#tw hints of homophobia

[southerndragontamer]

Egotober Day 29: Fright

Virgil was in his room as he rocked with his hands over his ears, his heart raced in his chest and the shadows in the room were darker as they pulled in towards him and he tried to breathe right. He hated panic attacks, hated hated hated-he mentally shook himself a second to try to remember what had happened. Why he was like this, why Thomas was so panicked.

It had been a normal day so far, he’d poked at Thomas to turn the stove off after he’d finished cooking, to turn the water off in the bathroom after he’d done his teeth and to double check his pockets for his phone and keys. You know the normal small anxiety stuff that they both knew had to happen to get him to function right.

Even the game night with Thomas’ friends had been fine, Virgil hadn’t even been that bad about checking the math more than once in his head at Logan’s insistence on it but it had actually been…fun to watch them all geek out over the board game. But…oh…the anxious side felt his breath hitch in his metaphysical chest.

After the game night, when Roman and Remus had vanished into Imagination to work on their respective creativity, Patton had went to the kitchen and Logan to decompress from social interaction in the library with Janus at his heels for the same reason, Thomas had gone to do the same with some tv. And there had been a brief flip to a religious channel.

Virgil didn’t have anything against religion by concept, or thought that everyone was a nut job who forced their views down everyone’s throat and were closed minded to change because it didn’t fit ‘their version’ of their gods ideals that was actually so far from the original text due to how humans had played it like a game of telephone over the years no one remembered the real thing-Focus Virgil! He took a shaking breath and got back on track.

It had just been one line, something stupid about ‘gay marriage being unholy’ or similar but it had sent Thomas right back into the mindset he’d had as a teen before he’d come out and that was why Virgil was having a panic attack. He needed to get to Thomas, now. Before the others felt it, especially Remus. He shut his eyes tight, ignored the feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong that crawled up his spine and popped up next to a slightly hyperventilating Thomas, eyes locked on a blank tv. Virgil used his deeper tone to get his attention,

“Thomas. Thomas, look at me.”

Frightened hazel, pupils blown wide in panic and anxiety and fear- Virgil slowly reached out and took Thomas’ tense shoulders in shaking hands and looked him in the eye with glowing purple. He spoke slowly so that he could focus on the tone first, then the words.

“Thomas, you’re having a panic attack. I know why and it’s ok, I understand why it triggered this. But the old man is wrong, ah-ah no…deep breath in for me….hold it….yes he’s wrong Thomas. He doesn’t know what holy really is, he wouldn’t understand love is love if it bit him in the pope hat…let it out.”

Virgil smirked as his crude tinged joke got a huffed out sheepish laugh and he nodded in reassurance as he leaned in just a little closer, pulled him into a hug as he kept talking, like Patton did when he was in his own anxious spiral and brought him through his breathing exercises.

“Yeah there you go Thomas, deep breath in….seven seconds, hold it…it’s all ok. You aren’t wrong for loving someone, you were made this way when you were born. Nothing about you was ‘corrupted’ or ‘twisted’ or ‘just happened out of the blue’ or ‘a phase’ or whatever the hot pockets you’ve been told. Let it out….good. Now, since we’re calmed down wanna watch some Disney? There’s a Halloween inspired marathon on that has Nightmare Before Christmas and Hocus Pocus in it.”

[orangeflowerpetals]

the fic tags are going great! 👍

Pls read the tags below

[my-castles-crumbling]

Locker Room Talk

Jegulus - based on a request by @missmoonfrost - TW: homophobia, suggestive talk

Regulus heard them whispering. He wasn't stupid.

As he changed after the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch game, he saw the disgusted looks and eyerolls and picked up on the students whispering behind their hands.

"....such a homo. I mean, what if he stares at my prick, or something?" One of the older boys murmured, a horrified look on his face, eyes on Regulus.

And he froze. Because what, exactly, could he do? He wasn't even sure how it got out, and he was quite outnumbered here, and his own self-loathing was seeping through every pore in his body as it was.

But someone else spoke. "Listen, Mulciber," James Potter said confidently, a hint of a sneer on his face, "I've recently discovered my own affinity for dick, but let me tell you, nobody- gay, straight, or otherwise- wants to look at your disgusting excuse for a prick."

And Mulciber immediately began stuttering, his cheeks turning pink, because the entirety of the Gryffindor Team was looking around, ready to defend James if necessary, and even a few Slytherins were laughing to themselves.

It was only as James grabbed his bag and went to exit the room that he paused for half a second, looking Regulus up and down, and threw him a suggestive wink.

[slashbitch2]

scream!

Summary: when murder comes to Westview in the form of a masked killer, you begin to doubt whether you can trust those closest to you...

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Implied Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader, Hinted Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

TW: rather mild smut, dubious consent, blood, violence, injury, death, homophobia, murder... basically the whole plot of the first scream film so if you can survive that im sure you will be fine lol, also spoilers for scream (1996)

W.C: 19.0k words

The words on the screen had already started to blur. Black words on a white screen merged into a sort of greyish mess. Your eyes longed to close, your hands itching to shut down the computer for the night, but onwards you pressed, fingers feverously darting across the keyboard. Everything else in your bedroom was still, lulled into peace by early moonlight seeping through an open window. A quick glance at the time revealed it was already 10pm. You figured that soon you ought to give up and start getting ready for bed…

A thud sounded somewhere outside, your head whipping towards the open window- which no longer displayed the empty night sky, but a figure, hunched over and perched precariously on the windowsill.

An intruder.

Your heart stopped.

And then, the stranger flicked a wave of dark auburn hair out of their face, and your heart continued to beat an irregular pattern. Wanda Maximoff, your girlfriend, who was rubbing her head where she’d smacked it against the roof ledge.

“Jeez.” At this revelation, you shot up from your seat and walked over to the window, tugging it all the way open. “You scared the shit out of me, Wanda.”

She grinned at you, swinging her legs through the frame, hoisting herself inside. “I’m sorry. Don’t hate me. I just wanted to see you.” Her feet landed with a gentle thud, dragging mud onto your white carpet.

“It’s late.” You folded your arms and stared, unimpressed at her cocky expression. “If my dad catches you…”

“I’ll only stay a sec.” She reassured though you were still hesitant. Noticing this, she opened her arms, beckoning you closer. “Come here. Please.”

You obliged and stepped forward, but kept your arms crossed as a physical barrier between you, maintaining the act that you were annoyed at Wanda. More than anything you were just concerned. She was already unpopular with your father, and if he caught her here, it’d surely spell the end of your relationship.

Wanda huffed, hooked a finger in the waistband of your sweatpants and dragged you towards her. You stumbled into her arms, feeling them wrap securely around your back as you reciprocated the embrace. She nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck which, as always, made you melt.

“I’ll make it up to you.” She whispered, the sensation of her warm breath against your skin sending goosebumps throughout your body.

“Oh yeah?” Something daring seeped into your tone as you pulled away to stare at her face, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “For scaring me? Or for the inevitable grounding I’m going to get when my dad discovers you visited?”

“That won’t happen.” She scoffed, nails digging into your waist. “I’ve already been here a couple minutes and he hasn’t come running.”

“Yet...” You shook your head. “But he’ll definitely know when he sees the mud you’ve tracked onto my carpet.”

You saw how her gaze flickered down to your lips and stayed there. “I can help clean it up.” She promised, with no real intention behind her words.

“Alright.” You scanned her face, noticing how blown out her pupils were, saw the slight red tint to her cheeks, watched closely as she licked her lips. You unconsciously leant forward, eyes closing, holding your breath to place a gentle kiss against her lips. Her grip on your waist tightened almost painfully as she immediately deepened the kiss, your mouth naturally parting to allow her entry.

You hummed, savouring the sweet taste of her, contrasting with the way she desperately pressed herself against you. As though she wanted the two of you to permanently merge, never to separate. Her obsession with you was intoxicating. You felt her tongue trace along your teeth, the kiss turning messy as Wanda pushed you back, step by step until your knees hit the edge of your bed.

She held onto you, slowing your fall against the soft mattress, her lips instantly returning to yours as she clambered on top of you. Your heart was no longer racing. It was pounding. But now wasn’t the time to let this go any further.

“Wanda...” You murmured, trying to break away.

She bit against your bottom lip, almost painfully. Her hands were all over you, brushing against the exposed skin of your stomach, up and underneath your shirt. As she began trying to get under your bra, you finally caught hold of her forearm, halting her advance.

“Wanda.” You repeated. Firmer, this time.

Seeing your serious expression, she sighed and sat up. A chill suffused across your body at the loss of contact, worsened by the flicker of annoyance that crossed her face. She was breathing heavily, jaw clenched as she took in your vulnerable position, the heat in her gaze increasing.

“See what you do to me.” She quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her lips quirking up.

You pushed yourself up, leaned against the headboard of your bed and appreciated her dishevelled state. “You know what my dad would do to you?” You reprimanded, reminding her of the reason for breaking it off.

“Fine.” She raised her hands in surrender, hopping off the bed. “I’m going… I’m going.”

You followed her to the window. “Very gentle-womanly of you.”

She placed her hands on the frame, lifting herself up and through.

“Hey.” You placed your hand over hers, stopping her before she disappeared back into the night. “Be safe, alright?” The drop below her wasn’t too far, but the lack of light made it look like some gaping black void ready to swallow her up.

“I will. Pietro’s waiting down the street. He’ll walk me home.”

“Good.” You nodded.

“And, about all…that.” She inclined her head towards the now ruffled bedsheets. “I’m not trying to rush you with any of that.”

You softened at her anxious apology and bent down to plant a chaste kiss against her cheek. “I know, it’s fine. I do want all of that, just… not now.” You shared a smile with her, then added, “but soon.”

“I know.” Wanda bit her lip, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

‘Soon’ came quicker than you would’ve thought. You slept soundly that night and found your alarm blaring at you to get up after what felt like barely ten minutes since you had closed your eyes. It took you a while to actually get up, not because you were reluctant to start the day, quite the opposite in fact. You lay there, wondering what the day would bring, dreaming of walking into school and being greeted by your girlfriend and friends.

You were the happiest you’d ever been since transferring there, and it wasn’t just because of Wanda. There was also Peter Parker, your film fanatic friend, Kate Bishop, who was dating Wanda’s twin brother Pietro, and Yelena Belova, who you would meet halfway on your walk to school every morning. Except for today…

You had waited as long as you could, but she never showed. It wasn’t uncommon for her to skip days, but usually, she called you the night before to inform you of her plans. At first, you were rather annoyed by her unannounced absence- but that annoyance was replaced by concern as soon as you arrived at school, seeing the six police cars, four news vans and a scattered crowd of onlookers stationed outside.

The sudden commotion surrounding your school left you confused and dazed, walking amongst the chaos trying desperately to gather any idea of what had happened here. You stopped in front of one of the reporters talking to a camera, your interest peaking as you recognised her. Pepper Potts. She was one of the local news presenters, infamous for often orchestrating her own version of dull stories to make headline.

“The small town of Westview, New Jersey was devastated last night when a young teenage girl was found brutally butchered in her own home.” Pepper’s expression was grave, her clothing abrasively colourful and ill-fitting for the unfolding story. “Authorities have yet to issue a statement, but our sources tell us that no arrest has been made yet.”

You felt suddenly and inexplicably hot with panic, yet frozen in place.

“The question on all of our minds: could this murderer strike again?”

Westview had never been subjected to such horrors before, the idea of a serial killer operating in your midst being previously unthinkable. Your mind flickered suddenly to Yelena and her sudden disappearance. The logical part of you refused to jump to conclusions but did nothing to stop anxiety from rising in the pit of your stomach.

A finger tapped against your shoulder, dragging you from your spiralling worries. You swivelled round to meet Kate’s warm brown eyes, which were unusually stormy and frantic. “Do you believe this shit?”

“What happened?” You asked instead, praying that Kate somehow already knew more than you.

And she did. “Oh god! You don’t know?” Her lips turned downwards as she scanned the scene thoughtfully. Fearfully. “Yelena was killed last night.”

“What.” You felt the ground drop out from beneath your feet, legs almost buckling under the sudden shock.

“And not just killed, Y/N. We’re talking slasher movie killed- split open end to end.”

“Alright.” You waved off her overly descriptive explanation, pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a deep breath. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. There was no way Yelena was dead. She was just at home, lazing in bed because she hadn’t done her English assignment.

You thought of her messy, blonde hair, her sharp hazel eyes. Thought of her untidy bedroom floor you had spent so many sleepovers on, her parents always so welcoming. You thought of the stray dog she had been feeding for the last couple of years. Who would look after him now?

“God.” You clutched at your stomach, tried not to heave at the realisation that this was real. Someone wanted Yelena dead and had succeeded.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” Kate placed a gentle, comforting hand on your back then swiftly removed it. “I didn’t think… I forgot you guys were… friends.”

“It’s fine.” You shook off the concern, forcibly standing up straight and glancing around. “I’m guessing the police will probably want to talk to me.”

“Yeah… probably.” Kate agreed feebly. “They’ve been rounding up friends of Yelena on the way in for interviews.”

The sickness settled in your chest. One you would have to learn to live with, to allow to stew into anger. “Do they have any idea who did this?”

“No. Peter said his uncle is on the case, and that it’s the worst crime he’s ever seen.” You looked back at Kate’s face, deeply pained. “It’s bad. They’re bringing in the feds. This is big.”

“Shit.” You said, at a loss for words.

“Shit indeed.” Kate agreed.

As predicted, you were instantly called into questioning in the principal’s office. It was intimidating to walk in and see a room full of cops with the headmaster, Nicky Fury sitting calmly at his desk. The man always looked extremely serious, but today was something else entirely. The frown he wore seemed engraved into his face like it was carved out of solid stone.

“Miss Y/L/N.” He gestured to the chair opposite. “Please, have a seat.”

Reluctantly, you sat down, then noticed the officer stood to Fury’s left: Tony Stark. He was Peter Parker’s uncle, and as such, the least menacing figure in the room.

“Hey Tony.” You greeted out of habit, wringing your hands in your lap.

“It’s Deputy Stark today, kid.” He corrected, crossing his arms.

“Sorry.” You muttered, glancing around the room at all the unfamiliar faces, feeling worse and worse. Although there was no spotlight shining in your face, it felt no less like a persecution.

Nonetheless, you answered all their questions to the best of your knowledge, trying your hardest not to imagine poor Yelena, left lying face down in a pool of her own blood. She had never been the type to be squeamish or frightened, and right now, you wished you had just a fraction of her courage…

By the time your interrogation- or interview, as they had been referring to it- was over, the lunch bell had just rung. You slung your backpack over your shoulder and headed to the courtyard where you normally ate lunch, though you had no appetite today. With every question the officers had asked, every gentle, probing ‘are you alright’ you had grown more and more sick. You looked a mess. Pale. Unfocused. Very seriously considering calling your dad to come pick you up…

“Hey!” A familiar voice broke through the general ruckus of the courtyard. “Y/N, over here.” It was Pietro, waving you over, his other arm slung over Kate’s shoulder possessively. As per usual, Pietro seemed his usual obnoxious self, totally unbothered by everything that was happening. Kate smiled at you pitifully, while Wanda, sat to her left, eyed you up with a wariness as you approached.

It was Peter, always the fifth wheel, who budged over to make room for you. You forced a thankful smile at him, muttered a brief hello to everyone else, and sat as close to Wanda as possible. She appeared to snap back into reality, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you closer, playing the role of concerned girlfriend perfectly. You sunk into her embrace, relaxed at the familiar smell of her shampoo and perfume, soaked up the warmth from her body and closed your eyes.

Temporarily, the nauseating sensation faded.

“Hunt? Why would they ask if you like to hunt?” Kate frowned at Pietro, and whatever tale he had been spinning while you hadn’t been paying attention.

Your eyes fluttered open as you picked up on the middle of their conversation. Wanda leant into your ear to whisper, “Pietro was called into interrogation too. He sits next to her in English.”

“Probably because her body was gutted.” He scoffed.

You flinched, despite having already accepted that Yelena’s murder would be the only topic of conversation for the following couple of months.

“Wow, thanks for that Piet.” Kate scolded, ever aware of your reaction.

“They didn’t ask me if I like to hunt.” Peter chimed in, to which everyone looked at him, confused. “They questioned me too. Not sure why. I saw her in the library sometimes, but that was it.”

“They didn’t ask you because… well- look at you!” Pietro snorted, gesturing at Peter who, admittedly did not look capable of murder. He was well-built, but often had a pair of glasses perched upon his nose, and a pathetic attempt at growing facial hair paired with hand-me-down sweaters in all weather, hot or cold.

“Yeah, Yelena was completely hollowed out. Takes a man to do something like that.” Wanda added, while softly stroking a thumb along your arm, as if that made it all better.

“Or a man’s mentality.” You commented, finding that if you thought about the whole situation as being purely theoretical, it wasn’t too bad. “How do you gut someone?” You said, more to yourself than aloud.

There was a beat of surprised silence.

“Well, you just take a knife,” Pietro grabbed a pencil from his pocket, held it out as though it were a weapon, “and slit from the groin to the sternum.” He mimed slicing through the air, making a hissing sound.

You shivered down to your soul. Never had you expected Pietro to have such an unapologetically violent imagination. You almost hated him for it. A glance at Kate revealed the same expression of shock, not having expected such graphic insensitivity from her boyfriend.

“What?” Pietro exclaimed. “She asked.” He laughed, throwing the pencil down.

“You couldn’t have been a little more sensitive?” Wanda chastised; a barely suppressed rage hidden in her tone. “Someone died last night, and you’re acting like it had nothing to do with us. Yelena was Y/N’s friend. She went to this school, attended our lessons, was our classmate. Be more tactful.” She spat.

You couldn’t help but swell with pride at Wanda’s outburst, and in the tense avoidance of eye contact that followed amongst the group, you quickly kissed her cheek in thanks.

“Sorry.” Pietro rubbed his forehead, bashfully avoiding anyone’s gaze except for his sister’s. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He threw his hands up in mock surrender, and for a blessed second, you thought it was all over. And then, he turned to you with an exaggerated curiosity. “Weren’t you and Yelena more than friends at one point?”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. It had been a long, long time since than rumour had circulated the school. Although, there was some truth behind it… You and Yelena had been friends since middle school, and there had been a few moments when you had considered perhaps pursuing a relationship with her. But every time you tried it, you both ended up concluding that you were better off just staying friends.

You felt Wanda tense beside you, snapping you back into reality. “Not really. We tried it ages ago. Didn’t work out...” You explained, trailing off towards the end. You hadn’t been with Wanda long enough for the topic to arise, but there was no way she didn’t know. The school wasn’t big, and gossip was traded amongst everyone, whether they be a loner outcast or stereotypical popular cheerleader.

“Ahh…” Pietro nodded slowly, feigning ignorance. “And you dumped her for my sister?

You gritted your teeth, hating how such an insignificant part of your past was suddenly in the limelight. “I didn’t dump her because we never really dated. And we’ve been nothing but friends for over two years now- or I guess were.”

“Come on, Pietro. Are you trying to insinuate Wanda is some revengeful, jealous girlfriend?” Peter joked, trying to lighten the tension that had fallen across your table.

Wanda laughed, though the humour didn’t spread beyond her lips.

“Actually, she was with me last night.” You placed a hand on her upper thigh, grasped at the muscle there and felt it flex. “Too busy being stupidly committed and climbing through my window to enact her revenge.”

“Yeah, exactly.” She fixed Pietro with a pointed stare. “Besides, like I said, it takes a man to do something like that.”

...

You got the bus home that day, unwilling to walk your usual route back from school alone while there was a possible killer on the loose. After all, if they’d gone for your friend Yelena, who’s to say they wouldn’t be targeting you next? As you stepped inside your house, shutting the door securely behind you, it dawned on you that you might not truly be safe even here. Nobody was. Not until they caught whoever had murdered Yelena.

Suddenly, you got the distinct feeling that you were being watched, as though the killer had eyes in the walls of your home. You shivered and called out for your dad- only to be met with silence. Panic began to rise in your chest, amplifying with every footstep that echoed through the empty house. The stuffy air became suffocating, the walls closing in around you as you searched each room. All the furniture lay dormant and undisturbed, awaiting someone’s arrival. Your heart was in your throat, your mind jumping to all the worst conclusions about where your father was.

By your second lap around the house, your eyes landed on a note pinned to the fridge. You stormed over, yanked the paper free from the magnet and with shaking hands scanned the page. It was from your father, a scribbled explanation that his brother in the next state over had fallen seriously ill and he needed to visit immediately. The note explained that he had tried to ring the school but got no answer, eventually giving up and having to leave without you.

The final line detailed that he had left a wad of cash for you to order food and fend for yourself for the foreseeable future, which you retrieved right away. You flipped the bills around in your hand, feeling the textured paper as if to ground yourself, to convince yourself this was real, not some fabricated trick by a murderer currently stalking you. After the day you’d had, anything could be possible.

But, oh god- your dad must not have known. He had left town at possibly the worst moment being none the wiser. And you were stuck here, genuinely unable to imagine any worse time to be home alone. Your hands itched to pick up the phone, to try dialling your uncle’s house, pray someone would pick up so you could demand your father return home as soon as physically possible. But that would be cruel, and so instead, you typed in Kate’s number.

Her mother answered after a couple seconds and made briefly awkward small talk before calling out to her daughter, who came running.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you alright? I was gonna call and check-“

“Yeah, yeah, Kate, I’m fine.” You interrupted. “But look, my dad’s had to leave for some family emergency and,“

“Oh shit, you’re alone?” Her voice quickly succumbed to worry, one which made you smile despite everything. You were lucky to have such a caring friend. “Do you want to come stay with us for a while?”

“Please.” You let out a sigh of relief. “That’s what I was calling about. I’m not sure how long my dad will be gone for but…”

“Yeah, of course it’s no worry.” She assured. “I’ll pick you up after archery practice?”

“Sure. When do you finish?”

“Six-thirty. So, I’ll be there by seven at the latest. I promise.”

A glance at the clock revealed it was only four. You swallowed back your paranoia, reasoning that you would spend most of the time packing anyway. “Ok great. Thanks. Are you sure your mom will be alright with it?”

“Of course. No one wants to be alone with everything that’s happened. She’ll understand.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

“Later!”

The silence that engulfed your house after the phone call ended was oppressive, broken up only by small creaks and taps which made you jump out of your skin. To combat this, you grabbed your old, beat-up Walkman from your school bag, tugging the headphones over your head and grabbing enough cassettes to last several hours of constant music. Then, to fill the silence between each song, you flicked the TV on to whatever channel had been left playing.  

Although muffled, you still heard the reporter, the one you had seen earlier today outside the school. Pepper…whatever her name was. You watched, partially interested whether you would make a cameo in the background.

“The state Bureau of Investigation has joined forces with local authorities to help catch what the Governor has called the most heinous crime ever committed in Westview.” Her teeth were an obnoxious gleaming white, her expression displaying an emotion not quite fit for the story she was currently presenting.

“The victim, seventeen-year-old Yelena Belova was found last night in her home…”

You tuned out to Pepper’s words as a picture filled the screen, a candid of Yelena, who somehow looked younger than you remembered. It hadn’t even been long since you had last seen her, yet the time that had passed felt like years. You wanted the snapshot to stay on screen forever, so you could commit every detail about her to memory. You couldn’t forget her. You refused.

Yelena stared at you from the TV screen as tears blurred your vision, the cassette flipping to an aptly melancholic song.

Then, as Pepper continued to drone on, the image flicked to a different one, this one of her official school picture. Despite everything, you burst out laughing at this, imagining how unhappy Yelena would’ve been to see this photo displayed on national television. She hated it. You didn’t blame her. The photo looked much too formal, an awkward contrast to the reality of who Yelena was. You wondered whether the news would report her life as it was, or if they’d spin the tale into something much more tragic: that she was a Straight-A student, destined for something great, her life so tragically cut short.

Probably.

With a roll of your eyes, you reached out for the TV remote, switching the channel until something fictional- or unrelated to Yelena came on, eventually settling on some old rerun of an TV show your dad liked to watch. The familiarity of it was enough that you could finally relax, pretending nothing out of the ordinary had occurred that day… It wasn’t long until your eyes fluttered close, your body sinking into the plush couch and to unconsciousness.  

A shrill ringing jolted you awake, resonating round the still-empty house. You thought it’d been minutes since you fell asleep, but a quick glance at the clock showed the time to be 6 pm. Confused by the loud intrusion, your gaze snapped around the room, now darkened by dusk.

The last pinkish hue of sunlight highlighted the phone perched on the side table and answered your unspoken question. Launching across the cushions and throwing your hand out, you grasped onto the object and brought it to your ear.

“Hello?” Your voice was hoarse having just woken up, and a slight annoyance crept into your tone.

“Hello, Y/N.” A man’s voice answered. Deep, raspy and entirely unfamiliar.

“Hi…” You answered hesitantly, perturbed by the fact he already knew your name. “Who is this?”

“You tell me.”

You frowned, lips quirking up in polite amusement. “I have no idea.” As much as you racked your brain for the possible culprit, his voice was too distorted to properly place.

“Scary night, isn’t it? With the murders and all…” He said instead, abruptly changing the topic to one you were infinitely less fond of. “It’s like right out of a horror movie or something.”

“Aha,” you nodded to yourself, reaching a conclusion. “Peter, you gave yourself away. You’re such a nerd.” Able to relax, at last, you collapsed back down on the sofa.

“Do you like scary movies, Y/N?”

“I like that thing you’re doing with your voice, Peter.” You replied instead. “Very sexy.”

“What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“Don’t start.” You scoffed, growing increasingly irritated at his commitment to the act. “You know I think they’re all shit.”

“And why is that?”

You sighed down the phoneline, listening to the silence as he waited for a response and debating whether it was truly worth answering or just hanging up. “Because they’re all the same. It’s always some stupid killer stalking some innocent girl who can’t act- who always runs up the stairs when she should be going out the front door. They’re ridiculous.”

Finishing the rant, you took a deep breath and were met by more silence.

And then, “Are you alone in the house?”

“That is so unoriginal. You disappoint me, Peter.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m not Peter.”

“So who are you?” Hot anger flushed against your chest as you sat up straight. Something here wasn’t quite right…

“The question is not who I am…” He paused ominously. “The question is where am I?”

Your boiling anger was immediately flushed by cold fear.

“So where are you?”

There was a deep, mocking laugh which crackled into your ear like static.

“Your front porch.”

You leapt up from your seat, determined to expose the prank for what it was and put an end to the insensitive joke. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you moved to the window and pulled aside the drapes, muttering into the phone, “Why would you call me from my front porch?”

“That’s the original part.”

You tried to angle your view through the window, unable to see all of the porch. “Oh yeah?” The porch seemed to be empty. “Well, I call your bluff.”

Feeling more secure in your belief, you went to the front door, unlocking the bolt, unsnagging the chain and pulling it open. As expected, the outside porch was completely empty, lit by a single light shining overhead, with little beyond but darkness.

“So where are you really?” You challenged at the mysterious caller’s silence.

“Right here.” He growled.

You peered closer into the darkness, into the thick shrubs growing on either side of the house and still seeing nothing. “Can you see me right now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What am I doing?” You stuck your middle finger into the air, waving it about in the air for a few seconds.

There was no answer.

“Good try, Peter.” You shook your head incredulously. “Bye now.”

“If you hang up, you’ll die just like Yelena.” The voice spat before you could pull the phone away from your ear.

You stopped dead in your tracks at his sudden seriousness, rendered speechless that Peter would say such a thing. Or perhaps, it really wasn’t him, which could only mean…

“Do you want to die, Y/N? Yelena certainly didn’t. She begged and cried, crawled across her carpet like the pathetic, insipid little…”

“Fuck you!” You interrupted, hands shaking and voice wavering. You hung up, stepped back inside the house and locked the door again.

Behind you, the hall closet door slammed open. You jumped, turning round in time to see a figure clad in black charging at you, ramming into your side. The phone flew out of your hand as you crashed to the ground, pinned down by the intruder wearing a distorted, white, ghostly mask. The type you had seen so many times, sold cheaply in costume stores and Halloween displays. Yet now, it actually was terrifying.

