anything else, which Billy’s grateful for. He’s got Doc Owens for the big speeches about how life is worth living, and it’s grating enough getting them from someone who’s literal job is to say that kind of shit. 

It helps. It does. But he can only handle so much.

Speaking of which.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says quietly. He’s keeping his hand too still for it to come across as casual, trembling with the effort. If he moved his pinky just a little they’d be touching, and he’s painfully aware of this fact.

“What for?”

“Earlier, when I...I was asking for a lot.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts, the blankets rustling as he shuffles around, but as much as he fidgets, his hand stays where it is. “Billy...I don’t want you to have to go through that again, but…”

Billy, on an impulse—with a feeling somewhat akin to stepping off a ledge without a parachute—hooks his pinky over Steve’s. In the dark he hears a soft intake of breath, can just barely make out the way Steve’s mouth falls open, moonlight casting shadows when his tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

“I know. It wasn’t fair to—”

“No, no,” Steve flips his palm upward and laces their fingers together, squeezing Billy’s hand. “It’s not that. You have every right to be scared, and...look, this whole thing is batshit crazy, none of us know how to deal with it.” 

Billy runs his thumb along the length of Steve’s index finger, marvelling at the contact, and the way his pulse flutters when the gesture is returned. It takes him a second to find his voice, “True, but you’ve never asked me to mercy kill you.”

Steve exhales, the ghost of a laugh, and it warms the back of Billy’s hand. He shivers, his whole arm tingling. “Billy, I haven’t gone through half the shit you have.” A pause. “I want to help. Anything you need, just...not that.” 

Anything. It catches in Billy’s throat, stops his heart for just a second, reminds him that they’re inches apart, in bed together. For the second time tonight he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum, and he goes rigid, relaxing only minutely when Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Careful, pretty boy. Saying shit like that might give a guy ideas,” he murmurs, gaze searching, wandering Steve’s face, the shadows cast by the soft fall of hair across his forehead.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pulls their clasped hands to his chest. His heart is racing, but his voice is steady, “Well, have enough ideas with no follow-through and a guy might think you’re all talk.”

Billy’s breath catches. The world stops. “You...you don’t want me to follow through.” 

The reality of the situation hits him like a train. Flirting is one thing, he’s always had a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Steve, but this is something he’d only ever regretted letting himself imagine because he knew he’d never have it. And now that it’s within reach...

“See, the thing is…” Steve slides a little closer. His knee brushes Billy’s thigh. “I really, really do.”

“I—” his voice breaks, mouth dry, throat closing up as he tries to swallow past the lump making it hard to breathe. 

“Billy,” Steve whispers, a hot puff of air against Billy’s lips. “Please.”

Fuck.

He surges forward—hard enough that their teeth click together—and his mouth muffles Steve’s gasp. The hand not cradled against Steve’s chest comes up to touch his cheek, fingertips caressing his jaw, coaxing him closer, sliding back to thread into his hair. 

Steve’s lips are plush and warm against his, curved into a smile that leaves Billy tingling, dizzy and drunk on sensations. The way his mouth tastes, the softness of his skin under Billy’s scarred palm, the way his heart twists when Steve reaches out to touch his chest.

He pulls back, and rests his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes stay shut and he just breathes. Soaks up the moment. 

“God,” Steve sighs, nuzzling their noses together. “Always knew you’d be good at that.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks quietly, fiddling with the stray locks of hair behind Steve’s ear. He’s feeling...raw. Vulnerable. It’s a fragile state of being, one wrong word away from breaking. Or a few right words away from fucking bliss, but that never seems to be how it goes for him. 

“Yeah, even when we didn’t like each other I wondered. Annoyed the hell outta me.”

“Steve…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I always liked you.”  If his heart wasn’t already racing, it sure would be now. He braces himself for the worst.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a pause. Steve’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt. “Oh.” He presses a chaste kiss to Billy’s lips, lingering, before chuckling lightly. “That explains a lot actually.”

Billy’s cheeks burn. Yeah, he supposes it would. “You’re not...freaked out?” he ventures, hesitant. 

“Mm, nope.” He reaches up, brushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face. “Definitely okay with this.”

I love you.

The thought doesn’t shock him but the desire to say it out loud does. The way it lodges itself in his throat and sticks. He hasn’t said it to anyone—hasn’t wanted to say it to anyone—since his mother left. The precedent is intimidating, but…

Steve smells like honey and clean air, laying in bed with Billy, warm and pliant next to him tracing patterns in Billy’s scars, his gaze is fond, his smile is soft, and...and Billy’s in love.

He swallows. Pushes it down for now. 

He kisses Steve again. Slower. A gentle press of mouths, and another. Takes his time deepening it, teasing with his tongue. He waits for Steve to pull away, to decide that this thing is one thing too far, but it never happens. Steve lets him escalate, and gives as good as he gets. 

They’re both breathless and flushed and Billy’s riding high on the bubbling warmth in his chest, lightheaded from it. He slides his leg over Steve’s, straddling his thigh, pressing down, seeking friction. 

He shifts, rocking forward a little, and Steve moans, low and deep right in Billy’s ear.

They both freeze. Steve’s breath coming in ragged little bursts against the side of Billy’s face. 

“Pretty boy, as much as I’d love to hear more of that, no one else in the house does.”

“Jesus christ.”

“No need to bring him into it.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs and buries his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

“Aw, I get you all riled up, baby?” 

Steve slides a hand down, down, and palms Billy’s cock, drawing a short gasp from him. “Yes.”

They stay entangled the rest of the night, dozing in and out of consciousness, Steve pressing the occasional sleepy kiss to Billy’s collarbone. And...Billy’s not sure what will happen after tonight, but he knows it’ll be easier to deal with if he gets to keep this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t have the heart to ask, not yet, but for the first time in a while, he has hope.

[anonymous-cs]

hey mod steel, I’m aroace and agree with the points that have been made about the lack of representation for the lesbian flag in particular especially in regards to the aro/ace flags in previous litters, but your post about “room for discussion of exclusion of certain identities” just gutted me. are you exclus towards aro/ace people? please be willing to answer.

I don't consider myself to be an exclusionist or an inclusionist. I think the whole discussion is actually pretty nuanced. My personal belief falls into thinking more that ace/aro people would benefit from having their own community and spaces. This isn't to say that there cant be any ace/aro people in the lgbt community, because that's literally just not how intersecting identities function. 

I think the challenges lgbt people face are different than those of ace/aro people, and this effects the goals of each general identity group as well. Hence, why I think everyone would be better off if ace/aro people had their own community.

Homophobia and transphobia are intrinsically intertwined in a lot of places, as to why most places have their sga and trans communities worked into one. This is seen a lot with legal matters, as, for example, visibly non straight cisgender people being harassed and kicked out of bathrooms due to antitransgender bathroom bills. Marriage laws preventing same sex marriages have widely affected transgender people of all sexualities. Aphobia isn't intertwined with either of these things, and as its own space would then be able to pursue its own goals. 

The only evidence i can find of legal asexual discrimination is the 2015 russian driving law which mainly targets transgender people. honestly I think its a major mistranslation. I've seen a lot of people use a quote from The Association of Advocates of Russia for Rights that says the law bans from driving "all transgender people, bi-gender, asexual, transvestites, cross-dressers and people who need gender correction (surgery)." and I can't find any information about this association outside of this specific quote. That quote seems to be the only source for the russian law targeting asexual people directly. I really want yall to notice the fact that for some reason asexual is grouped in with “transvestites” and “people who need gender correction surgery” and “bi-gender”. Based on the general gender/sex focused language of the quote, I highly doubly that this is actually about asexuality as known by americans. Either this was some mistranslation of a russian term for “agender”, or they were actually referring to intersex people through mistranslations regarding “asexual reproduction” and specifically the russian term for “hermaphrodite” (I asked someone who speaks russian about this btw, not pulling it out of my ass). If anyone can find me some original sources for this, like from the association itself, id appreciate seeing them.

This isnt to say asexual people don't face any discrimination at all, just that they don't seem to have legal forms of discrimination directly targeting them anywhere in the world. However, transgender and sga people do face legal discrimination and oppression. I don't feel I need to explain this one. 

This large difference in the forms of oppression and discrimination the two groups face also really impacts how each group should then address and work to undo these forms of oppression and discrimination, and I think its ultimately far worse for both lgbt people and ace/aro people to be in seemingly one group working against these issues. I'm not out here trying to attack ace/aro people for existing. They're real people with real struggles, but I think there's just a disconnect between the community goals.

At the end of the day I realize I'm just some dude and my opinions don't have much effect on the world at large. I'm active in lgbt organizations. I'm active in an organization focused on transgender and intersex people. I'm active in real world shit so I generally don't spend energy on trying to push for these large scale community changes. They probably wont happen and I've accepted that. I just want to be able to legally change my name, not have to worry about the costs of medically transitioning, and not have to worry about the safety of the people I love. 

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Chapter 7: A Sentimental Journey

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 3,095

Warnings: None? I mean probably swearing but this is straight fluff

Tags: @divinity-deos @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @thecaptainsgingersnap @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @peterparxour @linkispink1995​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ggclarissa​ @boredoomfm​ @voidnarnia​ @anonymousonion33 @the-passionate-freak​

“Steve, take me to prom,” Steve nearly shot milk out of his nose. He’d spent the morning counting down the hours till school was over. The final essay for crabby old Lawrence was due in less than a week and you still hadn’t handed over his essay for his final rewrite, which wasn’t a problem, he could just wait until he was back in your bedroom. Steve liked your house a lot more than his. He liked your grandparents, especially Maude who’d sit him on the couch and show him photos from your childhood. He liked your bedroom and digging through your sketchbooks, he liked how comfortable you were in your own space. Samantha would sometimes join the pair of you there, eating popcorn and playing her 48s on your dusty Mickey Mouse record player. But most of the time it was the pair of you alone, working on assignments and swapping stories. He’d forgotten about Vicki entirely, he’d only joined Tommy for lunch after he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over.

“What?” he sputtered, swallowing hard. The whole table was watching him carefully. Vicki merely shrugged, batting her eyelashes at him. Steve’s stomach soured. It wasn’t as if Vicki wasn’t an attractive person, she was very pretty, but only on the outside. He didn’t really have it in him to stomach another night with her.

“I…I kind of have my eye on someone else, Vicks.” Steve watched as she deflated, looking down at her untouched kernel corn. “Besides, Hargrove’s probably itching to take you anyway.”

That was the wrong answer. Vicki immediately burst into tears, pushing away from the table. Carol rushed to console her, Tina taking up the rear. “They broke up last week, jackass.” She bit out, flipping Steve off angrily as she followed behind the crying Vicki.

Steve stood from the table, heading away from the mess he made. He didn’t want to hang out with Tommy anyway, especially with him glaring him down from across the table. He didn’t get why it mattered so much to Tommy that he do things the way he wanted. Dating Vicki didn’t make him more or less popular. It literally didn’t matter. They were going to graduate soon anyway.

Samantha grinned as she caught Steve walking over. “Harrington, twelve o’clock.” She whispered. You didn’t look up from your pad. The light had caught his hair right and you wanted to finish your shading before you lost the image in your mind. You heard Steve pull out the chair next to you and then your pad was tugged away.

“Hey!” you cried, your charcoal making a wide black streak down the page, effectively ruining the drawing.

“Who’s this supposed to be?” he held the sketchpad in front of him and then next to his face. Samantha chuckled darkly, shaking her head. “Is this supposed to be me?”

“Well, it was going to be till you ruined it.” You grumbled, snatching the pad back .

“That looks nothing like me!” Steve laughed loudly. In truth, he thought the man in the picture was too symmetrical and handsome to be him.

“On what planet?” Samantha scoffed, pulling her butterscotch pudding cup away from Steve’s greedy hands. He was a notorious pudding thief, and food thief in general, much to her annoyance and surprise.

“I get the best of everyone’s features…” you muttered, working on removing the mark he’d made “Not that there’s much to discard from you…”

“You missed the scar on my nose.” He replied with a shrug, grabbing your vanilla pudding. You both knew that you wouldn’t eat it.

You looked up “What scar?” Steve pointed to the bridge of his nose. You inched closer, getting a better view of the mark. Steve held his breath, utterly paralyzed. He felt like such a doofus. He was usually so smooth with girls, but you made him utterly tongue tied.

“Hm, yeah you do.” You pulled your face back, turning back to your pad, adding a thin line to the strong bridge of his nose. “How’d you get that?”

“Got hit in the face with a baseball bat in pee-wee t-ball.” Steve admitted. The participation trophy he had was from that game, his father took him out of the sport after getting hit. His whole team won the season, but because he didn’t play he got a tiny trophy from the league as a consolation prize.

“Seriously?” You and Samantha said in unison.

“Yeah, I made the paper and everything.” That was a point of pride for Steve, he had the clipping somewhere in his room. You and Samantha laughed at his cockiness. The image of elementary aged Steve with a huge gash down his nose and a toothless grin, holding up a dinky little trophy for the poor, underpaid reporter taking down the story.

The bell signalling the end of lunch blared over head and the three of you rushed to collect your things. Steve grabbed your tray, waiting for you to pack up your things. Samantha left without you, bidding her goodbyes to the pair of you.

Steve reached out to touch your elbow lightly, drawing your attention to him “We still good to hang out after school?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure, we can look over your essay.” You shrugged, trying to get the electric current blazing up your nerves to settle. Your breath caught in your chest every time he touched you. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, you liked him. You more than liked him; you didn’t even know how to explain it. You’d say it was love but you weren’t even sure how that was supposed to feel. All you knew is that the world seemed better when he was around and it wasn’t everything seemed greyer and duller. He was summer personified. He was sunshine and summer evenings and flowers and everything beautiful. And you never used to like all that shit. But now you wanted to bask in the glow of the sun that was Steve Harrington.

The hours till the bell always ticked slower and slower after lunch. The individual grains of sand cascaded past your eyelids as you zoned out in your other classes. When the final bell rang, the pair of you rushed from opposite sides of the school to meet in the middle. Samantha was walking disgustingly slow to your shared locker. “So, yeah I was going to ask Robin but I figure it might be suspicious enough to go with a girl, besides I don’t think I can snag another ticket so close to the deadline as is,” she’d been going on about whether or not she should invite her little junior paramour to the prom.

“Yeah, I mean most people already think you’re weird enough, showing up with a random junior might totally ruin you.” You sneered. Graduation was just around the corner, and Samantha’s acceptance to Wellesley was well taken care of. She was almost out of Hawkins; there was no point in trying to pretend that she was straight.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s her. She’ll still be stuck here after I leave, I don’t want to make things hard for her.” Samantha replied with a shrug, pulling her gym kit from the bottom of your locker.

“Just take my ticket. You know most of the soccer team is going anyway.” You replied, shoving her cleats into her bag. You dropped your textbooks onto the tiny top shelf and pulled your messenger bag across your body.  You spotted Steve from across the hall. He’d just left his gym class and his hair was wet and dripping on his face. He bounded over to you, grinning like a fool.

“You ready?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You ever going to dry your hair?” Samantha mused. Steve shook his head hard, water flying off his to dry it like a dog would. You and Samantha screeched, holding up your hands to hide your faces from the water.

You smacked Steve’s back “Enough!” you cried. Steve stopped immediately, laughing softly.

“I’m gone, catch you tomorrow.” Samantha waved, jogging off to probably find little Robin. You and Steve headed off towards Steve’s car. He drove the pair of you home even when you weren’t hanging out. It was nice to have a ride home, Hawkins weather wasn’t kind in spring and even in May when the weather turned warmer and the sun shone brightly, rain could still hit at any moment. That was how you rationalized making maps in your mind of Steve’s hand on the gear shift and the way his jaw clenched when someone tried to cut him off or turned too slow in the left hand turn lane. He was too beautiful. It was painful to watch him, like staring directly into the sun. You thought about kissing him more than you’d ever admit out loud. It felt like wanting to kiss the statue of David, like Pygmalion with his Galatea, too self-flagellating to even attempt. You didn’t know why you felt like his creator, but you did. You’d done nothing to build him, to mould him, and yet you left as if you knew him better than anyone else. You understood his nature, the way his mind worked.  

Steve parked in his driveway and the pair of you headed across the street to your house. Your house seemed to be a specific choice for both of you. For you, being in your own home was comfortable and safe. You knew it like the back of your hand and it felt correct to be there. A cocoon of security for you to burrow into. Recently, Steve’s mother had been home much more than a month ago. You couldn’t read his mind, but being somewhere else than his own bedroom was probably a nice change. He seemed to keep you away from his house when his mother was there.

You unlocked the front door, kicking off your shoes in the doorway and tossing them on the rack. Steve followed suite mindlessly, calling into the house “Hey, Maude! Mr. Y/L/N…” he still wasn’t certain that your grandfather liked him; he seemed at times disinterested and at others cruel and cutting.

