#Back in the Loop (1996) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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i love you (always forever) pt. 2

Daryl Dixon x sister!ofc (Ladybug)

Summary: In the winter of ‘95 Daddy died. Leaving Lady to finish up her senior year in high school, and Daryl to brood over when to sell the house. The summer of ‘96 is the first time Lady feels alive. Daryl wants to give her one last summer before she has to grow up for real.

Setting: bumblefuck Georgia, doublewide in the woods, Dixon Property. Late June 1996.

Warnings: INCEST, poorly written SMUT, hardcore mackin’, dry-humping, oral (all around & a lot), size!kink (explicit discussion of how big daryl is compared to Lady), public stuff, fingering.

Word count: 7.2k (ish)

A/n: some things to note; Lady is 18, it’s mentioned in part 1 but I feel like I should still say that she’s not underage. Also, I feel like this has some pacing problems (more notes at the end) ?? Stuff that’s italicized in purple is dialogue being said in the movie they’re watching. Good luck guys

18+ mdni

// Part 1 //

I just keep on having all these strange thoughts.

What kind of thoughts?

Just thoughts.

Funny thoughts about you and me.

Tell me.

I couldn't.

They're just thoughts.

They don't mean anything.

Lady, in the face of picking a movie for such an occasion, had put on Blue Lagoon. It was one of momma’s and it wasn’t like she had such a big selection to choose from, just a bunch of made for TV movies momma had recorded and a few tapes Merle had stolen from the video store.

Lady doesn’t understand subtlety anyway.

You’re always staring at my buppies.

Only because they look so funny.

Lady didn’t necessarily like the movie because it was cousins, just the feeling it gave her. She put it on thinking maybe Daryl might feel it too. The lightning coming from inside to throb at the surface.

She’s surprised she’s still even breathing. Knowing he’s just waiting for her to do something. But he’d said… Lady knows the move she has to make is to kiss him. That’s what he’d meant. That's what people do first, before anything else.

Kiss him? Lady’s frozen; how would she even do that? She doesn’t know. Can’t figure out for the life of her what she’d do with her hands, how does she even get closer? What about her legs? Where is everything supposed to go?!

Lady would do it, she’d be on him already, if she could just figure out how.

“Bubba-“ her voice is soft. Too soft for Daryl to hear it.

Daryl’s nursing his 6th beer. Or maybe 7th. He’s getting pretty lost in all of everything that was happening with Lady. Up in his own head in an effort to definitely and absolutely not think about what was happening now. Whatever move Lady was trying to pull here with him putting on this tape. Of all the ones she could have picked.

Daryl’s gone a million miles away. Thinking about what had happened this morning. Again. Staring at the television unblinking as if it were projecting images of her. Lady and her sweet pink lips asking if she could touch him again. Her ass bouncing under her towel. And the way she didn’t even bat an eye when he came on her face. He feels like he’s fucking dying. His insides all twisted up. Gotta be because he knows it’s wrong. Definitely that and not because he really wants to feel her mouth again. Not because he wants to watch this time, and tell her how good she’s doing. Definitely. Not. That.

Kiss me.

You're all sticky.

So what? Kiss me.

Every time he does stop to feel bad about it he remembers that he didn’t even do anything. Lady did. Lady had asked for a kiss goodnight, and Lady had put her hands and her tongue on his cock while she thought he was sleeping. Daryl figures it’s not his fault he can’t stop thinking about what Lady did. With her soft-as-a-kitten hands and her sweet wet mouth. Fuck.

Completely stuck in this loop, he watches it repeat on the TV screen. Forgetting the reason he’d dissociated in the first place, the thing he was gonna be coming back to? Lady; probably definitely obviously wanting to do it again.

“Hey, Bub -“ Lady tries to get his attention one more time. “Daryl!” she claps her hands together so hard her palms burn.

Daryl blinks back to reality. “Huh?” he says it like a shrug.

The pause between getting his attention and what she was about to say is an eternity.

“Can I kiss you?” Lady, feeling so brave and still so so small against how special she knew this memory would be.

Daryl's heart doesn’t skip a beat, his breath doesn’t get caught in his throat. He looks down at the bottle he’s holding, trying not to smile, and shakes his head at her in amusement. He knows that if anyone else had heard what she was asking to do, if Daddy had heard? She’d be getting the whooping of a lifetime right now. But to Daryl it just sounds like something he knew she was gonna say. At least she didn’t say the word cock again, “Why, though? Why d’ya wanna? M’not even a good kisser, Bug. Can’t teach ya nothin’.”

