#tw: period typical sexism

[thestressedsimmer]

"You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?"

It had been a few days since la Dauphin's birthday and things had gone back to normal. The king had returned to his duties, even if he was not at his full strength as of yet. He had a kingdom to run, it could not be pushed off forever.

It truly broke Joan's heart, as a mother, to see that her son had lost so much weight over his recovery. He didn't look gaunt, per say, but he certainly didn't look healthy.

His eyes also looked sunken in, the light that used to be in them snuffed out. Then again, it had been dimming over the last several years, with the back to back deaths of his family members.

"Yes." He said with a nod. His face was grave. "As you know, I was poisoned."

"Yes, darling, that is hard to forget."

"As such, that means we have a would-be assassin somewhere around here. The best case scenario would be if they fled when their attempt failed, but we cannot be sure that happened."

It was odd that the king was speaking to a woman about these things, even if the woman was his own mother, but Joan did not express that thought out loud. Her king summoned her to hear this, sure, but her king was also her son.

"We cannot allow this to happen again. Or worse, have them attempt something on my son. They must be found."

As Louis spoke, he started to stand up - but her had to lean on his desk to balance himself. She could tell just by looking at him that he was struggling to stand upright, even if he kept his expression schooled perfectly.

"Mon chou, please be careful. Your physicians said --"

"My physicians have said many things, maman. Their opinions mean very little when I have much to get done."

Joan stood, hoping to help her son if it came down to it, but then nodded for her son to continue his thoughts from before.

"I have thought over my options, but have come to a very sad conclusion: there is nobody I trust in this court other than my family. Robert is the only man in the entire realm that I feel would search for my would be killer with zeal and let nothing stop him. However, his daughter is in a bad way and I do not think his mind is clear enough for this."

Joan could not help but agree. Genevote was not thriving, as horrible as that was to even think, and Robert was beside himself with worry. He had not even shown up at court since his brother's poisoning, declaring himself cursed. She would have to speak to him soon, but she was focused on Louis' health first.

"And that brings me," Louis said as he walked around his desk, eventually having to lean against it when his legs wobbled underneath him, "to the other person who I know would protect me no matter what."

"And who is that?"

"You, maman." He said, placing a shaking hand on her arm. "I want you to lead the investigation into my poisoning. Leave no stone unturned."

Joan was frozen. Never, in her entire life, had she heard of a woman leading an investigation. The fact that her son trusted her so much almost brought her to tears, but she was also concerned about if she was capable of such a feat. As a mother, she felt she could do anything for her children, but as a lady? She was always taught to let the men do that and handle the duties within her station.

But it is not up to her. She is a Willow Creekian subject, she has to obey the king. Even if the king was once a babe in her arms.

"I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." He responded with a smile. And just like that? He left the room. Leaving Joan to wonder how she was going to manage this.

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 1

Chapter 1 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

He befriends Chrissy and grows as thick as thieves with her. Over the summer he adds Robin to his friends as well. Meanwhile Eddie seems to have taken an interest in the fallen king, but Steve can’t figure out quite yet why Eddie is talking with him. Flirting with him?

On AO3.

Ships: eventual steddie & buckingham

Warnings: period typical sexism, period typical homophobia, internalized homophobia, child neglect mention, bullying, f-slur

~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: The Deal

Steve has quit the basketball team after winter break. Before winter break he was technically still on the team, but not allowed to play due to his concussion. Now he is healed enough to get back on the court, but Billy has turned most of the team against him, which makes playing impossible. Hence the quitting.

However, now he has a slot he needs to fill if he wants to make it into college. He can’t join some braniac team, he’s barely scraping by. Going back to swimming also isn’t an option, since the swim team is practically the same as the basketball team and he doesn’t fancy drowning.

He wishes he could just continue playing basketball. That it wasn’t that bad. That he could man up and make it through. But he can’t, he really can’t. He likes his bones in one piece and the doctor said another concussion might be the end of what his brain can take.

So, he sits longingly alongside the court and watches the team train, aching to just have an activity he is good at again. To not feel like such a failure.

A loud and frustrated sigh pulls him from his thoughts and his eyes are pulled to the cheerleaders that are also practicing in the gym. The captain of the cheer team, Molly, throws up her hands and says: “It isn’t gonna work like this.”

“No need to snap,” Heather, one of the other girls, scowls. “Mary can’t help that she’s sick. She’ll be back after the weekend and then we’ll train the whole thing properly.”

“I know that,” Molly snaps. “But it’s throwing everything off and we need to get this routine straight. We can’t afford to have anyone missing.”

“We know,” Heather rolls her eyes, still posed to fight.

Molly sighs and says: “I just need this competition to go well.”

Heather softens at that and places a hand on Molly’s shoulder and smiles: “We’re gonna kill it. Don’t worry too much, Molls. Lets just run it again, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Molly smiles, before loudly clapping her hands and getting everyone back into position to go from the top.

Without realizing Steve has ambled closer to the cheerleaders. He startles a little at the loud clap, before watching at the routine starts up again. He has often watched the cheerleaders, they’re at the sides of big games and the team always stared together.

However, he has never really paid any attention to their training. Right now, though, he watches in awe as they toss each other in the air and keep smiling as they tumble about.

Since he is aware of it, he can clearly see where one of the girls is missing. When some of the girls are lifted some shapes are uneven and a few stay on the ground with an annoyed look. Certain formations are also incomplete. At one point one of the girls nearly falls, because someone who is supposed to be there isn’t.

The routine comes to an end and Steve can clearly see Molly, who is on the cusp of breaking down again. In Steve’s opinion it doesn’t look that difficult, well, what seems to be missing that is. It’s just holding someone up. Not like he has to do a back flip.

He hasn’t consciously realized what he’s doing until he’s tapping Molly on the shoulder. She startles and turns, before getting big eyes and smiling softly as she greets: “Hi, Steve.”

While Steve’s popularity has gone down considerably since Billy showed up, he is still well liked under the female student body. He smiles back at her and says: “Hi, Molly. Uhm- This is really stupid.” He rubs the back of his head, suddenly aware of how much he is not allowed to do what he is about to do. “I-” he lets out a breath and decides to go for it. “I heard you talking earlier, about missing someone. Can I help?”

It’s quiet and Steve immediately regrets even looking in their direction.

A boy doesn’t do cheerleading, it’s a girls sport. Barely even a sport. Just a thing they do to look pretty. He has no business being close to it beyond asking a cheerleader out. He has already plummeted vastly in popularity, the last thing he needs is gay rumors floating around. No matter how true they’d be.

He just wants to be helpful, do something he might be able to for a change. But he didn’t think it through and now he’s done something stupid. Like he always does.

Steve is about to take it back, play it off as a joke or just walk away if nothing comes to mind in the next second, when Molly lights up. “That’s perfect!” she grins. “Mary is a base position, which should be easy to teach. Thank you so much.”

Some of the other girls send him some weird looks, but after Molly’s relieved thanks, he doesn’t have the heart to turn away. So, he awkwardly shrugs: “It’s no problem, not like I have anything better to do.”

He is ignored by Molly, who turns around and addresses the others: “Go over parts you’re struggling with for a little. Lisa, Karen, Susan, come here!”

Three girls come their way as the others devolve into doing their own thing. Molly asks him: “Are you warmed up?”

Steve doesn’t think this will be that much effort, so he nods. It’s honestly his mistake, along with staying in his jeans and shirt.

He is shown the proper way to hold up a flyer. He hadn’t even realized before now that there were multiple positions in cheerleading. However, here he is. He is filling in for a base, so he’s holding Karen, the flyer, along with Lisa, the other base. Meanwhile Susan is the back spotter, she is the first to catch Karen should it go wrong. It’s important to catch the flyer properly or one can risk hurting the flyer quite badly.

Within a few minutes Steve gains so much respect for cheerleading, something he and the other guys have always put aside as some easy girly thing.

As he lifts Karen, he can feel her muscles under his hands as she has to keep everything tense as to not loose her balance on just their hands. Lisa is also a lot stronger than she looks, holding half of Karen’s weight along with Steve. He is already sweating through his polo and he definitely can’t keep smiling as he does this.

After a while he is able to get it. Molly is satisfied with his progress and deems it enough to call everyone together again. She says: “Okay, we can’t go through the routine, because Steve doesn’t know it and he isn’t going to learn this quick. So, we’re just going through the pyramids slowly, alright?”

She gets cheers back and instructs Lisa to make sure Steve knows what to do as everyone moves back to position.

Lisa is his saving grace, because Steve can’t keep up with how easily they all shift between position, creating structures out of just their bodies, before flipping down, tumbling around and doing it again.

He hadn’t realized how much mental space it takes to keep track of everyone’s position. He is very impressed with all the cheerleaders and he is genuinely having fun.

Cheerleading is a physical activity that he’s actually quite good at, throwing Karen around with ease and watching her fly. And for once he isn’t being pushed around.

A part of him knows that he shouldn’t be having fun, that he should have never even offered to do it and play it off as trying to get a date if someone asked. But it’s hard to keep the happiness away or not reply to the high five Lisa offers when they pull off a tricky stunt.

So, it’s not until the basketball team takes a break and he is spotted that the pit in his stomach, that he felt when he first offered, returns. He’s holding one of Karen’s legs when he hears Billy sneer: “Look at that, Harrington’s turned from a king into a princess.”

He can’t risk hurting Karen, so he grits his teeth as he hears the rest of his former team snicker. The stunt still needs to be completed, so Steve tries to tune them out as they bounce so Karen gets the height she needs for a flip.

Once she is safely on the ground, Steve looks at his old teammates, who have all collected to laugh at him. His cheeks burn with shame and he looks to the ground. He just wanted to help, do something nice for a change.

A hand on his arm, makes him look up. Lisa is looking at him with a kind and concerned look. She quietly says: “You don’t have to stick around. We get it. Mary will get better and we’ll pick up training Monday again.”

Steve is quite tempted to take her offer. To just run and be a coward, because a coward is better than being tossed for the tigers. Being a coward is better than being a queer.

However, before he can, Molly is speaking up. She overheard what Lisa said and doesn’t want to stop training. She needs Steve there. She crosses her arms and says: “All of you stop laughing right now, or you’re not getting a date from a cheerleader for the rest of the year. Steve was gentleman enough to offer help when we needed it. Maybe take an example.”

That shuts the boys right up. Steve knows what they talk about in the locker room, almost all the boys there want a date with a cheerleader. A bit of fun at Steve’s expense isn’t worth blowing that chance over.

Billy’s face goes through an amusing journey of emotions. In the end he scoffs and turns away with a: “Let the ballerinas do their thing.”

Molly’s face contorts in a hateful look, before she takes a deep breath and lets it go. Steve honestly admires her ability to do so.

She turns back to Steve and puts on big eyes as she clasps her hands together and says: “Please, Steve, stay for a little. We really appreciate your help. You’re such a gentleman, I mean that, you know. A knight in shining armor. Please, stay a little more, we’d all owe you.”

If he hadn’t grown up around his mother and seen how Molly plastered on the dainty, pleading eyes, he wouldn’t have realized this was a manipulation. She is playing into his masculinity and implying he could score a date if he stays.

Luckily for Molly, Steve is having too much fun to turn down a reason to continue, so he pretends to fall for it. He puts on his best smirk and replies: “I mean, how could I refuse a lady in need of help.”

She brightens up, this time the smile is genuine and Steve feels even better about his decision to fuck what anyone thinks. He has already been kicked to the bottom of the ladder. If he has to be here, he might as well do something fun.

He discovers that cheerleaders train almost more rigorously as the basketball team. He is there for another hour, running through the drills again and again. By the time they go home, he at least knows where to stand to not be in the way, though the arm movements escape him.

As he leaves, Lisa gives him a soft smile. She isn’t the loudest, but Steve quite likes her calm and steady presence. Throwing Karen around together has created a bit of a bond. So, he smiles back and says: “Bye, Lisa.”

“Bye, Steve,” she says. “Thank you for staying. Molly has been really stressed about practice lately.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he tells her, looking around for a second, before he admits: “It was quite fun actually. You girls are crazy strong. I never realized.”

That makes Lisa let out a laugh and she grins: “We’re full of surprises,” before they truly say goodbye and go their separate ways.

Steve has been avoiding showering at school with the basketball team out to get him, so he gets into his car in sweaty clothes. Today he’s relieved his parents are never home. Explaining why he’s sweaty in his day clothes to his father would likely be the last thing he did.

Another thing he is relieved about, is that it is weekend. He hopes that it either doesn’t go the rounds that badly with no one stuck in one building and that by the time Monday rolls around the excitement will have died down.

He gets radioed by Dustin, asking him to drive him and the rest of the nerd squad to the arcade. He agrees easily, needing the distraction.

Because what Steve hadn’t counted on, is how the cheerleading would get stuck in his head. He had expected it to be a one time thing, something nice that would keep his mind of basketball for a bit, but instead he can’t help but think back on how much fun he’d had.

Cheerleaders have a very different team dynamic from basketball. There is more yelling of good jobs and needing to work together, instead of people trying to steal the spotlight and pushing each other around. It was quite nice.

Plus, it felt great to exercise again. And it felt much more like a team sport with Karen needing to trust him and Lisa to keep her upright and to count on Lisa to do her part, while Steve did his. He can’t deny that a part of him wants to do it again.

So, he drives up to Dustin’s house, then the others and listens to them gush about the campaign Will is running, making the shy boy blush. Then they move on how Max still has the high score, but she’s gonna meet them there and Dustin will observe her strategy, then beat her.

Steve doubts that, Max is a beast in the arcade. However, he lets Dustin live in his world as he watches them go nuts, lending the group quarters when they start to come up short.

He muses that these kids have a hobby they like. He used to have that, but basketball is kind of off limits right now. Even playing just for fun is ruined, since those games are mostly the basketball team or people who are friends with the basketball team. All of whom now hate Steve.

He still shoots some hoops alone in his backyard and swims laps in the pool (albeit with less ease after Barb), but he wants to do something with other people again.

Once more his mind drifts to cheerleading, but he quickly pushes that thought away. Cheerleading is for girls, he already got enough shit as is, he doesn’t need more. Besides, Mary will return and they won’t even need an extra person.

It’s not going to happen, so he should let it go and find something new.

“For the last time, zoomer isn’t a thing,” Mike complains loudly. Lucas jumps to Max’s defense at that, something that isn’t appreciated and the group devolves into squabbling over DnD categories again.

Steve wonders if he should pick up DnD. Dustin has explained it to him a few times, but it sounded hard and the thought of having to face Eddie Munson and his crew made Steve’s stomach churn.

He knows it’s his own fault that such a group will probably not welcome him with open arms, but it still isn’t a great feeling. Now that he is paying attention to others than the basketball team more, he can’t deny that the Hellfire club seems to like each other a lot more. Something that Steve will never get to experience, because he burned those bridges before they could even form.

Maybe he could join band. His parents forced him to learn piano when he was younger, though he doubts piano is part of band. Besides, he has seen the people at the band table. He likely won’t be welcome there either.

Honestly, at this point the only place he might not get shunned is the Hawkins High school newspaper, but that will be because of Nancy and Jonathan, which will only make it all the more mortifying. No thanks.

Contemplating his position, he lets out a deep sigh. Then yelps when a voice next to him suddenly asks: “Are you okay, Steve?”

He looks down to see Will looking up at him with concerned eyes. Steve forces a smile onto his face and assures the kid: “Yeah, baby Byers, I’m okay. You doing good? Need a quarter?”

“No, it’s fine,” Will tells him. “I was just asking, because you look sad. Mom told me to keep an eye on you. She wants to make sure you know you can talk to her about what all happened. You sure nothing’s bothering you?”

Will says it with the ease of a kid, who isn’t fully aware of when they are sharing too much, but the words hit Steve right in the chest.

After the Upside Down bullshit, he hasn’t been sleeping as well and there is no one really to lean on. He is distracting himself with school and driving the kids around. His parents aren’t home to notice anything, yet here Joyce is, showing more care than any adult ever has for Steve.

He has to swallow as to not break down and ruffles Will’s hair as he clears his throat. “That’s sweet, kid, but I’m good. I promise. Just thinking about school.”

At that Will nods with understanding and it hurts that this little kid knows more about what Steve is going through at his age. No one should have to struggle with kids being mean, but Will especially doesn’t deserve it with all he has been through.

To distract from the moment, he holds up a quarter and says: “Wanna bet I can beat Dustin’s Pac-Man high score?”

Will giggles: “He’ll be so mad if you do. It’s his only pride after Max took over everywhere.”

“Lets go boil his blood,” Steve tells Will, even though he isn’t even good at Pac-Man. However, it will make Will laugh and then he can make the kid try, paying for it, because he saw how Will ran out of coins a bit ago.

The weekend passes further until it is Monday and he is parking at the school. He isn’t looking forward to walking in there, not able to predict what he’ll find. He doesn’t like being unprepared in social situations.

As he walks down the hall, he gets a few weird looks, but no one says anything about it. Maybe Molly’s threat about the dates worked and no one is daring. Steve hopes so.

His luck doesn’t hold up, sadly. During first period a note is handed to him with a crude drawing of him in a cheering costume, the word princess written above it. The door to a classroom is opened for him with the comment: “Ladies first.”

Steve honestly finds it more childish and annoying than hurtful, except that it keeps hitting home what he already knew. That he wasn’t supposed to do that and there is something wrong with him, because he actually enjoyed himself, because he even thought of doing it.

Because cheerleading is for girls. It’s not for boys and the fact that Steve did it and enjoyed it means that somewhere in his brain there is something wrong with him. He already knows that there is something wrong with him, but having it spelled out for him?

It’s soul crushing.

By the time lunch period rolls around, he already knows that he doesn’t want to be in the cafeteria right now. It’s still too cold for anyone to sit outside, besides stepping out for a smoke. So, he sets up camp on a wall outside and eats his lunch. Rather cold than a target.

About halfway through lunch, he hears someone approaching. He steels himself for whatever is coming his way. He turns around, surprised to see it’s Molly and Heather, Lisa running after them as if she is trying to stop them.