“Nice to see you again, Steve.” Maude smiled, poking her head out of the living room to smile at the pair of you. Your grandmother liked Steve. You were certain that she’d like anyone new you brought home. She was desperate to meet any of your friends and refused to believe that she’d met them all.

You and Steve headed upstairs, taking your usual seats in your bedroom, you on your desk chair and Steve laying flat on your mattress, constantly staring up at the stars. You read back his essay to him, noting the problems you’d found. This was the third time you’d edited it and the words were well worn into both of your brains. He’d decided to write on way Heathcliff is painted as a monster within the text, a fine topic which Mr. Lawrence had suggested as one of the topic choices. His argument was that Heathcliff is painted as a monster because of his interest in a woman he’s come to find in a sisterly position in his life. Basically, incest isn’t cool. It was a hard argument to proof, because the answers weren’t in the text itself, you had to push him to find points within the spaces in between the words. You were proud of the final piece that he’d created; it was a strong case and a decent attempt at a college level essay.

“What’s the verdict, chief?” Steve asked, sitting up slightly to address you fully.

“It’s good, there’s still a few sentences that need reworking and a quote that I think you could axe, but even without those edits you can still swing a solid B.” you handed the papers over to him. The pages had the least amounts of edits you’d done for him all semester. He’d really improved his writing.

“You think?” Steve replied, flipping through the pages quickly, noting the wide circle around a bit of dialogue from the fifteenth chapter. He couldn’t help but smile at the wide, bubbly ‘B+’ you’d scrawled at the top of the page. You’d drawn a little smiley face next to the grade, a small touch you’d started doing after editing his second paper, a little one pager about the thirteenth chapter of Wuthering Heights. He liked the little smiles, they made him happy whenever he saw them, they were a little touch of you on his work, a detail he refused to miss.

“Duh!” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Steve stood from your bed, turning his attention to your shelf. You’d let him go through your work before, a small feat of trust for you. You didn’t usually even let Samantha go through most of your work. You’d usually choose what people could see of your work. But Steve seemed to like the strange, unfinished, or messy works hidden in binders or pads shelved. He pulled out a grey binder, labelled in masking tape ‘Hawkins’ Most Beautiful’. He held up the binder to you, raising an eyebrow. “Now, what the hell is this?” he asked.

“That was my first attempt at a portfolio, before I learned what a portfolio was.” You replied with a small length. Steve opened the binder, which you’d turned into a sort of album with plastic viewers holding sketches in place, both in black and white and colour. He recognized the first one immediately as Nancy from about a year ago, judging by her ringlet curls. It looked so much like he remembered her, but he knew the girl you’d drawn wasn’t who she really was. Steve flipped the page. He didn’t recognize some faces, strangers to him, and you hadn’t labelled them with names. You done a couple recreations of yearbook photos, he remembered signing a picture of Carol, Tina, and Vicki from the previous year, the trio grinning in Hawkins High merchandise.

“You could do a whole like show with these, they’re really cool.” He held the binder up, pages flipped to the portrait you’d done of Barbara Holland. When you’d drawn that, you hadn’t known that she’d go missing or wind up dead, she was just the girl sat across from you in the library with interesting glasses.

“I’d want to redo them first. They’re all rough drafts. I planned to redraw them, choosing to emphasize one colour for each of the drawings, but then I also planned to black out their eyes, and then I thought they were all stupid ideas.” You explained sheepishly.

“No, don’t touch them.” Steve cut in “They’re perfect the way they are.”

Steve wasn’t much of an art critic. He certainly wasn’t an objective judge. But despite logic, you blushed heavily, turning your gaze away. You wished Steve would look away but he didn’t, you felt his eyes on you. “You really don’t have to be so nice, you know…” you muttered, looking up to meet his eye with a shy smile.

“Go to prom with me?” Steve hadn’t thought about the question before he said it. The subject had been on his mind since that afternoon and when he told Vicki that he had someone else in mind for the dance. At the time he didn’t think much of the statement, now it seemed obvious who his subconscious was alluding to.

“What?” you breathed out wide eyed and confused. You hadn’t planned on going at all. Samantha wanted to go, and you’d bought tickets but when she gained interested in Robin you relinquished your ticket easily to her. She’d have more fun on a quasi-date with the junior.

“Go with me,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have a date yet do you?”

“I don’t even have a ticket…I gave it away.” you replied, looking at your feet instead of him. You felt like such a little geek. You knew Steve wasn’t laughing at you, but you still felt small.

“I have two. And I want you to go with me.” Steve said simply, reaching out and taking your hand.

“Are you sure? I mean your friends all hate me and I don’t think your status as king will be damaged if they see you with me.” You replied, shaking your head as if the statement was funny. You couldn’t imagine spending the night with Tommy and Carol, and having it go well.  You knew that it wouldn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be like that. It can be whatever you want.” Steve said easily. He just wanted you to feel comfortable and it was so obvious that you weren’t. “And I don’t care about those guys. I’ll kick their asses if they try anything.”

“Whoa, calm down, we don’t want you getting hurt.” You joked, looking up at the ceiling. You didn’t have to know Steve personally to know that he was not a fighter, losing to freak Jonathan Byers was not a small story in a small town. Steve laughed at his own expense. Internally, he knew he could fight when he needed to, to protect people, but he couldn’t exactly tell that story. It still scared him too much to speak of.

“So, will you?” he asked. You rubbed your lips together, unsure what the right answer was. If there even was a right answer. Your gut instinct said yes without a doubt, but your mind fought back at the notion of even humouring the idea. You’d get laughed out of the place. You’d get mocked. Steve was playing a cruel prank. He couldn’t want to be seen with you. But you met his eye and you didn’t see any malice there. His wide, expressive eyes screamed kindness and patience.

You swallowed hard, pushing away feelings of worry. “Yeah, okay…” you said softly, taking Steve’s hand again to steady yourself. Steve would protect you if he needed to. He’d promised to. And you trusted him.

“Yeah?” he asked, matching your tone.

“Yeah.” You nodded hard, almost as if to convince him as well as yourself. Steve’s face split into his wide grin and you found yourself smiling too. Despite yourself, you were a bit excited. You spent the afternoon with his hand in yours, not letting go unless you did, looking over the portraits and discussing what you saw in the faces. It was the first moment of peace your heart had found in a long time

[artificialqueens]

Sober (Symnali) - Pazinae

Summary: College girl Symone and her house love throwing parties. Denali loves a fun time, and finds herself there every weekend. Just to get drunk and party of course. No other reason. (AKA pretty lesbians in denial)

AN: a drabble inspired by denali coming over to the house of avalon a while ago, getting v drunk and dancing w symone (the outfit symone wears in the fic is from that day www.instagram.com/p/CODlQtnp-KM/ denali is wearing the pink dress from one of her older posts). also the time they streamed and were just drunkenly complimenting each other is the absolute Cutest and symnali is underrated. i have a lot of ideas for this so if yall are interested ill write a whole thing of what happened that night <3. my first fic and concrit is very much welcome!! song is sober by lorde :>

—

//Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight−//

They called themselves House Of Avalon. They had all pitched in to rent a house near campus over the summer, and a place leased for a year consisting of young 20 year olds can only go as well as you can imagine. Yet getting ready for their parties surrounded by constant noise and the dozens of paintings, framed photos, and tchotchkes lining the wall, was a comfortable kind of chaos. As chaotic as they may be, they undeniably threw the best parties. Not to mention their outfits never missed, especially not Symone.

The madness of creative, raging queers all shoehorned together to form the most disorderly harmony was a type of home Symone wanted to bask in forever, and, quite honestly, the driving reason to stay in the boring hell hole that is college. The obligation of finishing this shit for a flimsy paper and bragging rights was a little more grounded when it’s the only reason her friends are currently living with her. One day this will all be done, and they can find a job with their degrees. Finish college like everyone wants her too, make everyone proud that yes, she did it, and together the House Of Avalon can buy a huge house with 5 guest bedrooms so everyone and their mama can visit. Throw the biggest parties, a pool in their backyard with an outdoor kitchen, a huge patio out front by the house gates, and they could even install a stripper pole in the living room. Until then she’ll be up at 7:30am to ride the train for her morning class. 

The thought of the a certain dimpled blonde helped make the week bearable because at least on the weekends she can fly to somewhere else. With someone else. 

Symone, Gigi and Rosy hung around the sofa together, getting tipsy as they waited for more people to pour in. They chattered mindlessly, the comfort between the three was an indescribable kind, so effortless and familiar. But in between each pause in conversation, when the laughs and talk of annoying professors and ugly hair trends came to a brief end, Symone couldn’t help but scan the room. Peeking out the corner of her eye for a certain pair of hooded eyes hopefully lingering around. A girl with the most distinct, beautifully symmetric face that can charm a room, and a sugary voice so addictive to listen to even without a sweet tooth. She could listen to Denali talk and ramble as much as she wanted about anything in the world, and she’d eagerly nod along. Her hazy tone when she’s slurring and half awake, to the chirps and goofy grins at the height of the night. The adorable glint in her eyes of passion and excitement when she drunkenly goes off about some kpop group Symones never heard of before, but might just happen to start coming across more. Her dancing like a duck that makes Symone squeal, and cheer, and hide her face in her shoulder so no one can see the smile she’s unable to bite back. She dawdles around with her infectious giddiness and smile so comforting it eases the absurdity and rushing high Symone constantly lives with. And it helps that she’s built like some athlete godsend with the prettiest arms and perfect curves and the most stunning thighs and calves and soft warm blonde hair with icy blue tips to frame her angelic face. She’s been drinking and it’s definitely just the alcohol that makes her head waiver and ramble. 

Time rushes by wedged between her sisters, and soon Symone holds an empty cup for the second already. The house has certainly been getting fuller and fuller. Glancing around, she finds the only person she could (and frankly would) look at for all of eternity, staring at her. Denali’s hair is scooped into two high ponytails at either side, and her body’s fit into a little off the shoulder pink mini dress that hugged her body all too well. Symone wanted nothing more than to just hold her, dance the night away until the jumble of noises and bodies fade out. Seeing her just standing there, perfect and still, a toothy grin is plastered on Symone’s face without her consent. She barely even knows Denali but her sheer presence brightens the room, sends butterflies to flutter around like she’s having some cheesy school girl crush. She can’t tell you what Denali’s favorite TV show, movie or season is, or how she likes her coffee. But if the world were to close in on them right now, have the walls disintegrate, ceilings crumble and the heaps of flesh around them melt into the floorboards under them- they’d still be yelling out the wrong lyrics while they twirl against the counter tops. Rush outside and run in the pitch black where nothing exists but each other in their hands- and that’s good enough for her. 

Denali just likes Symone because she wants to have fun, and Symone’s good at that. It’s okay that she won’t ever like Symone when she’s sober; When she’s quiet, and wrapped in a blanket over her hoodie starring at the ceiling. When she’s fidgeting with her nails and playing with her the tips of her hair instead of talking. When she burns mac and cheese and decides to have a bag of ketchup chips for lunch. Whatever it is they have; it’s still good enough for her. 

Damn maybe Symone does think a little too much. She winks at the dumbstruck skater. The night’s just begun, and the only exit signs in the labyrinth in her sinkhole of a mind is alcohol and/or Denali. Symone wants the and version. 

//Oh, God, I’m clean out of air in my lungs

It’s all gone, played it so nonchalant//

When Denali came through the door she not-so-subtly headed straight to the living room. She had barely glanced in their direction- but she saw her. She was laughing, in her little squad of pretty girls. The clique of long legged doe-eyed queens stand in the center of the living room in their mini skirts and low waisted pants- lifelike statues seemingly taking up all the air in the crowded room. She can’t help it if she stares a bit! They have cute outfits and Denali just wants some inspiration. Everyone’s gawked at the trio anyways. She looks at Symone, because of the cute fuzzy blue bucket hat adorned on her head. No other reason.

 But it’s hard to look away when her face- her makeup is so stunning. With a shimmery pink cut crease, and glossy lips, and dabbles of pink brightening her cheeks. Lashes that make her eyes pop, and the highlight on her glistening skin matched with her flimsy silver spaghetti strap crop top that made her shine even more like a radiant disco ball. The backless top is tied together behind, with a thin string leaving the space between her neck to ass as exposed skin. How could a person be so perfect? And addicting to look at? Unzipped jeans hung at the curve of her hip to show her pink thong, which rose to hug her waist. Pink wedge heels lie under her painted toe nails, and fuck was she a living bratz doll. It wasn’t Denali’s fault that she was objectively so head to toe stunning. It wasn’t her fault that she bit the inside of her lip a litte. It wasn’t her fault that her heart skipped when she was bent over in laughter and cupping her manicured hands over her mouth. It wasn’t her fault that she forgot to look away. It wasn’t her fault that when Symone caught her gaze she stood there frozen  (if the options are fight, flight or freeze, which do you think the ice girl is gonna do?). It wasn’t her fault that she forgot how to breathe when the enchantress gave her a wink. She smiles and waves in return. Someone taps Symone’s shoulder for her attention, and she looks busy. 

Denali pushes away, swimming through the sea of humans swarming the halls until she can identify the way to the kitchen. She needs a drink. It’s early and she’s far too sober for this.

//It’s time we danced with the truth

Move along with the truth//

There’s no reason why she’d be into Denali. She could literally get anyone she wanted, with her gleaming smile and cute laugh, and the way she can make you smile and feel important and wanted. The way she stops sipping in her red solo cup to look at you, to nod at every word and stare like you’re beautiful and matter. The way it’s impossible for her to not be the prettiest in the room. Denali takes a shot, the burning taste a welcome pain at the back of her tongue.

Five months ago when Denali took a sharp breath outside the main door, she made Rose come with her because, fuck, she wasn’t going to a party by herself. Not back then, at least. When she was a flustered freshman in October who didn’t know how to have a good time. Back when she first met the party throwers, and a certain captivating spirit with braided honey gold hair in a skimpy black dress took shots with her. Complimented her wispy hair dyed blue at the ends. Told her she looked amazing in slurred giggles. Because she was tipsy. The truth is the only time this will mean anything is when the world starts spinning, the room gets hot, and their minds start to blur. 

//Ooh (Hey)

We’re sleepin’ through all the days

I’m actin’ like I don’t see

Every ribbon you used to tie yourself to me// 

“You good diva?“ 

"Nnnm, gimme uh ‘nother few minutes"  Symone’s head is pounding, and the only thing on her mind is the dazy blanketing warmth of sleep. Her mind is a knotted, jumbled up mess and trying to think about anything other than passing out makes her head throb. Natural light from the outside pours through the windows, and through her squinted eyes, the wooden table across the room is glowing from the suns heat. A vague need to eat, drink water, and vomit creep up on her. She turns to lay on her side, wedges the blanket between her arms, pulls it higher up and tucks her hands under her head.

"You sure?”

“You still have your makeup you want to wash it off?”

“We can take it off”

“Girl its 2pm" 

"Let her sleep!" 

Half asleep, all the different voices mesh as one blob of noise. Indistinct chatter fades as Symone slowly luls back to sleep. Until-

"Where should I put the polaroids of Symone and Denali making out?” Peaceful slumber is very quickly forgotten when realization is drawn. 

“What the fuck happened last night?” Is the only thing Symone can muster out before throwing her head deeper into the pillow, all of a sudden quite awake. Focusing on the vague mist of memories from the night before, she replays it through her head starting from when she went up to Denali, taking shots in the kitchen.

[missallsundayyy]

PART ?? OF MY CHROLLO X ELIZABETH FIC & IF U WANT THE FIRST PART ITS ON MY MASTERLIST, like i said I already publish a few chapters on Wattpad but only decided to post maybe 1-4 chapters that i'm biased with.

School girl and a Bandit

Elizabeth was waiting for Chrollo outside the mall where he had ask her to meet him. She suspected that he was going to buy her more things again. Truthfully she really did like him a lot and she loved spending all her time with him. Being with him didn't make her crazy, she did not have any of her 'episodes' with him around and she loved it. She felt that her condition might push him away or turn him off but she also knew he somewhat enjoyed torturing her from time to time, that's why she knew this man was perfect and because of that very reason she didn't want him to leave her.

Her heart raced and fluttered waiting for him, meeting him always excite her.

"Elizabeth??" a familiar voice interrupted her but not the voice she was waiting for.

She spun around and her big shining eyes widened at the person.

"Ilumi???" surprised but her voice had a hint of glee. "What are you doing in Yorknew?" she regain her composure

"I'm here on an assignment..." he said, his eyes never leaving her. He mentally took note of how much the girl had grown in just over a year. Her face was glowing, her body figure was more curvaceous than ever, her bust seemed to have doubled, maybe tripled than the last time he'd seen her. It's been a year since Illumi had talked or met Elizabeth. "You look.....very beautiful Elizabeth" he continued, he tried to compliment her without sounding like a pervert.

