#and how much THE INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA IS NOT A JOKE

[oldtvandcomics]

Happy Queer Media Monday!

Today: I Dream In Another Language (2017)

I watched this movie a few weeks ago, and it STUCK.

(Don Evaristo and Don Isauro just before their first interview to record Zikril together.)

I Dream in Another Language is a Mexican magic realism movie about the death of a culture. It documents the efforts of a linguist trying to save the (fictional) language Zikril, spoken only by three old indigenous people. When one of them dies, the studies come to a halt, as the other two, Don Evaristo and Don Isauro, have not spoken to each other in over fifty years and categorically refuse to have anything to do with each other. As he looks further into this, the linguist discovers that the real reason for this feud is their past relationship and an awful lot of internalized homophobia.

Zkril is an artificial language, created specially for this movie out of respect for the people who still speak the endangered and disappearing languages today. The fact that it has seemingly magic powers, and that its speakers appear to be living on after their death, clearly puts the story into the magic realism genre.

This is NOT a happy movie. The internalized homophobia part is no joke, and the main theme of course is the loss of a language, and the culture that comes with it. 

But it damn sure is leaving an emotional impact.

I strongly suggest that everyone who is even vaguely interested in this subject read up about languages and language conservation. The Wikipedia page of this movie is as a good place to start as any, since there are related articles linked in the references list. I also would like to thank @celluloidrainbow for bringing this film to my attention.

Queer Media Monday is an action I started to talk about some important and/or interesting parts of our queer heritage, that people, especially young people who are only just beginning to discover the wealth of stories out there, should be aware of. Please feel free to join in on the fun and make your own posts about things you personally find important!

[jewishcissiekj]

i think the shift from wade having aggressive internalized (and outward) homophobia to him being very unapologetically queer is somewhere between the end of cable & deadpool and the bgeiining of his 2008 solo series. i think it has to do with daniel way toning down his general self-hatred and insecurities, and writing him as a more confident person. it also obviously has to do with the acceptance of queerness irl. to me a lot of the gay jokes that are made about him before way's run are very much apologetic in their existence, and very much try to push the narrative of "how embaressing this manly man has homosexual tendencies" (the cable & deadpool massage fantasy plays into this), but in Way's run he's no longer putting on a facade for himself, and literally has internal dialogue with his boxes and his queerness becomes a part of him more than just a gag (that one issue where he just shows up in a dress and it's not treated just as a joke inside the story for example). there's no specific turning point, it's a change in writing direction, but i definitely think that change is headed by daniel way, and it starts right at the deadpool arc in wolverine origins (the deep end, issues #21-25). that's my take.

[sparfloxacin]

hiiiiiiiiii <3 just popping in to tell ya how this week all I've been thinking about it Aleksi struggling to come to terms with the fact he's maybe not as straight as the thought he was, or maybe he has suspected something and/or has had minor crushes on men before but they've been so small and insignificant and fleeting that he's been able to ignore them or whatever, but then he started feeling all kinds of stupid feelings for Olli that simply wouldn't go away and he couldn't just brush them off and he was confused and panicking (not least because he's alread in a relationship) and he starts acting wierd when he's with Olli while simultaneously trying to act as normal as he can, e.g. still agreeing to share a room with him on tour etc., which obviously only highlights how weird he's acting around Olli, so of course Olli notices this and after a while he confronts Aleksi about it and maybe they have a verbal fight about it because Aleksi keeps insisting he's not acting weird while Olli tells him he totally is, and eventually Aleksi becomes so frustrated (and also he can't help but notice how Olli's round cheeks turn adorably pink when he's angry) that he just kisses Olli, and Olli is very confused for a while and Aleksi wants to die because he thinks he's just made the biggest mistake of his life but then Olli grabs him again and kisses him and they kiss and they kiss and they kiss and--- 😭😭😭😭😭😭

...so yeah, thoughts? 👉👈

hellooooo yes yes yes yes yessss 😩😩

for some reason I’m also obsessed with this trope and to be honest spent probably way too much time thinking about it this week 😭

Aleksi acting weird around Olli while simultaneously trying to act as normal as he can sounds so spot-on 🤧 also trying to make excuses to be as close to Olli as possible but still being scared and internally panicking 😩

I love the idea of Aleksi getting so frustrated that he just thinks fuck it and kisses Olli aaaaa 😭💞 I can easily imagine Aleksi getting angry and/or frustrated, mostly at himself, for falling for Olli and when realizing he’s not as straight as he thought he was 🤧

I also think the streams and the chat play a major role in this!! Maybe he had been doubting himself for a while but didn’t really want to think about it because it’s scary and maybe he had also been crushing on Olli without realizing it until he started streaming and saw the chat and all the kids’ comments about Oleksi and people assuming he’s straight and all that 😩

sorry for rambling my head is so full of thoughts it’s hard to form coherent sentences sljhkhnslljhwmsk

[hersterical]

This year has been a little rough on adult me, but 2024 sure has been the 2014 teen me deserved but wasn’t ready for

[dellerose]

so like that tweet like "why was spamtenna written like under the hays code" got me thinking

thinking about the fact that TV shows as a format are inherently both very SFW and repressed and also heteronormative. I don't know if heteronormativity even exists in the deltarune universe but there's certainly at least a meta implication meant to invoke it from a viewer perspective surrounding tenna and we DO know sexual puritanism is a thing in the DR world and that toriel is especially a hardass about it, so tenna by his literal nature in the household he is and by his format is basically forced to repress his sense of love, sexuality and ability to say outrageous things (especially because of the parental locks). we see this change when he's immediately freed from this using swears and showing the music channel in chapter 4.

game shows are ESPECIALLY heteronormative, often with jokes about nagging wives and usually the only leniency of sex mentions is often at the detriment of women, which makes tenna's lack of mention for any of these aspects particularly standout, like a negative space of something where you'd expect to be there but there isn't. instead you get fun flourishes and flamboyant movements and a desperate desire to keep being watched.

I'm saying basically that TV is gay as hell and represses the fuck out of it, and you include the knowledge that being gay was a HUGE career ending accusation that was taken as seriously as death threats throughout the entire 20th century up until the 90s (and extending a bit into the 2000s) and it very much gives the vibe that tenna is supposed to invoke an older gay man coming into the new millennium unaware of how much the world is changing, allowing him to express himself and be himself, instead shoving it down in fear that he will no longer be relevant or watched or loved for it. you throw in that "4am shock therapy" joke and it's BLATANTLY clear yeah, this is an older repressed gay man who lived in a sexually puritan household who is afraid to fully express himself due to abandonment issues. ouch!

and then we got spamton.

despite all of the jokes about haha internalized homophobia spamton, actually, spamton has no shame about his sexuality. he still can't fully express it for a couple reasons, the first being in a game that's mostly SFW and it just wouldn't be relevant, with the bulk of what we got coming from the spamton sweepstakes (business loving businessman) but also, because now in his current form, he's a spam email. an inherently heteronormative format as well.

spam emails are literally a format that falsely feigns attraction and the allure of women for the sake of scamming people, often out of desperation. it's a veneer, an obfuscation of true intent for the sake of getting money. it's especially interesting cause again spamton doesn't hide what he is—into men—and he clearly DOESN'T WANT to be a spam email. it's literally him losing the ability to speak truly as himself and having to supplant it with raunchy and deceptive ads to convey what he wants. which you could argue mirrors societal pressures where even if you're honest with yourself about being queer, you still need to play by society's rules and use the words of greater heteronormative society to get what you want. it's like it's literally injecting itself in his brain despite that not being who he is. and we are supposed to get the sense that spamton is the way he is—rendered unable to speak normally like he wants to—from whatever eldritch force contacted him on the phone. throw this in with him being the key to the weird route with the thornring and it's literally like he's been forced into heteronormativity as an eldritch force (which, again, doesn't seem to exist in the deltarune universe!) and then we as a player in the weird route are literally forcing kris (nonbinary) and noelle (likely a lesbian) into heteronormative roles that make them miserable and destructive to try to defy the very cloth of the reality of deltarune and break the game down to its barest bones.

and then we gotta remember spamton wasn't always like that. if he can be upfront while still speaking in spam injected format, he was probably more upfront and blatant about it back during the big shot era. by his very nature, he could be! he's part of the internet, a new modern age where people can freely communicate without worrying about the censors killing them. he's also an advertisement, which famously even on television could get away with overtly sexual ads that normal programming couldn't, and then you start to realize the deeper implications of spamton offering to bring tenna into the new modern era and teach him the ropes.

it ain't just about technology. spamton literally represented on a metanarrative level, to tenna, someone able to be freely himself in his orientation and who literally haunted the halls of TV world with how he asserted himself. it's something unthinkable to tenna and yet technically allowed since ads can get away with that, right? and then you got spamton offering to teach him technology and how that represents freeing tenna from obsolescence and when you connect the two it's literally like spamton brought out a side of tenna that he deeply repressed and felt shameful about and could bring him up to speed that in the new era he doesn't have to hide it. and when he lost spamton he lost that assurance that he could exist in the modern era. he lost the ability to fully be himself. it's not until the fun gang free him from the dreemurr home that he can start to feel that again. it's literally the embodiment of outrageous, open advertising meeting the repression of cable television. spamton literally loved tenna so much he was going to let him be open and free, on a metatextual level, before being robbed of that ability by the very same eldritch forces that robbed his speech and forced him to speak in the words of others with desires he doesn't want.

yeah he totally fucked that TV

toby fox is a master of subtext cause what the fuck. normally with most writers I'd think this is unintentional and just a convenient coincidence but that's never the case with toby!!! he always loves adding 15 billion layers of subtext!!! what the fuck man. just rip out my heart and stomp on it

[absdollievu]

Is It Casual Now?

internalized homophobia!abby x lesbian!reader

Warnings: lesbian sex (abby!receiving)

I lost the request to this but if you were the anon who requested this, here ya go!

You still remember the first time Abby Anderson looked at you like you weren’t normal.

It was sophomore year, outside the locker room after gym. You were laughing with a girl you had a crush on—nothing big, just flirting, the kind you thought no one really noticed. But Abby did. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, watching like she’d stepped into a room that smelled wrong. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes narrowed. And then she said it—loud enough for everyone to hear.

“No wonder no one wants to change next to you.”

You froze. The other girl laughed, awkward and sharp, and peeled away from you like she’d touched something dirty.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to. The damage was done.

That was how it started.

⸻

Abby never hit you. Never shoved you into lockers or called you slurs. Her cruelty was quieter, more calculated. Snide comments in the hallway. Avoiding group projects when your name came up. A pointed roll of her eyes when you answered a question in class. Loud whispers of “Jesus” or “disgusting” when she passed you holding another girl’s hand on campus.

And she had a following—friends who mirrored her disapproval with mocking stares and muttered jokes, like she gave them permission. It didn’t matter that she was smart, respected, even admired. Her words were always sharper around you. Her tolerance thinner. Her discomfort obvious.

You learned to ignore it. Or you tried to.

It wasn’t the worst bullying you’d faced. But coming from her, it hurt more.

Because before that moment in sophomore year, Abby Anderson used to smile at you.

Just once or twice. Passing in the hall. When you said something funny in class. There was a flicker of warmth there—confusion, maybe, or curiosity. You remembered thinking she had kind eyes.

But now you’re used to Abby Anderson looking at you like you’re something she wants to scrape off the bottom of her shoe.

It’s a stare you’ve come to recognize: a cold, disdainful sweep from head to toe that lingers a beat too long, like she’s cataloguing everything she hates about you. Or maybe everything she doesn’t understand.

She doesn’t talk to you anymore. Which is weird, because you’ve had at least three classes with her over the last two years. You move in the same social circles, even if they rarely overlap. You’ve been at the same parties, stood feet apart at campus rallies.

But she acts like you’re radioactive.

Like if she got too close, she might catch whatever makes you… you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. You roll your eyes when she glares. You smile brighter, laugh louder, flirt more when she’s in the room—just to spite her. If she’s going to judge you, then she might as well have something to look at.

But when your professor calls out your name alongside hers for the upcoming group project, your stomach drops.

You don’t hate her. You wish you did.

⸻

She sits next to you in the library like it’s a punishment, her legs splayed wide, arms crossed, a hoodie pulled low over her face like armor.

“I’m not doing the girly stuff,” she mutters before you’ve even opened your laptop. “No pink fonts. No cutesy transitions.”

You arch an eyebrow, smiling tightly. “You think I use pink fonts?”

Her lips press into a line. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

She finally looks at you. Her eyes are sharp, blue-gray, too intense for someone who’s always pretending not to care. “Just… I’m not putting rainbows all over the slides.”

There it is.

“Right,” you say, teeth clenched. “God forbid someone think you’re not aggressively straight.”

Her jaw ticks. “I’m not doing this.”

You lean back in your chair, folding your arms. “Then don’t.”

But she doesn’t move.

⸻

You meet again the next day. And the next.

She doesn’t say much, but she shows up. Brings notes. Stares hard at the screen and refuses to make eye contact.

You catch her looking, though—always out of the corner of your eye. A flick of her gaze to your lips when you chew your pen cap. A second too long staring at your hands when you scroll.

She’s not subtle. But she wants to be.

You don’t say anything. Not yet.

⸻

It happens on the fifth day, when you offer to get her a drink from the café downstairs. She grunts something like approval, and when you return with a coffee just the way she likes it—black, two sugars, you remembered—she stares at the cup like it’s a trap.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she mutters.

“I know,” you say, shrugging. “But you look like you’re gonna bite someone if you don’t get some caffeine in you.”

She doesn’t smile. She never does. But her eyes flick toward you—curious. Conflicted.

She doesn’t thank you.

You don’t need her to.

⸻

The breaking point comes when you’re at her dorm. A last-minute cram session. Her roommate’s gone, the place smells like cedar and something faintly floral—body wash, maybe. You sit on the couch, notebooks scattered between you.

It’s late. You’re both tired. And something in the air has shifted.

She’s quieter tonight. Less combative. She leans back against the cushion, legs stretched out, her knee brushing yours. She doesn’t pull away.

You glance at her profile—sharp, defined, so fucking beautiful it’s painful. Her lips are slightly parted. Her throat works when she swallows.

And then she says it. Out of nowhere. Like it’s been boiling under her skin for years.

“I don’t hate you.”

You blink. “Okay…?”

“I mean, I act like I do. I know. But I don’t.”

You set your pen down. Carefully. Slowly. “Then why do you treat me like shit?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her jaw clenches, and her eyes stay fixed on some spot in the distance.

Then, quietly—so quiet you almost miss it:

“Because you make me feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Silence.

You shift toward her, cautiously. “What does that mean?”

She exhales, long and shaky. “It means I don’t understand how you can just be so… open about it. Like it’s not a big deal. Like you don’t even care.”

You stare. “About being gay?”

She flinches at the word. Doesn’t answer.

“Abby,” you say softly, gently, “are you—?”

“Don’t.”

Her voice is sharp. Defensive. But not angry—scared.

You reach out, almost instinctively, your hand brushing her wrist. “It’s okay. Whatever it is you’re feeling—”

“No, it’s not,” she snaps, and finally looks at you. Her eyes are wild. Shining. “I wasn’t raised to think this was okay. I’ve been trying to ignore it for years. But you—”

She stops herself. Breathing hard. Her whole body trembling.

“You make it worse,” she says, voice breaking. “Because when I look at you, I can’t pretend anymore.”

Your throat tightens. “Then don’t pretend.”

You reach up. Touch her cheek.

She freezes. Eyes wide. Lips parted.

And you kiss her.

Soft. Questioning.

She doesn’t move for a heartbeat. Then her hands rise, uncertain, and she kisses you back.

It’s messy. Desperate. Her mouth moves like she’s starving for it, like she’s been craving this for years and never let herself feel it. Her fingers clutch your sides, your shirt, your hair—anything she can anchor herself to.

She moans into your mouth. It’s raw. Vulnerable. Scared.

You pull back only enough to whisper, “Are you sure?”

“No,” she breathes. “But I don’t want to stop.”

You pull back just a little, only to catch your breath—and hers.

Her lips are still parted, flushed from the kiss. Her chest rises and falls like she just ran a mile. Her eyes—those sharp, guarded, unflinching eyes—are wide now. Uncertain. Open.

“Abby,” you whisper, one hand still at her jaw, thumb brushing her cheekbone, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Her breath stutters.

“I want to,” she says quickly, then—softer—“I think I want to.”

You nod, slow and steady. “That’s enough.”

She leans forward again, not quite kissing you—just pressing her forehead to yours, her breathing shallow, her hands trembling at your sides.

“I’ve never…” she starts, then stops. “Not with a girl. Not with—someone like you.”

You smile, small, just for her. “I’ll go slow.”

That gets a little exhale out of her. A nervous laugh, almost bitter. “You’re too good at this.”

You shake your head. “I’m not trying to be good at anything. I just want to be with you.”

That word—with—makes her shudder.

But she nods. Swallows hard.

You kiss her again, slower now. Less desperation, more depth. Her hands roam your sides like she’s learning you, memorizing every inch she’s never allowed herself to imagine touching. When your tongue teases the seam of her lips, she lets out a soft gasp, surprised at how natural it feels to open up to you.

Your hands slip under her hoodie, fingertips brushing her waist. She tenses—but doesn’t stop you. Just breathes harder, like every new inch of skin you find sends a shock through her spine.

You murmur, “Can I take this off?”

She nods, barely. So you do—pulling the hoodie up and over her head, revealing a plain gray tank top beneath that clings to her chest, rising and falling with every breath. You trace your fingers along the hem of it, and she closes her eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper.

She laughs again—nervous, shaky. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not saying it for your sake. I mean it.”

That makes her open her eyes.

Something flickers there—pain, longing, disbelief. Like no one’s ever said that and meant it.

You lean down, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Then another. And another.

When you kiss just beneath the strap of her tank, her fingers tighten in your shirt. Her head falls back, and her mouth opens in a quiet, breathless sound that goes straight through you.

You shift to straddle her lap slowly, giving her time to react. She watches every movement, frozen in place, lips parted. You sit over her, chest to chest, your thighs on either side of hers.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

She nods—quick, almost frantic. “Yeah. Fuck—yeah.”

Your hands trail under the hem of her shirt, up over her stomach, feeling the solid muscle underneath. When your fingers graze the bottom of her bra, she flinches—but not from fear.

“Can I…?” you ask.

She swallows. “Yeah.”

You pull her tank up and over her head. Her bra’s simple—black, cotton, a little worn at the seams. She looks down, arms twitching like she wants to cover herself.

“Hey,” you whisper, taking her hands gently. “You don’t have to hide.”

She exhales through her nose. “I’m not hiding.”

“No?” you smile. “Then let me see you.”

She nods, just once, and drops her arms.

You unclasp her bra slowly, sliding the straps down her shoulders, watching her the whole time. Her chest is flushed, rising and falling rapidly.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Abby.”

She closes her eyes like it hurts to hear. Like it’s too much.

But when you lean forward and kiss her breast—just above the nipple—her back arches slightly, breath catching in her throat.

Your tongue teases her nipple, slow and deliberate, and she moans—soft, almost like she’s trying not to. Her hands grip your hips hard. You take your time, sucking gently, kissing lower, worshipping her like she’s something sacred.

When you look up at her, her eyes are glassy. Her mouth slack. Her thighs are shifting under you like she’s already aching for more.

You slide one hand down, under the waistband of her sweatpants.

She freezes.

You pause immediately. “Too much?”

“No,” she says, voice hoarse. “Just—no one’s ever touched me there.”

Your heart swells at the vulnerability in her voice.

“I’ll be gentle.”

You ease your hand down, fingers slipping beneath her underwear. She’s already wet—soaking, warm, and trembling under your touch.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, half horrified, half amazed.

You laugh softly, kissing the side of her neck. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to want this.”

She doesn’t answer—but when your fingers find her clit, she gasps and grabs at your shoulders like she’s falling.

You circle it slow, barely-there pressure, watching her come undone piece by piece. Her hips lift. Her breath stutters. She bites her lip so hard you have to kiss her just to make her stop.

“Let go,” you murmur. “I’ve got you.”

She moans into your mouth, louder this time, and grinds against your hand. You slip two fingers inside her—slow, careful—and her entire body jerks.

“Holy fuck,” she chokes.

“You’re doing so good,” you whisper.

She clutches you tighter, rides your fingers like she’s chasing something she’s never let herself feel. You keep your pace steady—deep and slow, thumb brushing her clit, her breath getting more ragged by the second.

And when she comes—God, she shakes. Her body stiffens, legs trembling, her mouth falling open in a desperate moan she doesn’t even try to stifle. Her eyes squeeze shut. Her head drops against your shoulder.

You hold her through it, whispering softly into her hair.

When the tremors stop, she collapses back into the couch, breathless, wrecked.

You kiss her temple. “You okay?”

She nods. Barely.

Then, quietly: “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

You smile, pressing your forehead to hers.

“That’s just the beginning.”

⸻

[otamotone-dnp]

I’m not joking when I say I would pay a lot of money to see dan and phil sit down and earnestly and genuinely discuss how they made it 15+ years, how they communicate, how they got through the hard years and the tough times with internalized homophobia and fame. I know some people are like oh that’s just what a healthy relationship is but they have had to survive So Much together!!!! even a fraction of what they’ve been through would have put major strain on most couples and broke many up and they got stronger!!! I just want to see them seriously talk about it because when they do say little snippets about relationship communication, they (especially dan) seem so proud of theirs and I know they have Thoughts about it

[sesmiq]

HEART. I wanted to be somewhere From iron to red drench 그 둘 사이 어딘가에 ┆bttm m!reader x top m!oc(riku) ‧★ 𐔌 warnings: one of my heavier work, not finished sadly, may cause dysphoria or discomfort please read on your own discretion, angst no comfort, internalized homophobia, cross dressing, a pinch of religious guilt, no prep (always prep your partners!!), blowjob (giving), reverse cowgirl (receiving),, not proof read

Riku was born into a family that strictly follows the bible.

the kind of family where love was a commandment, where sin was an unforgivable stain.

from a young age, his parents taught him two important things, 

one, boys shouldnt cry.

two, two people of the same gender cant marry each other.

as he grew older, he stayed with these rules. he only dated girls, never cried even at his pets death, and was never really close to the “weird” boys in his class.

everything was going well for him, as long as he follows the rule, life will be normal,

right?

that was until you transferred to his school during the last year of high school, who even transfers school in their senior year? he asked his friends, laughing it off until he saw you.

the moment you walked into the room, it felt like the room became more vibrant, like how the male lead felt when he first saw the female lead in a shoujo manga.

when he saw you, the first thing he noticed was your presence, it was different from the others. something that made his chest tightens, his thoughts short circuit,

and his heart started to beat faster.

his friend nudged him from the side, muttering a short ‘youre staring.’, making him come back from his senses,

no. 

this is wrong. his mind screamed. he can already imagine the disappointment from both his parents if they knew. you were a guy. hes a guy. it just wouldnt work.

he loathed you, he hated the way he made him feel.

but despite all that, he mustered the courage to go up to you during lunch break.