She doesn’t make it in time, because Molly is already there. She is staring him down and Steve wonders what she has heard to make her look like that. Uncertain, he asks: “Can I help you with something?”

“Emma broke her leg,” Molly says in lieu of an answer.

“Okay?” Steve replies.

“We need someone to take her place in the competition two weeks from now,” Molly explains further and it starts to click what she is asking.

“No,” Steve denies immediately. He wants to say yes, he would love to do more if he were to listen to the little voice in his head, but he can’t. He has already seen what just one time helping out did to the tatters of his reputation, he can’t imagine what everyone will think or say if he took part in a competition.

Frustration creeps into Molly’s face and she protests: “But Lisa said you told her you had fun. You were good at it. Why not?”

“Molly, no.” Lisa is finally there. She looks apologetically at Steve and says: “I didn’t know she would do this when I mentioned it. I’m sorry, Steve.”

She looks genuinely distraught and Steve instantly feels bad for her. They had built up the most camaraderie together. She obviously felt the same and despite the fact that they needed someone, there was already enough solidarity between them after one practice that she would stick up for him against the cheer captain. That never happens in basketball.

“Let her try,” Heather cuts in, backing up the cheer captain. From what Steve had seen, Heather isn’t afraid to stop Molly if she thinks the other goes too far. Right now she apparently agrees with her friend, though.

Lisa sends him another apologetic look that he answers with a reassuring smile.

Molly gets the attention back on herself and says: “Look, I know why you’re saying no. Trust me, I get it. But this competition is the biggest of the season. It’s statewide and there will be college scouts there. You don’t understand, I need this competition to go well.”

She looks at him with intense eyes and Steve knows this so well. Right now she isn’t trying to manipulate him, she is talking to him as a fellow athlete, whose only chance to get into college is a sports scholarship.

And a part of Steve wants to think fuck it and say yes. He is already hanging on the bottom, might as well do whatever he wants. But he can’t be like the party, like those kids who don’t care and just have fun. He can’t be anything but a Harrington.

“It’s just two weeks,” Heather pleads. “The competition is in two weeks. We’ll train every day so you get it down, you do it once and then you can walk away. We won’t ask more than that.”

“I can’t,” Steve says, sounding apologetic. “You know, I can’t. I should have never offered to help Friday. I don’t even know why you would want to associate with me. You’d be better off trying to convince one of your own friends.”

Molly huffs: “All of our friends are already on the cheer squad.”

“And most girls aren’t able to get strong enough to do the lifts in two weeks,” Lisa adds quietly, joining her friends. She obviously also wants him to say yes, even if she feels bad for how his words were being used against him.

Heather agrees too: “And we can’t teach them how to stunt or catch either in that time. We already know you can fill in as a base. Emma is a base too.”

The more they beg, the harder it is for Steve to say no. He doesn’t want to say no, they all know it, but he has to. He will only be here for half a year more, then he’ll be off to college. He’d like to say in one piece until then and this will be counterproductive.

“Think of it as a deal,” Molly tells him.

“A deal?” he repeats.

“Yeah, the cheer squad is big,” Molly explains. “At least one of us is in all of your classes. We can offer you protection, a social barrier and you can pay us back by doing the competition.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Steve scoffs, though it is quite obvious to everyone in Hawkins High that Steve is a prime target without backup. Now that he stopped performing King Steve, it’s like everyone can see all that is wrong with him.

Clearly Molly thinks the same, because she raises her brow at him. She says: “I’m serious, Steve. I know it’s nonsense, but we’re the girls the guys want to get with and the other girls want to be. And cheer squad sticks together. When Tommy harassed Karen at a party, we all agreed he wouldn't get a date. And look at him. He’s with Carol now.”

Steve remembers the cheer squad turning against Tommy, neither of them had ever figured out why until now. Carol has always considered herself too cool for the cheer squad and Steve wonders if her dating Tommy is a rebellion against them.

“If you say yes, Billy won’t have another date with a cheerleader ever. You’ll sit at the cheer table surrounded by girls. If one of the basketball boys wants a date, they have to be nice to you,” Molly lays it out again. “Just think about it for a second.”

Molly is terrifying, Steve decides. If she ever decides to go into business, she’ll be unstoppable. It’s hard to find reasons to say no. He likes it and his father isn’t even home to be mad about it. His parents will be back next month, by that time everyone will have forgotten about this. They’ll never even have to know.

“Does the deal still stand after the competition?” Steve asks. He is also the son of a business man, he might not like it, but he knows the trade well.

“It sticks till the end of the year and if I make it into college and you have to repeat a year, it extends to next year too,” Molly promises. “Lisa will ensure it.”

“I don’t think that will happen,” Steve protests, but he feels quite relieved. He holds out his hand and smiles: “You got yourself a deal.”

“Yes,” she cheers, shaking his hand, before using the movement to pull him from the wall. “Come on,” she tells him. “No more moping outside. It’s way too cold.”

The four of them make their way inside. Steve is a big believer in seeing is believing, so he still braces himself when they enter the cafeteria. However, no one is willing to risk a cheerleader getting caught in the cross fire.

He gets many glares, but he has long since learned to keep his head up and ignore it as he follows the girls to their table. When he gets there, multiple faces erupt in smiles and Karen excitedly asks: “Did you agree?”

Steve is taken aback by how happy they all are with the news. All of them practically cheer when he nods and they pull him in their midst as they start explaining the competition to him. It’s overwhelming in a good way. Their excitement is infectious and it’s the best lunch period he’s had since before Halloween.

When lunch period is over, Heather hooks her arm around his and smiles: “We have History right now, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, a bit stunned how seriously she takes it without making a big deal out it. He should probably be embarrassed that he is being protected by a group of girls, but he can’t bring himself to care much when Heather rips up the note before it reaches him and he isn’t tripped up again in the hallways.

He has an escort for the entire day and after the last bell has rung, Susan walks with him to cheerleading practicing, because that is what he has agreed to.

This time, he knows better than to try and do this in his normal clothes, so he changes in a toilet stall, feeling a sense of solidarity with all the less sporty kids he’s seen doing that throughout the years.

They start with a warm up, which Steve takes very seriously after how sore he’d been all weekend, as he ignores the looks of the basketball team when they see him stretching with the cheerleaders in his gym clothes.

Those fucker probably thought he would be running far away from them and not dare to do anything they would dislike ever again. Steve feels a smug sense of defiance as he moves to touch his toes.

The others easily slide into splits and Steve honestly has no clue how they do it. Lisa makes eye contact with him from where she is relaxing in a split and quirks a brow at his confused expression, like she can’t understand what is weird about the situation.

“How do you do that?” Steve asks as an explanation. “How are your legs not killing you right now? That’s so fucking impressive.”

Understanding dawns on her face and she softly laughs: “Practice and patience. I’ve been doing cheer since middle school.”

“Wish I could do that,” Steve comments.

“Don’t let coach hear that or she’ll make it her mission to get you there and let me tell you, she is a hardass,” Lisa informs him.

Steve honestly hadn’t considered the fact that the cheer team would also have a coach and anxiety creeps up at the idea of having to face her. Before he can bolt, they’re interrupted by Ms. Miller, who teaches geography. “Everyone gather around,” she calls.

Reluctantly Steve follows after the girls, trying to stay out of sight of Ms. Miller. However, it’s for naught, because Ms. Miller asks: “Molly, have you found someone to replace Emma?”

“Yes, coach,” Molly says. “Steve is helping out.”

Ms. Miller frowns and Steve feels the heat gathering in his cheeks as everyone parts so she can see Steve. Awkwardly he smiles at her and waves. “Uhm, hi, Ms. Miller.”

“It’s coach Miller here,” she tells him. “I expect you to take this seriously. Are you able to do that, Steve?”

“Yes, coach,” the answer comes naturally.

Coach Miller smiles: “Good to hear. Do you have any clue what we’re doing?”

“Uhm, I subbed for Mary Friday, but other than that, no clue,” Steve answers honestly. “Except that it’s for a competition.”

Surprise flashes over coach Miller’s face at the confession, but it is quickly replaced by glee. She claps her hands together and blows her whistle: “Alright everyone, we’re going through the whole thing from the top. Slowly. Make sure Steve knows what’s happening next.”

Everyone immediately starts moving. For a second Steve stands there unsure of what to do, then Heather comes up to him and smiles: “You’re in my group. Come on.”

He easily follows her as she walks towards two other girls. She introduces them both. First she points to a Latina girl with a high ponytail. “This is Sofia, she’s the other base. Look to her for clues.”

Steve nods and shakes Sofia’s hand. He doesn’t have any classes with her, because he thinks she’s a junior. But he has seen her around in Nancy’s AP Honor courses when they were still dating.

“And this is Chrissy, our flyer,” Heather introduces a red hair shy looking girl.

“Hi,” she greets.

“Hello,” Steve replies with a smile he hopes is reassuring. He’s pretty sure the girl is a sophomore, who knows him only by reputation. He doesn’t want to scare her.

After the introductions, Steve is positioned into the starting position. They go through the entire routine at a snail’s pace to ensure Steve can follow along. Today they’re just focusing on being at the right place, tomorrow they’re primarily running through stunts and he’s told that the arm movements will come later.

Like Friday, Steve is having a blast. Sofia is super smart and hilarious. She makes all sorts of jokes under her breath that have all of them struggling not to crack up under the harsh gaze of coach Miller.

Chrissy is also nice and very caring and enthusiastic when she gets out of her shell a little. The only thing is how tiny she is. Steve feels like he’ll break her ankle if he holds her too tightly.

The atmosphere is also so much more fun. Coach Miller is strict much like the basketball coach is, but she still yells out encouragements too. And between the cheerleaders themselves, they’re constantly calling out: “Well done!” or “Oh my god, that was so good!”

If anyone in the basketball team were to do that, they would’ve gotten weird looks and called a fag or something. Steve doesn’t miss it, but he’s sad that all of them are told not to even encourage each other. The most they are allowed is a slap on the back. It doesn’t seem fair.

But he alone can’t change anything about that, so he finds himself in the limbo of smiling when he gets a compliment, but being too awkward to say anything himself as practice goes on.

At they end they all do their cooling down together. Molly takes a place close to Steve and grills him the entire time about how confident he is he can get it before the competition. Steve assures her that he will, though he adds that he doesn’t know if he can keep smiling. “I don’t even know how you all do that,” he tells her.

Molly laughs at that and answers: “Oh, Steve, you are such a guy, you know.”

“What?” he asks, a bit confused and unsure what could have gotten that response.

“Come back to me when you walked a day in heels,” she says instead of answering. “We’re used to smiling through the pain.”

Steve privately thinks that doesn’t sound very healthy, but he keeps his mouth shut, unsure he wants to have this discussion.

They disperse to the changing rooms. Steve contemplates going home sweaty again, but he’s in just his shorts now and it’s still way too cold outside for that. Plus, the basketball team is still going, so he hurries through his shower, hoping he’ll be done, before they get there.

However, they’re done quicker with their punishment laps than Steve expected. So, he’s in the middle of pulling his shirt on when they flood into the changing room.

For a second both Steve and the team freeze, staring at each other in some sort of stand off. Then play is pressed again and Steve is suddenly face to face with Billy, who spits: “What, hanging out with the freaks and little girls wasn’t enough for you, Harrington?”

Steve takes a deep breath, trying not to let it get to him. He replies: “I’m just helping out, Hargrove, you know, doing something nice? Ever heard of the word nice? Or did you skip that lesson in kindergarten?”

Billy bristles and steps forwards, pushing Steve back onto the bench. He gets right up into Steve’s face, who is hit in the face with the stench of teenage boy sweat. He wrinkles his nose, which is the wrong thing to do, because he is grabbed by the front of his shirt and Billy spits: “Those girls can’t help you here. I’m not done with you.”

“Well, I am done with you,” Steve answers coolly, reaching for his bag. He has tried fighting Billy before, that didn’t work out. Now he just hopes he can flee. Let him be a coward, it’s not like anyone here still respects him.

Anger flares up in Billy’s face again and he reels back, probably to hit Steve. However, he is still holding Steve’s shirt, but Steve never managed to put it on properly. So, before the hit lands, he slithers out of it and onto the floor, rolling away and snatching bag as he shoulders his way through the rest of the team, who are luckily too stunned to stop him as he breaks free.

In the hallway, he runs into Lisa, who looks at him in surprise. He looks downs, realizing he’s shirtless and gives her an awkward smile. “Uh, this is intentional?” he says.

“Harrington!” they hear Billy bellow from the changing room and Steve starts power walking away from the changing room, pulling Lisa with him and putting his sweaty shirt on again.

“Are you okay?” Lisa asks with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve smiles at her. “Just going to change at home next time.”

“For what it’s worth, I think it really sucks that they’re treating you like that over this,” Lisa tells him genuinely.

“I get it,” Steve shrugs. “I mean, it’s not exactly conventional, you know. Everyone probably thinks it’s a little weird. Hell, I don’t even know why I offered Friday.”

“Still, you’re just doing something nice,” Lisa argues, a small frown on her forehead. She isn’t the fighting type, but she does get frustrated.

“Don’t think they care,” Steve laughs. “They already didn’t like me before this either. They just have something else to hold against me now.”

Lisa’s frown deepens, but she doesn’t say anything.

Steve honestly doesn’t feel like talking about it, so he changes the subject by asking: “You have a car, or want a ride home?”

“I mean, if you’re sure,” Lisa says.

“Of course,” Steve says. “It’s no trouble. And you can tell me more about the terms on the way. I have no clue what coach Miller is telling us 90% of the time.”

That makes Lisa laugh and they set off towards the parking lot together. Luckily, Billy doesn’t try anything with Lisa nearby. Steve tries not to question it too much. He’s tired of trying to figure out what Billy is thinking.

[spacebubblehomebase]

Helllo i Love your art more than i love donuts and thats ALLOT.but my boy lucifer can have babys,like i dont even know how that works!make it make sense! I just wanna say thank you again for curing are boredom👍🏻

You are SO right that is high praise indeed! I'm honored! =D So here. Have a donut! 🍩🍩🍩 As for Luci, let us turn to the world's favorite 700k+ words old man fanfiction that is The Bible (tm) as according to their lore, it's been canonically stated that angels are genderless for they are beings made of the Pure Holy Spirit and- Holy SHIT! What do you know??? Our dear depressed duck dad was an angel himself and in some depictions Lilith is infertile as was her punishment for her freedom! The more you know! -Bubbly💙

(LMAO. My guy's been traumatized. Once is enough XD)

[redlikerozez]

悪魔の巫女 | Akuma no Miko | The Devil's Shrine Maiden (08) written by RedLikeRozes

Chapter 8: Gladiolus (approx word count 5k)

Summary: Matsumae, upon remembering past victories, now has to face the consequences of winning the game.

Gladiolus - victory, pride, remembrance

Content warnings for this chapter: abuse (like a lot… her father is basically just evil), period-typical child brides

(Masterlist)

She should’ve known better, really. Things never turned out too well for her when she bragged about winning.

Matsumae had never been one to boast very often. The first time was when she was a girl of only eleven years old.

“I won! Mama, look! I won!”

A light chuckle escaped her mother’s mouth and she patted the head of the victorious little girl. Her dark brown eyes sparkled brightly up at her mother with immense pride in the golden sunlight of the afternoon.

“That you did, my little flower,” she replied warmly.

“Again, again!” the girl demanded, already scraping the Go stones from off the wooden board to set up again.

While her daughter may have boundless energy and motivation to play Go nonstop for hours, her mother was beginning to lose her interest — and, most importantly, her patience with the strategy game — especially with her young daughter for an opponent. Her mother hadn’t lost a game since teaching her daughter how to play up until now. Of course, she’d only let her win to end the game quickly, but her daughter didn’t need to know that.

“You have finally bested me,” her mother resigned. “Let’s take a break so I can regain my strength to play you again tomorrow.”

The little girl crossed her arms and frowned at her mother’s proposition. “No. I want to beat you again, now. If we don’t play right now, I may never win again! It has to be right now, Mama!” she huffed indignantly.

“My dear-” her mother tried to reason before being interrupted.

“Listen to your mother, you insufferable brat,” spat her father’s voice from the doorway where he had appeared. “Wife, you spoil your daughter too much, filling her head with useless things like games. She’s become wily and stubborn. She’ll never be a good wife.”

Both figures in the room who were so full of life and gaiety only seconds before became instantly demure and stiff at the presence that entered the room.

“Maybe I should find a better wife who would actually give me a son and properly discipline children.”

The slap to his wife’s face was one without mercy.

“Forgive me,” she said, bowing her head and holding her hot cheek with a cold palm. The girl, upon seeing her mother bow, did the same.

The girl suddenly felt her hair tugged upwards roughly and winced in pain, shutting her eyes tightly for what usually followed. Go stones spilled out of the girl’s lap and clattered onto the floor.

“Stop this nonsense, child,” he ordered harshly. “If I see this stupid game again after I leave this room, you’ll be sorry.”

“I understand, Father,” she whispered in a small voice, holding back a choking sob in her throat. 

The iron grip on her hair released and she dropped to the floor with a sigh of relief. Two terrified eyes watched his figure walk out of the room with a small bug-like monster buzzing around his head like always. Her mother never seemed to notice it. Before he left, he made sure to kick over the wooden game board, scattering what was left of the stones all over the tatami mats.

Once she was sure her father was out of earshot, a silent tear fell from her once-sparkling eyes and she crawled over to her mother’s lap.

“I’m so sorry, Mama,” she whimpered into her mother’s chest in a barely audible voice.

“Shh, little flower,” her mother comforted, stroking her back soothingly. “Why don’t you go find Lady Yoriko and resume your studies for the evening? Your father and I would be grateful.”

“Yes, Mama,” she acquiesced after a deep breath.