She blushed at his words but was lowkey upset because whyyyyyyy did he have to show up now. Illumi was Elizabeth's first crush. She knew who he was and she had asked him to fulfill her pain and pleasure but he cared too much for her so he wouldn't be obliged to her request. She left Illumi because she didn't want to be upset further, she questioned why he wasn't able to do it when he was trained professionally and his answer was because he was falling for her and regardless who he was, he was never going to hurt her and he had made that so very clear to her.

Elizabeth was going to say something when she felt Chrollo's arms snake around her waist and the sound of his voice joined their conversation. Illumi looked at the scene that was unfolding in front of him and he had a questioning look on his face.

"Chrollo."

"Illumi." Chrollo's voice was cool and solely based on greeting a business partner. "You know Elizabeth?" he questioned the eldest Zoldyck assassin. Illumi smiled, amused. "Of course. Someone like her would be hard to notice......but we're just friends now of course."

Chrollo had his brows raised at his reply 'now?' his mind questioned but he didn't probe further. "Well....I guess I'll be off now then I have business to attend to. I'm sure I'll be doing future business with you once more" Illumi gestured to the leader of the phantom and then turned back to Elizabeth "It's a pleasure to see you again...." his eyes lingered on her longer than Chrollo liked before he walked away.

"That was very awkward..." Elizabeth muttered softly to herself. She looked up to Chrollo who had an unreadable expression. "Ch..chrollo..??" she called him out softly and snapped him away from his thoughts. He looked down on her and smiled at her adorable questioning facial features. "Let's go Elizabeth, I've reserved a limited edition diamond earring for you. This piece is the only pair in the whole world." he said lovingly at her. She gasped internally, this man treats her too good she didn't know what she has ever done to even deserve this.

"B..bbut...it's too much if i'm the only in the world that has it....i can't possibly accept this..." she was cut off with a kiss. "mphmm!" His lips captured hers roughly and silenced her refusal.

"You can't say no to me Elizabeth..now let's go"

TIME SKIP

"That looks very pretty on you Elizabeth!" Chrollo complimented the girl who was now checking her new accessory out in the mirror. Her cheeks flushed light red at his compliment.

"This jewelry is so beautiful Chrollo...the soft blue globe shape of this is sparkling!! It's almost like it's shining...!" she exclaimed whilst looking in the mirror.

He smiled looking at the happy young girl, he could feel the happiness radiating off her. "Yes I agree and the colour of it compliments your eyes very well because both shines almost the same." he adds on making her turn to him blushing even more.

"Thha...thank you Chrollo, these are very beautiful! I love it!!" she exclaimed very cutely. (yall would know how Eli is if you watch seven deadly sins)

He laughed and nodded his head "Well you can take a look around then after this we'll go shopping for anything you want."

Elizabeth knew better than to argue with Chrollo but when she think back about it, he was the most wanted criminal like ever and he probably makes billions a day just by robbing someone or something.

They continued the rest of the day shopping and dining at the finest restaurants in the city, he was an absolute gentleman and she was the most divine date he will ever have.

TIME SKIP

"You pamper me so much and now my closet doesn't have enough storage" Elizabeth fussed and racked through all her clothings trying to make space for all the stuff she's bought from today. Chrollo was amused looking at the young teenager sprawled on the floor trying to organize her outfits. "Are you not allowed back to your respective apartments?" he asked.

"Well the school hasn't announced anything regarding that yet so i'm stuck in this ugly dorm." she complained but he laughed, "I'll arrange for you to be allowed back to your apartment"

Elizabeth crossed her hands and turned to him "And how are you going to do that exactly" her sassy tone amused him even further. He stood up and squat in front of her, using his finger tilting her face up to him "Do you forget who I am Elizabeth? I can have and do anything I want" he said dangerously. This made her want to unleash her crazy on him but she nodded afraid her mouth might slip any bullshit out.

TIME SKIP

Elizabeth was in her school library trying to reach for the book that she had to reference in her assignment but luck wasn't on her side when she realised that the book she wanted was at the top of the ridiculous book shelf.

"Fuck." she swore silently.

"You know you can ask for help if you need it princess." a deep familiar voice came directly from behind her and his voice went straight down her spine. She whipped her head almost immediately and was met with Illumi's face 'fuck my luck today' she mentally cursed. "Uhh..Illumi...what.. whaa are you.." He had her book in a blink of an eye "Your welcome" he cut her off with his oh so charming smirk. Elizabeth blushed at how close they were currently, she could feel his body heat radiating off him. "I..we..." before she could get a word in he had grabbed her waist roughly and slammed her against the library's study table and smashed his lips against hers. He thanked the heavens that he could again feel her soft and plump lips, the sweetness from her mouth engulfed him once again..it has been far too long he has had her like this.

"Mmmph!!" Elizabeth was shocked at the bold move that her former lover pulled. She tried to push him off her but OBVIOUSLY he was wayyyy too strong. His both hands groped her waist and thighs and he mentally worshipped the soft porcelain skin she had. Elizabeth's will to fight Illumi's kiss and touch was slowly weakening and she felt the familiar feeling of his touch once again. He smirked against her lips when he felt the girl loosening up to him. Before she could return his advances the oldest zoldyck son was flung backwards by an unknown force.

"Get off her." a calm yet raging voice filled the empty library. Illumi had crashed into the wall leaving a hole. Chrollo's back was facing her, she was afraid he would get the wrong idea and she could feel his hostility within him. He turned back to Elizabeth "I leave you for a day and you've already replaced me Eli?" he said to her with one eyebrows arched. She stuttered trying to explain herself whilst her face was still red as a tomato. "You're lucky you're always this cute, I could never get mad at you." he finished before turning his gaze back at Illumi.

"While I'm glad we are able to work together and be professional, I would be very much love it if you keep your hands to yourself and leave my girlfriend alone, Illumi. This will be the only warning you get." Chrollo snapped at the assassin.

Illumi laughed "I didn't know Elizabeth was YOUR girlfriend, it seems that she has taste for dangerous men." he turned his gaze back at Elizabeth's flustered figure still on the study table. He would've taken her there and then if Chrollo hadn't interrupted.

"My apologies then, i'll be going now" with that he vanished in an instant.

Chrollo let out a deep sigh "I'm honestly taken aback to know that you and Illumi were once lovers Elizabeth." he walked towards the silver haired who was standing up adjusting her ridiculous school skirt that was way too short.

"No matter...now that you are mine, no man will ever dare lay their hands on you." he closed their gap and kissed her roughly, grabbing her waist tightly she knew it was going to bruise. He continued his kiss by going down her neck, licking her sensitive spot. "ahh...gg..god.." her hands instinctively combed through his hair. "I'll show you how you're supposed to handle a little girl." he growled in her ears, he's had it with all the men that had shamelessly ogled her.

He dropped on his knees and spread her legs wide apart and Elizabeth gasped at the realisation of what he was about to do. The thought of him going down on her in her school library made her dripping wet already. She moaned quietly when she felt two fingers sliding up and down teasingly.

"Dripping wet already? Is this from me or Illumi Elizabeth?" he growled angrily plunging three fingers in her without warning. Her head jerked back and she let a loud moan out of her mouth.

"Fuckkkkk!" he fingered her hard and fast not letting her answer him, his fingers went in and out at a monstrous pace she thought she could see stars. She gripped the table so hard her fingers were almost white. He curled his fingers and stimulated her insides and she thought she was going to cum there and then. She almost felt her release when he pulled his fingers out, she whimpered at the loss of pleasure and he gave her a knowing smirk. He brought his fingers up to her lips and grazed the bottom lips with his fingers that were now glistening with her juices. "Suck" he commanded. She swore she could've cum from that command itself. Elizabeth stuck her tongue out teasingly, licking his fingers that were fully coated with her cum.

Chrollo growled and shoved 3 fingers down her throat "I said suck little girl. Im not playing games here" he snapped and proceeded to lap her dripping wet core with his tongue. Elizabeth moans were half silent due to his fingers going in and out of her mouth. Her tongue swirled and sucked skilfully like how she would go down on him while he worked on her pussy magically. Her vision was in a daze, her eyes half lidded but still could make out the handsome man going down on her hungrily. "Gyah,...mmhmm.. chro...llo..." she tried to speak even with his wet fingers in her mouth. She had one hand gripping his black hair and one gripping his hand that was fucking her mouth.

Chrollo stopped his pleasuring assault on her and looked up and was faced by the most erotic sight he has ever seen. He yanked back his fingers that were in her mouth and used the very slippery and wet finger to shove it back into her hot hole. "Fuck fuck fuck. Chrollo!! I'm..im gonna....ahhh" she chanted his name like a mantra and he had a front row seat for it. He watched her body wriggle with pleasure, her hands in his hair gripped so tightly he thought she was hanging for dear life. "You're dripping wet and you're soaking my hands with your cum already. Cmon open your eyes and look down Elizabeth." he used his other hand and gripped her face and forced her to watch herself be fucked by 4 of his fingers. The sight was too hot Elizabeth she felt herself cum.....hard and she felt strings of liquid spurting out from her.

"ahh fuck fuck I feel so...this...sooo good I caan..haaa!" she trashed on the table and she felt so euphoric and this was only from his fingers. She felt her orgasm lasted for at least a minute and he removed his fingers from her.

"You look so sexy when you squirt like that...just from my fingers Elizabeth." he said, his hands shirt now covered with a lot of her cum. Elizabeth was so spent from the intense orgasm, she didn't have the energy to be embarrassed.

"Take me to my room please Chrollo...I can't moveee..." she whimpered still feeling her high. He chuckled down on her "You're so cute Elizabeth..should I fuck you now before I bring you to your room?" She let a low moan at the thought of him taking her in her school library. "No!! not here...you can fuck me in my room! not here..."

He laughed at her plea "I'll carry you to your room okay?" she nodded shyly. Chrollo could feel himself falling for this girl day by day and he didn't know if it was a good thing or.

[pockpop]

to fall in love 03│ kim taehyung

↬ synopsis: to marry or not to marry. taehyung is ready to propose but he’s wondering if you two are even ready. includes some headcannon of their relationship 

↬ genre: fluff, angst, husband!taehyung

↬ requested? yess

part one│ two│ three

taehyung sat against the headboard of your bed, the early morning light peaking onto the sheets. you were sound asleep by his side, face mushed against the silk pillow cases you begged him to buy.

rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he leaned over to his bedside table and opened the middle drawer, digging around for a moment, his long fingers finally felt the velvety box they were searching for.

you stirred by his side from the noise but didn’t wake up fully. he returned back to his previous spot, now with the box clutched in his grasp.

he was surprised there wasn’t dents in the box from how long he had been carrying it around and how he basically took it everywhere before it found a home in the nightstand. opening it, your engagement ring sat snug and safe inside, the diamonds gleaming magnificently.

he hadn’t had much sleep the entire night, surprisingly so. the band was finally on a official break and he was so excited to sleep next to you again, but sleep didn’t come easily at all.

his mind was clouded with all these thoughts. regrets and annoyance really. annoyed at the fact he couldn’t figure out how he wanted to propose to you, how no matter his ideas, none were enough or seemed the right choice.

closing the box, he sighed deeply and it was that that made you stir again, waking you this time.

“what time is it?” you ask, voice thick with sleep. taehyung tucked the box into his fist and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“early, 5 something.” you squinted up at him, eyes slightly burning from fatigue.

“you are never up this early babe, what is it?” you were already sitting up, cuddling up to his side, tucking yourself close to his warmth. “you’ve been acting weird since you got home.”

“I-“ he bit his lip, feeling his heart pounding in his ears because how can he tell you that he’s second guessing everything?

taehyung slid out of bed, alarming you and you started to say him name when he suddenly got down on one knee.

“y/n, i’m really not good at this.. telling my feelings, being upfront and opening up easily... I’ve known for so long, since that day your precious drink all over my Saint Laurent coat that you were it.”

you giggled at that, your eyes tearing up a little and seeing your smile put him at ease to continue.

“that that moment was supposed to happen, that one day you were either gonna break my heart or save it. I was honestly ready for both the moment we met eyes for the first time. what - what I’m trying to say here is I want to spend everyday cleaning up your mess and waking up to you, even if you drool all over the pillows. I want to play video games with you all night and eat bad food at odd hours, I want forever to kiss away your every fear and worry, to vacation with your family and let them expose you, to have hundreds of animals and mini us’ running around and bugging the shit out of us.”

taehyung took a deep breath and opened his palm, the velvet box held out to you. he opened it slowly and looked you right in the eye, the nerves creeping up his neck and his heart beating so loud he didn’t even hear himself ask,”y/n y/l/n, will you marry me?”

“yes, yes!” taehyung grinned and jumped up catching you in his arms, twirling you around in the small space of the bedroom. he laughed as you attacked his face with kisses before finally pressing your lips together in a passionate kiss. as you pulled away, he smirked,”see that’s real love if you can tongue kiss each other with morning breath.”

laughing, you playfully his his chest,”shut up and put the ring on my finger now.”

taehyung laughed with you and delicately, he slipped the ring on your ring finger. ultimately, it was a perfect fit.

the engagement of course had its ups and downs. if you should have a traditional Korean wedding or a modern one, who to invite, who not to invite, the venue. what kinds of foods, the garments, the date.

you found yourself one night honestly wondering if you were really ready as you said you were. to be tied by law forever to someone and for the rest of your lives, you will share everything and become one.

were you ready for that? the sacrifices? the compromises and struggles? taehyung was famous, hugely and had already the weight of his team and his fans on his shoulders, but this marriage was seriously going to change everything.

did you really want to be known as the black yuko ono ? as the one who broke up bts?

the comments online were already hinting at it after your engagement was announced and you were freaking out to say the least.

freaking out so much that taehyung was surprised to come home to you twisted your ring between your fingers, a empty glass of wine near and teary eyes.

setting down his things, settled beside you on the couch and grabbed the hand twirling your ring. you watched at he took the ring and slid it back onto your ring finger, snug and safe.

“I hope you’re not having second thoughts.” he whispered and momentarily you hesitated to shake your head no, but you did. his visible sigh of relief made you look over to him.

“what? you aren’t afraid of this at all?”

“the only thing that scares me is you not saying I do at the alter.”

“but your fans and the band, I bet the company is having a field day about this. and my family keeps asking me if I’m sure and if I believe you’re the one and-“

“and?”

“and you are the one! but it’s like everyone is making me feel as if I should be thinking twice, if we are even ready for this! I mean you’re going to the military soon and what if-“

“stop. we are getting married and we are going to struggle and have the same ups and downs as any other couple, married couple, whatever. but you and I can get through anything! why? because I love you and you love me, yeah?”

you sniffles leaning your head on his shoulder,”yeah,” you mumbled out, snuggling closer to him. he wrapped an arm around you and kissed your head,”it would destroy me to not have you here, you know?”

you didn’t say anything and you didn’t need to, because you too would be destroyed without him.

—

headcannon of marrying taehyung & the married life

↬ your wedding would be a mix of a traditional korean wedding and a modern one

↬ like on a beach and right at sunset. a private ceremony because nobody was about all the news coverage and wildness

↬ you just wanted it to be personal and also so nothing could go wrong

↬ both of your families were finally meeting and even with the language barrier, it worked out better than you expected

↬ jimin was the best man and had to support taehyung who was trying not to cry when you finally walked down the aisle

↬ your honeymoon was on a remote island that he didn’t want anyone to know about but you two so it would be just yall, no social media, no cameras

↬ best time of your life no doubt and ofc lots of sexy time ya know

↬ always coming with the married goals photos

↬ has tons of paintings of you in his art room because you are his best model

↬ like you both talked about, you ended up getting a house to accommodate the animals and children

↬ even though you two only had yeontan, taehyung assured you children very soon

↬every time he toured, he brought you back a souvenir from each place.

“tae? it’s a titty mug.”

“what? i was in a rush, but don’t they look just like yours?”( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“i worry about you sometimes.”

↬ your number one supporter for whatever career path you choose, even when he doesn’t want you working - he’s kind of traditional in that way

↬ when you both got time off, you two took various trips around the world to random countries picked out on the globe.

taehyung stood beside his favorite globe you had bought him in Australia and stood straight.

“alright my love, it is your turn to pick the next destination.”

“do I have to be blindfolded though?”

“shh yes or it ruins the whole randomness.” taehyung happily spun the globe and you reached out a hand to stop it. pointing your finger, you heard taehyung snicker.

“Amsterdam here we come, I heard the red light district is phenomenal.”

you ripped your blindfold off just in time to see him erupt into laughter at your reaction.

“remind me why I married you.”