“hey, my name’s riku, youre the new kid who sat in front of me, right?”

he shouldnt have done that. shouldnt have introduced himself to you.

because the moment you looked up from your food and smiled at him— everything in him froze. this is wrong. I shouldnt feel like this. he said to himself, again.

but the feelings didnt go away.

a few years had passed.

but sadly for riku, the doki doki feelings for you didnt. 

he was fully convinced that once the two of you graduated high school, you’ll slowly drift apart and cut off all contact. then the feelings would disappear.

that is, until he saw you on orientation week at his university during his freshmen year.

you didnt expect to see him either, but here you were, standing face to face with riku again like the first time you two met.

since that day, the two of you have only grown closer.

it was casual at first, you’d walk to class together, wait for each other’s class to end so you can have dinner, just the two of you.

nothing too much. you two thought to yourself. its just being friendly.

but somehow, the feelings only deepened.

you began to look for him in a crowded hallway. you couldnt help but notice how his hand would brush against yours whenever you pass him a drink. when he waited for you outside of your lecture hall during one of your night classes.

you told yourself to not think much about it, he cant feel the same way towards you, he had multiple girlfriends throughout the year.

he wouldnt be interested in you like that.

but sometimes, you found yourself hoping that maybe, just maybe, he felt something too.

Now, the two of you were at the bar, graduation just a few weeks away.

riku didnt think much when you invited him to a bar you two usually goes to, telling him that you needed to tell him something.

you two talked while drinking, laughing at some lame joke riku made or complaining about a certain professor who kept giving you assignments as if you didnt have other classes.

a few drinks in, and riku was slowly getting tipsy. you noticed the way how he started to slur his words, how his hands are slightly shaking whenever he brings his cup to his lips.

“‘you good?” you asked him, voice slightly moving his hair away from his face when he started to lay his head onto the table.

he didnt respond at first, just stared at you unblinking. his gaze lingers longer than usual, the kind that made your chest tighten. 

the silence between you two was almost too quiet if it werent for the booming music playing from the bars speaker.

you felt your heart racing, just nervously gripping onto your own drink as riku stared at you.

before you could say something to unease the tension, out of nowhere, riku blurted out something.

“i wish you were a girl.”

you didnt respond right away, just stared at him with your mouth agape. how the hell are you supposed to reply to something like that?

you stared at him, expecting him to say something but his gaze didnt falter. he looked at you, as if waiting for you to say something.

you shifted in your seat, gripping onto your glass a little too tight, like it was the only thing holding you back from.. doing something.

your mind raced, what the hell does this mean?

does he like you? he did tell you about his religious family, it doesnt make sense.

the silence between you stretched longer, the music from the bar— casual by chappel roan played loudly in the background but it felt muffled.

“I-” you started, your voice slightly trembling. “..youre drunk riku, you dont mean that.” you tried to tell yourself. maybe he said it as a joke. Maybe he meant something else.

his dark eyes flickered for a moment, but he didnt looked away from you. “..no.” he shaked his head, you expected him to apologize, to laugh it off- or just. say nothing.

“i do mean it.” he repeated himself, quieter this time. before looking away from you to take another sip of his drink.

taking a deep breath, you ordered another drink for yourself. downing it in one go before facing riku again, leaning closer to his face.

his breath hitched slightly, but he didnt pull away. 

“cmon.” you whispered, sliding your arm around his waist, pulling him just enough to drape his arm around your shoulder. you could feel his weight leaning against yours, he was heavy, but you didnt mind. “lets get you home.”

he leaned onto you with a groan, nuzzling his face into your neck and for a moment, you nearly forgot what he said earlier.

the walk to his dorm didnt take long, you fumbled for his key card while trying to hold him at the same time. you  soon unlocked the door. laying him down in a comfortable position on the couch. 

you turned back to leave his dorm, his hand reached out to pull you slightly towards him. his touch was so gentle, as if he was testing the waters.

“stay,” he murmured, his eyes half lidded.

you hesitated for a second, pulling your hand back from his hold. you brushed a hair from his face, “get some rest.” you whispered, walking towards the door slowly. “ill see you tomorrow.”

with that, you turned and left, making sure that his door was locked before you did so. heart still pounding in your chest, tears threatening to spill out as you walked.

the next day came in a miserable blur.

thankfully it was the weekend, which meant no classes, an excuse to pretend things were normal.

riku woke up with a hammering hangover, groaning into his pillow for drinking too much last night.

he got up from his couch to go to the kitchen, chugging a cup of cold water and popping 2 painkillers.

he texted you once he found his phone on the coffee table, complaining about his hangover and thanking you for bringing him back to his dorm. “thx for bring me back btw” “i owe you one” “my head is killing me” 

he waited for your reply, sitting in front of his tv as he kept glancing at his phone every time a notification came in. expecting for your contact name to appear on the screen.

he stared at the ‘havent read’ on his screen for a second, before typing out a text again, “i didnt say anything stupid, did i?”

he flipped through the channels mindlessly, not really watching whatever is on the tv.. just, waiting.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, he heard a buzz from his phone- a ringtone he used specially for you— no one noticed by the marias.

he scrambled for his phone, nearly stubbing his toe in the process, and unlocked his phone as if he won the lottery.

on top of his screen was glowing, “yn 𖹭.ᐟ hands slightly sweaty (from nervousness? or from the heat, he wasnt so sure himself.), he hastily clicked on the message,

“drink more water^^”

.. just that? no silly stickers that you usually send, no whining about how he better treat you for food as a thanks? 

just a simple, distant text. like a nurse reminding him to take his medication.

nothing else.

he stared at the message, lips twitching into something like an irritated smile, “hah?” he scoffed.

before he could type in another message, he heard a knock from the door.

grumbling underneath his breath, he dragged himself to the door unwillingly, brain fogged with confusion, anger, regret?

he opened the door, ready to give whoever decided to knock on his door at this time a piece of his mind,

but then, he realizes it was you,

standing at his door in the dimly lit hall of his dorm, he glanced down at you, eyes widened at what youre wearing.

he stared at what you were wearing, a loose shirt and shorts but from his view, he could see the white strawberry patterned frilly bra, the strap just peeking through the neckline of the shirt. 

youre wearing a cheap long wig, some mascara and a pink glossy lip gloss. he takes note of your eyes, red and slightly puffy- like you cried before coming here. 

to top it all off, you wore an oversized brown coat, as if you were trying to hide the outfit on the way here.

at first, the two of you didnt say anything, just stared at each other. 

riku wanted to throw up, what did he say for you to do this? did he do anything stupid? dared you to do this?

before he said anything, you smiled at him, “i tried,” you whispered,

“you said youd love me if i was a girl, right?”

he shouldve asked you to leave, yelled at you to never come back and closed the door in your face.

but pathetically enough, he didnt.

instead, he pulled you in by your wrist so tightly to the point it hurts. he slammed the door behind you with a loud bang! 

“you look pathetic.” he hissed, his hands discarding your coat and throwing it to the side,

you only blinked at him, smiling even though your eyes looked nervous.

he grabbed your jaw, squeezing your cheeks and glaring down at you with something between disgusted and desperation.

“isnt this what you wanted?” you asked him, voice small, fake smiling.

riku couldnt breathe. his breath hitched when you brought up your hand to touch his face.

“touch me,” your voice sounded softer, “you can pretend.”

he almost backed away. almost. 

but you looked up at him so sweetly, like he was your whole world. like you wanted him to ruin you.

he pulled you in for a kiss, it wasnt like those romantic kisses a couple would share in the movies. It was ugly, your teeth keep clashing with each other, tongue fighting for dominance.

riku’s hand slides under your shirt, tugging it down enough to see the bra.

“where the hell did you even get this?” he asked you, “dont tell me you got a matching set of panties too.”

at this comment, you looked at the side, as if youre guilty.

he raised his eyebrows at this, his holds on you tightened, just enough to make you squirm. 

he didnt say anything, just dragged you to his room, making you kneel in front of him while he sat on his bed. 

he looked down at you, as if expecting you to do something. “suck.” he says, pointing towards his crotch.

you didnt say no. 

you fumbled at the waist of his pants, fingers trembling and nearly scratched your nails at his skin.

you stared awkwardly at his member, you never did this before— only watched it happen on low quality porn.

you leaned into him, lips brushing against the head of his dick, awkward and shaky.

the moment you took him into your mouth, he hissed before grabbing a fistful of your hair (wig?) and pulling you back,

“watch your teeth.” he grunted, then pushed your head lower to take him deeper.

you choked immediately, the foreign feeling of his dick deep in your throat.

drools dripped from the corner of your mouth, the salty mix with bitter taste filling your nose and tongue, making you feel like puking.

you gagged, eyes watering slightly.

yet he didnt care when you tried to pull back instinctively, he pushed you down again, your nose against his pubic hair.

you whimpered around him, desperate but humiliated. your knees burn from the carpet on the floor. 

but you continued bobbing your head, tears stinging your eyes when riku started to move his hip forward shallowly. 

you gagged again, spit and precum dripping down your chin yet you didnt pull away.

“‘m close,” riku hissed, attempting to pull out but you wrapped your arms around his waist, refusing to let him go.

his fingers tightened in your hair, tugging harshly enough to make you whine.

he cursed under his breath, then  with a sharp gasp, he came inside your throat.

yet you didnt pull away, you stayed there, drinking up everything he had to give to you, letting him fill you up like you havent eaten for days.

he didnt look at you at first, just covered his eyes with his arm while catching his breath.

you looked up at him, pulling off his dick with a small pwah! just waiting for the man above you to say or do something.

you stayed kneeling there for a second, dazed and blinking up at him.

he soon snap out of it, suddenly finding your arms to yank you up from the cold floor.

you nearly stumbled, before you can fully find your footing, he dropped you onto the bed roughly, like you were nothing but a doll.

you werent sure what to do, you sat there, staring at him. his body sprawled out, his legs slightly spread, his cock twitching and half hard against his stomach.

you crawled up into his lap without thinking, riku stared down at you for a second — breathing heavy, face twisted into something between regret and lust — before his hands fell away, like even touching you was too much.

you straddled him awkwardly, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hip, breath hitching when you felt his cock twitch underneath the thin layer of your shorts.

you started to grind onto him slowly, almost shyly, hips rocking against him like you were afraid he would run away, though, he didnt stop you. you let out a tiny whimper at the friction of his member rubbing against you.

he didnt move at first until he brought his hands up, not to hold you, just held onto the bed sheet tightly. his hand twitches every time you grind down onto him.

you kept moving your hips, your breath catching every time your own dick rubbed against his own.

after a while, he finally said something, “turn around.” he muttered, his voice low and tight in his throat.

you blinked at his command, head tilted slightly to the side as if you were confused, the wig somewhat sideway on your head— but you obeyed.

you shifted your position slugglisly, turning your back towards him while youre still in his lap. your thighs trembled, tired from kneeling for too long.

riku wasnt patient. 

he grabbed your waist, his finger digging in. he lowered his hand towards the hem of your shorts, yanking it to the side roughly—

revealing a white frilly panties with the same strawberry pattern as the bra you were wearing.

he didnt say anything, just scoffed before shoving the panties to the side as well, exposing your hole to the cold air, the fabric snapping against your thigh. “bite your shirt.” he tells you, his hand fondling with your ass, pinching the meat slightly, making you mewl out in pain (maybe even pleasure? ponders.)

you did what he tells you anyway, bringing the edge of your shirt on your own and biting it down.

you turned your shoulder slightly to the side, glancing at him. he noticed your gaze and grabbed your head to face the wall again. 

“what are you waiting for?”  he said, his voice cold, as if he was disgusted, impatient. “do it yourself.” you flinched at the harsh tone of his voice, your hand fumbled as you reached down, guiding him to your entrance. 

you whimpered when you sank down slowly, fingers unintentionally digging into riku’s thigh to keep yourself from falling, making him hiss in pain. the stretch burned, the mix of your spit and his cum from earlier made it bearable to take.

it doesnt make the pain go away, but enough for you to slide down until your ass meets his hips. 

you could feel him in your gut, deep— too deep, like he was fucking up into your guts and trying to find something, (a womb, perhaps.)

yet, your walls still squeezed around him like you didnt want to let him go.

you stayed still, trying to catch your breath, teeth still biting onto the fabric of your shirt. he noticed this, he brought his hand up to grab your flat chest through the thin fabric of the bra.  

he palmed your chest lazily, tugging at the frill of the bra, fingers slowly curly towards the inward,

his fingers barely came in contact with your nipple at first, fingers brushing lightly against your sensitive skin just circling, almost teasing.

you could barely hold back your whimper, you bit down harder on the fabric as your body jolted from the cold sensation of riku’s finger.

then without warning, his finger curled, pinching and tugging onto your perky nipple sharply.

you nearly cried out in pain, but all that came out was a muffled whine.

riku stilled for a second, his hand, once holding on you hardly, loosened just a little.

“you okay?” his voice came out low, quiet and rushed. like he regretted saying it once it had already passed his lips.

then, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed once again.

“who said you could stop moving?” he murmured, his voice still low- but not as cruel as before. he grabbed onto your hips and lifted you up slightly, slamming you back down.

you whined when you felt his dick hit your prostate dead-on, hips trembling from the sudden movement. you started moving again, slow and shaky, each bounce shallow and pathetic.

your movement grew desperate, trying to keep the rhythm even when your thigh burned. 

riku watched, his jaw tight. his nails dug deeper into your skin, holding you in place.

he didnt move, didnt thrust, just sat there as you kept rolling your hips clumsily.

your knees screamed from the pressure and your hole throbbed hopelessly. each movement sent a sharp jolt up your spine, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes anytime soon.

if it werent for the shirt in your mouth muffling your whimpers, a security guard is probably called to rikus dorm at this point.

his hand rested on your hip, hes not clutching it, not controlling- just stayed there. like he wasnt trying to touch you, watching your grind down desperately.

“pathetic,” he grumbled, more to himself than to you. "cant even do this right.”

your hips stuttered, but you keep grinding, slower now.

a/n ts is unfinished im so sorry guys (◞‸ ◟);; i have no other excuses other than procrastination, no motivs and i have a j*b now so ausghshs if i can i would finish but its been rotting for,, 2 months in my google docs now </3 i feel bad for not feeding you guys too,, please dont burn me at stake

[my-castles-crumbling]

gay - black brothers - @taylorswiftmicrofic - cw: internalized homophobia, but it's a happy ending - word count: 441

(someone requested Sirius going to Regulus for comfort! I also have a more serious version of this type of conversation in my longfic, Clandestine as well as this microfic)

Regulus Black had seen many things in his life. It came with the territory of being best friends with Barty Crouch, Jr, and brothers with Sirius. But he never, not once, would have bet all the money in the world, that he would ever see Sirius Black standing outside of the Slytherin Common Room, begging to see him.

“Have you killed someone?” he asked nervously, stepping aside to let his brother in. “I can’t protect you from Azkaban, Sirius.”

“No. No, I-” Sirius sat on the luxurious couch, wringing his hand and looking shockingly lost for words. “I didn’t know who to talk to.”

“Don’t you have three equally-obnoxious friends to talk about your emotions with?” Regulus drawled, though something in him was a bit worried. Things had to be bad if Sirius was going to him.

“I can’t talk to them. Pete can’t keep a secret to save anyone’s life, James…I don’t know how he’d feel about this, and Remus…well, it’s about Remus,” Sirius mumbled, looking down. “Please, Reg, can I just-”

“Fine, alright!” Regulus sighed, sitting as well, crossing his arms as he did so. “What is it, then?”

“I…think I’m going crazy,” Sirius whispered, gray eyes flickering up to meet Regulus’s before turning downward again.

Resisting the urge to make an ill-timed joke, Regulus blinked. “Okay. Erm. Why?”

“Because. I keep having dreams,” the older boy uttered, looking terrified.

“Dreams about…?”

“Dreams about…” Sirius took a deep breath then swallowed. “Kissing Remus.”

It took every ounce of Regulus’s self control not to burst out laughing. As it was, he had to let out a little cough of shock, covering his mouth to try to hide the grin on his face. “And you think that makes you crazy?” he asked, lip still quivering.

“Yes!” Sirius nearly-screamed. “Who has dreams like that, Reg? That’s insane! That’s gross! That’s-”

“That’s gay, Sirius,” Regulus interrupted him, rolling his eyes. 

“I’m not-” Sirius started to protest, but then stopped. “I don’t think I’m-” his eyes shifted and he paused again. “I really feel like…”

“D’you wanna kiss him in real life, too?” Regulus asked, trying to add at least a bit of gentleness to his tone.

“So much,” Sirius moaned, covering his face with his hands. 

“Right. That’s gay,” Regulus nodded, this time unable to stop himself from snorting.

“Oh, fuck,” the Gryffindor sighed. 

“It’s alright. On the bright side, now we have at least one thing in common,” Regulus shrugged.

“You- you’re also-?” Sirius asked, sitting up again.

Regulus grinned. “Poor Mother will have a heart attack when she finds out we’re ending the family line.”

Both of them burst into laughter.

[rhiannonsknife]

what abt a pt 2 where Jackie and r are sharing a room while the nationals are happening and after their little.. session they had, r was not talking to Jackie at all not even for team strategies. which made things easier at first for Jackie but she also began to dread it. And at one particular match one of the opponents keeps fouling r to the point that r cant play no longer and Jackie gets really mad and does something to get herself kicked off the pitch and then she storms to the locker room to comfort r

── WHAT’S THE NAME OF THE GAME?

— summary: part 2 of this.

— warnings: as always: implied cheating & internalized homophobia. angst. some nsfw content. so mdni. i did not beta read this. also i don’t know shit about soccer.

jackie thought this would be easier. she had really thought this would be easier.

the moment she told you to stay away after what happened in your involuntarily shared hotel room, she’d convinced herself that it was for the best. that she could pretend it hadn’t happened at all. that she could focus on nationals, on playing her best, on not getting distracted (on, for once, not feeling the constant urge to have you knuckle deep inside her whenever you’re around).

and for the first couple of days, it seemed like her plan was working. you were quiet, distant even, avoiding her in a way that should have been a relief. you didn’t so much as glance in her direction, and when coach called for team strategies or drills, you kept your responses strictly professional, never sparing jackie a single unnecessary word. on the field, you played your own very best and the yellowjackets were on a winning streak.

at first, she appreciated it. you were doing what she’d asked; giving her the space to breathe, to push down the confusing feelings that threatened to overwhelm her every time she thought about the way your lips had felt on hers. the way you felt around her fingers, or sounded like, moaning her name into her ear.

then, jackie started to notice the absence.

you weren’t laughing at shauna’s jokes during warm-ups. you weren’t offering quiet encouragement to the team before a big play. you weren’t you, and jackie hated how much it bothered her.

and now, as she’s watching you take the brunt of foul after foul from one of the opposing players during this match, she realizes just how much it’s been eating away at her.

the atmosphere at nationals is everything they’d hoped for: electric, buzzing with the kind of energy jackie lives for. no match in wiskayok or states could ever compare: the crowd roars, flags waving in a sea of team colors, a sharp contrast to the quieter games back home. it’s is everything you’ve worked for. it’s supposed to be jackie’s moment to shine.

she should be focused, completely dialed in, but her mind keeps slipping.

from the moment the whistle blew, she caught herself sneaking glances in your direction: watching the determined set of your jaw, the way you throw yourself into every play despite the thin layer of tension that still lingers between you two.

jackie forces herself to focus, calling out to shauna as the ball sails across the field. shauna moves into position, linking up with tai to create a well practiced formation. she knows they’re the best team here. she knows they can win this thing easily if she would only focus.

the yellowjackets are good -great, even- but jackie can tell this opposing team is different. they’re aggressive, physical in a way that goes beyond the rules. it’s the only reason they’ve come this far.

she spots it immediately the first time the girl fouls you.

it’s a hard shoulder to the side, not enough to draw the ref’s attention but enough to send you stumbling. you recover quickly, brushing it off like it’s nothing, and jackie tries to shake it off with your same kind of ease. out of all the girl’s on the team, you were always on the rather calm side, never drawing any negative attention on your playing.

but it happens again. and again.

the same girl -tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a number 8 jersey- zeroes in on you like she’s got something to prove. a shove here, an elbow there, and jackie feels the frustration building every time you go down.

by the first half, it’s impossible to ignore. you’re limping slightly now, favoring one leg, but you haven’t said a word about it to anyone. jackie’s jaw tightens as she watches you adjust your shin guard, her fingers itching to grab you and force you to sit out.

“focus up, jackie!” tai yells in passing, snapping her out of her thoughts as the ball rockets toward their side of the field.

thankfully, her captain instincts finally start to kick in. she redirects the team, shouting commands as she positions herself to intercept the play. for a few fleeting moments, she’s back in the game, back in control.

and then it happens.

number 8 takes you down again, this time with a brutal sweep of her leg. you hit the ground hard, and the sharp whistle of the referee barely registers over the sound of jackie’s own heartbeat pounding in her ears. the opposing player doesn’t even have the decency to look sorry. she smirks as she turns away, and something inside jackie snaps.

“that’s it!” she yells, storming across the field before anyone can stop her.

she shoves the girl, hard enough to make her stumble. serves her right. “what the hell is your problem?” jackie demands sharply.

8 stands, shoving jackie right back. the two of them are nose to nose now. “you’ve been playing dirty all game!” jackie growls, her fists clenched. “don’t think i haven’t noticed. stay away from her!“

the ref, who’s been turning a blind eye to all the fouls against you, finally steps in, blowing the whistle. he’s already annoyed with the confrontation, but jackie’s not done yet. the other girl laughs mockingly and then, she goes too far. she shoves jackie again, and this time it’s not just a gentle push. there’s force behind it. jackie’s chest tightens with a surge of adrenaline, and -all at once- she’s done holding back.

before anyone can stop her, jackie swings. It’s quick, instinctive, and lands right on 8’s nose audibly. the crowd gasps. the ref immediately pulls out the red card, the one that signals ejection from the match.

jackie’s chest rises and falls rapidly, her breath sharp and ragged. she doesn’t even seem to notice the red card being held up in front of her, or the shouting of the other players. she’s focused on one thing and one thing only: you.

“you’re done!” ref calls, his voice firm, cutting through the chaos. jackie doesn’t care. instead she’s turning, walking off the pitch with an intensity in her steps that matches her anger. somewhere behind her, shauna is calling her name, but jackie doesn’t stop. she doesn’t even look back, heading straight for the locker rooms.

when she bursts in, you’re sitting on the bench already, trying to ice your visibly swollen ankle.

“jackie…” you start, startled by her sudden presence, but she cuts you off.