Lady Yoriko was their family’s live-in teacher and mentor for their daughter. She was a high-born lady of the court and was instructing the Byouma’s daughter in the ways of being a proper lady, something her mother had very little experience in, being born and raised in a wealthy farmer’s house. The Byouma’s had only recently gained wealth from the father’s successful and shrewd business as a merchant, finally making a name for himself after being injured in battle when he was a young man. His injury had gotten him honorably discharged from the shogunate army, and despite struggling for some years, it seemed that his luck had finally turned around.

With this newfound prosperity, his only focus was on maintaining and prolonging his legacy. Marrying off his only daughter to some lord with either land or title was of the utmost importance if his wife continually failed to conceive a son. So employing a home tutor to ensure this future for his clan was a necessity. However, his daughter was a stubborn and impudent thing, frequently running away from her lessons, much to the chagrin of Lady Yoriko and the girl’s mother.

Even after being taught many skills required of a lady, her koto playing was nothing special. Neither was her singing, nor her calligraphy. But Lady Yoriko assured her father that she was a bright young girl with an active imagination and passion for poetry and reading. Lady Yoriko knew that with time, perhaps lots of time, the girl could become an elegant and proper lady fit for any wealthy man or even lord to marry, but only if she actually applied herself to her studies. 

Taking off down the hallway, the girl found her teacher out in the rock garden painting a delicate scene of sakura in bloom. She approached cautiously and quietly, hoping not to disturb the stern older teacher. 

She bowed her head behind the woman and spoke with a soft monotone and even voice, “Lady Yoriko, my mother and father request for me to go back to my lessons for the evening, if you’ll have me.”

The lady didn’t even look back. She only paused her brush stroke and raised a plucked eyebrow upon hearing the girl’s voice. 

“Is that so,” she said flatly, not really phrasing it as a question. “Begin by reciting ten times,” she ordered.

The girl internally groaned upon hearing the order and raised her head, careful not to show any emotion on her face and began reciting:

“Although its scent still lingers on the form of a flower has scattered away

For whom will the gloryof this world remain unchanged?

Arriving today at the yonder sideof the deep mountains of evanescent existence

We shall never allow ourselves to drift awayintoxicated, in the world of shallow dreams.”

“One,” counted her teacher, smiling softly at the perfect recitation. She picked up her brush to resume her painting. “Continue.”

The girl continued reciting Iroha nine more times, each more perfect than the last. When she had finished, Lady Yoriko finally turned around to gaze upon the girl with a pleased look on her face.

“What was it this time, then?” she asked the girl.

“Go,” she responded solemnly, scrunching up her nose slightly before remembering herself and correcting her face. “Father has forbidden me from playing the game ever again. And I finally won against Mother, too.”

Lady Yoriko’s plucked eyebrows raised again upon hearing this. “Go is a popular game in the court, even among ladies. I will speak with him about this matter. It will be useful for your studies to continue learning the game.”

The girl’s eyes widened, smiling brightly at her words. “Really?” she asked a little too enthusiastically for her teacher’s liking.

Lady Yoriko scowled and said, “It is improper for a lady to show such excitement. Please, remember yourself.”

The girl schooled her expression instantly and apologized. 

“Perhaps I can teach you some popular strategies if you promise to practice koto.” Lady Yoriko posited, clearly planning on bribing the girl to comply with her lessons.

The girl’s eyes were sparkling with excitement at her words, but tried her best to keep her face as still as possible.

“I promise I’ll do it,” she swore to her teacher.

She was already hiking up her kimono layers and scampering down the hallways to fetch the stringed instrument.

“Lady Byouma!” her teacher called after, horrified. “Ladies do not-” 

But she stopped herself. It was no use. The girl had already sprinted off into the manor out of sight. She shook her head disapprovingly and sighed heavily. 

“This child…”

The next instance was several years later, when she was newly fifteen.

Lady Yoriko had just slid open the shoji door to the room where the girl was currently practicing a melody on the koto that her mother had requested her to learn. She had no time to criticize her posture or finger placement, but shuffled through the doors holding two letters and began to announce the news.

Her father had requested a special performance later this evening before him and several important guests.

Upon hearing her mentor’s words, the girl struck a wrong, sour chord on the koto and stopped playing instantly.

“He said what?” she asked, absolutely bewildered, but trying to regain her composure. She cleared her throat and tried again, “Pardon me, Lady Yoriko. Can you repeat what you said?”

“Your father has requested a koto performance and recitation tonight at dinner to show off to several guests your progression in ladyship,” she said again, delicately.

It took her a moment to resume the song again, mind racing at her mentor’s words. Her father had never requested something like this before. 

“What is the occasion for Father to request such a thing of me?” she phrased carefully.

Lady Yoriko hesitated and listened to the girl play music for a moment before speaking. “My lord has informed me that he has begun to receive potential offers for your hand in marriage, the most interesting being the son of a wealthy general close to the shogun. Consider it a test to see if you are a presentable option to your suitors. They are concerned about your aptitude as a lady and wife given your family’s background.”

She stopped strumming the instrument, taking in Lady Yoriko’s words and mulling over them in her head.

“Lady Yoriko, couldn’t you have told me this earlier?” she asked, trying not to sound as terrified as she felt. “I need time to prepare… I need-”

“Everything has already been arranged, but I only found out this morning,” she said grimly. “Your father only just told me or I would have undoubtedly told you sooner. Trust me, I am just as displeased with the timing of this affair as you.”

The same moment, her mother came in with two attendants trailing behind, panting and out of breath. They looked like they’d been running.

“Have you heard?” her mother asked. The girl nodded. “Then we must begin preparations immediately!”

It seemed like her father really hadn’t told anyone about this affair. Maybe he was secretly sabotaging the poor girl just to beat her for messing up later. Whatever the reason, the house suddenly became lively with servants bustling about trying to clean and make the house as suitable as possible for the important guests tonight.

As for the girl and her attendants, her mother and mentor, there was much to be done to make her presentable to men of such standing. Eyebrows needed to be plucked and drawn on, teeth needed to be dyed black, white foundation needed to be applied, and red lips needed to be painted. As for her clothes, she was dressed extensively in around fourteen layers of silk, each more intricate and lavish than the last.

It was the girl’s first time she’d ever been dressed up like a proper lady before. The first time she was being presented as a potential bride for wealthy suitors. Though thoroughly terrified at this proposition, she knew in her mind and heart that there was no room for error tonight. This was her one chance to prove to her father and the world that she was a lady and an adequate bride. 

She could only dream of finally being taken away from her father’s house to live with a new man and start a family of her own, full of love and gentleness. She had no idea what any of her suitors would be like, but truth be told, she didn’t think anything could be worse than her father.

Standing in the shadow of the paper screen door, she practiced reciting every poem she knew off hand and ghosted her hands over phantom koto strings.

“Presenting Lady Byouma Matsumae, only daughter of Lord Byouma Kojiro,” Lady Yoriko announced as she ushered an attendant to open up the shoji door to reveal the girl.

Matsumae blushed feverishly, hoping the foundation caking her skin would hide the uncouth color on her cheeks. She entered the room gracefully whilst covering most of her face with an ornate fan and quickly flashed a glance at the guests.

Her father sat in the middle with her mother at his side. There were two elderly gentlemen at his right and left, each with a younger man sitting at their right hand side, presumably their sons. The left men looked to be from the shogunate, with stiff posture and determined gazes, wearing the typical military robes of swordsmen currently off duty. The right men looked more relaxed and were wearing fine silks, similar to the dress of her father, probably merchants as well. 

Everyone watched her with anticipation as she floated to the center of the room and swished herself down in a flash on a floor cushion.

The two older men gasped and one son had his mouth slightly agape. 

“So elegant,” the military general breathed.

“Like a swan!” the merchant exclaimed.

She slowly lowered the fan covering her face and bowed to everyone in the room before her. Lady Yoriko took a seat a little ways behind her, watching with pride. When the girl picked her head up, she just stared at her father, waiting for his instruction with a practiced serene expression.

“As you can see, she has graceful features,” her father remarked. “Cheeks full like apples and lips thin like reeds.”

“Her eyes are as big and bright as a koi fish’s,” the merchant noticed, thoroughly entranced.

“Yes, but her nose is a little low and a bit too wide for my tastes,” noted the general.

Her father’s eyes narrowed at Matsumae briefly, as if blaming her for her own features.

“What, are you blind?” the merchant retorted. “She is quite beautiful, Lord Byouma.”

“Just wait until you hear her play!” her father encouraged the men who waited eagerly for the performance to begin.

He made a motion to Lady Yoriko. She shuffled over next to Matsumae and helped her carry the koto into her lap. She nodded at her pupil, whispering inaudibly to the rest, “Begin.”

She takes a deep breath and swishes her kimono sleeves out of the way and places her hands gently above the strings. Her heart was thrumming in her chest as she began plucking out the melody she’d practiced for years, nothing like the complicated melody her mother asked her to learn a couple weeks ago. 

She was nearly finished with the song when suddenly her mind fell blank. What on earth was the next chord? She couldn’t remember. She’d never messed up this part of the song before and for the life of her, she just couldn’t figure out the next note.

She paused her shaking hands and even shakier breath and stared down at the instrument in her lap in painful, awestruck, confusion. Wracking her brain for anything she could think of, her face twisted in horror and shock as she continued to draw a blank. It had been a couple seconds of silence at this point, surely not gone unnoticed by the guests.

Her panicked eyes searched around the room for answers. Instantly locking eyes with her mother, she found sorrow and disappointment staring back at her. Gazing to the figure next to her mother, her father was glaring daggers and curses into her heart and soul as the sickening high-pitched laughter of the bug-monster tittered about around his head. No one else seemed to notice or hear this.

The merchants to the left of her father looked worried and concerned while the military men to the right, especially the general, looked disgusted. He wasn’t even looking at her, his gaze was set on the floor, shaking his head. 

“See? This is what I was worried about, Kyotaro,” the general mumbled to his son viciously. 

And with that, he actually stood up and began walking out of the room. 

“I’ve seen enough of your daughter,” he mentioned. “We will be rescinding our offer. Thank you for your time, Lord Byouma.”

The son, Kyotaro, looked over to Matsumae with a sorrowful look in his eyes and nodded slightly to her before bowing to the host and taking his leave as well, following after his father.

Matsumae was trying to hold back tears at this point. There was no way she had fumbled her one chance at freedom so stupidly. She gently pushed the instrument off her lap with still shaking hands and reached for her fan to cover her face in shame.

Lady Yoriko was already taking the instrument away, a brief hand on her shoulder as condolences.

Her father was chasing after the general and his son, spouting numerous apologies and was practically begging for them to come back to no avail.

She flashed the fan in front of her face and looked away to Lady Yoriko who nodded at her. She moved to get up and leave the room.

“W-wait!” the merchant spoke up. “Will you still recite for us?”

Matsumae locked eyes with the eager man. His words stuck into her skin like knives. A part of her wondered if was only asking for pity’s sake. She looked back at her mother who nodded silently.

“If my lord wishes to hear me recite, then I will recite,” she said as evenly as possible, trying desperately not to let her voice break. 

She silently racked her fluttering heart for a poem that she could definitely remember.

The ever-vigilant Lady Yoriko spoke up upon seeing her start to panic again, “Does my lord have any requests? Lady Byouma is quite well-read.”

The merchant also began racking his brain for a while, which Matsumae was thankful for. It gave her some time to calm down and begin remembering titles and lines of poems and novels that she was familiar with.

The silence broke as a soft voice spoke up, “Does my lady know Genji Monogatari? It’s my favorite.” It was the son of the merchant. 

She flashed a quick glance to the son and nodded gently. He was a plain, but handsome man, maybe eighteen or twenty. His eyes were bright and kind. He leaned slightly forward on his calves, eager for her to begin. 

Neither of the two merchants seemed phased that she had just bungled her koto playing. Maybe she could still save herself.

She began in earnest, reciting each word perfectly. The two merchants perked up and leaned in even closer, dazzled with her storytelling. She grew more confident upon seeing their reactions and began adding voices and small actions to add more color to different parts of the story. 

Her father eventually came back in and returned to his seat. He didn’t bother looking up at his daughter or even listen to her recitation. She tried to block out the laughter of that cursed bug-monster that would chime in every now and then.

“...on rare occasions, despite all resistance, love did gain a hold upon him, it was always in the most improbable and hopeless entanglement that he became involved,” she recited.

At this line, she made direct eye contact with the son of the merchant. She saw a faint blush come to his cheeks and he looked away, embarrassed.

Maybe she really had saved herself.

Suddenly, her father spoke up, “Ok, that’s enough. We’ve heard enough of that, yes.”

She shut her mouth quickly and shrank back into her skin.

“Does the Lady Byouma possess any other notable skills other than koto and recitation?” the elder merchant asked. “How about haiku?”

“I believe we have heard quite enough out of the Lady Byouma,” he interjected bluntly, clearly still unsatisfied with her performance earlier.

“Can you play Go?” piped up the merchant’s son.

Matsumae looked at him and then to her father with bright eyes, hoping to be granted permission.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea-”

“I would very much like to play a game of Go with Lady Byouma,” the man said confidently but not rudely. “With your permission of course, sir.”

Her father narrowed his eyes for a moment and silently considered his options. The despicable bug that buzzed and swished around his head was laughing uncontrollably as he stayed silent. He made a motion to Lady Yoriko and she motioned a nearby attendant to go grab the wooden board and stones. Her father nodded to the son who thanked him in return.

The attendant came back with the game materials and another servant helped move up a cushion for the merchant’s son to sit on next to the board.

“Shall we begin, my lady?” he asked, sitting across from her with a nervous smile on his face. 

She nodded, smiling back at him.

After several minutes of near silence as the two played the game, only occasionally glancing up at each other to smile and then hurriedly look away. 

Finally, there was a winner.

“I believe that is the game,” she said, placing a final stone with pride in her eyes.

The merchant’s son looked at the board in awe, suddenly aware of his grave situation. 

“I resign. You win, my lady.”

“Indeed, my lord,” she said, smiling boldly. “I have bested you.”

He let out a chuckle and bowed his head. “That you have,” he spoke, intrigued with her confidence.

Her father said a couple more words to the merchant and his son, thanking them for coming and bidding them a safe trip back home. The son wasn’t listening to any of it. He was utterly enchanted with Matsumae, practically gawking at her the whole time, stealing glances whenever he could feasibly do so.

Matsumae was hiding her blushing cheeks with the fan. The son was enamored. There was no doubt he was still interested in her as a bride, even if the general and his son weren’t, even if she had completely made a fool of herself with the koto performance.

“We will be in touch, Lord Byouma,” the merchant assured her father. “We are very impressed with your lovely daughter.”

They left with their attendants and promised again that they would send correspondence of their decision in the coming days.

Matsumae, Lady Yoriko, her mother, and several attendants were helping Matsumae undress in her room. All fourteen layers of silk were whisked away to be cleaned and hung back up on the kimono racks, called ikou.

Without warning her father suddenly slammed open the shoji door, causing everyone inside to jump in surprise.

“Leave,” he commanded the servants.

The attendants bowed and left hurriedly. Same with Lady Yoriko. But her mother refused.

“She did nothing wrong, Kojiro,” her mother pleaded. “It was only a small mistake. Please, do not punish her for this.”

But he wasn’t really there. Left in the room, it was only Lady Byouma, Matsumae and her father’s wrath.

“Wife, leave,” he threatened.

“I refuse.”

He looked at her with an intense gaze before he slapped her so hard she fell to the floor.

Matsumae tried to remain calm. Internally, she knew the moment she messed up that things were bound to end up like this eventually. But what she didn’t expect was her mother trying to persuade him out of it.

He started with insults first. Calling her all sorts of names under the sun like “useless, screw-up, idiot,” she just closed her eyes and listened, trying to block out any emotion on her face as his words seared into her ears like burning hot coals.

Next began the worst part. His punches and kicks to her still-growing body, never failed to heal in more than a couple of weeks at most. It was lucky that she wasn’t allowed out of the house much or else people would see her skin and face decorated with bruises in various stages of the healing process. Only once had he broken her arm by accident, but even that seemed to heal fairly quickly.

Today, however, he seemed hell-bent on actually causing real damage to her as punishment for bungling her most promising marriage prospect. His blows had more anger to them than ever before, and more power. Sometimes it even felt like as he punched her, there was almost a second, slightly delayed impact to his attacks.

He was aiming mostly for her nose, spouting curses about how ugly and misshapen it looked. Next, he targeted her arms and hands in particular for forgetting the melody to the song. When he was finished, several of her fingers were twisting in directions that shouldn’t normally be possible.

She squinted through her already blackening eyes as he kept going. Usually he only did this for a couple minutes, but with his newfound anger, it seemed like he really wasn’t going to stop until she was dead or dying.

Seeing this intensity and animosity in her husband's eyes, her mother jumped in front of her daughter, shielding her from the onslaught for a brief moment.

Almost as if he had predicted this, he slammed his wife's head down, but he had miscalculated. The edge of her temple hit the edge of a piece of furniture before she crashed to the floor, growing still.

This seemed to halt him for the time being. He backed off and looked at his work, satisfied. He turned around to leave the room and call for a doctor, but he paused briefly to spit back in their direction as he left.

Her mother was never the same after that. She mostly sat still and had to be fed and bathed and carried everywhere. There were moments when sometimes she could recognize Matsumae or her surroundings, but for the most part these were fleeting minutes of clarity in a new forever of quiet stillness.

Matsumae prayed that her marriage would go through soon with that son of the merchant. She wanted to get out as quickly as possible and take her mother with her. 

It was two agonizingly long months later that the rejection notice came, saying that they heard of another maiden of similar beauty that had a larger dowry. That was the final breaking point for her father, his anger boiled over and he ran for the vitriol.

The last instance was just now.

She should have known better, really. Nothing good ever comes from her boasting.

Even encased in ice, she still found a smile across her lips as she heard the retreating footsteps of Uraume and her master.

It only just dawned on her that the game was over. A euphoric string of laughter escaped her mouth, something she hadn’t heard in a long time.

“I won!” she realized. “I won the game!”

Sukuna stopped walking upon hearing her outburst. Uraume looked back with indescribable fury and narrowed eyes at such disrespect.