Lady chews on the side of her lip, her head faced directly toward him while her eyes look anywhere else. Thinking of what to say, how to tell him. The words, her feelings, all jumbled up inside and trying to break out. She wants to be flirty and cute and romantic and have the one answer that would take away all his worries and shame and just be the brother she was used to. The one who aided in every scheme or plot or game she was playing. She pleads with her mouth to be fucking smooth. Be glib or flip or cool or sly or something. It’s not. Instead it vomits all her thoughts like she’d been choking on them.

“I was gonna ask if I could practice kissing on you. Ya know? Because I figured then you mighta felt like maybe you oughta. But then that felt too much like lyin’. Cuz I don’t wanna kiss for practice, Dar. I wanna kiss for real.” She stops to breathe, but there’s no second-guessing. “I just don’t understand what’s the big deal? I know it’s not allowed but I want to.” She finally looks at him, her voice serious, “I just want to and I don't get why you don't want to too.”

They both know she’s not just talking about kissing. “Jus’ not s’possed ta, Lay. ‘m s’possed t’keep ya safe.”

Lady looks at him like he’s lost his fuckin’ mind. Where was she ‘unsafe’? He wasn’t making any sense to her. She stands up and chugs the rest of the now warm drink. “You’re not makin’ any damn sense, Daryl, I am safe.”

Lady’s frustrated but she’s not heartbroken. Leaving the fort/living room to go to the kitchen and get another drink. Muttering to herself the whole way out of the room, “Why the fuck wouldn’t I ‘be safe’? What does that even mean? Stupid dumbass horseshit doesn’t even make any fuckin’ sense. Shit. Ass. Shit!”

Sometimes when Lady got real good and mad she’d turn into a little version of Merle. Same way Daryl did when he was angry. Same way Merle turned into a little version of their daddy. When Lady did it though, it wasn’t scary. Just was funny. Lady, so little and so angry and too damn sweet to actually say anything mean. Just strings of curse words and questions to no one.

She opens the fridge with an exaggerated sigh meant for Daryl to hear. Staring at the two wine coolers left, unsure if she actually wants another one. She thinks about what he’d said again. Keep her safe!? It was starting to sound like a lie. She clacks the underside of her knuckles against the fridge door and lets out another noise. A groan or a warble or shiver with a voice. Daryl isn’t sure what she's going on about but it makes him laugh from the other room.

Lady decides against having another wine cooler. instead fixing to steal Daryl’s joint from his pack of smokes and figure out if he was lying about being ‘cross-faded’ or whatever he’d called it. Maybe if she smoked, just a little, she’d be able to figure out the magic words. Lady steps just outside the front door quietly, hoping Daryl would get zoned out again and not come looking.

💕

Daryl’s still sipping at his beer and waiting for Lady to come back. Trying to find his own set of magic words to answer her question. Knowing without any doubt that he’s fucked, absolutely completely totally fucking fucked, the second he stops being able to come up with any reason at all.

💕

Daryl finds Lady sitting out on the front step. Her knees hugged up to her chest, she’s leaning forward and ripping grass from the ground. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it just as fast. Deciding instead to walk down and post up next to her.

Lady moves to make room for him but doesn’t acknowledge him more than that. Daryl feels around on the ground for the roach he knows he’s going to find because he can smell it. Once he does he brings it up to her face, “Ya smoke this?”

“Aliens. Just missed ‘em,” laughing to herself.

He puts the joint between his lips, smiling and feeling for his lighter somewhere in his pockets, “Yer real funny, bug.” His mind’s somewhere else. Doesn’t care that she didn’t listen and smoked the pot after drinking. She was safe. She was always safe.

Daryl takes a drag just a little too long and coughs out the exhale. Passing the joint to Lady while he’s working through it. She takes it, hitting it gently this time, and manages not to cough at all.

They just sit together for a while, watching the moon come out from its hiding place behind the clouds. Lady feels the shimmering faeries all over her skin, in her stomach. She can see them in the moonlight in her brothers eyes.

Lady’s been looking at him. Can’t seem to stop. Just staring at the small space between his jaw and his ear and the curl of hair that didn’t belong there. “You gonna grow it out now that Daddy’s dead?”

He moves his chin in a nod, just barely, “Think so.”

Her hand flits to the spot, taking the same strands she’d been staring at between her fingertips. It had only been a few months but his hair was longer than she’d ever seen it. Daryl moves his head to look at her. He didn’t mean to move in a way that put her fingers just so gently against his cheek, but it was too late.