Your instincts finally surfaced as you kicked your foot into his leg, causing him to topple over. Wasting no time, you leapt to your feet and slammed into the front door, hands scrambling to unlock it again. Before you could escape, the figure rose, knife in hand, and grabbed onto your torso to drag you back. With survival mode having taken over, you were able to fight back with all of your strength, pulling, jerking and twisting to break free. You managed to free yourself from his grip, pushing the figure off you and sending him reeling into the living room.

Feeling fear tightening its hold on you, and seeing the futility of your escape, you made the daring move to turn and sprint up the stairs. The figure was hot on your heels as your heart pounded loudly in your ears. You reached the landing just as he lunged at you, grabbing a hold of your foot to slow you down. Panicking, you desperately grasped around you, nails scraping against the walls until they landed on a framed painting. Without sparing a glance at the image, you ripped it from the wall in a surge of might, swinging it behind you to smash against the figure’s skull.

You watched, wide-eyed as he staggered backwards, clutching at his head and tumbling down the stairs. Not wanting to waste the moment of respite you had bought for yourself; you raced into your bedroom and locked the door. There were a horrid couple of seconds of stillness throughout the house, broken only by your heavy breathing- and then, the banging began. A fist pounded against wood, and rattled the doorknob, as you frantically scanned your room.

You had left the phone downstairs and opted instead to dash over to the computer, fingers darting across the keyboard in a panicked frenzy. You spared a glance back at the door, seeing the figure had begun splintering the frame with his knife. Then, you turned back to the computer and hit send on a FAX message to 911 for help. As the blade continued its assault, cracking wood and sending splinters flying throughout your room, you typed even faster, trying to stay calm as you waited and watched a response appear on the screen.

STAY CALM. POLICE ENROUTE.

You let out a breath of slight relief, the message offering a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos… Only then, you realised that the figure had stopped. No more shards of wood were flying through the air, no blurred silver of the knife swinging around. You were alone now, accompanied by a haunting silence that had descended upon your home.

Suddenly, a noise at the window frame. You swivelled around, prepared to fight once more only to be met by Wanda, staring at you with surprise palpable in her expression.

“Oh, Wanda.” A sob racked your body as you shook uncontrollably, the reality of the situation finally dawning on you. “Please…God.” You brought a hand to your face, then flung it down, anxiously shifting your weight about as adrenaline kept you on your toes.

“I heard screaming, and the door was locked. Are you okay?” Wanda’s warm brown eyes flickered over your tense form, tears streaming endlessly and blurring your vision.

“He’s here. Trying to kill me…” You managed out.

Wanda’s face turned shocked as she pulled herself through the window with more urgency. As she did, a small black object fell from the back pocket of her jeans, landing against the carpet with a soft thud and drawing your attention downwards. Sat inconspicuously between the two of you was a sleek, compact cell phone. Any other day and it wouldn’t have made you concerned in the slightest… but now….

You stopped dead in your tracks, an icy sickness rising in your throat, something akin to distrust. You met Wanda’s gaze, which no longer held the comfort you sought.

Could it possibly be…? Had Wanda just tried to kill you?

Unwilling to face that possibility, you bolted.

You ignored Wanda calling after you, rushing to unlock the fractured bedroom door and tearing down the stairs, nearly slipping on the linoleum floor as you caught sight of the front door. Freedom. You skidded to a halt, ripped the chain off the door and urgently tugged it open.

“Y/N, wait!” Footsteps rapidly descended the stairs behind you as you dashed onto the front porch and were instantly blinded by flashes of blue and red.

Police cars screeched to a halt outside the house, their sirens blaring in the lonely night air. You paused, relief flooding your system at the first sign of safety. You were scared, lightheaded and dazed, but you were safe, at last.

“Y/N?” Wanda called out again, softer this time. Her voice betrayed a hint of disappointment, one you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back at. She was lingering in the doorway, red and blue lights exposing the innocent shock on her face. Guilt suffused throughout your body, which made you long to crash into her arms and lose yourself to the comfort. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, your mind flickering back to the phone that had fallen out of her pocket, convicting her as a potential suspect.

But could she really be? Your girlfriend, a murderer?

You flinched as Wanda took a cautious step towards you. Her face fell at the involuntary movement, and you were thankful to hear the car doors slamming shut behind you, followed by an all too familiar voice demanding for Wanda to freeze.

Tony Stark appeared next to you, gun loaded and aimed straight ahead as he approached you both, assessing the scene. He paused, gaze flickering over Wanda with suspicion.

“Y/L/N, what’s going on here?” He asked sternly.

Your eyes swept over Wanda, considering whether you were truly willing to hand her over so easily.

“I’m not sure.” You answered instead, your voice hoarse, but carrying an undeniable certainty.

“Please, baby.” Wanda implored you, the nickname sending a chill across your skin. Whether it was pleasant or not, you weren’t sure. “You know I would never.” Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head.

And you wanted to believe her, you really did.

But you couldn’t.

“I don’t know anything, Wanda. Not right now.”

...

The front yard of your house soon became a whirlwind of activity. You observed the scene disinterestedly from a distance, sat in the back of an ambulance following a check-up from the first responders. Apart from a couple of bruises and a cut on your arm, you had escaped unscathed from the attack and were told to consider yourself lucky. But you didn’t. You remained in a state of shock, as barely ten minutes ago, you had watched the cops handcuff your girlfriend and throw her into the back of a squad car.

It was hardly a lucky outcome.

At the present moment, she was their only suspect, and so you had let them take her, uncertain of anything except for a need for safety. To have someone answer for the attack, locked away so you could live and forget. Though the guilt stopped you from being able to do so.

Numbly, you watched as Tony and the sheriff, whose name you had yet to learn, started heading your way. They both had an awkward expression of pity, which was a rare sight on Tony Stark’s face and made you feel somehow worse. The sheriff stopped a couple of feet away, his pitying gaze never leaving you as Tony slumped down beside you.

“We’re seeing a lot of you today.” He patted your back reassuringly, though the gesture made you nauseous. “You gonna be able to come down to the station and talk to us in a bit?”

You tried to smile but failed. “Yeah…”

In the distance, a flash of purple caught your attention, weaving in and out of the maze of police cars and officers.

“Y/N?” Kate appeared, barrelling past an officer and jogging over to the ambulance. “What happened? Oh god…” She covered her mouth with her hand as she stared at the chaos currently surrounding your home.

“Sorry, you can’t be here,” The sheriff grasped onto her arm, prepared to drag her out. “This is an official crime scene.”

“It’s okay.” You quickly interrupted. “She was supposed to pick me up.”

“Yeah.” Kate’s eyes frantically darted between the intimidating figures. “Her dad’s out of town. She’s staying with me.”

Both officers looked questioningly over at you.

“I didn’t want to be home alone.”

“Well, I can see why.” Tony agreed after a beat of silence, then stood up to allow Kate to sit down next to you.

“Are you alright?” She asked, ignoring the obvious curiosity in her expression in lieu of checking you were okay first. It made your heart swell momentarily with a fondness for your friend, more concerned by your current state than the events that had just transpired.

You opened your mouth to respond, though never got the chance to as another set of vans arrived outside the house. They skidded to a halt with the same urgency as the first responders had, though with no markings indicating such on the side.

Tony sighed, staring at the vehicles disapprovingly. “Here come the vultures.”

Right on cue, the door to the van slid open and a figure clad in a red suit hopped down onto the road. She stood out from the rest of the onlookers, gazing round at the scene with a barely hidden interest, her vibrant clothing abrasive and eye-catching. The unmistakable colour of blood. Her face fell upon you at the opposite end of the yard, and you recognised her as the infamous Pepper Potts.

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.” Tony offered out his arm.

You hauled yourself up as Kate positioned herself beside you, shielding you from the oncoming media frenzy. You kept your head down as you drew closer to the reporter, praying she didn’t notice you walk past.

“Jesus! The camera, Happy- hurry!” She clicked her fingers at the cameraman, then you heard heels clicking as she jogged to catch up with you. “Excuse me!” She yelled out, almost elbowing Tony out of the way. You were exposed, seeing Pepper’s pearly whites, a microphone clutched in her hand and a camera following closely to be shoved in your face.  

“There are no statements to be made at this current moment.” Tony recovered, raising a hand over the lens of the camera. “Maybe get a life, stop stalking and come back at the appropriate-“

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N, right?” Her gaze softened momentarily as she ignored Tony.

You halted, perturbed by the fact she already knew your name.

“Some night.” She exclaimed when you didn’t speak. Pepper glanced back at the camera dramatically, then feigned concern. “Are you alright?”

You knew she was only asking to get a verbal response for the camera. You were visibly shaking, your face pale and eyes wide. Quite clearly you were not okay, and reluctant to provide her with an answer.

“What happened?” Pepper prompted at your silence.

“She’s not answering any questions right now. Just leave us alone, okay?” Kate interrupted, putting herself between you and Pepper and fixing her with a frown.

“It’s fine.” You sighed, waving a hand nonchalantly, though you felt anything but. “She’s just doing her job.”

“Exactly.” Pepper smiled, seemingly taken aback. “Now what can you tell us about the event that transpired here?”

You shrugged. “I was attacked.”

“And do you have any idea who was behind the attack, or perhaps what instigated it?”

“Well, I got a phone call from some creep.” You grimaced, unwilling to share the full details. “But otherwise, I have no idea.” You smiled, hoping that would be the end of Pepper’s interrogation, and perhaps she’d leave you alone.

You were wrong.

“And could this be related to the recent death of Yelena Belova? I’d heard the two of you were close.”

You narrowed your eyes, unable to ignore the emphasis she put on the word ‘close.’

“Or maybe that’s not quite the correct phrasing.” She pursed her lips in mock thoughtfulness. “Together?”

You tensed, your face going taut at the suggestion, then forced yourself to relax. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with-“

“So, you were in a relationship with Miss Belova?” She interrupted once again, seeming to already have reached a conclusion without your input.

“No, never anything as serious as that…” Your voice was strained now, as you tried desperately to correct the assumption.

“An unrequited-“

“No!” It was your turn to intervene, hopefully putting an end to Pepper’s outlandish theories. “Nothing really happened, and it was so long ago-“

“Perhaps you resented Yelena for never wanting to be with you.” Pepper continued, spinning your words into a wild accusation. “Perhaps, it even drove you to murder- one you’re attempting to cover up now by faking an attack.”

“Faking?” Kate cut in incredulously.

“That’s bullshit.” You exclaimed, unable to suppress your slowly building rage. “And you know it.”

“Well, I’m just throwing ideas out,” she shrugged infuriatingly, then turned on Tony, “seeing as the police have yet to make any official statement or provide the concerned citizens of Westview with any reassurances.”

“We’re… working on it.” Tony stuttered out, caught off guard by the sudden criticism.

“Well, you better get working fast, officer.” She scoffed. “And it’s hard to ignore the relation between both attacks.” She looked back at the camera. “Having shared a brief, intimate relationship between two young adults of the same sex. Are these attacks politically motivated? Religious, perhaps? Maybe rather than focusing on the personal motive, the killer intends to send out a message of-“

“Fuck you.” You interrupted, clenching your jaw to keep you from saying anything worse.

Pepper looked at you in disbelief. “I think you ought to watch your language, young lady. Your moral character seems to have already drawn enough attention.”

In a blurred, unexpected instant, you brought your fist forward and smashed it hard into Pepper Pott’s face. The impact sent Pepper reeling backwards, knocking into Happy and his ridiculously expensive camera as they both tumbled to the pavement.

“Hey! Hey.” Tony outstretched his arm, physically blocking you. “That’s enough. I think it’s time we go.”

You took a deep, satisfied breath seeing the two piled on the ground, then allowed yourself to be tugged along and into the back of Tony’s squad car. You didn’t care if Pepper managed to spin the events and make you look bad, or if it worsened your reputation. It had been worth it to wipe the smug smile from her face.

...

“God, I loved it!” Kate laughed and threw herself back onto the bed. “Oh, Y/N, you need to be careful, your bad moral proclivities and your bad language will be the death of you!”

You perched on the other side of Kate’s bed, chuckling at her bad impression of Pepper.

“And then BAM! Bitch went down.” Kate thumped her fist into her palm and laughed some more.

“Talking of…” Tony appeared in the doorway, clutching a bag of ice. “I thought you might want some ice for that right hook.”

He tossed the bag of ice over, which you caught and placed over your reddening fist, wincing at the bruise already forming.

“I’ve got two officers stationed outside the house all night, so if anything happens, they’ll be here” He continued, clearly exhausted and ready to head home after the long night.

You nodded and thanked him. “Any word on reaching my dad?” You quickly asked before he disappeared. You had given the cops your uncle’s number, and despite the incessant number of times it’d been rung, they had received no answer so far.

“Afraid not, kid. But we’ll let you know when we do.”

“If you do…” You muttered bitterly. “Pretty shitty timing for my uncle to fall so seriously ill.”

“Or maybe it’s all related?” Kate chimed in, looking conspiratorially between the two of you. “Maybe the killer planned it all…”

You thought for a moment. “Nah. My uncle has heart problems, it’s probably to do with that.”

“Real great theory Kate.” Tony snarked. “Maybe you should try submitting it to Pepper Pott’s investigatory website.”

“She has a website?” You scoffed at the idea.

“Yeah.” Tony nodded slowly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“And how do you know?” Kate smirked. “You a fan, Stark?”

“Well, it is my job to investigate.”

You and Kate shared a knowing look.

“And if that investigation happens to involve a ridiculously attractive, if slightly intense journalist, then so be it.” He shrugged, brazenly unashamed.

Suddenly, the phone stationed on the bedside table started ringing, sending a jolt of panic coursing through you. Its shrill sound echoed uncomfortably in the bedroom as Tony quirked an eyebrow, and Kate looked at the item as though it were going to bite should she answer the call.

You were all slightly paranoid, to say the least.

“I guess I should get that…” Kate gulped and reached an uncertain hand out to grasp the phone. “It’s probably just Peter… or someone.”

You instinctively knew that wasn’t the case. Peter would have an idea of what was happening as Tony was hardly discrete when talking to his nephew, and the only other person it could possibly be was Pietro… You shuddered at that possibility. That he might blame you for accusing Wanda. That he would be angry.

Kate took a breath. “Hello?”

You didn’t need to hear the person on the other end, Kate’s face was telling enough. Her eyes flickered over to you as she answered, “yeah, she’s right here.”

And then, the device was being handed over to you by your terrified-looking friend. Your brain screamed not to take it, rather pass it on to Tony, but your heart reasoned that if it truly was the killer, then Wanda’s name would be cleared, and that was something you couldn’t pass up. Besides, nobody would be able to identify the voice except you.

Your sweaty palm enclosed the phone and brought it slowly to your ear. “Who is this?” You forced out, sending a last-minute prayer that it might just be your dad, finally getting back in contact.

“Hello Y/N.” The same, raspy voice taunted.

Hot tears immediately welled up in your vision as the memory came rushing back anew. “No.” You murmured, covering your face as though to block out this horrid reality. The killer was committed, and somehow knew you would be here. It was a horrifying prospect.

But at least it wasn’t Wanda…

“Poor Wanda,” the anonymous voice sang out, “innocent and locked away in a prison cell for the night. You know this kind of thing goes on permanent records, right?”

“Hey!” Tony boomed out, conclusive in his decision as he stormed across the room and snatched the phone from you. “I’m afraid Miss Y/L/N has had to dash off, can I take a message?”

The clock in Kate’s room ticked away, marking five seconds of silence before Tony spoke again.

“Or maybe leave an email. Hotmails really taking off these days, it’ll save money on your phone bill.”

You heard the telltale buzz as the line went dead, prompting Tony to slam the phone back down and mutter “damn.”

A cold sense of dread settled over the room, like the killer was somehow watching you now, ever present, ever aware of your whereabouts. But it simply wasn’t possible… The only people who knew you were here were Kate, her mother, Tony, and the rest of the police force. Unless someone had simply guessed, meaning it had to be somebody close to you, who knew you well enough to anticipate your every move.

That prospect was no less concerning, and so you resigned yourself to trying to sleep that night without sparing a thought to the perilous situation you had found yourself in.

...

The atmosphere in school was like nothing you had ever seen before. The corridors seemed narrower, constricting all around you, the students inhabiting them more rowdy than usual. Classes dragged on longer than necessary, and you were unable to focus on what the teachers were droning on about. You were paranoid, too preoccupied by the knowing glances constantly being thrown back at you to care about anything else. The likelihood that the killer was someone you knew kept replaying in your mind, suspicion lacing every interaction with your friends and peers at school. Hell, even the teachers.

And the worst part was that you kept seeing that damned mask everywhere.

To the people who had no connection to you or Yelena, this was the most exciting thing to happen in Westview in their lifetime, and they certainly weren’t going to miss out on the festivities that some were partaking in. As you walked between classes, figures in the same cheap, ghostly Halloween mask sprinted up and down the corridors, chasing one another and reenacting what for you was fresh trauma.

“This is a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.” You confessed to Kate after witnessing the third Ghost-faced imposter.

She frowned, equally as perturbed by the way the school reacted to such disturbing events. “I want you to meet me here right after class, okay?” She demanded, unwilling to separate seeing the state you were in.

You nodded and smiled, then went to reassure her you would be fine, but something more important caught your attention.

“Shit, what is she doing here?” Kate exclaimed softly.

You were both transfixed, helplessly watching as the Maximoff twins were making their way over to you. Wanda looked tired, that much was clear. You hadn’t given any previous thought to the fact she would likely be released following the phone call to you last night, let alone expect her to make an appearance in school- probably only to see you.

In contrast to Wanda’s exhaustion, Pietro looked angry, and you prayed that anger wasn’t directed at you, though you wouldn’t blame him if it was. Noticing this, Kate went ahead to grab onto Pietro’s shoulders and try slow the warpath he was on. While he was momentarily distracted, Wanda came to a stop in front of you, her eyes cautiously seeking out your own. It was strange to see her after everything that had occurred, made more surreal by the fact that it was in such a mundane setting.

“Hey Y/N. Can we talk a sec?” She spoke so fast, but softly, as though afraid she was about to be dragged away once again.

You couldn’t hold the eye contact and flickered back to Kate in a silent cry for help.

“You know, if I were accused of carving up someone and attacking my girlfriend, I’d take the opportunity to skip school.” She called to Wanda warily.

“Hey, go easy, Kate.” Pietro interrupted. “She didn’t do it.” You could practically see him gritting his teeth together in an attempt to stop himself from saying worse.

You paid them no mind, summoning the resolve to turn back to your girlfriend. “Fine, five minutes.” Glancing around at the several unfamiliar pairs of eyes watching interestedly, you added, “Girl’s bathroom, now.”

Clutching your textbooks to your chest, you marched through the hallways with Wanda in tow. She didn’t say a word until you had shut the door behind you and checked every stall, confirming that the bathroom was actually empty.

“You… don’t think it was me, right?” Wanda maintained a distance from you, nervously wringing her hands.

You took a deep breath, reasoning that surely it couldn’t be. “No.”

Wanda nodded, managing out a tearful smile.

“I don’t think it was you… just… oh god.” You felt yourself begin to cry, reliving what you had felt at the time of the attack, and unable to find the words to explain. “Someone tried to kill me…” You sniffed, snatching a wad of toilet paper from one of the toilet stalls to dry your face.

“I know, the police say I scared him off.” Wanda looked at you, so unconditionally in love with you that it made your chest ache. “It wasn’t me, Y/N.”

“I know.” You repeated, firmer this time. “The killer called me again last night at Kate’s house.”

“See, it couldn’t have been me. I was in jail, remember?” Wanda reminded, her caring façade temporarily dropping in lieu of proving her innocence. “But shit, how did he know you would be there?” She asked quickly.

“I don’t know.” You bit down on your lip, shaking your head. “But I’m sorry, for accusing you. I wasn’t in my right mind…”

“It’s fine, baby.” Wanda tentatively closed the space between you, wrapping her arms loosely around your shaking form. She pulled you in, resting your chin on her shoulder. “I would’ve done the same.”

Her lips pressed gently against your neck, then enclosed around the skin and sucked lightly. Her grip around your body suddenly tightened, the touch turning from sweet to lustful so fast it made your head spin. She trailed her mouth further up, leaving your skin damp against the cold air and making you shiver. The usual heat that accompanied her contact was nowhere to be found, and it abruptly dawned upon you that this was wrong.

“Wanda.” You murmured in an attempt to reprimand her.

Taking it as a moan, she continued on, her touch growing tighter, almost painfully.

“Wan-“ You pushed against her, only to find she wouldn’t budge. “Wanda, stop!” You felt claustrophobic in her arms and shoved her suddenly backwards.

She stumbled away, looking at you with a mix of hurt and shock.

“You still don’t trust me?” She could hardly contain the frustration in her voice, emphasised by her heavy breathing and burning glare.

“No, that’s not true.”

“Then what is it?” She spat. “You don’t want to be around me. Is there somebody else?”

“No!”

“You’re missing Yelena?”

“Yes- but as a friend!” You argued, desperate for a chance to speak, to explain yourself. “I just, I don’t want that right now.” You flailed your hands around, hoping she got the message in spite of your ineloquent explanation.

“I’m being too pushy.” She wasn’t as angry now but still had disappointment palpable in her expression.

“No, it’s just- it’s me, Wanda.” You sighed. “I need time, and considering everything that’s just happened, I think that’s more than reasonable.”

“It is. You’re right” Wanda exhaled and turned away from you. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

Despite everything, you still hated seeing her like this, and reached out to grab hold of her hands. “And I’m sorry for thinking you were the killer. I regretted it as soon as I said it.”

Wanda nodded slowly, staring down at your intertwined hands. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the bathroom door slamming open. You quickly broke apart, and she looked up at you, slightly sadly, before muttering, “See you soon, Y/N.”

And with that, Wanda was gone, leaving you reeling in your thoughts with tear tracks still fresh on your cheeks. You opted to sit in one of the stalls and regain your composure before heading to your next class, listening numbly to the sound of people coming and going from the bathroom for the next ten or so minutes. Screw being late.

You were just about to finally leave when two new voices entered the room, both vaguely familiar but not enough for you to make your presence known.

“What if she did it?” You heard one say, voice ever so recognisable. “What if Y/N killed Yelena?”

“And why would she do that?” A second asked, exasperated but curious.

“Don’t you remember they used to be a thing? Maybe Yelena ended it and Y/N never got over the rejection.”

“But she’s with that weird girl now- right? Pietro’s brother.”

You frowned to yourself. You knew Pietro was much more popular than his sister, but the school’s general distaste towards Wanda had always upset you.

“So why would Yelena matter anymore?” The girl continued.

“Because Yelena was cool, and fun, and Y/N knew that being with her was probably the peak of her life. Waldo- or whatever she’s called- is such a downgrade.”  

The other voice laughed cruelly. “That’s true. I think I’d kill myself.”

“Exactly, but teen suicide is out this year and homicide is a much healthier therapeutic expression, hence, Y/N killed Yelena.” She punctuated the last few words with a manicured nail tapping against the porcelain sink.

The reverberating click made you shiver uncomfortably, listening to their dumb theories and trying your best not to take it personally. But- that voice, it had finally clicked into place: it was Agatha. She was notoriously a wild gossip, still, you never knew she had it out for you like this.

“God maybe you’re right.”

You heard their footsteps head over towards the exit, their annoying voices diminishing as the door slammed shut. You were left in silence, marked only by water dripping somewhere from a leaky pipe, and the sound of wind whistling from the cracked transom above the door. It almost sounded like a whisper, luring you out of the safety of the locked stall.

Catching sight of your reflection in the mirror, you recognised evident tear streaks down your cheeks, accompanied by a general expression of annoyance. The whole situation, and the way your school had turned it into a joke, left you alternating constantly between resentment and anxiety. But there was no time to dwell on it, as you heard that dreadful whisper again…

“Y/N…” The word struck you like a nail through the eye. A stark confirmation that someone else was in here with you. But all the stalls appeared to be empty.

You could only hear the sound of your own rapid breathing, that same rhythmic drip and the haunting whistle of the wind, leaving you to wonder whether your brain was simply playing tricks on you in this tense state.

There was a long, morose pause, and then, “It’s me, Y/N.”

“Fuck no.” Terror flooded your face as you spun on your heel, noting that to get to the exit, you would have to walk past the row of stalls. You took a reluctant step forward, ducking under the stall to see nothing, then the next, and the next, until finally, the last stall. It was empty at first, and you considered that maybe you were really just going crazy.

But then, two feet stepped down from the toilet onto the floor in the final stall. You were paralysed, face drawn tight as the door began to creak open, revealing Ghostface clutching the same knife as before.

You swivelled on your feet, crashing through the door but feeling a hand grip onto your shoulder and tug you back. Bracing yourself for the eventual feeling of a knife digging into your back, you ducked out of the grip and barrelled straight back into him, sending you both crashing to the slippery bathroom floor. You were able to launch yourself up before the attacker, and launched yourself through the exit before he could grab hold of you.

Without looking back, you sprinted through the hallway, ignoring the questioning look of a teacher you passed and heading straight for the principal’s office. You knew that only the top authority would be able to help you out. Nick Fury was perhaps the most intimidating teacher you had ever known, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he were to track down and kill Ghostface himself.

You burst through the door to his office, being met by two students holding ghost masks in the middle of a berating.

“He’s here… I saw him.” You sobbed out, hysterical but unashamed of your reaction. “He’s here…”

Fury rushed towards you, placing a comforting hand on either shoulder to ground you. “Where? What happened?”

You gulped back a sob, attempting to form some comprehendible recount of the events. But you couldn’t bring yourself to. All that replayed in your mind was the realisation that this was your new reality. There was someone after you, who clearly wouldn’t stop until you were dead.

Fury gave up on getting any coherent answer from you and called the cops, who arrived promptly having been stationed outside. They searched the girl’s toilets and found no evidence of any attacker lurking there, but assured you full protection from now on, starting with Tony Stark escorting both you and Kate home immediately.  She was pulled from class, and you were told to wait outside while they finished one last sweep of the building.

Sitting next to Kate on a bench, you were finally able to catch your breath, and took the opportunity to briefly explain to Kate what had happened, refusing to dwell on your conversation with Wanda, or the rather unpleasant end of it.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one listening.

“Attacked, again?” Pepper revealed herself from inside an inconspicuous-looking van, clearly having been waiting and watching for something to happen.

“You were spying on us?” Kate exclaimed incredulously. “Surely that’s against the law…”

“No, just good journalism.”

“Hey, hey!” Tony arrived at the perfect moment, clicking his fingers at Pepper. “You, you’re not supposed to be here.” As much as you trusted Tony for protection, you could see how his eyes trailed over Pepper distractedly.

“For a police officer, you don’t have the best focus,” Pepper smirked, seeing his wandering gaze.

You rolled your eyes at the interaction, feeling a flush of anger towards Tony.

“Well, I’d say it’s because you’re much prettier in person.” He replied, ever the flirt.

Pepper was about to respond, but never got the chance to. There was a sudden crackle in the air, signifying the PA system had sparked to life.

Nick Fury’s sombre tone filled the air, as you all stopped to listen. “Your attention, please. Due to the recent events that have occurred and until it comes to a resolve, effective immediately, all classes are suspended till further notice.”

Despite being outside the building, you heard a schoolwide cheer from inside, imagining the shared joy amongst everyone regardless of the dire circumstances.

“The Westview Police Department has also asked me to announce a city-wide curfew beginning at 6pn.” Fury finished, to which you heard a palpable boo from inside.

“Boy, you people sure do make a fuss over a serial killer.” Pepper sighed humorously.

“Technically, not a serial killer yet.” Tony folded his arms. “Gotta knock off a couple more to get that title, so he’s just a plain old murderer.”

“For now-“ You snarked, feeling your patience draining away from you.

The bell rang out, ending school for the foreseeable future, proceeded by the stampede of footsteps as students rushed out of the building, celebrating their early release. You and Kate stood up, ready to go when you caught sight of Wanda and Pietro.

Unwilling to leave things as awkwardly as you had, you told Tony to wait for a minute and jogged over to her, with Kate following behind.