She couldn’t stop laughing at the irony of it all. Neither of the two participants really expected this outcome. 

But she was technically right, Sukuna concluded.

He had promised not to kill her if she won the game. However, he never said anything about Kenjaku. Who knows what that creature would do if he got his despicable fingers on her. At this point, Sukuna didn’t really care what happened to her. As long as she was out of his sight, he couldn’t care less what Kenjaku or anyone else did with her.

Kenjaku, who had been watching the fight from further up the mountain, was grinning with malicious intent at the girl. He watched Sukuna and Uraume disappear into the mountains and slowly descended before the girl, approaching cautiously.

He toppled over a couple of limbs with his foot from the pile that had formed and smiled even wider.

“Truly remarkable,” he admired. 

Matsumae stopped laughing at hearing an unfamiliar voice and whipped her head around in the direction of the new signature of cursed energy that had approached. His cursed energy left a sting in her eyes and an acidic and bitter taste in her mouth, like she was about to throw up. 

Sukuna’s cursed energy reeked of death and pure strength and power, but this person’s cursed energy felt downright vile and evil. She’d never encountered anything like it before, and instantly snapped out of whatever mood she’d let consume her momentarily.

“Who… Or what are you?” she asked, still not sure if what was in front of her was even human or a curse.

“No one and everyone, I suppose. I am whoever I want to be,” he replied. This only served to confuse her further. “But who I am does not matter. I want to know, just what are you? And what is it that you can do?”

She didn’t know how to respond as she heard his strangely calm footsteps slowly walk up towards her trapped form. She started to panic internally, not wanting this person to come any closer and tried in vain to wriggle out of the ice trapping her lower half.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

There was a swift chop to the back of her neck and she fell unconscious.

A/N:

(Masterlist)

Words to know:

Ikou - kimono stand Go - Chinese strategy game played with white and black stones, sort of similar to chess Haiku - a traditional Japanese form of poetry composed of three lines with a pattern of 5-7-5 syllables each Sakura - cherry blossoms Iroha - a Japanese famous poem written at some point during the Heian era, it's a perfect panagram of the different kana in the Japanese syllabary (linked in works cited for the translation I found) Genji Monogatari - The Tale of Genji, one of the most famous early novels written at some point during the Heian era by Murasaki Shikibu (linked in works cited for the translation I found)

Works Cited

“Iroha.” Translated by Ryuichi Abe, Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 17 Feb. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iroha.

Murasaki, Shikibu. The Tale of Genji. Translated by Arthur Waley, eBook #66057, The Riverside Press Cambridge, 1925, The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Tale of Genji, https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66057/pg66057-images.html#Footnote_I_1, Accessed 4 May 2024. 

Thanks for reading this far! Comments and kudos are always appreciated and I will try to reply to all that I can. Feel free to ask any questions in the comments below! xoxoxo

Tags: @chaoticwinnercupcake @kariatenoh

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All writing and art posted by this blog is original work by ©RedLikeRozez. Do not reupload, translate, copy, or claim as your own work.

[shmowder]

Slow dancing with Yulia in some dimly lit bar, soft music in the background, and the chatter of patrons in-between nursing their drinks. You smell her cologne the closer she leans into you. Her lips glisten red, stained courtesy of the wine—the glass long forgotten on the abandoned table.

You lead, her leg resting its weight atop yours to prevent any discomfort movement would cause her. You're barely phased by her foot weighting on your shoe, carrying her through the restricted space with grace.

She smells of smoke, holding you tight, lips pressed thin, for she can't trust herself not to drown in yours. While a show of sodomy in broad daylight would be frowned upon—even in a peculiar town such as this—but no one would bat an eye at the two women kissing in a basement bar, chalking it up to alcohol and the fragile easily-impressionable feminine mind. This one bubble of absolute freedom the architect fashioned for all those who seek another bite of the apple still.

But Yulia bites her tongue into place instead. She cannot, words echo in her mind.

Not out of reverence for some higher power, neither heaven nor hell ever held an appeal for her. The equations on the chalkboard spoke of fate and only fate, no sin or virtue. for Sapphos eros for her lovers wasn't sinful, yet the desire Yulia held for you was anything but. It transcends all decency, threatens to steal the thin veil of civility she drapes over herself, and rip it to shreds.

Just for a taste of your lips.

So she lets you carry her, overindulge in the feel of your arms enclosed around her waist. No need to ache your heart with her perverseness; she'll take her fantasies with her to the grave.

As for now, as you sway her around, she can only dream.

[legends-of-time]

Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander Story) - Masterlist

Timelines:

19th and 20th Centuries

17th and 18th Centuries

Fraser Descendants (family tree)

Warnings:

Major Character Death, Minor Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Racism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, unhealthy relationships

Summary:

May 1744

He wriggles his toes, feeling his environment. He quickly realises how much his surroundings are constricted, his legs are tightly bound and he is being cradled in someone’s arms. He opens his eyes and sees a woman leaning over him and realises she must be the one holding them. She’s humming softly with a warm and happy smile. He can see that her skin is clammy and there are bruises under her eyes, the eyes that are amber, golden-brown as well as smoky topaz, but that doesn’t dim her smile as she gazes upon the person in her arms. She’s white and her brown hair surrounds her face in messy curls.

——

What if Claire and Jamie’s first baby survived and what if it had been a boy. How will the story change?

Chapters:

Chapter 1: Birth

Chapter 2: First Months

Chapter 3: Peaceful Family Life Disrupted

Chapter 4: Goodbyes

Chapter 5: New Beginnings

Chapter 6: A Fish Out of Water

Chapter 7: Conflict

Chapter 8: Sister

Chapter 9: Returning

Chapter 10: The Truth

Chapter 11: The Loss of Hope

Chapter 12: Coping with Change

Chapter 13: Finding Him

Chapter 14: Moving to the Past

Chapter 15: Loss

Chapter 16: Lost Family

Chapter 17: A New but Old World

Chapter 18: Reunited at Last

Chapter 19: Big Brother

Chapter 20: Coming Together

Chapter 21: Fathers

Chapter 22: Dreams

Chapter 23: Fathers and Their Archaic Ways

Chapter 24: River Run

Chapter 25: A New but Old Face

Chapter 26: Caught in the Act

Chapter 27: Family Time

Chapter 28: New Beginnings

Chapter 29: Waiting

Chapter 30: Old Dreams

Chapter 31: Inferiority Complex

Chapter 32: Community Swelling

Chapter 33: Purpose

Chapter 34: First Sight

Chapter 35: Is it Happily Ever After?

Chapter 36: Gifts and Awkward Conversations

Chapter 37: Unravels

Chapter 38: Lay Up Trouble For Yourself

Chapter 39: War Wins Land, Peace Wins People

Chapter 40: Life Goes On But The Threat Looms

Chapter 41: Building Arsenal

Chapter 42: Romeo and Juliet

Chapter 43: Baggage Weighs You Down

Chapter 44: Misunderstandings

Chapter 45: Should auld acquaintance be forgot?

Chapter 46: Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ

Chapter 47: Best Not To Tell

Chapter 48: Putting a Reluctant Ring on it 

Chapter 49: Unrequited

Chapter 50: Death and Rebirth

Chapter 51: Caught With Your Pants Down

Chapter 52: A Confession, a Warning and a Truce

Chapter 53: Snuffing Out the Messenger Bird

Chapter 54: Fighting to Survive

Chapter 55: We Have Always Had Each Other

Chapter 56: Waking in a Nightmare

Chapter 57: The Sounds Of Silence

Wattpad access

fanfiction.net access

Ao3 access

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

Once upon a Midnight Dreary Chapter 3

Tw: mentions of murder, violence, grief, insanity, and other dark subjects

Also this takes place around the 1800s, so be aware that some of the reactions are implied to be typical of the period. This does NOT reflect my perspective on mental health. Note: A bit of a tamer chapter. Not particularly my favorite, but it's to estabish more the setting.

Chapter 4 will be the introduction of Daisy and Nick. I am working on chapter 5

I will wait a bit for the poll to get more votes. I didn't intend it to make it a week, but it was the only option I had. I will eventually post it on AO3 soon

Previous chapter:

Next chapter

Library

Chapter 3: Interrogatory

My arrival at the psychiatric institution has become a blur of memories. It was ironic as I swore not to forget my first day, as it was a source of my deep hatred and revenge against the man who convinced everyone I was mad. I suppose that my tired brain decided to remember the hatred and pain I felt. I could recall being forced down to a stranded bed and being forced fed raw eyes, or it was something like that. The only thing that came to mind was being unable to throw up.

That was only a spoon of the misery I would be forced to live with…

The rest of my days were quite similar, due to the established routine by Dr. Gubberson himself. I would wake up in the middle of the night hearing the bells that announced my parents dead, being forced down to bed by the doctors and knock out until morning came. Then, I would be dragged by the doctors for examination, being force down some bitter medicine before eating whatever cardboard flavored mess they served me as my daily meals. Finally, I would be left inside a cold room, isolated. According to the doctors this would help me out to calm down. 

Only a fool would bite up that tale. I was sure that they placed me there to desperately break off my spirits until I complied and behaved accordingly to how they wished for me to behave. I learned to become a better liar and an actress. A good manipulator, in fact. I learned to adapt my behavior to become pleasant towards the doctors to force their defenses up. I became excellent at becoming mindless and swallowing down my rage every time I was referred to as a murderess. 

It was not an easy task to learn. My arms were swollen with bruises, and my wrists were purple due to the straight jacket, and the daily pushes from the doctors. I was rarely allowed to shower, and if so it would be in a humiliating manner that I refuse to address; but you can let your mind wander off at how monstrous I look. I was the embodiment of a mad woman, but I was stable as ever…

My parents memories were the main thing that kept me pretty much sane from my tortuous mornings. A reminder that I was not to be called mad. 

“She has become much tamer than once she initially arrived, Dr. Gubberson.” I remember how the doctors used to practice their speeches. Those fools, they were thinking they could fix what wasn’t even broken to begin it. Hearing them gloat was an utterly entertaining way to keep me in check. Knowing that I was sane was something I strive to maintain, just to imagine the faces of those idiots once they realized they wasted their time.

“She has regained some weight and no longer hisses at us!” The fools gloated. 

“I am sure the Captain would thank me for helping the wretched Ruckus girl to get her height straight!” I could simply smirk. Savoring my victory once I was able to prove my innocence. Getting please and starting to like the idea of a subtle revenge.

Oh yes, acting up as a little virus in their pathetic system. Getting at their weakest point and strike, but that was simply the seed of vengeance starting to slowly grow. It wouldn’t flourish until much later. 

This was my routine for the next two months, until summer came. I was starting to bore the doctors with my good behavior. I wasn’t exactly doing or exhibiting any sign of improvement besides my usual behavior. So, I was started to be left longer at that empty isolated room. Alone with my own thoughts as the doctors were trying to figure out what to do next. I suppose that they eventually realized I was merely adapting to their hostile behavior or that I haven't broken completely. Either way, their attempts to break me were fruitless, as they only grew little by little my desire to get my vengeance. 

Eventually, they decided to “attempt” to make me talk about a crime I did not commit just a week after the Captain that supported Dr. Gubberson, became a Commander. I did not care about this change, as it would be eventually shorted lived and I would perhaps have an involvement in.

A bloody involvement…one that lasted d around 7 nights of seeing the Captain rest.

“So, the damozel refused to say a word?” I remember hearing the captain speak from afar the day of his first visit. I believe he was speaking with Dr. Gubberson or one of his doctors. I could not tell as the other voice was almost like a whisper. The captain continued after a long brief of silence, where the person he was talking to finished speaking. “Well, it is not surprising at all. The only thing she ever talk once we met was that she was not insane.”

There was a brief silence from the Captain. Probably the other gent speaking. 

“Very well. I’ll do my best to make her talk.” The captain said. “They won’t last long before they break. Late Commander Breadstone would tell ya.”

There was a moment of silence before some laughs ran from the room. The Captain's laugh was strong, so strong as it was the most recognizable one I could hear. So, that was the only information I knew so far, as when I was taken by the doctors to some interrogation room, only the captain was there. There was no other sign or hint he was talking to Dr. Gubberson, so that’s only my major speculation.

“Ah Riley Anne Ruckus.” The captain greeted me. I did not respond but stared. It was my way of defiance, showing that I was not afraid of the idiot. He proceeded to ignore my silence and remarked. “I am not sure whether you look better or worse than I first saw you at the Ruckus’ manor.”

I was silent as ever. Not taking slightly any attempt at being hilarious or crude as serious.

“I’ve heard that you have become tamer or so it seems.” The captain said. “God only knows what is going into your messed up ill-head. At least…you have become quieter, and less defensive.”

I simply stared at him expressionless. Staring right into his eyes, telling him he wasn’t worth my time. He simply tapped the table with his fingers, becoming slightly annoyed at my silence. 

“So…you want to pretend to be mute. How adorable.” The captain huffed. He leaned towards me before gripping my chin. His fingers pressed her almost as he intended to break it. “I am sure you can talk, Riley. Don’t force me to make you permanently mute…”

I knew he was only trying to threaten me. He knew my confession was worth it. I could tell he wanted me to submit to his threats and confess I was a murderer. I simply stared defiantly into his eyes, ignoring the blood dripping from my lips.

I remember the hand of the captain trembling. He was starting to hesitate. 

“Release her now, sir!” One of the doctors ordered. The old man stared at him unimpressed. His hand did not leave my chin, not for a second. The doctor continued, this tine his tone become darker. “Dr. Gubberson will not tolerate the use of violence against one of our patients. He will not allow you to return or speak with Miss Ruckus if you break any bone or cause any injury to her.”

With that warning, the captain released my chin. I refrained from smirking at my small victory. 

“Very well.” The captain hissed. He stared at me furiously. “I suppose that I must find alternate ways to make you talk, don’t you? 

This was how I eventually learned about what happened to my home. After the captain’s death, the other policemen continued with his example. None succeeded, but they fed the fury that kept me alive…

“The bank took your inheritance from your parents.” He muttered with a sly grin. I remained calmed as I could, and refuse to give in into his attempts at provoking my anger. “The bank donated the money to the police force to their investigation of your father’s murder. So, you are peniless, Miss Ruckus.”

This came out to be a lie. I would eventually learn that after the will was handed to me. Sadly, that was the only lie told…

“Money is not up your interest? Ummm, perhaps I should talk about what happened to your parent's belongings.”  It was then when I slightly trembled. He took this as a sign to continue. “Your father’s clothes were sold to some rich folks along with your mother’s dresses. Her wedding dress was sold the highest, probably shredded to pieces by some seamstress.”

The dress my mother promised that I would have when I got married…the one my father fondly kept in his room and stare ever since she died….

I only took my pain as nutrients for my growing seed of vengeance. The captain continued on. “We Also sold your father’s books. All of them in fact. We thought you wouldn’t need them.”

The books my father collected throughout his life, and the ones we used to read when I was a little girl sitting on his lap. The ones that decorated the beautiful library of his study…

“You no longer have your beloved manor…” That was the last attempt he made. I forced myself not to cry. There was no use into giving any sort of weak feeling or emotion that could give an advantage of the cruel captain. As much as it pained me to hear how my parent’s legacy was slowly destroyed, there was nothing I could do myself.

The manor was eventually destroyed after the police gathered as much as they could for their investigation. Majority of our stuff was sold, even majority of our family paintings, and my mother’s collection of taxidermy over the years. One painting did remain, thankfully, but this is something that does far into my tragic story.

That was a long day. A tiresome interrogatory I went through. It was the first one to come, but certainly not the last. The captain would eventually visit me every single day, mentioning details, showing family values that were sold or gifted to charity. He was becoming desperate to make me shed a tear or break. I could listen to his heart beating louder, and louder. 

Sometimes I felt it underneath the ground, but I was so very gentle and cautious not to show I was well aware of that.

Eventually the Doctors and nurses themselves became tired and irritated with the lack of progress. Word eventually reached Dr. Gubberson himself. He momentarily cut out the Captains visits into twice a week, and demanded my treatment to change. That was the end of my straight jacket and being locked, isolated in a cold room. I was allowed to look more presentable myself and start to interact more among with the other prisoners of this hell.

According to Dr. Gubberson, I was no longer a threat. I was still mad as ever as ill, but he believed I would feel more comfortable to speak if I started to have interactions. That was the beginning of how I met two important people into my particular bitter tale:

Nicholas Nathaniel Nack and Daisy Charlene Danger.

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[bumblesimagines]

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 14

Request: Yes or No

Summary: After a failed assassination attempt, (Y/N)'s thoughts become filled with reminders of his family on the opposing side.