They share a look in the same way they’d shared the silence - both of them knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Both of them thinking exactly the same thing. Daryl knows what she meant when she said she wanted to kiss for real. That she just wanted to feel it.

Lady and Daryl both move like they’re going to go for it at the same time. Lady stops. Her heart is in her throat and the faeries are buzzing right out of her body. Had she seen that right? Was he really about to?

Daryl doesn't let her hesitation stop him, leaning over and taking her lips with his own the way she’d wanted the first time she’d asked. A real kiss. Slow and passionate and on purpose. He’s in his right mind but he’s not thinkin’. Just doin’.

Lady eagerly returns every move of his lips with her own. Getting acquainted with the feeling and starting to understand the rhythm of it.

Daryl was lying before when he’d told her he wasn’t any good at kissing. He holds her still by the back of her neck, moving into her deeper. Lady opens her mouth the instant she feels his tongue slip across her lip.

One second they’re kissing under the moon; and it’s taboo and it’s ‘wrong’ but it’s almost innocent. Still so sweet, and filled with uncertainty —-

and then their tongues meet.

And they turn into something else.

Lady moans just at the feeling of his wet something touching her wet something. Daryl’s never heard her make a noise like that before and it ignites a new part of him. He needs to hear it again. To feel it again. Lady’s perfect sweet voice coming apart against him.

They’re immeshed. Their mouths moving against and with eachother, deeper and faster and with more everything. Like they were eating eachother alive. Legs knocking together, Lady’s clawing at his shirt and when Daryl moves his other hand around her waist she moans again, shaking.

He pushes his tongue almost all the way to the back of her throat. Even with them closed, Lady can feel her eyes rolling back into her head. Moaning again into his mouth, but this time it comes from somewhere deeper.

His fingers squeeze into her a little harder before he pulls away again. Just lookin’ at her. Eyes closed and trembling. “C’mon.” He pulls on her hand a little to get her attention, all lost in herself.

Lady knows he wants to get inside and probably back to the a/c but she's afraid once this moments over she’s gonna have to try and convince him for 5 more hours to let her do it again, “I don’t wanna go inside, I wanna stay out here kissin’ you.”

“Can kiss insi’, bug.”

She’s beaming, fished her wish and then won the fuckin’ jackpot. “For real?”

“C’mon.” Daryl gets up with Lady right behind. Before now it had always been the other way around.

💕

The second they get to the living room they melt back together. Not even one step past the sheet Daryl grabs her wrist and pulls her into him again. He doesn’t want to wait for either one of them to get stuck up in their heads again. It was too late anyway.

Doesn’t want to think about Lady. Wants to feel her. Needs to beg that tremble from her vocal chords again.

He pulls her down to the bed and on top of him. Helping her place her legs on either side of his hips. Focusing in on how soft her thighs are underneath his fingertips, he squeezes.

Lady pulls back, looking down at his hands so high up her thighs, his thumb dangerously close to her heat. She's beyond comprehending the things he’s making her body feel. A light almost inaudible gasp escapes her as he squeezes again, but that's not what Daryl wants to hear.

Daryl isn't thinking about the fact that Lady's never done any of this stuff before, he's not even thinking about the fact that it's Lady who's ontop of him. It's Lady that he's touching. Sweet little girl Lady, who'd barely even been kissed before just now. He's staring at the space between her thighs. Her tiny sleep shorts riding up her pussy and he can make out every detail through the thin fabric, lips spread and almost spilling out the sides. Daryl forgets for a second where he is, moving his thumb over just an inch, pressing hard into her clit through her shorts.

Lady let's out a surprised cry, her hips bucking forward into him, her body falling down with two hands flat against his chest. Daryl's cock twitches at the sound and Lady feels it right at her entrance. Her head shoots up and all of a sudden they’re looking each other in the eyes. With all the lights on.

In this moment, there's no hesitation. No question of if they should or shouldn't be doing this. The look shared between them is only comfort. Lady, knowing it’s Daryl, knowing he’d never let her do something the wrong way.

And when Daryl sees that blown out sparkle in Lady’s eye? Knows that look. She wants him. And if Lady wants it? Can't be ugly. Just can't.

It's only two seconds, but it's everything.

Lady's mouth is back on Daryl's like it had never left, her tongue pushing through to his the instant they come together. His hands move to her hips, grinding her down into him. She can feel him, hard like when she had seen it pushing through his boxers. Now hard and pushing up into her. The feeling, the thought, groaning into his mouth at all of it.