“Is this cool or what?” Pietro appeared enthused by the sudden closure of the school, slinging an arm around Kate’s shoulders as he always did.

“For once, Piet, drop it.” She chastised.

“Okay,” he rolled his eyes, “but whatever you did, the entire student body thanks you.” He said, nodding at you with an impish smile.

“What happened?” Wanda questioned, glancing between you and her brother. “Were you attacked again?”

“Yeah, right after you left.”

Her mouth fell agape, then shifted into a harsh line. “And you don’t think I did-“

“No!” You were quick to assure before her concern was fully voiced. “I don’t.”

“Well, to celebrate this impromptu fall break, and Y/N admitting my sister’s innocence, I propose a party tonight.”

“What?” Kate turned to her boyfriend, aghast by the suggestion.

“Tonight, our house.” He confirmed, winking at Wanda.

“Are you serious?” You laughed in disbelief at his uncaring attitude.

“Our parents are out of town. It’ll be like my hurricane bash last year.” He stated, trying his best to convince the two of you that this was a good idea. “Nothing extreme, just a few of us, hangin’.”

“I don’t know Piet.” Even Wanda looked unconvinced, though Kate seemed to be warming to the idea.

“I guess safety in numbers…” Kate turned to you, seeking approval. “What do you think, Y/N?”

In spite of everything happening, you agreed that you would be safer in a larger group of friends. The police had hardly been effective in stopping the attacks so far, and Tony’s presence did little to assuage your constant fear. Not to mention that you rather owed it to the Maximoff twins, having unfairly convicted them before considering all the facts.

With this realisation, you nodded timidly. “Yeah, sure… whatever.”

“Alright.” Pietro rubbed his hands together connivingly. “See you guys at 8 pm sharp. Bring food.”

Wanda smiled at you warmly for the first time since this whole situation had begun. It gave you hope, motivation to go through with this party tonight. You had missed the genuine happiness in her expression and would do anything to earn back her adoration, to make her forget any of your accusations and assumptions.

Still, as Kate linked her arm with yours and spoke continuously about the plans for tonight, you couldn’t help but feel that this was about to be a huge mistake…

...

As predicted, Tony was far from happy about the party organised that night, giving you a lecture on all the possible dangers as he drove you back to Kate’s. But you knew him and knew that he was way too concerned about his reputation to cancel the get-together. He dropped you home with one final warning, asked for the address just in case, and then left you for the evening. To your relief, officers were already stationed outside the Bishop household, though it would make sneaking away for the night a lot harder.

Still, Kate seemed undeterred, already applying makeup and straightening her hair by six.

“Are we seriously doing this?” You muttered, laying on the bed staring impassively up at the monotonous white ceiling.

“Yes, we are.” She affirmed. “Because, trust me, you’ll be safer surrounded by a load of drunk, pubescent boys. Hell, they’ll probably track down and kill Ghostface themselves.”

“And what if Ghostface is already there.” You sat bolt upright, the image of his infamous mask flipping to the forefront of your imagination.

“Well, we’ll see that obnoxious costume from a mile away.”

“Out of disguise, Kate.” You sighed, collapsing inwards on yourself. Anxiety was sweeping across your body, a cold breeze which rendered you paranoid and entirely unwilling to attend the party tonight.

“Then make sure you’re never by yourself.” She answered quickly, eager to soothe your worries. You could tell she was excited for the night, always one to stay at a party even after everyone else left. “I promise I won’t leave your side, even if Pietro wants to make-out or whatever.”

You grimaced at that image.

“And I bet Wanda won’t want to leave your side.” She added. “That girl is crazy about you, and probably willing to throw herself in front of the killer to save you.”

“Not after how I’ve treated her…” You murmured, recalling the hurt she seemed to be holding onto.

“Nobody can blame you for that, Y/N.” Kate abandoned her place in front of the mirror to sit beside you. “I would’ve done the same if it’d been me and Pietro.”

“But it’s not just that. I can’t relax around her.” You threw your hands up exasperatedly and exhaled, debating whether to bring the topic up or not. “Whenever she touches me, I freak out.”

There was a pause of silence, in which your words swallowed you into a pit of embarrassment, one you were about to retract.

“So what? You have a few intimacy issues, and all this murdering probably doesn’t help.” Kate shrugged. “No big deal. You’ll get there eventually. And Wanda will wait.”

“But she’s already been so patient with me, Kate.”

“Yeah, It’s Wanda. Your girlfriend. Probably the most caring, perfect person I can imagine for you to be with. And virginity intact or not, I’m sure she won’t let you get murdered.”

You snorted, submitting to Kate’s humour over your constant doubts. “You’re right.”

Three knocks against the door interrupted your conversation. You held your breath, inexplicably tense despite knowing that murderers were hardly the type to knock before entering a room.

“You guys decent in there?” The muffled yet unmistakable voice of Tony Stark called out.

“Yeah…” Kate answered as the handle twisted open. “Hey…” She greeted confusedly.

You frowned, equally unable to understand why Tony had returned…unless… “Have you guys heard anything from my dad?” You asked desperately.

Tony shook his head. “Afraid not, kid.”

You sunk back into the bed, any hopes of familial safety having been immediately squandered.

“But good news is you’ve got me as your personal bodyguard tonight.” He finished, folding his arms.

“What?” Both you and Kate echoed at the same moment.

“I took the evening shift stationed outside the house, so no need to sneak out, but” he held up a stern finger, “only on the condition that I go with.”

“No.” Kate screwed her face up. “You’ll ruin the whole night.”

“Firstly, offensive.” He pointed at Kate with a sneer. “Secondly, I’ll be staying outside the house unless there’s screams and such.”

“Fine, deal.” You waved off the list, indifferent about his attendance.

“Thirdly…” He continued. “Pepper is coming with.”

“What!”

“She’ll definitely ruin the night,” Kate repeated.

“No Pepper, no deal- and I tell the police about this little rendezvous planned for tonight.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s unfair” But seeing no compromise, glanced at Kate and saw the same muted displeasure. “But fine. Why does she even want to come?”

“Says it’s a journalistic hunch.” He shrugged, nonchalantly leaning against the doorway.

“And why do you want her there, Stark?” Kate sent a look your way, already well aware of why Tony would want the company.

“I thought a stakeout might be a good first date.” He answered in full honesty.

“It’s not.” You shook your head in disbelief at his antics. “Still, as long as you keep your business separate from ours, I see no issues here.”

“Alright.” His lips drew into a taut line. “Pleasure doing business with you both.”

...

The irony of showing up to an illegal, out-of-curfew house party in a cop car didn’t escape you. Nor did it make you feel any less uncomfortable. The Maximoff’s house was right on the edge of town, surrounded by nothing but empty fields as far as the eye could see. It was isolated, perfect for parties but likely terrible for your own safety. There were no streetlights to illuminate potential Ghostface killers, and with the sun setting in the distance, you doubted the orange hue that currently permeated the sky would stay.

The only other source of light came from inside the house itself, accompanied by a general ruckus and music blaring. You were late, and as such, a gathering of cars were already littered across the driveway, though you doubted their owners were intending on staying sober. At that moment, you decided that you would certainly not be getting a lift home with anyone besides Tony tonight. The celebratory atmosphere from school closing early still lingered in the air, meaning that tonight was probably going to get way out of hand. Especially if Pietro had anything to do with it.

Tony dropped you off with a word of warning, then pointed out where he and Pepper would be stationed for the night, further down the driveway and out of sight. You shuddered at the mention of Pepper’s name, or rather, the fact that she was your line of defence for the night.

As you and Kate approached the front door, which was left open for anyone to enter, the house loomed over you menacingly. Its shadow fell across your face, blocking out the last rays of sunset and encompassing you in artificial lighting. You rarely visited Wanda at home, finding her parents were often absent and your dad refusing to drive you over there. As such, your attention was instantly diverted upon stepping foot inside. Your vision traced up the staircase, wondering whether it would lead you to Wanda’s room- a place you had surprisingly never ventured to.

Resolving yourself to finding the room, you turned to inform Kate of your plans, only to see she had disappeared. Most of the activity was coming from the kitchen, where you guessed she was greeting people, entirely unaware that you had already slipped away.

Shrugging off the momentary irritation at her having broken her promise so soon, you went over to the staircase and began to climb upstairs. A couple of people were standing on the landing, engaged in a heated discussion away from the rest of the party. They didn’t even notice you slip past.

All the doors were shut, and all looked identical, though you remembered Wanda having mentioned that her room faced the fields behind the house. So, you went towards the door that matched her description, twisting open the handle slowly as to warn anyone inside of your arrival.

You guessed correctly, and were met by a bedroom littered with posters and pictures- some of you. The overhead light was off, leaving a string of fairy lights scattered across the walls to brighten an otherwise dingy room. The air was still and dusty. Previously undisturbed particles swirled about your like an ocean, parting only for you. A scented candle burned peacefully on the windowsill, the smell reminding you of your girlfriend. A sudden ache arose in your chest, encouraging you to leave the room and find her.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” A stern voice sounded from the doorway.

You jumped, your heart beating an irregular pace as you swivelled round to see Pietro. The light of the corridor filled the space around him, casting an ominous silhouette over the bedroom. His expression was angry- serious, and unmoving, so far from the Pietro that you knew and liked that it made you exceedingly uncomfortable.

“Sorry.” You stuttered out, taken aback by his newfound seriousness. “I was just leaving- looking for Wanda.”

“She’s just gone out to get more drinks.” His rigid features relaxed a modicum. “She’ll be back soon.”

You watched as he held the door open, ushering you out. More than willingly, you headed over, only stopping once the door had shut behind you as a sudden realisation struck. “But she can’t drive?”

Pietro paused for a second. “There’s a bus to town every half hour, the stop is at the end of the road.”

“She’s getting the bus alone at this hour?” Fear began to rise throughout you at the image of your girlfriend trapped with a bunch of strangers, and perhaps a murderer. “Also, there’s a curfew.”

Pietro scoffed, his signature smirk returning as he brushed you off. “You worry too much. She’ll be fine!”

You found yourself quickly irritated by his casual demeanour, and snapped, “You have a car, why didn’t you go?”

“Because I am the life of this party, and I’m still a learner driver.” He shook his head, turning away from you to make his way back downstairs.

“That hasn’t stopped you before.” You yelled after him, though it was too late.

Pietro skipped back downstairs, and you reluctantly followed.

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter squeezed through the doorway, stacks of VHS tapes balanced precariously between his arms. “How are you doing?” He asked eagerly.

You dashed forwards to grab onto some of his video tapes before the stack fell down. “I’m alright, all things considered…”

“Thanks- and yeah, I’m surprised you’re here.” He looked at you, concerned. “But I thought to try and keep things calm, we’d make it a Blockbuster night.” He explained, indicating to the VHS collection he had travelled with.

You glanced down at the top three he had passed to you, recognising all the titles as horror films. “You mean a Jamie Lee Curtis night? How come she’s in all these movies?”

Peter placed the tapes down, gaping at you. “Cause she’s the Scream Queen!”

You scoffed. “With that set of lungs, she should be a-“

“Y/N!” Kate dashed over to you. “Where did you go? One minute I turned around and you were there, the next-“

“Oh, don’t worry, I was just exploring the house.” You interrupted, putting a stop to her panic.

“Ok thank god.” She sighed. “For a second there I was worried you’d been Ghostface’d”

You tried to smile but struggled still to find the humour in all this. “Not yet.”

“Not ever.” She stated, then became distracted by Peter’s VHS collection. You watched Kate enthusiastically flip through the familiar titles and found yourself wondering whether she had ever seen the side of Pietro you had just been exposed to. You couldn’t imagine she would’ve stayed with him if she had…

Despite the unsteady start to the party, you allowed yourself to be enveloped by the mundane sort of satisfaction that came with these kinds of gatherings. You ended up wedged between Peter and Kate on a disturbingly discoloured sofa, with Pietro on the other side of Kate. Several times you noted him glancing towards you, though you chose to ignore it and focus on the movie Peter had selected instead.

More familiar faces started to settle throughout the living room to watch the film, all sharing piles of junk food, beer and a joint occasionally passed around. For the first time since everything had kicked off, you felt normal, safe, and enjoying the company of friends. However, the longing for Wanda’s presence never ceased, and your eyes constantly darted towards the foyer, awaiting her inevitable return.

An hour or so later you began to worry that Wanda had yet to return.

Seeing your discomfort, Pietro tapped Kate’s leg. “There’s a bottle of wine in the basement that my parents were saving for a special occasion, why not grab that so Y/N can finally relax.” He fixed you with a pointed stare. “I can feel her anxiety from here. It’s giving me Ghostface blue balls.”

“Fine.” Kate rolled her eyes and stood up. “I’ll be right back.” She gave you a shyly comforting smile, then disappeared as instructed.

Pietro spread out to fill the gap, letting out a cocky, relaxed sigh as he glanced at you, knowingly mocking your anxious demeanour. On the other side, you felt Peter tense, noticing he was observing with a disapproving frown plastered across his face. Despite his unthreatening, wholly innocent appearance, you trusted Peter more than you did Pietro, and as such, sidled closer towards him. You weren’t sure where this sudden distrust of Wanda’s brother came from, nor were you willing to dwell on it. Instead, you fixed your attention to the TV screen ahead, numbly watching to dull your racing thoughts.

Before you knew it, the credits had started rolling. As Peter stood up to pause the tape, you realised suddenly that the vast majority of those crowding the house had vanished. All general ruckus had ceased, the party having come to an end much quicker than you expected. Usually, Pietro would ensure the party lasted until some ungodly hour, yet to your surprise, he had remained seated next to you the entire time, silent except for his occasional comments on the film. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Wait.” You shot bolt upright abruptly, another concern springing to mind. “Where’s Kate?”

Pietro hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” He stood up, looming over you, then clapped his hands together as if something had only just occurred to him. “Sometimes the basement door gets stuck!” He exclaimed, then laughed manically. “She’s probably been stuck down here this whole time! I’ll go get her.” With that, he leapt over the sofa, thudding against the creaky wooden floor and jogging out of view.

With his exit, only you and Peter were left in the living room. He was crouched by the TV, returning the VHS tape to its rightful box, reorganising his collection.

“Peter.” Your voice shook, a reflection of the fear that currently filled your body. “Something’s not right here.”

He turned to you, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean.” You threw your hands up, exasperated at his nonchalance. “Why’s it so quiet? Pietro’s parties usually like this.”

Peter furrowed his face. “Well, I’d guess most people are worried about the curfew.” He turned back to his tapes, selecting another to put on. “Overbearing parents… no buses running… They probably wanted to get going before it got too late.”

“Yeah but…” You exhaled irritably, wrapping your arms around your form for protection. “It just doesn’t feel right here… Like where’s Kate? Where’s Wanda? She left to get drinks before I even got here, and still isn’t back.”

Peter eyed you up. “If you want to go, we can leave now?” He stood up, expression growing grave with concern. In the dim lighting, shadows fell menacingly across his face, his posture tall and stiff, his care morphing into indifference. Don’t trust him, your instincts screamed. Don’t trust anyone.

He must’ve seen your distrust, the hardness in his gaze melting slightly “Y/N…?

“Y/N!” A different voice called.

You swivelled to the left to see Wanda lingering in the doorway, eyes flickering between you and Peter.

“Is everything alright, baby?” She stepped towards you, a softness in her outstretched arms which you craved desperately.

“Yeah.” You took her hand, interlocking your warm palm with hers, cold from the evening chill. You gulped, sensing Peter still watching you closely, creepily. “Can we go up to your room? Please?”

She grinned. “Of course. Seems I’ve missed the party anyway.” She scrunched her nose at you, then tugged you forward and lead you towards the staircase.

You spared one final glance back at Peter, who stood alone and vulnerable in the open space, a mix of jealousy and fear palpable on his face.

...

You lingered awkwardly in the centre of Wanda’s room before deciding to perch on the bed, turning to face her. She leant back against the door, and you heard it click shut, sealing your fate.

“So…” She started, then trailed off. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a selfish shit this whole time and I’m-“

“No.” You waved her off, settling into the comfort of the bed. For the first time that evening, you finally felt at peace, unwilling to be reminded of anything that might stoke your paranoia. “I’m the one that’s been over-dramatic and self-absorbed with all this- just…” You shifted uncomfortably. “I just feel like we haven’t properly had time to talk since this all began.”

“And that’s totally okay.” She assured quickly, practically leaping across the room to sit down next to you. “I don’t blame you.” She took your hands from where you’d been wringing them in your lap, dragging them to rest on her thighs. “I could never blame you.” She admitted, quietly, green eyes gleaming fondly as she stared up at you through her lashes, the gesture pure despite the layer of smoky eyeshadow that encircled her gaze. “Because… I love you.”

You gasped involuntarily, stunned by the confession. Your lips parted to form the words she desired to hear back, yet never got a chance to speak as her mouth landed upon yours. The kiss was soft and hesitant, her hair brushing softly against your jaw as she shifted closer. To rectify the awkward angle, you parted momentarily, swinging yourself over her body to settle in her lap. Immediately, she resumed kissing you, nipping at your bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth, tongue soothing the pain then slipping further to brush against your own. You couldn’t help but moan.

In response, Wanda allowed herself to fall backwards against the bed as you settled on top, straddling her, feeling hands slip underneath your baggy jumper and towards the clasp of your bra. You pressed yourself against her harder, encouraging her fingers to twist urgently and unclasp the strap. Hurriedly, you backed away to shove it off, tugging your jumper overhead with it. Without warning, she grabbed hold of your waist and flipped you over, reversing your position. She quickly did the same, removing her top to reveal a smooth expanse of pale skin. You longed to kiss every freckle, and appreciate every mark, yet found yourself paralysed in admiration.

Wanda smirked, then lowered herself back down to continue kissing you. This time, she moved slower, sensually, flicking her tongue against your lower lip teasingly. Her hand resumed its path up your side, eventually reaching your breast. She palmed at your chest, and you arched into the touch, giving her the chance for her lips to reattach at your neck. Her lips wrapped around your pulse point and sucked, hard enough to leave a bruise, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Her other hand slid down your stomach, your muscles involuntarily flexing at the feeling of her nail tickling against your skin. Her hand wormed its way underneath your jeans, not bothering to unbutton them, and towards your pants, pushing them aside. You moaned; eyes fluttering shut as her finger dragged its way…

A crash sounded downstairs, followed by a scream of pain. Your eyes shot open, yet Wanda didn’t halt at the distraction.

“Wanda.” You murmured, catching her attention.

Her lips had moved to your chest, which you felt her hum against in response.

“Did you hear that?” You asked.

 Another scream sounded from downstairs, this time a muffled cry for help.

“Wanda. Stop! Can’t you hear that?” You exclaimed, panic suffusing throughout you. There was no way she didn’t hear either call.

“Hear what?” She said, faux innocently without meeting your gaze, then continued to lather attention along your collarbone.

“You need to stop.” You repeated, firmer this time. “Something’s happening downstairs. Someone needs help.” You shoved flutily against her shoulders, quickly becoming irritated by her carelessness.

“I’m sure it’s Pietro pulling some stupid prank. Just relax.”

“No.” Irritation turned to anger which turned to bravery. “I want to check.”

Her fingers curled suddenly, a wave of pleasure shooting through your core. “But you’re so wet, baby. Let me take care of you first.” Her voice was lost in lust, which had all but drained from you.

“Not now.” You gritted your teeth, pushing her harshly to the side.

Wanda finally broke away to stare at you impassively. “Fine.” She snapped, reaching out for her top. “Go on then.” Coldly, she turned her back to you, leaving you to gather your clothes.

The abrupt change in atmosphere left you stunned. You knew Wanda would be disappointed, but this newfound coldness was extreme- like you were seeing a whole new side to your girlfriend. You stared silently at her back, taking in the tenseness to her shoulders, the upright, frigid posture. Part of you longed to reach out, to melt the frigidity with your own body heat, yet you felt as though you couldn’t. As though a physical barrier had formed between you.

Instead, you sighed and began to dress, eyes darting around the room, anywhere except at her.

Standing up and brushing the hair out of your face, your eyes came to rest on the telephone sitting on the nightstand. As mundane as the object was, it brought a stark revelation to your doubtful mind.

“Who did you call?” You murmured.

“What?” Wanda twitched slightly, still refusing to fully acknowledge you.

“When you were arrested- you’re allowed one phone call…” You elaborated. “Who did you call?”

Wanda paused, answering as she reached back to grab her top. “I called my dad.”

Your mind and pulse were racing, worsening the swirling mix of emotions inside of you. “But your parents are out of town?” You stepped forward, hand resting on the doorknob.

“Yeah… and when I called no one answered.” She explained briefly, finally turning to stare at you, something dark twisting her expression. “You don’t still think it was me, do you?”

“No.” You corrected quickly, beginning to turn the door open. “But if it was you, that would’ve been a pretty clever way to throw me off the track.” The door creaked open, light from the hallway flooding into the dingy room. “Using your one phone call to call me so I wouldn’t think it was you.”

Wanda exhaled dramatically, then rose to step closer to you. “What do I have to do to prove to you I’m not a killer?” She implored, close enough now that you felt her breath fan across your face. Your gaze darted over her features; the softness to her lips, the smooth red colouring of her cheeks, the way her chin quivered almost imperceptibly, a telltale sign that she was anxious. Yet, the usual warmth that you felt in her presence was lacking, replaced by unequivocal doubt.

Before you could answer her, the door suddenly flung back from your grip.

You fell into the corridor as a figure cloaked in black shot past you, a flash of silver hidden amongst the dark mass. You scrambled to sit up, watched helplessly as Wanda was pushed backwards, watched as a steel blade rose high into the air before striking downwards. Watched red crimson blood splatter across the room.

You took in a shuddering breath, forcing your legs into action. You stood tall, your fear numbed by the sight of Wanda’s lifeless body resting where you had sat but moments ago. A growing pool of red was soaking into the sheets, dripping down the edge and staining the carpet.

Slowly, reluctantly, you turned towards Ghostface. He was still now, proud of his work. And as he looked back to you, masked head twisting curiously, you felt sick with rage.

Without wasting another moment, you were off. A horrific sense of Deja vu clouded your every movement as you tore across the landing and down the stairs, not daring to spare a glance anywhere but onwards. Instinct led you through the house, round the corner and crashing against the front door, frantically trying to twist it open only to find it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. Someone had locked you in.

A beat of silence passed as you realised that Ghostface hadn’t followed you.

For a split second, the house was eerily quiet.

“Y/N!” Peter emerged from one of the doorways, bruised and bloody. One hand clutched at his stomach, the other braced against the wall for support. “Fuck. You’re alive. We’ve gotta’ get out of here.” He winced, edging closer towards you, a trail of blood smearing along the wall.

“Y/N!” Another voice called. Both you and Peter turned towards the source of the noise. “Don’t listen to him.” Pietro appeared, stumbling down the last few stairs, equally bloodied and panting from the exertion of dragging himself along. “He’s lying.” Pietro gulped, shaking his head, tears forming in his eyes. “He attacked me.”

“No!” Peter exclaimed. “It was the other way round. You have to believe me, Y/N. Please!” Peter looked to you desperately, taking a wobbly step forward.

“Stop!” You exclaimed, frightened by your own urgent tone. “Neither of you come any closer.”

Pietro whined, thudding back against the wall. “Where’s Wanda…?” He asked, voice pathetically desperate.

You swallowed, a fresh set of hot tears welling up. “She’s dead.”

“Dead?!” Pietro echoed, marred by a mix of emotions you couldn’t decipher.

“She…” Peter trailed off, eyes wide and innocent.

“It’s Parker.” Pietro spat. “His movie nut mind has snapped. He’s gone psycho.” Pietro launched himself suddenly forward.

“Stay back!” You shouted, no real warning behind the threat.

Though, to your relief, Pietro listened. Both of them stood, barely a metre away and waiting for you to act. You trusted neither. A beat passed as you regained strength, coming to a conclusion about what to do.

“Is there another way out the house?” You asked.

Pietro nodded with barely a second to think. “Peter’s locked the backdoor and taken the keys, I saw-“

“No, I didn’t!” The younger boy interrupted, incredulous and frightened.

“But there’s another way out. A trapdoor in the basement. It leads outside.”

“Alright.” You nodded, gulped. “Lead the way.”

“No…Y/N...” Peter whined. “Please, we can’t trust him, it’s a trap!”

“Shut it, Parker,” Pietro growled through gritted teeth, then suddenly appeared to change tactics, snapping his attention to you. “You can’t believe him, Y/N. He’s lost it. Those graphic, violent horror films he loves, they’ve gone to his head. Go on! Ask him what his favourite film is!”

“It’s Aliens… But I hardly see how that’s relevant!” Peter’s eyes were wide and shining, brimming with tears. “Deep down I know you trust me, and you won’t let Pietro win, you won’t follow him into that basement…”

“I…” You began, taking in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know.”

“Come on Y/N….” Pietro dragged out your name, his gaze solely on you. “You can work it out.” He muttered. “Use that smart brain of yours Wanda’s always going on about… Peter’s in love with you, that’s why all his victims are your ex-lovers.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Peter exclaimed.

“But you can’t deny it.” The silver-haired boy continued. “You see the way he looks at you. The way he obsesses over you. He’s lost it. He knows he can’t have you, so no one can- and if that means killing you too then so be it!”

“Y/N I would never!”

“Oh, he would.”

“Shut it, both of you!” You finally chimed in, mind reeling with the information Pietro was pouring into it. You knew you couldn’t follow Pietro into that basement. But you also knew you couldn’t stay here with Peter either. You took a deep, steadier breath. “Ok here’s what we’re going to do. Pietro, you’re going to go down to the basement, wait by this trapdoor, if it’s really there. Meanwhile Peter, can you make it to the phone in the living room?” You asked, nodding towards the end of the corridor.

Peter was in bad shape judging by the pale colour of his skin, and the way he was hunched over in pain, yet he nodded enthusiastically.

“No…” Pietro moaned, bringing his hands up to clutch his face. “No, no, no!” He stood up straight, throwing his arms by his side to reveal an expression of petulant dissatisfaction. “That’s not how this is meant to go!” He yelled, suddenly, taking you by surprise as you stumbled against the wall.

“Pietro… what-“

“Y/N, you’re meant to go down to the basement!” He gestured out at you, movements frantic and irritated. “Where you see Kate- and oof, she’s real messed up.” He pulled a face, and, well, you didn’t have to fill in the blanks there. “While you’re distracted, Wanda comes downstairs and finishes off Peter and that’s where we have the big reveal!” Pietro laughed manically.

Your stomach dropped.

“Then, in an act of self-defence, you stab Wanda as I run upstairs and call the cops and ‘oh yes, officers” Pietro mocked, explaining his sick plans. “We need your help! It was Y/N all along, she faked it all! She has some sick, twisted fetish, murdering the women she can’t have- and Peter and I- we got in the way.”

Bile rose up your throat as you listened in, trying to fight back. “That never would’ve worked!”

“Maybe not by yourself, but here’s where we bring in Kate, who I tragically fought back against and won when I discovered this deranged reality. I’m, of course, devastated by this revelation. That the two of you worked together. The psycho and the pervert.” He said, singsong and mocking.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs, behind your field of view.

“He’s right.” Wanda’s voice was level as she descended, totally unharmed, and eerily calm in spite of everything occurring in her house, serving to confirm your worst fear. She was involved in this masterplan, lacking Pietro’s enthusiasm, but making up for it in the darkness that seemed to shroud her- your girlfriend.

“Anyways,” Wanda continued, “that’s how it should’ve gone if someone hadn’t messed up,” she growled, her frustrations tuned to Pietro. “I played my part perfectly, and you couldn’t hold the fort down for five minutes while I faked my death?” Wanda didn’t spare a glance at you as she walked past you to stand by her brother.

Your heart had plummeted into your stomach, and your body was racked by tremors. Your own girlfriend had been lying to you this whole time. She was a murderer- and Pietro too. He had practically confessed to either killing- or orchestrating the killing, of your best friend. And Yelena, poor Yelena too. She had been wrapped up in their web of psychopathic lies.