CW/TW: Typical Got/HOTD warnings, violence, Ser Erryk's death, not-so-subtle period typical sexism, Ser Alfred and Lord Celtigar are their own warnings at this point

someone get this man a ticket to the summer isles asap

~~~

His hobbies became less enjoyable with each passing day. His eyes skimmed the words on the page, reading them, but his mind could not process them due to the turmoil within. The days of devouring books, reading hundreds or more pages were gone, halted by the war seeping through the cracks of barely contained peace.

(Y/N) thought of his niece's son, and couldn't help but wonder what his sister thought of it all. Did she despise them, despise him? Did she believe them free of guilt or had her futile hope died when the sword sliced through her grandson's throat? 

He squeezed his eyes shut at the image, unable to think of the child without thinking of his own toddlers. With the death of Jaehaerys still fresh, everyone remained on high alert for a counterattack or another enemy taking advantage of the unsteady Realm by sowing more mayhem. Many'd chosen to remain neutral, some such as House Tyrell and House Greyjoy, but neither house seemed like the type to send assassins to kill children in their beds. Lord Tyrell was a mere boy whose mother ruled as regent and the Red Kraken faced his enemies head-on. 

A quiet sigh brought his attention to Elinda as the handmaiden followed Rhaenyra to finish braiding her hair, only for his wife to walk forward again, too lost in her mind to give Elinda enough time. (Y/N) closed his book and set it aside, a trickle of amusement pouring in when he took in Elinda's twisted lips. Rhaenyra stared toward the window, her hands tightly clutched and her brows fixed into a near-permanent furrow. Worry had never been a good look on her. 

"Nyra," He spoke, snapping her out of her distant trance. "Allow Elinda to finish working."

"Ah," Rhaenyra glanced over her shoulder at the brunette before snapping her head forward sheepishly, the skin along her cheeks gaining a soft pink color. Elinda, in all her patience, simply smiled and resumed working swiftly, her fingers moving automatically from the countless times she'd helped do Rhaenyra's hair. "My apologies."

"It is quite alright, Your Grace. Please try and lay down; it has been a weary day." Elinda spoke softly, finally finishing the long braid and resting it along Rhaenyra's back. 

With a sigh of agreement, (Y/N) twisted around to tug down the pillows resting against the wooden headboard before he leaned back into them and sunk into their soft cushion. Rhaenyra joined him soon after, tucking her legs beside his underneath the covers and fluffing up the pillows with the heel of her palms. Elinda watched them solemnly as she placed empty teacups onto a tray and approached the bed with a sympathetic frown. 

"You must sleep tonight," She told them gently, "Let me ask the maester for some draught." 

Rhaenyra exhaled heavily through her nose, her body naturally curling into his side once she placed her head on his chest. "Perhaps that would be best." She murmured and draped her arm across his stomach. His fingers crept up her back until his palm settled on the curve of her hip. "Thank you, Elinda."

"Of course."

Elinda crossed the room to continue tidying up, but her work was cut short when the door opened and a familiar man stepped inside. Immediately, the couple sat up in their bed with near-bated breath at whatever news he could possibly be bringing them at such an hour. Even Elinda straightened up, the calm of her features disappearing into worry. 

When the knight remained quiet as he stepped further into the room, Rhaenyra's brows furrowed. "Ser Erryk?"

The sound of a sword unsheathing echoed coldly through the room and dread settled uncomfortably in (Y/N)'s stomach. "Believe me," he spoke through gritted teeth, "I had no choice."

"Brother!" An angered shout followed the door being thrust open by a copy of the man already standing in their bedchambers. Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk, (Y/N) quickly realized, but who was who? (Y/N)'s arm shot out in front of Rhaenyra, his body scooting forward whilst his arm pushed her behind him. Her quickened breath filled his ears and her nails dug through the thin fabric of his sleeve as she clutched at his arm. "Do not do this. I beg you."

The twin who'd entered their room, Arryk, spoke heatedly but the slight tremble in his hand when he pointed his sword at his brother spoke for his true thoughts. "You are the one who betrayed us, Erryk,"

The two knights continued facing each other, one pushing forward and the other stepping back tentatively, the hesitation in their limbs keeping them separate until Arryk suddenly lunged toward the bed with a cry and his sword raised high. Rhaenyra yelped in surprise, her hands tugging and dragging her husband along with her as she scrambled backward until the two were pressed up along the headboard but thankfully, Erryk sprang into action immediately, blocking the swing of his brother's sword. Elinda dropped the tray onto the nearest table and ducked down behind it, her widened eyes jumping frantically between the couple and the brothers. 

"Elinda, go!" Rhaenyra called to the panicked handmaiden, her voice mixing with the frequent clashing of metal against metal. "Run and find Ser Lorent!"

Hurriedly nodding, Elinda scooped fistfuls of her dress into her hands and raced toward the open door where she disappeared into the hallway. The knights took a moment apart, their chests heaving and features concentrated, but (Y/N) caught the flicker of relief on one of their faces when Elinda's footsteps became distant. Ser Erryk.

"Come," He breathed to his wife, reaching around behind him to grasp her arm and pull her as he scrambled toward the edge of the bed where Erryk stood closest. The knight glanced over his shoulder and followed their movements, using his body as a shield when Arryk swung again. 

"(Y/N)," Rhaenyra whispered shakily, pressing herself against the stone collum and wincing with each clash of swords. 

When Erryk's leg was struck, (Y/N) took her wrist and ran, the clanking of metal that followed them making his throat tighten. Rhaenyra cried out when she tripped on the ends of her nightgown, forcing (Y/N) to stop and duck down toward her as Arryk's body tumbled forward and onto a vase with a shove from Erryk. He wrapped his arms around her swiftly and cradled her whimpering form close to his chest, heavy and quick pants leaving him whilst he watched the brothers swing at each other.

"Your Grace, My Lord!" Ser Lorent appeared, rushing down the steps leading further into their bedchambers and waiting for the knights to move away before he raced forward to them. "With me!" He ordered, one arm behind them to guide them toward the other door and the other arm keeping his sword trained on the two for any sudden movements toward them.

Wiggling on the doorknob, (Y/N) cursed in frustration when it wouldn't turn, the adrenaline flowing through his veins beginning to give way to panic fueled by Rhaenyra's whimpers and watery eyes. The knights had tangled themselves together, concentrating their fight on each other but with their features and injuries, (Y/N) could no longer tell who was who. They only watched hopelessly as one began strangling the other.

"We were born together," One wheezed, voice strained from the hands clamped around his throat. (Y/N)'s hand tightened on the doorknob, finding his eyes unable to tear themselves away from the sight and words spoken. Alicent, Alicent, Alicent. His sister, his twin, the other half of his soul and body. Had she known of this? No.. not even their father would think of such a thing... would he? 

"You parted us!" The other wailed through blood and tears, his body trembling from exhaustion and grief. Aching familiarity flooded (Y/N)'s chest and filled his eyes with salty, warm tears. "But I still love you, brother."

The one pinned between the floor and the wall dug his fingers into a cut on the other's leg, prompting a pained cry as he toppled over onto the floor. He dragged himself toward a tossed-aside sword on the floor as the other did similar. They stood up, faced each other, and charged, but instead of the dreaded clanging, (Y/N) heard the horrifying noise of cloth and flesh being torn into.

They held onto each other, stumbling and staggering through sobs.. until the dead weight of one forced the other to finally step back. The remaining twin panted heavily, his tears mixing with sweat and blood whilst he stared at the corpse of his brother. 

"Your Grace, My Lord," He exhaled heavily when he faced them on unsteady feet and quivering lips. He turned his sword onto himself, shoulders slumping with exhaustion as soft sniffling left him. "Forgive me."

(Y/N) blinked. "Erryk-"

His words caught in his throat as Erryk collapsed down onto his sword, impaling his midsection and covering the floor with blood. (Y/N) turned Rhaenyra toward him instinctively, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head into his neck. The late guards that'd stormed the room at the last second stared aghast at the bodies, both men familiar but only one had been loyal to their cause.

His eyes roamed down to the floor, meeting the blank blue eyes of Erryk. Was this how he and his twin would reunite? Forced to look upon the body of the other in the end, with no way of reversing time and doing it right? 

(Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut. When had been the last time he'd told Alicent he loved her?

"He is the basest of villains." Jace's voice held barely restrained anger in it, an emotion his son had grown so used to throughout his childhood. Always the storm, the spitfire, the one who lost his temper with mere words or looks. (Y/N) felt exhausted, too tired to deal with a son that reminded him so much of his younger self but when a hint of irritation flared in his belly, he remembered the wide-eyed, teary look on Jace's face upon seeing them alive and without injury before he'd rushed into their arms like a frightened child. "He sullies his brother's grave."

"They formed together in the womb, Jace." (Y/N) muttered, feeling the dirt escape between his fingers and onto the knights below. They said the dead often looked as if they were sleeping, but not even the Silent Sisters could hide the look of death on their faces; olive skin was now ghostly pale, and once pink lips a purplish tint. "They were born together, they died together. They were halves and now they're whole again. Leave them be." 

"We cannot fault him for keeping his oath," Rhaenyra added softly, tiredly, mimicking her husband and releasing the dirt clutched in her hands onto the bodies below. Grief had become a numbed feeling, one circling their minds but too muddled with exhaustion and muted anger to take them fully into its clutches once more. 

(Y/N) stepped away from the grave, unable to stand the sight of watching dirt slowly cover the twins any longer. He'd hardly slept, and the few moments of sleep had been filled with dreadful nightmares of what would come of him and his family. His uncle would send knights and soldiers out to help King's Landing, many among them being his blood. Gwayne came to mind specifically, his older brother with a level head on his shoulders but an eager desire to please their father.

The smallfolk and soldiers were always the first to die in conflict; it made him wonder if he'd ever see his brother again with eyes full of life.

"Father," Jace caught up with him, his curls bouncing and reminding him of Alicent in her youth when her curls had begun having some definition. He made a face and the tip of his ears turned a light red. "Apologies. My Lord." He corrected himself, eyes darting toward the knights and servants escorting them back to the safety of the castle. He was a little boy no longer but he thought himself too grown.

"What is it, Jace?" (Y/N) turned to him, studying the side of his son's face and being unable to stop himself from picking out the traits that reminded him of his family; a mesh of his mother and siblings' faces stared back at him whenever he gazed at Jace, from the curls of his hair to the slope of his nose. 

"Is it not..." Jace trailed off, the tip of his tongue swiping over his lips. "Is it not unjust to bury Ser Erryk alongside the man who attempted to kill him, who attempted to kill you and Her Grace? It's despicable what he did, what he chose to do. And... for Ser Erryk to..." 

Exhaling softly, (Y/N) looked forward. "Siblings are siblings but.. it's different with twins, Jace. You are born together, they are the first face you meet.. you are one soul, one heart, almost one body. I remember the pain of losing Corren, one of my older brothers. I can only imagine that very pain would be intensified tenfold if I were to hear of Alicent's passing."

"She is a traitor." Jace scoffed. "She placed the usurper on the throne. She wanted Princess Rhaenys to bend the knee to him. She-"

"Is still my sister." (Y/N) interrupted softly. "Just as Ser Arryk, traitor or not, was still Ser Erryk's brother. You may not understand as your brothers are too young to yet inflict any sort of betrayal... but it's complicated. There may be hate and grief and frustration but the love will linger.. the hope. You'll understand, someday." 

Jace frowned at that, jaw tightening. "I'm not a child to be coddled-"

"You will always be a child, Jace, to us." (Y/N) told him, a hint of a dry chuckle following. His gaze drifted toward the woman standing on a balcony, watching them with curious eyes. Their savior; the woman who'd alerted the guards of Ser Arryk's trickery. "You will always be the boy with round cheeks, gentle waves, and a penchant for trouble. Now, head inside and check on your brothers."

His hand grazed Jace's shoulder before he parted from his son, making his way up the cobbled steps where Lady Mysaria waited, her hands intertwined before her and the hint of a smile on her lips. Truthfully, (Y/N) had expected her to depart after giving her warning as some sort of way of evening out the field. They'd kept Daemon's promise and in return, she'd helped them. Yet, there she stood, gazing thoughtfully at him before the echoing shrill of Seasmoke brought their attention out to where the dragon flew. He'd grown restless in recent times, dancing in the sky after his flights and filling the air with his cries. 

"They are... curious creatures." Lady Mysaria spoke, seemingly captivated by Seasmoke. He hardly blamed her. He himself saw the dragons in fleeting moments, sometimes even allowing Rhaenyra to convince him to join her on a flight or two with Syrax. For the smallfolk, seeing a dragon close must've been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Seasmoke was a beauty with his pale silver skin but frightening in his bursts of irritation. He loved Laenor as much as a dragon could, (Y/N) knew that much. "Have you ridden one?"

(Y/N) nodded. "Before the youngest arrived, yes. Rhaenyra enjoys taking to the skies and she enjoys sharing her hobbies. I would not say it's a favored pastime of mine." His words drew a quiet laugh from her. 

Footsteps filled his ears and he glanced over his shoulder, his arm immediately extending toward his wife to coil around her waist. Rhaenyra gave a quiet sigh and leaned into his side, fingertips brushing away a loose strand of silver hair. She appeared conflicted at first but she wiped the look off her face to address Lady Mysaria with a polite smile, eyes briefly flickering to the dragon in the distance. 

"We were told you turned back from your ship to bring warning." 

"I was not believed at first." Lady Mysaria stated, her head remaining forward but her eyes flickered toward them, obversing and waiting. The sea breeze ruffled back her raven locks, and she turned to look at them. "What is the life of a queen worth these days?"

"You wish to be rewarded." Rhaenyra mused, withholding a heavy sigh.

A hint of a smile graced Lady Mysaria's lips, playful in a way but not mocking. "As I would think you would wish to reward me." She said, her brows briefly lifting and voice nearly drowned out by another cry from Seasmoke. (Y/N)'s attention darted between the two, trying to focus on the woman before them, the woman he now owed his life to, and the dragon that'd once belonged to his close friend. 

"What price would you set?" Rhaenyra questioned, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her voice tight and guarded, slightly worried. Maybe even paranoid. Now were hardly the times to owe anyone anything, not with war rearing its ugly head and castles being so easily breached. His fingers danced the curve along her side, tips pressing against the rough texture of her dress to ease her nerves. She exhaled through her nose and spared him a glance, but it did little to cease the way she toyed with her fingers. 

"A place.. at your court." Lady Mysaria revealed, dark eyes watching them closely. 

"You wished to free yourself from the webs of court, and yet now wish to find yourself a place in it?" (Y/N)'s brows dipped inward, perplexed. The castle had been breached by a knight with the sole goal of slaughtering a queen and he'd nearly succeded. Anyone else would've collected their things and raced for the next ship away from the Crownslands, away from the infighting. Lady Mysaria's shoulder lifted with a half-shrug. 

"And you let me go. You showed me grace when you could have withheld it. I'm not often surprised." She said gently, a shadow briefly casting over them when Seasmoke flew in front of the sun. "I know the workings of the Red Keep and the movements of those who serve there. That is worth more than gold to you now."

Rhaenyra's lips pursed, eyes squinting when she spared Seasmoke a glance at his call. "What is our worth to you?"

"I would punish the Hightower for what they have done, to me and those who served me. But more than that, I know the struggles of the smallfolk of King's Landing. They will be ruled, either by you or by the usurper. And only one of you has shown yourself to be merciful."

"Well, I hope you do not confuse mercy with pliancy." 

Another shriek, one much closer, interrupted the beat of silence that passed over them after Rhaenyra spoke. It almost seemed purposeful, urgent. (Y/N) watched Seasmoke's distant figure twist in the sky and dip downward toward the water, skimming it briefly before rising again. His flying seemed purposeless; no hunting, no playing, seemingly no enjoyment coming from it. Was it the equivalent of pacing? Or an attempt at communication without his rider to decipher it for them? (Y/N) frowned. Could it be...

"Seasmoke, my late lord-husband's dragon. He's grown restless as of late." Rhaenyea turned away from the sight and gave another tight yet polite smile, her hand rising to touch her husband's back briefly, signaling to him their departure. "We can not know why."

"Maybe he's lonely." Lady Mysaria said, and Rhaenyra halted, eyes darting back to her before turning to her husband. 

Their departure from the balcony was quiet, with Lady Mysaria staring after them until she resumed her watch of Seasmoke. Rhaenyra stared forward whilst they walked down the hallway, her lips twitching into the beginning of a frown and brows furrowing. They had news for Rhaena but (Y/N)'s mind remained consumed with other things. Dragons and their riders were bonded, united as one in more ways than one; rumors and speculations the bond was emotional, possibly even bound by souls. Syrax had grown restless during Rhaenyra's early labor, shrieking and roaring within the caves she and the others called home. It was enough to prove there was something there, some sort of connection... one that would be severed after death. 

His lips brushed over Rhaenyra's temple, his legs leading him in the opposite direction of their bedchambers. He needed more time with his children, now more than ever. His chest constricted with the beginning of grief.

They'd gone years without hearing a word from Laenor or his lover, as they'd agreed upon to avoid rousing suspicion, but Seasmoke's restlessness, his constant shrieks and cries... the chance it was his way of mourning was high. Lives were lost so easily, fragile things capable of breaking at any time and any place. And so far from home.

Rhaenys and Corlys had mourned their children for years and felt the turmoil of not having been there for Laena during her time of need. Lady Jane Arryn would take good care of the children but it hardly shook away the worries.

Could he survive losing another child, let alone one of the youngest? Could Rhaenyra? What would come of Jace if he lost Joffery, Viserys, or Aegon? His eldest son was already brash yet withheld his impulses, but (Y/N) knew the flush of youthful anger and arrogance all too well. It was all-consuming and dangerous. 

Council meetings were wearisome. How his father managed to attend each and every one for decades was a mystery to (Y/N), a mystery he thought about as he sat in his seat and listened to the droning of the other lords. In a fleeting desire, he desperately hoped once the waters calmed, he'd be able to do as other consorts did and stay far from the Small Council and its squabbling men.

"Still no sightings," Rhaenys announced as she strode into the room, peeling her gloves off as she approached her seat beside him. It'd been early afternoon when they'd heard of an army leaving the gates of King's Landing, its destination unknown and unclear thus far. "No men, no horses, no ships... no dragons." She gave a quiet sigh, tossing her gloves upon the table and sitting down. 

"Good. Then we must seize the hour and act before our enemy does. They have penetrated our castle walls and now the Riverlands are aflame after the Battle at the Burning Mill." Ser Alfred spoke, turning his attention onto Maester Gerardys expectantly. "How fares Prince Daemon with our army?"

Maester Gerardys grimaced. "There has been no word from Prince Daemon, Your Grace."

"Then we must press what advantage we do have."

"And what's that?" Lord Staunton questioned from beside Ser Alfred, eyeing him with a level of uncertainty (Y/N) could not fault him for.

"Dragons." Gods. "Send all of them out. Start turning Green strongholds to our cause and burn those who resist."

"No," Rhaenyra spoke up with a dismissive shake of her head, her fingers tightly wound together and lips slightly pursed. "If dragons begin fighting dragons, we invite our own destruction. Fear of it is in itself a weapon. The Greens will make the same calculation." 

Ser Alfred's dry laughter followed, mocking as if he were faced with a child rather than his ruler. "The value of a sword is not within its scabbard." 

"We will secure victory with armies, not with dragons alone. The Greens understand that." Rhaenyra swallowed, her jaw tight from Ser Alfred's attitude and chest falling with a deep exhale. "The Vale and the North will send men. We must give Daemon time."

"Your Grace," Lord Gormon Massey spoke next, shifting in his chair and leaning back into it as he looked toward her with a small sniffle. "You have witnessed firsthand just how vulnerable you are. Prince Daemon is abroad, Lord (Y/N) is more skilled with words than with swords, and Aegon's factions are enraged at the death of his son. You have never been so exposed!"