↬you two have a wild marriage though

↬him always pushing your limits and you keeping him grounded

↬ lowkey talks about kids a lot and when you tell him you're finally pregnant, he’s the happiest man alive

↬ such a great dad, making sure each of your children feel loved by him and always hates leaving for tours that he considers taking a break from music during the first year or two of your first child’s life

↬ seriously whoever marries tae is super lucky because i see him being a great husband and so loving, whatever mishaps or troubles that come your way, he’s willing to deal with them together and always put you first

[benhardyisdaddy]

Check Up

MASTERLIST 

(here it is babies :’) that request yall have been wanting and i hope u like it, im sorry if its not as good. i literally don’t know any doctor terms so yeah i guessed LOL ily all sm BYEEE)

Word Count: 2,675

The bell on the door jingles as you open it up. Cool air washes over you as a slight chill creates tiny goosebumps all over. You walk inside the building and look around. There are two old women in the waiting room and they’re both reading magazines. You looked towards the front desk and slowly walk up. A young, pretty brunette greets you with a wide smile.

“Hi, do you have an appointment?” she asks cheerfully.

You can’t help but smile back. Hers was so contagious.

“Um, yeah. I have an appointment with Doctor Taylor.” you say.

You were at your six month checkup at the gynecologist. You hadn’t been going like you were supposed to, so you are starting to change that. This was a brand new doctor you chose and you were slightly nervous. You were sure that this man was old and had been in this line of practice for a while.

“Oh, perfect. Miss (Y/L/N)?” she asks, confirming you.

“That’s me.” you reply back, smiling.

The lady nods and types for a moment on the computer. You glance around and take in everything. Everything was marble and almost beautiful. It was clean and you were comfortable with your decision on choosing this place. The lady looks back to you.

“Alright, Miss (Y/L/N), you’re all checked in. We have everything we need so just take a seat and you’ll be called back shortly.”

You thank the lady and find a seat facing the door. You sit down and fidget with your hands. You were use to a women being your doctor, so having a man do it was almost nerve wracking to you. You shake your leg and space out deep in thought, not even noticing the door open up and a women looking around.

“(Y/N)?” she calls out.

You look up quickly and stand. She smiles to you as you walk towards her.

“Hi, (Y/N). Just gonna take you back to your room and get you all settled in.”

You walk down a narrow hallway and pass by a closed door. A man was speaking on the inside and you couldn’t help but catch his voice. It was smooth and attractive and you caught yourself wishing you could see the face behind it. The nurse leads you to a room all the way in the back and you step in. A table is sat in the middle of the room and a hospital type gown is folded neatly on top of it.

“Alright, so if you wouldn’t mind taking off your jeans and underwear and putting the gown on. When you’re done, just sit on the table and the doctor will be in here with you shortly. He’s just finishing up with a patient.”

You nod and sit your purse down on a table in the corner.

“You’re in here for just a check up, correct?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah. Just a check up.”

The nurse writes something down on her clipboard and looks up to smile.

“Alright, perfect. So just change your clothes and you’re all set.”

You thank the woman as she exits the room and closes the door behind her. You hurriedly slide your pants and panties off and sit them next to your purse on the tiny table. You rush to the bed and slide onto it. The paper under you crinkles as you situate yourself. You look around and stare at the giant posters on the wall that describe the female anatomy and get lost in the very descriptive illustrations. You’re brought back to reality when there’s a slight knock on your door. You sit up straight and make sure you’re covered properly.

“Come in!” you call out.

The door slowly opens up and a head peeks in.

“Just making sure you’re decent, love.” says a familiar voice.

“Oh, I’m-”

Your words are cut short when the man fully enters into the room. Your eyes open wide as a handsome, young blonde man enters. The complete opposite of what you were expecting. He was so good looking and now, even worse, you were self conscious. Why didn’t I shave my legs today, you harshly think to yourself. The man looks at you and stares almost a second too long. You watch him shake his head as he tries to clear his mind.

“Um, hi, Miss (Y/L/N). I’m Doctor Taylor. I see here that you’re in for a check up?” he asks, not able to look up at you.

That voice. That was the voice you had heard earlier and wanted to see the face behind it. Now you did and you were not disappointed. This man so gorgeous that it made your cheeks burn and you know that he noticed.

“Um,” you clear your throat, causing him to look up. “Yeah. My check up. Yes.”

He looks at you with those big blue eyes and you can’t look away. How in the world was this man a gynecologist and not a full time model? Why are you so flustered right now? Stop thinking about this! Doctor Taylor nods his head and places your chart on the counter. He grabs a few latex gloves and slides them on. He walks back over to you and licks his lips.

“If you can just lay back and place your feet onto the sternums.” he half whispers.

You stare at him as you lean back and spread your legs. He glances over at you and tenses his jaw as you spread them. You take in a breath as you place your feet in the sternums.

“So, Miss (Y/L/N),” he starts.

“You can call me (Y/N).” you say, looking at him.

Roger freezes and smirks to you.

“So, (Y/N), you seem nervous.”

Your eyes open slightly at his bluntness.

“Oh, um. I don’t know…” you say fast.

Roger smiles and sits down on a stool.

“Guess I’ve never had a gynecologist so hot before.” you say before you can catch yourself.

You freeze and can’t believe you actually just said that out loud. Roger smirks once again and looks up to you, watching your cheeks turn red.

“Well,” he starts. “Guess I haven’t had a patient as beautiful as you.” he says quickly, suddenly realizing the words falling from his lips.

Now it’s his turn for his cheeks to burn red. You bite your lip and feel a sudden burst of confidence hit you.

“Bet you say that to all your patients.” you joke.

Roger takes in a breath and half laughs.

“Only the ones I put my fingers in.” he says with a quick wink.

Fuck. That one made something dark in your stomach rise. Oh no. You felt your heat starting to get wet. No, no, no! Not right now! Not here! You squeeze your legs together and Roger notices. He clears his throat and scoots closer to you on the stool. He brings himself in front of your legs and watches you closely.

“Well,” you start. “Now I know why you have so many good reviews online.” you tease.

Roger suddenly feels his cock twitch in his pants as he catches sight of your panties on the table in the corner. He couldn’t get horny right now. That was so inappropriate. He attempts to clear his head, but that doesn’t help.

“Good thing you read them.” he says back, another wink. “Alright, I’m just gonna have you, um, spread your legs for me, doll.” he says quietly.

You bite your lip and open them up, feeling cool air hit you. Roger’s hand reaches towards you and he pauses.

“Just gonna check you now. Gonna insert a finger in you.”

You bite your lip and stare up at the ceiling, awaiting for it. Suddenly there’s a brush against your heat and a finger lingers at your entrance. You hold your breath as he slowly pushes it into you. You hold back a moan, but a heavy breath escapes you and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Roger. You were so wet and slick around his covered fingers. He knew what arousal was, and this was definitely it. He was so attracted to you, he couldn’t help his next actions. He could tell you liked him too.

“I’m gonna add a second finger, alright?” he asks, his pants extremely tight.

You nod fast and squeeze your eyes shut. Roger suddenly slides in a second finger and this time you moan. You don’t mean to, but it happens. Roger pauses his movements and your eyes fly open. Okay, you think to yourself. He definitely heard that. Your heart is beating fast as you lie there motionless. Suddenly, Roger slides his fingers even deeper into you and slightly curls them. You don’t hold back your moan this time and bite your lip.

“Doctor Taylor,” you gasp out.

“Call me Roger.” he whispers.

You grip the paper beside you as it crinkles up.

“Roger… I, um…”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, almost disappointed.

But his disappointment subsides when you breathe out a fast no. He smiles and curls his fingers once again. Your hospital gown had risen up and he could see your heat. It was glistening with your juices. Juices that were now dripping onto the paper under you. His crotch ached as you try to catch your breath. Just then, Roger adds another finger. This time you buck your hips forward and pause. Roger quickly slides them out of you and you take in a deep calm breath.

“(Y/N)-” he goes to apologize to you.

“Do you by chance want to fuck me as bad as I want to fuck you?” you ask, sitting up on your elbows to look at him.

Your face had suddenly turned very serious as you look him up and down. Roger gulps and a smile slowly forms on his face.

“You’re a blunt girl, aren’t ya?” he asks.

You smirk and shrug.

“Not every day my gyno is a super hot guy. I’m also really good at knowing what I want.” you say. “And right now, I really, really want you. As bad as that sounds.”

You look down at the huge bulge in his pants and smile.

“I’m so fucking happy you said that.” he says, walking closer. “Been thinking it this whole bloody time.”

You smirk and watch as his eyes look at your now very exposed lower half.

“On your back. Spread your legs.”

You listen to what he says. Roger sits back down on his stool and peels off his gloves, tossing them to the floor. He runs his hand over your thighs slowly as he stares at your heat.

“I never do this.” he says low. “Never.”

“Good, because neither do I.”

Rog smirks up to you then lowers his head, attaching his lips directly to your swollen clit. You moan and place your hand over your mouth. The feeling of his tongue swirl around your overly sensitive nub was amazing. You wanted this man from the moment you heard his bloody voice, and now his head was between your legs. Some kind of doctor appointment this is. You grab his hair with your free hand and pull harshly. Roger moans against you and you gasp at the vibrations.

“You taste so fucking good.” he whispers against you.

“Feels so fucking good.” you reply back.

You feel your legs begin to shake and you didn’t want to cum just yet.

“Wait! Not yet!” you cry out, but not too loudly.

The fact anyone could walk through that door was almost exciting to you. Roger backs away and wipes his mouth off.

“I just really wanna know how you feel.” he confesses.

You feel your heart beat fast as you grin at him. He suddenly stands up and looks down at you.

“On your feet. We only have five minutes left.”

You sit up and slide off of the bed. Roger cups your face and begins kissing you harshly. You can taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into him as he trails his hands on your lower back and squeezes your bare butt.

“Turn around and bend over.” he whispers.

You spin around quickly and lean yourself over the edge of the bed. Roger’s behind you as he rubs his fingers up your folds.

“I never do this.” he repeats himself as he pulls down his pants, freeing his hard cock.

“I know,” you laugh. “You said that.”

Roger spreads your legs even more and begins rubbing himself up and down on your wet heat, coating himself.

“I know. Just making sure you know.”

He continues rubbing and then pauses.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard and quick, got it?” he whispers.

You lean forward even more and wiggle your butt at him. He lets out a low growl and without warning, slams himself into you. You go to yell out, but his hand is brought to your mouth and covers it. Roger wasn’t joking. He was fucking you hard and fast. Giving you no time to adjust to him. He slams into you and doesn’t stop. He angles his hips and thrusts once more, hitting your sweet spot each time. Your eyes roll in the back of your head as he repeatedly hits it.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” you mumble into his hand.

“I’m gonna cum.” he whispers, his voice shaky.

You feel him twitch inside of you. His other hand grips your hip to help roll yourself onto him. Roger leans his chest into your back and his heavy breathing turns you on even more. What were you doing? You come in to get a check up, and now you’re fucking your doctor. Guess you can cross this one off your bucket list.

“You feel so fucking good.” he moans out. “Who made you this wet again?” he teasingly asks.

“Y-You.” you mumble in his hand.

He smirks and continues ramming into you.

“I’m… I’m gonna cum. Where do you want me to cum?” he asks quickly, removing his hand.

“On my- Ah, shit! On my face!” you say fast.

Just then you orgasm hits you out of nowhere and hard. Roger replaces his hand over your mouth as you bite it. Your legs shake fast and your whole body convulses underneath him.

“Good girl. Good girl.” he praises you.

You come down from your high as Roger still slams into you. His thrusts become sloppier.

“I’m about… I’m about to cum! Fuck! Here I go!” he whispers out.

He pulls out of you and you drop to your knees. You look up to him and open your mouth wide, your tongue darting out. He looks down at you and watching you on your knees, ready for his cum to fill your mouth, is what pushed him over the edge. Roger jerked himself off a few more times and suddenly his seed spurts out of him and all over your mouth and tongue. You close your eyes and allow the warm liquid to run down your throat. Roger’s body shakes as his eyes roll back. He jerks once more and it’s done. You close your mouth and swallow all of him. Roger catches his breath and his eyes are hooded. He watches you stand back up and wipe your mouth off.

“Shit…” he whispers as he zips his pants back up.

“Best doctor appointment ever. Now I know why you have so many good reviews.” you say with a wink, causing Roger to laugh loudly.

He walks up to you and smiles.

“That was amazing. Thank you.” he says, moving a piece of hair out of your face. “Will I see you in another six months, or?” he asks, looking a bit sad.

“I was thinking about making my appointments weekly.” you say causing him to smile. “Or... You could just take me out to dinner.”

Roger smirks and leans his face awfully close to yours.

“As long as I get to do that again.”

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[captaingondor]

Okay, but if you're still looking for romantic prompts, how about Character A saying I love you to Character B without using the words "I love you." (Through actions, or an "as you wish" situation. That kinda thing.)

Thanks for the prompt!!For this, I wrote about probably my favorite of my OC ships. Tragically I probably won’t be able to show as much of their relationship as I’d like in the work itself, and neither of them is the perspective character. This is fortunate in that  I can write whatever I want for self-fanfic without stepping on the main narrative’s toes, and unfortunate as I want to just write their whole relationship basically which made this a little hard to pare down. Hope y’all love them too!If you want some dramatic irony, also read this piece I wrote with Corrianne earlier. And, if you are curious, the correct way to pronounce her name is ‘cor-ee- AHN,’ with a French R sound.

How Empress Corrianne Learned to Speak Her Husband’s Language

When they married, Corrianne could not speak to her new husband.

Like most nobility around the continent, she had never studied Pelasian. Even centuries later, the fears birthed by the Speaker Wars lived on. No mage could twist your mind to his will if you couldn't understand the words he needed to do it. (Of course, now Pelasia had grown to power anyway without the use of mind-altering magic, so maybe it had all been for nothing.) And the Emperor, it seemed, had never bothered to learn any language but his own native tongue.

Corrianne studied and practiced until she was able to carry on something of a conversation with him without going through her ladies-in-waiting or his translator. The Emperor could not even say her name right.

But chipping away at the language barrier was not aiding their communication to the level that she had thought it should. True, she did not mind the extent to which he left her to herself - she had encouraged it. No, the Emperor was simply a hard man to understand. So she told herself, and so she held firmly in believing.

She could not have said when she first started noticing a difference.

***

He knocked at the door between their suites late in the evening, when she had retreated to hers from the court but not yet prepared herself for bed. He always knocked - these rooms remained hers, not his. The first few times he’d done this, she’d sent one of her maids to answer instead and give her regrets. When he proved unfailingly polite to them, and did not push past her excuses, she decided this could be allowed and came to the door herself. He never demanded her presence, or even requested - a request from the Emperor was little less than a demand. He merely gave an offer - he had ended his work for the day and would be in his sitting room, and would welcome her company if she wished to join him.

“I usually take this time for some quiet when I can… read for a bit by the fire, have a glass of wine… but if you would like to talk instead -” His eyes flicked to the maid murmuring all his words in Corrianne’s ear. “Perhaps practice your Pelasian?”

He had not offered to practice his Ruveldin, or even Idan, so that time she had refused. But she didn’t really want to spend the rest of her life married to a man that she would not talk to, so the next time she had accepted.

She’d been worried about his intentions that time, though he’d never touched her without her permission. But he really had just sat by the fire with his book and offered her a glass of wine, and did not press her unduly for conversation when she opened her own book. They made a few simple comments to each other on their day, and what they were reading, and spent the rest of the evening in silence together. She wondered how many times he’d had two glasses brought up, hope. She wondered if he’d left a few dregs in each to keep the servants from talking. She felt a little bad, but only a little.

She’d come over many times since then, and it had almost become a little ritual between them. They did not always spend the time reading silently - she truly did wish to practice her Pelasian, and he proved a patient conversation partner.

This time when he knocked, she answered with a smile and stepped through before he even needed to make his offer. She carried a book with her, but did not open it immediately when she sat down, and so he did not reach to pick up his own.   “Thank you for joining me.” Even now that it was a regular occurrence, he thanked her. “I enjoy your company. I have little time to myself, but this has been an improvement on solitude.”

She had not thought the Emperor one to seek out solitude. He demanded the attention of the world. Perhaps she had misunderstood him. She smiled politely and asked him about his day. He was a man of routine; she knew the words he would use to speak about that well enough to follow, better than whatever that declaration had been.

***

They were at dinner, which was rarely a private affair. There were always people at court to entertain. But today was no great feast or party, only a regular meal, and while the Emperor’s attention might as ever be demanded at any time, at present Corriane and her husband were left to converse among themselves as they ate, should they choose to.

They did not always. Corrianne preferred practicing her Pelasian when they were in private, and going through a translator was more clunky than casual dinner conversation with her husband ought to be. And besides, it was dinner, and their main focus was eating.

But today, he chose to strike a conversation up. “Have you heard from your sisters lately?”

She’d received a letter from Everrie just that day. Perhaps he’d had mail come in from Ruveld as well, or seen the messenger bring it in. Or perhaps it was a lucky guess, though that seemed less likely. “I have.”

“And how are they?”