Tears burned their way down your cheeks. “But… why?” You tried to put on a brave face, you really did, but your voice shook.

“Why?” Wanda repeated, her face flashing hot with anger. “Why, Y/N?” She took a menacing step towards you, but before she could force her way into your personal space, Peter stumbled in front, placing himself protectively between you.

Wanda chuckled, though there was no humour behind the sound. She swivelled around, pacing over to Pietro as she spoke, “Because I know the truth. I know you never truly wanted to be with me.”

“W-what?” You stuttered out, placing a steadying hand on Peter’s shoulder as his injured body shook with the exertion of standing.

“Pietro never liked you.” She spat, changing the subject. “You know that, right? Nor Kate.”

Pietro grinned, cruel and horrifying.

“He’s a diagnosed psychopath. But neither of you knew that” Wanda continued, “and I bet you also don’t know that psychopathy doesn’t mean no emotions- like those shitty horror films suggest. He does feel things, he just doesn’t know how to react to them.” She shrugged, fixing you with a cold glare. “And so, when I came crying to him that I’d overheard Agatha Harkness talking in the girl’s bathroom about how you and Yelena were in love with each other, well- he just had to do something about that.”

“That’s ridiculous!” You interrupted, desperate to deny the rumours that seemed endlessly to plague you. “Agatha Harkness is the biggest gossip at our school. Just because she says something, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“See, but I didn’t want to believe it, I really didn’t,” she continued, ignoring you. “But then each time, you pushed me away, it made me realise, she was right.” Wanda cocked her head, crying slightly, though you felt no pity for her.

Instead, you were angry: all of this from a rumour. “So that’s why you murdered… You killed people Wanda, because you were insecure?” You were enraged by her justification, the terror flooding your body having morphed into something much more brutal and unforgiving. “Ever heard of just breaking up?”

“Hey,” Pietro pointed an accusatory finger at you, “don’t talk to my sister like that! She deserves respect, which you’ve failed to give her this entire time.”

“And you…Pietro.” You shook your head. “You were just using Kate for some big revenge scheme. And for what? To make your sister feel better, to kill some people?” You mocked, no longer afraid to provoke the murderers. “What are you meant to be, the next Norman Bates? Only your mother’s never here so you had to fixate on your sister-“

The moment you finished speaking, multiple things happened at once.

Pietro, who had been simmering with rage since you turned on him, lunged forward, hands outstretched to enclose around your neck. He was blocked as Peter used the remained of his strength to barrel into him, slamming the two of them into the wall opposite.

“Y/N, run!” Peter yelled while you stayed paralysed by shock.

You flickered to Wanda, who looked a mix of surprised and devastated. A second later, she looked at you, suddenly understanding what Peter had said, and realising she would need to stop you.

Fortunately, you were a beat quicker and took off in the direction of the basement.

“Y/N!” Footsteps thundered down the stairs behind you. Like a landslide, deadly and unstoppable, Wanda wouldn’t give up until she caught up with you.

But you were faster. Adrenaline gave you strength, speed, focus. You spotted a trapdoor in seconds despite the dingy lighting of the basement, flickering and swaying as you rushed past the lightbulb hanging from the centre of the room.

As it swung, it illuminated a sight your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to: Kate, her body bloody, slumped against the wall having been dragged into a seated position. You stuttered to a stop. Her face was peaceful, as though she were simply asleep, but not convincing enough to provide you with any consolation. Blood painted her pale cheeks, and you knew she had died in pain. At either the hand of your girlfriend- or arguably worse, her brother, Kate’s boyfriend.

“Y/N.” Wanda repeated, without the prior urgency.

You realised you had been still for a while now, paralysed by the dawning reality of your situation, or more important, the futility of your escape. You had to crane your neck upwards to see the trapdoor, and beneath it an unfortunate lack of stairs. You were doomed.

Wanda was panting beside you; the brief sprint having taken its toll on her. You now noticed the knife clutched in her left hand, its blade clean and shining- taunting you. It had yet to be used, and you wondered whether perhaps Wanda had saved it just for you, whether she had picked it out, thought yes, this is the one I want to plunge into the heart of my lover.

Your girlfriend was undeniably menacing in this state. Her chest was rising and falling, her whole body seeming to shrink and expand with each breath, blocking out the exit behind her.

And yet, you still weren’t scared.

“Is this the part where I beg for my life?” You scoffed.

In fact, you were angry.

“Only if you want to,” Wanda replied though she made no move towards you. “But Kate didn’t.”

So, that confirmed it: your girlfriend had been the one to end your best friend's life. You knew she had brought it up to get a rise out of you, get you to react in some way other than vengeful indifference, but you wouldn’t justify her with it. You could tell by the twist of her lips that it was driving Wanda crazy.

You swallowed. “What about Yelena?”

“That one was Pietro.” She answered. “God, did it drive me crazy knowing I wouldn’t be the one to end her life, that I wasn’t the last thing she saw in this lifetime. But I needed to be at your house, as an alibi, so you could trust me for a little longer. Girlfriend duties, am I right?” She rolled her eyes humorously.

You weren’t laughing, rather, you frowned. “Then why did you show up at my house and drop your secret mobile phone next time?”

“To confuse you, Y/N… I wanted you to doubt everyone, everything you knew- or thought you knew about people.”

You chuckled in disbelief. “You’re insane, Wanda.”

“I’m not-“

“Like your brother,” you continued, ignoring her protests, “you say he’s the diagnosed psychopath, but maybe you need to get checked out. Actually, while you’re at it, get your parents checked too. I’d love to know why I’ve never met them, let alone seen them.”

There was a pause: silence, and then, “You have.” Wanda gulped, your gaze tracing the movement. “You have seen them. When you arrived at the house and walked to the front door.”

Your furrowed brow was starting to give you a headache, but she was making no sense.

“They’re buried in the garden.” She clarified, gaze drifting around the basement, refusing to settle on anything in particular. She hummed, sad and low. “They died a couple years back, and… me and Pietro… we didn’t want to get put into foster care and separated. We just knew we had to make it work for a while.”

Your lips parted, though you had nothing to say. These had been the most emotionally exhausting days of your life, and you wanted them to end.

“But you were so young….” You said, distracted from the present by the sudden exposition Wanda was providing.

“Close enough to eighteen to improvise.” She shrugged, the movement causing the light to catch the metal of the knife, reflecting round the room in a flash of silver.

“Well, I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been…” You sighed. “But it’s an explanation… not an excuse for what you’ve done, Wanda.”

As Wanda stood there, knife glinting in the faint basement light, something in her expression shifted. Her eyes, previously soft and vulnerable as she poured her heart out to you had become hard, filled with cold resolve. She leapt forward, the blade above you, ready to strike downwards.

In an act of self-defence, you pushed upwards, a hand closing around her forearm and halting the knife’s path.

She pushed down as you pushed up, though the effort was futile as Wanda’s whole body shook, unable to find the strength to plunge the knife into your head, which remained barely an inch away from the sharp tip.

“I can’t do this!” She announced, abruptly stepping backwards and letting you stumble to regain your balance. Wanda’s lip quivered as she looked at you, pain etched into her face. The knife she once held so confidently now seemed like a foreign object. “I can’t hurt you Y/N. I don’t understand! You have this effect on me, I…”

Before she could finish her rambling, you lunged at her, instinct guiding your fist into her enclosed palm, smashing the knife out of her grasp. It clattered to the floor with a metallic clang as you both simultaneously threw yourself towards it, struggling and grappling in a tangle of fear and desperation. You struck your elbow back into her face, hard, and she gasped. In the spare moment, you wrestled the knife from her possession and in one swift motion, plunged it into her side.

Wanda cried out in agony.

You dragged the knife out, ignoring the splatter of blood that followed it, jumping quickly to your feet.

Wanda stayed on the floor, rolling onto her back as her hands grasped at her side, attempting to stop the flow of blood pouring endlessly from the wound.

You choked out a sob, everything around you blurred except for the red soaking into the concrete ground beneath her. And then, you remembered: once this had been Yelena, once it had been Kate, and possibly now Peter. This was the second time this evening that you had seen your girlfriend die, only this time you hoped it stuck.

Wanda’s eyes were frantically searching yours, silently screaming for help as her mouth was agape, drawing in shallow breaths. Hurt and confusion filled her pupils… and something that almost resembled regret… But you didn’t have time to think about it. This was for all her prior victims. For all those that she and Pietro had murdered. You would be the one to escape Wanda’s clutches.

You turned back to the trapdoor, your vision finally adjusted to the dim basement light and spotting a ladder tucked in the corner of the room. You scrambled over to it, heart pounding as you dragged the structure across the room. It scraped against the floor, ear-piercing and loud. You hoped it wouldn’t draw Pietro’s attention, wherever he now lurked in the house.

Shaking hands gripped at the rungs, pulling yourself up with all the power you had left. You had no idea what awaited you above this underground nightmare, but you would never be more ready to face it. Slamming your hand into the trapdoor, moonlight flooded down into the room as you kept climbing up, away from the torment.

As your hand grasped onto the cold, solid ground outside, you could’ve sworn you heard Wanda’s voice echo faintly behind you, a soft plea. You halted, the urge to check on her almost convincing you to look back, but not quite.

Your second hand reached up, and you hauled yourself through the frame of the trapdoor and onto the grass, slightly damp between your fingers. It grounded you. This was real. You took in a breath of fresh air, feeling the cool night air fill your lungs and slow your pounding heart. After a minute, you stood, legs carrying you in the direction of Tony’s parked car further down the driveway, its white reflective paint like a beacon at the end of a long, dark path.

“Hey!” A shrill voice rung out into the night, one you dreaded to recognise instantly as Pietro. You glanced towards the source of the sound to confirm your worst suspicions, and there he was, jumper soaked with dark red blood as he staggered forward.

He was injured, badly, but giving chase as you sprung into action.

“Tony!” You yelled, legs burning as you bolted across the garden. “Tony!” You cried out again, this time catching the attention of two silhouettes sitting in the cop car.

Tony Stark and Pepper Potts frantically stepped out of the car as you drew nearer, their eyes widening at the sight of you sprinting, Pietro following closely on your heels. You could almost feel him reaching out for you, could imagine the cool metal of a knife drawing across your bare skin.

“Get down!” Tony shouted, drawing his gun.

You ducked to the side, and he fired a shot. You scrambled to your knees just in time to see Pietro dodge the bullet, ramming straight into Tony and sending the gun flying across the yard.

Pepper didn’t hesitate. She dived for the gun, rolled to her feet, and fired once, twice, her arm unwavering as she stared Pietro down. Tony jumped to a stand, untangling from the struggle as Pietro staggered, his face contorted in rage and pain, before promptly collapsing to the ground a mere couple of feet away from you.

His eyes never closed, his face never finding peace as more blood spilt out onto his jumper, no longer its original colour, but rather marred by different shades of red. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his body, unable to truly believe he was dead, despite how his chest lacked the monotonous rise and falling movement that signified life.

It was over. And yet, you knew that, just like Pietro, you would never find peace.

...

Sirens blared as a never-ending stream of ambulances arrived, paramedics swarming the scene. Red and blue illuminated the house, arguably more imposing than the first time you had laid eyes on it earlier in the night. You stood frozen, your chest heaving as you watched the world fade into obscurity all around you.

And then, “Bring the stretchers! We’ve got one alive in here!”

You waited with bated breath, refocusing on the front door as the first stretcher carried someone out. Your immediate hope was that Wanda had somehow survived, but as you reluctantly remembered everything you had just gone through, you berated yourself for hoping for such a thing.

You stepped forward, away from the paramedic who had been fussing about you since their arrival, and over to the stretcher.

It was Peter: barely conscious, covered in blood and bruises, and impossibly paler since you had last seen him… Since he had sacrificed himself for the mere possibility of your escape.

“Wait!” You called out to the team lifting him through the threshold of the house, away from the brutality inside. “Let me…” Your voice broke off as you drew nearer, examining the true state of him.

They stopped momentarily, allowing you to reach out as if to brush the hair out of his face, then halting at the last moment. He looked so delicate in this state, so easily breakable.

Instead, you leant over, placing your lips gently against his forehead as you fought against a wave of tears threatening to spill.

Whether it was just imagination reassuring your frantic mind, you weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you saw the corner of his lips flicker upwards.

And in that moment, you realised something. If Peter was going to be okay, then so would you. Someday.

END :)

[stargirlinterludefr]

GOOD LUCK, BABE!: sarah cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: you and sarah are were best friends, she said she wanted to experiment and while she’s everything to you, you’re just an experiment to her. Maybe she was in denial but she realises too late that whatever the two of you had wasn’t ‘nothing’ and she’s forced to stand face to face with i told you so.

TW: hints of homophobia, internalised homophobia, discussion of comphet, drug usage, alcohol consumption, angst, topper, ward actually being a good dad for once, use of y/n, jj being brutally honest

NOTES: sarah is a lesbian in this fic but she struggles heavily with comphet (compulsory heterosexuality) and similar to the song, gets with a man because she can’t accept her sexuality. I have been in the readers situation so writing from experience I suppose.

word count: around 3,010

Driving at sunset in the outer banks is a serene experience, the way the colours dance across the sky and eventually blend into the horizon when you look out upon the sea.

Driving at sunset in the outer banks had always been one of yours and your best friend Sarah’s favourite things to do together, the way you’d drive and she’d stand up through the sun roof of the car, arms our like some kind of angel.

How could you not fall for her?

You were fine with your one sided feelings, truly you were, Sarah was your best friend and you’d already had the conversation about how you didn’t feel anything for her when you eventually came out to her. A big lie, of course, but you just didn’t want to lose her.

So, driving at sunset in the outer banks with the girl you love silently may be foolish to others but it’s a serene kind of peace you’d never want to exchange.

Driving on the same route as usual, you wait for Sarah’s usual routine of pressing on some random Taylor Swift song and standing through the sunroof of her car, but she remains sat in the passenger seat with a mindful expression etched onto her features.

“You okay, Sare?” You ask, taking your eyes off of the desolate road for a moment to glance at her as she hums in response.

“Me? Yeah, ‘course.” She mumbles and you know it’s not true which is why at the next turning that leads to an open space to park, you pull the car over so you can give her your full attention.

“Okay, fess up, you’ve been staring out of the window like you’re contemplating throwing yourself out of the car ever since we got into it.” You say, a slight tease to your tone to help lift her spirits but she simply offers a small smile.

“I want to ask you something…and I-I want you to keep an open mind, okay?” She says after a moments silence and you’re quick to nod, studying the side of her face intently as you wait for whatever thoughts have been bothering her.

“So, you know how you’re gay?” The words have you choking on a breath, eyes widening as you let out a laugh but by the serious look on her face you quickly simmer down.

“Uh yeah, that is uh what I am, big lover of women…why?” You say awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck as Sarah fully turns to look at you now.

“I’ve been thinking that…I might want to like, you know, experiment…” she mumbles and you have to hold your breath to prevent you from choking on it again, “With uh girls…and since your my best friend and the only openly lesbian person I know I thought that maybe I’d…ask you.”

You both stare at eachother for a second, your mind is scrambling and reeling for a response as Sarah’s face becomes increasingly more red.

“I-it’s stupid I know but-“ She starts but you quickly cut her off.

“No, it’s not stupid I uh…I’d be- I mean sure, I’m happy you trust me enough to come to me about this.” You say, clearing your throat as you finish, you know deep down that this is only going to end in tears but if this is the one chance you get to love her without hiding it as much, you don’t want to give it up.

Sarah smiles as she nods in relief, “Yeah? I mean, it obviously won’t mean anything like feelings wise because we’re best friends it’s just like…friends with benefits?” She says and you hate the way your stomach drops slightly but you hide it from her, smiling as you nod.

“Yeah…sure.”

-

One month into yours and Sarah’s ‘nothing’ situation has you realising it isn’t really nothing. Sarah likes to say the two of you are nothing, pointing out she’s merely trying out new things and in turn your getting a good lay.

But the two of you clearly aren’t ‘nothing’ and that becomes increasingly obvious when one of the only people in the world you thought wouldn’t notice the underlying tension, did.

You know Sarah’s brother isn’t blind, he’s always been surprisingly observant and ever since he’d discovered you weren’t interested in men he’d ‘joked’ that you and Sarah would probably end up hooking up eventually.

You now also realise that he wasn’t exactly joking.

“You should call it off, y’know.” A voice sounds from behind where you’re sat on the deck chairs surrounding the large pool at Tannyhill, Sarah having gone inside to make the two of you drinks.

As you turn to see the source of the voice, you’re met with the sight of Rafe’s looming figure. Sunglasses are sat on his face so you can’t see his eyes as he looks at you but when you glance behind him briefly, you can see Sarah conversing with Topper in the kitchen.

“And you’re talking about…?” You trail off, quirking a brow at him as he snorts out a laugh and rounds your deck chair to sit on the one beside you.

“I think you know what I’m talking about, princess.” He states, lying back on his chair nonchalantly as you continue to look at him.

You swallow, you weren’t exactly afraid you and Sarah had been found out but you didn’t want to out her when she didn’t even properly know what her sexuality was yet.

Rafe continues when you remain silent, “I’m just sayin’ kid, I may be her brother but Sarah’s gonna fucking break your heart, she’s never been one to face her feelings.”

You immediately feel defensive, maybe it’s because you love her or maybe it’s because you yourself are in denial. “And you are?”

He lets out a chuckle at that, turning his head to look at you through his sunglasses “Never said I was.” Rafe states before adding, “That’s also how I know whatever it is y’all have going on, it’s gonna end badly, because like me…Sarah can’t face her feelings and she sure as shit is not gonna admit the fact that you love her.”

You don’t even have time to process his words because Sarah and Topper come walking back toward the pool, you turn back to your previous position as Rafe stares at you for a moment before he turns his head back toward the pool.

Sarah and Topper are laughing as she places your drinks on the near by table and an ugly feeling of jealousy coils in your gut as you watch the two of them, the way he stares down at her and the way she bats her eyelashes up at him.

You barely register Rafe’s mutter beside you, “So fucked.”

-

Sarah is kissing you sloppily, her legs wrapped around your waist as you hold her hips, everyone once in a while she lets out soft moans into the kiss before eventually she pulls away to check her phone that buzzes beside you.

You hate when she does that. You hate when she breaks away from you as though nothing at all is happening.

As her eyes flit over the screen you watch as she looks up at you before back down to her phone with a guilty expression,

“Topper?” You hum and she nods, climbing off of your lap and you follow her in standing up. Music is still blaring from downstairs and you feel dizzy from the way Sarah was just kissing you and the alcohol in your system.

“I’ll come find you later, yeah?” She mumbles, eyes not meeting yours before she’s gone out of the room before you can even blink.

She always does that, avoiding your gaze after the two of you had done something that branched away from ‘just friends’ because she couldn’t dare to face up to you and her own emotions.

You sigh, rolling your shoulders as you leave the room shortly after, slowly pushing past sweaty bodies and couples making out as you stumble down the stairs.

As you reach the bottom you come to a slow halt when your eyes latch onto something that makes your head spin.

Sarah kissing Topper. Topper kissing Sarah. Sarah’s kissing Topper. Topper’s kissing Sarah. Sarah’s kissing Topper? Topper’s kissing Sarah?

You feel sick, your heart beats violently in your ears and you can’t force your eyes away. You can’t do anything but stand and stare.

After a moment, Sarah’s eyes open while she and the dreaded boy continue to make out, said eyes dance over to where your stood and you think for a moment she looks guilty but before you can decipher the look…her full attention is back on Topper and you’re left looking like an absolute fool.

-

Sarah finds you around an hour later, stumbling over to where you are sat beside JJ, the two of you sharing a joint.

The Cameron girl smiles widely when she spots you, all but throwing herself to sit on your lap and your jaw ticks in annoyance which you know JJ notices immediately.

“Heyyy, I missed you.” She slurs, hands coming to tangle in your hair as she places a drunken kiss to your lips and then drags them down your neck as JJ clears his throat awkwardly.

“I’ll uh…catch you later.” He says, coming to stand and you nod your head in thanks, not missing the way his eyes all but scream that you have some serious explaining to do.

“Sarah…” You mutter, attempting to lightly draw the girl away from your neck but she doesn’t seem to budge so you pull her away with a slight bit more force and she looks at you with a pout that makes your heart stutter warmly in your chest.

“I think it’s time for-“ You begin but Sarah cuts you off.

“I’m sorry, about Top, I just…you give me all these crazy feelings and I needed them to stop.” She slurs drunkenly, hands coming to cup and squish your cheeks together. “It’s just the way I am, you’re my best friend and Topper’s like soooo sweet.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to plummet, you feel so humiliated but you know she’s drunk and you hope that she maybe remembers what she’s said in the morning but you know that won’t happen.

You gently remove her hands from your cheeks before you awkwardly pat them, “Well uh good luck with that.” You say, already knowing that whatever she was trying to do by kissing Topper was never going to work.

You knew first hand, you’d have to stop the world just to stop these feelings and that would never happen.

-

JJ Maybank was probably one of the only men on the planet you trusted whole heartedly, the boy was your best friend and you loved him like a brother.

Which is why you felt like an asshole for the way he’s looking at you right now.

“You’re tellin’ me kook prince, Rafe Cameron, knew about whatever little sexy mackin’ thing you got going on with Sarah Cameron before I did?” He says, eyebrows raised as his hands wave wildly around “Me? Your best friend, the guy who taught you how to give good head to a gir-“

“Okay! I get it, I’m sorry!” You say loudly, interrupting the route he was going, you know he’s not truly hurt that you didn’t tell him because it’s JJ.

“But seriously bro, what’re you gonna do? Because, not to ever say I agree with Cameron but, she’s totally gonna break your heart.” He rambles, taking a sip from his beer bottle as he comes to sit across from you on the dock the two of you are currently situated at, the dock at the Chateau.

“I don’t know…if it means I don’t have to lose her then maybe I’ll just keep doing it?” You say, shrugging as you watch JJ quirk a brow at you.

“First of all, that’s cliché as fuck, second of all this whole situation is not fair on you at all.” He states, gently nudging your foot with his own. “She’s usin’ you as like some sorta’ experiment and I get it’s hard to come to terms with who you are, I saw it first hand with you, but this shit ain’t fair bro…and it ain’t love.”

You don’t say anything to that, simply nodding as you swallow harshly, turning to look out at the small rippling waves of the water.

-

Sarah is sat on the sofa in the large living room of Tannyhill, eyes boring into the ceiling as she pays no mind to the show playing in the background on the tv.

The sound of her father walking in makes her turn her head and give him a small smile as he comes to sit across from her, ending the call he was on as he looks at her.

“You okay, sweetie?” Ward asks, eyes trained intently on Sarah who nibbles softly at her bottom lip.

“I- uh…yeah- I mean…I don’t know-“ She starts and before she can even get another word out, Ward is sat beside her and pulling his daughter into his arms before the tears fall down her cheeks.

“It’s okay, honey, it’s all gonna be okay.”

All Sarah can do is nod because she doesn’t believe that true, nothings okay with the fact that she could possibly lose you because she can’t understand why she’s feeling these things for you and she feels like her only option is to bail, because while she knows deep down you love her in a way that she’ll never understand…she also knows she’ll fuck it up.

-

Driving through the outer banks at sunset was yours and Sarah’s favourite thing to do together but now, with everything the two of you have been doing, you don’t think you can do these drives without the blinding feeling that nostalgia and Sarah give you.

You pull over similar to the time you did when Sarah brought her idea forward but on this occasion, you’re the one who can’t look at her.

“I’m gonna say something and…I just, need you to listen because…I can only gather so much strength to say it.” You croak out, not daring to look at her because you know she’s already crying and you can’t bear the fact that you could be inflicting pain on the girl you love.

“I love you Sarah…and I tried not to, I really did-“ You choke out, squeezing your eyes closed for a second before reopening them and continuing, “I think I’ve always loved you, before we even became what we are now, but this isn’t what love should be.”

You turn to her then, Sarah’s lips trembling as tears stream down her face and you fight the urge to lean over and take her into your arms.

If you did that, you’d never be able to end this.

“I know you’re confused but…I think you know, deep down, that whatever you feel toward me is real and you’re scared to acknowledge that.” You point out and Sarah lets out a shaky breath at your words.

“You’re my best friend, of course I feel things toward you-“ She attempts to say and you shake your head as you cut her off.

“We’re not just friends, Sarah.” You note, running a hand over your face as the girl beside you crosses her arms over her chest.

“I’m not gay.” She says, her tone so unsure yet so confident that you almost feel guilty for some unknown reason. Guilty for what, exactly? You don’t know, maybe for ending whatever it is you had going on alongside your friendship.

“Come on Sarah-“ You try and she immediately shuts you down, eyes now more angry then they are sad which makes you feel like you physically recoil at the change.

“No, y/n! You’re not making me into something I’m not, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean I have to be too!” She snaps, her words slicing through you violently as you feel a pit of shame curl up in your stomach “I experimented and now I know for sure now I’m not…whatever it is I thought I was.”

You know she’s building up to something so you close your eyes in anticipation for the blow she’s undoubtedly about to deliver.

“Besides, I’m with Topper now so...” You exhale as she says the words, as though she’d physically hit you in the stomach and winded you before you let out a light scoff.

You look to her, her eyes wide and defensive. You simply shake your head before opening the car door, “Topper,” You begin, letting out another scoff before you begin to step out of the car, “Good luck, babe.”

-

Four months after yours and Sarah’s conversation and while you haven’t heard from her, you have heard from Rafe. The Cameron man informing you that Topper and Sarah are having a very…turbulent relationship.

Rafe knows you were the one to end things with his sister, he and JJ being the only ones to actively know that something was going on between you and Sarah. With the exception of Ward who was left to guess what was plaguing his daughter’s thoughts over the last few months.

You feel a form of sympathy as the way everyone only refers to Sarah as ‘Toppers girl’ now. You know you shouldn’t be surprised at it, she never leaves his side and you realised it was her way of trying to prove to herself and to you that whatever feelings she had weren’t romantic.

You knew better and deep down so did she.

As you sit with your friends on the HMS Pogue, sailing across the water you catch sight of Topper’s boat when JJ starts geeking out over the model and price of it.

You also notice Sarah beside him, her face screaming out how unhappy she is without her even needing to say it.

And when your eyes meet hers, you see the unhappiness in her gaze. The facade she puts up and parades around under only extends to so many people and you are not one of them, you know Sarah so deeply and you also know that whatever she’s attempting to prove with Topper isn’t working for her.

And as your two boats come in line with one another, slowly passing, you mime toward the Cameron girl…words you hate to say but you do anyway,

“I told you so.”

[aftgficrec]

favourite fics featuring halloween? (thank you guys for all your work!)

Here are some spooktacular fics for you! You may notice we often point out where a fic has been recced before. If you like the theme or mood of a fic, chances are you will find more like it in the ask where it was featured. -A

previous recs:

Staff Recs Oct 2020 Halloween/Spookiness here

Staff Recs Oct 2021 - Halloween here

Staff Recs Oct 2021 - More Halloween: Costumes, Fluff & Crack here

foxes in a haunted house here

supernatural compilation here

autumnal/spooky fics here

Flavors of Fall by NikNak22 [Rated E, 146194 Words, Complete, 2022]

Previously recced here

…Neil’s not the only one with secrets in this town. Everyone seems to have something they’ve kept hidden in the dark. And as soon as one thread gets pulled, they all seem to come unraveled… Featuring second chances, making mistakes, budding relationships, and as many fall shenanigans as possible – welcome to the smalltown world of Palmetto!

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: panic attacks, tw: homophobia, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: self harm, tw: animal abuse

Fang and Stake by darkbluebox [Rated T, 2658 Words, Complete, 2020]

Previously recced here

For most hunters, it would have been a wet dream: his quarry beaten, bleeding, trapped and prone before him. He might as well have been holding a stake on a silver platter. If it had been any other vampire in the world, Andrew wouldn’t have hesitated to drive the splintering chunk of wood through his chest and be done with it. Unfortunately, Neil wasn’t any other vampire.

tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced abuse

swing me your bones by sundowne [Rated T, 3447 Words, Complete, 2022]

Ditched parties, neglected movies, cold cocoa.