He does it again. And again and again. Pulling her and pushing her over his clothed length as she assaults his mouth. Her tongue and lips slowly losing rhythm until she moves herself to suck and bite on his neck instead. The noises coming out of her are the most precious he’s ever heard.

Eventually Lady starts moving her hips on her own, and Daryl can feel the bump of her hard clit as she grinds herself on top of him.

Lady’s got one hand behind his neck and the other gripping at the fabric of his shirt like it's going to save her. She’s humping her brother like sometimes she humps her pillow, hips moving in deliberate circles, so close to an orgasm she can taste it. Soft light mews coming from her lips in breaths. She can't look at him, she wants to forget he's even there. She's embarrassed. But she cums anyway.

Cascading through her limbs before tiding back to make room for the shame. Her hips won't stop shaking and she's afraid to look at him.

Daryl’s high on the whole fucking experience. Watching, feeling, hearing Lady come apart ontop of him.

Daryl's going to hell. Knows it and doesn't care. Something about it being his sister is sending him over the fucking edge. Of course it was gonna. Kissing is one thing. Being used for your cock so your little sister can hump you until she cums is something else.

He pulls her up against his body a few inches. Weaving his fingers through her hair to hold the back of her neck, he kisses her forehead. Smiling deviously against her skin, “Y’wanna make me cum again?”

Daryl had only ever been comfortable talking to one girl like that, and that was a real long time ago. But with Lady he didn't have anything to hide or be worried about. Knows she's gonna say yes, knows she'd get mad if he'd wanted to and hadn’t asked her.

Any embarrassment Lady had been feeling is forgotten like she'd never felt it in the first place. She sits up. Looking down at her fingers as they play with the fabric of his tee-shirt all bunched up against his stomach. “With my mouth?” she asks with a coy smile.

“Only f’ya wanna.”

“Well, is that what you meant?” she looks him in the eye, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, s’what I meant.” he nods, gliding a hand from one thigh, over her stomach, and then onto the other one. His other hand reaching behind her body to squeeze her ass. Daryl’s not worried about being too forward. Not thinkin’, just doin’.

Lady shivers under his touch, his needful hands feel so much better than the ones she'd imagined. Never thought it would feel so much bigger than skin on skin and different kinds of pressure. To be desired? To be touched simply because he wanted to and couldn't help himself — it radiates into her soul.

“I wanna.” She nods with a whisper, moving off of him to sit and wait.

Daryl gets up and falls back into the couch, beckoning Lady over with a nod of his head. As she crawls towards him Daryl’s working on his belt, his button, his zipper, but he’s just staring at her. God, even his ex-girlfriend never looked that desperate to suck his cock.

Lady was chomping at the fuckin’ bit waiting to taste him again. Sitting between his legs, staring. Waiting. He finally works himself free, and Lady is melting into a puddle of drool. She sits up on her knees to get closer, but Daryl’s stroking himself slowly and she’s never seen something so…

With Daryl leaned back and looking at her like that, doing that. She’s never seen anything so fucking hot. Doesn’t even have another word to describe it. So. Fucking. Hot. So goddamn fucking hot that it rewires her brain chemistry.

Daryl smirks, which to Lady just makes it hotter, he can’t believe she’s watching like this. He can’t believe how much he’s getting off on her watching. Never did this in front of a girl, not even his ex-girlfriend, and they’d done everything.

“S’what? Don’ wanna use tha’ mouth yet?”

She shakes her head quickly, but her eyes are fixed, “I do, I do.” She opens her mouth like she’s gonna keep talking but closes it. Daryl notices the way her eyes go big and seem to sparkle when he gets to the bottom of his stroke. He holds himself around the base and lets the full heavy length of his cock wave back and forth.

Lady’s so turned on that the, “Holy shit,” she’s thinking tumbles out of her mouth and into the air.

Daryl, with his fingers still firmly gripping around the base, directs himself down toward her. His cockhead only centimeters from her open mouth. “A’least spit on it, bug.”

She’s so mesmerized, she doesn’t look up, “For real?”

“For real, gimme a good one like I taught ya.”

She haucks a good one right on the tip, only an inch away from her mouth. He pulls himself up and out of her immediate reach again, using her spit to coat his aching appendage. Daryl wasn’t really jerking off, just showing off for Lady. Honestly? He was torturing himself.

Now, covered in wet saliva, Lady can see every glimmering detail. Every ridge and vein and he’s holding himself tight again, it’s so fucking big. “Is everyones this big?”