A few times, early on, when the Emperor had asked about her family, she had wondered if he were fishing for information on them, for his schemes or politics. But that had been silly. Surely he had plenty of sources for that without her.

“Both are well. Also my father, and -” She paused. She did not know the proper word for stepmother or half-brother. But he knew that they were her stepmother and half-brother, of course, there was no need to explain it to him. “And his wife, and Alairon.”

“Glad to hear it. Your younger sister’s birthday was coming up, wasn’t it?” He didn’t try to say her name - maybe he’d seen Corrianne wince as he mispronounced hers too many times.

“Yes, they had just celebrated it when Everrie wrote me.”

“She could handle planning for it without you, then?”

Oh. He had remembered, from the last time Everrie wrote. She had told him how Everrie was used to following her lead for social events, how she had been so frantic about taking it on herself, how she had wanted to prove she could step up to the task without leaning too heavily on their stepmother. She hadn’t passed on all of Everrie’s pouring out her heart - she did not think she’d have like the Emperor to hear all of it - but she liked to talk about home, and it was a good subject for her to use in practicing her conversation. And, she realized, her husband had been very attentive in asking her about her sisters. He had been since the first time she brought it up.

“It was as I told her, she -” She hesitated, and finished the sentence in Ruveldin for his interpreter to pass on. “She is more competent than she gives herself credit. She just needed to get her time of worrying out of the way and put her mind to it.”

“Still, they must miss you at home. You light up my court so, I can see it would be hard to lose you.”

She hardly knew how to respond to that, and took a bite so that she would not have to.

***

One of her ladies reported to Corrianne that her husband had had a gift sent to her rooms, so she came to them and found the box set on a table. She opened it to find a delicate golden hair comb, set with many small, deep red gems. Beautiful, and very much to her taste. She wondered if he had picked it out himself.

It was hardly the first gift he had given her. Fine cloth for her dresses, a dark bay riding horse, expensive jewelry, books - ones that he thought she would enjoy, or Pelasian translations of ones she had to help in her study. Some she had written off as no more than what might be expected from the Emperor to his wife. The others had confounded her. What did he mean by them? Was he trying to buy her affections, to keep her and thereby her father’s kingdom sweet? Did he wish to flaunt his wealth and power?

But none of those thoughts came to her now - only a desire to find her husband so she could thank him for it.

She made a few inquiries and was glad to be able to find him alone, going over his correspondence. He looked up, and smiled when he saw her. She’d never noticed before how different that smile looked from the one she saw him wear in public, how his eyes brightened with it. He nodded at the comb she clutched in her hand.

“You like it?”

She nodded. “It is -” It is lovely, she wanted to say, but could not find the right word as she filed through her Pelasian vocabulary. “It is very nice.”

He stood up from his desk and walked over to her. “I thought it would look well with your hair.” His eyes lifted to the honey-gold braids crowning her head as he spoke. He hesitated a moment, and then held out his hand. “May I?”

She passed the comb to him, and he slid it into her hair as though he were one of her maids. Her husband stood back, and looked at her admiringly for the space of several second, before frowning.

“I’m sorry - I don’t have a mirror here for you to look at it -”

She smiled softly. “I am sure you put it in straight. Thank you.”

“I’m happy you like it, Corrianne.” He stumbled over the r, and tried again. “Cor - Corrianne -”

It still was not right, but she smiled anyway. “I understand, Seyetto.” And she set her hands on his shoulders, pushed herself up on her toes, and kissed him.

[forthebetterevil]

my first exo concert!

just gonna detail my experience going to my first exo concert as a 1.5-year-old exol. this is the Singapore 190915 EXplOration concert, missing ksoo (my crown prince) and xiu (my second prince). (p.s. jun is my third prince so that’s why i bought his fan ---- my face when i realised i unknowingly stanned exo’s enlistment line after ksoo dropped the bomb on us: 😊🔫)

and still missing lay, of course (*rolls eyes at china*). it was a blast but i didn’t die too hard, probably because it’s just 6 of them haha. my throat still died from screaming so hard though.

in my rambling i shall cover details of the merch in the picture, and comments (babbling) on each member.

to my great fortune, i was seated in the middle of a middle block facing the stage. i didn’t want to attend the concert in the standing pen area because i prefer observing the group as a whole to being up and close with them but missing out on all the dance formations. i’m here forking over S$302 for a concert where i can’t see ksoo or xiu so... anyway even if they were here i would still prefer to sit and watch the full performance.

the black banner (which i still can’t read) was laid on every seat, and overleaf, exols were asked to hold this banner up during their ending ment. the community is really cute.

the eribong v.3 is pretty when lit up (more later). it came with the bottom right sticker set, and a random photocard. i managed to trade for a ksoo card in the end :-)

the 7th anniversary pink leather keychain is not part of concert merch, but it’s pretty so i threw it into the pic (only for this concert did i break it out of its box to attach it to my bag LOL)

[ksoo]

i got a ksoo ... vertical banner? thin poster? thing after the concert was over, when merchants were desperate to sell their unsold goods. of course there was a ton of baek yeol 5ehun jun and j0ngin merch, but i was surprised i didn’t see as much of dae than i did ksoo. perhaps dae’s merch already sold out?? anyway, i saw ksoo’s marie claire photo and IMMEDIATELY shuffled over to ask for the price, which wasn’t too bad ($5, which became $4 because the merchant didn’t have exact change)

[xiu]

i pasted a xiu name sticker on one side of the eribong, and ksoo on the other. doubles as a “yeah these are my first 2 princes″ and a “at least they’re still with me today in spirit” ... *bursts into tears*

for xiu’s merch, there was NOTHING except maybe a tiny photo of him bunched with other members’ photos. i kept asking “do you have xium1n?” *merchant who usually isn’t a fan is confused* “um... kim minse0k?” *?* “this one, *points to xiu in a group photo*, do you have?” *shows me a j0ngin pic* “ok nvm” this was extremely upsetting. but hey at least i got to see xiu in printed group photos. because...

[lay]

lay didn’t even make an APPEARANCE amongst the goods. rip xingmis. a fellow exol told me someone in the standing pen was waving a ZYX banner around though, so there’s still hope amongst the singaporean xingmis at least

[junmye0n]

i got a fan-produced jun fan before the concert because i didn’t know the venue was air-conditioned haha whoops.

during the concert, his second outfit (after the tempo perf) was a poofy white long-sleeved top and rather well-fitting black trousers/pants and lemme tell you.... HE’S PRINCE ERIC. HE’S SO HANDSOME AND HE’S SO NICE AND SWEET AND HIS ENGLISH WAS SO GOOD, LIKE, EVERYONE IS WHIPPED FOR KSOO’S ENGLISH BUT HONESTLY JUN REALLY TRIED TO COMMUNICATE TO US IN ENGLISH IT WAS AMAZING AND HE PUTS IN SO MUCH EFFORT AND HE SHOULD BE APPRECIATED MORE (and this is coming from a ksoo stan..). you have no idea how upset i was when everyone was screaming their heads off for the other 5 performing members during their little video interludes, but when jun came on screen, there were just screams. heads did not pop off. NO! WHAT IS THIS DISRESPECT AND UNDERAPPRECIATION???!!!! i screamed my head off for him but one person alone can’t make up for the difference... jun was so nice and kept waving and making eye contact with the audience, doing cute poses for us here and there, being his little awkward leader self (as SM boy band leaders seem to do...), and basically tanking the transitions between performances. christ. also he freakin CARRIED the backing vocals AND the main vocals (i mean dae and baek too but everyone already explicitly appreciates them so i don’t need to give them special mention for carrying). he is ALWAYS being slept on, and it’s just not doing him justice. what the hell. junmye0n deserves the world :-(

for his BEEN THROUGH 👀👀👀👀 performance, he told us he decided to change the shirt colour to red because he thought it would match Singapore well (or something along those lines). like. WOW????? THANK YOU FOR EVEN CONSIDERING MY COUNTRY IS WORTH NOTICING TO CHANGE YOUR OUTFIT???? i hope i’m not sounding sarcastic - it’s such a small action but i felt a little touched?? like wow, he noticed.

my binoculars was glued on him half the time. he’s so handsome and pretty at the same time. part of the reason why i still went was to see if everyone’s claims that “suh0’s pictures don’t do him justice” were legitimate because when i first saw jun′s pic (i forgot which exact one), i literally thought, “that’s the handsomest man i’ve ever seen”. so i suppose the claim depends on angles. because ALL of em look like their pictures - their GOOD-ANGLE pictures. MEANING, jun looks as good as his best photos (which tend to be the ones where he faces straight to the front), but now he looks good from whichever angle in motion. he is actually very fair-skinned too! his face was like a beacon of light.

also, in his first ment greeting us, he was such a cheeseball saying our country is beautiful... like us. JUNMYE0N PLEASE.

nearing the end of the concert HE TOLD US NOT TO CRY (along with j0ngin or yeol, can’t remember). THEY’RE GONNA SING THEIR LAST SONG, BUT IT’S NOT GOING TO BE THEIR LAST SONG, BECAUSE THEY’LL ALWAYS BE IN OUR HEARTS, RIGHT? HJAGKN;KLSKGKS :”””””(

so to reiterate: i have the biggest soft spot for junmye0n and i love him.

[5ehun]

OH, DURING ONE SONG, 5EHUN CAME OVER TO RUB HIS HEAD ON JUN’S CHEST, AND I WAS LIKE AAAWWWW!!!!! and died. but jun’s back was facing me so i more or less couldn’t see much. after the concert, i found out that  5EHUN TRIED TO LIFT JUN’S SHIRT TO SHOW HIS ABS DURING THE NUZZLE. so i revived and died again. there were a lot of other small interactions too. seho stans won tonight.

below are some of my friend’s standing pen privilege pics:

what i could see from my seat behind -

what i DIDN’T KNOW 5EHUN TRIED FOR A HOT SECOND:

seho stan: *dies*

anyway... i wasn’t paying close attention to 5ehun during group performances (other than when it was his solo dance break and exo-sc perfs), tho i felt like he wasn’t as “engaged” as, say, jun or yeol. but i thought that was normal because yaknow... he’s not very talkative, and i was probably getting that impression just from his naturally stern (rbf LOL) face. 

his dance break was COOL and his exo-sc performances were LIVELY. and when he actually gets to sing (... T_T) nothing went wrong so i thought everything was fine.

however, during one of his ments, 5ehun admitted to us that he felt bad coz he wasn’t up to standard today (because he’s sick?? translator was not doing a thorough job, i got this info from another friend), and he’s sorry. some of us were like “huh?? no?? GWAENCHANA!!!!” and the translator said he said, “no i’m not saying this just so yall will say that, if you continue i’m not gonna share my feelings like this anymore” so we all shut up.

i can’t remember if it was in that same ment, but during one of the ments, the whole time 5ehun was talking, jun was standing waayyyy in front of the line to turn his body to look at 5ehun. i think he was worried for him :”( 5ehunnie bb please don’t beat yourself up over this. my friend in the standing pen said yeah, he was pretty out of it today, he kept staring into space instead of making eye contact with fans. :-(

[j0ngin]

spEAKING of out of it, the same can be said for j0ngin. don’t get me wrong, his dancing was still otherworldly. i was looking through my binoculars to focus on the dance formation and/or jun, but suddenly i was like “wait, i’ve been looking at ka1 dancing this whole time”. IT’S SO FLUID AND SHARP AT THE SAME TIME. EVERY MOVE IS EXECUTED PERFECTLY. IT JUST DRAWS YOU IN.

... but that can only be said for some stages. i felt like his moves were not as sharp/confident sometimes?? i mean they were still graceful, but somehow it feels kinda tired???????? k who am i to judge, i’m not the one dancing and singing for 2 hours straight lmao he obviously needs downtime...

THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT. unfortunately, during the ments, he also wasn’t very hyper (like hE WOULD BE WITH A CERTAIN SOMEONE.............. UGH MY KADI HEART IS ACHING). he dance-bopped around and interacted with yeol a little but that’s all. i know j0ngin is actually a shy boi but he REALLY didn’t talk much. :-(  i honestly suspect the Other Project (s*perM) is tiring him tf out.

am i hallucinating? or maybe i’m being overdramatic. i don’t know. it’s not that i was constantly following his movements like i was junmye0n’s during the concert anyway.

[baek]

he didn’t SEEM as tired as j0ngin thanks to that Other Project. his diet of CDs didn’t change, and he was still the goofball during ments / soft toy fun times. also, man, the amount of screams he got. and MAN, THE UN VILLAGE ROLLING HILLS PART..................... *GURGLES*

perhaps i’m not a baek stan, so i didn’t realise, but my friend commented that while he was not in as bad a state as j0ngin, he COULD’VE been more hyper.

I HOPE BAEK AND J0NGIN ARE RESTING WELL. Slave Management Entertainment PLEASE HAVE A HEART.

[yeol]

okay DUDES this guy was the guy who warned the middle standing pen fans to stop f*cking pushing because they don’t want to get anyone hurt. “ok everyone in the back row (of the standing pen) please raise your hands. can those who raise your hands take one step back please” ... “ok yall raising your hands but you’re not moving back” ... (him/suh0) “we have to be very wary because if you get hurt then we can’t come back”  the entire stadium collectively went “oOOOHHHH” (not in a good way)... BUT THEY STILL DIDN’T MOVE BACK. (him/suh0) “okay you don’t want to move back? then we’ll retreat to the stage behind then” *walks from from the smaller stage closer to exols back to the larger stage all the way at the front*

he was legit not happy. and goodness gracious did he have the right to be. didn’t this nonsense happen with exo-sc kfans before? and at that time 5ehun was the one who got angry.

anyway not only did they leave to continue performing the second set of songs on a bad note FURTHER AWAY, i HIGHLY SUSPECT that the other punishment was to take away one performance. WHICH WAS MY MOST HIGHLY ANTICIPATED ONE - SIGN. YEAH. THEY DIDN’T PERFORM IT. SHOOT ME NOW. THAT WAS THE B-SIDE I WAS IMMEDIATELY WHIPPED FOR ONCE THE TEMPO ALBUM DROPPED. f*ck.

OKAY ALL THAT ANGST ASIDE, he’s still the main goofball of the concert. HE TRIED TO TEACH US HOW TO DAB INTO THE INSIDE OF OUR ELBOWS. HE GROPED CHEN ON STAGE. HE... he does his job of an entertainer well. OMG. HE TOOK SOMEONE’S PHONE AND TOOK PICS/VIDS OF HIM AND SEHUN????? when i finally noticed it happening i thought he literally took his own phone out during performance/fan-interaction-time to take a selfie but then i find out after the concert that NO, IT’S NOT HIS PHONE. ... that phone case must be enshrined immediately.

also he had to take over some lines for some songs, and BOI DELIVERED. he sounded really nice singing :”)

[dae]

not only did he eat CDs while looking super cute in that blue suit, he BELTED OUT LIVE HIGH NOTES AND ADLIBS AND WHATEVER YOU CALL THEM. I’VE NEVER HEARD EXO LIVE, SO, OH MY GOD. it’s like you’re either screeching or silent because they’re performing but there were parts of dae’s performance where had to stop everything, put down my binoculars and eribong, stare into the air for a second, and literally say “wow” out loud. it was surreal. it was crazy. it got to the point where he covered one of xiu’s lines (i forgot which song), and i thought “oh wow, he sounds better singing this line than xiu” and i IMMEDIATELY felt guilty (I ONLY THOUGHT THIS FOR *ONE* OF XIU’S LINES, DON’T KILL ME)

he was quiet during the ment until his turn. when he was engaged he... engaged. haha about the members’ comments that his solo perf was a “different kind of sexy” from j0ngin, where he had only one drop of sweat. HAHA. *does lunges on stage* *gets molested by yeol*

dae’s actually really low-key. he’s like... a “good” boi. will respond well and politely but only when spoken to. what else do i say. sunshine angel. his smile is cute. CAT SMILE :3

[overall]

speaking of cats... baek asked us at the beginning of the concert: why’s the dress code white?

here’s a crappy pic from my android phone one minute before the lights were dimmed:

us: POWER!!! POWER!!!

exo: oh?? baek: does it represent the light power??

us: (loud murmurs of disagreement)

exo/baek: so you’re saying that’s not it... (discusses with members in korean) is it... the white marble???

us: (louder murmurs of disagreement)

exo/baek: hm i guess we can continue guessing till the concert is over haha

im not sure if anyone in the front rows, perhaps a korean fansite, screamed “cat” in korean, but after some discussion again,

exo/baek: (korean) some exols: *SCREAMS* translator: is it cat? exol: *SCREAMS AND WAVES ERIBONGS*

and this was the only legit interaction i feel we got with exo this concert... after having a taste of it at the start, i was subsequently kinda bummed we didn’t get to do this back-and-forth talking with exo (even at a shallow level) likely because of a language barrier. it felt so cool.

also, eribong v.3 was SUPER PRETTY WITH COLOURS. IT WAS MAGICAL, I SAY, MAGICAL.

the entire spectrum could be shown on this eribong. this pic more or less covers the softer range of colours this eribong is capable of. it can also show the harsh red, blue, green, yellow, and of course, white.

a 1-pixel screenshot of my Telegram video to my friend in the standing pen:

the boys were great, the performance was overall astounding, the lights and effects were stunning and pretty, and the time we spent together was too! short! exo also mentioned it’s a shame they could only come this one day for a concert, next time they’ll do two, no, THREE days... for their next album

exols: ganrklflm;fsklflkgsrkg

... WITH “THE REST OF THE MEMBERS”

exols: NAGJSK;NLDFNLGRS *EXPLODES*

tl;dr i love EXO with my entire heart. i count myself lucky for being alive at the same time exo is active and performing live.