“you’re hurt.” her gaze is hard as she stands in front of you, however her hands tremble at her sides. “that player- she-“

“you don’t need to do that,” you say quietly, lowering your eyes. “i can take care of myself just fine”

jackie pauses, her anger slowly deflating as she watches you with a huff. “why didn’t you tell anyone? why didn’t you let them stop her?” she demands. at least her voice is softer now.

you laugh bitterly, shaking your head.”what are you even doing here already?”

jackie lets out a short, breathy laugh, still a little wound up from what happened on the field. she kneels down in front of you, leaning forward to rest her hands on her thighs, trying to catch her breath. “you really think i’d just let that girl get away with it?”

you stare at her, puzzled, eyes wide, the throbbing pain of your ankle momentarily forgotten. “what do you mean?”

jackie rolls her eyes. “i might have punched her...in the face…and i might’ve gotten kicked off the field…but i wasn’t gonna stand by while she kept fouling you like that!”

for a moment, you’re silent. jackie, the jackie you’ve been avoiding ever since…well, since everything happened, just punched another player on your behalf. she can claim that it’s only because you’re one of her teammates all she wants. you know its not just that: last time shauna was fouled by the defense in another match, she hardly batted an eye: she just scored a stunning penalty kick right into the top left corner of their goal, sending the yellowjackets to the quarterfinals of nationals.

this isn’t about her being the captain, with a certain responsibility. this is about you getting hurt.

knowing that makes your heart beat a little faster.

then again, there’s a deeper part of you that’s conflicted. jackie just did something for you that no one else could. she went against everything she’s been trying to keep her distance from. and now, here she is, back in the locker room, having broken her very own rules all over again.

you swallow, trying to keep your emotions in check. “i didn’t know you cared that much”

jackie meets your gaze, her eyes softening a fraction as she looks at you. “of course i care. you think i’d just let some random player get away with hurting you, especially when it’s been happening all game?”

you stupid heart stirs a little more, but you force yourself to try and push the feeling away. you can’t get lost in this. not now. she said it herself: this is nationals.

“well, thanks,” you say softly “you didn’t have to do that”

jackie’s expression falters for a moment, her lips pulling into a slight pout. “i know i didn’t have to” she looks down at her hands, then back at you. “but i couldn’t just stand there and do nothing…”

a beat of silence passes between you. you both avoid verbalizing the unspoken words hanging in the air. what does this mean? jackie’s gesture feels like it should mean something more.

and, still, you see the way her lips part, the way her chest rises and falls. you both linger in that charged moment, close enough to feel the intensity of the air between you. close enough, even , to feel the warmth of her breath on your face.

it’s just a second -an instant, really- but it feels like it lasts forever. you lean in slightly, jackie kneeling on the floor between your legs. all you can see is the way she’d looked at you that night, lingering above you, pleading you to cum for her. that same girl is in front of you now, just inches away, leaning in to kiss you.

jackie pulls back abruptly, breaking the moment with a quick intake of breath.

the anticipation shatters, vanishes to nothing.

“i’ve been thinking…” she clears her throat and looks away shamefully. your heart drops. “maybe we should just…let it go,”

you blink, confusion creeping up on you. “let it go?”

jackie exhales slowly, rubbing the back of her neck as if trying to find the right words. “yeah. let the…whatever the hell happened between us that night just be…whatever it was” her eyes flicker toward you, still avoiding your gaze. “it was a mistake, you know that. and i don’t want it to mess with the rest of the trip. we’re here to play, not to…complicate things!”

you don’t let your disappointment show. you can’t. you’ve been here before. you know the drill. you’re just a teammate. a friend. and she’s someone else’s girl. she’s jackie taylor. golden girl of wiskayok. team captain of the soon to be national soccer team champions. she’s not yours. she’s not even gay, as she so often reminds you.

you aren’t the same. you can’t just pretend that last night didn’t mean something to you. you still feel the heat of her skin on yours, the way she held you, the way it felt like maybe, just maybe, you were something more than what jackie is suggesting right now.

“yeah. i guess you’re right,” you say, your voice an attempt to sound casual, but your heart’s not in it. if jackie knows you half as much as she will sometimes, when it fits her narrative, claims to, she’ll be able to see right through you. and if she does, she doesn’t let it show.

“friends,” she mutters, as though trying to convince herself as much as you. “it’s the best option. teammates, friends…nothing else. we’re good like this, right?”

you nod, the words stuck in your throat. “yeah,” you finally manage to say, though it feels like a lie. “yeah, we’re good”

you’re not sure how long you’re sitting in the silence of the locker room, jackie’s words replaying in your head. friends. nothing else. jackie, sitting a few feet away, picks at the tape on her shin guards, avoiding your gaze. her jaw is tight, her focus resolutely on the task in front of her like it might keep her thoughts from slipping into dangerous territory.

eventually, the muffled sound of cheers erupts from somewhere outside. you blink, drawn out of your haze. it’s distant, like it’s coming from the stands, and for a moment, both of you freeze.

“did they-“ jackie starts. the door bursts open before she can finish the thought. nat rushes in first, her face flushed with excitement. “we’re going to finals!” she shouts. “we won!”

you are on your feet before the words fully register. her grin is radiant, and despite everything, it tugs at something in you. you can’t help but smile back.

“hell yeah!” jackie shouts, throwing her arms up, momentarily forgetting her red card-induced sidelining. nat is already disappearing back down the hallway, cheering as she leaves, leaving the two of you in the wake of her excitement.

jackie turns to you, her grin faltering for a split second before she catches herself. “guess we’re not going home yet,” she says lightly.

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.

the days leading up to the finals are surprisingly… normal. sharing a room with jackie has somehow become easier, the tension between you two settling into something quieter, almost manageable. she’s careful not to cross any lines, and you do your best to pretend that everything is fine. most nights, you fall asleep to the sound of her breathing from the bed beside yours, trying not to think about how much you wish she were closer.

the final game day arrives with a quiet kind of chaos: everyone is jittery, buzzing with a mix of nerves and anticipation. breakfast is loud and hurried, the conversation dominated by what-ifs and strategy talk.

by the time you’re all in the locker room, the energy is electric. the coaches deliver their final pep talks, their words met with nods and murmurs of agreement. jackie’s red card suspension has been lifted, thanks to some technicality that coach martinez fought tooth and nail for, and the relief on her face when she found out was palpable. she’s been in full captain mode ever since, her voice steady and commanding as she rallies the team. it’s the jackie everyone knows, the leader. for a moment, you can almost forget the jackie who whispered your name like a prayer in the dark.

the game itself is brutal.

you’re exhausted by halftime, sweat dripping down your face as you gulp water on the sidelines. jackie, sitting a few feet away, is equally spent but doesn’t show it. she leans forward, her elbows on her knees, her eyes scanning the field.

the second half is even harder: the score remains tied, each team clawing for an edge. jackie is everywhere: pushing past defenders, setting up plays, rallying the team when spirits start to flag.

the clock ticks down, and the tension is unbearable. with less than two minutes to go, jackie gets the ball. she’s at midfield, her path to the goal blocked by only two defenders. for a moment, everything seems to slow down. you can see the determination in her eyes, the way she sets her jaw as she calculates her next move. it’s the same look she’s had at states. right before she scored the winning goal.

then she’s off, cutting through the defense. jackie flakes left, then right, her movements precise. the opponent goalkeeper charges, but she doesn’t falter. instead, she fires the ball toward the net.

it slams right past the girl and into the back of the net.

the final whistle blows. just like that, it’s over. you’ve won.

the others are screaming, hugging, completely overcome with the weight of the victory. you’re champions. national champions.

you stand frozen for a moment, stunned. the chaos swirls around you: van jumping into taissa’s arms, shauna laughing breathlessly, but your gaze cuts right through it, landing on her: jackie is at the center of it all, her face lit up proudly while the other yellowjackets swarm her, pulling her into a mass of celebratory hugs. she’s laughing, elated and beautiful. then her eyes meet yours.

before you can even think, you’re moving, your legs carrying you across the field. jackie breaks away from the group just as you reach her, like she’s been waiting for you all along.

the impact knocks the air out of you when you wrap your arms around her, but you don’t care. her body is warm against yours, still buzzing with the same energy that carried her through the game. you bury your face in her neck, and the scent of sweat, grass, and the faintest trace of her perfume fills your senses. it’s overwhelming. intoxicating in a way that only leaves you clinging to her even harder.

“you did it,” you breathe against her skin. “jackie, you did it!”

when you pull back, your hands linger on her arms, your fingers brushing against her skin. jackie’s eyes are bright, her smile softer now. it’s in that moment, with the roar of the crowd fading into the background and jackie still holding onto you like you’re the only thing keeping her grounded, that you realize it once more:

you’re in love with her, hopelessly so. there’s nothing jackie can say or do that’ll undo what has happened between you. you’ve just won the national championship, and yet the only thing you care about is her. not the victory, not the title, not the way she others pull you in all over again, lifting jackie up over their heads. shauna and tai hoist her onto their shoulders, the team cheering louder as they parade her around like the hero she is. she laughs but even then, as she throws her arms out, her gaze keeps finding yours.

all of it is white noise to you, drowned out by the way your heart aches for her. for jackie, the girl you’ve been in love with all along.

even the plane ride back to wiskayok is still filled with laughter and celebration. the team is crammed into the too-small seats, the aisle filled with chatter, half-shouted stories of the game blending into the hum of the engines. van, a few rows back, holds court with her usual flair, dramatically reenacting jackie’s winning goal. “and then: bam! top corner!” she exclaims, raising her arms like she’s the one scoring the goal all over again.

shauna, seated just ahead of van, rolls her eyes at the performance, but even she can’t fight the small, amused smile tugging at her lips. it’s softer than you’ve seen in weeks, the tension that had been hanging over all of you finally giving way to relief.

jackie sits beside her, her head leaning against the window. she’s been quieter since the game ended, her energy subdued, though she’s smiled for every photo, every cheer, every teammate slinging an arm around her. now, as the plane dips lower, the landscape of new jersey coming into view, she turns to you briefly, her lips curling into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“you okay?” you hear shauna ask, her voice low. jackie’s attention shifts to her and just like that, the moment is over.

“yeah,” she replies, her voice almost drowned out by another round of laughter from van’s direction.

the plane lands with a jolt, and the team gathers their bags and spills out into the terminal.

van is still recapping highlights to anyone who will listen, gesturing wildly as tai nudges her forward. nat lags behind, whereas misty chatters at an exasperated coach martinez, her bag swinging dangerously close to his knee. everyone still seems too giddy to settle down just yet.

that’s when you spot him: jeff is leaning against a pillar near the baggage claim, his letterman jacket slung over one shoulder. there’s an edge of excitement as his eyes lock onto jackie.

your stomach twists as he steps forward, arms open.

you don’t even need to glance at jackie to know what’s coming, yet you can’t stop yourself. your gaze drifts to her, and the shift in her demeanor is immediate:

it’s like a mask slipping into place, a version of jackie you’ve seen a hundred times before but can’t stand to watch now. she meets him halfway, throwing her arms around his neck as jeff pulls her in for a kiss. it’s too much, too public, too perfect. she’s never been this affectionate with you in front of anyone before and now she’s clinging to him like she can’t bear to let go, her laugh too bright, her smile too wide.

you stand frozen, your bag slipping slightly from your shoulder as you watch jackie kiss him again. you try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that it’s all for show. that she’s just playing the part she’s always been told to play. but the way jackie looks at him is enough to shatter whatever fragile hope you’ve been holding onto.

the rest of the team starts to disperse, everyone heading off in their own directions, but you can barely move. jeff drapes his arm around her shoulder as they turn toward the exit, his voice low and teasing as she tilts her head up at him, laughing again, the sound growing fainter as they walk away.

most of the girls are gone by the time you snap out of it. from the corner of your eye, you notice nat still hanging around; she’s leaning against a wall nearby, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder. when your eyes meet, she pushes off of it and walks over.

“need a walk-out?” she asks casually.

you hesitate, then shrug. “sure. why not?”

the two of you walk in silence through the terminal, the automatic doors hissing open as the evening air hits your face. outside, the parking lot is dotted with cars and families, a chaotic mix of reunions and goodbyes. you glance around, half-hoping your parents will already be there so you can get away. no such luck.

nat pulls a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket, tapping one out and holding it between her lips as she flicks her lighter. “you okay?” she asks, breaking the silence. her voice is low, her words unusually measured.

you shrug again, kicking at a loose pebble on the ground. “yeah. why wouldn’t i be?”

nat raises an eyebrow and takes a drag from her cigarette. “because i’m not blind,” she says matter of factly.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

the faintest hint of a smirk tugs at her lips. “just saying…i’ve been paying attention. you and taylor aren’t exactly subtle, you know?”

you face heats up, and you cross your arms, looking away. “we’re just friends,” you mumble, the words -jackie’s words- bitter in your mouth.

nat laughs, shaking her head. “yeah, sure. friends.” she pauses. “look, i’m not gonna give you some big speech or anything, but…i’m sorry. i know it sucks” she flicks the ash from her cigarette, watching the glow of the embers fade in the breeze. “jackie is… jackie,” she continues, her voice quieter now. “she’s always gonna want to be what everyone else needs her to be. you don’t have to do the same”

you blink at her, “what are you saying?”

“i’m saying, let it go. before it messes you up worse than it already has.”

you don’t respond, the words caught in your throat. nat seems to sense it, because she pats your shoulder lightly and steps back. “your parents are here,” she says, nodding toward a car pulling up nearby.

you glance over, and sure enough, your mom is leaning out the driver’s side window, waving you over. when you turn back to nat, she’s already walking away, her bag slung over her shoulder again.

“hey, nat,” you call after her. she stops, glancing back at you with a raised brow. “thanks,” you say, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re thanking her for.

nat nods anyway, a small smile flickering across her face before she turns and disappears.

you sigh, hoisting your bag over your shoulder as you head toward the car.

by the time you get home, the celebration feels like something you imagined instead of lived. your family is thrilled, of course, their pride radiating off them as they shower you with congratulations, asking for every detail about the game and the trophy.

you mumble something about being tired, brushing off their excitement with a weak smile before retreating to your room.

only there, it really hits you.

the frustration, the hurt, the overwhelming ache of wanting something you can’t have. it bubbles up inside you until you can’t hold it in anymore.

you grab your pillow, pressing it to your face, and scream into the fabric. tears burn hot against your cheeks, spilling over as you bury your face deeper into the plush. your shoulders shake with the effort of holding it all in, even though there’s no one around to witness it.

the unfairness of it all claws at you. the way jackie can kiss you like the world starts and ends with you, only to turn around and act like it meant nothing to her. she can smile so effortlessly at jeff, leaning into him like he’s the answer to everything, when you know that he’s not.

you can still feel the ghost of her lips on yours, the touch of her fingers. you still hear her laugh echoing in your ears, but it’s all tainted now, wrapped up in the image of her clinging to him at the airport as if you were never even there.

but the worst part, the part that truly breaks you, is knowing that even if she never chooses you, you’ll never stop waiting for her to.

[happysparklingshadows]

A Certain Hunger (4/?)

Chapter 3 ✿ Chapter 5

Summary: It's been a few weeks in this cabin, and thinking about being saved is getting a little bit bleak. So, you have a good idea for everyone to find a job to make things easier for your time being in Canada. You pick up a fishing rod, and everyone else picks up the gun to see who will become the hunter. You reconnect with a childhood friend and start to accept your new home.

Pairing: Surviving!Poly! Yellowjackets x reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Smut, HOMOSEXUAL SEXXX, Lowkey controversial entirely written sex scene with a character yall wouldn't guess lol, Lowkey mean reader, Depiction of a terminal illness and death of a mother, 90s setting with the views of the time, homophobia and internal homophobia, Homophobic slurs, Alcohol/drug use, gore and blood, depictions of mental health, depictions of death, 90s slang is used (411 means giving the tea or details of a situation to someone).

Word count: 13.4k

Notes: I want to apologize for my hiatus, but it was for good reason. I needed to care for my father, who got very sick around September last year when I was going to write the 4th chapter, and he has since been better. Sadly, I lost my motivation, but I have detailed notes for the following 8 chapters, and I will be trying to finish seasons 1 and two of the story as soon as I can before the third season airs! This year, for NANOWRIMO, I have decided to write for this story and see how far I can go within the next month or two. Thank you to everyone who was so kind and understanding about my disappearance and still loves my story!

“(Y/n), what the fuck is a ratio?” Jackie whispers to you loud enough for Shauna to hear beside you in a lull in math class. Mrs. Goldberg had to leave the class for some reason, you don’t remember why. You smile over at Jackie with her lovely brown eyes and take a good look at her. She’s as beautiful as you remember.  

You chuckle as you look into your notes and say, “From what Mrs. Goldmen wrote, an ordered pair of numbers a and b, written a / b where b does not equal 0.” You read from your notes as Shauna and Jackie looked blankly up at you from the obtuse definition. You laugh with them, “Whatever the fuck that means!” 

Jackie and Shauna laugh with you, but Jackie groans in frustration at the last question. 

Taissa, behind you, leans forward and smiles, “What’s wrong?” 

Jackie turns dramatically to Taissa as she pulls her paper over to Taissa; she just wants the answer now. You look at Jackie moving around as Van pulls your attention with a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, (y/n), can you help me with the first question? Jackie stole my answer key.” She joked as you turned to help her. 

You giggle at her joke as you look down at the paper. 

It was blank. 

There weren’t even questions printed onto the page like you thought. You looked at your paper again, flipping it around but finding that it had nothing written on it either. It didn’t have the answers you thought you were writing on it.

You furrow your brows as you look up to Van, but the redhead isn’t there. Neither were the others. A chill runs down your spine as you start to remember. 

The door of your old math teacher's class slams open, causing you to squeal and jump from your desk. That then was the only desk in the room. It was as if when your eyes looked away from something, it disappeared. 

Mrs. Goldmen looks at you with a sad, sympathetic smile as she leads you to the hallway; you don’t have any control at the moment as your legs walk you down the hallway with her. Mrs. Goldmen's hand is on your shoulder as she says words that have been etched into the gray matter of your brain. “Honey, your mother has gone to the hospital, and your father is here to pick you up.” 

You remember this. This was the day your mother’s health got so much worse. The day you became her caretaker. 

Fat tears run down your eyes as you walk to the office door. Mrs. Goldman disappears when her hand leaves your shoulder. You look around for her; the hallways of your old high school are empty, and liminal darkness creeps in the corners of the walls. You felt an urge to go into the office. 

You held the cold handle and turned the knob to the left to open the office door. 

It wasn’t right. 

You are met with the darkness of the woods, which has claimed you as its own. You turn, and the hallways no longer protect you from the cold forest. You scream as you are surrounded by woods again; the door stands alone with its hinges.  

 You feel the ripe cold air coming up your legs and arms; you hug yourself. 

Howls from the trees start to chant above you. Every corner was a howl from a freakish, unnatural octave, and you started to feel the snow melt under your toes and the nip of the winter bite at the skin of your arms. Unbearable and cutting is how it felt—hunger in the air. 

You look down at yourself and see something that drops your heart. 

The gold heart necklace from Jackie’s Sweet 16. 

You don’t think before you run. You run straight and away from trees as the howls follow you. Helpless as sticks and bushes stopped you as you rushed through the 4ft of snow. 

You sob and run, knowing you are coming to an end. You are going to die. You should just stay still and watch with open eyes as they slice your throat, shoot you with an arrow, or stab you with a spear. So why would you run? 

But you ran anyway. 

Raw, cold toes feel the crunching of the snow. Twigs tickle between your toes and scratch when you lift your feet. 

You don’t hear anything anymore. You are in the heart of the woods; the tree watches you as you finally fall onto a mound of snow. Nothing makes any sense. You cry and feel yourself shake with adrenaline; you need to keep going. 

A chanting comes to your ears. You freeze in the moment; you hear yourself. 

You crawl towards the song, French humming and chanting from a distance. 

Over the hill, you see yourself dressed in your old headdress, the pink stain furs of a white rabbit made into a cloak with the head of a doe adorn on the top. You circle the campfire that cooks the meat; the others dressed in their cloaks watch with stabbing eyes. 

The queen in the center watches a younger you dance around the fire. The Antler queen nods her head and looks around the circle. 

You watch yourself take a satisfying bite of the fatty meat from the pan that cooked the chunks. The others immediately rush to the pan and take their share of the meat. The grease shines on your satisfied smirk on the younger self, bubbling in your stomach. “Wake up, " you blurt out to yourself in a panic. 

You gag as your eyes fill with tears. 

No. 

No. You don’t want to remember this. 

This wasn’t even the worst of it. 

Stop. 

Wake up (y/n) wake up wake up wake up wake up-

‘21

You wake up violently from your dream. You feel yourself lean harder onto the surface you were on and feel a darting pain from a rod in your neck. You gasp as you look around, realizing you weren’t in your house again. 

The tree whispers to you again. You know it. 

You stand in the wooded area behind your home. It was always comforting to hide in the trees and smell the sun's sweet earth, playing pirates or whispering about boys you never liked with Shauna and Jackie. This was your hideout as a child. You played fox and hounds and painted nails as you watched the sunset. You hate it now. It screams at you, and it itches your skin to be surrounded again; you need a little distance. Your breath is short again. 

Your hands cling to the tree behind you, and you feel something in your hand: your pocket knife. You turn around to look at what you have done again. You stare back at the symbol. Even when you dream, you seem to find a way to protect yourself, even a little bit. 

You put the knife in your nightgown pocket. And you backed away. Slowly accepting the fact that this is something you will never stop doing, no matter the pills, sleep therapy, or drinking, can make you stop sleepwalking to the trees when you think about them. It follows closely behind, no matter the distance. 

Fucking Shauna. 

When you went to her house last night, you weren’t planning on sleeping with her.

You were sitting at her island drinking coffee like you usually do. Ever since you returned from New York to Wiskayok, you reconnected with Shauna because of the brunches with Jackie's parents. You have been coming over for coffee to talk about your lives like regular people. It was refreshing to look at Shauna and see an adult woman instead of the girl you grew up with and survived with. Not seeing Shauna was especially hard after coming home from the wilderness because you were the closest to her before the crash, even before you knew who you were. You still don’t know who you are without her in some ways. 

You both talk about the upcoming brunch, how you'll get a rabbit as a present, and how Jackie’s parents will talk down to you like they always do. But as the conversation continues, Shauna confesses that she and Jeff are in a deep dry spell. They haven’t touched each other in a long time, and how Shauna has not been touched in a long time. Then, without even thinking about it, you two start kissing each other. 

Then, something instinctually comes over you as you kiss and touch each other. The planned 40-minute coffee became hours of love-making.

But as soon as the passion ended, you left. You felt satisfied and a little weird from your desperation with Shauna. You get dressed, kiss them goodbye, and return to your lives like it never happened, like it has always worked. You remember feeling so grateful Callie was sleeping over at her friend's house and Jeff was out of the house for the night for some reason. 

When you drove home, all you thought about was your day with Misty and Natalie, Travis killing himself, and making love with Shauna. It was a blast from the past. As you entered your driveway, an intrusive thought came to mind: the image of a pan over an open fire frying chunks of meat.

You shouldn’t have gone to bed thinking about the past. This only happens when the team creeps into your space; they always do that if you give them a chance. 