"Perhaps it is time for you to think about secreting yourself somewhere safe while we remain here as a source of distraction for the enemy." Lord Celtigar proposed, and (Y/N) couldn't help the laugh that tumbled free from his lips. The lords turned their attention swiftly onto him, brows furrowed at his amusement but (Y/N) simply arched a brow, eyes flickering between them all.

"You expect Her Grace to turn and cower away whilst you do what exactly? Appoint a regent in her stead? Play pretend as children do so that you may indulge in fantasies? Age has truly emboldened too many of you, made your tongues loose and brains hazy, it seems. You act as if you are speaking to your daughter, your sister, or wife. You speak too freely in the presence of the Queen." (Y/N) inhaled heavily and leaned forward, resting his elbows upon the table and studying them each. His tone remained icy, cold and distant whilst he addressed them to further watch them shift uncomfortably in their seats. "What do you think Her Grace's enemies would do if they caught wind of her.. 'secreting herself somewhere safe'? They would call her a coward, and what House would wish to follow a coward?" 

"My Lord, t-that is not what-"

"And what would you do, Ser Alfred, if we were to send all our dragons away to fight and left Dragonstone vulnerable? The riderless dragons may be prompted to attack, sure, but without riders, they have no loyalty. Dragonstone's inhabitants would be left to face the same fate as Harren the Black or the Harroways of Harrenhal." (Y/N) raised his brows at the man, turning away when he parted his mouth to speak and leaving him to clamp it shut.

"You sit here and act like children who've been gifted their very first sword whilst simultaneously disregarding the very reason we have dragons at our disposal. The rulers of the Targaryen Dynasty may have been men thus far but we have seen women rule before, or have you all forgotten of Dorne? It was Princess Meria Martell who led her people against the conquest and won. Perhaps, instead of opening your mouths, you should open a history book."

(Y/N) scoffed softly and stood from his seat, prompting the rest of the men to stand as well with their heads bowed. "Oh, and Lord Massey," (Y/N) watched the man swallow before he lifted his head to look at him. "Nearly all of my brothers are knights. I was taught how to fight in my youth. That I choose words is not a flaw, for someone else may have chosen to cut your tongue if they felt slighted." He turned away, moving to stand beside Rhaenyra as she too rose from her seat. 

Coiling her arm around his, Rhaenyra gave him a fleeting smile before looking over her council. "Let us not speak or entertain such an idea again. It'd be inconvenient amid a war to have to charge someone for treason, wouldn't it? If there is nothing else of value to inform us of, we shall take our leave."

[devilsanddarlings]

@lcveblossomed

“You’re almost two years younger than me actually.” Kurt pointed out almost boredly, fighting the urge to snort at her words. Esme clearly had done zero research on him at all before running her mouth. “My grandfather is the CEO of Ashford International, one of your father’s largest campaign donors, and my father’s a founding partner of the best law firm in the state. Just because a career in public service didn’t appeal to them, doesn’t mean they’re not successful. And before that, we were Goodes by name. So your entire argument goes out the window right there,” Kurt pointed out with an eye roll.

“But a female senator? Good luck with that. There’s what…three* on the whole senate floor right now? Maybe you should aim a bit lower, say…house wife? It might be a better fit, since you’re so concerned about your image.”

*Not-So-Fun Fact: There really were only three female senators at the time of this thread. All of them were elected in 1978. Of those three, only one of them would be re-elected. She served until 1997. The next one wouldn’t be elected until 1981.

"Why is that supposed to be some insane accomplishment? The only reason I haven't started college is because I'm a grade behind you I start in the fall. I didn't get held back or something I'm just younger." Esme says clearly annoyed that he thinks that makes him better clearly it doesn't make him more mature. She thinks maybe he's less mature.

"Yet he's the Goode. I haven't met a Sheriff Ashford- a Mayor Ashford. I mean I'm sure when the time comes he'll let you be his second in command so chin up it'll all be okay." She says sarcastically. Normally she would enjoy banter like this going back and forth with someone. Still, he was annoying and she was desperate to talk to someone who could meet her intellectually. "I'm going to be a senator like my dad one day so I need to start curating my image now. Which sounds like a better person to you someone who spent all summer in the family beach home or someone who tirelessly worked to help foster the young underprivileged minds of Shadyside. If this shit hole is still standing when I'm in charge I can reminisce with a photographer present to record and give them a grant. If it's not then well it's just extra padding for my resume."

[iiotic]

The burnt memories | Human Alastor oneshot

Human Alastor x Fem reader - one shot

summary: Moving in your hometown was awfully hard for you, staying with you mother you needed to find a job. However you were devastated after you got robbed and humiliated in the process. You remembered your childhood bestfriend but you can't seem to remember his name..

wc: 3k

tw: murder, kidnapping, stalking, Period-Typical racism, Period-Typical sexism, gore, bad English, this is extremely old, short one shot, Angst, childhood friends to strangers, the plot is happening rlly fast, ooc?, not proffread

a/n: originally this was suppose to be a fanfiction but since I really really not enjoy writing for hazbin hotel as I used to I turned it into an oneshot since I don't like my work go to waste. The plot is going rlly fast couse this was suppose to be a fanfiction y'all with a happy little ending where you'd end up with Alastor but I decided to change it a bit.

Moving in your hometown was awfully hard for you. The feeling of nostalgia washed over you, as you saw the forest that you used to play in, when you were a kid. The trees have grown, indeed. You walked up to the old entry, that you and your friend created. It was extremely hard to expose the hidden and abandoned path for two small children. It took hours! However when you two finally succeeded, you had to go home since it was already late and you had to eat dinner.

You truly cherished the memories that you shared with your close ones here. You remembered every story like it happened yesterday. You were a bit shocked to see the path fully exposed. Back in the old days, it was only a little hole that only children could fit it. Half of you was happy, knowing that you won't have to crawl and struggle through the hole that didn't exist anymore. However the other half of you was disappointed, 'cause your hard work got wasted.

Deciding to take a scroll through the forest, you followed the familiar path. Noticing how half of the forest turned into an hunting area, you weren't surprised at all. The hunting season was just around the corner and you were not happy about that. You moved into your old household as your father decided to leave your mother alone. She needed your help and you provided it as you loved your mother dearly. He, himself found a better house in a wealthier area. Unfortunately for you, your house was very close to the once so familiar forest. When you were little everything looked so big and magical but now? The magic had dissapered from the once fairy tale space.

Turning around on your heel, you faced with an abandoned playground. Kids, including you, used to play here a lot. You were shocked when you saw it in its terrible state. The slide dirty with mud and weird black substances, rotted and once more, everything was terribly rotted. After a while of thinking, you began to understand why this place went abandonment. Really, whose idea it was to put a playground inside of a forest?

Continuing your scroll, you began to remember your old childhood friend. What was his name? You couldn't remember. You didn't believe that you forgot such an important thing. His whole face was a blur, yet you still remembered that charming smile of his. Somehow he always managed to make you smile and laugh. You started wondering if he is still as funny as he was in the past. Wait.. Does he still live here? Does he still remember you? You hoped that the answer to both of these questions were positive.

By the time you came back home it was already dark. Walking in, you greeted your mother, apologising for taking so long. She just brushed it off saying that "you don't have to spend all of your life in this house." Chuckling a bit you mentally agreed with her.

Looking around, your eyes were met with your luggage that you did not unpack yet. A sigh escaped your lips as you made your way over to your belongings. The truth is that you were too exhausted to unpack them, however you knew that they just wouldn't unpack themselfs.

Walking into your old room, that holds so much lovely memories from your childhood, you noticed a newspaper on the floor. April 11th, 1929, yesterdays date. Your mother must have opened the window in your room, and the newspaper must have flew it way in here. Dropping your belongings, you just noticed the cold temperature in the room. Freezing even. Closing the window you picked up yesterday's newspaper to look at it.

The axeman of New Orleans attacked again!

There's an axeman going around? How didn't you know that there's a murderer in the place where you grew up in? Anxious, you decided to sit down on your bed and read the rest of the article.

Time flew by and you grew more and more disappointed of the news you just read. No wonder father moved out you thought leaving the newspaper on your nightstand and rubbed your eyes. Tommorow will be a hard day and you knew that. The luggages didn't unpack themself yet so you had to finally do it. Wanting to forget about the informations that you acknowledged you moved to your belongings and started unpacking.

There wasn't really a lot of things there; just some clothes, hygiene stuff, basic writing supplies and some of your most important things that you could never get rid of.

9 pm. That was the time on the clock when you finished unpacking. Exhausted you rolled in your bed, not even thinking of changing into your pijamas. Your mind started to thrift to the events that happened today. The memories of your childhood were truly worthy being in an museum.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, your mind decided to remind you of him, once again. Wait.. What if he was killed my the axeman? You truly hoped that it wasn't true. You thought that maybe, just maybe you two could get the chance to catch up. However the promise.. You had no idea why didn't he keep the promise. Before you could think more about it, your eyes closed by themself.

"Tag, You're it! " You giggled before running deeper into the forest. You heard footsteps mixing with your own behind you, signalling that he was chasing you. Turning, and making an unexpected turn, you failed to notice how your dress got all muddy. You had no idea that you would get scolded after you'd came back home by your mother.

You laugh, as you turned around to see that you successfully lost your friend. Hiding in a bush that slightly tore your dress, you waited for him to give up or to just walk by so you could scare him.

"Boo!"

You screamed as, to your suprise, your friend found you. "not fun.." You mumbled as he helped you get up. "You cheated!"

"I didn't!" He argued, giggling a bit at your indignation. "You're just too easy to catch."

"No i am not!" You gasped in annoyance.

Your argument went on and on, you accusing him of cheating and him defending himself as he told you that he just creeped behind. Before you knew it your legs were leading the way to your houses.

Soon enough it was time to say your goodbyes as you both were standing beside your homes.

"Despite everything, I enjoyed hanging out with you today, ..." Your younger self confessed to him. Wait, him? You clearly heard you say his name. Why couldn't you remember it? Why couldn't you remember his name.

Before you knew it, you were dragged to a pitch black hole. You wanted to scream, but for some reasons you couldn't manage to utter anything.You turned around as you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Nothing was there. You gasped when something dragged you by your legs, finally screaming to let you go.

You jumped out of your bed, sweating in a middle of the night. You could hear the birds chipp as the rain continued to pour rather aggressively.

It was just a nightmare.

"I still don't understand why you have to leave so early, pumpkin?" Your mother asked worringly, her eyes showed that she isn't very sure of what you're trying to do.

"The sooner, the better!" You declared with determination. You were confident with what you're trying to do, hoping that you will find a job in an maximum week. "Can't waste any time, love you, bye!!" You yelled, closing the door behind you. You didn't need any negative energy around you.

Walking down the alley, you turned around to go to the busier side of the town. Head up high, heels clicking with every step you took, your eyes scanning all of the shops that were near you. However there was one that caught your attention..

Stepping in the boutique, you noticed how clean and neat it was. All of the newest dresses, coats and jewelry displayed for customers eyes. You could get used to it..

Walking up the counter, you rang a little bell on it. You jumped as your heard a sudden voice behind you.

"Good morning dear, do you need any help?" An older woman asked you, moving to face you behind the counter. You could tell that she was in her 50s.

"um.." You looked at her, still startled, not knowing what to say. You thought that you would have some time to think about it. She looked at you with a confused look and you took it as a signal to finally say something.

"I was wondering if you need help. I mean if you need help with the job.. around the boutique." You finally uttered. Fixing your clothes and straightening your posture to look presentable. Her umber eyes staring into your determined ones.

"I apologize sweetie, but i'm not looking for any workers at the moment" Her mode shifted a bit when she saw your sad look. You were disappointed, even though you knew that you won't get a job at your first try.

"That's fine, do you by any chance know someone or an shop that is short on staff?" You asked, with hope in your eyes.

"Unfortunately." she looked down and started searching for something behind the counter. "However i could contact you if I'll acknowledge any in the area? I know how it is looking for a job these days." Before you could think about what she said, the woman asked you for your name. Giving you her number; in case you wanted to contact her, after writing your own name down on an another card.

"Thank you so much ma'am." You thanked her after introducing yourself. "It means a lot to me."

"Oh! No need to be so formal. Call me Louise." You gave the woman a kind smile, before repeating her name and saying your goodbye.

You had plenty of time left, it was only nine am, and now you were questioning yourself why'd you leave this early. Pheraps your mother was right, after all. Eyeing all of the buildings around you, you decided to go to a florist next.

Before you could take another step a young boy stopped you.

"Miss, would you like to buy a newspaper? They're only 15 cents each!" You looked at him, at the newspaper that he was holding and back at him. Pheraps it would be useful. You could tell that the little bit was struggling, wanting to earn some money. So were you.

"of course, little one."

He smiled widely at your response waiting for you to find your money. You handed him the 15 cents shortly after, in exchange, earning today's newspaper. Before you could thank him, he already run off. Confused you looked back at the newspaper you were holding, about to read it.

Wait a second..

That's yesterday's newspaper! This little boy tricked you. These kids these days.. You sighed, not having the strength to run after him, continuing your way to the flower shop.

Soon enough you arrived at your destination, the bell rang as you stepped into the shop.

Looking around you were fascinated with the interior, everything looked so pretty that you couldn't get enough of it. The different types of flowers; Roses, Tulips, hibiscus..

And Oof!

"I'm so sorry mr.. I was in the way." You apologized as you bumped into a rather tall stranger. His skin was in the shade of caramel and his hair just slightly darker. He looked at you almost out of pity, is he making fun of you?

"No need to apologize, clearly I wasn't looking where I was heading as well." He calmly explained, fixing his coat from any dust that could get on it. "If I may ask your name, dear?"

You quickly introduced yourself, putting your head up for him to shake it, to your dismay he didn't even touch you.

"Well what a lovely name for such a lovely lady like yourself! My name? Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you."

"Alastor? Did I know someone names Alastor?" You thought but quickly recovered. As flawless as this conversation was going you had to continue your journey. Excusing yourself from the gentleman you began asking for a job once again.

"Woman. What makes you think that this is a job for a woman?" The man behind the lada laughed at you, shooing you out of his establishment. "A woman could never handle a job as tough as this one."

You wanted to cry, you truly did. This was the 6th building you visited today, all of them didn't need help and it was already getting dark. Devastated you left the store, not wanting to get even more humiliated. Your next stop? Your house. You thought about how dissapointed your mother must be in you, you'd can't want to look her in the eyes.

As you were walking, step by step by your childhood forest you heard some bushes rustling behind you, now you felt like you were getting watched. Paranoid you turned on your heel to look behind you.. No ones there. You let a sigh of relief, but before you could turn around you felt yourself getting sleepy..

Dark.

That's what you saw, everything dark and even darker. You squinted your eyes after opening them to not get blinded by the light. After you got used to it, you looked at your surroundings..

Basement, you were in a basement? How did you end up here, you don't remember. Your head hurts like hell and your mind 8s spinning. Trying to get up you failed miserably and only hurt yourself by the chains you were chained up to. "what..?" You thought.

"And that I am dizzy with a dame like you." You heard a familiar voice behind you, wanting to turn around but couldn't as you were chained up. "don't worry I'll make it quick for my lady."

Opening your mouth to speak, to whisper, to scream.. You realized you couldn't do any of those, your mouth stuffed with something.

"You're probably wondering where are you? who am i? what is this man gonna do to me? aren't you? Well.." The sound of loud metal could be heard in the entire basement as he hit you with a metal pipe on the head. You were quickly losing blood, a stray of blood coming from the insides of your head, from your nose, from your mouth. Before you passed out you did that you heard his last words to you or rather to himself..

"I don't need any disturbance in my life, I don't need love its a distraction."

ALASTOR MASTERLIST

[thestressedsimmer]

July, 1315: Capet Manor

The air felt truly gloomy at the home of the duke and duchess of Willow Creek. Elizabeth had been so grief stricken by the death of her favorite (and only) older sister and Robert had many duties to perform, especially with his brother struggling with becoming a widower.

It wasn't the best time for the king to fall into a state of depression, considering the famine that was still plaguing their lands, but luckily he had a loyal and loving younger brother who could handle things - at least in Willow Creek.

Elizabeth's pregnancy had been progressing well. She swore she felt two pair of feet kicking against her; which prompted Robert to ask if they could have the royal physician visit. Sure enough, she was diagnosed with twins. Elizabeth was not very surprised. Her mother had triplets for the Watcher's sake.

The news still brought a strange mix of excitement and fear. Numbness and happiness. She couldn't truly place any of her emotions but she did know that these babies were alive. They were alive and had unlimited potential. Maybe she'd have the next duke of Willow Creek in her arms in a mere matter of months. Perhaps she'd have an heir and his dutiful brother in the same moment. Or perhaps she'd have a beautiful little girl who could become a future queen in her own right. Two girls would be stressful for Robert, who would want to ensure the best for them which would be hefty dowries, but they would love them no matter what.

That sentiment wasn't common among their social class, but Elizabeth and Robert had been through too much grief to care about much else right now. Just healthy children. Please, Watcher, just healthy children.

During this time, the duchess started exchanging letters with her family back home. Especially her younger sister, Jennet. She was the oldest sister now so she would have to take on the role of giving advice and trying to guide her siblings through their grief.

Even though her husband tried to shield her from the realities of the world outside so she could focus on growing healthy babies? Her sister's words filled her with worry.

Back in Henford-On-Bagley, the farmers have yet to get a single seed to take to the soil. Her mother and father, in the throes of grief themselves, have been struggling to even put food on their own table (considering the amount of mouths they have to feed) and have been relying on the queen's kindness.

Jennet begged Elizabeth to not try for any more children until after this has passed. Of course, the young girl didn't truly understand the duties of a duchess. Especially the wife of somebody in line to the throne of Willow Creek. She must have children. At least until she had two boys... But she simply reassured her sister that anything that goes on is the Watcher's will.

She wished that she, herself, had the same confidence that she did in her letters. When she felt the first pangs of contractions, she felt fear grip her heart.

One of two things was going to happen. Either she was going to meet her children or she was going to join her sister - perhaps both as was the case with her sister.

All she could do was repeat the very words she had consoled her baby sister with.

Anything that happens is the Watcher's will.

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 13

Chapter 13 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, Jason keeps asking Chrissy out, who tells him she’s dating Steve to get him to stop. It leads to him coming out to her. In the evening Eddie comes by. Steve falls asleep and has a nightmare. Eddie tries to comfort him, but the person he needs is Robin, to which Eddie drives them as he gets to witness their friendship.

On AO3.

Ships: steddie & buckingham

Warnings: period typical sexism, homophobia mention, nightmare, vomiting