Sugar & Spice (and everything... nice?) by Willow_bird [Rated T, 7468 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Fall 2020]

Previously recced here

“I’m not going as Tombo.” He’d end up looking like Where’s Waldo if he’d been a short angry bodybuilder and no one wanted that. Renee’s little smile hinted at her having a similar visual. “I think I may have something that would require few changes to what you’re wearing now and would be minimal hassle altogether.” Andrew accompanies Renee to a Halloween party, allowing his best friend to dictate his costume because he really couldn’t be paid to care. Then he gets there, and yeah, his crush is wearing the exact same costume. Feelings happen.

deadly encounters by jeanyvesmoreau [Rated T, 4012 Words, Complete, AFTG Halloween Zine 2022, Locked]

Neil, trying to avoid Halloween celebrations once again, finds his way into the dark corner of a bar. There, he meets Andrew. Or, how Neil Josten discovers vampires are real after hundreds of years he's been alive.

tw: violence, tw: blood

Cryptid Serial Killer Witch Man by attfna [Rated M, 17008 Words, Complete, 2020]

Previously recced here

Just a story about your typical, spooky cryptic and his curious gardener.

tw: scars, tw: explicit sexual content

open season by nomadicdeer (someonestolemycoffee) [Rated G, 2287 Words, Complete, 2017]

Previously recced here

Dan declares open season just before Halloween. Featuring andreil kisses, misuse of brussel sprouts, Matt in lingerie, and more.

5 times realisation struck Neil & 1 time he acted on it by alex_wh0 [Rated T, 7503 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2020]

Previously recced here

"Neil looked across the room at Andrew and felt a surge of affection so intense that it stuck in his throat. He wondered how someone who had rolled out of bed barely an hour ago could have the audacity to make him feel like this." or Five times Neil Josten had a realisation and one time he did something about it.

if you're just tuning in walk into the light by orphan_account [Rated T, 8824 Words, Complete, 2020]

Previously recced here

Andrew runs a small shop in Palmetto with his brother. It's monotonous. He takes care of his plants, makes tinctures, provides minimal customer service, and teases Kevin for his heart eyes over Aaron. It's boring, but it's good. And then Wymack hires someone new, and some things change.

The endless mental math required to simply survive. by melbopo [Rated T, 17400 Words, Complete, 2021]

Free booze and candy at Seth's expense for his frat's Halloween party on Friday? Say no more, Andrew will be there, mandatory costume and all. Perhaps Matt's new Exy loving stray will even occupy Kevin for the whole night so he doesn't give Andrew inane lectures about wasting talent and potential on intramural teams, leaving him to drink his free alcohol in blissful peace. Really, the simple mental math checks out in his favor on this one. ~~~~ (alternative title: Andrew Minyard and his acquaintances [that are actually his friends])

tw: homophobia

aaron's lament by nanatsuyu [Rated T, 9061 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021, Locked]

Previously recced here

It's the first holiday Katelyn and Aaron have hosted in their own apartment. Katelyn thinks it'll be fun. Aaron thinks there are far too many people in his home.

An Unpleasant Surprise by justdk [Rated T, 3689 Words, Complete, 2018]

Previously recced here

Neil's visit to the haunted house is not fun. At all.

tw: panic attacks

best thing by exactly13percent_OLD (hymbeaux) [Rated M, 4117 Words, Complete, 2019]

Previously recced here

Aaron has 48 hours off. Kevin has a party to attend. They both have unanswered questions.

firsts by exactly13percent_OLD (hymbeaux) [Rated G, 6270 Words, Complete, 2019]

Previously recced here

Andrew and Neil have fostered Clara and Riley for a little over a year. It's their first Halloween. It's taken a while for both kids to become comfortable, and tonight is for them.

Say something, say yes by DeyaAmaya [Rated T, 2851 Words, Complete, 2018]

Previously recced here

'I can't leave. I need to say goodbye to your son. I can't leave like this.' Mary smiles. Andrew feels a shiver down his spine. Her lips don't move, but he can hear her voice clear as a bell. 'You're not saying goodbye to him.'

tw: major character injury

House To Haunt by moonix [Rated M, 65356 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

This fic is a choose your own adventure game! Follow Kevin as he explores an abandoned mansion with a Fox companion of your choice. You can discover different parts of the mansion, learn about its previous owners' history, romance Kevin's companion, collect interesting items, solve puzzles, rescue Kevin and his friends from a variety of sticky situations... and then do it all over again! !!Please make sure to read the instructions at the beginning before you start playing!!

Something Out of Nothing by Aquared46 [Rated E, 20831 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

Fox’s Hollow had attracted tourists for decades with its haunted history and Halloween festivals. A resident for many years, Andrew doesn't believe in ghosts or hauntings, but when his workplace is being investigated by ghosthunters, he spends his early hours with a man far more intriguing and haunted than a ghost could ever be.

tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture

it's almost halloween by reaching_my_summit [Rated T, 2677 Words, Complete, 2017]

Part 3 of this is something, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 5 here, part 6 here

the Foxes celebrate halloween together at Eden's. someone flirts with Andrew. Neil is not about that.

do you like scary movies? by Ominous, Stjosten [Rated T, 22519 Words, Complete, 2020]

Previously recced here

To say Andrew has never seen the benefit in the make-believe would be a lie. However, he finds less and less use for it as he grows older. He especially fails to see the benefits of anything from the horror genre; he’s made plenty of his own mistakes, has seen more than enough to terrify him in his life. He doesn’t need to rely on jump scares and idiotic protagonists. But when he meets Neil, self-proclaimed horror archivist, he finds that maybe he never gave the genre the credit it was due, and he ends up thanking the dull movies eventually… They lead him to Neil, the realest thing he’s ever known.

pumpkin heads by moonix [Rated T, 4278 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Tonight is the night. Halloween, Andrew and Neil's last night working at the pumpkin patch, and the night Andrew is finally going to ask Kevin out. If only they could find Kevin... (Based on the graphic novel Pumpkin Heads, but you don't need to have read it to understand the fic.)

Andrew Minyard Loves Fall (and will fight anyone who doesn’t) by mareofthesky [Rated G, 11074 Words, Complete, 2022]

Andrew is trying to enjoy his favorite season in peace, but a certain Mystery Man keeps popping up out of nowhere. With a long string of aliases, an infuriating mouth, and striking features, he's managed to catch Andrew's attention in a way that not many can. Andrew can't seem to get the menace out of his head, but he's beginning to think he doesn't want to.

NB: author’s fall spotify playlist here

skylight by djhedy [Rated T, 5560 words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2020]

Previously recced here

neil moves to a pro team, a new apartment, in a new city, and is held up by his friends. and by a series of mysterious gifts left on his doormat.

What if We Held Hands in our Pyjama Pants by transjorts [Rated T, 9301 Words, Complete, 2021]

A very soft, autumn-themed high school au in which Andrew, Aaron and Nicky are the new kids and Neil accidentally catches feelings.

tw: dysphoria, tw: transphobia, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Art

aftghalloweenzine cosplay by @foxy-exy

your favorite emotional support sapphics art by @kashjsnsndnan

Renison as Witch and vampire art by @pria-png

adoptive!Bee halloween and happy halloween! art by @deklo

andreil halloween costumes art by @manekkii-art

andreil halloween costumes art by @lunapiq

All family together art by @kurra

the foxes in their costumes art by @jojen-hewitt

Neil and Andrew in Eden’s outfits + Halloween art by @fabulousmisfits

happy halloween, foxes art by @jeannemaybedarc

Put ‘em up and Neil costume comic art by @emry-stars-art

Halloween party… art by @stiigex

Halloween andreil makeup meme art by @jesperandwylansittinginnatree

AngelJean and DevilJeremy art by @blablablabel

[bumblesimagines]

Under The Moonlight

Part 17

Request: Yes or No

Summary: (Y/N) and Harald only continue to make things more complicated for themselves. After returning to Constantinople, (Y/N) is forced to say goodbye to his brother for the first time.