You thought grumpily as you walked back to your backdoor. Your cat, Ginger, rubs on your legs when you get into your backyard. Your nightgown has mud at the ends, and your feet are dirty; your toenails have dirt under them. 

A black van passes by as you walk into your home. It hisses in the wind as it drives by. You look at it, worried someone will see the dirt on your nightgown and think you are some senile old woman. 

You get back into your home and sigh. Rubbing the ache in the back of your neck, you start a pot of coffee for yourself before you start your day. You needed a moment for yourself before you had to act all day, masking all your quirks and characteristics to seem normal. 

“You don’t think people can notice you’re a little crazy, right?” 

You froze as you put your cup of coffee on the counter. You know that voice. 

“I mean, I love you for how crazy you are, but you have been losing it a lot lately.” Jackie’s voice says behind you. She always stands in her yellowjacket uniform with curled hair; she looks precisely how she should be remembered. “Don’t want you to bite someone on accident.”

“I’ll try not to, Jackie. But you never know; someone might not know not to put their hand so close to my mouth.” You say back at her. You feel your eyes well; she was always so sad to remember even more when you see her. Her phantom has been long accepted and dreaded, but something that no one could stop. You didn’t know if you even would want her spirit to leave you. 

“Well, you should comb your hair and take a bath. You look like death… smell like it too,” Jackie says, and as if she was never there, she was gone. 

You sigh and rub your eyes. You turn back for your coffee and pour sugar inside of it, “It’s too early for this shit.” You mutter to yourself. You can’t get angry at this. It’s your best hallucination, and you couldn’t get mad with Jackie, never with her. You got to leave, but Jackie never got to the chance to live out of the cedar and butterfly weeds. 

‘96

“Lottie, I know it is… fucking weird as shit. But we can’t pass up a house in the woods, okay? I didn’t see any books wrapped in human skin.” You say softly to Lottie as everyone finishes their breakfast of berries and gossip. You rub the stinging at the back of your neck that can’t go away. 

“I know, but it just doesn’t feel right being in the same house as a dead body,” Lottie says back. 

“Well, maybe we can make something for the house to ease, you know, the energies.” 

“Like charms?” 

“Maybe? I have never dealt with this situation, but I trust you can settle the energies here. You are so good at being a peacekeeper.” You say to her and put your hand on her shoulder; you take it off quickly because you still don’t know where you stand with her after last night's kiss. Because you know if the others were to look at you and check if you were gay, you would be quickly exposed. 

“Thank you, (Y/n)...” She says, looking down at her shoes.”Are we okay? I didn’t mean to make things weird. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

You smile, hiding the hurt, and quickly say, “Oh, my god, yeah, we are, Lottie. I get it. We have been through a lot, and we just wanted some comfort. It’s not a big deal.” 

Lottie chuckles out of relief and pats your arm; she nods. “Okay, good; I didn’t want anything to be weird.” 

“No, nothing is weird, Lottie.” You reassure her as you move yourself away. You want to peel your skin off, and a sudden loneliness surrounds you. 

The morning moves on quickly. Travis sits on the porch with a gun, and you just stare at him as you walk to the campfire in front of the cabin with the angler's box and pole. 

“Okay, everyone! We need to talk plans!” You announce in your loudest voice. Everyone circles the fire and the porch to listen to you; every morning since the crash, you have made an effort to set goals for the day and get through the days until rescue. “Okay, so we’ve been in these woods for ten days. We are low on food but shouldn’t worry too much longer. We now have a fishing line and a working pole with the help of Lottie and Shauna,” You say as you smile at the two. The others do the same, giving little thanks to the two blushing girls. “So, we’re not hopeless right now; anyone who wants to learn how to fish can come with me and see if you want to do that. But does anyone know how to use the rifle?” You ask the group and consider your list of things to speak about today. 

Couch Ben clears his throat and says, “I went hunting with family before, so I can teach people who want to.” 

You nod your head at him and say, “Okay! Everyone should try it out to see who is the best with a gun. We’ve been out here for a little bit, and I am sure we will have to take care of ourselves until they get here-”

Jackie interrupts, “So, we shouldn’t worry about the food because they must be close by now?” 

You look over at her; you know why she is talking. She doesn’t want a job, and she doesn’t want to worry about getting saved. But it has been 11 days since the crash; you don’t want to kill hope. 

“Well, kind of. We should be prepared if it takes them a few more weeks to find us in these woods. Jackie, we’re in the thick of it right now, so it would be better if we all tried to use the gun and see if we can hunt-” 

“Well, are you going to try out the gun?” She asked you with crossed arms and a well-known tone of annoyance. 

You suck your teeth and tilt your head to her, “No, I am going out fishing. I know I am good at it, so I will do that. You can try to see if you are good at hunting. It’s just a tryout.” To end this small conversation, you say, “Okay, so the goal for today is to find some food and learn some skills tonight. Mari, Laura, and Krystal have already volunteered to clean and do the projects we have started at the cabin, alright? Anything else?”. 

No one else had anything to say. You nod as you hold up the fisher pole and say, “I am going to the beach to fish and make a little project. if anyone wants to come with me, you will find me.” You say this as you see that no one will move to fish with you for some reason. You nod and start heading out of the campsite and walking down Natalie's trail to the lake. A few nights ago, Natalie took the time to crave a path to the beach and plane with small crosses on the trees. She wanted everyone to be able to tell where they were in the woods without getting lost.

The days have gone by quickly lately since you all have found the cabin, and it's been getting to you a little bit. You didn't like the feeling of being able to find your way around the woods, even though it was convenient. It still would never replace your home. You missed home, and you can't tell anyone else about it. 

As you walk down the trail deep in thought, the sun hits your eyes through the leaves, it reminds you of your backyard. It’s precisely like where your tree house stands just outside your home, where you can look out the window and see your mother washing dishes. God, you missed your mom. And as of an hour ago, she should have taken her morning medicine and had her legs messaged because she can’t walk around too much. You feel your throat tighten, and your body has a wave of emotional nausea. 

“Hey, Wait up!” Shauna called from behind you on the trail. 

You stop and smile at her, “Hey, Shauna. You coming with me?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to touch the gun. I don’t want to kill anything.” 

“I get it. I hate fish, so I like killing them.” You joke to her with the best deadpan voice you can muster. 

Shauna chuckles and shakes her head softly, “You’re a freak, you know that?” 

“Oh yeah? You’re not going to say that when I get a fish.” You cackled. “You can just journal if you want; I am just going to make you help me make a lazy fisherman.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a heavy stick supported with rocks with a hook and line attached. It just catches fish without anyone doing anything. You just raise the line, and hopefully, a fish is hooked.” 

“We have hooks? What was in that box?” 

“Not a lot, but it had a bait hook and a lure for the pole. It had some rusty hooks and oil for the pole. I made some hooks from the pop things on top of the cans.” 

“The tab?”

“Yeah, I kinda cut them and made them like hooks. I’m thinking about making a net while we’re here.” 

“You think we’ll be here long enough for that?” 

“I don’t know; all I know is I will go crazy if I sit still too much. I overthink, you know.” You confess to Shauna as you come across a wide river a little off the trail from the lake. You and Shauna make some marks on the trees to make a path back to the trail. 

After a while, the two of you settle up after making a lazy fisherman. It was easy to be around Shauna. You’ve been sandbox friends, and that kind of love never dies. You mainly talked about school and the annoying people you knew, like Randy. The biggest meathead you’ve ever met. 

“Randy smells like Salmi and is cold to the touch but also is very hot when you stand near him.” You say to Shauna as you cast a line with a little bug at the end. You sit on the river's edge with Shauna sitting against a tree. 

Shauna laughs out loud as she hugs her journal to her chest. And you keep going on your rant. 

“Honestly, girl, If I ever hear him say the words Faggot or Dyke again, to Misty or Kevin or whoever. I’ll write a story about him eating Jeff’s ass and finally getting to feel Jeff’s sweet touch. Because you can’t tell me he isn’t in love with that guy.” You say with a laugh in your tone as you can’t talk straight. It’s ridiculous, but it was so funny to both of you. Shauna is snorting like a pig next to you, making you fall on your back, laughing. 

“What the fuck?!” 

“He thinks about gay people too much to not be gay!” You laugh louder. Both of you laugh until your sides hurt. It felt nice just to be girls for a moment in the woods, and you pretend you were at the back of your house with Shauna. 

It lulls for a moment before Shauna asks, “Randy called Misty a dyke?” 

“Yeah. At the Spring Fling.” You said with a little bit of sadness going through. You felt so bad for Misty in moments like that. “I remember when me, you, and Jackie got there after getting ready seeing Misty-”

“In that big puffy pink dress,” Shauna says, pointing a finger at you. She remembers, and she smirks a little. At the time, unfortunately, you laughed at her dress for being out of date and seemed to be “trying too hard.” 

“Yeah… But Misty was just there and- I mean, I am not going to say Misty is cool or that she isn’t weird. Sometimes, I don’t know if she isn’t an alien, but she isn’t mean or disgusting.” You say as you gently rile in the line. You feel yourself frown a little bit. “She was standing in the corner without a date and any friends, and Randy just comes up to her and calls her an ugly dyke.” You say a little quieter. 

“Oh my god, that is so horrible; why didn’t you tell me the 411?” 

“I mean, I only knew because she cried when I went into the bathroom. I was a shoulder to cry on; I didn’t want to make it a thing if Misty didn’t want to. I wish I could have done something. Fuck Randy.” 

“Fuck Randy!” Shauna agreed. Shauna looks at you fish peacefully as the sound of gunshots rings in the distance. You look over to her and think about the next thing to discuss. 

“So, Jackie is mad at me, isn’t she? Jackie learning how to shoot a gun?” You ask her, point her to talk to you about Jackie. You love Jackie deeply, but she usually causes drama within the trio. 

“Yeah, she is being a bitch lately.” 

“Yeah, I think she has the worst attitude out of everyone, but I can’t be upset that she is trying to come to terms with the crash.” 

“Okay, but she doesn’t have to fight everything you ask her to do. You’re just trying to help everyone.” 

“Thank you. And yeah, I hope she will stop fighting me every step of the way, but we just don’t know how long we’ll be out here, so I just don’t think we should be so argumentative…” You sigh and look at her with wary eyes, “I’ll talk to her. Like I always do. It’ll be okay. We love each other. No fucking gun will get in the way.” 

“You’re right. It’ll be okay. We must be here for each other before we’re rescued.” 

“You're right.” You say as you keep watching your line in the water. Praying for a fish to take a bite

‘21

You smile as your father laughs at the TV. You rub your hands to apply lotion to his shaking ones. You and he were watching “I Love Lucy” because it was his favorite childhood show. 

He doesn’t have fully solid days constantly anymore, and it's the reason you have him in the nursing home. Somedays, he was just like you when you returned from the wilderness. He wouldn’t eat or do anything but watch TV. He would sit in his chair and watch TV; when it was off, he didn’t know where he was anymore. One day, he forgot where the bathroom was in the home he had lived in for 45 years, and he wet himself before you found him in the living room looking in the china cabinet, thinking it was the bathroom. But other days, he was as sharp as nails, playing chess and talking about things from the 70s like it was yesterday. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and early-set dementia, but you were calm. You were now an adult with savings and a career, and you had the means to care for him now. To repay him for him nursing you after you came back. 

You remember the nights he would pet your hair back after you vomited from episodes of PTSD. How he would sit in your bedroom holding you in his lap with tears in his eyes, listening to you scream in his chest. He just sat there with you and let you sob; no words were needed. He just stood there and let you cling like a little girl again. He let you yell at him and berate him as if he were the wilderness himself because he knew you weren’t yelling at him. He knew when to push you forward and when you needed to be held. 

He helped you through the 5 years of healing after you were found. You had a total of 3 surgeries to make your brain's blood vessels normal again. You had to wear a splint on your neck for 1 year. You had to have countless MRIs throughout your life. Countless painful nights as your neck stabbed at you and caused you to feel no comfort. Your dad was always there with you, sitting beside you at every doctor's appointment and every event. He would only sit outside the waiting room for your therapy sessions. 

Your father looks at you with (e/c) eyes and a soft smile, “I’m so happy to see you, peanut.  How is your job?”

“Well, I'm still stuck around the last few chapters of my trilogy, Trying to fight my publisher for more time," you say as you let his shaking hand down and go to his other to lotion them. They were callous and dry. Your father's hard work was shown in his battered hands, which shivered. “You took a shower already?”

“Yeah, I wanted to look nice for you.” He rasps with a chuckle, his wrinkled face still holding his cheeky smile. He had the same soul as he always had, and moments like these make you think of happy memories of being in the woods with him and your mom. 

“Oh, thank you, dad! I was going to say it didn’t smell like a caveman in here.” You chuckle back with him as you finish rubbing the lotion on his other hand. 

“Oh, hush, you!” He slowly pokes your side and cheek, holding a smile. 

“No.” You giggle back at him as you stand up, your hands moving to comb his hair. “Have the nurses been kind to you?”

“Sweethearts. Kirsta, the night shift nurse, is very kind. She comes in here when I sleep and never has a bad attitude.” He said as he leisurely scratches his nose, “Don’t hate the food.” 

“Well, that's good, Dad.” You say as you look down at him. He looked clean and comfortable in his recliner. “I should get going. I need to get a few words down before I go to bed.” 

“Alright, Peanut.” He says and takes you in. He grabs your hand gingerly and says, “I love you. Be safe. Text me when you get home.” 

You chuckle and nod your head. You find it adorable that your father still wants you to tell him whenever you leave him. Even when you lived with him at your grown age, he wanted to know you were safe. “Of course, Dad! Don’t worry.” 

“You better, " he says as he points at you with a shaking finger. He was so cute to you at that moment. You just laugh and nod your head to him. “I will!” you state back with a big smile.

You leave his room and start walking down the hallway of the nursing home. Walking down the halls, you can hear the other residents talking and watching TV.

You hear a ping on your phone and see Shauna texting you again. You sigh as you click on the notification. 

Shauna  Okay so I did something bad.  You  Like what? Did you rear-end someone again? Shauna  No  Shauna Dinner You Omg you went to the dinner? What happened? Shauna Jeff is cheating  Shauna Jeff is cheating on me, and he isn’t trying to fix some fucking data system. I am just so done. Shauna So I went to dinner.  Shauna  And I stayed for dessert.  You  Omg you didn’t Shauna Yep, and I am going to see him again tonight. You  Shit Shauna!  You I mean, get your lick back but don’t go too far. 

As you approached the front of the nursing home, which had a large circle desk for the nurses, you turned on the curve and accidentally tripped over another woman. 

You look at the woman with a smile, which drops for a second because you know her. It was Misty. You didn’t realize she worked here, where your father is, but you quickly perk your lips up again.

“Oh my god, Misty!” 

“(Y/n)! What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, well. My dad has been here for a while, and I am here to visit! I didn’t know we were going to meet again so soon.” 

“I was picking up my Tupperware, which I left yesterday.” She shows you her red-top Tupperware in her oversized purse. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to have Chocolate Martinis at Antonio’s; they are outstanding.” 

You didn’t want to. You have been seeing the team too much again, and you had sex with Shauna last night. You become increasingly like how you used to be when you get around these women. 

“Sure! You wanna pick me up from my house?” You blurt without a second to stop yourself. You wanted to kick yourself, but you couldn’t stop it. 

“Great!” Misty beams with a big smile as you both leave the nursing home. “I’ll tell you about the Travis situation, " she adds as she walks beside you. 

‘96

You and Shauna sat beside the riverbank for a long time, talking about everything and nothing. It didn’t feel like you were doing anything as you and she gossiped about the others in the wilderness. It was relaxing and pleasing. You kept looking down to your now two fishing lines for any signs of fish. The sounds of gunfire going off in the distance, in an odd way, were comforting because you knew where everyone else was while being far away. 

While waiting for the fish, you started talking about school and dances- anything to keep your mind busy. 

“So, after my mom curled my hair and did my makeup, she left me to get my dress on. You remember the one purple one with the ruffles.” 

“Sophmore year homecoming, right?” Shauna asks as she points to you, trying to remember. 

“Yeah, that one. I don’t know if I have ever told you, but the zipper popped open when I put on the dress.” You said with a smile hurting your cheeks as you laughed loudly from your gut at your story. It used to make you cry thinking about that time, but now it is funny. Shauna bubbled in laughter beside you as you continued, “She was yelling at me, crying and sobbing, that I was going to that dance whether I liked it or not. She just started sewing me into the dress.” 

“No fucking way your mom sewed you into a dress!” Shauna laughed with you as she grabbed your arm. Her eyes water with tears as she laughs with you. 

“No, she did! It was the last time I ever got anything from Macy’s.” You giggle as you glance back to the fishing line one more time. 

Shauna began to chuckle softly, her eyes crinkling slightly as she listened to your story. It made her miss everyday life before the crash. "God, homecoming. I wish we were back there instead of this," Shauna motioned to the wilderness around us with a sigh.

"Yeah, same. I would much rather be crying about being fat over this any day." You sign as you lean on Shauna’s shoulder. You try to keep the good vibes that were made, so you smile and nudge her, "But, hey, we have each other, and people are looking for us. They have to be."

Shauna smiled softly as you moved closer to her. She smiled at you, but inside, she wasn't sure if she believed you'd be found. But she didn't want to worry you. "Yeah, of course. Maybe we're already on the news," she added, attempting to sound optimistic.

"Oh yeah, I don't know how people haven't heard about us,” You said quickly after she finished because you believed you were headline news. “ All our families must be doing everything to find us, and they would have known as soon as the plane didn't land." You added a lump in your throat growing as you said families. You thought about your family's reaction and everyone’s family’s reaction to them being missing. You couldn't imagine the fear and worry they must be experiencing, not knowing where you all were. But you tried hard to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, needing to remain strong.

"I'm sure they're out there looking for us. They'll find us," she said, mostly trying to persuade herself and you. 

"They will, and all we have to do is wait until they do." You nudge her again and smile, saying, “Besides, we have good company.”

As you move your head back, you see the lure dramatically dunking into the water. You quickly grab your pole and start to reel in the fish. As ywou start to move, you can feel how heavy the fish is on the other end. 

“Whoa, oh my god, did you catch a fish?” Shauna asks in excitement as she sits up on her knees beside you and looks at the water. 

“Trying to!” You say back as you keep reeling in the fish. 

Suddenly, after struggling with the reel a little bit, you pull up two fish on one hook. You squeal in happiness as you quickly grab the two fish with pride. Shauna squeals with you as you hold the two big fish. 

You and Shauna hug each other happily as you hold the pole up, “Holy shit! Holy shit Shauna!” 

“They are fucking huge!” Shauna gushed as she grabbed one of the fish and immediately cringed at the feeling of the fish’s slimy-scaled skin. “Gross” 

“I know, right? Come on, let's get this back to the cabin before we get some more,” you say with a big smile. You feel relieved. You all will eat tonight and be full tonight. Your dad would be very proud of you. 

You walk back to the cabin in triumph as you laugh and talk with Shauna all the way up the trail. Before too long, you arrive at the cabin, and everyone starts to finish off firing the gun. 

Van's face brightens like a light bulb as she sees you two walk to the cabin with dinner: “Whoa! Look at you!” 

Everyone’s attention turns to you, and they cheer for you both on for the find. 

“You got a fish!” Jackie squealed as she sat up from her seat on the cabin steps. Mari came over and grabbed the fish with a big smile, holding the fish from the mouth with her finger. “No, they caught two fish!” Mari said back, she looked into its lifeless eye. 

“I didn’t do anything.” Shauna chuckled as you shook your head, wanting to share the praise with her. 

You roll your eyes and look back to Mari. You notice behind Mari that Natalie is looking at you with a serious face that you can’t place in your mind. You couldn’t tell if Natalie was angry, happy, or disgusted by the fish. 

“Yeah, the pole still works, thank god.” You chuckle as you put the pole on the wood seat you all have made around the fireplace. You add, “I think it’s a good sign we got two fish. Maybe it’s the woods telling us we’ll be okay until we’re found.” 

You look up to the group, and your eyes meet Lottie’s as if you were saying, “See, told you so” with your eyes. She warily smiles at you and looks down as you silently converse with just the context from earlier. 

“You are you trying to sound like Miss Cleo? Wanna read my future?” Jackie jokes and snickers at your comments, dismissing them as stupid. You chuckle and shake your head, “No, Jackie, I’m being hopeful! I can overread a thing or two.” You say as you push her shoulder; she looks at you and chuckles. 

You and Mari let the fish rest on the cabin table before you descaled them for dinner tonight. There was more than enough for everyone to eat, and it made you feel so proud to be able to provide dinner for everyone. And because you were going to wait anyway, you both put a bowl on top of the fish to keep it fresh until you return from everyone testing out shooting on cans. 

You didn’t care much for the gun or the loud noise of it going off, it unsettled you deeply. It made you feel uncomfortable and cringe at the ringing in your ears. 

Lottie and Van placed the old cans on a log infront of the group, quickly retreating into the brush of the woods. With your arms crossed, you lean against a tree, waiting for everyone to finish practicing there. 

“Team, this is how this will go down—one final round for all the marbles. You got five targets, five shots each. Mari, can you start us off?’ 

“Um, just a thought. Shouldn’t we be saving bullets, you know?” Laura Lee added with concern in her voice. 

“Uh, yeah, in theory, but lucky for us, the nutjob who lived here before was apparently hoarding for the apocalypse.” Couch Ben reassured as best he could. You could tell he didn’t want to be here, but he was putting up as much of a front as he could.

Mari fires a shot at the cans. You quickly cover your ears as you cringe at the boom. She missed the can, and you recoil before she goes again. 

“The cans,” Travis mocks as he looks at her with narrowed, judgemental eyes. You couldn’t stand him in any way lately. His mere voice made you wish it was a gunshot. “You’re-You’re aiming for the cans.” 

“Shut up,” Mari snapped at him as she cocks the gun, still holding it to the cans. 

“Do you like being this way?” Natalie says to Travis, her eyes slowly rolling to him in annoyance. Waiting for the gunshot, you haven’t moved your hands from your ears. 

“If you shit the bed again, you gonna ask for another do-over?” 

Natalie shakes her head at him quietly as you glare at him. You just want him to shut up with his edgy and macho persona so everyone can get on with this stupid practice. You added, “You don’t ask for a do-over, you just clean your fucking bed, we are shooting cans, idiot.” 

Your hands aren’t as firmly over your ears as Mari fires again. You flinch again as you cover them. Your eyes locked in a broad expression as you looked at the cans; the startling way the sound ripped through you, made you freeze like a deer in the woods, hoping the bullet wasn’t for them. 

And she fires again quickly, this time hitting a can. You smile and nod at her, keeping your hands over your ears. You now see the eyes on you as you react to the sounds. You feel a blush over your body as embarrassment comes over you, but you can’t bring yourself to pull your hands down. “Hey. All right.” Couch Ben says calmly but clearly happy she finally hit a can. “Good job, Mari.”  Everyone slowly claps for her. She smiles, and as she walks back to Akilah, she thrusts the Gun into Travis’s hands. 