~~~~~~~~

Chapter 13: The Rejected Date

It’s already the middle of October. School has been in for a while and Steve has been living on his own at the cabin for a few weeks already.

Living on his own has been both fun and hard. He misses Robin, but she stays over at least one night a week and he is at the Buckley’s for dinner and to sleep over once a week as well. They usually end up sleeping together three nights, one of them, because they woke up from a nightmare and had to check the other was okay.

When it’s Robin, Steve will get called awake and drive over to find Robin waiting on her porch in her pajamas, freezing. She’ll fall into his arms and he’ll carry her to her room, wrapping both of them into the blanket as she shoves her ice cube toes between his calves.

If it’s him, he’ll show up still sweaty and shivering from the nightmare. He knows where they keep the spare key and he’ll let himself in, crawling into Robin’s bed. She’s used to it and wraps her arms around him, sleepily lecturing him about safety on the road.

The set up isn’t perfect, but it works for them. He and Robin are bound for life, he cannot imagine not knowing her. If sneaking into her bed is to be part of his life, then he’ll do so with the gratefulness that he gets to know her.

Beyond his sleepovers with Robin, he calls Lisa from time to time and hangs out with Chrissy on Wednesdays. There isn’t cheer practice, but Chrissy told her mom there is. They hang out together, just talking or stunting, depending on the mood.

Steve loves spending time together with Chrissy. He might be half conjoined with Robin and she is his person, who gets him on so many levels, but he connects with Chrissy about bad parents and a love for sports in a way that Robin won’t get. And he doesn’t begrudge her that. Robin has amazing parents and he is thankful for that, besides he doesn’t get her obsession with weird books, movies and music either.

Chrissy loves the cabin and is always excited to hang around there. She loves the quiet sounds of nature and how there is no one to watch or judge her. Steve gets the feeling, though he isn’t the biggest forest fan after the Upside Down.

On Saturdays he hangs out with Max and Lucas. He brings dinner and plays basketball with Lucas at the trailer park, both ignoring how Susan is never home and how this is the most decent meal Max eats in the week.

Lucas is improving his skill and is going onto the varsity team, which is huge as a freshman. It makes Steve so proud of him, despite his own bad experiences with the basketball team during the last part of his time at high school.

When playing with Lucas, Steve also doesn’t think of Eddie, whose trailer is right across from Max’s, who has been sworn to secrecy and let in on the prank. He sees her eyes glittering whenever Lucas complains about giving the guy a chance as they eat dinner.

But it’s okay, he sees Eddie at other times.

He drives the kids home from Hellfire club on Fridays. Usually he and Eddie exchange a few words in the parking lot. When he recounts them to Robin she calls it flirting, but Steve tries not to believe her, tries not to get his hopes up.

Just like he tries not to get his hopes up whenever he and Eddie hang out. Steve doesn’t have the best sleep schedule and it seems that neither does Eddie, because he’ll often show up at an hour that is too late to be socially acceptable and stays until deep in the night.

Eddie makes it very hard to not get hopes up, or at least to get over the crush. He’ll always press close, easily stepping into Steve’s space and handing out casual touches like it’s nothing. He’ll grin showing those cute dimples and creating crinkles around those kind and beautiful eyes. It makes Steve want to do something stupid.

However, Steve knows better. He has seen enough of Eddie to know that the affection is just baked into his being. Steve isn’t special. Eddie is just nice and he shouldn’t look for things that aren’t there.

It’s not special when they sit on the porch and look at the stars, sharing things they wouldn’t say in the light of day. It’s not special when Eddie uses his joint to light Steve’s cigarette. It’s not special when Eddie rests his head on Steve’s shoulder. And it’s not special when the night drags on and a drawl creeps into Eddie’s voice, when man gets replaced with sweetheart and Eddie gazes at Steve like he’s something precious.

Steve just has to keep reminding himself of that.

Robin tells him he’s being an idiot, but Robin doesn’t get to say shit. It’s not like she’s telling that Vickie girl from band that she likes her. So, he ignores her arguments about why he should risk the friendship he’s only just starting to build and lingers in the moments where he has Eddie, before he reminds himself it isn’t special.

Yesterday was such an evening again, but Robin can’t say anything, because she is working and he is not. He’s going to hang out with Chrissy at the cabin and just try to forget and work it out by throwing Chrissy into the air for a bit.

He goes to pick her up after school. She looks a little nervous, glancing around as she quickly gets into his car. She looks like she wants to say something, but can’t. Her nerves are making Steve anxious as he wonders what could have happened. He asks: “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I did something and I need you to go along with it and not be mad,” Chrissy tells him, worrying her lip between her teeth.

The words do nothing to soothe Steve’s nerves and if he weren’t focused on driving, he would have more space to panic. “What did you do?”

“I told Jason we’re dating when he asked me out,” Chrissy rushes out, then rambles on: “He just keeps asking and I said no multiple times, but he won’t stop. So, when he asked why I won’t give him a chance I said that I have a boyfriend. He didn’t believe that, so I just said your name, because I don’t really want to date right now, so I needed someone who wouldn’t be secretly in love with me.”

“Of course I’ll back your story,” Steve promises, not seeing an issue with it. Chrissy is too young for him, but it’s not real. She knows he won’t be in love-

Wait, Steve’s brain screeches to a halt as the latter part of Chrissy’s ramble registers. He stops at the intersection, looks at Chrissy and asks: “Who says I’m not secretly madly in love with you?”

Chrissy looks surprised at the question and taken aback she says: “You are?”

“I mean, no, but I could have been, right?” Steve says, finding an edge of desperation in his voice as the walls of the car start to close in on him. He does not like where this conversation is going. He does not know if he can do this.

Meanwhile, Chrissy’s face turns sympathetic and she starts: “Steve…” trailing off with nothing to say, which is horrible for Steve’s frame of mind.

“Right?” he repeats, knowing that the crack in his voice does nothing to help his case.

“Oh, Stevie, you don’t- you don’t have to pretend with me,” she tells him softly, compassion and gentleness filling her voice.

She knows he’s gay.

Steve got the inkling, but those words confirm it. She knows. She has known. She knows and still she hangs out with Steve, lets him be near her, touch her, be close with her. All his fears about her rejection due to her religious house were for naught, because she doesn’t seem to mind.

Chrissy doesn’t mind he’s gay.

He feels tears start to try and get out, so he pushes them down and takes a shuddering breath. He can’t deal with all these emotions right now. Instead he checks if anyone is coming at the intersection and starts driving again.

The tension in the car is palpable. Chrissy is fidgeting next to him and Steve is just staring at the road, trying not to feel. He doesn’t know what to say. What if he misunderstood and Chrissy is talking about something else? What if he says it and then she hates him?

So they drive in tense silence, something they haven’t done in all the time they’ve known each other. Not really, not like this.

It’s only when they pull up at the cabin that Chrissy speaks up, her voice very timid. “Are you okay?” she asks. “If I said something wrong you can say it. I’m really sorry, I didn’t know it was something I shouldn’t say.”

“How long have you known?” Steve asks, still not meeting her eyes. He has to know. He has only just gotten his respectability back. What if it’s obvious?

“Since the summer,” Chrissy answers.

“How?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure at first,” Chrissy begins to explain, sounding unsure. “I mean, you know what whispers went around about you, but I don’t like rumors. So, I ignored them. You seemed nice and we became friends. I liked that you treated us like people, not just dumb cheerleaders. Then I noticed you never talked about Nancy. Never. Barely mentioned her.”

“What does Nancy have to do with it?” Steve asks, confused as to why Chrissy is bringing her up.

“For someone not enough over the heartbreak to date again, you never talked about her,” Chrissy shrugs and smiles. “I thought that was odd. But that’s all maybe’s. Robin confirmed it for me.”

“Robin?” Steve frowns.

“Yeah, you were very adamant about nothing being there,” Chrissy says. “I almost convinced myself you had to be lying about it, but I know you too well. So, I assumed. I didn’t say anything because you didn’t. Sorry. Should I not have done that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says, looking Chrissy in the eye. “I honestly don’t know, Chris. I’m terrified of people knowing. Robin knows, but beyond that…”

“That sucks,” Chrissy tells him in that sweet genuine way only she can. She bumps her shoulder against his and smiles: “I’ll never judge you, Stevie. You’re my best friend.”

Words escape Steve. He never thought he would have people who would accept him, but here he has not only Robin and Eddie, but Chrissy as well. His Chrissy. His favorite cheerleader. He pulls her into a hug and practically crushes her.

Chrissy doesn’t seem to mind, just clings to him equally tight and doesn’t let go. They sit there in the front seat of Steve’s car, until Steve is willing to let go.

“You’re my best friend too,” Steve tells her. “Thank you for not hating me.”

“Never,” Chrissy says and it sounds like a promise.

They finally get out of the car and Chrissy seems to know that he doesn’t want to get into it now, but just put it out of his mind. So, she drops her stuff off inside and immediately comes back out to warm up. The October chill is coming in, but neither of them care.

The two of the run around to warm up. Chrissy can now comfortably to a handstand on Steve’s hands, so they’re just working on flipping. It’s not the smartest thing to do without anyone to catch her, but they don’t care. Stunting makes them feel alive in a way nothing else does.

So they stunt until they’re both sweaty and both take a shower, their hair a mess as it air dries and grins on their faces.

Steve doesn’t have a TV, so they put on some music while they crawl onto the couch with a mug of hot chocolate. The heating in the cabin isn’t the best, but Steve has amassed a collection of blankets that they burrow under.

The cabin itself is very homey. Steve finally has a bed frame that he stumbled upon in the second hand shop, a lucky find. The living room is painted an orange-y red, giving it a warm feel. Though he painted the beams the same yellow as the cabinets, which he loves.

He made it his little home and he is happy there. On some lonely nights however, he stares at the closed door where the last memory of Hopper remains. He’ll think of El living here. Hopper and her fixing it up. The countless days she’d been cooped up here. He wonders if she’d like what he has done with it, but he’s too scared to ask whenever he calls all the way to California.

It’s there, sitting on the couch that Chrissy brings it up again. She doesn’t start a serious conversation about it, instead curiously asking: “So, do you have a crush on anyone? A real one. I told you mine, now you can tell me yours.”

“Who says I have a crush,” Steve counters.

“Pleaseeeee, even if it’s just a celebrity,” Chrissy pleads. “I wanna gossip with you.”

“You’re being nosy, that’s different,” Steve points out, but he’s smiling too big for his judgment to be believable. He can’t believe Chrissy is being so casual about it, so accepting.

“Then let me be nosy,” Chrissy pouts. “I told you my embarrassing crushes, it’s only fair. I even told you when I liked that guy in my history class, despite the fact that he would always stick his chewing gum under the tables.”

“And he didn’t wash his hands after peeing,” Steve reminds her.

“I know, it was gross and why I stopped liking him,” Chrissy says. “What about you? Do you have any deal breakers in guys?”

“You’re persistent,” Steve laughs.

“Thank you,” Chrissy grins.

Steve is quiet for a second, then he blushes and softly admits: “I like dimples. And muscles. Like on the arms. Arm muscles are good.”

Chrissy squeals and gushes: “Oh my god, when a guy lifts something, right?”

“God, yes,” Steve groans sinking into the couch as he remembers Eddie lifting the heavy tools onto the roof of the very cabin he’s in. Next to him Chrissy giggles. He can’t help but laugh too, a giddy feeling spreading through his limbs. He always wanted to join when the cheerleaders gossiped about crushes and now he can. It feels like acceptance.

“What else? What else?” Chrissy demands, slapping his arm excitedly.

The only person Steve has ever talked about this is Robin and he is worried about it being too much for Chrissy and that she’ll be grossed out, so he keeps it a bit less explicit and skips over the fingers to say: “Stubble is nice.”

“Oeh, yeah, like Indiana Jones,” Chrissy squeals excitedly.

“Yeah, like Indiana Jones,” Steve agrees, because Harrison Ford is hot and he is not ashamed of thinking that.

They continue to talk about boys for a little while longer. Steve admits to thinking Micheal J. Fox and Judd Nelson are hot, which delights Chrissy. She doesn’t seemed grossed out all throughout the conversation and Steve is practically floating on air as he drives her home.

Even in his wildest dreams, he would not have thought Chrissy would be this cool about it all. Hell, he would never have thought he’d ever come out to her, yet here he is. She is the fourth person to know after Eddie, Robin and Will, that is four more than he’d thought. It feels like a middle finger to his parents to tell her. To not deny it. Steve feels great.

He contemplates calling Robin to tell her when he gets home, but his phone bill is already criminal and he’s driving her to school tomorrow morning. He can wait.

Steve makes himself dinner and eats. He doesn’t have many hobbies, but there are always little things to do in the cabin. However, before he can commit himself to any of them, there is a knock on the door. Steve isn’t expecting anyone, but there are multiple people who could randomly be standing on his doorstep.

Today it’s Eddie. He’s grinning and holding up a six pack as he asks: “Wanna drink and forget high school exists?”

“Sure, man,” Steve grins and steps aside to let him in as he asks: “What subject is kicking your ass this time?”

“All of them,” Eddie groans, shrugging off his jacket, six pack on the coffee table. He flops down on Steve’s couch and Steve’s heart does a flip at how comfortable Eddie is in his house. Eddie continues: “I don’t know why, but they all have it out for me. I don’t want to be doing all of this again either, you know?”

“High school just sucks, I think,” Steve offers, pushing Eddie’s feet of the couch so he can sit next to him.

“It does,” Eddie agrees, coming up from his flopped position to sit next to Steve, their thighs pressing together, which neither of them comment on. “But word is, you and Chrissy are dating, what’s that about?”

“Some guy wouldn’t stop hitting on her, so she said we were dating so he’d get of her back,” Steve shrugs. He doesn’t really care if that gets around, if it means Chrissy gets left alone. Plus, it’ll be good for his reputation.

“And does she know the dating is fake?” Eddie asks.

“You mean, does she know I’m gay?” Steve counters. “Yes, actually. Told her today, but she kind of guessed already. It’s why she said me.”

“Damn, congrats man,” Eddie says as he pops open two beers with his rings, something Steve will always find attractive and offers one to Steve as he toast: “To you coming out to Chrissy.”

“Cheers,” Steve cheers, clinking his bottle against Eddie’s.

A comfortable silence falls over them as they both take a sip of their beer. Eddie has become a common guest at Steve’s. Not every week, but at least once every two weeks he’ll be on Steve’s doorstep and Steve always craves it like a dying man does water.

He knows that this is bad for the burning crush and Robin calls him pathetic, but he likes having Eddie to himself, hidden away from the world in the little cabin. So, he never says anything that could discourage Eddie from coming back again.

Steve is too anxious to go to Eddie’s place, so he just keeps welcoming Eddie whenever he comes to Steve’s.

“But enough about school,” Eddie grins. “How are you, Stevie-boy? Customer still as traumatic as ever?”

“Fuck, don’t even joke about it.” Now it’s Steve’s turn to groan. “Just yesterday this lady came in and she yelled at me for half an hour for renting her son an R-rated movie. Her son is sixteen and it was her husband that rented the movie. Like, why?”

“That’s the worsttt,” Eddie says. “I swear, you can shoot me if I ever try to get a job like that. I think I would get into a fight within a week.”

“Wouldn’t rule it out,” Steve snorts. “I fantasize about murdering some people in moments like that. To keep me sane.”

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Eddie grins, head lolling against the back of the couch as he does, neck on display.

Fuck, Steve wants to bite it.

He doesn’t though. These nights with Eddie are an exercise in self restraint. Instead, he grins back and says: “I promise to make it look like an accident,” before reclining on the couch as well.

“You can be terrifying, dude,” Eddie tells him, sounding both awed and delighted. Then he launches into a story about the campaign he’s running that it reminded him off. Steve has already heard about it from Dustin, but gladly listens to it again in Eddie’s warm voice.

They make their way through the six pack slowly and quickly take a smoke break. Eddie usually smokes a joint, but he is out of joints and smokes.

Steve is on his last cigarette, which they share. Every time Steve takes a drag he has to remind himself to not think about how the filter is still wet from where it had been in Eddie’s mouth earlier. Has to remind they’re only sharing because they’re both out. That it isn’t special.

After their smoke break they migrate back to the couch. Steve is feeling tired, but he doesn’t want Eddie to go yet, so tries to keep blinking his eyes open for as long as he can.

Eddie doesn’t seem to mind his tired audience and keeps up rambles about whatever comes to his mind. It always amazes Steve how Eddie never seems to run out of topics to talk about. He just keeps talking, hands waving about, until they begin to fidget with the couch cushion, before moving to Steve’s hair.

Usually Steve is very protective of his hair, but Robin has no boundaries and he figured out how nice it is to have someone play with his hair. So, when Eddie’s hand touches his hair, twisting a bit around his finger, Steve leans into the contact before Eddie can stop.