CW/TW: Mention of the deaths of innocents, situationships situationshipping, suggestive content, normal relationship? don't know her, implied homophobia, religion bashing + the violent love of Christianity, healthy sibling relationships rise up

~~~

Silence hung over them like a heavy cloud, the words they wished to speak dying in their throats in favor of staying quiet and letting the moment pass. Tiring and infuriating, it was, but winning a death match against an experienced ruler was quite the feat. (Y/N)'s brief flash of anger had disappeared the moment the fight began, leaving him simply with familiar numbness and exhaustion, his attention focused on cleaning the cut Harald had sustained on his arm instead of picking up their argument again. 

Harald winced and withheld the urge to flinch each time the needle entered his skin, his gaze flickering between watching the cut be sown and studying (Y/N)'s face. Years of patching up injuries had turned him into a swift healer, his hands nimble and gentle as they finished sewing his cut. His bloodied fingers picked up the rag floating in the basin beside them and carefully dabbed it along his skin, cleaning any blood that'd seeped out before taking the bandages offered to him by one of the servants.

"Thank you." (Y/N) murmured, tearing his eyes away from the injury and toward the tent's entrance when Emperor Romanos stepped inside, freshly changed into his armor and ready for the journey back home to the heart of his empire. He raised his hand to stop them both from standing, giving (Y/N) a small nod to continue working before he looked back at Harald and offered him a wide smile. 

"I'm glad to see you're recovering." He said, striding closer to them and raising a hand to touch Harald's shoulder. "Harald, I am under no illusion that your heart is still in the North. That you fought for the Empire on my behalf... will not be forgotten."

"I was honored by your trust in me," Harald responded, and (Y/N) resisted the urge to sigh. He wrapped the cut quickly yet carefully before tying a knot to ensure the bandages would slip and risk the injury growing infected. He stepped back, drawing the eyes of both men who watched him as he cleaned his hands, his head bowed and disinterest in their conversation evident. 

"A deserved trust." The Emperor said, a hint of amusement and knowing lacing his voice. He squeezed Harald's shoulder with a quiet chuckle and left the tent to mount his readied horse. They'd be allowed two to three days to recover from battle and gather supplies and treasures from the castle before following him to Constantinople. 

"If you feel as if your injury is worsening," (Y/N) cleared his throat to catch Harald's attention. "Speak with a healer." He told him bluntly and slipped past him, leaving the tent and walking past the Emperor and General Maniakes whilst they spoke of what was to be done. He caught the General's eye, noticing the slight curl of his lip and rolling his eyes once Maniakes couldn't see his face.

The camp seemed to bustle with more life, most having already entered the castle to take whatever they could find. Leif had likely been among them, for he'd been eager to arrive after learning of a library holding ancient texts and books. (Y/N) would hardly find himself surprised if the next time he saw his brother he had a sack full of books and maps to be placed in his already cluttered home. He had little interest in the treasures and knowledge; Leif had already taught him more than enough and he hardly needed treasure to live happily. Greenlanders lived through trade, rarely ever finding themselves in need of coin. 

Slipping into his tent, (Y/N) crouched down by his luggage full of clothes and sorted through it until he found a clean shirt to wear for the rest of the day. It'd likely grow dirtied and grimy by the time night fell but he preferred walking around with a clean shirt over a bloodied one. He reached back and slipped off the shirt, tossing it aside and standing back up with the new one in hand. He stuck his arms and head through the holes and let it slip over his body, his ears catching the rustling of the tent flaps and footsteps entering. 

"We should talk." 

"Then talk, Harald." (Y/N) sighed and turned to face him, his arms folding over his stomach and brow arching for him to speak. Harald's lips pursed, glancing over his shoulder and stepping fully into the tent toward him once certain nobody would be interrupting them. (Y/N) straightened up when he drew closer and Harald stopped, a deep frown spreading on his face. 

"How much longer are you going to do this, (Y/N)? Three years ago you claimed it would be for the best if we were no longer lovers and I told you I'd prove myself to be capable of everything you wished for. I have showered you with my treasures, I ensure you have everything you can desire, I stand by while you bring others to your bed. I am a General for the Empire and with all the riches I've sent my uncle, I know I am more than wealthy. What else must I do?" Harald's hardened voice softened, his steps slow as he approached, almost as if dealing with an animal that could lash out at any moment. 

"I never asked for any of that." (Y/N) reminded him softly, and allowed him closer with little complaint. Harald's hands found their way onto his hips, squeezing lightly and pulling him closer to him. (Y/N) turned his head away to avoid looking into Harald's soft eyes, for he knew it'd make it harder to keep to his wits if he dared look at his face.

"It is torture, (Y/N). You reject my advances yet accept the advances of others. You allow me to sleep in your bed some nights but refuse to other nights. I will not be able to take this for much longer. I... I don't know how you feel about me anymore." His hand rose to gently grab his face, turning his head so he'd be forced to look him in the eyes. (Y/N) pressed his lips tightly together and looked at the storm of emotions in his eyes, similar emotions he felt swirling in his gut. "I love you, (Y/N). I've loved you since the moment I witnessed your abilities and the care you have for those close to you. You have fascinated me for years, ever since the day I first laid eyes on you on that boat in Kattegat. I need you. My heart, my mind, my soul, my blood, it all longs for you."

"I want to believe you, Harald, but each time I allow myself to trust you.. you only do what you desire. I am simply living my life, and it seems that I suffer the least when you are not consuming me. I have my own home, my own things, I have new friends and- and yes, I have lovers but it is only because I am no longer waiting for you to change. I care for them.. and I know that if I were to ask, at least one of them would be willing to do what you refuse to. I'm happy, Harald."

The dreaded silence returned, leaving them to stare into each other's eyes. Harald leaned forward to press their foreheads together, his calloused thumb running back and forth over his cheek and his nose gently bumping against (Y/N)'s. He inhaled heavily. "We were happy once, back in Kattegat... in the cabin. We fight most when we live apart, (Y/N)... when we refuse to speak our minds. We were supposed to spend our time in Constantinople together. I want us to be happy again, together. We can go back to those times, back to what we once were. Allow me back in, (Y/N), and we can be happy together, I swear it."

"Harald..." (Y/N) exhaled, his arms unfolding and allowing Harald to press their chests firmly together. His fingers ran through the soft curls along the back of his head, his other hand resting on the prince's shoulder and lightly squeezing him. He felt the familiar feeling of Harald's breath dancing along his skin, a familiar desire bubbling in the pit of his stomach that he often tried pushing away. Harald's hands slipped down to grasp his hips again, squeezing once more and tugging him as close as possible. 

His fingers curved around the bottom of (Y/N)'s shirt and slipped under, dragging along his back and dancing over old scars until his palm pressed flat against him and he closed the distance. His lips pressed against (Y/N) and sent a shot of familiarity and longing down his spine that made (Y/N) push on Harald's head to be as close as possible. Harald's touch roamed under his shirt until he leaned down slightly to scoop his thighs in his hands and heave him up, a startled and muffled laugh leaving (Y/N). His parted lips allowed for Harald's tongue to dart between them and get him reacquainted with every inch of him as Harald's hefty legs led them toward (Y/N)'s bed. 

Harald plopped back on the bed, settling (Y/N) on his lap and bunching up his shirt in his hands. (Y/N) drew back for air and tilted his head back, shivering when Harald ghosted his lips over his throat until he found the spot he knew made (Y/N)'s breath hitch and lightly sunk his teeth into it. (Y/N) released a strangled groan and curled his fingers in Harald's hair, his arm sliding around his shoulders and lips leaving scattered kisses along the top of his head. 

Right as Harald went to lift (Y/N)'s shirt, the ground abruptly trembled with the sound of a distant explosion that made them both go still. The camp around them came to life with panicked and confused shouts, quiet panting escaping the two as they waited for more noise but nothing came. (Y/N) swallowed, his brows dipping into a furrow and hands pushing Harald's shoulders back.

"Seems like the Gods have spoken," He muttered, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and scrambling off Harald's lap before he could stand and knock him over. (Y/N) adjusted his shirt, tucking it into his pants before tossing apart the flaps of the tent and turning to look toward the fortress where a dark cloud of smoke rose from within the walls. His head snapped to look around him, searching those standing around for any sign of General Maniakes. The man was nowhere in sight. 

"Get us our horses!" Harald shouted toward the nearest Varangian, his eyes locked on the smoke rapidly rising toward the clouds above and waiting for any signs of other explosions. (Y/N) swore he could pick up the faint sound of screaming and wailing in the distance but nobody ran from the fortress in fear.

The Varangian solider sped off further into camp and returned with their two horses, handing them the reins and staggering back as the two climbed onto their respective mounts. The horses galloped forward the fortress at their commands, dodging past those standing around camp and heading up the trail toward the open gates. They skidded to a stop inside where the two spotted Leif being held back by General Maniake's men, a furious sneer on his face.

"How could you do this?!" Leif demanded with a shout, struggling against the soldiers surrounding him and holding him with the ferocity of a Viking. "Women and children!" 

"Our enemy." The lack of remorse or even sympathy in General Maniakes' voice sent a chill down (Y/N)'s spine, only pure venom dripping from the tongue of the man who'd been all too eager to go forth with a religious war. (Y/N) noticed the catapults nearby, the residue of sulfur littered around them, and with barely contained horror, his eyes dragged over to the section of the fortress that'd been gated shut, the sickly smell of burning flesh mixing with the stench of the sulfur.

"The Emperor gave his word!" Harald bristled, his knuckles turning white from the grip he held on the reins as he came to the same startling and horrifying realization. Maniakes looked at him over his shoulder, his lips curled up into a twisted sadistic smirk. (Y/N) had only ever seen the General show little emotion, his eyes almost always holding anger or malice.

"To a dead man." He turned to face them. "Saracens are like vermin. If you do not destroy them, they will multiply and spread, and soon wipe out Christianity. I did what the Emperor could not."

"You murdered them!" Leif spat viciously.

"No, Leif Eriksson," General Maniakes smirk only widened as he faced Leif and walked up to him, raising his sulfur-covered fingers up to his face. Leif swallowed thickly. "You did. It was your science that was the weapon. Your imagination did this. I... was just the messenger." 

With that, General Maniakes stepped away, stalking off with his soldiers right at his heels. The anger in Leif's body vanished, his shoulders slumping and chest heaving as a look of resignation, defeat, and realization passed over his face at once. The light that'd been in his body for so many years had been swiftly extinguished with just a few words. (Y/N) could only watch hopelessly. 

                    ➸        ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸

The streets of Constantinople had been filled to the brim with residents and travelers welcoming back the armies and congratulating them on their success with cheers, whistles, claps, and music. They stood at the sidelines as the two Generals led their armies through the street with their heads held high with pride. They'd both been given new armor with a lion as the crest; the beginning of their rewards for succeeding in Sicily. (Y/N) followed behind Harald's horse, surrounded by his friends and brother in the march to meet the Emperor and Empress who eagerly awaited their arrival. 

(Y/N) snorted when a woman broke away from the crowd to race up to Batu, her hands grasping the sides of his face and mushing their lips together for a messy kiss. Dorn immediately scowled and tore the woman away from him, shoving her roughly back into the crowd before throwing a half-hearted punch at the bewildered Batu's arm. Kaysan cackled and held a hand to his stomach, staggering forward to clap Batu's shoulder and tease them.

"Keep going," Leif said into his ear, patting his shoulder before he stepped out of the march and into the crowd near an alleyway. (Y/N) slowed down his pace and frowned at the sight of his brother disappearing through the crowd, his heartstrings tugging violently but his feet continuing to walk forward. Leif needed his space, he wouldn't rid him of that. 

The armies eventually broke off into two sections once they reached the outer yard of the palace, one side for General Maniake's men and another for General Harald's men. The two generals stepped onto a wooden podium decorated with vines and flowers, the chaos and music around them dying down so the priest who stood on the balcony overlooking them could speak. 

"Pantodýnama Kyverníti, órise aftoús tous stratiótes stous Agíous Sou Angélous, fýlaxé tous me ti dýnamí Sou kai krátisé tous ypó tin prostasía Sou. Amen!" Almighty Ruler, assign these soldiers to Your Holy Angels, guard them with Your strength, and keep them under Your protection. Even if living in Constaniople hadn't been his first choice, he'd been able to learn a new language with the help of Leif. Those in the crowd who practiced the faith bowed their heads and made a cross with their fingers before erupting into cheers at the sight of Emperor Romanos. 

Raising his hand, he waited for the cheering to cease before speaking, "Today, we welcome back our beloved army.. and celebrate their overwhelming victory in Sicily! The victory of your sons, sons of the mightiest people in the world, the people of Constantinople; an Empire that stretches from the Alps to Asia!" He raised his arms and the crowd cheered, a wide smile on his face. "And now, I present my wife, the Empress Zoe."

Over the past seven years, (Y/N) had watched her transform from Lady Eleana to Empress Zoe of Constantinople. She'd seemingly fallen into the role of the empress with little trouble, managing to exude an aura of grace and regalness as she strode up to take her place beside her husband. She smiled, looking between her two loyal Generals. Married life suited her well, and the Emperor always seemed to regard her with much respect and love. Yet still, her eyes glided over to him and then jumped back to the two men.

"Georgios Maniakes.. and Harald Sigurdsson, you are true sons of Constantinople, and we are in your debt. As a reward for your triumphant actions in Sicily, we bestow upon you the title, Spatharokandidatos, the highest honor of an Imperial Warrior, a status signified by your new armor. Behold your heroes!" At her words, the cheering resumed and the two turned around to face their armies and show off the new armor, and their new status. 

As expected, within the palace was a feast and more celebrations for the army and especially for those close to the Generals. Music played throughout the halls and many danced, cheering and celebrating another win. (Y/N) merely watched as he grazed on the food available, snacking on the various fruits and taking small sips of the wine being offered around. Batu, Dorn, and Kaysan chatted amongst themselves, laughing and exchanging antidotes. (Y/N) listened, chuckling or nodding along until a hand delicately, and briefly, touched his arm. 

"Empress," The three ceased their chatter yet still held wide smiles as they bowed their heads. (Y/N) finished his wine and set it aside before turning around to face Empress Zoe and dipping his head as well. Her smile widened, shifting away from polite to genuine as her eyes softened. Rare were the times they could all be together and chat as they once did. 

"It is good to see you all." She admitted softly, glancing around in search of the missing men before she looked at (Y/N) with furrowed brows. "Where is Leif?"

"He was tired when we arrived. I assume he's gone home to rest for the day."

"Ah, well, tell him I miss him, and I am glad he still plots his own course instead of doing what others want." Empress Zoe told him, a gentle chuckle escaping her. Her light blue eyes studied his features, her earrings swaying with the movements of her crowned head. The others exchanged glances and dipped their heads again, slipping away to leave them be with quiet chuckles and whispers. "I am glad to see you, (Y/N). It has been much time since we last spoke. I don't believe I ever thanked you for looking out for me on our voyage here. It seems like so long ago, but I remember the good times we all had." 

"Yes, the others often speak of those times." (Y/N) smiled, lightly clearing his throat and glancing over his shoulder at his friends. He hardly wished to be left alone with Empress Zoe, especially with the Emperor's keen eye watching them from his throne. He licked his lips and looked back at her, gazing over the long, beautiful gown she wore. It was a shimmery dark blue with golden designs in the shapes of features along her chest, shoulders, and neck that were similar to the crown on her head. "Marriage and ruling becomes you, Zoe."

"Thank you." She smiled bashfully, her fingers lacing together and her eyes glittering with joy. "I do regret not being able to see you on the battlefield anymore, it's always been where you shine best. Though, if you perhaps would prefer staying home, I could always speak with my husband on finding a different job for you." 

"Oh, I-"

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to take away one of my finest warriors, Empress. I often require his advice on many things." Harald's voice cut in, light and teasing but with an undertone only (Y/N) seemed to pick up. Jealously, as it seemed, appeared to be an emotion Harald had become aquantainted with. He stopped at his side and took a swing of the wine in hand, his eyes holding Empress Zoe's gaze as he set his cup aside.

"Spatharokandidatos," She greeted, her head slightly tilting to the side. "I must know, with all your victories, do you still wish to return to Norway and be king?" 

"My desires have never wavered, Empress. I still believe it is my destiny, even if others do not." Harald's gaze slid over to (Y/N), his words bringing a deadpan look to (Y/N)'s face. He rolled his eyes and picked up another cup of wine from one of the passing trays, squinting at the grin that spread on Harald's lips. "Though, I believe some destinies can change over time and with certain circumstances."

"I see." Empress Zoe hummed and stepped back, her gown sliding along the floor with each stride she took until she slipped out of view. (Y/N) swallowed down a gulp of wine that burned his throat, his lips no doubt stained from the drinks he'd had throughout the celebration, and he turned to look at Harald only to notice some palace guards approaching.

"Spatharokandidatos, you must come with us." One of them ordered, and (Y/N) heart sank when Harald furrowed his brows in confusion. He gave a curt nod and glanced at (Y/N) and the others before being escorted out of the room. (Y/N) stared after him, his fingers anxiously digging and rubbing into the designs on his cup.

Unable to provide the others with answers and finding little to distract himself with, (Y/N) excused himself and left the palace, making his way out into the bright, bustling streets of Constantinople. He reached to his shoulders and unclipped the blue cape from his armor to avoid drawing attention from others as he walked through the streets, entering through alleyways and stepping up countless staircases until he reached the street his home resided on. 

(Y/N) pushed the gate open and walked down the pathway until he spotted the stone house perched on a hill overlooking the glimmering ocean; though it was hardly anything in comparison to Leif's home and Harald's estate. He immediately felt at peace away from the noise and hustle of city life, stepping through the wooden doors and finding his belongings sitting on the floor. Ridding himself of the cape and armor and changing into more comfortable clothing, he began putting everything away back where it belonged with the scent of the salty ocean breeze flowing in and clinging to his skin once more. 

With his home taken care of, he decided to check on his brother and took the stone trail leading to Mariam's old place. The subtle smell of smoke and fire filled his nose as he ascended the stairs, taking note of the lit fire pit bowl and the contents slowly burning inside. He moved closer and reached in, pinching and pulling out a piece of paper before the flames could lick at his hand. He gently blew on it and brought it close to his face, faintly making out words written in Arabic. 

"I have no use for these any longer." The exhaustion in Leif's voice made him wince and he watched with a frown as Leif tossed in scrolls, journals, and papers, the fire eagerly eating and burning them. "This knowledge, the writings... it all led to the destruction of innocents." 

"Leif, everything can be destructive if wielded by the wrong person. Weapons, knowledge, kingdoms... Maniake's actions are not on you. You cannot let him get into your mind. He is merely another Jarl Kåre eager to hurt what you believe in." (Y/N) crumbled the paper in his hands and followed his brother into the home that so comfortingly felt like a living part of Mariam. "Do you truly believe he wouldn't have hurt those people? He wanted this, Leif. It was all part of his religious war on those opposed to Christianity."

"And if I had been more careful with my things, then perhaps he wouldn't have taken notice and used it against me," Leif responded, sharply turning to face his brother and grabbing his shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving him. "Seeing those innocents die... seeing them burn alive made me think of all we've done. The places we've conquered that did not surrender easily, the people we've slaughtered fighting other men's wars... for what? The first war we fought was for Freydis, and then what of the others? For glory? For rewards? Blood needlessly spilled... I cannot bear it." 

(Y/N) stared at him, his brows slowly lowering and his frown only growing. "You're leaving... aren't you?" His voice sounded soft, like that of a child's and he swallowed harshly, his heart squeezing. Leif's shoulders slumped and he dropped his hands from (Y/N)'s shoulders, his lips pressing together as he gave a small nod of confirmation. "Oh." He breathed shakily. 

"I know it is not what you wish to hear, (Y/N), and I won't ask you to follow me again. You have made a home here in Constantinople and I cannot ask you to abandon it for me. I have... found that knowledge, even when I wished to use it for good, only seems to destroy things. In my thirst for knowledge, I hardly stopped to think of the people who lost their homes because of us. I don't want to bloody my hands any further." 

Tears pricked the back of his eyes and he forced out a hum, nodding slowly. "Where- Where will you go? If you are returning to Greenland-" 

"No, no, not Greenland." Leif shook his head and stepped aside, retrieving his satchel from the floor and dumping the contents inside over the table. He sorted through them until he found a rolled-up paper, spreading it out against the table. (Y/N) shifted closer and peered down at it, blinking dumbfoundedly at what he assumed to be a drawing. Largely made of blue with white lines and two muted yellow shapes on opposite sides. "I found this in the library in the Book of the Unknown. Nobody knows what it is supposed to be or who made it, only that its origins trace back to Corfu. I suspect that this-" He pointed to one of the shapes. "-is Greenland, and this land across is the Golden Land." 

"The Golden Land? The land you believed you saw on that fishing trip? The one with the tall trees just over the horizon? Father said it was nothing, Leif." 

"I know, I know, but if I can ask the creator of this map why he drew this or where this land is located, I could find it once more. It is why I plan on traveling to Corfu and asking the people there for their local mapmaker. He may know what this is or point me in the direction of who made it." Leif explained, rolling the paper back up and offering him a sad smile as he cupped his cheek. "I know it will be hard. I cannot imagine sailing without you, (Y/N), but sooner or later we would've had to part ways. I swear on the memory of Mariam and Liv, I will come back once I find my answers. Then, if this Golden Land really exists, we can go to Jomsborg and tell Freydis about it."

"I don't think I can manage without you, Leif." (Y/N) admitted softly, shakily. "I've always gone everywhere with you. I've always been your shoulder, your partner, your right hand. What if something happens? What if I need you and you're not here? Parting ways with Freydis and not knowing how she's been doing is hard enough but-"

"You will manage, (Y/N). You're stronger than you think. You've survived the cruelty of man and nature and still hold little hate in your heart. I know things have been hard between you and Harald, and I am hardly the right person to ask when it comes to love... but you can rely on him, if not as a lover then as a friend. Kaysan, Batu, Dorn... they need you and you need them. You'll take care of each other, I know you will." Leif assured him gently, leaning forward to press a fleeting kiss to his forehead. "You made a promise to your prince, and you've never been one to break a promise. If I do not come back in time and I hear of a new king being crowned in Norway, I'll know where to find you."

(Y/N) felt like a child again as the hot tears spilled over his cheeks and trickled off his chin, memories of his younger self weeping when Leif and the older boys went on fishing trips with the adults resurfacing. Simpler times then, when the only thing he cried over were his brother leaving or his father going on one of his angry tangents. He threw his arms around Leif and buried his face in his shoulder, his body lightly trembling with sobs. 

"(Y/N)," Leif exhaled, a slight tremor in his voice that he swallowed down, his arms wrapping tightly around him in return. He caressed the back of (Y/N)'s head as he ran soothing circles along his back, a strained chuckle escaping him. "You know we'll always find each other. You, Freydis, and I... in this life and the next, and all the lives that follow, we'll always find each other. Remember that, Brother. Remember where you came from and- and who you are... remember who your family is. We are Vikings, no matter where we go."

"I know," (Y/N) sighed, sniffling as he drew back. He wiped at his wet cheeks, brushing away the tears and letting a small smile grace his features. Leif returned it, his eyes gleaming with tears that he managed to hold back. "I love you, Leif."

"And I'll always love you too, (Y/N)."

[haeryna]

I love idol and rockstar satosugu!! Do you think you’d expand more in depth on when Suguru got into a fist fight and when Satoru got bullied with reader sticking up for him 👀

sorry for the long wait anon, i was Scheming lol. i hope you like it! thank you for the ask <3 ↪ continued from here

tw: more homophobia (references to being called a slur), emotional constipation, not proofread, author is a sucker for angst

satoru is eight when the boys at the local playground start calling him names. at first they're petty things; "you run like a girl," or "too weak to be a boy." but you've noticed they've been getting bolder, recently. meaner. but it isn't until that day when that word falls from their mouth that you physically recoil, stomping up to them in your denim overalls and light-up pink sketchers.

"what did you just call him?"

the slur falls from the other boy's mouth as easy as breathing. satoru's lips are pressed in a hard line, but you can see the tinges of self-doubt in his eyes. before you can second guess yourself, you step up and slug the boy hard across the cheek. immediately he stumbles back, wailing, but you're too preoccupied with grabbing satoru's hand and running to care.

satoru will never admit it. but you saved a piece of him that day that he didn't even realize was there until later. he could feel his heart mending as he cooed over you, as you whined about the redness of your hands. the way you gazed up at him so trustingly as he gently blew over the braised knuckles, trying to soothe the sting. you were like his tether, he mused. keeping him grounded, keeping him away from his own thoughts.

"it hurts, 'toru," you whined, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he laughs, pressing a kiss to your hand.

"guess suguru and i will just have to teach you how to throw a proper punch, hm?"

you're twelve when you see the large crowd that's gathered in the courtyard of your middle school. when you push your way through, you can see satoru standing closest to the middle, the look in his eyes cold and hard. you tug at his sleeve.

"what's going on?"

before satoru can respond, another classmate eagerly replies, "geto is beating the shit out of some guy!"

your blood turns to ice in your veins, but as you move to try to see what's happening, satoru catches you in his arms, tugging you away. "don't," he chides, pressing your face into his chest and blocking your vision. "suguru didn't want you to see this."

"a fight, 'toru? why?" your voice sounds so bewildered, so hurt, that satoru almost cracks. he can't tell you about how suguru found out that the boy he's currently pummeling into the ground had been going around talking about how he wanted to "get a taste of the whore that geto and gojo have been keeping around." he can't tell you about the rage that had filled both of them, and the hint of fear. you had been their only weakness. the only reason suguru was fighting, satoru thinks, is because i lost the game of rock paper scissors.

after, when the crowd has dispersed, and after principal yaga has finished giving suguru and earful, you sit in his basement with him. tears crowd your eyes as you stubbornly push through, treating his scrapes with ointment and wrapping them carefully up in gauze.

"you don't have to do this," suguru says, softly. the pain you've been trying to hide in your eyes can't hide from him. "it's fine." your voice cracks and you sniffle as you press a bag of ice to his black eye.

suguru sighs, tugging you closer into his arms. "don't be like that. what's wrong, angel?"

"why were you fighting?" your voice is hushed, and you press the bag of ice more firmly to his eye, ignoring the quiet yelp of pain. "'toru won't tell me anything. what's going on, sugu?"

he sighs, cradling you a bit tighter. "do you trust me?"

you have absolutely no doubt in your voice when you reply, "of course."

"he was just, saying things that weren't right. and words weren't going to convince him otherwise." suguru brushes a strand of hair away from your face, eyes softening as he takes in your teary expression. "i promise i'll never fight unless it's absolutely necessary, alright?"

"promise?"

"I promise," he tells you, linking his pinky through yours with ease. "and i've never broken a promise before, have i?"

and he hadn't until that night.

[sleepy-grav3]

Obsessions - Family

A/n: So, a while back, I made this little thing about obsession speculations. Well, I made a few oneshots about that even further back and just found them. It's a mini-series that looks like it was attached to another fanfic plan? Well, I have no idea what the plan was, so I'm giving you this. There are 4 parts I made? This and the 3rd part are finished, but the 2nd and 4th are incomplete. Better together but still understandable as a standalone, you know?

Summary: Jazz has finally gotten through to Vlad in their therapy sessions. Danny is a bit on edge but relieved. Then Vlad has a talk with Jack and Maddie. Many things are shared.

TW: Unprofessional and very improvised medical treatment, mention of stalking, mention of attempted murder, intensified canonical death(s) (I made it so much worse, but it's not too detailed), hints at suicidal thoughts, hints as attempts, internalized homophobia, polyamory (I don't consider it a trigger but some people don't like it so whatever), mention of a dead kitten

Vlad/Maddie/Jack; Danny's obsession is Space and Protection; Vlad's obsession is Family; Liminal amity Park; Vlad loves animals; Amity is Danny's haunt and the people, animals, ghosts, and more sentient plants that live there are his people; Ghosts feel things more intensely and it's overwhelming for halfas who are also still alive and not built or used to it; ghosts are empaths, they know what other people around them are feeling

Danny was sitting on his bed with a needle and fishing line in hand, sewing a particularly long and deep enough cut from his last fight, when his door slammed open. He jumped, eyes wide, blood draining from his face, and heart entirely stopping.

He feared the worst, thinking about how to explain to his parents about such a large injury that couldn’t possibly be from bullying, but then he realized who it was. Jazz.

She was more frazzled, hair a mess and panting heavily. But thanks to ghost speak, allowing him to be the best empath a living person could be, he could tell she wasn’t scared or panicking. It was similar in intensity, but it was the opposite. She was excited and enthusiastic.

“I did it!” She laughed. Tears were springing forth from her eyes as she paced around, waving her hands around. “I actually did it! I-I helped him- I convinced- I- Holy shit, Danny! I did it!”

Danny sighed, shoulders slumping without the previous worry he harbored. He allowed his heart to beat once more, finishing his stitches as Jazz let out her excitement and… relief? No, it was satisfaction. Huh.

“It wasn’t- I didn’t think that- Wow! I didn’t know how it was all going to work because of how obsessions work and his seemed like it was leaning towards control but- But it wasn’t! And while the situation is a bit weird now, it’s- I got a breakthrough!”

Danny raised a brow as he looked up, having finished tying the knot and snipping off the rest while she spoke.

“Can I ask or are you implementing privacy protocols?”

Jazz took a few breaths, letting out a few airy chuckles.

“I-... No it’s…” She took another breath. “Vlad- I’ve been talking to him.” she quickly went to clarify once seeing Danny tense. “And yes, I’m fine. He hasn’t done anything. He’s sent me gifts and sent me a bunch of textbooks and all that- but nothing over the moon.”

Danny pursed his lips, making Jazz smile. He always hated how she’d slip in astronomy into the conversation to calm him down. She knew how it affected his ghostly side. It was like a sedative, a drug. It worked every time.

He was worried the addiction would grow like it had for other ghosts. Jazz stated that it was more like a prescription for a health condition. After that conversation, it clicked. She must’ve been talking with Frostbite. Damn her empathetic nature. It wasn’t even caused by some instinct (though he supposed that she may have a mother’s instinct with how she always saw through him).

“When did you…?”

“He wasn’t sure which place to get Maddie from and what would be best suited for them.” It took a moment for Danny to remember about Vlad's first cat.

“But why did he ask you?”

“He thought I wanted to be a vet. And yes, I did for a while just to be around animals. Always wanted a snake- but it wasn’t really… Anyway- The last time Mom talked about me before the incident, it was about me helping a friend with their grumpy cat.”

“Well, he went to the right person, I guess. He officially has 4 of them now.”

“Officially?”

“Remember the whole stray thing?”

It started with Danny finding a dead kitten in a parking lot. His obsession about protecting his people, including the animals and even some plants, had hit him hard. He ended up crying to Vlad about it when the older halfa saw him going on a frenzy to find all the strays in Amity to see if they were ok.

Vlad decided to join him and bought a whole building for the strays they've found. It's a play area open for adoption and just to hang out. But before that, he had to keep them in his mansion. He had to throw out his old wardrobe because of all the fur.

It was funny to think back on. Vlad spoiled them so much but refused to admit how attached he got to them even when he had 3 kittens climbing him, a surprise raccoon on his shoulders, and 2 dogs running circles around him.

“Oh, right.” Jazz snickered a bit before shaking her head. “After approaching him enough times while you were out, I was able to start talking with him. And now, he came to a conclusion!”

“And that is…?”

Jazz hesitated for a moment.

“So… how do you feel about hooking him up with mom-”

He opened his mouth.

“-and dad?”

He closed it, eyes now wide. Jazz pursed her lips, analyzing every micro-expression before falling back into therapist-brain when she found nothing.

“I know you aren’t comfortable with him after everything, but you must’ve noticed how he’s calmed down a bit, right? He’s trying and-”

“It’s related to his obsession. He has one.” Danny interrupted; Jazz could hear his slow relief sneaking in. “It’s not… You said it wasn’t control. It's... it's really not?” His expression held hesitant hope. As if he was trying to be careful not to get his hopes up.

Jazz smiled softly. “No, it’s not.”

Danny let out a small sigh of relief, slumping forward. Jazz could see the energy- something similar to adrenaline- drain out of him. He looked more tired now.

The exhaustion he carried was identical to that of a retired veteran soldier. It made a piece of her ache each time he let loose enough to show it. It made her wilt when she saw the similar expressions on his friends as well.

Val was an exception, but it was only because she acted like a military person during training rather than after war.

It made sense.

She hated how it did.

He looked up again, now with a more appreciative look. One that was thankful and genuinely happy.

“Congratulations on your breakthrough.”

“It’ll be a bit easier now, right?”

Danny let out a small chuckle. “Maybe.” He let out another sigh as his head spun a bit from the relief.

He could feel how fuzzy everything was starting to become as something in him twisted. He could feel his core amplifying whatever emotions he was feeling to the point he felt numb. The feeling made it harder to tell if he was breathing, it made it harder to stay in the moment.

He could see Jazz coming closer and he could only smile. He was happy. He was so happy. It felt like he was a step closer to completing something.

“Maybe…”

---

“Can we talk? Just the 3 of us?”

It was a few days after another session with Jazz when he finally convinced himself to talk with Maddie and Jack. Maddie looked at him more skeptically.

It was to be expected, and it made his core want to cry. But Jack accepted without hesitation, looking more than excited to see him. He smiled a bit, feeling his core mend itself with the acceptance alone that he received from Jack of all people. The very person he wanted to kill until about a week ago.

They shuffled to the living room where Vlad could finally sense Daniel in his room along with Jazz’s liminality along with him. It was always difficult to sense liminals, ghosts, or even Daniel in the household due to how much ectoplasm the scientists dealt with. It was worse than how difficult it was to track Daniel’s presence (ghost form or not) when he left Amity Park while Daniel out with his friends or at school.

It’s why he implemented cameras. He had deactivated them once the second truce came around, instead deciding to call Jazz regularly for updates. She was fully honest with him, it was relieving. It made his core hum with glee.

“So what did you want to talk about, Vladdie?”

Vlad took a shaky breath. He didn’t want to lie anymore. He didn’t talk about this to any of the children, but he didn’t want things to bite him back in the future if this worked out.

“Remember the proto-portal? The one we made back in college?”

“Yes?” Maddie confirmed hesitantly, feeling the tension of the room grow.

“Something happened to me then. I got a disease of sorts. It was fatal.”

The 2 of them stilled.

“But you recovered!” Jack exclaimed, though there was a growing puddle of fear. Of concern.

Vlad took another breath, eyes starting to sting.

“I was put into intensive care. They didn’t know what to do, it was a new field entirely. I kept getting sicker and sicker until they gave up and prescribed pain meds in dosages that should’ve been lethal near the end.”