Daryl gives an unexpected laugh, “S’not tha’ big, bug.”

She reaches her hand out and wraps her fingers around him, just above his hand. Daryl groans at the feeling of her. She’s trying to figure out if she can close her hand around him, but apparently she can’t, “Look, Dar, my fingers don’t even touch.”

“Fuck,” the word comes out just like the groan. Lady likes hearing Daryl like this. All a mess because of her.

She smiles before biting her lip, “It’s thicker than my wrist, bubba.”

“Is it?” He asks her, with a playful smirk. He only asked to get her to prove it. When she lets go of his erection to hold her wrist next to it for comparison Daryl grabs her grabs her hand. Pulling her arm up by her palm he measures his dick next to the length of her forearm. Jesus fucking goddamn Christ.

Lady, after being thrown off by him grabbing her like that, just gawks. They’re the same fucking size. His cock and her whole fucking forearm. “What the fuck?!”

“‘m big n’all but Lady, yer little.” He lets her have her arm back but she’s still just holding it up next to him trying to figure it out. How was that ever gonna fit inside her?

“It didn’t look that big this morning.”

“Don’ gotta be scared. F’ya wanna stop, we can.”

“No! No,” she puts her hand back around him, “don’t wanna stop.”

Daryl’s hand is right below hers, he starts to move up on himself hoping she’ll follow. She does, placing her pinky over his index finger as they both start to jerk him off together. Lady’s not using nearly enough pressure, so he moves his hand from below hers to around. Squeezing her fingers tighter, moving her hand faster than they’d been.

Daryl starts to finally feel it building, getting closer to an orgasm than he’d been all night. His eyes close for only a few seconds before he hears and feels Lady spit on his cock again.

“Fucking christ, bug.” He says, looking down at her. Sitting up on her knees with her lips spread just waiting for him to put it in her mouth. He guides himself, in her hand, to her outstretched eager tongue.

Lady just watches it get closer until she can devour him. Not like this morning, she laps at him with no abandon. Licking and sucking at his head like she was making out with it. Daryl’s eyes keep closing at the feeling, and he keeps opening them to watch.

Fucking beautiful. Absolutely perfect. She doesn’t know a damn thing about sucking a cock and it shows. Still feels like heaven, still’s gonna make Daryl bust a fat one. Can feel it, he’s just about to, and then Lady takes his whole head in her mouth while looking up at him at the same time.

“Fuck, Lady. M’gonna.”

She knows what he means, but why was he telling her? Was she supposed to stop? She doesn’t, instead she takes him even further into her mouth, eyes flicking back up to his again.

Daryl and Lady are completely locked onto each other as he cums down her throat.

Lady could feel it happening before it happened, his cock getting even harder before it pulsates between her lips.The first shot goes to the back of her throat, making her gag, but she stays put. Taking all of it.

Daryl watches Lady doing her best to swallow it. Coming to terms pretty quickly that he came down his sister's throat. The fact that it was while looking in her fucking eyes is a little harder. He puts himself away before joining her on their bed. Laying her down on his chest while they both stare at the ceiling.

“Didn’t have ta swallow it.” He tells her.

“I wanted to.”

“Did good, bug.”

“I know.”

He laughs, his rumbling chest shaking Lady’s head slightly, “Oh? Y’know? How’s that?” She didn’t do that good.

“Shit, Bug, fuck. Jesus christ ‘m gonna cum.” She makes groans and grunts in between curses.

“Alrigh’, quit it.” He regrets asking.

Lady sits up to rewind the tape and Daryl stands to turn the lights off. Meeting back in bed, Lady curls up into him, and they both finally manage to fall asleep.

💕

For about a week Lady and Daryl do that night on repeat. Drinking a few drinks, smoking a little pot, making out while Lady humps him until she cums, and then Daryl sits on the couch and Lady sucks him off.

She’s gotten better at it. A lot better and real fast. Daryl had to show her a couple things, but he didn’t count it as teaching her. Just showing her how. Doesn’t know why he thinks they’re different, but one felt dirty and the other one didn’t. Didn’t wanna ‘teach’ Lady anything. Just wanted to experience it with her.

Lady didn’t need much showing how anyway. She’d picked up the sucking part, using both hands, her tongue and her lips. She’s started using her cheeks and her throat too.

Today Lady had asked Daryl if she could blow him while they drove around town. He’s got his keys in his hands before she even finishes asking.

💕

Lady’s laying down on her stomach across the bench seat of the truck, feet kicked up in the air, Daryl’s cock lolling out of her mouth as she lays her head on his thigh to look at him.