Travis immediately starts preparing to shoot at the cans, and he hits four cans until he misses his first. 

“So close, flex.” Natalie teased him from behind. You looked at her with a snicker at her comment. 

Suddenly, Travis turns around with the gun ready in his hand, and he aims it at Natalie’s face. “Don’t fucking call me that!”

“Whoa!” You gasp as you step closer to Natalie out of instinct to protect your friend, your eyes as wide as saucers. 

“Travis! Put the gun down.” Couch Ben shouts demands at him, His eyes wide with panic because he can’t stand and take it away from him. 

You don’t even think as you yell, “Put the fucking gun down, Travis! What the fuck are you doing?” 

He then turns around and shoots at the cans after an intense silence. You cringe again at the sound of his gun. 

“All right, that’s, uh-yeah, that’s good shooting, Martinez. Don’t ever do that again.” Couch Ben says awkwardly as everyone quietly watches on with tension in their shoulders. You felt yourself seething with anger bubbling in your stomach. 

“Don’t choke. Again.” He says to Natalie with an antagonistic glare. 

He then backs away and stands near you. You look at him with disgust as you spit at his feet, “Stand away from me, asshole.” You hiss at him.

He looks at you in surprise that you are still so angry at him that you just keep your mean mug on him, and he steps away. He was surprised at your sudden outburst, as did everyone behind you because you were known for being overly friendly, but you ensured he knew not to be near you. 

You look at Natalie and nod, “You got this, girl.” you say. You cover your ears quickly before she does anything else.

Natalie looks at Travis with the same intensity as you and takes a smooth, deep breath. She then puts the gun to her shoulder and hits each can without hesitation. One by One, they drop to the forest floor. She then smiles slowly as she finishes. Everyone cheers and applauds her for showing Travis up.

You snicker as you look at her. Natalie moves her head towards you first. Meeting your eyes with happy eyes and a big smile, she looks at you quickly over and looks away to the other. You blush quickly, trying not to overthink about her looking for your approval first and your praise, and you don’t think much about her looking you over. She sure wasn’t checking you out. 

After the gun practice, everyone searched for berries and mushrooms in the woods. Travis left to the cabin with his tail tucked between his legs after you kept telling him to go away. He left after you said that you don’t trust him and no one should because he acts like a brat. He looked hurt and looked around at the other girls with eyes that screamed he regretted what he did with the gun, but no one had his back. He just stepped back, and you shook your head as you turned to the others. 

“Are any of these, like, Maple syrup trees?” Laura Lee asks as she looks up at the tall sycamore tree.

“What?” Tai questions as she walks behind her, towards the clearing a few feet away. 

“I don’t know,” Laura Lee mumbled as she walked away. She softly touched your shoulder as she walked by, needing you to stabilize her from the trail's incline. 

You found some chestnuts on the ground. They were fresh and not ready yet, and you put them in your pocket as you heard Akilah smack Misty’s hand. 

“Don’t eat that kind,” Akilah panicked as she pushed the mushroom in Misty’s hand on the forest floor. “It’s poisonous.” 

Misty looks at her with big eyes and a little shaky hands. 

Van says, sarcastically, “Like “Kill you” poisonous, or like, “trip your balls off” poisonous?”

“What? I don’t know. My Girl Scout leader didn’t get all that specific about it.” 

” (y/n)?” Taissa asks as she kneels to the ground with Mari.

You look over to Taissa, looking at tiny button-like mushrooms that grow from decaying animals. 

“Don’t eat that one either. That's a dead mushroom. It is too new to eat if we could eat it. It would be like eating rotting meat. Don’t even touch.” You say as you look for more nuts on the forest ground. “Try to look for nuts. They are on the ground. If it has a hole, just drop it for the animals.” 

“Well, could you just show us something edible so we can get going?” Misty asks kindly, impatiently—this is the first time you have heard her sound like that. 

Taissa looks behind her to Misty, rising to stand over her, “What’s the big furry?” 

“Coach needs a sponge bath?” Van teases Misty with a smirk, and you feel one grow on your lips at the joke, too. Everyone pauses to look at Misty, animals looking down at the runt. As a snicker comes to their lips, Taissa fully laughs, covering her mouth. 

“That’s-That’s so mean.” Taissa laughs as she looks to the ground. Everyone softly holds their laughs as Misty storms off. Van laughs as Misty rushes past and giggles out, “I’m sorry. Whatever.” 

Van puts her arm around Taissa’s shoulders, and you look at them. Jealousy courses through you. Why couldn’t you have someone like they do? 

“Get off me!” Taissa patted Van’s arm away. In response, Van smears a smash berry she hid on her finger on Taissa’s face. “Did you put a berry on me?”

“I did.” Van said, taking her arm off her, and moved herself towards you. 

“Okay, so, everyone, we just need to focus. We know we can’t touch those and those ones.” Taissa spoke to the group, trying to lead them back on track,

“No mushrooms, No mushrooms.” Van says as she starts to look up the trees for the chestnuts. 

“Uh, Guys…” Jackie called out from a few yards away. You all moved quickly to her voice out of concern that she had encountered a wild animal in the woods.

 “Jackie? “What is it?” you called back as you rushed to her. 

“Guys, come here!” Jackie laughed.

“Look! Holy Shit!” Jackie exclaimed. You come over some trees and bushes to see Jackie slapping the door of a small personal plane that has vines and moss growing on it. The woods themselves are almost swallowing it, as it has had overgrowth for at least a decade, only covering and trapping it in place.

“W-what is this doing here?” Van asks in disbelief. 

“It must have been the dead guy’s.” Jackie says as she looks at the wheels being stuck in the mud. 

Laura Lee quickly finds the door and opens it, “I wonder if It still works?” Laura Lee questioned to no one in particular. 

Van gently spins the propeller, “Holy fuck!” 

Laura Lee is inside the plane, messing around loudly. You don’t want to get near that thing. You never want to be near a plane again. You stand away as you watch them touch the plane in excitement, everyone else coming closer to the plane.

Suddenly, as your anxieties manifested themselves to life, the plane started from Van’s spinning the propeller and Laura Lee messing around inside. The engine started with a startling rattle as it crept forward. 

“Holy shit.” Van says as she steps back in shock. Jackie is wholly frozen until she suddenly pushes Van out of the way of the plane. 

“Back away! What the fuck?” Jackie says as she is frozen in place.

“Stop the fucking plane!” You scream out to the plane. You feel yourself planted to the ground. You didn’t even react when Van fell to the ground. Everyone yells to stop the plane, and Laura Lee panics inside the plane, crying out, “I’m trying! I’m trying!” 

The plane stopped just in time to avoid harming Jackie. She looked at the plane with buggy, big eyes and took a deep breath of relief. 

Everyone pauses after the intense change of events. You stand frozen in silence as you look down at the wheels and wings. You had an intrusive thought creep into your mind, but you quieted quickly before speaking it out. 

Lottie looks on, almost disassociated, as she says, “It didn’t want him to leave.” 

You turn your head to her and look at her deeply concernedly. She says what you had thought. Maybe the wilderness didn’t want the mummy to leave. That's why he did what he did in the attic and why the air was so suffocating. 

‘21

You giggle at Misty’s goofy joke about old men as you try not to spit out the chocolate martini in your mouth. Earlier today, Misty called you to ask how you were doing after the road trip because she thought the air between you and Natalie was off. She just wanted to check up. It ended up with you sitting across from her at an Italian restaurant. 

“Yeah, so I just turned off the oxygen tank.” She says to add on to the joke, which kind of makes you laugh harder because you can see her doing that. 

“Stop, you didn’t!” You giggle again as you try to hide your face with a napkin; your face is red hot. 

“I didn’t-” Misty laughs with you as she sips on her chocolate martini. She says, “I wouldn’t do that to anyone.” 

“No, you wouldn’t.” You say it with some sternness from Misty’s character. You make her feel more supported if you sometimes reaffirm what she wants to be seen as. You see her in that way. No one likes to be told who they are. 

You notice her laugh, look slightly behind you briefly, and note it. 

“Well, So, How is your work? Any new boos” Misty asks as she takes another sip of her martini. You feel yourself smile at the question and know she asks for more profound reasons. 

“No, no, nothing special about work. And just little flings here and there. Keep the bed warm,” you say as you look at Misty’s eyes intently. You feel a little tense when you ask, “And you? How is it going with Kevin?” You ask with a soft joke about the last time you saw each other. 

Misty became slightly flustered momentarily and shook her head, “I was trying to get Natalie out of her comfort zone.” Looking behind you again, she says, “But more or less the same. No one special enough to say they dated Misty Quigley.” 

You chuckle and smile at Misty’s last comment, but you look behind you as soon as she finishes talking out of curiosity. You see behind a window of the inside of the restaurant. Dressed up nice, Misty is holding her head on her fist, listening to the man across from her, Natalie. Misty is following Natalie. 

“Misty-”

“I can explain!” Misty says as she blabbers on, “I was trying to keep an eye on her and make sure she is okay after seeing Travis because she might do something crazy or relapse.” 

You quietly listen to Misty explain herself with a soft smile as you scoff softly, pulling out your phone, “And here I thought you wanted to spend time with little old me.” 

Misty squeals, “I did want to see you. I wanted to get a drink.” 

“It’s okay.” You chuckle softly and say, “Sometimes you trade friends out for a night out. It’s alright, girl.” 

Suddenly, Misty straightens her back and smiles softly. She lifts her drink to her lips as Natalie rushes to your table. You lean back on your chair with wide eyes, holding your chocolate martini. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Natalie hissed to Misty, standing in a black dress. She was clearly on a fate tonight, and you couldn’t help but feel a mumbling jealousy in your stomach as you looked at her.  

“Okay, so, don’t look now, but,” Misty lowers her voice to a whisper and says, “that reporter, Jessica Roberts, is sitting at the bar right now. She’s watching you.” 

“And what are you doing?” Natalie tilted her head to the side as she looked at Misty with suspicious eyes, her tone clear of annoyance. 

“I’m having your back.” Misty stated. 

“Y-you’re having my…” Natalie is in disbelief. “How did you even know I was even here?” 

“I’m a citizen detective, " Misty said, looking at Natalie with big, innocent eyes. 

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re not Rizzoli and Isles. I don’t need you.” 

“Yeah, but, Natalie-” 

“Go the fuck home.” Natalie spat. 

“Alright, you need to stop talking to Misty like that-” You finally cut yourself into the conversation.

“Who are you speaking to?” Natalie snapped her head to you and said, “I expect this from Misty, but you? I don’t understand why you are here.” 

“I’m here, having a drink with Misty. I saw her at her job, and we decided to get drinks.” 

“Oh please, you came here to spy on me! How fucking pathetic. Don’t you have to write a book about rubbing off a genie?” She hissed at you and looked daggers into you. She went too far in your eyes now, and you lean on your elbow on the table as you look back into her eyes. 

“Oh, aren’t you so strong and high mighty?” You hiss lowly to Natalie. Ever since the night in the woods with Natalie, you have had difficulty holding back your teeth when you feel cornered, even a little. “Misty is here protecting you and having your back like always. Because Jessica,” You point to the bar, Jessica looking to the bartender to order another drink, “Is here waiting for you to relapse to spill the beans about it. Stop biting at people trying to be there for you; you might not be so alone. Now go drink, and go on your date with goth freak Kevin Tang.” You cut coldly as you look into Natalie’s blue eyes. You grab your drink, lean back in your chair, take a sip.

“Make sure you don’t go too far. You might need to get another one of your coins, right? What does that make it 9 times you have gotten a sobriety coin?” you stab at her and mention her many times in AA. You didn’t care how hurtful or unnecessary your anger was to her. You must say it to her, and she needed to hear it. She needed to back off Misty. 

It was intense, and it was real. 

You didn’t need to bite so hard. But she didn’t need to bite first.

You two hold a glare as Natalie steps back and scowls at you. She doesn’t say a word. You know why. 

It’s because you are right.   

You feel Misty touching your hand and saying, “Are you alright? That was pretty harsh.” Once, Natalie returned to her table with a perfect smile mask. 

“I’m alright. But I think we should go now.” You say softly as you touch Misty’s hand back, 

Misty holds your hand with a squeeze quickly. She wants to hold you. You have protected her yet again from the wolves in the group. 

You both held the heavy silence as you softly panted a bit.  You felt it in the car; it was surrounding and whole. You were happy and open, as always. 

In the car, you look over to Misty, noticing the flustered face she holds. She was always awkward, but you always found her adoring. As you both drive down to your home, the trees that pass hypnotize you into a calm place. You feel your body, and with each breath you take, cold air enters your nose, and an image of last night's dream comes to your mind. Running past trees, you felt as if you were back there somehow. Maybe it was because of the anniversary, the reporter, or Travis’s death; you couldn’t pinpoint it, but you felt a forgotten hunger you hadn’t felt in a long time. You let it take over like it did them because of the exciting thrill of it all again. It felt youthful and intense. 

“Misty.” 

“Yes?” 

“Do you miss me?” You ask her as you softly touch a lint off her shoulder.

“W-what do you mean? I have been with you for the past two hours.” She says as she drives down your street. 

“No. No, Misty.” You chuckle, and the hunger comes over you. You want to feel warm; you have been far too cold lately. “Have you missed me and the warmth we shared?”

You don’t understand yourself. You sound like you did all those years ago in the woods. How sexual you became without trying. It felt like the air around us darkened into lustful wants and licks. How natural you were with your body. 

Misty was caught off guard by how quickly your words changed the car's atmosphere. The memories of the wilderness and how you looked her over suddenly brought back feelings that she thought were long gone. Misty’s throat tightened, and her heart quickened as she glanced over at you, taking in the expression on your face as you asked her the question. She slowly parked the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel tight “Y-yeah, I did…”

Your hand snakes onto Misty’s inner thigh, and your thumb rubs the fabric of her jeans. Your eyes stare down at your hand. 

“Would you like to feel my heat again?” you whisper, feeling your hot breath hitting off her cheek. You don’t understand the tingling and desperatiness your cunt feels at this moment. You shouldn’t have touched her, spoken to her, or even considered thinking about her. You knew better than to let yourself cave into your primal instincts, instincts you have because of the wilderness with them. All the hurt in the woods manifested into want as it always did.   

Misty’s breath hitches at the feeling of your hand on her thigh, and her heartbeat quickens in her chest as her skin tingles under your touch. It's almost as if no time has passed at all. Your words and desperate tone send a shiver down her spine as she glances over at you, her eyes darkening with lust and need. “Yes… please.” She whispered back, her voice filled with want. Your hand moves up her thigh and softly rubs the fabric at the crotch of her jeans. You could feel her heat underneath. 

You lunged at Misty, cupping her cheeks with your hands. You pulled her into your face and kissed her. Your lips met and mashed together as your hands moved closer to her, pushing her back against the driver’s side door. Thank God you live on a dirt road. 

Misty lets a small gasp into the kiss as your hand moves up her thigh. Her body already feels as if it's on fire. She responds to the kiss passionately, her desire for you growing with each passing second. She reaches up and grips your hair, pulling you closer as she deepens the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth with desperate need.

(y/n) hands quickly work to unbutton Misty's jeans. You move your kisses off Misty's lips to her jaw and neck. Misty lets out a small moan as your lips move down her jaw. She leans her head back and closes her eyes, surrendering herself to the feel of your lips on her skin. The feel of your tongue moving down her neck, sending small licks and nips here and there, makes her shiver in pleasure. You softly growl in lust as you start to pull the jeans and underwear down her pale legs, your thumb touching the bare skin. She spreads her legs farther apart, allowing you to pull her jeans and underwear down, her breathing getting more labored with each passing second. 

You quickly push your two fingers inside of Misty’s weeping cunt, and she dramatically moves her leg to the center console for you to have more of her. You move her head from her neck and just look at her as you push inside of her, a gasp rattling the car escapes from her. 

You look into her brown eyes for a moment as you see when pleasure takes over her being as you feel her walls tighten around your fingers. You feel her pink, wet hole flex and twitch to your fingers; it feels like she hasn’t had sex in a long time as you start to pump your fingers into her. 

Her hand locks into your hair, or more so your head, as she rubs her other hand on your shoulder. She softly pushes you down to her cunt as she rolls her head back in a deep moan. You feel the vibration on the pads of your pointer and middle fingers. You feel the hotness of her cunt as you lean down, her musk clouding your judgment and making you think of only one thing. 

You lean down, pushing your body to the floor of the passenger’s seat, licking her cunt. You taste her flavor and wetness leaking from her clit. You circle your tongue around the bulb with reckless abandon. You feel her gushing onto your fingers, and her loud moans only encourage you to go harder. 

“(y-y/n)! Honey- right there, yeah!” Misty’s needy, desperate moans fill the car up with hot air. Her legs shake as she rolls her eyes.  She panted like an animal as you tongue into her, sucking up all her wetness as you could. You felt throbbing in your wrist as you curled your fingers up to touch her soft spot. You could have been here for days and not cared. 

Misty grabs her breast as she arches her back to your mouth. She moaned louder and louder to tell you she was going to cum, but you didn’t care. You kept licking and sucking her juices. 

“Sweet Jesus!” Misty whispers to the air as she feels you fuck her harder with your mouth. She finally lets out a high-pitched, needy groan as her feet curl, legs twitching. Her eyes closed as her head hit the glass of her door, and she leaned back to relish in the feeling. You bury yourself in her folds, looking up from her lap, and watch as she shivers, as your tongue doesn’t stop. 

You move your mouth up to her clit again and your fingers into her hole, pounding her with an elemental need to feel your fingers caress her cervix. You don’t move again. You don’t care how uncomfortable it felt as your legs were pinched into the floor, or how the cupholder stabbed into your rib, or that your neck was throbbing so that you could hear your heartbeat. You wanted her, and you wanted to feel her ultimately come undone to your fingers again.

‘96 

The clattering of some forks and spoons scrap across the plates, people talking over everyone else, and the heat of the fire warm the cabin’s first floor. Everyone was in a better mood after shooting practice and settling for the night. Travis sits alone in the corner of the room, rejected by everyone tonight as punishment. You felt yourself thinking about him being sad and alone in the corner. “Good.” 

Jackie and Shauna sit beside you at the table, your attention entirely on them and their discussion about how Pamala Anderson’s sex tape scandal. 

“I mean, she shouldn’t have been a slut and done it, is all I have to say.” Jackie shrugged and took a bite of the white fish, and her face cringed when she pulled out a small bone. 

“No!” You say with a chuckle and shake of your head, “Someone shouldn’t have robbed their safe and sold the sex tape.” 

“She shouldn’t have even done it. Like, who just does a porno if they are not a slut?” 

“She was with her husband. Who else are you supposed to have a sex tape with?” Shauna asked as she shook her head at Jackie.

“No one! No one should ever do a porn! It's so degrading.”  

“I don’t know, I don’t know how someone would want to make one, but she wasn’t with a whole lot of guys.  She’s married to Tommy Lee. And it was supposed to be his thing for tour.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t think a Mötley Crüe member would have a sex tape? I wouldn’t be surprised if they taped the many other women they have fucked,” You say as you delightfully eat the fish. It was fresh and delicious after days of only eating berries and leftover snacks you could find from the crash. You are having meat, and it feels like a real treat as you haven’t tasted anything as delicious in weeks. 

Before you could continue, Van touched your shoulder as you looked at Jackie. You turned to her as she said, “Hey, do you have a sweater I can burrow? I don’t think anyone else has anything I can wear.” 

You smiled big at Vanessa, nodding your head, and stood up. “Yeah, I have a few.” 

“Where are you going?” Jackie asks sassily as you get up. She tilts her eyes at you. 

Shauna looks up at you and is slightly confused, but she also asks, “Are you coming back?” 

“Yeah, just getting something for Van, hold up.” You say as you start to walk away. 

“Thanks, (y/n). You're a lifesaver.” Van beams as her smile moves with you. You touch her shoulder as you walk past her, and you walk over to the other side of the cabin to the bags. 

You were one of the lucky ones that found all your luggage. You had your carry-on, luggage, and purse still intact and untouched from the fire. You were so happy to have your journal and book you haven’t finished, but you felt bad for everyone still looking for their things. Van could only find her carry-on; some didn’t have anything they packed. You all carried every bag you could find, but some still had missing clothes. Because of that, Van has been coming to you to burrow clothes as the only other heavy girl much smaller than you, so you let her burrow your shirts and hoodies since the crash.

 A small sandwich bag falls to the floor as you open the bag and grab the heavy yellowjackets sweatshirt. It was your stash of weed with the rolling papers and filters. You blush as you quickly grab the bag from the ground and put it into your jeans pocket. You look behind you to see if anyone has seen that, with embarrassment painted all over your face.

You walk back over to Van and hand her the hoodie. You smile widely as you sit down. You didn’t want everyone to know you had weed, but you think that tonight would be the best night to do anything. You smile as you whisper into Jackie’s ear, “I have weed.” 

She stops eating instantly, and her eyes bug out. She looks over at you and laughs, “What?” 

You hit her shoulder softly as she laughs again, “You have what?” 

“What?” Shauna asks, besides Jackie, and when you two make eye contact, it makes you laugh. 

You whisper in Jackie’s ear again. “I have weed. Would we like a joint?” Jackie laughs and hits you on the shoulder, her mouth wide open in shock and amusement. She nods her head and whispers to Shauna, and you turn your head to Van, “Hey, I have a joint-” 

“What?” Van asks as she leans her ear towards your lips. Your lips accidentally graze her ear, and you say, “I have a joint. Tell the other seniors. Don’t be suspicious; don’t tell the underclassmen.” 

Van smirk grew wide on her freckled face as she nods her head, she says. “Okay, I’ll let them know. When are we doing this?” 

“When everyone is asleep, " you tell her, knowing that if anyone overhears you, they will not understand what you are discussing. 

 You light the joint with a twig, puffing the air out of the end of the filter. You hear muffled giggles from Jackie and Shauna beside you. " Stop laughing,” you snicker back and pull the joint from your lips. You pull Shauna and Jackie to the back of the cabin and show them the weed you packed on the plane. You all decide to roll one out. 

“Didn’t know you would have the good stuff,” Jackie smirks with an amused laugh in her voice. She takes a puff and hands it to Shauna with a muffled cough. 

Shauna laughs softly as she also smokes and coughs in response to inhaling the smoke. She covers her mouth with her elbow, and you laugh at her. 

Van moves behind the cabin's hunter shed, and Taissa, Natalie, and Lottie follow her. 

“Hey!" you say to them as you take a hit of the joint and blow the smoke quickly.

Natalie says to you, “Damn, (y/n). Didn’t know you were such a criminal. Hand that over to me.”

You giggle happily as you hand it over to Natalie. You look up at her from your spot on the log. She looks down at you with heavy eyes as she takes a hit. She slowly looks over your face again before handing it over to Van. You felt a blush come over you again as you felt her eyes scan over your features, and you didn’t know what to do. You felt insecure and flattered at the attention but still deeply hesitated to meet her eyes. 