[likeadrug-ff]

F O U R

L O N D Y N 

After Loryns grand opening we waited for her to come back so we could go out and celebrate but this hoe never came home. So the girls and I went to bed while mama went back to work. Kaiden ended up sleeping over but left early to check on his brother. 

---

All this week I had my head in the books studying for my exams. It was definitely crunch time. I had just got done taking my exams and I felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. I had a good feeling about my results so I called the girls after I got in the car. I leaned the seat back and got comfortable while waiting. 

“Waddup bitch?” I could tell that was Leilani stupid ass. Laughing at her I said, “what yall doing tonight?” 

“Wait. Can we make this a group face time?” I huffed and pulled the phone away from my ear. I clicked the face time option and seconds later their faces popped up. “Yall hoes aint doin shit.” I mumbled looking at them. 

“Girl I just left the shop. Im relaxing so shut up.” Loryn replied. “Speaking of the shop, where you disappear to last week?” Waiting for her reply, she looked away smiling hard, im talking dimples hard. “Must've been with Ace huh? I seen him sneaking in.” Leilani blurted out. 

“Girl,” Loryn smacked her teeth, “he came in there talking bout he had a gift for me in the car. I know yall seen me leaving with him. Anyway, we get in the car and this nigga hands me a duffel full of stacks.” My jaw dropped. “This bitch didnt say a stack. Her ass said full of stacks!” Lolani beat me to it. “Girl get out of my head!” I teased. 

“This the good part here, he also got me this Pandora bracelet,” she lifted her arm to show us, “and a Cuban link chain. Then gon’ come out his mouth and say, dont get fucked up out here. Remember who ya man is.” We all screamed and gassed it up. “Oh shiiiiit sus! My sista got a man, my sista got a man!” The girls and I sung. The only thing Loryn could muster up was, “I guess so.” 

After we all calmed down I repeated my question from earlier. They replied with basically saying nothing. “I just got done taking my exams, and I dont feel like going to work at that bargain store.” Leilani smacked her teeth. “They gon’ fire you yo.” I shrugged. “And I wont give a fuck. Anywho, lets go out tonight? Drinks on me cause I know I aced that shit!” 

“Free drinks? Hell to da yeah!” Lolani snapped her fingers and started dancing. In high school I had this friend that made fake IDs. I asked him to make some for us and he did it with no problem. It had our pictures on it but he just changed the birthday. “Thats what Im talking bout. Well Im on my way home so get shit popping.” I hung up on them and cranked my baby up. 

When I made it home and inside, the girls had Dreezy playing throughout the house. Mama was still at work of course. I went to my room and hopped in the shower before running the flat iron through my hair. “Let me use your foundation.” Loryn came in the bathroom looking through my cabinets. “Im almost running out now.” Shes been using my shit more than me. “I’ll get you some more.” She replied and walked out with the foundation in her hand.

“Are you ladies ready?” I glanced at the clock and seen it was hitting eight thirty. I had enough time to do my hair, a nice beat and get fly as fuck. I picked up my shoes and everything else I needed before turning the light out and heading in the living room. All my sisters looked good. Right when we were about to walk out mama walked in.

“And where in the hell are yall going?” She examined our outfits and shook her head. “Where the rest of yall clothes at?” I leaned all of my weight on one leg and sighed. “Ma c’mon now.” She kissed our foreheads and said, “please be safe and look out for each other.”

“Oh yeah, can we drive the Rubicon?” Loryn was fidgeting with her hands. Mama cocked her head to the side. “And who will be driving?” They snapped their heads in my direction saying, “Londyn.” She took the keys off the wall and held them to me. “Dont wreck it!” She yelled as we rushed out the house in excitement.  

Stepping inside of the club, I drug them to the bar and ordered shots of Hennessy. “Lets get fucked up!” I asked the bartender for another round of shots and after downed them, we went to the dance floor. “Girl dont look now, but I think I see Kaiden.” My head snapped in the direction Loryn was looking in so fast. Now why would this bitch even tell me not to look?

Kaiden and I made eye contact and he gave me a good overlook. When he noticed how I was dressing he got up from the table, whispered something in his brothers ear, who I just noticed was here, and made his way to me. “Wassup ladies?” He greeted my sisters. “You single now or sumn?” I was beyond confused. 

“I mean you dressed like you aint got no man so you must be.” I didnt see anything wrong with my outfit. I thought I looked good as fuck. “Fuck wrong witchu Londyn?” I jerked my head back. “Hey to you too, yeah my exams went well today.” I fired off sarcastically. His face softened. “Damn I forgot you had to take ya exams this week.” This nigga here. 

“I already know ya smart ass passed that shit so congrats princess.” He lent down pressed his lips to mines. His hands made their way to my ass. “Lets go to the bathroom real quick.” I pushed him back a little and shook my head. “Pause. What are you doing here anyway?” I placed my hands on my hips only for Kaiden to slap them down. 

“Working.” He responded nonchalantly shrugging. “With your brother here?” I could already see him catching an attitude. “We goin’ to the bathroom or what?” I rolled my eyes. “No nigga. Buy me a drink.” He pulled his pants up a little and grabbed onto my hips. Walking back to the bar I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Lolani and Karter was looking mighty comfortable, enjoying each others company and shit. 

“You tryna be a love doctor I see.” I slid into the small space between him and the bar. I looked up at him as he ordered two Hennessy straights. “Whatchu talkin’ bout?” I gave him my best nigga please face. “Your brother and Lolani?” 

Kaiden searched around for them then suddenly stopped. “Girl mind yo business. And for two, I aint even know yall was gon’ be here.” My sister is my business. “That girl is grown believe it or not,” he handed me my drink and I gladly took a sip, “she gon’ do what she wanna do regardless. She probably aint even gon’ give his ass a chance.” 

“Why you think that?” He opened his mouth but closed it back shrugging. “Just a guess.” Mhm, you think you slick nigga. Ima just leave it alone until shes ready to tell me about Karter. Downing the rest of our drinks Kaiden wrapped his arms around my waist, swaying our bodies to the music. “I've been missing you like crazy.” He left trails of soft kisses on my neck. “Shit. I cant tell.” I fussed. “I haven't seen you this whole week.”

I poked my bottom lip out. I was really missing my man and only wanted to be under him while studying. “My fault baby. Ive been busy wit work and everythang. Niggas short on money nshit like that.” He sighed looking down at me. I applaud Kaiden for being about his money, I just wished he went about it another way. “You got all my attention.” We were in our own little world. Not giving a damn who seen us slobbering each other down at the bar. 

L E I L A N I 

Seems like I was the only bitch single out here and the dj had some nerve. Playing slow jams all night. Loryn, who was holding the keys in her purse, handed them over to me about an hour ago. This hoe was ditching us again for Ace. Said he had “plans” for them. Lolani and Londyn were in their own little worlds so I made me way outside and to the jeep. 

“Where you been hiding at lil mama?” I knew that voice like the back of my hand. “I been here, just staying lowkey.” I could feel him burning a whole through the back of my head. “Oh yeeeeah, staying lowkey after you killed my child huh?” In a swift second I was facing him. 

“Dont,” I held my hand up. “we would've ruined that kid and you know it. You was running around fucking mad hoes.” Jamal took a step towards me and I held my breath. “You aint so innocent LeiLei.” I loved when he called me that. “I never crossed you! Anything I did, was done after you. I know you think I was wrong for killing the baby but I did what was best for us.” I refused to cry. I did enough crying after I aborted my child. 

That was something I had to do on my own; without my sisters. Without their comfort. My family was against abortion but I couldn't bring that child into this world knowing I couldn't raise it. “Are you happy without me?” Truth be told I couldn't answer that. “Ive changed LeiLei. And I know Ive said that many time but I mean it this time. Let me show you.” Jamal was never the type to beg. 

I met him in middle school and from then we had this love hate relationship. But when it came time for high school we hooked up, and boy we were fucking like rabbits. Everyone thought we were dating so played along not knowing that it would end up serious. The same day I found out about being pregnant was the same day his fuck buddy came to me. Also the same day Jamal got arrested, for damn near killing her. 

She wanted to be bold and let him know what she had done, and that was the reaction he gave her in return. “Lei?” He now had his hands on my waist. I missed his touch. I quickly backed up and handed him my phone. “Put your number in and I’ll hit you up. I gotta smoke on this shit.” Without hesitation he put his number in.

When I got my phone back I proceeded on my way. My leg felt like jelly and I was too geeked when I found the truck. I got in the backseat and immediately went for the weed and woods. I cant believe this nigga just popped his ass up on me. How? Why? After all this time you decided to just show up? Now? He just gotta be shitting me man.

It only took me five minuted to roll up and I sparked it with quickness after I was done. I sat in nothing but silence and a cloud full of smoke. Mama would kill me if she knew about me smoking in here but shit, oh well.

Lolani almost made me shit bricks when she knocked on the window. I unlocked the door and opened it. “Why you just aint use ya phone stupid?” I scolded. She shrug ans slid in beside me. “Why you aint getting lit?” I lifted the wood. “I am.” After snatching it from me she questioned,”I mean in there Lei.” She bent down to unzip her heels.

“Yall bitches left me and went after some dick. Loryn is with Ace, Londyn in there swallowing Kaiden tongue and you,” I looked over at her “well shit you here now.” She hit the wood a couple of times before passing it back to me. “Karter wont really bout shit ya know? It was like a one way conversation if you asked me.” 

“You could've fooled me.” Smoke got caught in my throat and coughed hard as hell. “You sound like a man.” “Fuck you. But anyways you do know thats gonna be your brother in law?” I took another hit and passed it to her. “Kaiden and Londyn really fucking with each other. So I think you should just let that go sus.” I only wanted the best for my twin. 

“Omari has a baby on the way.” “I just seen Jamal.” We blurted at the same time. Lolani quickly put the wood out and turned her body towards me. “Where has he been?” “Your guess is as good as mine. He just popped the fuck up. Scared a bitch too.” Be both shared a laugh. “Nah but listen, he went to jail for beating up a bitch he was cheating with and now he says that he changed. I missed him. A lot.”

I felt like venting so thats what I did. “It was like, during our relationship my whole world revolved around him. I did everything I could for him and it still wasn't enough. He just had to dip into something new.” I picked at my nails. “I ended up getting pregnant but aborted it.” A single tear fell from my eye. “Lei,” 

“I never wanted to do it Lolani. I swear! I still think about how fucked up I was for killing an innocent child, but..” Lolani slid close to me and hugged me tight. “Who am I to judge Lei? Im your sister and Im far from innocent.” She kissed my forehead and sighed. “Fuck Jamal. You dont need him. Shit we dont need these niggas girl. You can always find someone better who will literally worship the ground you walk on. Trust me, I know.” 

She continued comforting me until our phones chimed. It was Londyn letting us know that she was going on home with Kaiden. “Andrews?” Without saying a word we both jumped in the front. Might as well eat before we head home. “You better air this shit out.” Lolani reminded me. 

[gayasinstupidpodcast]

What’s up gamers!!! Our fourth episode plowed through the chaos of thanksgiving holidays and is Here w/ some Facts and Opinions about creating shit and being LGBT and how being LGBT influences creating shit. HEADS UP we recorded this while I had a cold so my voice is probably a little off, but ik Isaac put SO much work into the editing so it would be ready on time and we have recorded statements from some amazing artists (transcriptions under the cut below!) & this is honestly one of my favorite episodes we’ve done so far, so give her a listen if you’re gay or enjoy fun things!

BIG thank you once again to everyone who participated in this month’s episode!! Your contributions are so valued and so beautiful!!

You can find us on the Itunes Podcast App/Webpage at Gay As In Stupid Podcast! You can also find our episodes uploaded to Youtube and Soundcloud!

You can also follow us on twitter at gayasinstupid!

Further Reading on LGBT Artists

Montage of a Queering Deferred: Memory, Ownership, and Archival Silencing in the Rhetorical Biography of Langston Hughes

The Political Provocations of Keith Haring 

Pop art politics: Activism of Keith Haring 

E M Forster’s Gay Fiction

Alok Vaid-Menon Tells Us What It’s Like To Be Femme In Public

Shea Diamond Speaks Her Truth

Aaron’s 2018 November Recs!

Alok Alok Vaid-Menon is one of my favorite poet/activist/performance artists out there! Their writing and stage presence is gorgeous and witty in a way that’s SO clever and still feels like you’re in a room trading jokes you don’t need to explain with your closest trans friends. The way they balance their art creates a real, deeply touching experience that feels very essential to our world.

Miles (2016) Miles is set in 1999 and is a coming of age story about a gay teenager trying to get a volleyball scholarship for college in Chicago. It’s not revolutionary and it’s not over the top dramatic, but it’s funny and honest and it makes me feel nice. Definitely the movie to watch when you’ve just been through something emotionally taxing and need a light crying session and some mediocre pastries.

Isaac’s 2018 November Recs!

The Adventure Zone I know half of you already kin the Mcelroys while the other half either don’t know or don’t care, but the Adventure Zone is one of my most favorite things in the world. It’s a DND podcast (yes, all episodes are transcribed, and they have a graphic novel for the first arc of Balance with a second one on the way!) by three brothers plus their dad, and not only does it have the most amazing story and is ungodly funny, but TONS of gays (Griffin went ape with those Lesbian NPCS)! And just because they can! Same with trans characters. It’s a story where they just exist, and that’s really important to me because in a lot of media LGBT have to almost prove why they deserve to take up space. And it’s not just something that goes on in their first campaign, Amnesty also has those sweet sweet gay! I could talk about this podcast for hours, so if you needed that final push to give it a listen, THIS IS IT!

Stardew Valley You get to farm and be gay. And if THAT hasn’t sold you on this charming video game, then maybe the super cute graphics, beautiful soundtrack and a handful of interesting characters will! TBH I spend so much time playing this game it’s concerning. It’s just such a fun way to relax, and I just really REALLY like video games were I can chose to be gay. Like. God Tier. YOU CAN HAVE CROPS AND CHICKENS AND BE GAY C’MON YALL!!

The Amazing Quotes And Artists Featured!

Meg | instagram | esty

“My identity as a bisexual woman influences my art in many ways. As a woman, i create art about the issues that effect me, such as abortion and gender equality, in order to resonate with the people that matter most to me. As a bisexual individual, my subjects often appear from a gaze that falls outside of the stereotypical eye. My figure drawings and portraits all come from a place of admiration, and don’t fall into the stereotype of the male gaze or womanly care- they are the space inbetween, equally sexualized and normalized. I feel lucky to be a bi gal in the art world because it is a place that is my own to create in. There are so many queer artists that i look up to such as Mapplethorpe and Warhol, and many female artists i can cite as influence (Jenny Holzer, Kiki Smith, and Louise Bourgeois to name a few). My identity gives me a whole new world of content to draw from and allows my work to resonate with a wider audience, and I really think that any artists goal is to reach and touch as many people as possible.“  

Cameron | twitter | instagram 

“I don’t think that it influences the form really, but it definitely influences the subject matter! (Much as I hate to admit it, my identity influences the majority of choices I make in life.) I write a lot of poems about lgbtq related things and religion, as well as other stuff too. I was raised catholic, so realizing that I was “different” at more than one point in my teen years was scary AF. Being a member of the lgbtq+ community and also trying to still feel like I belong, or wanting to, in a religious community is hard, the two things are usually at a crossroads in my life so writing about them makes it easier for me to get through. My hope is that someday someone reads what I wrote and finds some peace in their own life/experience.” 

Vince | art instagram

“Well, being transgender I feel like I’m constantly aware of the lack of representation of my community, and I feel like it might be because of that I tend to experiment with showing all sorts of different type of people in my work. Because there’s so much diversity in the world, why not showcase that?”