Daryl glances down for a second to see her hand holding his length flush against his leg, mouth around the head of him, suckling his cock like it’s a lollipop.

At least once a day Daryl’s sure he’s witnessing the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his whole life. He pulls over onto the side of the road. Lady’s been at this for 10 minutes and he could probably last longer but he doesn’t want to.

She doesn’t move while Daryl parks the truck. She’s learned to recognize the look on his face, and how it meant she was doing just exactly the right thing. She’s still laying on his thigh, one hand on his cock to keep it pointing down and into her mouth while she sucks just the tip of him off, swirling her tongue all around.

Daryl throws the truck in park. Looking down, he grabs her head with both hands, pulling her just barely off of his thigh so he can move his hips. With both feet planted to the floor and his back against the seat he starts fucking into the back of her throat. Her cheeks stretching out around the girth of him made all the more explicit by the light of day. She starts making that noise again. Daryl pulls Lady off of him by both sides of her head, a string of saliva still stuck to his dick goes with her, glinting in the sunlight.

At least once a day Daryl’s sure he’s witnessing the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his whole life, “Why d’ya like it like tha’?”

She’s staring at him with wide eyes, her voice small, “Whad’ya mean?” If Lady could have it her way she’d live with his cock in her mouth.

“When ‘m rough. When ‘m doin’ the work.”

“Never liked workin’, Daryl.” She goes to move herself back to him, but he holds her head still.

“Lay, no. Wanna know why.” But Daryl can tell by Ladys expression that she doesn’t even know. “Figure it out.”

He lets go of her gently, allowing her to go back to doing whatever she wanted to be doing with him. Daryl puts the truck back in drive, figures he’d give Lady some more time doing her new favorite thing.

💕

“Y’good, bug?” Daryl leans down over her shoulder to ask. They’re walking the farmers market. Not some nice fancy fruit and veggies stand, the farmers market. Everyone and their momma trying to sell old tape collections and knick-knacks like it’s a permanent yard sale. As Lady was walking in front of him he’d noticed her moving around all funny. Doing an uncomfortable dance to readjust something without anyone noticing.

“Shuddup.” She hisses back at him, an unmistakable blush spreading across her cheeks.

This just spurs him further, he skips a step to be right up against her, “Wha’s goin’ on in yer pants?”

She stops and turns around to face him, their bodies so close but not touching. Lady takes a quick look around, there’s a bunch of people nearby, walking right past them, but no one’s looking at them.

She sighs, reaching down into her shorts before pulling her hand out and putting it in Daryl’s face. So coated in her own slick that it stretches to fill the area between her fingers when she moves them apart. Daryl wonders if he could blow a bubble with it, and then immediately pushes her hand back down and looks around to see if anyone else had watched her do that.

Seeing that no one’s caught them at the very same time he feels it, his own hand, now covered in her.

Daryl had been losing his fucking mind over her. Her down there. Her pretty pussy that he hasn’t gotten to see or taste or feel. Yet. He’s not ever gonna push her to do something, he’s not even gonna ask her. She’s the one that’s gotta ask for it. That’s gotta want it. So it can’t be ugly.

Lady’s looking at him, waiting for some kind of reaction, til Daryl lifts his arm with a smile and a nod. Aggressively and publicly sucking on the side of his hand. The bit between his wrist and his pinky and part of his palm, all coated in sticky perfect sweet Lady. He looks down at her with a grin before walking away, knowing she’d follow.

She’s on his heels, grabbing his wrist as he weaves through the crowd. Lady pulls hard on his arm to get him to stop moving right when they’re in the thick of it. People bumped up on every side, Daryl turns back to face her and Ladys right up against him, hugging him and pulling his hand between them. Pushing him down the front of her pants, she spreads her legs and urges him further by his forearm.

It happens so quickly Daryl can’t even react at first. His hand just pressed against her. Soft, and warm, and so wanting. Her cunt was so wet and running down her legs it knocked the wind out of him. So wet his fingers slip right through her delicate folds and rub right up against her clit and her hole at the same time. Lady reacts with buckled knees, holding on to his arm for stability. Her eyes closed and her body shuddering around his hand.

He pulls back out just as quickly, righting Lady to stand up straight. He doesn't look around to see if anyone's watching, just takes his wet fingers and slowly puts them against and past her parted lips.

Time seems to stand still, eyes locked on each other, Daryl's fingers edging deeper into her mouth. And then someone bumps into Lady, her body rocking forward and into her brother's larger frame. Wrapping his arm around her, he starts pulling her back through the market. Ending up along the fence that bordered some woods. Thick and on a decline, Daryl knows no one will see them back here.