Natalie, who never passes up a joint, reaches out her hand to take it from you while Taissa eyes it. Lottie looks at the joint and then at you with a tiny bit of concern; the others knew she’d probably be the one most concerned about the joint.

“Where’d you get that from?” Nat asks as she inhales the joint.

You felt yourself joke, “Where do you think I got weed from?’ 

“I don’t know. A drug dealer.” Van jokes to you with a scrunch of her freckled nose. 

“Sort of. My mom is the one who has the weed. She has a weed card since she got diagnosed with cancer.” You said without realizing the words from your throat. You hadn’t thought about your mom almost all day, “She grows some behind our house in the woods, Natalie,” You point at her jokingly, “Don’t get any ideas. You have to buy that shit.” 

Everyone laughs loudly at your joke. Lottie takes the joint and smiles, holding the smoke in her mouth. You look at your feet, and suddenly, your mother comes to mind. You think about your mom, and a lump grows in your throat. Did she take her night medicine? Is she watching Frasier? Is she worrying about you?  

From the side of the shed, there is a crunch of leaves and twigs, and a petite figure comes from behind the shed. Natalie turns herself and turns back to face you. She gives you a face of “fuck it's her again.” 

Misty comes from the shed, pushing a curl behind her ear as she looks at the group. You smile at her as Jackie rolls her eyes, smoking the joint beside you. 

“Hey Misty! What are you doing here?” 

“H-hi. I was going to the bathroom. What are you guys doing?” she asks nervously as she approaches the group. 

“Drugs.” Lottie says as she looks at Misty with a humorous tone. 

You laugh as you take the joint from Jackie and wave your hand to Misty to enter the circle, “Come closer, it’s okay; it’s legal here.” You joke, and it makes everyone laugh with bloodshot eyes. Misty chuckles and looks around at everyone in approval. Sometimes, it was painful to see her so desperate for some kind of friendship that it made you feel bad, so in your intoxicated state, you pulled your hand out for her, “You can try it if you want to, Misty. Sit.” 

Misty’s eyes looked wide as everyone turned their head towards you as you invited her into the smoke circle, but no one stopped you. They seemed also to want to see what Misty does. 

“I-I can? Is it safe?” she asks as she approaches the log beside you. 

Jackie snickered and looked at Misty with narrow eyes, “No, that’s why we are all smoking on it.” She condescended. 

You shake your head and take Misty’s hand. “Ignore her. Just don’t take a huge hit. You gotta get used to it, then you’ll want more,” You told Misty gently. You puff the joint before it goes out in the wind. Your body is starting to relax and calm in the woods, and your neck doesn’t hurt as much as it did earlier. 

You hand Misty the joint, and everyone watching the scene plays out with amused eyes. You gently hold your hand over hers to guide her. “Have you ever smoked a cigarette?” 

“No, they’re bad for you.” 

You chuckle and nod, “Yes, but they are just like weed. You take small inhales, not like you're trying to breathe it in, but sip on a drink with a straw, okay? Baby puff.” You say, pulling the joint back to your lips and showing her. 

Your lips wrap around the filter softly as you take a quarter breath in. You then dramatically hold it out and show that you take the rest of the breath through your mouth. You hold the smoke in for a moment and then let it out for her to understand. “You get it now?” you cough. 

“I-I think.” she says as she takes the joint from you, holding it between shaky fingers. She takes a puff and then starts coughing furiously. Natalie took the joint from Misty’s shaking hand before it fell to the ground, she takes a puff inbetween her laughs. 

Misty holds her fist to her lips as she tries to get all the smoke out of her lungs. Everyone laughs happily and claps for her when she does it, enjoying seeing Misty try something for the first time. You put your hand on her back to pat it gently. She seems to relax at your touch momentarily before finally getting her coughing under control.

“You finally tried marijuana for the first time!” You exclaim and rub a circle on Misty’s back, her cheeks crimson. 

“It was amazing,” Misty breathlessly says as she looks at everyone else. Everyone is very high now, and their eyes are bloodshot and dry. You smack your lips, longing for a drink. 

“Misty, have you ever drank?” Lottie asks as she sits with her knees to her chest. She tilts her head to the sides and watches Misty’s facial expressions. You didn’t understand the feeling you felt from her eyes. It felt almost like she was studying and calculating Misty. You have never seen that look on someone. 

Misty studders and says, “Y-Yeah, I have. I stole some sherry from my mother’s cabinet.” 

Van laughs a little “whoa” out as a joke about how mild Misty’s confession was, the smoke of the joint coming out of her mouth like the hot breath of a hunger wolf, and she says, “I’ve done crazier.” 

Taissa looks at Van with a playful glare and says, “Like what?” 

“I stole a whole bottle fo whiskey from my mom. And she didn’t even find out. She didn’t even realize she didn’t drink it, so she just got more for herself.” Van confesses with a smug smirk on her face, and Natalie chuckles and nods her head like she’s done that before to her mom. You felt a little wrong about what Van said because it made you feel like her mom had a nasty drinking problem. 

“I did that before with my mom’s cigarettes.” Natalie says, “They never notice if you just take a few here and there.” 

Jackie smirked and said, “I know every one of my mom's pills in the bathroom cabinet. I took a few for the trip. She’s never caught me before.” 

“My dad is very strict with those things. I don’t think I can do anything without my parents knowing,” Lottie said, looking to the ground with a severe expression. You couldn’t put your finger on it, it her confession felt like it had a little more then she was letting on. Lately she has been off and talking more vague about things, and confessing more things about her life. Lottie’s parents were strict but the more you hear about them it sounds like they hover over Lottie’s every move.  

“My mom just grows the shit, and I just take it.” You blurt out with your words softly slurring because you are high, and you realize you talked about your mom again. Was she okay? 

Everyone laughs at how you talk and starts to laugh at their words sounding like yours—slurred and funny to hear. 

You felt a sudden wave come over you as you laughed with your friends. It felt good—maybe too good—so good that it made you think about your mother. Was she okay? Did she get her pills on time? Did she bathe? Did she go to chemo?

In your laughter, your laughs turn to sobs in a second. You cover your mouth as heavy sobs leave your throat. You couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

Everyone slowly realized that your sounds weren’t in glee anymore; they were out of sorrow and a moment of weakness. 

When you look, you see brown eyes, concerns, and worry on all the faces. You let out one thing that you knew was going to hurt them. Your body didn’t stop itself from letting out deep-seated sorrow. 

“I’m sorry. I really miss my parents and momm- mom so much.” You whimpered as you wiped your tears. You had a full belly and a fire keeping you warm. But inside, you have never been so cold and helpless in these woods. 

Everyone’s faces soften and twist in their sadness. We all know what we are feeling, and they also start tearing up. Everyone missed their parents, and you felt like an asshole even saying anything. 

You sniffle and try to stop your tears. Being strong has worn you down, but you have a “strong shoulder.” Like your father always said, you can handle the hurt. 

You say to everyone, “I think we all need some love right now. Group hug. Please.” Standing up, throwing the dying joint into the fire, moving your plush arms around to urge them to you.  

One by one, they stood, hovered over you, and hugged you and each other—a moment of shared pain and joy. Being strong was hard, but as you felt them hold you, you felt a second wind. You have to get yourself and the others out of here. Out of these fucking woods. 

Note 2: Sorry to anyone who wanted to be on the taglist and I couldn’t add you! I hope you still find this fic!

❀ A03 ❀ wattpad ❀ spotify playlist  ❀

Taglist: @zhivaxo @h-doodles @homopheli @bigtimesalt8196 @juniperjean @scatorccioz @juniperjean @yaakooi @lottieswebs @juchily @freezinggay @deathly710-blog @ghostoflesbianism @marvelous-wandanatangel @errriiie @anskkks @deathvidal @slutforhotpeople @thursdayygrrrl @day-ziez @evewasheretoday @mayasaurusss @captainbabybear @eleanormall @mommyeater2000 @leonchef @mikititta @tigersarrcool @nyasbae @dykepvppy @jax1118 @oakwave @mmiah @dvrkhcld @swiftin0f @opheliadeservedbetter-27 @psychicdreamwonderland @pinkmoonzzz @under-your-bed-not-in-it @sadsapphic-rose @fictitious-sapphic

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 14

Or: a secret Admirer AU

TW: homophic language used due to internalized homophobia

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13

Steve doesn’t know what’s worse, not being able to see the expression on Eddie’s face, or the moment he turns around and he can see it. He looks like Steve just shot his dog. But, wouldn’t Chrissy be the dog in that metaphor? Steve drops it before Robin can somehow sense his train of thought and burst into the room with the sole purpose of punching him.

“So, what?” Eddie asks, voice sharp and angry. “This was all just some joke? Pick on the freak? Make him think a pretty girl actually likes him?”

Any sadness he’d been feeling is wiped off his face now, masked over with a tired sort of rage. It’s tempting to go along with Eddie’s assumptions. Yes, it was all just a joke. Yes, they’d all been laughing behind his back for weeks on end. After all, Eddie doesn’t look hurt, he looks pissed.

But, it’s too late. Steve had already seen the anguish in Eddie’s eyes before he’d banked it.

“No,” Steve murmurs, only noticing that Eddie’s mid-tirade when he stops talking. His head’s buzzing too loud to hear much else. “It wasn’t a joke.”

Eddie scoffs, waiting in pointed silence until Steve raises his head and meets his eyes. “Then how do you explain all this?” He gyrates his hand around the room, encompassing all four of their bodies with jerky movements. “Huh, Harrington?”

Steve swallows. He hopes it’s not as audible to everyone else as it is in his own ears, but by the way Eddie’s gaze snaps down to it before pulling back up to meet his eyes again, that hope is futile.

“I just—” Steve starts, forcing himself to keep looking at Eddie, even as his eyes flay him open. “It wasn’t supposed to get this complicated.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asks, gritting out every word, body leaning toward Steve like he wants to reach across the distance between them and strangle him.

“I just like you, okay?” Steve snaps. Eddie jerks back like he’d just taken a blow. “I liked you, and I thought this would be a good way to, I don’t know, work through it?”

“You like me?” Eddie asks, almost laughing, just like that day in the cafeteria when he was singling out the jocks, just like he always does when something’s not funny but he’s pretending it is.

It hurts anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mutters, staring down at his own lap, unable to look at anyone in the room. “I didn’t mean to make it your problem.”

“Didn’t mean to—” Eddie snaps, and Steve sees an abrupt enough movement that Steve’s afraid Eddie’s going to hit him. Steve jerks back into the couch, heartbeat rabbiting in his chest, but all Eddie’s done is stand, hands clenched, mouth snarling. “How the hell is tricking me into thinking Chrissy Cunningham liked me not making it my problem?”

“Eddie—“ Jeff cuts in, tone a warning, but Eddie doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You really think that’s ‘not making it my problem?’” Eddie asks, throwing finger quotations around it mockingly as he glares down at Steve. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Steve feels small, wishes he was smaller—he wants to sink into the cracks of the Munson’s ratty couch and never be seen again. This moment is too much for him.

He’s known ever since that moment in the cafeteria when Eddie’d pressed his lips to Chrissy’s hand that they’d end up here. He knew, but he’d kept writing the letters, kept Chrissy embroiled into his mess. Chrissy who’s standing silent and shocked behind Eddie, hand pressed to her mouth as Steve’s mess implodes around him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve replies, voice small. He’s not sure if he’s talking to Eddie, or Chrissy, or hell, even Jeff. He just knows that he really, truly is sorry.

“You’re sorry?” Eddie demands, and he’s pacing now, hands fisted into his own hair. “You’re sorry for what? For derailing my life? For making me think someone might actually like me? For what?”

Steve doesn’t say anything as he watches Eddie’s movements become more frenetic. He’s pulling his hair hard now, and all Steve wants to do is reach out and grab Eddie’s hands, make him stop hurting himself. But, it’s not his place, so he clenches his hands into fists atop his own thighs and looks up at the boy he likes unraveling at the seams. Because of him.

“The first time a girl actually likes me and it’s you.” It lands like venom, leaching through all the sinew and bone of Steve’s body and turning his beating heart into a pulpy mess. “What, you thought just because everyone calls me a freak that I’d be a quee—”

“Eddie!” It’s Chrissy and Jeff, both shouting out at the same time, clearly trying to get Eddie to stop talking before he says something irreversible.

It’s too late: Steve’s already heard him.

He doesn’t know what his own face is doing, but when Eddie finally looks at him, his face goes white, then turns sort of green like he’s going to be sick. When he takes a halting step forward, Steve can’t help the way he presses further into the couch, hands shaking where they’re still clenching in his lap.

He wants to scream, or cry, or die so he doesn’t have to do this anymore. But, Eddie’s right, this is all his fault, so the least he can do is offer up an explanation.

“It’s not Chrissy’s fault,” Steve says, looking down at his own shaking hands, willing them to lie still. “Or Jeff’s. I dragged them into this, so don’t be mad at them, okay?”

“Steve—” Chrissy says, voice choking with emotion.

“I was afraid.” Steve talks right over her, doesn’t even look her way. He can’t, or he’ll break. “But, that’s no excuse for making you have to deal with my bullshit.”

“Steve,” Chrissy tries again.

“I’m sorry.” Steve finally looks up from his lap, meeting Eddie’s fathomless eyes. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

Steve gets up on shaky legs and walks to the trailer’s front door, giving Eddie a wide berth. No one says anything as he makes his way through the small living room, or when he opens the door and steps through.

It’s only as the door’s shutting closed behind him that he hears Eddie say, “Shit Harrington, wait.”

Steve doesn’t. He walks down the Munson’s drive and straight out of the trailer park.

No one follows him.

***

The silence hangs like a noose in the trailer after the click of the door closing quietly behind Harrington’s drooping frame. Eddie stares into nothing, entirely blank.

“That was cruel.” It’s Chrissy who says it. Chrissy, who pretended to like him, who led him on, who…was just trying to protect her friend.

“Not any crueler than he was to me,” Eddie mutters, still staring at the closed door feeling inexplicably like he should run after him.

Instead, he turns his back on the door and tries to forget the slope of Harrington’s shoulders as he’d walked out on him.

His brain’s full of fog, emotions swirling around too quickly for him to catch any of them. He can’t make sense of any of this. Not Chrissy who pretended to like him or Steve Harrington, who actually did, not—

“You—” Eddie starts, eyes focusing as something else takes over his brain as he sets his sights on Jeff. “You knew?”

Jeff grimaces, but straightens his spine and tilts his chin up like Eddie’s the enemy now. “Yeah,” he says, all flippant, as if Eddie’s world isn’t shattering around his feet. “I knew.”

Eddie laughs, can’t help it with the way anger’s pooling in his gut. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It was Steve’s secret to te—”

“Screw Steve!” Eddie shouts, suddenly enough that Chrissy takes a startled step back. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

Jeff scoffs, stepping in front of Chrissy. “Your friend?” he demands with an incredulous laugh that makes Eddie want to strangle him. “You didn’t even tell me about the letters in the first fucking place!”

He stomps forward, coming at Eddie like he’s going to do—something, Eddie will never know what because Chrissy wraps her arm around his waist and pulls him back with a chiding, worried, “Jeff.”

Eddie stares at the way her fingers curl proprietarily into the fabric of his t-shirt, the way he steadies under her touch and takes a step back, the way he stands in the cradle of her hold like it’s his birthright.

“Hold—hold on,” Eddie says, holding his hand out like that’ll stop the dots from connecting in his own mind. “Are you two—”

He doesn’t finish the thought, can’t put words to what he’s accusing them of, not right now. But, as he flails his fingers between them, they both look at the floor, in goddamn sync, even with their own guilt. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Anger’s always been Eddie’s worst enemy; he’s pretty sure it’s an inherited trait from his pa, the way rage makes his blood boil, makes him take things too far, makes him react like verbal words are a physical threat. Just like his pa, no matter how much he doesn’t want to be.

“So, you what?” he asks, whole body shaking with the force of his anger. “Decided to lead me on while fucking my best friend?”

He laughs, sharp and mean when Chrissy jerks like he slapped her. He clenches his fist against the desire to do just that.

“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” Jeff replies quietly, like that’ll make him the reasonable one.

“Fuck o—“

“You don’t own her,” Jeff interrupts him, Eddie screams in his throat, wild with the fire burning through him.

Jeff sighs, low and disappointed, just like Uncle Wayne does if Hop picks Eddie up for some trumped-up charges, or he fails another pop quiz, or he brings in more money he can’t explain to his Uncle. 

The thought of Wayne is what does him in. Even in absentia, that old man brings him back to himself. Eddie shudders, takes a step back and stares at the carpet beneath his toes, trying to bank his anger back beneath his ribs where it can’t hurt anyone else.

“I’m sorry we hurt you,” Jeff continues, voice soft, soft soft. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on. But Eddie?”

It takes a long moment for Eddie to drag gaze away from his own feet and up to Jeff’s face. Jeff waits, silent, until Eddie meets his eyes.

“You need to figure your own shit out, too,” he says gently. “Because if you don’t? You’re going to hurt everyone around you, not just Steve.”

Eddie looks back at the door Harrington—Steve—had walked through, feelings twisting around on themselves until they’re choking him.

“Harrington,” Eddie starts, throat catching on the consonants of his name like it’d been years since he last spoke. “Did he really—?”

He can’t finish this thought either, hopes Jeff or Chrissy will pluck it from his mind and answer it for him.

“Like you?” Jeff asks, waiting for Eddie to nod his assent before answering. “Yeah, man. He does.”

The present tense is what does him in. Does. Steve Harrington, king of the jocks, liar, boy, likes him. Enough to write letters to him. He doesn’t know what to do with this, where to put it in the reality of his life.

“Oh.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Eddie,” Chrissy says, taking a step around Jeff to look up at Eddie with pleading eyes. “They’ll kill him.”

It’s only then, staring at the terror on Chrissy’s face, that the magnitude of the secret he’s just learned sinks in. Harrington, lady-killer, probable prom king, jock extraordinaire, is queer.

The vindictive part of Eddie he tries to keep caged wants to sling this around— Harrington’s just comeuppance for every time he’s made the rest of them feel less than, feel like a freak. But, even with his anger barely banked, Eddie knows the punishment wouldn’t fit the crime.

Harrington had, what? Laughed snidely behind Hagan after standing by while he’d seen a nerd get his books knocked out of his hands? Had been born with a perfect face and perfect hair in a castle of a house, so he’d been idolized for it.

Telling wouldn’t take that all away—it’d leave Harrington dead.

Even Hagan doesn’t deserve that.

So, all Eddie says is, “I won’t,” quietly, hoping she believes him.

She sighs, slumping into Jeff, trusting him to hold her up. Eddie doesn’t want to see it anymore; he can’t be in the same room as those two and not let the fire in his blood bleed through to his words.

He stands, stiff, unsure, and asks, “can you guys just go?”

“Eddie—“

“Jeff, please,” Eddie asks, voice breaking on the last word.

“Okay.”

Jeff ushers Chrissy out of his trailer and, just before the door shuts behind him, Eddie calls out, “Jeff?”

“Yeah, buddy?” Jeff calls back, not turning back around, not closing the door.

“I’ll call you,” he says, hoping it’s loud enough for his friend to hear. “Okay?”

Jeff doesn’t point out the lack of time frame or the way Eddie’s voice shakes. He’s good like that, always has been, no matter how mad they get at each other. “You call, and I’ll pick up.”

Without another word, Jeff lets the door close. Eddie stands there stationary until he hears the sound of a car starting, kicking up gravel all the way out of the trailer park. Only then, does he collapse onto the couch and bury his head in his hands.

It’s a mistake—the pressure of his hand making pain bloom hard and fast on the bruise on his eyes. Eddie groans, tired, in pain, and completely done. He wants Uncle Wayne to brush his hair out of his face, wants Jeff to sit at his side, or Gareth to light a joint for him, or Chrissy to bump their shoulders together. 

He wants—

The bag of frozen peas Harrington had handed him have gone mushy and warm.

The trailer’s quiet, and Eddie’s all alone.

PART 15

[snickerdoodlles]

can we really? because that's not been my experience in this fandom.

western fandom has a consistent problem in overriding other cultures with their own. emphasis on western holidays/traditions, western folklore/stories, western customs, the specific way western cultures engage with queer topics/politics. this happens constantly for all eastern media, but to me it's always seemed particularly egregious for Thai media and esp Thai bl (tbf, this is potentially because it's one of my bigger online spaces while also not being a big space so it's just what I'm seeing more of, but it is so bad). people often push back with either "it's just a joke" or "you can't expect everyone to just know everything about [other culture] just for fanfic/fandom," except that only applies when people have made the effort to learn about that culture. it's not an excuse to ignore it completely.

and what's so mind-boggling to me about moonlight chicken in particular is the constant sectioning of Jim, Wen, and Li Ming into "different generations of queer." They aren't! Jim was running a restaurant while happily in an open queer relationship with his boyfriend, yet the fucking number of times I've had to see "lol internalized homophobia" (do you guys know what internalized homophobia means) or "he's from a different generation of queer where theyre resigned to being queer" (fucking WHAT?!) posts is overwhelming huge to the number of times I've seen posts that acknowledge or engage with moonlight chickens extremely pointed narrative that social acceptance is not enough when the law does not protect queer people's rights and what happened to Jim can still happen to Wen, still happen to Li Ming. (I have seen. 2 posts that engage with it. one of which was mine. I blocked the tag for a good 8 months because it was so overwhelmingly "lol internalized homophobia" posts.)

I genuinely don't mean this comment directly to you. I don't mean this as a "no fun allowed" comment either, but Thai bl fandom, moonlight chicken fandom esp, is so. bad. about ignoring the heavily Thai cultural elements of its narrative that none of the jokes are funny in the larger fandom context.

its so weird seeing posts that mock uncle jim for worrying about li ming's queerness as though his dead boyfriend's parents (legally) stealing his entire life savings and leaving him to manage a restaurant business specifically because gay couples aren't legally recognized as couples wasn't what put him in a cycle of crushing debt and endless poverty in the first place

[vingtetunmars]

Baby, Come To Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: Eddie Munson, capitalist-hater and full-time menace, makes it a point to visit Scoops Ahoy three times a week—not for the ice cream, but to get a rise out of one Steve Harrington. At least, that’s what Robin thinks.

Part 2 / Part 3

Tags: fluff, humor, teasing, slow burn, a little POV outsider, Eddie's a menace, secret relationship, developing relationship, Steve bisexual awakening, and it's Eddie Munson, a bit of internalized homophobia, Steve is severely touch starved, Steve is also stubborn, Eddie is a sweetheart, and a romantic.

A/N: I can't get out of this place 😔 mama, i'm back in the mf house. the 2022 steddie house. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 3.7k

masterlist

It was a Tuesday.

Which meant, of course, Eddie Munson would be there.