Their hearts dropping was almost audible. Jack’s expression crumbled and Maddie’s became unrecognizable. There was too much weight in her emotions to try and piece together what she was feeling. He was too scared to find out. He was too scared to regret not saying the words “I wish” when his recovery picked up years ago.

He remembered the months during his recovery after he became a halfa. He woke up feeling a rush of so much that he felt numb until he could process it properly. He was still under immense danger of dying. He argued with the doctors, even begged, to go back into the coma he was placed into. He wanted to die without fear or any more pain.

They told him that he’d heal quicker if he was awake. That he was getting to the top of that hill. That he’d go downhill at top speed to his full recovery. He didn't believe them; he didn't want to hope. But heal, he did.

But it was so different as he did.

Too different.

He felt things so much more and it was so intense. His emotions were so strong that he couldn’t stand existing any longer in his lonely room. A room he thought he’d have to stay in for the rest of his life when his condition would go back to life threatening.

“I-” His voice cracked a bit, turning to Jack. “I thought what I felt for you was hate. That I blamed you for what happened to me.”

He wanted someone beside him then. He craved warmth he had only gotten from Maddie and Jack. The feelings he held for Maddie were so simple to understand at that time. It was socially accepted. What he felt for Jack was different. It was, in fact, much more intense. Shivers and goosebumps each time he remembered how Jack would hold him when he got a small injury or was out of breath trying to catch up to the athlete. He felt so small, so vulnerable.

“Vlad-” Jack started, his heart shattering from the fall and flowing through his voice. Vlad could see his tears at the edge of his eyes, ready to begin a stream.

To Maddie, he felt like he could provide whatever she wanted.

To Jack, he thought he felt like he was being treated like someone below him, that he needed to be doted on to be on par with the 2 of them.

But that wasn’t it.

To Jack, he felt like he didn’t have to shoulder any burdens. That he could be loved without truly doing anything in return, that he didn’t need to do anything but be himself.

“It only made sense in those times that it couldn’t be anything but. However…” He turned to Maddie and smiled softly. “It turns out that it wasn’t just you.”

He hadn’t understood it until Jasmine convinced him into therapy lessons. Practice, she claimed, she swore, she lied. She reminded him of how passionate ghosts were. How passionate he was and is.

It was then that he found that he loved Jack more than Maddie at first. That it was such an intense feeling that he confused it with hatred.

It didn’t help that their relationship would’ve been frowned upon then, that it would’ve been impossible and potentially illegal to seal the deal with a ring or even a simple kiss.

It took a moment for her to understand what Vlad was referring to. Her eyes widened, jaw dropping as she looked over at Jack before back at Vlad. Vlad nodded. She shook her head and took a breath.

“What? What do you mean-” Jack was still in the dark. Though, he always was the dense one. “You… You don’t hate me?”

“No, Jack. Though I hope that after this, you’ll be willing to give me a chance.”

“After- I don’t understand.” Jack turned to his wife. “What does he mean? The illness and ‘not just you’? What is he talking about?”

Maddie placed a hand on his shoulder, lips starting to wobble. She seemed to shake her head for a moment.

“He’s been-” She paused, eyes widening slightly before she let out a broken laugh. “He’s been obsessed with me for a long time. And… well, I guess you’re a target now too.”

Jack took a moment to process her words before his face flushed scarlet red. Though he couldn’t speak a word or react further. He simply froze up, making Maddie smile before her lips wobbled and dropped it.

“Are you normally so aggressive?”

The topic was obvious. It made Vlad hopeful that she’d listen.

“No. I was in denial and it had made me sick. For those of my kind, emotional and mental pain is like physical pain to the living. Denying my… my purpose for existing, my obsession, took a toll on me. Ghosts that attack Amity aren’t actually aiming to hurt people. They tend to go too far and forget how fragile living beings tend to be, especially humans.”

Maddie took a breath, looking down.

“They know.” It wasn’t a question.

“They know.” Vlad confirmed. Jazz and Danny knew about him from the very beginning.

Maddie took another breath.

“Why Danny?” Why did you obsess over him like you did with me?

“What- what about Dann-o?” Jack blinked back in.

“It was easier to get to him than Jasmine in my mind. Not only is he a male, but he was struggling with studies. There was also a sort of… connection I had with him. Perhaps it’s due to that portal downstairs. He has been exposed since the womb. Your children have not been fully human for a long time. Liminals at the very least, just as the city is becoming.”

“The city..?”

“Let’s just say that the ambient ectoplasm is the only thing blocking their signatures while that portal is only strengthening their liminality.”

“...”

Jack and Maddie seemed more sick. But Jack shook his head, getting himself back into the topic at hand.

“So- You-... You’re an ectoplasmic entity?”

Vlad swallowed.

“Yes… I’m what they’d call a halfa. According to a roommate, the long exposure from the proto-portal had forced my body to eventually adapt to it and learn to circulate and circulate it differently until it had… Halfas need to go through the process multiple times before they’re stuck as part of the living and part of the dead.”

“Vladdie…”

“I did not feel the final process. I was put into a medical coma. According to the doctors, I had flatlined multiple times and they had to shock me back plenty of times before I became what I am. I still get reminders, but that is a topic for another time.”

It was silent after that. Jack moved almost robotically as he came over, pushing up a sleeve and checking for his pulse. It was too feint to detect from there. He went for his neck next, looking up to Vlad in case he wished for him to give him space. Vlad didn’t fight back, so Jack started focusing on the pulse rate and translating it.

20 beats per minute.

It used to be a low average of 60-70 bpm. It had slowed over the years. He didn’t want to think what would happen when it finally stopped for good. It was already hard enough to remember he had to give a little thought of keeping some semblance of being alive when he was still so tempted to utter a wish.

Maddie came up next to him, lightly pushing him so he’d move enough to let her continue the silent physical exam. Once he did, she started checking his breathing. Then his reflex speed of his eyes in response to light. Then his joint reflexes.

They did all sorts of harmless tests, Maddie writing them down. After finishing the doctor check-up basics, they gave him some room. It made him both relieved and even more scared.

“Would a concussion show as a normal reaction speed?” Maddie asked.

Vlad blinked.

“Ah… No. While it’s much faster now, pupil dilation while concussed is the same as a normal person. Also, bleeding is less in volume, but I can self-heal.”

Maddie nodded and wrote it down.

“Do… Do ghosts have doctors? What if you get sick? We don’t know enough to help you if you do.” Maddie mentioned.

“What… What are you saying?” Please, please be what I’m thinking.

Jack placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling brightly.

“I think we have some time to make up! I’ll make some fudge!”

Maddie grabbed his shoulder before he could rush to the kitchen.

“I may be a little… on edge about this whole thing, but with time, I think we can be something. The 3 of us.”

Vlad’s eyes widened and teared up, his core practically squealing in delight. He felt as though his body was lighter. It felt easier to breathe, to make his heart beat, to- to exist.

All he needed to do was give it time. He hoped they’d be as accepting with Daniel as they were with him. And Danielle… They’d accept her too, won’t they? He hoped they’d forgive him about that. It wasn’t his… best moment.

He didn’t realize he started crying until he was pulled into a tight embrace by Jack, who had moved him onto his lap to comfort him. Maddie left them to it, deciding her next step.

She had traps to get rid of and weapons to recalibrate.

-----

A/n: Yes, Danny did faint. Why was that? Well, I'm not telling. comment what you think though. Hope you enjoyed.

Also, the next chapter or whatever, it's a dc x dp thing. I'll comment when the next chapter is up and add 2 links, a masterlist and part 2.

[20doozers]

★House Party★

TW: Angst, hints of a crush, being in the closet, slight homophobia implications, cuddling, alcohol, underage drinking (depending on where you’re from), m!reader, hopeless love

You and Tom have hated each other since middle school, but always had this sort of flirty nature with each other, despite not liking each other, Tom would always do things like slap your ass or sit on your lap, hug you from behind, etc.

Tom and his brother bill were hosting a party at their house where almost the whole school would be there. It was crowded, loud music playing over everything and drunk people everywhere. Yet as Tom walked through the crowd, he he spotted you, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Hey pretty boy.” He murmured into your ear, being just loud enough for you to hear him over the loud music.

You sighed, taking a small sip from the red plastic solo cup in your hand that was filled with only god knows what type of drink. You stayed silent, not wanting to put up with his antics or his breath that reeked of alcohol. Tom had a lit joint in his hand and took a few drags of it before he began speaking again.

“Why’re you so quiet today?”

He takes another hit before offering the joint to you. “You always have something sassy to say.”

You shook your head, not taking the joint since I knew weed would just make you feel worse. You felt so icky, like a mix of overstimulated but understimulated at the same time. But would you tell Tom that? No. You just felt icky,maybe because it wasn’t your type of environment but you couldn’t really tell.

Tom frowned when you refused to smoke, he knew something was up when he was acting like this, so he put the joint down and just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer into his body as he turned you around to face him.

“Are you alright? You’ve been acting kinda off all night… Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong?” He asked softly, almost as if the two weren’t supposed to be enemies. You just shook your head weakly and hid your face in the crook of Tom’s neck, not wanting to face your problems but just wanting some form of physical support. Tom could feel his heart beating in his chest, his face flushing at the feeling of his arms around you, and you being so close. He would never admit it out loud, but he always found you really really cute when you were like this.

“What’s wrong pretty boy? You okay?” he spoke softly into you hair. You shook your head weakly. “no…”

“C’mon talk to me..Please? I can’t help unless you tell me what’s wrong..” He rubs your back softly, whispering to you, it was only you two in your little world right now.

You just shook your head once more, not having the energy or emotional power to be verbal about anything. Tom figured he just needed to take you upstairs to his bedroom, some peace and quiet would help, right? Tom sighs quietly, bringing his arms up and under you to scoop you up. He began walking upstairs towards his bedroom, carrying you like a baby. After a few minutes they were in his room, where he gently placed you on the bed.

It felt so much more relaxing up there, away from all of the people and noise downstairs. You sat there on his bed, watching as he shut and locked his bedroom door for privacy, making sure no drunk party guest could waltz into his room. Tom turned on some soft music, shutting off all of the lights besides a dim lamp. He sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around you. He looked at you. He just needed you to be happy.

“Are you okay? you wanna talk now?..” You shook your head slightly, it’s not that you couldn’t talk, you just didn’t want to. You cuddled into Tom’s side, your body aching for some sort of stimulation while your mind ached for solitude. You didn’t know what you was feeling, you I sure as hell felt better with Tom.

Tom smiled softly, running his fingers through your hair. Your face was buried against his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair, it was very soothing. Tom had to admit to himself he really loved when you were so quiet, and just snuggling into him like this. He pulled you even closer, burying his nose in your hair, the scent of it made him smile.

You smelled so sweet, almost like a girl, since you usually wore perfume since most men’s cologne gave you headaches. Tom loved how you smelled, like the one time you accidentally left your jacket with him and he cuddled it to sleep that night. Either way you and tom were supposed to hate eachother, even though you really didn’t.

Tom loved that you left your scent every where you went. He even loved when you smelled of perfume. He loved that you were the only person who made his heart beat like this. He had never admitted it to anyone, but he thought you were perfect. Everything about you was perfect, your scent, your looks, everything. His eyes shut and his face flushed as he remembered how he cuddled with your jacket that night, he was supposed to hate you. But why couldn’t he just make you his? You were cuddled into his chest, almost asleep at this point from exhaustion. You had your eyes closed and your breathing was steady, yet you were still somewhat awake, but not for very long.

Tom knew you were exhausted, and he knew you were on the brink of sleep. But he didn’t want you to sleep, not yet. He stayed there, running his fingers through your hair, wishing that this moment would never end. He just wanted to stay here with you.. forever.. he knew that probably sounded stupid, but he had felt this way since middle school. Tom never understood why he loved you, and he was too scared to ask out of fear of rejection..

Nobody really knew why you two were enemies, all they thought was something went bad between you, yknow, typical boy stuff. But it was so much more than that, Tom was scared, scared of being rejected, scared of ruining things, yet more importantly he was scared of being different.

“If only they knew the truth..” He whispered quietly to himself, running his fingers through your hair. He thought of how nice this moment was, how he just wanted to stay here and in this moment forever. But he had to face reality, and he could never tell you how he felt in-front of those other people downstairs. He wasn’t sure if you felt the same. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if you liked men. So he just stayed there, waiting, waiting for a possible moment to reveal his feelings..

“..hm..?” You croaked quietly, your eyes fluttering open to look at him with a sleepy expression. When you looked up at him, his face flushed slightly. He quickly looked away to hide the slight blush. Tom never blushed, he didn’t want to look like a fool, but he couldn’t help the way his heart was beating right now.

“N-nothing.. Just, uh, just talking to myself..” He mumbled out, awkwardly.

“Mmh..” You murmured and slowly fell back asleep, comfy in Tom’s arms for the first time. Tom smirked as he saw you fall back asleep, cuddling you closer, wrapping his free arm around you. Now that he could have you all to himself, he snuggled his face back into your hair, and breathed in the scent that he loved. He just laid there with you, not a single person in the world except the two of you. The two of you in your own little bubble. Tom would’ve been happy to stay like this for forever.

But Tom knew he’d truly never have the courage to confess, so for now he just stayed quiet, happy to have you in his arms even if it was only temporary…

HII!! I haven’t posted a legit fic in.. a while? Idk. This one was a bit rushed so excuse any mistakes! But it’s mostly just rewritten chats from THIS c.ai bot I made :3 so I hope you guys like it! Love you guys💕💕

Tags: @cherry-rawr @itsmealaiah @charliesgoodboy @goreishgorinthgoreofshits @madzandmore (sorry if I forgot any tags💕)

[fernlessbastard]

You guys aren't ready for the conversation of how Quackity sincerely loves bottoming

I'm not at all saying he wants to always bottom, I'd say he still prefers topping most of the time, but whenever he's down to get something up his ass, he's DOWN to get something up his ass, if you know what I mean

(the switching applies to position only, tho. I sincerely can't see him genuinely enjoying subbing, and neither can I see Wilbur actually domming unless they're both being influenced by years of internalised homophobia and patriarchy and all that bullshit, but even then it's just cringe and they're just both pretending it's not cause it's easier that way (and the sex itself isn't like, actively bad, not to mention that it provides some degree of an emotional connection which they both desperately crave), plus it's still basically vanilla just with a little bit of dirty talk - that's how i see them in Pogtopia (with Q bottoming - if you want another huge post on their Pogtopia dynamic let me know cause I have so many thoughts on it and how their traumas affected them and their relationship and how complicated it all was))

That being said, man's 10000% intensely fucking traumatised

(tw personal hc and following the logical path from canon implications idfk)(also exaggeration) like, if he were ACTIVELY evil and had ZERO (even personal) moral code, then the amount of anger he feels towards Schlatt for taking away the enjoyment of it is probably enough to ignore all ethics and torture Dream so utterly unimaginably he ends up violating entirety of the Geneva convention, and then having 50 new ones written specifically to condemn his actions, just to break every single one of those as well on the way, just so that Dream gives him the revival book so that he can re-kill Schlatt with his own hands

Also he absolutely re-traumatised himself with Karl and Sapnap cause he was for sure like "I shouldn't be having an intense panic attack right now, I'm going to push all my energy into pretending that everything's ok and that I don't want to cry and scream and rip my skin off. I'm just being silly and dramatic anyway ha ha" which just resulted in them unknowingly hurting him all over again. I take no criticism. Q's got MASSIVE communication issues when it comes to validating his feelings and Karl and Sapnap are "everything's fine"-ing way too much on the daily. And whole Quackity should work on his issues, it IS a partner's job to at least try to check up on the other(s) (and vice versa), and Karl and Sapnap clearly always preferred to ignore any hints that something might be wrong as a general life rule. The relationship was immaturely focused on "fun and good vibes" from the very start, so any bad topic obviously felt out of place. It started off with lack of communication and it died cause of it too.

That's also actually why I will always firmly stand by the fact that Wilbur (during las Nevadas era) is the only person with whom he could ever heal, btw (yes, including Charlie as a hypothetical romantic interest). Cause Schlatt's abusive, Karl and Sapnap "deserve better" in his eyes (so he pretends to be fine until shit hits the fan and everything falls apart)(that also applies to his hypothetical relationship with Charlie). But with Wilbur there's enough distance to feel safe and call out his bullshit without retaliation in form of abuse, and on the other hand he doesn't care to pretend to be perfect - hell, he probably purposefully shoves his issues onto the guy cause he's like "you think you're so strong and stubborn you can handle me??? You think???? Think again." (Wilbur does the same btw). They're purposefully trying to push each other away, destroy the "relationship", show each other just how fucked up they are. They're psycho-competitive. Even being the first one to be "too much" and get abandoned turns into a competition.

But it backfires. They bond. They're real with each other. They're stubborn, they're determined enough to stay just long enough to see each other's walls crack. And once they do, the feelings are quick to spill. They're each other's only people to be GENUINELY themselves with - no masks, no manipulation, no bullshit. Just themselves. And that's the first, CRUCIAL step to developing a healthy relationship (or at least healthier than all their other relationships).

So with Wilbur he probably only tries to bottom either once he ACTUALLY begins to feel like he could maybe try to reclaim it, or even if he tries it in a self-destructive way, (considering their history+patriarchy and shit) Wilbur'd know and care enough to realise Q's just trying to hurt himself. And as shitty as Wilbur can be sometimes, he's not a bad person - he'd stop Q if things'd go too far, or give him (at least a temporary) safe space to safely go through a breakdown without hurting himself like that. He wouldn't take advantage of such a low moment, and he would know enough to recognise it's a low moment in the first place.

Anyway once they figure all that out and Quackity's genuinely comfortable with it again, it's for sure not uncommon for him to enjoy some nice aggressive pounding, all the while having one hand in Wilbur's hair, pulling it to hold him close, and the other hand on Wilbur's neck, lightly choking him as they're intensely making out

All that to say Q's a massive sadist but he's also a huge massochist and he'll absolutely have Wilbur on a nice leash and call him a pathetic, desperate, horny dog or something like that as the man's (purposefully) sloppily thrusting in and out of him, causing the most "carnage" he can (Wilbur will be double fisting Quackity and Quackity will be just looking at him unfazed like "your hands are small" (they're not)/hj)

Oh btw to clarify [TW ok more direct talk of SA so please be careful and take care of yourselves]- yes, I'm absolutely saying Q got repeatedly SA'd by Schlatt throughout their relationship. The guy was canonically generally verbally and physically abusive, AND basically the whole point of his character is that he's like, the epitome of everything wrong with society. Add to that the sexual comments which were constantly used to demean, insult, and objectify Q, as well as Quackity's intense, palpitable discomfort which noticeably grows each time the topic comes up when they meet after Schlatt's death during Las Nevdas era, it's a pretty safe bet to assume Schlatt didn't stop at "just" verbal and physical violence. Sexual violence is almost a guarantee when you consider all that context - it's hardly even "reading between the lines". And you can't tell me that in our society that views being penetrated during sex as something negative, especially for men, while viewing penetrating someone as an act of "conquering" and "winning" and all that a character who's supposed to embody as many of this world's faults as possible wouldn't shove his dick where it's not wanted, even just purely to prove he can despite lack of consent.

[emo-trash101]

Thank you all so much for the support on the last part! I'm so excited to see everyone else's reactions to the story and how it progresses

Home is Where the Heart is

Pt 2

Daisuke x Male! Reader

Pronouns: second person, implied male

Word count: 1k+

TW: People going insane, Jimmy, murder/death, general mouthwashing stuff, internalized homophobia (this is just generally for the whole series)

Day 25

It took a while to get acclimated to the strange schedule that was required. For most of your day you were in the medical room, either helping your mentor (whose name you now know as Anya) with inventory, or psych evaluations, or just trying to find something to do.

Anya was typically the one asking the questions and you were writing down their answers. Not only was it a decent way to learn more about the other people on the ship, but it made it so you didn't have to interact with others too much verbally. It's not that you didn't want to, it's just that it's easier to just go through everything without making too intense of emotional connections.

"(Name), are you listening?" asked Anya, a concerned look on her face. It's kinda hard to tell when she almost always looks worried, but after spending about 25 days with her, it gets easier to differentiate. "Y-yeah, sorry Anya. What were you saying?" You ask, leaning against the counter.

She sighs, "Today we have Daisuke's psych eval, but I have to have a meeting with Captain Curly, do you think you'll be able to handle it?" she asks, a tinge or worry in her voice. You're sure it's because she doesn't want to leave you alone just yet, especially this early in your internship. "Yeah of course, I can handle that" you say, nodding in accordance.

You hadn't put a face to the name just yet, but thankfully this would be a good time to actually do that.

Anya nods, mumbling a quick thank you before leaving the medical room. You sigh, looking up at the ceiling, staring at the intricate looks of the metal. You grab a nearby clipboard and attach the necessary form to it, setting it down on the table you and Anya had set up just for the evaluations.

It takes about half an hour for Daisuke to show up, which just meant that you got to sit there for a minute and slowly fall asleep, shooting awake when you hear the door open. You look down at the paper, mumbling a hello before you look up and see that it's him. Of course it had to be him today.

"Hey! You must be (name), the other intern!" He says sitting down on the chair across from you. He sounds so excited and thrilled to be here, almost a complete contrast from your demeanor. It's almost enough to make you nauseous. "Isn't it so like, totally awesome being here?" A smile seems to be plastered on his face, like it's a permanent stamp on him.

"It's fine I suppose." You say, nonechelantly, looking down at the paper and pulling out your pen, writing his name down, "And I assume that you're Daisuke?" You look back up at him, and his demeanor seems to not changed even one bit, the same stupid smile on his face. "Yup, that's me!" He says, so cheerful.

One by one, you ask him each of the necessary questions, each and every one of his answers being just as cheerful as the last. Compared to the other's evaluations, he's doing relatively the best mentally, at least on the outside. If being a human hadn't taught you anything, it at least taught you that being that happen is typically a bad cover up for insecurities. But it's not your job to pry, not like you'd want to anyways.

After reaching the last question, you look down at the paper, nodding silently to yourself, then looking up at him "That's all of them.". He looks back at you beaming, but a slight hint of exhaustion plaguing his eyes "Alright!" He says standing up, and getting ready to leave the room. You barely mumble a goodbye to him, not caring at all if he heard it.

"See you later (name)!" He says, leaving the medical room. The way that your name just rolls off his tongue is angering enough as it is, but the excitement within his tone is enough to make your face flush in anger. That's what it has to be, there's no other possible explanation.

After you're sure he's gone, you turn the sink on and splash some cold water on your face. It helps ground you just enough for you to have one cohesive thought.

You hate him. That has to be it.

You hate Daisuke.

Day 36

It's been 11 whole days since you had your first genuine interaction with Daisuke, and none of those feelings had improved whatsoever. If anything it feels like it got worse.

Every single time you have to interact with him, your body gets burning hot, like someone put you in a burning hot shower after being in the cold. And you can't even stand to look at him for too long either, because then he smiles that idiotic smile at you and it makes the whole situation worse.

Thankfully you don't have to be around him for most of the day, since you're working with Anya, but sometimes he'll get injured in some way, like getting electrocuted by wires or smashing his hand with a hammer. And every time he walks into the medical room your stomach drops, because you know that you're going to have to try and stop yourself from lashing out at him.

This time, he walked in while you were taking inventory, his knee bleeding slightly. "Hey Anya and (name), I was wondering if one of you could look at my knee?" He asks, his voice sounding careful, like each word was picked from a bucket with precision. "Oh of course" Anya says, motioning for him to sit down on one of the beds. She looks at you, and you immediately stand up, grabbing the bottle of disinfectant and gauze.

As you grab the bottle of disinfectant, your hand slips and it spills on the counter. "Shit!" You yelp, flipping it over as fast as you can. Even though you did your best to catch it, there's only about half of the bottle left. You look at Anya with apologetic eyes before bringing over the bottle and gauze.

"I'm sorry about that Anya" you say, trying your best not to focus on Daisuke sitting in front of you, surprisingly quiet for once while Anya dumps some of the disinfectant on the gauze. "It's okay (name), accidents happen sometimes." She says, softly cleaning the boy's scrape.

You can hear him hiss in pain, trying his best to remain still. You have to try and just focus on Anya cleaning his wound, paying attention to the way she pats the disinfectant on instead of swiping it, and more.

"(Name) can you go grab some of the bandages from the locker in the hallway? I think we're out of them in here right now." Anya says, sounding professional as she typically does. You nod, walking out of the medical room and into the hallway, opening the medical locker and grabbing the small package of bandaids.

As you go to head back into the room, you can hear Anya and Daisuke talking faintly inside. You try your best to refrain from eavesdropping, but it becomes significantly harder when you hear your name mentioned.

Carefully you put your ear to the door, listening in just as Daisuke says "Do you know why he acts like that? Because I dunno, I barely know him and it feels like he hates me" you hear Anya sigh before saying "I don't think (name) hates you, he just seems to be more... emotionally obstructed" she says.

It makes you nauseous hearing them talk about you. You quickly push open the door, walking over and handing Anya the bandaids. You do your best not to make eye contact with either of them, just watching Anya as she places a bandaid on the scrape.

Soon after Daisuke looks at both of you, thanking you intensely, and then leaving. You didn't even have much of a chance to mumble another goodbye or anything. Somehow that made you feel more upset than it did when he was here.

Uhm, I wrote this right after I finished writing the first one and I'm ngl, I feel low-key kinda delirious so uhm, skibidi.

Make sure you drink water and eat food!

Last and Next

[deafeninggalaxycandy]

✨️BUTTERS STOTCH HEADCANONS✨️

TW: mentions of alcohol, child abuse, hints of homophobia.

• Leopold Victor Stotch

• He/Him, She/Her (Genderfluid)

• Born on September 11th, 2004

• 5'6"

• Bisexual

• Friends with almost everyone in school. Even the goths have hung out with him once or twice.

• Butters was the first one to cut off Cartman after he got involved in another stunt that ended in him getting grounded and beaten by Stephen.

• Once Cartman started being decent, Butters forgave him almost immediately but still kept a distance until he moved away from his parents.

• Still dresses as Marjorine.

• Put puts glitter eyeshadow on ninja star scar.

• Listens to Alec Benjamin, Carrie Underwood, Dolly Parton and Lana Del Rey.

• Wears cherry lip balm (and eats it)

• Got a hummingbird tattoo from Kenny

• Has a pair of pink sneakers painted Hello Kitty on.

• Also amazingly good at art and drawing hyper realistic portraits.

• After years of being grounded, abused, and forced into dangerous situations, Butters started to genuinely hate his parents.

• As a teenager, he completely lost all love for them and a particular hatred for Stephen. He addressed them by sir and ma'am instead of 'mom' and 'dad'. He didn't even bother smiling or appearing cheerful for them, he just kept a blank face and emotionless tone.

• He moved out on his 18th birthday and cut contact with his family immediately.

• He didn't see them again until his grandmother's funeral when he turned 20. He feels guilty about it, but he smiled a little seeing her dead body.

• His father immediately got angry because Butters hadn't called them and was dressing more feminine than he did as a child. Butters finally lost his cool and cursed out Stephen, releasing all of his pent up rage at his parents. He hasn't spoken to them since.

• Has a big crush on Kenny but he values their friendship too much to act on it.

• Plays Hello Kitty games on his iPad. And Candy Crush.

• Absolutely LOVES sunflowers and tulips.

• Went through an emo phase in middle school

• He dyed his hair with Kool-Aid because his parents wouldn't buy him hair dye.

• Butters tried to drink when he was 13. He couldn't handle the bitterness of most alcohol so all he drinks are margaritas and Long Island Iced Tea

• He's still the same cheerful, happy-go-lucky idiot he always was. But he has way less tolerance for people hurting him and will stand his ground much easier. And he's finally went to therapy so he's not this time bomb of suppressed rage.

• Dresses up as Professor Chaos for every Halloween.

• He's kind of strong but he doesn't exercise so he can't lift much.

• Feels like a badass eating raw cookie dough.

Yall, does him dressing as Marjorine and going by different pronouns as that persona, count as gender fluid? Let me know.

Also Butters is so sweet and adorable he deserves the world.

LOOK AT HIM HES SO CUTE IM CRYING-

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I've been focusing on my uni work and getting little bits done here and there. Anyways, I do hope you enjoy this one--and thank you all so much for the support and the kind words, I really appreciate it <3

CW/TW: Suggestive themes, slightly steamy solo scene, strong language, a small instance of implied racism and homophobia - this is purely a character choice and is in no way reflective of the author.

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

Nate’s legs crossed lazily at the ankles as the hum of her laptop filled the quiet space of her bedroom. The early morning light spilled through cracks in the curtains hung over the large windows of her Tribeca penthouse, warming the cold memories she was digging through.

“Hold still, darling.”

On the screen, her mother appeared, laughing as she held a much younger Nate in her arms, spinning her around in a backyard that looked too sunny to be real. Little Nate, all of maybe four or five years old, giggled uncontrollably as the camera shook, trying to capture a still frame of mother and daughter in that carefree moment.

“I can’t! I’m flying!” young Nate squealed, her small arms stretched wide as if she could take off into the sky.

Irina laughed, the sound rich and vibrant, the kind of laugh that made you feel safe just hearing it. “Well, you keep flapping those wings and you might just end up on the moon.”

Nate felt her chest tighten. Her mother’s voice had always done that—made everything seem… okay. She paused the video, staring at the frozen image on the screen. It was one of the few videos she’d managed to save. There had been more at one point in time, but… well, Dimitri eventually took over what was worth saving, and what should be disposed of. 

She hit play again, unable to stop herself from diving back into that world, if only for a few more minutes.

In the next clip, Irina was sitting cross-legged in the grass, wearing a simple sundress, her hair tied up in a loose bun that still managed to look graceful. She was looking at the camera, a faint smile on her lips, but there was a hint of severity in her eyes.

“Come here, Nate,” she said, motioning to the camera, which was now clearly in the hands of Dimitri, who was behind the lens, chuckling deeply.

A smaller, more rambunctious version of Nate ran into frame, throwing herself into her mother’s arms. She could almost feel the warmth, the softness of the embrace even now.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Irina asked, smoothing a hand over her daughter’s plaited, deep brown hair.

Little Nate tilted her head innocently, her brow furrowed with the weight of such a question. “I dunno… A superhero.”

Irina smiled, nodding in approval. “That sounds about right.”

Nate couldn’t help but smile bitterly at that now, laying there alone. A superhero. If only she had known then that the world didn’t make heroes. It made survivors. And her mother wouldn’t be one of them.

She shut the laptop, the screen snapping to black, but the images were already burned into her brain. Every detail of her mother’s face, her smile, the way she held her… Nate remembered it all too vividly. Too painfully. It had been almost nine years since Irina’s death, and still, there were days when she could barely breathe from the sheer memory of it. Watching her lifeless body collapsing to the ground in the middle of the street. How it felt like no matter how loudly she screamed for someone to help, it didn’t seem loud enough. The way her blood-soaked clothes stuck to her skin after holding her own mother’s corpse against her as she waited for an ambulance.

How… quickly it all happened.

But today, the weight was a little different. Lighter, somehow. She knew why, but refused to admit it, even to herself. Roman was supposed to show up around eleven, and for some fucking reason, the thought of it made her stomach flutter like a nervous teenager. She hated it. And she hated him. Hated that she continued to relive the night in the safehouse in the form of dreams. 

More than anything, she hated herself for allowing her resolve to break so easily. She put it down to the adrenaline and the intense pain in her leg as he literally took care of it. It had been so long since somebody took the time to focus on her, even if it was out of necessity.

And now, as she laid in her bed, all she wanted to do was to pretend none of it mattered. To pretend that Roman showing up in a couple of hours didn’t make her heart race in a way it absolutely shouldn’t. That he wasn’t the only thing that inspired any type of excitement, albeit temporary, in her otherwise monotonous, damned excuse of a life. He had become… a distraction, maybe. Or just a reminder that things were spiralling out of control faster than she’d like to admit.

“Fucking pathetic,” she muttered to herself, pushing the laptop to the side and sitting up, running a hand through her tousled hair. She needed to get her shit together before Roman arrived. Glancing at the clock, it was still a couple of hours to go—enough time to remind herself why she hated him.

Shower, Nate. Get in the shower.

The steam from the hot shower already started soothing her tense muscles as she pulled off the shirt she wore for bed. The mirror fogged up, but not enough so that she didn’t catch a glimpse of the patch of gauze taped to her thigh—a reminder of the ambush, and once again… Fuck off.

It wasn’t like she could forget, even if she tried. The raw, animalistic moment they shared… it was never something she’d been very good at controlling. She just never thought she’d be in that scenario with someone like Roman.

She ran her fingers along the wound as she stepped under the hot spray of the water, letting it cascade over her body. The heat wasn’t enough to distract her from the images playing in her head—Roman’s hands, his breath hot against her neck, the tension that had built between them until it snapped like a rubber band.

Her fingers pressed against her skin harder, her breathing uneven as she leaned her forehead against the cool tile. Roman this, Roman that… Goddamn it. She cursed under her breath, her thoughts a tangled mess. And before she knew it, the heat from the shower could barely compete with the heat building inside her body.

Her hand moved on instinct, sliding lower, the need to release the tension growing unbearable. She wasn’t thinking straight—wasn’t thinking at all, really. It wasn’t about him… at least, that’s what she told herself. Just a way to get him out of her head, to clear her mind. 

But that was a boldfaced lie.

She could almost feel him there, feel his dark gaze, looking at her like she was some kind of challenge he had to take on. Her fingers slipped smoothly between her legs, embarrassed at the slick that coated them immediately.

Fuck you, Roman.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut the whole time, even as she slipped two of her fingers inside of herself—it was nothing compared to his fingers, his cock. Her hips gyrated against her own hand, giving her a taste of what he had given her. Her moans were broken, shameful. But she moved faster, harder, chasing the release she knew she needed. And when it came, it was swift, like a bolt of lightning through her core, leaving her gasping for air under the shower’s unrelenting stream.

She stood there for a moment, thighs clasped around her wrist, letting the water wash away whatever it could—though it was never enough. Roman still lingered in her mind, still twisted around her thoughts like a vice. But for now, she could at least push him to the side. She had things to do today, things that didn’t involve him. Well… not just him.