Lady doesn't know the plan, but she's too turned on to care. So burning up that even the tall grass itching at her skin feels like little lightning kisses.

It's not long before Daryl decides they've gone far enough. He pushes Lady up against a tree, just looking down at her while he tries to catch his breath. She’s looking between them, starting to mess with his belt before he stops her with one hand, “Thinkin' ya migh’ lose yer min’ soon if ya don' jus’ ask.”

She lets go of his belt, keeping her hands in his, “...ask what?”

“Fer me ta touch ya, bug. Yer so fuckin’ wet I don' know how yer still walkin’ around.”

She blushes, and tries to get out of his grip on her against the tree. Daryl lightens up a bit but doesn't let her go, “are ya always like tha’?” he asks.

She looks toward his chest instead of up at him, biting the side of her lip while nodding gently, “I mean, yeah….”

“Need ya ta ask, bug.”

“Why?” She finally looks up at him, genuinely confused.

“Cuz. Gotta be you tha’ wants it.”

“You don't want it?”

“‘nough ta ask.” He tries to clarify but she still doesn't completely understand. Daryl shakes his head, “Forget it. Jus’ cuz, Lay. Cuz I said.”

She nods, scanning the ground next to them like it has the words to put together, “I don't know what to ask for, Dar.” She puts her hand against his chest, “I want it all.”

Daryl smiles, can't help it, Lady doesn't even know what to ask for so she sucks his dick in wanton misery for a week and then when she finally does ask it's to go all the way. Lady fucking would.

“Lay, ‘m not fuckin’ ya fer the firs’ time out in the fuckin’ woods behind the market. Jus fuckin’ ask me ta touch ya b’fore I take ya home instead.”

“Touch me.” She says it before he's finished talking.

Daryl's on her in an instant. Overwhelming her mouth with his own, finally letting his hands feel her everywhere.

He starts at her breasts, which he's already touched over her clothes but never underneath, never pinching and rolling her nipple between his two fingers before now. Her gasp ebbs into a moan as he continues to squeeze and prod at her.

Daryl leans back, breaking his assault on her mouth to pull up her shirt and assault her there instead. But once he's got his eyes on her exposed skin he just stops. His hand coming up to grab at her again, cupping the small soft mound of flesh with his whole hand. Watching as his thumb brushes over her nipple, hard and pink and perfect. He traces his fingers down her stomach, rubbing his free hand over his dick.

Daryl's fingers come to rest at the hem of her shorts, looking up at her before pulling the waistband down past her hips, then onto the ground.

Lady just watches, letting her body sway with the pull of her clothing being removed. Steadying herself with her hand on his shoulder to keep from falling over. Daryl feels her hand, and for some reason it makes him want to stay down there. Hadn’t been planning on it, was just gonna touch her with his hands. He figures touching with his tongue is still just touching, and she’d already asked for that.

Besides, Lady puts her mouth on him all the time. Still, Daryl looks at her before he does, leaning in and peering up. Making it obvious what he was silently begging permission for. Lady meets his eyes, responding to his request by stepping one foot out of her shorts and spreading her legs.

His face buries up and into her, licking every spot around her pussy. Her thighs and all the strings of her mess, his tongue taking large swathes up each side of her lips. Lady’s legs are already shaking so much that both her and Daryl realize she’s not going to be able to stay standing on her own.

“S-sorry.” She squeaks.

“S’okay, bug, just don’t know where to put ya.”

On your cock, she thinks. Lady’s brain can only think about his cock. How she knows it’s hard and in his pants and not in her mouth. Sure, Daryl’s mouth on her feels good, but it’s not the same.

“Just want you inside, Dar.” She’d been good at just dealing with the ache, it seemed to ease when he was in her mouth. Even though it wasn’t what her body needed, she guesses it’s close enough.

She's not looking when he invades her hole. One finger, and she’s shaking and shivering and every muscle in her body tenses up.

Daryl goes to pull out and Lady scrambles to hold his hand where it is. He huffs a laugh, “Shit, Lay, was gonna put it back in again.”

She’s not listening, her ears ringing, her vision whitehot and blinding. Daryl pulls out of her only to stand up. Lowering his head down to take her lips. And like it was every time Lady and Daryl kissed, they’re ignited. More than before. Everything seems to escalate their desperate need for each other. Their want, their desire itself, seemed to feed its own flame.