Robin clocked it first—how like clockwork Eddie showed up three times a week. Always during Steve’s shift. Never bought ice cream. Always left smirking. She didn’t think much of it, maybe Eddie was just bored and weird and liked messing with the former King of Hawkins High.

The familiar sound of chain rattling came right on cue, 3:12 p.m. sharp, and Robin looked up from the register just in time to see Eddie stroll in, rings glinting and leather jacket somehow not suffocating him in the heat.

Steve didn’t even need to look up. He sighed like a man preparing for battle.

“Here we go.”

“Ahoy, sailor,” Eddie drawled, sauntering up to the counter like he owned the joint. He leaned on the glass, face close to the smudged sneeze guard. “You miss me, Harrington?”

Steve turned to face him with that long-suffering look that Robin had grown to love.

“You know this is an ice cream shop, right? We sell ice cream. Not whatever weird attention you’re fishing for.”

Eddie grinned, unbothered, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear with exaggerated grace. “You wound me. I came for the delightful customer service. And maybe for a glimpse of your shiny golden hair under that stupid hat.”

“It’s part of the uniform.”

“And yet, somehow, you manage to make it sexy.”

Robin nearly choked on her gum.

Steve’s face twitched. He always did this thing—looked like he was going to either throw a punch or bolt. But instead, he grabbed the scoop and leaned down into the freezer, pretending to be busy.

“You want something or not, Munson?”

Eddie tapped the glass like he was genuinely thinking about it. “What’s the most expensive thing here?”

Robin crossed her arms, watching the exchange like it was her weekly sitcom. “It’s all under five bucks. You’re not impressing anyone.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone,” Eddie said with mock innocence, gaze flicking to Steve. “Just making conversation with my favorite sailor.”

Steve stood back up and slammed a cone down on the counter. “Congratulations. It’s vanilla. Just like your sense of humor.”

Eddie laughed, genuinely this time, and pulled a crumpled dollar out of his back pocket. He slid it across the counter with two fingers, slow and smug. “Keep the change, big boy.”

Steve didn’t respond. He just turned and shoved the cone into the holder a little harder than necessary.

Robin caught Eddie’s eye over the counter. He winked at her like they were co-conspirators in some unspoken joke. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips.

“See you Thursday, Harrington,” Eddie called, heading backward toward the door like a man exiting a stage.

Steve muttered something under his breath that sounded like I hate that guy.

Robin leaned in. “You know he only does this to mess with you, right?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

But he was still staring at the door long after Eddie was gone.

Then Thursday came.

Eddie had come in earlier than usual, twirling a lollipop between his teeth like it was some kind of prop. He’d leaned so far over the counter that Steve had threatened to dump fudge on his boots. The usual performance—loud voice, lazy smirks, dramatic declarations of affection. Eddie left with a single scoop of chocolate, after tasting all the flavors like he was a connoisseur, tossed a salute toward Steve, and waltzed out the door like nothing happened.

Robin waited a beat, then glanced at Steve, who had gone quiet, wiping down the counter with unnecessary force.

She nudged him lightly with her elbow.

“Hey,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Can I ask you something?”

Steve didn’t look up. “If it’s about why Eddie Munson is clinically insane, I don’t have an answer.”

“No, I mean…” She paused, then tilted her head, watching him closely. “Are you okay with it? With him coming in like that? I mean, I know he’s trying to be funny, but if it’s making you uncomfortable or anything, you can tell me. I’ll say something.”

Steve stopped wiping.

For a second, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Then he tossed the rag onto the counter and shook his head with a small huff of laughter.

“It’s fine, Buckley,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. “It’s just Munson being Munson. He’s harmless.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yeah. He’s not doing anything wrong. Just likes to get a rise out of me.” He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but Robin caught something tight in the corner of his mouth. “I mean, I'm pretty sure it's just a joke.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. Just checking. You don’t exactly seem chill about it.”

“I’m fine.”

Robin let it drop, but she kept watching him as he turned to stack cups. His movements were a little too deliberate. Like he was trying not to think too hard about something.

And when someone came in again—just a customer this time, a mom with a screaming toddler—Robin noticed how quickly Steve’s eyes flicked to it. Like part of him had been hoping it was Eddie again.

Or maybe dreading it.

She couldn’t tell which.

It was Saturday.

Steve was manning the counter alone for most of the afternoon, Robin having disappeared into the back to restock the waffle cone boxes and fight the industrial freezer. She came back out with a puff of cold air at her heels and a box in her arms—just in time to see the back of Eddie Munson’s denim vest as he stepped away from the counter.

“See ya, Steve,” Eddie said, voice low, a little quieter than usual. Not laced with sarcasm or smirking bravado—just… soft. A little rough around the edges, like it hadn’t been smoothed out into a punchline yet.

Robin blinked, freezing mid-step as Eddie pushed the door open and let it swing shut behind him.

Steve didn’t look up. He was fiddling with the napkin dispenser, pretending it was jammed.

“Was that Munson?” she asked casually, walking over.

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” She glanced at the door, then back at him. “He didn’t shout anything dumb this time. Kind of felt like I walked into the middle of a normal conversation.”

Steve scoffed, but it lacked real bite. “Nah, same old. He came in, said some crap about how I looked like a lost sailor searching for his true north, then left with a cone of butter pecan.”

Robin snorted. “Okay, that’s on brand.”

“Exactly.”

He finally got the dispenser open and grabbed a stack of napkins, too forcefully. Robin didn’t push. The way he kept his eyes firmly on the counter told her enough.

So she let it go.

The mall was mostly empty by the time Steve finished wiping down the last counter. The lights were dimmed, the air still holding the faint, cloying scent of fudge and waffle cones. He locked up Scoops Ahoy with practiced ease, gave a cursory glance around the food court, and headed toward the parking lot with his hands shoved in his pockets.

His BMW sat right where he left it. But Steve didn’t head toward the driver’s side.

He slowed.

Looked around.

A quick scan of the lot—no security guards, no straggling teens, just the buzz of fluorescent lights and the distant hum of cicadas.

Then, he turned on his heel and walked straight to the rusty, brown van parked two spots over.

The back door creaked when he opened it, but he slipped in quickly and shut it behind him. The scent inside was familiar—cheap cologne, weed, and something uniquely Eddie.

“Hey,” Steve said, breath already catching.

Eddie didn’t answer.

He just reached over and grabbed Steve by the collar, dragging him into a kiss that landed somewhere between desperate and reverent. Their mouths collided with a low noise, teeth clashing for a second before they found rhythm, and then it was all hands and exhales and the sound of breath quickening in the small space.

Steve let himself be pulled in further, one of Eddie’s rings cold against the back of his neck, grounding him. Eddie’s hand slid up into his hair, tugging just enough to make Steve exhale into his mouth, pliant and eager.

“Missed you,” Eddie muttered against his lips.

Steve laughed, a little breathless. “You saw me, like, six hours ago.”

Eddie leaned in again, kissing the corner of Steve’s mouth, then his jaw, voice softer now. “Still missed you.”

Steve’s fingers curled into the fabric of Eddie’s worn shirt. “You really gotta flirt with me in front of Robin like that?”

“That’s not flirting,” Eddie said with a grin. “That’s foreplay.”

Steve groaned into his shoulder. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

“Relax.” Eddie cupped the side of his face gently, thumb brushing along his cheek. “We’re careful.”

Steve turned slightly, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s palm before resting his forehead against it.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The van was still, fog building slightly on the windows, their bodies warm in the confined space.

Eddie was the first to break the silence. He leaned back just a bit, hand now resting lightly on Steve’s thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles.

“You okay?” he asked, quieter now. Real.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Just tired. Long day.”

Eddie’s thumb stilled. “You wanna crash at my place tonight?”

Steve hesitated—only because he always did, calculating the odds of someone seeing his car there. But he nodded.

“Yeah. I do.”

Eddie grinned, wide and genuine, and leaned in for another kiss—this one slow, tender, almost shy.

Steve melted into it.

He always did.

1984

The air outside bit colder than Steve expected.

He rubbed his hands together and stuffed them into the pockets of his jacket, breath visible as he exhaled hard. The music inside Tina’s house pulsed faintly through the windows, muffled now, like it belonged to another world. One where Nancy wasn’t drunk, crying, and calling their whole relationship “bullshit.”

He should’ve yelled. But he couldn’t.

So he stormed out. He just needed to breathe.

A flick of orange light sparked in the darkness off to the side, barely visible past the row of parked cars. Steve turned toward it instinctively, eyes adjusting.

A figure leaned against the back of a dented van, one boot propped against the bumper, cigarette glowing faint between two fingers.

Then a voice, low and lazy, drifted through the shadows.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Steve’s jaw clenched.

“Jesus, Munson.”

Eddie grinned around the cigarette, clearly pleased to have startled him. “Didn’t mean to scare the prom king. You looked like you were about to throw up.”

Steve didn’t answer. He looked away, trying to decide if it was worth walking the other direction.

Eddie took a drag and let the silence stretch before adding, “Girlfriend drama?”

Steve shifted his weight. “You always hang around high school parties you weren’t invited to?”

Eddie lifted his beer bottle in mock salute. “I go where the business goes, Harrington. Rich kids and bad decisions—can’t beat the market.”

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t leave.

The silence felt heavier this time, made worse by the chill that crept into his jacket sleeves. Eddie didn’t say anything else, just stood there watching him with those sharp, knowing eyes. Steve hated how he always looked like he knew more than he should.

“You don’t have to pretend like you care,” Steve said finally, not looking at him. “You don’t even like me.”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t have to like someone to notice when they look like shit.”

That made Steve scoff under his breath, just barely.

Eddie took another drag, then flicked some ash onto the gravel.

“She say something?” he asked, softer now.

Steve paused. “Yeah.”

Eddie waited.

“She said... it was all bullshit.” Steve let out a bitter laugh. “Me. Us. Everything.”

Eddie whistled low under his breath. “Damn.”

He didn’t offer sympathy. Didn’t pat Steve on the back or tell him Nancy didn’t mean it. And somehow, Steve appreciated that more.

“You wanna hit?” Eddie asked after a beat, holding out the cigarette between two fingers.

Steve looked at it, hesitated, then took it. He inhaled awkwardly—because he'd only done it occasionally—and coughed a little, earning a low chuckle from Eddie.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered, handing it back. “Real funny.”

“Gotta find joy somewhere.”

They stood in silence again, the only sound the faint echo of party noise and the crackle of Eddie’s smoke.

“I don’t get you,” Steve said suddenly.

Eddie raised a brow. “Yeah? I don’t get you either, King Steve.”

“I’m not—” Steve stopped himself. Shook his head. “Whatever.”

Eddie just looked at him, eyes unreadable. “You know... you don’t have to keep pretending like you don’t care. About any of it.”

Steve frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Eddie said quickly, a little too quickly. He pushed off the van, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his boot. “Just forget it.”

He started walking toward the house, but before he disappeared into the shadows, he paused.

“Get home safe, Harrington.”

And then he was gone.

Steve stayed outside a while longer, watching the glow of the cigarette fade into the dirt, wondering why that random comment—you don’t have to pretend—had hit harder than anything Nancy had said all night.

Steve had no reason to be hanging around the side entrance of the school. First period had already started. He wasn’t even sure what his plan was—maybe to bail, maybe to walk in late, maybe to stall long enough that no one would look at him too long.

He leaned against the cold brick wall, the sting in his ribs flaring with every shift of his weight. His face was still a mess—bruises blooming purple under one eye, a cut just at the corner of his lip, and the fading shadow of Billy Hargrove’s ring across his cheekbone.

He told people it was a basketball fight. No one questioned it. No one really cared.

He heard footsteps before he saw him. Heavy boots, familiar and deliberate.

Eddie Munson rounded the corner with his denim jacket over a threadbare hoodie, binder under one arm, a Walkman clipped to his belt.

He slowed when he saw Steve.

Then smirked.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Pretty Boy Harrington. You look like you went twelve rounds with a lawnmower.”

Steve let out a tired snort, not quite a laugh. “That the best you’ve got?”

Eddie tilted his head, stepping closer. His eyes roved over Steve’s face, lingered for a beat too long on the cut near his mouth. “Nah, I’m pacing myself.”

Steve shifted against the wall, biting back a wince. “Don’t you have class?”

“Don’t you?”

“Touché.”

Eddie leaned his shoulder against the wall beside him, just out of arm’s reach. He tapped his fingers against his binder. “So… what happened?”

“Does it matter?”

Eddie shrugged. “Not really. Just curious what could’ve made King Steve look like a chew toy.”

Steve didn’t respond.

Eddie, for once, didn’t push. He glanced away, chewing on his lip ring thoughtfully before speaking again—quieter this time.

“Look… if you need something to take the edge off…” He looked back at Steve, voice casual but careful. “I know pills suck, and if you’re hurting—really hurting—I’ve got other stuff. Not gonna make you float or anything. Just… help you breathe easier.”

Steve blinked.

“You’re offering me weed?”

“I’m offering you peace, man,” Eddie said with a crooked grin. “Temporary peace. With a killer soundtrack, if you stick around long enough.”

Steve looked at him—really looked at him. At the messy curls and the dirt under his nails, at the way he hid sharpness behind jokes but didn’t seem to enjoy the act today.

“You always this generous to people you don’t like?” Steve asked, arms crossed.

Eddie’s grin faded just a little. “Nah. Just the ones who look like they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be touched without it hurting.”

Steve swallowed.

The bell rang in the distance.

Neither of them moved.

Eventually, Eddie pushed off the wall and turned to go, but before he rounded the corner, he tossed a glance back.

“Offer stands.”

And then he disappeared into the hallway.

The school emptied out slowly, the sounds of slamming lockers and clunky boots fading into the hum of engines and teenagers peeling off in hand-me-down cars. Steve stayed put, leaning against a tree at the edge of the parking lot, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He watched Eddie’s beat-up van like it might disappear if he blinked.

He wasn’t even sure why he was doing this.

Well—he was. His ribs still throbbed when he breathed too deep, and the Tylenol wasn’t doing jack. But it wasn’t just the pain. It was the quiet. The space between each breath. He couldn’t stop hearing Nancy’s voice in his head, couldn’t stop picturing Billy’s fist coming down again and again, couldn’t stop feeling like everything he’d known about himself was unraveling, thread by golden thread.

So when Eddie finally strolled up to his van—late as always, spinning his keys around his fingers like a sideshow act—Steve straightened, suddenly unsure.

Eddie paused when he noticed him.

“Well, well,” Eddie said, tossing his guitar case into the back of the van. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

Steve shrugged. “You said the offer stood.”

Eddie unlocked the driver’s side, swung the door open, then glanced at Steve over the roof. “Hate to break it to you, Harrington, but I’m tapped out.”

Steve’s face fell, but he tried to cover it with a shrug. “Oh. Alright, no big deal—”

“But,” Eddie cut in, tossing his backpack inside, “I’ve got some back at my place. If you’re serious.”

Steve hesitated. He chewed the inside of his cheek, eyes flicking to the now half-empty parking lot. There was no reason to say yes. No reason to follow a guy he barely spoke to, let alone trusted.

Except… maybe there was.

“Yeah,” Steve said finally. “Sure. I’ll follow you.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows, surprised—but not displeased.

“Alright then.” He climbed in and started the engine, the van grumbling to life like it resented being woken up. He leaned out the open window. “Try not to lose me, Harrington. She’s got the speed of a wounded turtle.”

Steve gave a tired smile and jogged back to his BMW.

Just for the quiet.

Just for tonight.

The trailer creaked underfoot as Eddie unlocked the door and pushed it open with his shoulder.

“My uncle's already at work,” he said over his shoulder. “Won’t be back ’til late. We’ve got the place to ourselves.”

Steve stepped inside slowly, eyes sweeping over the space. It was dim, a little cluttered, but not dirty. The couch cushions didn’t match, and there were empty mugs and hats hanging on the wall, scattered guitar picks on the counter, a stack of records leaning beside the old turntable. It smelled like laundry that didn’t fully dry and a hint of incense—not unpleasant, just lived-in.

It was the first time Steve had been somewhere that felt real in a while. No pretense. No curated shelf of family photos or perfectly fluffed throw pillows.

Just Eddie.

He didn’t know what he expected. But it wasn’t this.

“You can sit,” Eddie said, already moving to the kitchen cabinet. “I’m not gonna bite unless you ask nice.”

Steve rolled his eyes and eased down on the couch, wincing a little as the cushions shifted under him. His ribs still ached. He tried not to show it.

Eddie returned a moment later with a small tin box in his hands. He plopped down on the floor in front of the coffee table, cross-legged, and popped it open—revealing a neat stash of rolling papers, a grinder, and a little bag of weed.

He got to work like it was second nature. Steve watched him, quiet.

Eddie didn’t look up. “So, how much you want? I can roll you a few, you pay, I pretend to care about your music taste, and you get to pretend you’re a rebel for the weekend.”

Steve hesitated. “...Yeah. About that.”

Eddie stopped mid-grind and finally looked up.

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t—uh. I don’t actually know how to smoke it.”

Eddie blinked.

Then blinked again.

“No shit?”

Steve shrugged, a little sheepish. “Cigarettes sometimes. Not… this.”

Eddie stared for another beat, then laughed—a real one, bright and sharp. “Oh my god. You’re adorable.”

“Don’t say that.”

“No, seriously.” He grinned as he started rolling. “You showed up at my van like some kind of sad ex-quarterback turned burnout-in-training and didn’t even know what to do with the stuff?”

“I thought it was like… you just light it and inhale.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie said, tone mock-sweet. “You’re gonna die if you try to go full joint solo on your first time. Nah. We’re sharing.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “You sure?”

“Steve. The last thing I need is for you to go home high as hell with your lungs on fire and think I gave you some bad shit. We’re doing it the safe way.”

He finished the joint with practiced hands, sealed the edge, and leaned back against the coffee table. Then he patted the spot on the floor beside him.

“C’mon. Sit. I’ll guide you through the magical world of mellowing out.”

Steve hesitated only a second before sliding off the couch and settling next to him on the rug, shoulder just brushing Eddie’s as he sat.

He could hear Eddie strike the lighter, see the flick of flame out of the corner of his eye.

“Alright, Harrington,” Eddie said, bringing the joint to his lips and taking a slow, practiced drag. He let the smoke curl out from the corner of his mouth before passing it over. “Gentle puff. Don’t hold it like it’s oxygen. Just ease into it.”

Steve took it.

Their fingers brushed.

The joint was warm where Eddie’s mouth had been.

And Steve, despite himself, followed the instructions. Slow inhale. Not too deep. Not too fast.

The burn surprised him. The slight cough that followed, less so.

Eddie laughed again, softer this time. “That’s it. Not bad.”

Steve passed it back, eyes watering a little. “It tastes like a forest lit on fire.”

“You’ll learn to love it.”

Steve huffed, but he didn’t move away.

They sat there in silence for a while, passing it back and forth, knees touching, breaths syncing slowly with the drifting haze in the room.

Part 2

—comment if you wanna be added to this fic taglist

taglist: @steddiethrowaway1 @mangoinacan13

[1stposition]

Ngl can y’all pack up this “stud who couldn’t pick up her gf” trend on tik tok cuz it’s seriously lame as fuck. I know y’all r tryna be funny and I can usually take a joke but I failed to see what’s funny..

Y’all continuously expose yourselves as weirdos because why am I seeing comments full of 101 repackaged homophobia and misogyny???!!! Wrap it up.

All it takes is ONE stud to go viral on the internet for yall to start comparing studs to men, dogpiling them, invalidating their identities, spreading anti-black, misogynistic, and homophobic rhetoric, and start reinforcing toxic ideas of masculinity AND IM SICK OF ITTTTTT.

Bc why the fuck r yall comparing her to jojo siwa?? is yall fuckin for real?????? A lot of yall needa reflect on why y’all hold masculine women to the same standards as cis men QUICKLY

EVERY DAY yall get online bashing stud/butch lesbians and giving hetero mfs the green light to target and shit on them and it fucking infuriates me. It shows that yall view them as a performance, not individuals that have broadly unique relationships with masculinity. Y’all shove your heteronormative standards of masculinity onto studs and put them in a box as if they exist for your amusement.

Leave that woman alone bc it’s seriously getting annoying that we have to keep telling yall to RESPECT MASC LESBIANS. Quit degrading her because YOU’RE insecure about your masculinity and feel the need to belittle someone to feel better about yourself. It’s sad loser behavior. I hope she’s not reading yall hateful ass comments and feeling bad about herself. Y’all know that the shit yall post online can hurt people and it’s fucked up y’all don’t care.

Also idgaf about the “it’s because she got stood up by a man” SOOOO????? What does that have to do with yall projecting your insecurities onto someone else?????? Why do yall hold masc lesbians to this standard of being better than men at everything????? That’s an internal issue, deal w it and stop making it everyone else’s problem.

And to the fems that r hating, I’m disappointed yet again but not surprised bc for whatever reason so many of yall feel the need to make it known u view masc lesbians as inferior to the rest of the community and I will never understand it. Y’all r too dumb to realize how stupid u sound when u say shit like “they sleeping on us fems” bc whooooooo???? Why r yall always competing w studs????? It’s mad weird

Boooo tomatoes tomatoes throwing tomatoes 🍅 👎🏾👎🏾👎🏾👎🏾

And to the mfs that r commenting “she needs to start lifting” “she’s supposed to be strong” ACCORDING TO WHOOOOO???????? LMFAO TF. WHO R UUU????? You’re a fucking nobody talking shit online. Your opinion is irrelevant and holds no value, shut up. Deadass.

Did y’all forget about the existence of disabled studs/butches while typing this nonsense??? It sure sounds like it. It’s ableist as fuck to say that physical strength is the determining factor of masculinity, cuz BULLSHIT. It’s NOT. Someone being unable to lift as much as the average man does NOT discredit their masculinity r u serious??? How someone defines THEIR masculinity is personal and not for u to validate!!

OH!!! -And fuck social expectations!!! NEWFLASH: NOBODY HAS TO CONFORM TO ANY EXPECTATIONS SOCIETY FORCES UPON THEM!!! Where tf did the “responsibilities for relationships” part even come from???? A woman (or man) can provide protection and safety for their partner in various ways, not just physical.. but to even assume that someone is incapable of being a protector because they’re not physically strong is FALSE!!! Log off!!! This is textbook ableism and ignorance at its finest

I swear if y’all just picked up a book or read an article on the complexity of stud/butch lesbians we wouldn’t need to constantly address this shit. Y’all wouldn’t call butchfemme dynamics heteronormative. Honestly, if yall just started using common fucking sense and minding your business that would solve majority of the problem. It doesn’t take a genius to tell u that masculinity is a made up concept and that it can be anything u want it to be, not just the shitty patriarchal version y’all push onto people.

I also wanna clarify I’m aware that the girl who posted the original video stated that the stud is NOT her gf and that she wishes yall would stop bashing her and gtfo out her comment section (rightfully so). I just wanted to speak out about this video that’s been circling around recently bc I’m sick of y’all disrespecting stud/butch lesbians

And real quick since the straight men think they’re hot shit for shitting on masc women and lesbians - especially shut the fuck up. Ty.