Fox | art instagram  

“Oof…I’m gay so my characters always be gay. Gotta Fill the void in media w my own bullshit so I don’t have to rely on straight showrunners who will inevitably discard the character since they themselves seem to have no personal attachment and treat lgbt characters as disposable extras. Bc if I don’t at least attempt to create representation in the field I’m going into then I can’t rlly complain about the lack of it right? If I don’t try and change it I can’t complain about the lack of change so being an lgbt artist is lowkey Big Pressure to be revolutionary in your work but sometime…..I just wanna draw funkey animeal and that’s aight too”

Jen | twitter | instagram

“As a female bisexual poet, I worry often that my poetry and art will be too niche to be appreciated. I’ve spent years editing my poetry down to its barest bones in hopes that someone will relate to it. Changing pronouns back and forth because I worry that if I do talk about a woman, the poem will be stripped of its context and suddenly be about my queerness when in reality it never was. When I write about love and people I have dated and have crushed on, I want the poem to exist outside of the gender of who I love. I fear my authorial death will result in a complete misinterpretation of what I mean. When I write, it truly does not matter to me if I am writing about a woman or a man. If I feel what I write and I can make someone else feel it too does it matter that I also love women? I write what matters to me overall, regardless of gender, I try to make my poetry as true as possible. Sometimes, when I catch myself over editing I try to take myself back to the moment, to the person, what I loved about him or her. “

Lain | art instagram

“My LGBT Identity has significantly impacted almost all of my art, especially my work over the last two years. Ever since I have allowed myself to accept that I am trans and began my transition (6 months on T!), the impact that my Roman Catholic upbringing has had on my bisexual trans identity has bled into my artwork. Because of the way I was raised, accepting and allowing myself to be authentic has been an upward struggle. And what better way to process and document struggle than art?  

Much of my recent work has had a focus on the trans body, particularly the “sanctity” of self-actualization and the god-like power that comes with accepting and creating yourself in the unique and exceptional way that LGBT people must in order to live authentically. Two of my pieces on this topic were actually recently exhibited at UWM in the Trans-lucent exhibition, and will remain there until December 15th (I think). I got sick and tired of never seeing trans representation, so now I am creating that space that I crave in my own work.”

Kobe | instagram | soundcloud

“My art from is very influenced by my LGBT identity. It is very influenced by my LGBT black Identity. I think that whenever an artist makes their art (in my case writing music, singing, dancing) they should incorporate as much of themselves as possible. I think my LGBT identity definitely adds a sense of representation as well. I want people like me to listen to my music to know they aren’t alone. So it influences my work a lot. “

Nat | art instagram

“I think the fact that I am part of the LGBT+ community influences my art directly. Even though I don’t draw as often as I wish, I believe both my drawings and college projects (I am a 3d art/animation student), and my creativity in general is inspired by my personal experiences as a gay woman and common things experienced by the community. I try as often as I can to bring representation of some kind in the things I do, mainly personal projects. I also feel that it influences me on my motivation to keep creating; whenever I listen to, see drawings, watch movies or see whatever form of artistic expression from LGBT+ artists it gives me the energy to keep going, to keep creating.”

[michaelmalloryfanfic-blog]

fic update: o thou, destroyer named - chapter vi

they are like two wounded animals, circling one another, waiting to see who will strike first

. millory outpost 3 au .

post links: chapter i // chapter ii // chapter iii // chapter iv // chapter v // chapter iv // chapter vii // chapter viii // chapter ix //

ao3 links: chapter i // chapter ii // chapter iii // chapter iv // chapter v // chapter vi // chapter vii // chapter viii // chapter ix //

summary: aka part 2 of chapter 5 we're finally leaving Outpost 3 yall!

Mead hears the girl screeching about needing help but doesn't heed her call at first. Her boy had not been overly transparent about his plans for the girl but it might as well be excruciating torture. But the girl keeps screaming. She keeps pleading for help and, if only to offer assistance to Michael, Mead seeks her out. The darkness is nothing to Mead. The outpost layout programmed into her head makes find the girl easy.

It takes her almost no time to find the right door. Behind it she can still hear the girl, no longer screaming. She's whimpering and begging for help. Mead sneers and weighs her options. There’s no sound from Michael, just the girl, whining for all she’s worth. Does some weeping idiot really warrant her risking

"Please,” the girl says from the other side. “We need help."

We. Now that does warrant further investigation. She enters. Mead is no stranger to blood, to viscera. So the sight she sees when she opens the door is about as shocking as a clear sky in summer. The room is dim. She spots them down the barrel of the antechamber, ensanguined and tangled together.

Michael’s head and shoulders are resting in her lap. He’s curled into her, arms clasped around her waist. Mallory has folded herself over him, his face cradled in her arms. A tender scene had it not been completed covered in blood and the look of absolute terror on the girl’s face when she looks up at Mead.

“Oh fuck,” Mallory breathes. “Thank fucking god. Please help, he’s crushing me.”

"What have you done?" Mead hisses.

She has murder on her mind and a violent intent driving her as she approaches. A piles of black clothing sits discarded besides them, all ruined. She observes the situation before deciding the best thing to do is take care of Langdon before anything else. She would deal with the twit once her boy was secure.

"I didn't do anything,” she asserts fiercely which is rich coming from someone pinned beneath a fully grown man and covered in blood. “He isn’t dead but he's lost a lot of blood. He needs medical attention."

The girl continues to prattle. Mead had known of Mallory Wilson, just another Grey sucking on the teat of the Cooperative’s generosity. Before her great epiphany of who and what she really was, Mead had reserved all the malice and disgust she could muster for the Greys. They were pathetic, skittering things who no better than the dust that accumulates in the corner. Now that she’s fully realized, Mead finds the concept of the Greys just plain wasteful. They were more trouble than they were worth.

“Oh will you shut up,” Mead snaps and the girl is mute. “Blood loss didn’t do this.”

No, it would take more than a little bit of anemia to lay her boy low like this but magic is a rubber-band of intent. Pull too hard, aim it in the wrong direction so that it cannot follow through and it will snap back. Intent needs a place to go and if not the intended target then it will find some place else to lodge itself like a knife lodges itself into flesh, usually its source.

Mead is careful when she reaches her arms beneath Michael’s shoulders and behind his knees. It is nearly comical, the idea of this little old woman sweeping a fully grown man like Michael Langdon into her arms but that is exactly what she does. It takes some cajoling. He is stuck to the girl, arms locked around her middle but with a few tugging and deft maneuvering, she gets him up to his feet. He swoons and sways a first, leaning into her shoulder. His breath on her neck is shallow. As Mead steadies Michael, Mallory tries to stand but has trouble. The feeling is only just returning to her legs, uncanny pinpricks of feeling all down her skin. Eventually, she gets to her knees.

“Is he - will he...be alright?” she asks as she brings one leg forward, leans her weight on it and pushes herself up.

Mead glares at the girl as she wobbles on her feet. Mallory is winded and messy. In Mead’s eyes, she’s a loose end, a liability. It would make far more sense to end her now

"Just get the hell out of here!” Mead barks and Mallory is more than willing to fuck off.

She would have too, unsteady legs and all if not for dissent from Michael.

“Don't go, Mallory,” he keened; his head is still bent below his shoulders but his voice is clear when he pleads. “Don't go."

Later, Michael will deny this and neither Mead or Mallory will disagree with him despite knowing contrary. For her part, Mallory never forgets. She will always remember, his golden head bent low and his voice trembling like a leaf. At the end, she remembers always how sad she feels for him in this moment.

“Fine,” Mead says because even as a cold, unfeeling automaton, she cannot help but indulge the boy. “Get his other side and help me move him.”

“And get his clothes off the floor,” she adds as she turns to escort Michael out.

Mallory scrambles, her feet slipping over the mess on the floor. His jacket and shirt are stiff, saturated as they are with dried blood. Making an effort to be gentle, she folds each article over her arm and rushes out to take

His head lolls to the side and finds the side of her neck. He breathes something into her skin but even as close as they are she cannot make out what it is that he says. Still, she shivers. The warmth of his breath, the moisture of it causes her breath to catch in her throat. Her heart beats so loudly she thinks he must be able to hear it.

And he does. He hangs on to the sound of her heartbeat in his state like a life raft.

Suddenly, Michael’s world sits on a horizontal axis. He feels but does not comprehend where he is in space. He knows not the time. He hears but cannot see.

“I don't - understand , Ms. Mead. Any of it,” Mallory says, her voice shaking but clear.

Michael wonders if she’s crying. He had felt her tears on his face when she had held him like a babe.

“You don’t need to understand. Accept that there are things beyond your understanding and move on,” Mead says.

Her voice is low and severe and Michael can hear the mechanism of her voice. A slight hum runs under the sound of her voice like a hornet is lodged in her chest. The air feels so full. Full of the sound of the hornet in Mead’s chest. Full of his own magic, his own intent shooting back at him with a force that would have killed anyone else. It presses down on him, squeezes until he is slipping back into himself. He hates that panic rises in him as he goes down. He hates that he parts his lips and whimpers. Most of all he hates that he seeks out something to hold on to, reaches for anyone, anything.

Her hand is in his, fingers interlocked. Did he find her or did she meet him halfway? He tumbles back under, falling into himself. The pressure of her hand in his is all he feels before oblivion.

Michael wakes to her face, pale as a ghost, above him. She looks a mess, staring blankly into nothing. All his hard work to boost her vitality seems to have been for nothing. Her eyes are shadowed. Her hair, still in that ridiculous bun, is tousled and dull. He can feel her, winding round and round within her mind. Always running away from him in there. Her bottom lip is caught in her teeth, she worries the soft flesh. In her stocking, he notices a long run that extends almost the entire length of her left leg. Michael reaches out to finger the shock of her pale skin beneath the charcoal grey of her tights. She jumps at his touch.

“Keeping vigil at my bedside, Mallory darling?” he croaks.

When she stands and makes for the door, he snatches her right hand in a crushing grip. Pain twists her face and she instinctively tries to pull her hand back. He squeezes harder.

“What? Worried about your ticket to the Sanctuary?” he goads.

Michael Langdon is decidedly easier to manage when he’s unconscious. He had been a thing of beauty even in his fragile state, perhaps even more so because of his fragility just seconds before. He is still bloody, dark circles shadowing his under eyes but there is beauty in that too. She and Mead had brought him back to what must have been his room. Mallory takes note of the laptop that sits on his desk, how it still hums and every so often the fan whirs.

“What? No, I have to get Mea-”

She pulls back again. She squirms as he presses into her mind trying to find any soft spot to poke at. She pushes back but that only serves to stoke his cruelty. He presses down harder, feels her mind bow just a little under the pressure. Mallory gasps, her free hand shooting up to her temple.

“Fuck,” she breathes, her palm presses into the skin of her temple, eyes are squeezed shut.

It’s your own fault; you keep trying to run from me, he thinks.

“You should be worried,” he snarls. “If I die, so do you.”

Again, she tugs at their hands but this time with less conviction.

“I don't - “ she begins with her eyes still locked on the door.

He squeezes his hand again and she winces in pain but that does the trick. She turns her attention to him. Getting a better look at her now, Michael realizes that despite her outward appearance, this the most sober and clear-minded she’s been since she died. Her eyes, though shadowed, are clear and her gaze straight-forward. She’s still confused but no longer delicate.

“I don’t care about the Sanctuary. I don’t even think it exists,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes but then she pauses and frowns. “I didn’t believe you when you said you came here to help us. I thought it was bullshit the whole time.”

She holds his gaze and he expects tears, for her to break down again, or at least for her to look away but her eyes remain dry and her gaze never wavers.

“Then tell me, Mallory. What do you believe?”

“I don’t believe in anything anymore,” she whispers.

“Mallory,” he chides. “Don’t lie to me. You can lie to the world, lie to god, lie even to yourself but never to me. Tell me . And be honest this time.”

“I was being honest.”

“Then be more honest.”

She licks her lips and Michael can't help watching the slow, careful movement of her mouth. What belief does she have? She never believed in god. Faith and spirituality had always seemed so superfluous. She has no job and even her status as a Grey that had at least provided her with some semblance of purpose was gone. So what does she have left to hang on to. Not even Death remains. She shivers thinking of that pitch black place. Her memory of it stark now that she isn't puking her guts out. It had been utter emptiness, darkness stretching in every direction for eternity but at least it had been an end. He has taken even that from her.

“I believe...that everything has gone to shit. It's a wasteland up there but it was a wasteland down here too. And now...now it isn't even that. It’s just nothing. And even if the Sanctuary exists, even if it's full of food and people and light, I know that deep down it’s a wasteland too.”

She’s leaning forward, her forearms resting on her knees, hand hanging limply from her wrists. Her shoulders sag and lowers her face to her forearms.

He takes her hand in his again but this time he is tender like when he had placed it in the crook of his arm before. He laces their fingers together and pulls her closer. Mallory complies, leaning into him with another sigh. She sighs so much his sad, doe-eyed doll. With his free hand, he wraps his fingers around her neck. His thumb presses lightly where her pulse thrums beneath the skin. This time he moves his hands downward. The skin stretched tightly over her collarbones, the dip of her clavicle. Down the center of her, his hand slips to her sternum. He thinks of the thing just below.

“I like it when you're honest. It makes it easier to see that empty heart of yours”

She flinches back at the mention of her flaw. Didn't he already warn her? Did she think he wouldn't notice? Death had not taken anything from her but rather had made it apparent that there had been something missing all along, his broken little machine.

“Oh don’t look so ashamed,” he says and releases her hand. “It’s one of your best qualities.”

Michael feels suddenly rejuvenated. The air around him no longer presses him into his bed. He rises to lean back onto his elbow. The scratchy wool blanket that had previously covered his torso slips down to his waist. He notices that he too is blackened by dried blood. The door creaks open and Mead stands in the doorway.

“The Sanctuary exists,” he mumbles offhandedly. “You'll see it when we get there.”

Mead hears their conversation from down the hall. Even when they whisper, she can hear them. Before the realization that she was not human, Mead had simply attributed her excellent hearing to a combination of a high aptitude for attention and a natural ability. It is amazing how much you miss when you’re busy adhering to a false standard. In her mind, the mind the Cooperative had programmed for her, she could have only ever been human but now her programing demands that she adapt to the new information.

“It’s one of your best qualities,” Michael says from inside his room.

Mead stands outside and from here she can monitor his vitals. He’s managed to bounce back in a matter of hours what would have taken even the most powerful witches and warlocks weeks or even months. This information, which she had not even conceived of just hours before, is so readily available to her now. Anyone else would possibly be destroyed by the realizations that Mead has been faced with over the last 24 hours. Most would probably choose to look away rather than see what she has but Mead has no choice. She must always look forward.

She enters the room and finds them in a staring contest of sorts. From the smug smile on Michael’s face, she can tell he has the upper hand. His eyes flick to her but only for a second before dropping back to the girl.

“The Sanctuary exists,” he says, gaze trained on Mallory. “You’ll see it when we get there.”

He waves Mallory off and lowers himself onto the bed. His eyes slip closed and he folds his hands just below his chest. He would looks like the perfect embodiment of peace and relaxation, if not for the blood in his hair. Mallory rises from her seat, a look of confusion muddling her features. Even the sight of Mead, suddenly in the doorway and wear a look of utter distaste, cannot shake the girl from her bewilderment.

“Dirty again,” Mead clicks her tongue. “Go. Make yourself presentable.”

She nods and begins to leave but pauses to glance back at Michael. She’s still confused but there’s something else in Mallory’s gaze that Mead cannot identify. But the moment ends soon enough and the girl is gone into the darkness.

“These sheets are ruined,” Michael mumbles, eye still closed, hands still folded.

Mead approaches with a slow, measured steps.

“I’ll deal with them once you’re clean.”

He nods and rises to sit, swinging his legs over the side. The effort breaks the placidity of his features. Though he is all but fully recovered, body still aches. He moves gingerly, carefully. Even in pain and filthy, he is still so beautiful, her golden child. Can a machine be programmed to love? To adore? These are questions that have no answers. All she knows is that her world has shrunk to the length and width of the young man before her. Eventually, he rises from the bed and makes his way to the next room over.

Steam rises off the water of the bath she’s prepared for him. It takes some effort to peel the rest of his soiled clothes from him. When she moves to help, he waves her off. He lets of a great sigh as he lowers himself into the tub. He dips his head down below the surface of the water until he his fully submerged. He stays below for nearly a minute before rising. Mead turns and makes for the door but pauses when he speaks.

“Stay,” he says. “I need help washing my hair.”

He leans back into the curve of the tub, hair still dripping red slopping over the edge of the tub. Mead rolls up her sleeves and sets to work. Once she’s finished lathering, he lets her dip his head back and pour warm water over his head from a small bowl that she had set besides the tub previously.

“Do you remember who I am?” he asks her.

Do you remember who we used to be? How we used to be? You meant everything to me. I have never loved anything or anyone better than I loved you.

Mead fills the bowl once more and pours.

“Do you want me to be honest or kind?”

“Honest,” he says without hesitancy. “Tell me all of it.”

Another bowl of water before she speaks again.