Stepping out of the shower, Nate wrapped a towel around herself and walked back into her bedroom, her hair dripping wet, leaving tiny droplets of water on the hardwood floor. Her eyes drifted to the red dress hanging on the back of her wardrobe, the sight eliciting a small sigh.

It was beautiful, the kind of dress that demanded you stop and look at the occupant. Sleek, fitted, with a neckline that plunged just enough to make it feel dangerous. But it didn’t bring her any joy. Quite the opposite. The reminder of what the dress was for made her stomach twist in knots. It might make her look like a million bucks, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to make her feel that way.

She’d deal with that when it came to it; for now, she had to focus on Roman’s visit and how integral it would be.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Roman: I’m here. Same place as last time.

Nate checked the text at least three times before she finally moved to throw on her jacket. She didn’t want to seem like she was waiting at the door like a lost puppy for him to arrive; she had to leave a little… mystique. Can’t have him thinking she has no life, now, can we?

She made the decision to take the stairs instead of the elevator—better to avoid unnecessary attention. Plus, it gave her a moment to calm the fuck down. Aside from the fact that Roman was coming over again, something that really wasn’t that big of a deal in the long run, she was ultimately concerned about the flag on the back of the attacker’s car. 

And having to recite history to Roman Reigns was like submitting an essay in high school; you’ll second guess yourself over and over again until he finally shows any kind of interest in what you’re saying.

As she exited the building, the brisk air hit her, sharp and cool. She was grateful for her impulsive session of blasting the likes of DJ Blyatman through her stereo set-up, as bass-heavy beats still echoed in her ears, vibrating along her nerves in a way that soothed them.

She found Roman leaning against the wall down the side alley, hidden enough to avoid being seen from the main street. He was alone, no car in sight. Solo wasn’t even standing watching from a distance, like he always seemed to be.

He turned his head at the sound of the metal door opening, instantly shifting in her direction. Hood up, beanie on, he looked as casual as ever, but his energy was potent as always, like he was never truly off guard.

“Head down,” she reminded him through a mutter as he reached her, throwing a glance down the alley to check their surroundings. “Like last time. Don’t need people noticing you waltzing into the building.”

“You worry too much.”

Nate rolled her eyes, biting back a sarcastic retort. “I don’t worry, I plan. There’s a difference, Reigns.”

She turned on her heel, leading him down the same corridor she had used before. Roman followed in step, his imposing shadow filling the space. Heavy. Commanding. Every inch of her was aware of him just centimetres behind.

“You’re lucky it’s quiet right now,” she commented. “But don’t get too comfortable,” she looked over her shoulder at him. “I still don’t trust you walking around here without drawing eyes.”

Roman’s low chuckle was barely audible. “You cute when you boss me around, Princess.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

But her pulse quickened anyway. Fuck him. The last thing she needed was Roman mockingly charming her—again—especially today. 

Nate opened the door to her apartment, motioning for Roman to step inside, to which he moved past her without hesitation, eyes scanning the space as if he were still on guard, even here. She wasn’t surprised—Roman was always switched on, always reading the room.

“Make yourself at home,” she muttered sarcastically as she shut the door, rolling her eyes when he didn’t even acknowledge the invitation. Instead, he went straight for the window, glancing down at the street below like he was expecting trouble.

“You’re still paranoid, I see,” Nate sighed, tossing her jacket onto a nearby chair.

Roman’s attention didn’t waver from his scan of the surroundings, but he finally spoke. “You never know when it’s gonna hit, right?” 

“You’ve got twenty minutes. After that, I might just kick you out,” Nate said flatly, and only half-joking.

Roman raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, unbothered as ever. “Twenty minutes? Thought you’d be a bit more grateful, Princess, considering I dragged my ass all the way from Florida for this.”

She ignored his cocky grin, sighing as she walked toward the kitchen counter. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly beg you to come.”

“Right. You didn’t beg. Just sent me a text all urgent-like.” Roman watched her, amused as she poured herself a drink. She took a sip, not bothering to hide the glare she shot him.

“Are you going to shut up so we can talk about what I brought you here for?”

“I’m all ears,” he replied, settling down into a chair, his frame stretching the fabric of his shirt as he watched her with that unreadable face.

She pushed off the counter, evenly—calmly—breaking the ice.

“It was the Irish.”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“The flag on the back of that car… It was small, but I saw it.”

“What the hell would they want from us? We never had a problem with ‘em.”

“Because they don’t have a problem with your family,” Nate said, starting to steadily pace the room now, the knot in her stomach tightening. “Their issue is with mine. And if they hit the warehouse last month, if they killed Priest and took the shipment… then it’s retaliation.”

Roman’s confusion deepend, and he took a step closer. “Retaliation? For what?”

Nate hesitated, her hands balling into fists as she forced herself to breathe evenly. She hadn’t wanted to get into this with Roman, but now she had no choice. She stopped pacing and finally looked up at him. “It’s… complicated.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Spit it out, Nate. Complicated doesn’t cut it. What the hell did your family do to piss off the Irish?”

Her throat felt dry, and she glanced away for a moment before answering. “You know Madame X?” He gave her a short nod. “It used to belong to the Irish,” she continued. “Aidan Lynch ran it. I knew his daughter. We trained together for a while—sparred, hung out.” She swallowed, casting her mind back, trying her best to conjure up the memories as vividly as she could. “New Year’s, 2014, my dad and Aidan were having… issues. Nothing too serious, or so I thought,” she huffed, a wry smirk on her lips. “My friend and I decided to have a night out at X. Long story short, we get kicked out. Officially, it was because I was only 18. Unofficially, though? It was because of whatever the hell was going on between my dad and the Irish.”

Roman was listening intently now, the previous crumb of frustration shifting. “And then?”

“Then… things escalated.” Nate paused, carrying her glass of water between her fingertips. “Threats were made. I didn’t know all the details at the time. But then they just… disappeared. They pulled out. And dad took over most of the shares of X.”

Roman leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Still don’t explain why they’d hit you now, eight years down the line. I mean, what are they holdin’ onto?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know for sure, but… I think… I think my dad might have done something. Something bad enough to make Aidan walk away. Maybe he scared him, maybe it was something else—but they always had ways of messing with us over the years. Little breadcrumbs, threats, reminders that they were still out there, waiting. Now? I don’t know, it just makes sense.”

He was silent for a moment, absorbing the information, brows furrowing as he considered it. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, then asked, “And you think this is significant to the warehouse because…?”

Nate looked straight at him, her face tight with worry. “Because if the Irish are here. If they’re back. If they had no problem taking out Damian Priest, if they had no problem getting rid of Bunny’s men… That means they’ll have no problem taking out The Bloodline. You. And if they have no problem taking out The Bloodline…” she paused, licking her lips as the pieces meshed together the more she spoke, “Then I know they’ll have no fucking problem taking out my family.”

Roman opened his mouth to continue, but Nate couldn’t be interrupted now. Her knuckles were whitening ever so slightly by the grip she had on the glass in her hand.

“-And I’m not letting them bastards touch my family as long as I’m alive, I need you to understand that, Roman. My sister doesn’t n-need to be involved in any of this, and if I can’t do something about it, if I can’t protect my baby sister, then what the fuck am I here for? What the fuck else am I supposed to do with my life?” She exhaled, downing the rest of the water and placing the empty glass on the kitchen counter. Luckily, she managed to reel in her emotions before she completely broke down in front of Roman; that would definitely be the most embarrassing show of weakness.

But he just sat there, threading his fingers together, eyes locked onto the hardwood floor. It was clear he’d been listening, and he was just trying to figure out what the fuck to do now. He’d never really had a run-in with the Irish, so knew next to nothing about how they worked. Ignorantly, he never thought to look into them, since—like Nate said—they’d not been around.

So now, he and his enemy’s daughter find themselves in a situation where they’ve been attacked by someone Roman knows nothing about—people who are now at the top of their list of people who may be responsible for stealing both families’ shipment of weapons.

“So what’s next?” he mumbled, begrudgingly accepting that he actually needed Nate more than ever. She held all the power now. And it didn’t sit well with him; he wasn't accustomed to relinquishing power. 

Nate did actually have an idea. It was far-out, uncertain, and borderline dangerous. But when all was said and done, she was literally having a conversation with Roman Reigns in her own apartment; danger didn’t seem to be much of a holdback anymore.

“There is one thing…” she said, folding her arms and bringing her hand up to absentmindedly rub her chin. “There’s someone I could get in touch with…. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”

Roman stood, face contorting. “You sure you wanna bring someone else into this?”

Nate shrugged. “You got a better idea?” she snapped.

“Jesus, you ask one question…” Roman huffed, shaking his head, before stopping to study her demeanour for a moment. He had a tendency to let silence sit heavy in the air, knowing it made people squirm—but not Nate. She held her ground, meeting his gaze without blinking, like she was daring him to challenge her.

Finally, he let out a heavy exhale. “Alright,” he grumbled. “Let’s do it your way. But you’re gonna have to be the one to tell the rest of ‘em back at my place. Ain’t no way I’m takin’ that heat for bringin’ someone else in.”

Nate didn’t flinch, though there was a brief flicker in her eyes. She nodded, though Roman didn’t know exactly who she was planning to contact. “Fine. I’ll tell them. But if they give me any shit, you better back me up,” she warned defensively, but he didn’t seem to take the bait. He just gave her one of his signature smirks.

“We’ll see about that.”

Before the moment got too tense, Roman stretched his arms out and rolled his shoulders. “Mind if I use your bathroom? Haven’t had a chance to take a piss all morning.”

Nate arched an eyebrow. “You seriously waited until now?”

“Hey, I’ve been kinda busy tryin’ not to get killed.” He flashed her an arrogant grin, and she just shook her head, motioning towards the hallway.

“Second door on the left.”

Roman gave her a two-fingered salute and headed off, leaving Nate alone in the kitchen, where she proceeded to sigh heavily, her gaze unfocused. She wasn’t sure what she expected from all this—working with Roman was a lot more complicated than she’d anticipated.

Inside the bathroom, Roman did his business and got to washing his hands, eyes casually darting around out of habit. His gaze shifted towards the open shelf above the sink. Various toiletries cluttered the space—usual stuff, but then something caught his eye. The prescription bottles.

He frowned, tilting his head slightly. “Zoloft, huh?” he muttered under his breath, also clocking the bottle of ACE inhibitors and the usual painkillers and vitamins.

Roman wasn’t one to pry, but this was interesting. The meds painted a different picture of Nate—one he hadn’t really expected. His curiosity lingered as he grabbed a towel to dry his hands, letting the thoughts simmer. 

When he walked back out into the kitchen, Nate was leaning against the counter, now nursing a glass of whiskey instead. She raised an eyebrow as he approached.

“All good?” she asked, her tone casual, but with Nate, there was always a hint of something sharper underneath.

He nodded, a lazy smile forming on his lips. “Yeah. And for the record, you really gotta organise that bathroom. It’s a mess.”

She snorted. “Thanks for the advice, Marie Kondo.”

“Anytime, Princess.” His eyes dropped to the glass in her hand as she swirled the amber liquid around the ice settling at the bottom. “Whiskey before noon? That what the classy folks do these days?” He didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm.

Nate glanced at him briefly, then at her glass, shrugging. “What can I say? It’s been that kind of morning.”

Roman noticed she kept glancing down at her phone, checking the time, as if counting down the minutes. “You got somewhere to be?”

There was a pause before she gave him a response, albeit guarded. “Engagement party.”

He tilted his head. “Didn’t think that was your scene…”

She scoffed, setting her glass down with a harder thud than necessary. “Oh, it’s not for fun. Trust me.”

Roman studied her, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s yours, ain’t it?”

“Yep.”

He smirked, but it wasn’t really out of any type of amusement. “Sounds like you’re real thrilled about it. You could always just say no, y’know.” Wow, I’m a hypocrite.

Nate narrowed her eyes, fingers curling into a fist at her side, hidden beneath the counter. “Oh yeah? And what then, Roman? My father disowns me, labels me a traitor, and Boris puts a bullet in my head? Great plan.”

Entirely unmoved by her frustration, Roman just shrugged. “Just sayin’. You don’t strike me as the ‘go along quietly’ type.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, staring down at her glass, “Maybe there’s more going on than you realise.”

“I’m sure there is. But you the one playin’ the part, not me.” He leaned against the counter, lowering his voice into an almost taunting drawl. “What, your old man’s gotta parade you around like a prize for everyone to see? Get the whole city on board?”

Nate’s glare was sharp enough to slice right through his pretty head. “That’s exactly it. He wants everyone to see me as the perfect bride, the perfect daughter. The future of the Volkov empire. And Boris… he’s part of that image, always has been.”

“So what’s the plan? Smile, wave, pretend you’re all in?”

“Pretty much,” she replied coldly. “Until I figure out how to get out of it.”

Roman tilted his head, letting out a small huff. “Seems like you’re a little too deep in the family shit to just figure it out.”

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she said nothing, biting her tongue and clenching her jaw. Why? Because she knew this tall-ass, ridiculously handsome, brooding, imperious Samoan was spot fucking on. He couldn’t have been more correct. She was in too deep. And each passing day, she was finding it harder and harder to seek a way out.

“Well, you enjoy your little party, then. Sounds like a real good time.”

“Yeah, thanks for the encouragement,” Nate bit.

With a deep exhale, he stood up straight and brushed off his jacket, peering down at her the whole time as he walked around the kitchen island, just like the last time, and stopped in front of her. 

“I don’t like you very much,” he began.

“Feeling’s mutu–”

“But,” he held up a finger. “I do like causing pain.” His mouth stretched into a sadistic snarl. “Especially to the tough guys that treat a woman like shit.”

Nate just stared at him blankly, unsure what he was insinuating, though she had a vague idea. Stifling a laugh, she dropped her head and downed the remainder of her whiskey. “You’re a funny one, Reigns.” When she looked back up at him, his expression hadn’t shifted. He was dead serious. “Roman, I’m not asking anyone to take out my dad, or Boris—as fucking heinous of a human being he is.”

“I ain’t said nothin’ about takin’ anyone out,” he chided.

“Nah, but you implied.”

“Hell, if that’s what you took from that, Princess, that shit’s on you.” He grinned, running his tongue along his teeth. “But I will say… Boris has at least one thing goin’ for him.”

Nate raised an unamused eyebrow, daring to ask, “And what’s that?”

Taking a small step forward, he angled his head so he could look straight down at her rather than on her. “His future wife’s a damn good lay.” 

With that, he clicked his tongue and shot her a glimmer of a wink, before backing up and turning towards the door. “I’ll be in touch, Nate.”

Just like that, he was gone. Leaving her speechless. She just stood there, staring at the door, mouth slightly agape at his out-of-nowhere acknowledgement of the night at the safehouse. 

Yep, I’m fucked.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The kitchen of the Volkov estate buzzed with quiet energy as Nate and Katya stood side by side, both immaculately dressed for the engagement party. Nate, draped in the striking red dress she’d grimaced at earlier that morning, couldn’t help but marvel at her sister’s sleek black gown, Katya exuding effortless grace as usual.

She threw a grape in Katya’s direction, aiming for her mouth. “You’re hopeless,” Katya laughed, watching the grape bounce off her chin and roll onto the floor.

“I got the last one!” Nate protested, trying to suppress a grin. The scent of roasted meats, garlic, and buttery dough filled the air as Oskar toilet over the stove, focused on preparing a perfect sharlotka, a traditional Russian apple cake. 

Although, nothing could come close to her mother’s sharlotka. It was always a sort of peace offering for having Nate attend etiquette classes from the age of five. Irina never agreed much with it, but Dimitri insisted. So, she always did what she could to make up for the gruelling hours after schooling at home by baking her own mother’s recipes: pirozhki, pryaniki—the best gingerbread one could eat—and blueberry vatrushka buns. There seemed to be no limit to what Irina could churn out of the kitchen. But the sharlotka was always Nate’s comfort dessert food. No amount of apple-based delicacies could begin to replicate the perfect balance of nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom, and sour cream that her mother mastered.

What she would give to be able to taste it again, if even for a second.

But for now, she’d have to settle for the lineup of finely crafted delicacies surrounding her and her sister: blini with smoked salmon, caviar, beetroot salads with herring, and trays of pelmeni steamed and gleaming under the kitchen lights. Hey, you learn to like that shit when it’s the only thing on the table.

“Vy dvoye khuzhe detey,” Oskar grumbled in his deep voice as he whisked something in a bowl. But they paid him no mind, continuing their little game of grape-throwing and quietly giggling like schoolgirls.

As Nate reached for a slice of pineapple, she took a moment to glance around the estate. The house was carefully curated for the event, with most of it roped off. The garden, foyer, and living room were the only spaces guests would access, each prepared with high-end refreshments and, of course, no weapons allowed—at Dimitri’s strict instruction. The controlled environment almost gave her a false sense of security. Almost.

“Shocked Dad’s letting half the bloody city into our house,” she muttered, tossing another grape.

Katya caught it this time, flashing a playful grin. “Only because it’s on his terms.”

“Truueee…” Nate drawled out, followed by a shared laugh. However, the playful moment with Katya was quickly cut short when Boris entered the kitchen, closely followed by… Alexei. 

Boris immediately honed in on Nate’s presence, stepping past the line she’d set between them far too many times. His hand grazed her waist, slipping lower as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, the moment too swift for her to process and inevitably back away.

She frowned, stepping slightly to the side, wanting to wipe off all her makeup and scrub the area Boris’ lips had touched until her skin was red raw. She appeared unbothered, but stayed entirely alert. It was always like that when Boris was near her, and even more so when Alexei showed up. 

“The hell are you doing here?” Nate blurted out, eyes locking on Alexei.

Said man’s mouth curled into a sneer, cruel eyes scanning the room. “It’s an engagement party, sweetheart. The whole city’s here. Or did you think Daddy wanted this to be private?”

Nate’s eyebrow raised. “Public doesn’t mean you suddenly get to show your face more than usual.”

Boris chuckled, stepping in close to Nate again. “You don’t need to know about everything, milyy. Just enjoy today. It’s your party, after all.”

Once again, she sidestepped him, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, really feels like my day…” she mumbled sarcastically.

Alexei cleared his throat, peering over at her with an aloof sneer. “All your Daddy’s people are here to see the future of the Volkovs. A perfect match, nyet? Wouldn’t want the wrong crowd getting ideas.” His gaze wandered judgmentally over Katya, then back to Nate, as if even their existence was barely tolerable.

“Wrong crowd?” Nate echoed, scrunching up her eyebrows.

“Da,” Alexei sighed lowly, tone dripping with malice. “We don’t need the place filled with degenerates… Faggots. Mudbloods.” He said the words like they were filthy, his voice so casual it made her palms tingle with the itch to strike.

Katya stiffened, but Nate was faster to retort. “Don’t start with that shit, Alexei. Not here, not anywhere.” Her voice cut through the room like a blade. Boris, however, simply grinned, fingers brushing over Nate’s shoulder as if trying to soothe her.

“Relax, detka,” he cooed. “You’re too uptight. Let’s not ruin the mood.”

Nate bristled, every muscle tense under Boris’ touch. She didn’t want to make a scene, but being caught between her fiancé’s constant advances and his best friend’s blatant bigotry made her blood boil.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, shoving Boris’ hand away.

Alexei’s pompous demeanour only strengthened, enjoying how uncomfortable he could make her. “Good. Because soon, this will all be yours and Boris’ responsibility. Better get used to the idea.”

Nate glanced toward her little sister, catching the unease mirroring her own eyes. Katya had retreated, shoulders hunched and arms crossed as if trying to make herself as small as possible, as indistinguishable as possible. But it didn’t work. Alexei saw everything when he wanted to.

“Katerina,” he called over somewhat softly—nothing about that man was soft, gentle, timid. “Ty khorosho vyglyadish’... How have you been?”

Katya cast a glance at Nate, visibly swallowing harshly as she responded the way she was taught to: politely. “Thank you, Alexei. I’ve been good. How are you?”

The response was so robotic, and it broke Nate’s heart to hear her recite something like it was written on a script of an elementary school play.

“Much better now,” Alexei answered, the corner of his lips tugging up into a suave smirk. “How old are you now? I haven’t seen you in years.”

“I’m twenty…” Katya nodded, her voice a stark contrast to Alexei’s.

“Twenty? Bozhe… A woman now, huh?”

The younger girl didn’t have a chance to respond, as the patriarch himself bound into the kitchen, marvelling at the work Oskar had put into catering the masses.

“Ukh ty, Oskar… Vy prevzoshli sebya!”

However, Dimitri’s praise over Oskar’s cooking was mere background noise to Nate as she glared daggers through Alexei. His eyes were too comfortable roaming around her baby sister’s form. She wanted to kill him. Flat out. Make sure it was painful, long, and devastating to all those who loved him.

Flirting like that with Katya… If you could even call it that. Flirting is harmless. Alexei didn’t flirt. He leered.

And Nate didn’t feel good about it one bit.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The evening had worn on, and the estate was filled with a growing sea of finely dressed guests. Nate moved through the crowd, doing her best to play the part of a gracious host, a smile plastered on her face while her mind churned beneath the surface. Lana and Rusev were laughing in the corner, Ivan and Sergei deep in conversation with a few of her father’s men—Mikhal, Viktor, and Oleg, to name a few. They weren’t the most important faces in the family, but they knew how to blend with the elite, high-profile crowd.

Nate’s eyes scanned the room as she floated from one cluster of people to another, murmuring polite hellos, exchanging handshakes, and nodding in agreement with things she wasn’t even listening to. Her uncles were keeping a watchful eye on her, though, and every time she felt one of their gazes, it was like a tether pulling her back to reality. 

She knew her role tonight—to perform, be the perfect Volkov princess.

The garden had been set up to perfection, golden string lights igniting the manicured hedges and stone pathways. Expensive champagne flowed freely, and the food easily tempted partygoers. Oskar had definitely outdone himself in the kitchen. The sharlotka was the piéce de résistance, sitting proudly on the buffet table beside an extravagant display of pastries and vodka.

Nate brushed a hand through her hair, pausing for a moment to grab a drink for herself. As she sipped she noticed two women entering the garden. They stood out, though not… overtly—it was their energy, and the visible confidence in both of them. One, with the most gorgeous complexion Nate had ever seen on another woman, and long dark hair, wore a curve-hugging green dress. The other, with a strong athletic build, had her hair braided in a striking ponytail, exuding a certain swagger in her deep burgundy outfit. The duo looked like they belonged but didn’t quite fit the usual crowd of oligarchs and old money.

Nate approached them, curious but keeping her casual smile. She was always on the lookout for unfamiliar faces at these events. “Enjoying the party?” she asked, her tone light as if she weren’t silently scrutinising them.

The woman in the green turned with a bright smile. “It’s beautiful,” she said warmly, engaging. “I’m Naomi, by the way—this is my friend Bianca.”

“Naomi, Bianca,” Nate repeated, offering her hand. “I’m Natalka. You two look like you’re used to events like these. Where you from?”

“Here and there,” Naomi answered vaguely, her smile never faltering. “We’ve been around. Bianca, here, was the one who convinced me to come tonight. I’m more of a stay-at-home kinda girl.”

Bianca laughed, nudging her friend with her elbow. “Please, don’t let her fool you. Naomi’s the life of the party when she wants to be.”

“Is that so?” Nate grinned, finding herself genuinely amused by the interaction. It wasn’t often she met people who could match her in charm and presence. “Well, I’m glad you both came. Though I have to ask, how did you manage to get in?” she asked with a playful raise of her brow. “Not exactly a ‘come one, come all’ kind of deal.”

Bianca smirked. “What can we say? We got connections.”

“Clearly,” Nate said, laughing lightly. “Well, as long as you’re not here to assassinate anyone, I think we’ll be just fine.”

Naomi chuckled, shaking her head. “No assassinations tonight, promise. We’re just here for the free drinks and to admire the scenery.”

Nate tilted her head, studying Naomi more closely. There was something about her—she couldn’t put her finger on it, but she liked her. There was an easy rapport between them, and for a moment, Nate completely forgot the weight of what tonight was about hanging over her.

“You guys seem cool,” she said after a moment, glancing around the party. “Honestly, this whole thing’s a bit much, but you learn to go along with it. The best part is always sneaking into the kitchen and stealing food before the guests get to it.”

“Is that an invitation?” Bianca grinned.

“Maybe it is,” Nate smirked back, feeling a lightness she hadn’t felt all night. “If you can handle Oskar yelling at us for ruining his display.”

Naomi laughed again, the sound genuine. “I survived worse, I think we good.”

As Nate continued to make small talk, she kept glancing at Naomi. Maybe it was just nice to talk to someone who wasn’t part of her father’s world, someone who wasn’t there to judge her and then expect the world in return, but her presence… put her at ease.

“Anyway,” Nate said after a moment, “I should keep making the rounds, but if you guys want to sneak off for a drink later, find me. I’ll show you the best hiding spots.”

“We’ll take you up on that,” Naomi smiled back, exchanging a quick glance with Bianca.

The night progressed, and Nate kept up appearances, drifting between the tightly controlled sections of the house like an automaton, all the while keeping her eye on Boris and Alexei, as if expecting something to go awry. The guests mingled—politicians, businessmen, allies, and those wealthy enough to blend in. Nate even found herself exchanging a few more words with Naomi and Bianca, appreciating the brief moments of levity they provided.

But now, as the night reached its peak, it was time for the formalities. Nate had positioned herself between Boris and Katya, while the rest of the family gathered in the centre of the estate’s main garden. Dimitri, towering and stoic, moved to take his place at the centre of attention. His mere presence silenced the crowd, and a soft murmur rippled through the guests as they shifted their attention to the Volkov patriarch.

Remaining carefully neutral, Nate’s heart still pounded in her chest, fluttering away to the point where she thought she’d pass out from the sheer anxiety of how real this all seemed to be to her now. Before, the marriage was all talk. Now… Now, she was standing right in the middle of her own engagement party. 

Dimitri raised a hand, signalling for quiet, his deep, booming voice cutting through the night like a blade. “Tonight, we celebrate the future of the Volkov family.”

Nate blinked a few times, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, this wasn’t just about her engagement; this was about Dimitri’s empire. Everything always was.

“My daughter,” he continued, his sharp eyes briefly flicking toward Nate. “Natalka has grown into a strong woman—one I’m proud to call my own. She has stood by her family, as she will continue to do. As tradition dictates, tonight we honour the union of Natalka and Borislav.” He gestured toward Boris, who was standing just a little too close for Nate’s liking.

Dimitri’s speech was littered with the expected praises and veiled threats, his words crafted to remind everyone in attendance of the Volkov legacy. Nate stood rigid, her fingers laced together, her mind elsewhere as her father spoke about her as though she were a commodity to be traded.

He then paused, looking over at Katya, who had been silently watching from beside her older sister. “And my youngest, Katya, who will one day follow in her sister’s footsteps. Together, they are the heart of this family, and I expect nothing less than absolute loyalty.”

Oh, the irony, Nate thought to herself. 

Traditional Russian toasts followed, crystal glasses raised high to honour the Volkov family and the impending marriage. Dimitri led the gathered crowd in a symbolic toast: “Za lyubov,” he said firmly, to love, a phrase that rang hollow in Nate’s ears given the context of her arrangement with Boris.

As the glasses were raised, the traditions began to unfold. A beautifully ornate karavai, a ceremonial Russian bread symbolising prosperity, was brought out on an embroidered cloth. Nate and Boris were led to break the bread together, another tradition meant to signify their union and ensure good fortune. The larger piece was meant to go to the one who would hold the power in the relationship. Of course, Boris made a show of taking the larger piece, grinning smugly as if that were ever in question.

The crowd clapped politely, though there were a few hushed whispers. Nate forced a smile, Boris’ hand settling on her lower back, pulling her closer. The night had gone just as Dimitri wanted—a public display of dominance, power, and the illusion of a loving, cohesive family.

All the while, as traditions simmered to a halt, Nate was frozen in place, replaying each word of her father’s speech like a broken record. “Katya, who will one day follow in her sister’s footsteps.”

The weight of it settled in her chest, pressing down like a tonne of bricks. Her breath hitched. Was this it? Was this what her life had boiled down to completely? Living under Dimitri’s iron grip, bound to a man like Boris, all while her sister was set on the same path? Of course, she’d had these internal questions many times in the past, but now… Shit.

The panic began to rise, bubbling up from her core, clawing at her throat. She could hardly breathe as the thought raced through her mind: I can’t get out. It’s too late.

Her heart hammered as she scanned the room, her father shaking hands, Boris’ hand still possessively at her waist, Alexei with his leering grin in Katya’s direction as she talked to him about the exclusive collection debuting at the Gucci store, so innocently. She had to leave. If she didn’t, she’d break.

She couldn’t let them see her break.

“I… I need a minute,” Nate whispered, not waiting for a response before pulling herself free from Boris’ grasp and heading back inside the house. She hurried up the grand staircase, her heels clacking sharply on the marble floors, each step quickening with the frantic beat of her heart. Reaching her bedroom, she slammed the door shut behind her, leaning her forehead against the wood, trying to catch her breath. But it was too late—the flood of emotions crashed over her, uncontrollable.

The sobs came fast and hard. She sank to her knees, clutching the rug as if it would anchor her to the earth. “Mum…” her voice was barely a whisper at first, a broken plea for someone who couldn’t answer. “What do I do? What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Her cries only grew louder, echoing off the walls as the years of fear, anxiety, and helplessness poured out. Tears streamed down her face, hot and relentless, her chest tightening with each gasp until it hurt to breathe.

“I don’t want this,” she choked, pressing her hands to her face, wishing she could just disappear, wishing her mother were here. “Please… tell me what to do. Help me, please…”

She was trapped, and for the first time in years, Nate felt truly hopeless.

TRANSLATIONS Vy dvoye khuzhe detey - “You two are worse than children.” Ty khorosho vyglyadish’ - “You look good.”

[newcathedrals]

my favorite long winnix fics

As a Band of Brothers fan for 7+ years, I've read ALL of these at least two or three times. If I made a list of my favorite 20 fics from any fandom, all of these would be included. This list is not in a particular order, and I added one honorable mention because I don't think it counts as "long" but it's one of the best!

Post-War Dreaming by Muccamukk: 45k, series. Dick struggles to readjust to civilian life, and Nix decides to help him open a chicken hatchery to get him back on his feet. They were in a relationship during the war in this one, then broke up, and then got back together post-war. tw for depression, alcoholism (but not intense), and obviously period-typical homophobia. I love so many scenes in this series, and it's a softer version of Nix that is not quite his personality in some of the other fics on this list, which I love (I also love super intense Nix).

The Earth Below My Feet by fiorediloto: 175.7k, series. follows Dick and Nix through the entire war. Their relationship is definitely complicated here, especially at the beginning, but that's a core reason as to why I love it so much. Incredibly detailed. tw for a LOT of period-typical homophobia and pretty extreme alcoholism.

What things we have heard together by jouissant: 115.3k, series. I'm not picking favorites, but if I could only read one fanfic for the rest of my life (from any fandom) I'd choose this series. Like many great works of art, this series reframed how I think about love itself. If you read one Band of Brothers fic and no others, I'd recommend this series. tw for serious alcoholism

The Two-Body Problem by dancinguniverse: 32.6k. The only modern AU fic on this list, but that's because its the best. Nix is a astronomy researcher in Chicago, Dick is his best friend, etc. I love space/space-related fiction, so this is definitely one of my favorites of all time.

Honorable mention:

Give me light, give me life by an orphan account :(: 16.3k, so it really shouldn't be on a list of long fics, but. It includes my favorite QUOTE from any fic ever, and you'll know it when you see it (hint: a time, not a place). I've always wondered why this fic was orphaned, but I'm just so thankful that the author didn't delete it outright. when I make a list of short winnix fics, I'll probably include this one as well just because I love it so much. tw for PTSD and alcohol.

[random-knowone]

The Kids Are 14.

AN: Sorry if this is OOC or anything, I’ve only seen it once. Constructive criticism is welcome, this is just the second draft. I'll move it to AO3 when I get my invite

TW slurs/internalized homophobia

The kids are 14. 

They lay side by side on the roof of Doug’s house, staring at the stars. There was a light chill in the air, the first hint of Fall around the corner. Corey’s dad wouldn’t let him have sleepovers, so instead he snuck out after his dad fell asleep so they could stay up all night talking about nothing and everything.

Doug groaned loudly. “It’s so not fair, summer break’s almost over and I’ve spend like half of it with this fucking cast on my arm.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t stolen your dad’s car and tried to drive it all the way to the theater to see some stupid R-rated movie, you wouldn’t’ve crashed it into a tree. The doctors said you were lucky you got away with just a broken arm.” Corey said, with that tone he uses when he’s pretending to be smarter than Doug, even though they both know that isn’t true.

“Bullshit, I didn’t see you stopping me! You were right there in the passenger seat. Of course you only got a concussion, nothing serious ever happens to you.”

“Because you said you knew how to drive! And it’s easy to not get hurt if you’re not a total dumbass, you should try it sometime.” Corey protested. “Why did you want to see that movie so bad anyway?” 

“Brian Kelley at school saw it, he said there were, like, 3 different girls who had their boobs out in it.” Doug said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Corey scoffed. “Gross, you’re such a perv.”

Doug rolled his eyes. “Grow up. If that makes me a perv, everyone’s a perv. Don’t you think about girls?”

“I… You’re disgusting, Doug.” Corey said, shrinking away slightly.

“C’mon, man, don’t you?” Doug’s tone was eager, but playful. He poked at Corey with his good arm, trying to get a reaction.

“I don’t… I don’t wanna talk about it.” Corey muttered, his tone betraying that something was wrong.

Doug leaned in closer. “Do you… Think about boys?” His voice was soft, hesitant to even bring up the suggestion.

“W-what? No! Don’t be an idiot.” Corey exclaimed nervously, fidgeting with his hands.

“Corey, it’s okay, you can tell me.” Doug reached out his arm to comfort him.

Corey shoved him away. “I’m not a fucking faggot, Doug! You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about so just shut up!”

Doug froze. He dropped his gaze, staring at his feet. Corey could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen him act like this. He seemed… Hurt, Scared, almost.

“I… I do think about boys sometimes.” Doug muttered. “I thought maybe you… I guess I’m the faggot.”

Corey stared at him for a second that seemed to stretch on forever. “Shit, I--  I’m sorry, Doug. I didn’t mean… I didn’t know…”

Doug wouldn’t look him in the eye, and started to stand up. “I… I think you should go. It’s getting late, your dad’ll wake up soon, he might notice you’re gone.”

Corey shot up. “W-wait, Doug, come back!” He grabbed Doug by the shoulder. Doug turned around to face him. He stared at Corey, whose face was bathed in the heavenly glow of the moonlight. 

“I… You were right. I do like boys. Not girls too, like you, just… Just guys.” Corey stammered. “I’m the fag, not you. I’m a fag just like my dad’s always said, and I’m nothing, and… And…”

“No, you’re not.” Doug said, slowly stepping closer. He reached up to cup Corey’s face in his hand. “You’re everything.”

Doug leaned in to kiss him, and Corey was too shocked to react. They stayed like that for a while, lips pressed together, two bodies melted into one, under the stars. Slowly the sun started to rise and the two boys crawled back through the window inside, without saying a word.

______________________________________________________________

AN: I loved the dynamic change in making it gay, but I felt like there was a lot of potential in there that was lost by just having Corey's name switched, so this is my attempt to add more of that gay angst

@dsm--v @milolovesbmc