To all the studs and butches (disabled included) reading this, I want u to always remember how important your existence is to this world. I look up to u with so much admiration and gratitude. I’m happy I get to experience living on the same planet with such amazing, beautiful souls like yours. Fuck what anyone else says, stay true to yourself and continue inspiring all the baby gays and butches out there. There’s a community that cherishes u and has your back forever. I love u x 💋

[mossangelll]

Work-Life Balance 🖥️

toxic!homelander x reader

[what happens when homelander develops a crush on his personal assistant only to find out that his feelings aren’t reciprocated?]

word count: 5k

cw: slight yandere, toxic behaviour, inappropriate work relationship, s*xual harassment, workplace harassment, homophobia, lesbophobia, threats of violence, implied violence, reader is fem, might be typos/grammar mistakes (hasn’t been proofread)

i just realised i’ve hit 562 followers which is so crazy to me! i haven’t celebrated any follower milestones on here but i really want to give back to everyone that’s supported me so give me ideas of what we can do to celebrate!! <3 ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

“All-American Superheroes, born and bred in the land of the free and working to protect the interests of god fearing patriots like you across the country!”

Yeah right.

You internally roll your eyes as you look away from the giant screen in the foyer that blasted this propaganda day and night, scanning your access badge and going up the elevator with your tray of coffees.

Working at Vought quickly shattered any illusions you had about supes in record time; just like any other person, you had grown up hearing about how brave and kind these heroes were to protect us regular folk.

Supes, despite everything you thought you knew from childhood, aren’t good people - who could’ve guessed that unchecked powers would turn people into entitled monsters?

It’s bad enough when your higher ups expect you to cater to their every whim without so much as a please or thank you, it’s even worse when said higher up has the power to squash you like a bug as easily as breathing - and they don’t mind getting their shoes dirty.

You check your watch and find yourself worrying your lip between your teeth. Can’t be too late or you won’t hear the end of it. Thankfully even though Ashley is an annoyance she can’t just kill you and make it seem like nothing ever happened.

God, it’s not even normal to be thinking like this. Maybe quitting wouldn’t be the worst idea, huh?

Ding!

The doors open and you bolt out as quickly as you can, not wanting to face Ashley’s wrath or risk her breaking down about her hair loss again, it’s not even 8am yet an-

You collide with what feels like a brick wall. It might as well be with the way you stop dead in your tracks from the sheer force and the recoil causes the hot coffee to spill all over your surroundings.

You look up to see what the obstacle was, probably an intern gawking at some random supe in the hallway.

It’s The Homelander. Tall and statuesque, just his mere presence demands respect and you’ve covered him in hot coffee.

Oh god, please let this be some horrible nightmare you’ll wake up from any minute now.

“You sure know how to make an entrance! Maybe try not to ruin the suit next time though, yeah?” His blue eyes twitch and you can see his sharp canines make an entrance in his plastic smile.

Your mouth gapes open like a fish and despite all the thoughts racing through your head, no words make it out of your mouth. Get it together! Still, your knees threaten to buckle from panic as you decide the correct course of action that won’t get you maimed or worse.

“Are you listening to me, uh, Y/N?” He squints at your name badge before saying your name with a slight edge, all for show of course considering his eyesight must be, well, superhuman.

This has its intended affect as it jolts you back to the present. “Oh my god, Homelander! I am so sorry about this - I wasn’t paying attention and it’s all my fault,” You place the tray to the floor and immediately begin working on dabbing up the coffee stains that ruined his suit with spare napkins, “I’ll even pay for the damage, they could just take it out my pay check?”

“The suit costs more than you make in a year.” The blood drains from your face and your hands falter in their movements before he flashes a grin, “I’m joking! Smart girl like you knows what a joke is surely.”

You let out a weak laugh.

——————————————————————————

Ever since you bumped into him it feels like no matter where you go, Homelander is always there. His gaze conveniently catches yours as you greet colleagues, his eyes soon turning sharp as he barks orders to whoever you were talking to. Sometimes they even get transferred to other departments and even if it seems far fetched a part of you wonders if it’s his doing.

Every assignment you’re put on seems to involve him in some capacity and it would be ok if he wasn’t trying to talk to you constantly. It got to the point that even other people noticed and started to distance themselves from you, not that it seemed to bother Homelander.

Once again you find yourself stood in front of Ashley’s desk, placing down her lunch order and handing over the meeting briefings she asked for yesterday.

“Ok, well if that’s everything I’ll be off!”

God, you hate working corporate. Having to smile so wide it hurts your cheeks when all you want to do is just sit down for once.

You turn on your heels but stop right before the door as you hear Ashley cough. Subtle.

Shoulders deflating, you prepare yourself mentally and turn back around with another diabetes-inducing smile to find the red-head clasping and unclasping her hands before taking a rushed sip of her coffee.

“Shit, that’s hot.” She mumbles under her breath, hand covering her mouth before she clears her throat again and sits up straighter. Sure, she can have her moments but it’s times like these when you realise that maybe she’s just like you: tired, overworked, run ragged - if the bald spot and deep eye bags are anything to go off.

Ashley steadies her breath and her eyes dart all over the room and you can’t help but think that even this is over the top for her, “You’re going to be over the moon when I tell you that the Homelander wants you as his new personal assistant! Of course, you will still technically be under me.”

You jump in surprise when you hear his name mentioned and try to argue against it, that you only want to work for Ashley but she wasn’t hearing any of it.

“But why?! There’s a ton more knowledgeable employees out there that would be better suited for him!” You throw your hands up in exasperation as Ashley pauses, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes.

“Y/N do you like having a job or what?! Now I’ve sent some documents to your email; print them out and give them to him.”

You feel lightheaded as the elevator travels higher up than you’ve ever been before, all the way to Homelander’s penthouse.

A part of you wondered why you couldn’t just hand them to him The Seven’s meeting room but you quickly dismiss the thought. You aren’t getting paid enough to question your bosses frankly inconvenient choices constantly.

Thinking you know better than these supes was a quick way to end up in an “unfortunate workplace accident”. You shivered to think of all the poor souls that didn’t know their place.

The elevator stops and you know that any second now you’ll be entering uncharted territory. You heard about his notorious attitude, worse than some of the supes you’ve encountered so far and they’ve been bad. You just hope you make it out alive and he decides he no longer wants anything to do with you.

Calm down, all you have to do is smile, hand him the documents and then you can be on your way, easy.

The doors open and you’re surprised when you see that the Homelander is stood right by the entrance, hands clasped in front of him with a fake smile you could spot from a mile away.

“Oh! H-homelander! I wasn’t expecting you to be so…close?” You grimace but quickly smooth over your expression, shuffling around his body and walking over to the coffee table.

You can’t help but gawk at the impressive room in front of you. You knew they would be spoiling the guy but damn, this is next level.

You can hear his heavy steps trailing behind you, feel his overwhelming presence invade your space before his voice booms throughout the room.

“Thought I’d give my favourite PA a warm welcome!” He brings his arms out to his sides, smile somehow managing to become wider than it was before.

You nod in agreement, not wanting to get on his bad side so quickly into the new job. “Uh, yeah, thank you. These are the papers Ashley said you needed so. If that’s all I’ll be going.”

His smile drops ever so slightly and if you too weren’t so used to putting up facades you wouldn’t have even caught it. He nods and waves his hand to excuse you and you walk as quickly as you can to your escape without seeming scared.

You enter the elevator, eyes glued to the floor, as Homelander calls out to you without warning, “By the way, your ass looks great in those pencil skirts - keep up the great work.”

Your eyes snap up to the mirror in the elevator just in time to lock eyes with his blue ones, a wolffish grin on his face right before the doors shut behind you.

You stand stock-still, staring at your own horrified reflection until you got off at your floor.

——————————————————————————

It could’ve been worse, you tell yourself, he could’ve actually hurt you. But he didn’t, not really.

It’s been months since that incident and you still haven’t found the courage to wear a skirt since. You could tell it made him unhappy and the first day you showed up to work in trousers he had the gall to tsk in your face but at least he didn’t say anything.

However, you did notice that now his eyes strayed down to your lower body more often, lingering there for longer than usual. His eyes both seemingly laser focused and unfocused at the same time, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You didn’t know exactly why but it made you feel like crawling out of your own skin and hiding far, far away from Vought headquarters.

Working under Homelander was difficult to say the least and not because of the horror stories you’d heard whispered in toilet cubicles or written on soon discarded notes in the staff room. He wasn’t violent with you and he rarely shouted, but he was demanding of your time, more than a boss should be at least.

It felt like anytime you spoke to a colleague, especially a man, there he was to reprimand the two of you on the virtues of “doing your jobs and not wasting valuable company time.”

Whenever he did so, his face was contorted in anger and those colleagues always got transferred to different departments, or worse - got into “workplace accidents.”

Then, he started to expect you to spend your lunch breaks with him, then your days off and before you knew it, he was calling you at 1am to “swing by the penthouse” and help him go over his lines or some other bullshit.

Of course, you responded to every beck and call like the good employee you are.

You felt like you were going crazy, like your life suddenly stopped belonging to you and became the property of someone else. Someone who could ruin your life faster and much easier than you could breathe.

And it wasn’t only affecting your work life, but your personal life - your romantic life.

Living with your girlfriend, Mia, was supposed to be the dream arrangement; you both saved on rent while getting to be together more often. What more could you ask for? And it was for a time, truly it was.

But this new role working for Homelander took precedence over everything else that was once so important to you. You cancelled dates, you skipped movie nights, you weren’t home early enough to say “good night” and “I love you” anymore.

The guilt tore you up inside; after all, Mia moved to your city because she knew how important your job was to you and what do you go and do? Neglect her like her sacrifice meant nothing.

She deserves better than someone who comes home late every night and is gone before the sun has even risen just to be a slave to their work.

Today’s your rare day off and still you can’t enjoy it in fear that Homelander will call you and get you to do some stupid task an intern could do.

You can already hear his high and mighty voice ringing in your head, “Go to this cafe and get this annoyingly specific drink, Y/N.”

Or, “Y/N, I pay for you to give me precise details and this isn’t good enough, go print these out again.”

He’s not even the one that pays you!

You shake your head as if to tamp down your irritation and instead reach over the bed to caress the smooth contours of your lover’s face, taking in each blemish, the fluttering of her lashes, the way she murmurs softly as if even in her sleep all she wants to do is be close to you.

You worry that soon your girlfriend will come to the same conclusion you have, if she hasn’t already, and leave you for a woman who is better than you in every way.

You wouldn’t blame her; she’s gorgeous, smart, headstrong and so incredibly kind it makes your heart hurt.

Well, at the very least you can show your appreciation for her by making her breakfast in bed. You get ready for the morning in the bathroom before shuffling over to your small kitchen, searching the fridge for ingredients you know aren’t there.

You peek your head around the bedroom door to find your girlfriend still snoring. She won’t wake up for another hour or so which gives you perfect time to get supplies.

——————————————————————————

Perhaps running errands wasn’t how you wanted to start your off-day but you’ve had enough of being jaded. You get to spend the day with your girl and show her how much you love her!

You make your way to the new organic store your friends told you about, determined to make a tasty and healthy meal - Mia’s favourite. You peruse the aisles and make quick work of getting what you need, ticking off your internal checklist as you go.

You pay (and grimace at the amount of money you know is going to hurt coming out of your account) and start making your way home. The sun is shining, birds are singing and you are in an unusually good mood. You even start to hum to yourself until you catch sight of your worst fear.

Who else is it but Homelander.

You watch as he flies through the neighbourhood and lands right next to you - of course donning a smile too wide for this time of morning to be natural.

“What are the odds I bump into my favourite personal assistant! You sure look…cosy.” He eyes your less than professional attire, a worn hoodie and sweats that have definitely seen better days.

You’re too fed up to even feel embarrassed and the judgemental edge to his voice serves to annoy you further so you correct him, “Your only personal assistant.”

He deflects your words with ease, maybe his brain is like his skin and he’s just too dense to pick up on your exasperation at his arrival.

It could just be your imagination but it feels like everything around you has suddenly become dull the moment he appeared. You watch as he opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you to do some mind numbingly boring job that a grown man should be capable of, but cut him off. It’s your day off and you refuse to spend it working for him.

“I’m sorry but I’ve got a super busy day. I’ll check in tomorrow.” You’re aware of how sour your tone comes across but why should you bother trying to spare his feelings when you’re not even getting paid for it?

You wave and rush back home before he could try and guilt trip you into staying. Once you find yourself back in the kitchen, you’re surprised at the fact that he just let you go so easily. Better not to think too much on it.

Breakfast is finished and plated on a tray as you walk to the bedroom to find your girlfriend already awake and scrolling through her email.

“Babe, you’re back! I was wondering where you went.” Her voice is rough with sleep and you can’t help the butterflies that bloom in your stomach.

You place the tray of french toast, fruit and water on her lap and kiss her cheek delicately.

“Well,” you start, “Just thought I should apologise for being absent so much recently.”

Her eyes soften as she hugs you tightly and all you want is for this moment to last forever. She digs in her food and you both make idle chit-chat, luxuriating in your joint happiness and peace. That is until you bring up your earlier encounter.

It’s not like you meant to bring work back into the fold but a part of your brain itches at Homelander’s odd appearance and before you know it, it turns into a full blown rant.

Mia rolls her eyes before shoving away the tray of half finished food. Uh oh. She folds her arms over her chest as her eyes well up with unshed tears and it’s clear that you’ve ruined what was meant to be a romantic day.

“God, Y/N! It seems like all you care about nowadays is your job and Homelander. Don’t you think that’s unhealthy? Don’t you care about me anymore?”

So many thoughts and unsaid emotions rush through your mind but before you can begin to apologise and explain the insane stress you’ve been under, you get a notification on your phone.

Homelander: There’s a very important meeting tonight in my penthouse with some of the board. Wear a nice dress.

You want to ignore the message and focus on your girlfriend but you can’t. The struggle must be evident in your eyes because she scoffs and gets up from the bed, meal all but forgotten.

“Forget it, I’m gonna stay at a friend’s place tonight.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen her look so defeated before and knowing that you caused it makes you feel nauseous.

You try your best to bargain with Mia but she’s gone and left you to pick up the pieces. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Either way, you have no time to be sad - you have a meeting to prepare for.

——————————————————————————

You smooth over the invisible wrinkles in your satin skirt. After all, you brushed off Homelander and you don’t need anymore strikes against yourself.

The doors open to a familiar sight, except this time instead of the harsh lighting you’re accustomed to. It’s softer, more delicate. If you didn’t know any better you might even say romantic.

Somebody dimmed the overhead lights and stuck candles all over the place, there were even rose petals strewn across the floor that led to the dining table.

Weird, but maybe he has a date immediately after this and won’t have enough time to prepare once the meeting lets out.

Your heels echo on the marble floor as you make your way to the kitchen to find The Homelander, still in his signature suit, waiting at the head of the table. He seems nervous in his own strange way and you have to knock on a nearby pillar to get his attention.

“Hey, Homelander.” You say unsure of yourself as your head swivels around only to find the place devoid of any other employees who should’ve been present.

“Am I early to the meeting or…?”

“Meeting?” He seems to re-enter reality with that one word, “Ah, that little old thing. Don’t worry about it just yet.”

He manages to hone in on your hesitance with hawk-like precision and gestures to the bottle of wine on the countertop near you, “Go on, pour yourself a glass of wine.”

You do as he says, thankful for the opportunity to turn away from his penetrating stare whilst still aware that what he said wasn’t a suggestion but an order, and pour out a small serving.

“A little bit more won’t hurt ya!” You bristle where you stand - can he see through you? Despite not wanting anymore you pick up the bottle and continue pouring until he says “perfect”.

Slowly turning around, you walk to the table and sit down across from him. You don’t know whether to face him head on or dart your eyes everywhere but his face. You choose to drink your wine instead and peek up at him over the rim of the glass - an option sat comfortably in the middle that helps calm your nerves.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself there, missy.” He winks boyishly as he says this, as if you two are friends having casual banter and that’s enough to make you pause mid-sip and place your glass down on the dining table.

The elevator dings and you look to it in relief; finally, the others are here to save you from this god-awful situation.

So, imagine your surprise when it turns out to be Ashley juggling bags of takeout from a restaurant way outside of your price budget.

You want to question why she’s alone, why she’s dropping off food instead of joining the meeting, why she looks downright scared as she watches the two of you.

You turn to Homelander with furrowed brows but he simply ignores you and instructs Ashley to plate the food for the two of you.

“I guess it’s just us three ready for the meeting, huh?” You laugh under your breath but quickly stop as you catch the confused look on Ashley’s face, though it quickly disappears when Homelander gives her a harsh glare.

“Oooh, about that it got um, cancelled?” She sounds like she knows even less than you do despite being the CEO and that makes the pit in your stomach grow larger by the second.

She finishes plating the food and hurries away leaving just you and Homelander at opposite ends to eat your meals quietly.

He’s eager to break silence and asks about your family, where they live, childhood pets and other similar banal questions that it reminds you of when you were younger and the conversation you had during your many unsuccessful first dates with boys in your class. Still, it’s almost endearing how hooked he seems to be to your answers, laughing at even the most basic family game night stories.

It goes by like this for a while before he sets his knife and fork down and links his hands together.

“Well Y/N, I bet you’re wondering exactly what you’re doing here. It’s not easy for me to say but…I lied about the meeting. I have feelings for you and I wanted to ask if you would be interested in a relationship. With me.”

You immediately choke on your bite of food, reaching for the glass of wine and taking a healthy swig to stop choking.

This seems to please Homelander and he laughs, more real than you’ve ever heard before as he steamrolls right past the interruption.

“Hah, well that’s one way to get my focus.”

You stare at him in disbelief at what’s happening; you don’t want him to continue to misread your signals. You let in a shaky breath as you prepare to let down your boss who is also the most powerful supe in the world. You can’t exactly lie, can you?

“Um, that’s not exactly it,” you pause to carefully choose your words as you take in the slight changes in his facial expressions, the way the bridge of his nose seems to tense and his smile dulls despite not moving an inch, “It’s just that I have a girlfriend. I’m, y’know, a lesbian.”

It’s as if someone has removed all the oxygen from the room, or maybe you just stopped breathing, as you unwittingly enter a staring contest with Homelander. Is he going to fire you? Or worse, kill you?

But then he laughs.

It’s a loud guffaw that reaches every corner of his opulent penthouse, he even goes as far as to tilt his head back and laugh some more like he doesn’t have enough room to let out all of his laughter.

You start to giggle along too, some of your anxiety flittering away as your hands mess around with the cutlery, unsure of what exactly comes next.

“I’m surprised you never realised, my purse has a carabiner on it and everything.”

You don’t know why you said that, but a part of you just wanted to ease the remaining tension until it’s like it was never there in the first place.

It’s all just one big misunderstanding and we’ll laugh about it in the future, right?

The laughter begins to taper off and he once again locks eyes with you, the wooden smile on his face still stretching at the skin of his cheeks uncomfortably.

It’s downright uncanny to watch.

He raises his eyebrows as he mouths out a wow and downs the rest of his glass and you do the same, mirroring his nonchalant manner the best you can.

“You know what’s funny to me?” He begins in a lazy drawl and you shake your head in response, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you let a small smile break the surface. Maybe the wine really is getting to you.

“It’s that you’re not one of those hot little college girls anymore, you’re a grown woman for christ sake. You can stop with the experimenting. Don’t you think it’s time you settled down and found a real man?” He says it in such a deadpan tone it takes your mind a second to register what exactly he said.

Time pauses for just a second, allowing you an eternity to study the cruel glimmer in his eye before the erratic beating that swelled in your chest explodes and brings you back to the present.

You blink once. Then twice.

“E-excuse me?” Your voice cracks despite how hard you try to sound brave and self-assured. You can already feel your cheeks growing hot and the pressure behind your eyes begin to build.

He raises both hands in mock defense and watches you with his beady eyes, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m the biggest ally around but trust me, you’re confused. Why else would you wear those slutty skirts to work if you’re not trying to attract men? I know how women work.” He chuckles through a clenched jaw and a flash of white-hot rage runs through your body and wracks your very core.

You place your hands under the table so he can’t see how hard you’re shaking. Or maybe he can - who knows the extent of his powers.

“I’m sorry but I’m not attracted to men, I have a girlfriend and I thought the carabiner on my ba-” You begin rattling off all kinds of nonsensical reasons just as his right hand balls into a fist and slams into the dining table so harshly it fucking splinters.

You take that as a sign to shut up now.

His left hand drags down his face as he groans, “Stop with the fucking carabiner! Why would I know anything about that lesbian shit?!” His words are dripping in condescension and disdain.

“No, no,” he wags a gloved finger in front of you, gleaming white teeth bared like a predator waiting to strike, “You. Are. Confused. I’ve dated one of those before and you are not it.”

Tears are openly streaming down your face yet you don’t even have the guts to wipe them away considering how viciously the tremors travel across your body and he laughs at your terror.

“Remind me, where did you say your parents live? And oh yeah, your friends?” You both know that he isn’t just listing off these facts for fun, he’s threatening you and you hate how much it’s working.

He didn’t even have to go to the crime department and force them to dig up info on you, you’ve already given it to him willingly like the idiot you are.

“I can kill everyone you love in a blink of an eye, Y/N. Don’t test me. I will make them suffer and you will watch.”

You gasp and a shaky hand clasps over your mouth, trying and failing to muffle the sounds of your hysterical wails.

“What do you think happened to those friends of yours, huh? I didn’t know I had to be keeping an eye out for the women too but that works out better - it will always be just the two of us. Do you understand me?”

He claps his hands with a resounding laugh before he stands up from the table and walks around until he reaches your end.

He waits behind you as his hands press down on your shoulders. A feather light touch but you know it must take a lot of self-control for him to not crush you beneath his fingers. Homelander bends down until his lips ghost the shell of your ear and you can feel a golden strand fall loose from its gelled back style and tickle your neck.

“So, whaddaya say? Will you be mine?” You don’t even need to turn around to see the smarmy grin that must be plastered on his face; consequences don’t exist for him and if he wants you, he will have you. He doesn’t wait for your answer before his lips dive to your neck, nipping and licking at the sensitive skin there in a way that’s meant to be seductive but just makes you dry heave instead.

His grip on your shoulders tightens ever so slightly and it jolts you into action, nodding ‘yes’ erratically as you sob out into the night where only the echoes of your cries and his lips on your neck can comfort you.

Your work-life balance is about to get fucked.

masterlist

a/n: i’ve been on a teeeeeny bit of a hiatus (mental health issues, uni, blah blah blah) but now that i only have a few exams to do before i’m officially free for the summer, i thought i’d try and get back into writing! i have SO many requests to get through but i’ll open them up again - i need fresh inspo! this was super fun to write and i enjoyed it so much…why is it easier to write fanfics than actual assignments 🙃 (p.s can someone help me with tumblr spacing issues 😭)