There is a slight falter in Eddie’s sentence, but picks up right where he left of when Steve blinks at him, too exhausted to register what exactly is happening.

And when Eddie plays with his hair, Steve is playing a loosing game. He’s already tired, the nightmares cutting into his sleeping time, and the safety of someone watching over him combined with the soothing hands in his hair, means that Steve is dropping off before he can stop it.

While Steve isn’t the best sleeper, he normally sleeps better with other people there. However, it seems the universe has it out for him, because his brain comes up with a horror show that includes all the worst days of his life, until he’s gasping as he falls of the couch.

He scrambles up into a fighting position when someone moves, before the curls register. His brain says Nancy, which means there is at least back up. Then it registers a concerned: “Stevie, sweetheart, are you in there?” in something that is definitely is not Nancy’s voice.

Eddie, it pings, but before he can say anything, his stomach acts up and he stumbles to the bathroom, where he drops to his knees and sees the three beers and his dinner again.

As he’s retching into the bowl in a high mortifying and undignified manner, a warm hand rubs his back soothingly. Another hand gently pushes his bangs out of his face. He can hear Eddie gently murmur: “You’re okay, I got you, you’re alright, sweetheart.”

Tears well up in Steve’s eyes and stream down his face, mixing with the snot, spit and bile already gathering there. He probably looks fucking disgusting and pathetic and he hates that Eddie is seeing him like this, but he’s still shivering with fear and can’t bring himself to stop. Eddie’s words are helping too and he is unable to send Eddie away.

Steve dry heaves for a few seconds, before he coughs and spits the last bit into the bowl. He sniffles and reaches for the toilet roll, blowing his nose and throwing it into the toilet before flushing it with the rest of his dinner.

He knows he should face Eddie now, explain what happen and tell him that he’s okay and that Eddie shouldn’t worry. Instead, however, he sits on his knees next to the toilet with hunched shoulders, unable to look Eddie in the eyes as his cheeks burn. What an impression to make, he thinks bitterly.

There is a moment of quiet between them, throughout it Eddie keeps up the rubbing on Steve’s back that Steve wants to shrug off, but also uses like a lifeline.

“Are- are you okay?” Eddie asks cautiously when the silence drags on without Steve moving or saying anything.

Steve swallows thickly, the image of Robin’s corpse still in his fresh on mind, fake as it might have been. “Yeah,” he assures Eddie with shaky voice that does not sound believable in the slightest. “I- I am okay. I just- I need to see Robin.”

“Robin?” Eddie frowns.

“Fuck, I- I have to go check on her,” Steve says, stumbling to his feet. He’s more present, but still trembling with fear. He won’t be able to calm down until he has seen Robin. He hasn’t had a nightmare this bad in weeks.

He staggers into the living room, still not having faced Eddie. He already made a fool out of himself, might as well look like a full madman, if that means he can get to Robin right now. He gropes around for his car keys, letting out a victorious noise when he fishes them out of his jacket pocket.

The keys are immediately plucked out of his hands and he whirls around with a wounded noise as he pleads: “Give those back.”

“No,” Eddie says. He looks worried, but determined. “I don’t know what just happened, but you’re out of it. I’m not letting you drive like this. If you want to see Robin, I’ll drive you.”

Steve wants to protest. He doesn’t need to be babied, he doesn’t need concern and he definitely doesn’t need Eddie to see him break down again when he sees Robin. However, he can also see that he is not winning this argument right now. He looks a mess and isn’t in a state to have a fight, he’s more likely to start crying again.

So, he huffs: “Alright, fine,” and crosses his arms, before storming out of the cabin.

Eddie rushes behind him, snatching a coat for Steve and locking the door, before he rushes to his van, which is parked in a way that locks in Steve’s car. Both of them climb in, since that is easier and Eddie starts the van. Steve gets jump-scared by the music that Eddie quickly turns down with an apology.

They drive the first part in silence. Steve looks at the passing scenery with unseeing eyes, his leg jiggling anxiously. What if he gets there and the door is broken down? What if Robin as been dragged away by some creature from the Upside Down? What if she has been taken by Russians, who have tracked her down? What if she’s dead?

He is snapped out of his thoughts by Eddie, who softly asks: “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“Nightmare,” Steve answers, looking down. Apart from the argument about the driving, he hasn’t looked at Eddie, and that was fueled by desperation, which he feels guilty about. Eddie doesn’t deserve his bullshit. He wonders if Eddie’s mad at how he acted.

“Looked like a bad one,” Eddie prompts when Steve offers nothing more. He doesn’t sound mad, just confused and scared. More worried, actually.

Steve chances a glance his way. Eddie is tapping the steering wheel anxiously, focusing on the road, before he glances Steve’s way. A small, involuntary and relieved smile appears on his face when he sees that Steve is looking back.

There are dimples in that smile and Steve’s nerves are calmed by them. He says: “It was. I’ve been getting them about Robin ever since the mall burned down. Just need to make sure she’s okay, you know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Eddie nods. “I get you don’t want to talk about it, but you could, you know. If you want to of course. It must have been terrible.”

“It was,” Steve confirms, a shudder wracking his body as he remembers that cold Russian bunker ground. He pushes it out of his mind and says: “But I’m good. I don’t want to talk about it.” He isn’t allowed, even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t. Not really.

Eddie gives a shrug that seems to say ‘that’s fair’, before he smiles: “Course.”

They’re pulling into Robin’s street and Steve is already out of the van, before Eddie has fully stopped. Now that he’s so close, his anxiety is ramping up again and he fumbles with the key, before unlocking the door.

It’s still pretty early in the evening, so Robin is still awake. She must have heard him, because she’s already meeting him at the door. Seeing her there in her pajama clad glory sends a wave of relief through Steve and he stumbles into her arms, holding her close.

She clings right back, practically climbing him to hug him properly, in a way that grounds them both. She kisses his forehead and whispers: “I’m okay, dingus. We’re okay. We made it out of there.”

Behind them, Eddie clears his throat. Steve sets Robin down again as Robin looks surprised at the new visitor. To break the tension Steve laughs: “Good thing you know I’m gay or that would have been awkward to explain.”

That gets him wide-eyed looks from both of them and he says: “Oh yeah, both of you know. It’s fine, I’m not outing myself on accident here.”

“Eddie was the other person that knew?” Robin practically screeches.

Steve winces and covers his ear as he wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, he is. Who else did you think it was, I told you I told him I got kicked out.”

“Chrissy, dingus! Obviously, Chrissy. Why would I think Eddie when you and Chrissy are thick as thieves?” Robin exclaims. “Does she not know? I mean, I haven’t said anything about it to her, but I have a motor mouth, so I need to keep an eye on that, because I don’t-”

“Robs, she knows,” Steve cuts her off, before she can spiral. “I came out to her today. I was going to tell you on your way to school.”

“She’s cool?” Robin asks.

“She’s cool,” Steve grins.

“Congrats, dingus,” she grins back, punching his arm in a way that is a bit too hard.

“Ouch,” Steve yelps, massaging where she hit him. He glares: “You’re stocking shelves during our shift, I can’t. You’ve injured me.”

“I haven’t injured you, you drama queen,” Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re the one telling me I have noodle arms. It can’t have been that bad.”

Steve is about to counter, but is interrupted by Eddie before he can. “Okay, so while this is entertaining, I am also confused. Are you doing okay now, Stevie? Is this some weird ritual you two do? Is that what you needed? Should I go?”

Robin bursts out into a loud cackle at Eddie’s questions and confused face as he awkwardly hovers in the doorway.

“Ah, sorry,” Steve flushes bright red. He and Robin can get caught up their own world and he honestly hadn’t realized how odd their bickering must look to Eddie, who held his hair back as he threw up from his nightmare like half an hour ago.

“It’s okay,” Eddie smiles. “Just catch me up a bit.”

“I’m good now, thank you for driving me after I freaked out on you,” Steve says.

“Yes, thank you,” Robin adds. “This dingus always drives when he’s freaked out and I keep telling him he should be safe, but he always does it anyway.”

Bitchily Steve crosses his arms and says: “I have to or I’ll never calm down. Do you want me to run all this way? Is that what you would prefer?”

“You could call,” Robin bitches, crossing arms right back.

“I don’t want to call your parents awake,” Steve counters.

“My parents don’t care, if you do,” Robin says.

“Okay, as fun as this wonder-twin arguing act is,” Eddie interrupts again. “Is there anything I can do? Or should I leave.”

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes again. “I’m just all over the place,” he says, like he is not always like this when Robin is there. “I feel kind of bad about how tonight ended.”

“That reminds me, what were you doing at Steve’s when he was asleep?” Robin butts in, like Steve hasn’t told her about Eddie’s visits.

Steve elbows her, but she ignores him as Eddie blushes. He kicks the ground a bit, before shrugging: “I mean, we hang out sometimes. Steve fell asleep on me, he looked peaceful. I didn’t wanna wake him.”

The confession makes Steve’s heart do something interesting as Robin coos: “That’s actually really sweet. He needs his rest.”

“He is right here,” Steve says, before Robin can embarrass him more. He turns back to Eddie and gives him a smile – Steve does not realize how that smile makes Eddie melt – and says: “Thank you for that. Again I’m sorry how tonight ended.”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Eddie smiles and Steve already misses the sweetheart from when he was comforting him. “We all have our shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods with a lopsided smile.

“Well, if you’re in good hands,” Eddie says and Robin pipes up: “He is,” which makes Eddie, smile before he goes on: “Then I’ll see you around.”

“See you around,” Steve greets, feeling a bit silly.

They watch Eddie climb into his van, before pulling out of the driveway. They smile and wave at him, but as they watch him, Robin comments: “I take back my thanks about him driving you, he is a danger on the road.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, before cutting himself off and saying: “My car is still at the cabin. How am I going to drive you?”

“Fuck,” Robin says. “Guess we’ll have to be really nice to my dad at breakfast tomorrow or I have to find my bike again.”

She closes the door and starts to turn off a few of the lights around the house as she puts on the kettle, Steve following behind her like a puppy. Her presence is soothing and he keeps a hold of the back of her shirt as they walk around.

When the tea is done, they take it to Robin’s room and press closely together on her bed as they sip their tea. It’s then that Robin asks: “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing new,” Steve shrugs. “You died. I couldn't save you.”

Robin makes a sympathetic noise and rests her head on his shoulder. Her hand creeps between them to squeeze his and the message is clear: You did save me, we made it out. We’re alive.

Steve squeezes back.

They sit like that, in a comfortable silence until their tea is gone, then Robin grins at him and says: “So, Eddie was a gentleman.”

“Shut up,” Steve blushes, as he pushes her grinning face away.

“Ahww, come on, give me something,” Robin whines. “He drove you here. He let you sleep on him, because you needed the rest.”

“He saw me throw up because my dreams scared me,” Steve deadpans. “It was the opposite of romantic. It was humiliating.”

Robin pouts: “You’re no fun, dingus. He didn’t look like he minded. He was worried about you, from where I was standing. He cares.”

“Of course he cares, we’re friends,” Steve defends himself.

“He knows you’re gay,” Robin points out.

“He does,” Steve says. “That doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Do you know if he is?” Robin asks. “Stop. No. I don’t want to ask that. No outing here, no, sir. I mean, if he is gay, then he is definitely into you.”

“You don’t know that,” Steve tells her, but inside he is bursting with feelings.

“Maybe not, but I have perfectly fine eyes, thank you,” Robin says.

“Shut up,” is all Steve replies and gets up to brush his teeth as Robin follows him, blessedly quiet about Eddie.

He wants to believe her, truly he does. He just knows he can’t. He isn’t ready to try and date anyone he actually likes. Another boy. And if he thinks too hard about it, he might do something stupid and it will blow up in his face. Being friends with Eddie is more than enough.

They don’t talk about it again and crawl into bed together. After his earlier nightmare, Steve sleeps uneasily, though soothed by Robin’s presence.

The next morning, neither Daisy nor Thomas are surprised that Steve is there. He and Robin are extra nice to Thomas, who can only drive Steve to his car so he doesn’t have to walk all the way out there, before work, while Robin has to bike to school.

Robin complains loudly about her father picking favorites, but it’s all in jest. The Buckleys always make Steve feel like a part of the family.

During the afternoon shift, he tells Robin all about coming out to Chrissy. She isn’t going to tell her about being a lesbian yet, but she is excited about how well she took it anyway.

The next day, Steve picks up the boys from Hellfire club and Eddie checks him over to see if he’s okay, before putting on their little act. The action makes Steve’s stomach flutter in a way he can’t fully suppress.

~~

A/N:

Ahwww, it’s going to well for Steve!!! ….Would be a shame if anything fucked that up….

[andromedaspark]

I physically ache with this fic. If yall don't read it i stg I'll find your IPs and gut you all. (If it's not your speed, or Fandom for my mutuals, that's fine. But please at least spread it around with a reblog.)

It's basically the story of RDR2 from Mary-Beth's point of view. It's in first person, starts at the very beginning of the game, there's fluff, there's angst, there's mild (game accurate) gore, there's love, their's loss, there's (game accurate) death, there's fear, there's anticipation. It's basically a Mary-Beth Gaskill x Kieran Duffy fix-it fic. It's nearly 75k words, 23 chapters, and is still ongoing.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52894666?view_full_work=true

It's called Sunbeams, Shadows, and Blindspots.

Not rated, no archive warnings apply, other relationships, F/M, found family, first person POV, canon divergence

TW: period typical sexism, references to SA, uncomfortable situations with men as the perpetrator, character death, near character death, period typical racism, references to child abuse, mentions of terminal illness, detailed mourning.

[redlikerozez]

Chapter 8 posted on AO3 and tumblr! Come get it while it's hot!!

悪魔の巫女 | Akuma no Miko | The Devil's Shrine Maiden written by RedLikeRozes

Summary:

The King of Curses stumbles upon a peculiar shrine maiden in his conquest who holds a powerful technique he wants nothing more than to understand and decides to hold her captive in his temple until he decides she's of no more interest.

“If you find use in someone like me, my lord, then I will serve you,” she begins, “but if I will be a burden, then I will accept death.”

Set in the Heian period.

Chapter List (more will be added as I write)

Chapter 1: Lobelia - approx word count 6.6k

Chapter 2: Oleander - approx word count 6.8k

Chapter 3: Marigold - approx word count 4.5k

Chapter 4: Chamomile - approx word count 4k

Chapter 5: Hyacinth - approx word count 3k

Chapter 6: Daphne - approx word count 3k

Chapter 7: Tansy - approx word count 3k

Chapter 8: Gladiolus - approx word count 5k

Character Art

Character Reference

Rough Sketch of Matsumae

Moodboard

I made a playlist on Spotify for this fic! Listen in order to follow along with the plot (kinda)! May also be periodically updated. (Be careful, the songs are not spoiler free for what’s gonna happen… You have been warned should you chose to listen.)

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3

All writing and art posted by this blog is original work by ©RedLikeRozez. Do not reupload, translate, copy, or claim as your own work.

[cherrydipp]

updated dipp brothers lore who cares

- TW: mentions of drug abuse, suicide read with caution

- They have two different dads… especially if we are talking about sean jones/cole trip (they look nothing alike to melody)

- All names involved so nobody gets confused:

- [x] Trip and Melvin’s grandmother - Louanne Dipp

- [x] Their mother - Melissa “Missy” Dipp

- [x] Trip’s father - Samson Alloys

- [x] Melvin’s father - Raymond Ulrich

- Each of their fathers weren’t involved in their life early on so they kept their mother’s maiden name, Dipp.

- Trip’s father, Samson Alloys, who killed himself before trip was even born by overdosing on pain medication. trip was an accident, he wasn’t meant to be conceived — their hookup was a foolish drunken mistake. and when his mother, Missy, told the man, he couldnt possibly bear the responsibility of having a son to a woman he barely even knew.

- Melvins father, Raymond Ulrich, is still alive but the boy is banned from seeing or meeting him. he isn’t even allowed to speak about him under Louanne’s roof, and especially not around her either. When they got married, circumstances in Melissa’s house became unfit for children. The man had an overly domineering sense of power in their home — if you could even call it one — his mind often drug-addled, same as her now deceased ex. Because of this, Louanne fought for Missy to give up her two children, which was not a hassle. It was sickening to her how easily her own daughter could give up her own kin.

- Their grandmother absolutely despises Raymond because of the way she watched him treat her daughter and how he changed her for the worse. she began to resent Missy — her own blood and flesh — her own daughter. Another banned name in the Dipp household.

- Louanne was an independent woman and she lived her life that way. Testing the limits of others around her, who scrutinized her in the streets due to period typical sexism. Her husband died of an unknown illness late in their relationship, leaving her a widow. Trip and Melvin were deprived of a father figure in their household, a spot that no matter how hard she tried — Louanne could never fill.

- The brothers never bother to talk about their parents. They’d rather wrestle each other or pick fun at the other and push their thoughts about the entire situation behind them. But it doesn’t go unnoticed to Melvin the way Trip’s eyes linger on the wall littered with baby pictures of their mother and grandmother, watching his older brother as he seemingly drifts off staring at them imagining a different life. No matter how desperately Melvin tries to stifle his sniffling or blink back tears, the walls between his and Trip’s room are thin enough that he can hear him muffled late at night.

- As they began to get older, Louanne grew distant. She could see signs of Missy seeping through their features, leaving a pit in her stomach. The woman often holes herself up in her bedroom lately, waiting for her grandchildren to go to school or run amuck in town. She has stopped asking where they are going, or where the fresh cuts and bruises all over their bodies have come from. Trip notice, glaring at their grandmother from across the dinner table. He finds himself growing more protective over Melvin lately (he always was but with the new situation, he can’t help but worry for him), fixing up his bruises, throwing a blanket over him when he falls asleep on the couch, trying to hide why Louanne has not spoken to them all day.

- Melvin asked one time and Trip quickly covered the topic with something like “She’s just tired — now c’mon, get your track bag or m’leavin’ without you,” or “Gramma wasn’t feelin’ too good.”