“I am an android who looks and shares many characteristics with a woman who was named Miriam Mead. I am called Miriam Mead as well. And while I do not have access to the memories of the original Miriam Mead, many of the feelings and emotions that Miriam Mead’s memories evoked were used as groundwork for my current personality. I don’t have your Mead’s exact memories but I have impressions, bits of code leftover to help make sense of contradicting stimuli. I know that there was a boy that meant everything to Miriam Mead and I know that boy is you and that you loved her also but I am essentially not that version of Miriam Mead. I am only what I am.”

He nods slightly but beyond that he gives no other indication of wanting to speak further. He slips further into the water until his chin brushes the surface. There are no more questions. The water grows cold in the silence and when the cold becomes unbearable, Michael rises and exits the bath.

They don’t speak again until he’s ready to dress. He lets her dress him.

“What is the status of our extraction?” he says evenly.

She works on doing up his shirt as she answers.

“I’ve informed the Sanctuary that Outpost 3 has been prepared for decommission. They have given an estimation of five hours until extraction.”

Next is his jacket, it is simpler than the other pieces he’s worn before and less formal.

“You informed them to be prepared for for three travelers.”

She pauses in her work, smoothing her hands over his shoulders then dropping them to her sides.

“Three...yes.”

Why she pauses, Mead cannot say.

“Is there an issue, Ms. Mead?” he says evenly.

He turns to glance over his shoulder and his gaze is like fire. If she could feel pain, perhaps she would have balked.

“Yes. The girl. She should be dealt with. Her presence is a hazard and was not part of the original protocol. She is a liability that serves no purpose.”

“None at all?”

He turns around to face her fully now. His face impassive but something more behind the eyes. Even as cold and mechanic as she is, his golden figure, clad in all black, looming above her with a dark look in his eye makes Mead hesitate.

“She’s a distraction.”

Michael sighs, rolls his eyes. He shrinks back, suddenly just a boy again. He goes to his desk and settles on his chair.  

“Of course she’s a distraction, Ms. Mead,” he says. “Look around. This world is over, the sky is ash, the earth is spoiled. It is a world emptied of all things and I am its king. All that’s left are distractions.”

Mead remembers moments like this with Wilhemina, so many moments over the last year when her former mistress had been brought so low that she physically bowed beneath the weight of her failures. Mead had learned quickly that it was best to leave Wilhemina to her own devices during these moments. The shame of her weakness being witnessed was worse than solitude. But instead of leaving Michael alone, Mead approaches despite all memory telling her that she should go. In a human, this is called instinct but machines have no such mechanism. It is a ghost in the machine, perhaps the ghost of the first Miriam Mead that motivates her forward.

She approaches him slowly, like one would approach a wounded animal. Her hands fall heavy on his shoulders. He can feel the whir of her, the literal machinations of her mind clicking into place. It is a heavy reminder that this isn’t really his Mead. She is a culmination of points on a plane, a gathering of data, numbers, polymer. Still, Michael finds some comfort in her gesture. Satisfied that his expectations have been understood he stands and continues to dress. Mead stands aside and does not offer anymore assistance.

“You were right though, Ms. Mead. She may prove to be hazardous yet,” he says. “I know what she is now.”

Somehow Mallory manages to find her way to her room in the darkness but as soon as she gets there she realizes that there is not much there. Her room is practically barren. There’s her bed that sits in the far right corner, the head of the bed and its side pushed flush against corner. A small closet sits on the other end of the room at the foot of the bed. In it hangs one last set of Greys, a single candle that’s been burned down to a length of only a few inches. At once, she grabs the candle and searches the front pocket in the apron of her dress. Finding in the pocket a small cardboard box, Mallory lets out a small sigh of relief.

Taking the candle and box with her, Mallory goes to sit on her bed. The metal frame creaks beneath her meager weight. She places the candle on the scratchy wool blanket and begins to work the lid of the box off. The box is small, only about five inches by five inches. It must have been used to hold a necklace or some other such tiny trinket before. Over the past year, Mallory had been prone to pilfering small items and she would keep them in her little box. She opens the box and within it there are four items, four tiny crystal, a short, irregular piece of charcoal, a small sprig of rosemary, and a box of matches. All of them stolen, all of them the only things that truly belong to her anymore.

The first thing she takes out is the box of matches. The matches had been issued to her back when she had been given her status as a Grey. Greys were expected to light any and all the lamps in the outpost and put them out as needed. But when Mallory had received that first box of matches for some reason she had hidden it away in the apron of one of her other dresses and claimed that she had lost it. She had received quite a verbal lashing from Venable and Mallory’s rations had been cut for three days but after all that she had for the first time since coming to Outpost 3 something of her own. And now the box of matches sits in her little box, still unopened.

The seal on the box of matches breaks easily under her thumbnail. Even in the darkness of her room she notices the blood caked under them and is suddenly aware of how her clothes are also caked in dried blood. She slides the box of matches open, takes a single match out and strikes it on the red phosphorous. The flame jumps to life and Mallory quickly drops the box of matches and grabs the candle. She lights it on the first try and her room is dimly lit.

Mallory lets the candle burn for a little while before turning and climbing further onto her bed. There was a slight ledge created by a square depression above her the head of her bed that had been cut into the wall. Mallory let a few drops of melted wax drop onto the dusty stone and then placed the candle on it to keep it in place. With her room at least a little lit, Mallory clamors off her bed and stands to get a better look at herself. Seeing the bloody state she’s in yet again turns her stomach and she begins to strip and did not stop until she stood before her bed in only her underwear.

Still standing, she begins to remove the other items in her box. She removes the four tiny crystals first. When she, Coco, and Gallant had entered Outpost 3, all of their personal items had been confiscated. This included their clothes, any jewelry or accessories, even their phones. Coco had put up such a fuss when they had taken her phone, a tacky bedazzled monstrosity that would have been cheap too if not for the fact that it had been inlaid with Swarovski crystals. Coco had screamed and practically assaulted the poor sap who had been ordered to remove the phone. In the fray, no one but Mallory seemed to notice the four crystals that fell to the floor from the phone case. Before they had been ushered further into the outpost, Mallory had quickly snatched the glittering jewels up. She had told herself that it was so she could return them to Coco but she knew even that that was a lie. Mallory would fall asleep many a night with the feeling the crystals’ sharp edges digging into the skin of her palm, forming dark impression where they cut into her.

She holds them in her palm again. This is all that remains of Coco now. On her way back to her room, Mallory had also stopped to check in on the other woman’s rooms and found it entirely devoid. Not only had Coco’s personal affects been taken but the bed had been stripped, mattress removed.

“I miss you,” Mallory says to four shining crystals but they seem unconvinced.

“I miss you,” Mallory says to the empty room and her statement feels just as hollow.

She says it again trying with what feels like Herculean effort to sound more sincere, more honest like Langdon had told her to be. She says it again this time, tears well up in her eyes but not because of Coco. She’s frustrated because no matter how she tries, Mallory knows that she doesn’t miss Coco. What she misses is having something, anything from her old life to hold on to. Coco was a selfish, petty, empty bitch but she was the last living connection to a time when Mallory felt like she knew what the hell was going on in her life.

There had been a time when Mallory felt like there was more between she and Coco than between an employer and employee. At the beginning of her employment, Coco had been almost pleasant and there was something oddly nostalgic about her to Mallory. There had been some comfort in being near to Coco like remembering something that you had forgotten for years. Even as the relationship began to sour and Coco became crueler and more vindictive, there was still that familiarity that existed between them a belonging that Mallory could neither explain nor abandon. And Mallory thought that perhaps Coco had felt it too because no matter how many times she had threatened to fire Mallory and ruin her career, Coco had never gone through with it. She had always kept Mallory tied to her side.

Mallory doesn’t miss Coco but Mallory but she misses something . Mallory longs for something she cannot name. For some reason, her thoughts suddenly turn to Langdon and the feeling his hand over her sternum. His skin against hers had been so warm, blooming across her chest almost exactly like that feeling she had when the candles had lit on their own before. She shakes the memory off and instead unpacks the rest of the items within her box and places them in a neat row on the shelf besides her candle. First the crystals, then the sprig, the charcoal and the matches.

Still clad only in her underwear, Mallory lies down in her bed. Above her head is the flame and the only things she owns in this whole ruined world. The air is frigid and makes her skin raise with goose pimples but she doesn’t get under the covers. She lies flat on her back and closes her eyes. Mallory chooses the cold. She’s had her fill of warmth and fire for now.

The sound of her door snapping open jolts Mallory into consciousness. She had no way to know how long she’s slept but her candle has burned out. Mead stands in the open door way, in her hand a lamp.

“I told you to get clean,” Mead grumbles. “Just get dressed and come to the decontamination area.”

Mallory has no time to respond as Mead quickly turns and leaves. The door is left ajar and Mallory can see from her place on the bed that the hallway lamps have been lit. She dresses as quickly as she can, grateful for the clean set of clothes in her closet. She still feels the grime and filth still on her but the fresh clothes provide some relief. She turns to the ledge where the crystals, the charcoal, the sprig and matches still sit. The open box is still on her bed where she left it. Mallory pauses but before even a minute can pass she turns and leaves. The door to the room where all vestiges of her old life are is left ajar.

When she arrives at the decontamination area, Langdon is halfway in his suit already. Mead stands aside and eyes Mallory warily from her place besides Langdon. Only one other suit has been prepared. A cold stab of fear strikes her. Two suits and three people, she takes a step back. She should have known. She should have known .

“Well come on,” Langdon says as he zips up the front of his suit. “If you don’t hurry, I might decide to leave you behind.”

He motions towards the other suit.

“That one’s yours. Get it on,” he says as he picks up his helmet. When she doesn’t move he adds, “ quickly .”

Mallory moves at his insistence but she isn’t very good at putting the suit on. It’s  heavy and she’s only ever worn one once. Mead steps forward and helps her. Once the rest of the suit is on, Mead secures the helmet on to Mallory’s head. Her vision is significantly restricted. Mallory can only see ahead of her now. Mead pushes forward and Mallory begins to walk. Ahead of her, she can see Langdon. He continues upward.

There is a sudden pop of air as Langdon releases the sealed door above them and the cacophony of the outside world comes rushing in. Even through her bio suit she can feel the cold of nuclear winter beat against her body. The suit keeps out the radiation, but not the cold, not perfectly anyway. Wind howls. Dust and mist whips around them as they break through the surface of the Earth. She watches as small pebbles roll across barren ground carried by the strength of great, rambling gusts.

Curiously, Mead follows them out into the open air. She wears no suit but seems not to care. It is she who takes the lead, walking out beyond the bleak, cylindric maze of the outpost’s outer walls. He seems to sense her question because he turns to her and follows her gaze to Mead. She fees rather than sees him smiling behind that mask of his.

“No more pretending, Mallory,” Langdon says, his voice garbled by his mask, by the wind, by the sound of gravel crunching beneath the wheels of two black SUV’s emerging from the toxic mists into sight.

Three figures, cloaked and hooded, move through the mists outside of Outpost 3. They form a tight formation, one leads, the other two flank the first. The black, marble door yields easily to them with a wave of the first figure’s hand. They are a dark flood sweeping through the pitch black halls of Outpost 3, decommissioned only a few hours earlier. Eventually they come to a wide open room with a fire pit, long since gone cold. The first figure removes her hood to reveal a woman, blonde, with eyes that had not always matched so well. The other two follow suit.

Cordelia Goode, Supreme of her generation, heir apparent and blood to Prudence Mather, gives her command and all yield to it.

“Find our sisters.”

[what-the--curtains]

Braving the Elements

Chapter 23: Falling

Part 1/2

Tw: swearing

Notes: hello all!! Sorry ive been gone but im back now! Heres the next chapter hope yall enjoy!! Thanks for liking and commenting❤️

Songs:

You hadn’t slept at all, the cruel words you had spoken to Bucky still ringing in your ears. Standing up you contemplate going to his room, but it's 4:30AM. Not wanting to make him even angrier you head out for a morning run. As you run you can feel someone trying to penetrate your thoughts, probably Apocalypse, you crank up your music and run until your legs and mind go numb and head home. You take the elevator back up and saunter into the kitchen, removing your headphones, you grab down some cereal. Pouring it into a bowl you turn around to see Sam sitting at the kitchen island.

“Hey you seen Bucky?” you ask.

“You okay? You look like someone just kicked your puppy and no, he’s in Budapest on a mission with Nat and Clint for the rest of the week? Didn’t he tell you?”

“Oh ya right. Morning brain.” you say, jokingly smacking the side of your head in an attempt to mask your surprise. Sam gives you a side eye not entirely convinced by your performance.

“Wanda’s out of the infirmary she’s been looking for you.” He says through a mouth full of cereal. “No one’s mad at you, you know. It wasn’t your fault, she was pushing you. She knew that,” seeing that his efforts to be kind weren’t working he continues “but seriously you ever use me as a human puppet and I will never talk to you again.”

“Believe me, last place I wanna be is in your weird body Wilson.” You say with a laugh. Somewhere between the pranks and mocking you and Sam had managed to build an almost indestructible friendship.

“Hey you were looking for me?” you ask entering Wanda’s room where she’s sitting in bed with Vision.

“Ya, how are you?” she shuffles up straight.

“God Wanda, I almost kill you and you’re asking me if I’m okay.” You chuckle taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

“You didn’t almost kill me, I was never in danger of dying, the test show that.” She says leaning over to grab a brown paper folder which she throws your way. You see it's her medical charts. You pick it up and hand it back to Vision unopened.

“Have you thought anymore about continuing your training?” She poses. You bite your lip, and avert your gaze “We’re not going to force you to do anything. Take as much time as you need.” She extends her hand out to you, you take it, forcing a small smile.

“Do you think he knows?” you ask, referring to your newly found ability to control people.

“He said your mother could control water, which is why she could control plants, it wouldn’t surprise me if he made the connection that humans are mostly water and that you had the potential for controlling them as well if pushed.” Vision responds

“So that’s why he needs me. To get all those no compliant mutants to join him in the fight to restart the world. Wanda I’m so sorry.” You say feeling a lump form in your throat.

“You don’t need to apologize, we thought it could happen. That’s his job, figure out all the possible outcomes” She says placing a hand on Visions.

“That’s why I was there that day, as a safety precaution.” He reassures.

“You’ve seen me turn an entire forest to ash before, that could have happened to you.” You say concerned

“But it didn't,” she says, eyes trying to meet yours.

“I’ll let you know about the training.” You say, dragging your weary body off the bed. You make your way back to your room exhausted and you decide to call it an early night.

A week passes. You’re wandering around looking for something to do when you pass by Nats room and see her unpacking. It takes a moment to register but when it does you stop abruptly and back track to her door, knocking lightly on the doorframe. She turns her head to face you.

“How was Budapest?” you ask, hoping she’ll give you some information about Bucky and what he had been up to during his mission.

“Pretty uneventful. Beautiful city, lots of beautiful people. Barnes was in a particularly sour mood. You know if anything upset him?” She asks

You shrug knowing full well Nat would be able to tell you were lying based on your body language,

“Well whatever it was I’m sure he’ll forgive you one day!” she says with a laugh, but you weren’t so sure.

You speed walk to Bucky’s room, jogging in out of breath you quickly scan the room. You see his bag laying on his bed, half unpacked, but he’s nowhere to be found. Feeling at a loss you decide to head to the gym, hoping to take out some of whatever emotion you were feeling on a nearby punching bag. You stop at the kitchen to fill your water and see Sam there.

“Hey you seen Bucky?” you ask, screwing on the top of the bottle.

“Nah why? You in some kind of trouble? Seriously seems like I’m keeping better track of your man than you are.” he laughs.

“Something like that” you mumble chewing on your cheek to stop yourself from getting upset or giving away too much. Seeing your face he realizes it wasn’t the time for jokes.

“Shit,” he says “Well when he’s upset he goes for a run maybe just give him some space.”

“I have. A whole week. I think I really fucked it up this time Sam.” You say choking up slightly.

“I sincerely doubt that I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone make him so happy as much as you do and that may even include Steve” He laughs but it's cut short when he looks up and sees your face plastered with concern.

“He didn’t even tell me he was going to Budapest” you manage to get out. “God after everything I said about not wanting to get hurt… I’m the one to hurt him, of course I am. Jesus I should never have even talked to him!” you say burying your head in your hands “He woulda been better off never knowing me.”

“Damn it,” Sam says lightly smacking the countertop with his hand, starling you “I’m actually gonna have to get involved. Look Bucky has had a lot of one night stands, even a fair amount of short term partners and all, but with you it's different. He’s different, better when he’s around you, more carefree. I’ve heard people screaming his name but I’ve never heard him saying someone’s name like it’s some kind of prayer. He’s better off for knowing you and no one whose ever seen the two of you together could ever dispute it.”

“Didn’t know you guys could hear us” you whisper

“Well we can sometimes and we put up with it because we love you guys so go and fix it.” He says standing up and pushing you towards the gym