Daryl’s hands are at her naked hips, Lady’s losing herself in his mouth. She hadn’t realized that she’d put her feet together until Daryl’s hand pushes between her thighs and moves her legs apart again. He pushes his finger back into her, breaking their kiss and pulling a moan out with it. He pulls his finger out slowly, not all the way, before pushing back in again, just feeling her warm walls clenching tightly around his finger. He can’t stop himself from adding another. Wants to stuff her full and change her whole fucking life.

She groans and he presses himself against her body, fucking his two fingers into her as deep as he can reach. Daryl makes sure she’s braced tight between himself and the tree, pushing against her hard to keep her still, before he curls his two thick digits inside of her. His fingertips petting the so-soft spongy part of her, they don’t stop even as her back tries to arch her right off the tree and onto the ground.

Daryl peels her from the bark, keeping my her up with his knees bent so she can reach her arms to wrap around his neck and hold on. He keeps moving his fingers hard against her g-spot, that groan coming out between gasps and other moans and yelps and every beautiful sound Lady could make.

Daryl leans Lady back into his arm, still assaulting that spot with his fingers but instead of curling them into her he starts moving his hand back and forth inside her with his shoulder and forearm. Pulling and pushing, the sound of her cunt squelching into the air, the sopping sounds getting audibly wetter.

Lady leans back so far in Daryl’s arm that he decides to just place her onto the ground. Hadn’t wanted to do that, but it’s too late. Lady, on the ground naked from the tits down and looking up at him like she doesn’t even believe what she’s feeling is real. “Please.” She whines, Lady’d never asked like that before.

He wishes he could fuck her in the woods, even if it was gonna be her first time, but he just can’t. “M’gonna, jus’ lemme look atchya.” He’s squatted down next to her, rubbing his rough palm all over her blushing naked skin.

“You can look when we get home for as long as you want, please, Daryl.” There she was saying it again. Begging him. Lady can’t take it, the cool ground feels refreshing against her flushed body, but the heat is coming from inside and Daryl was right. Lady was close to losing her damn mind.

Daryl watches her writhing in front of him for a beat longer than he needs to. Can’t help it, definitely sure this time that this is the hottest thing he'll ever see in his whole life. Lady's bare body all down in the sticks and dirt with her legs spread. Her messy pussy swollen and red and waiting for him.

He puts his hand down on her chest, running his fingers along her skin so lightly. So barely there. Lady trembles, closing her eyes at the feeling, her back arching off the ground, “Please.” She begs again, grabbing onto his arm and trying to push it between her legs.

Daryl shakes her hands off his arm and continues to kneed at her breast. Grabbing hold of it harshly before bringing his mouth down to lick flat long purposeful strokes into her nipple.

Her eyes wide as she raises her head to look down. Her tit in his hand is lewd. The nipple filled out with fat and puffy, she watches until he completely envelopes her between his lips. The wet muscle of his tongue flicking deep into her nerves, her whole body starts spasming underneath of him.

And then it's. Oh, it's everything. Lady is on fire from the inside again, like when she hit Daryl's pot the very first time and she'd turned into a rabid dog. And now she's feral in heat in the woods, her desperate cunt being filled by her brothers thick fingers and she burns. Burns so hot and alive it rips through her body in screams that Daryl's never heard before. Don't think Lady's ever made before.

She's primal. Screaming and moaning and panting and falling apart. Faeries burning alive and singeing every inch of her soul on the way out.

As she's coming down, Daryl easing his fingers out of her, a high pitched whistle cuts through the air.

6’ tall and dirty. Hairy and sweaty. Roughneck. 20 feet away and just staring at them. Daryl moves quick to cover Lady up as she scrambles her top down and back to her shorts by the tree.

“Fuck off.” Daryl calls back flipping him the middle finger, while Lady wrestles her shorts on. The man just watches, doesn't do anything else. Watches as Lady and Darly hurry away and out of the woods.

💕

Lady scoots over on the bench seat as they roll down the road back to their house. She goes to put her hands on his lap but he moves them away.

“What's wrong?”

“Know tha’ guy.”

“So?”

“Wha’ if he knows you?”

“He doesn't.”

Daryl nods, using his free hand to grab a smoke. Lady helps him light it and they drive home in silence. Lady, curled up next to him. Daryl, a million miles away worrying, for the first time, that maybe he shoulda said no. To the drive, to touching her, to what they were doin’. To all of it.

Didn’t think before now how maybe it could hurt Lady. How if anyone found out…

Cursing himself to hell and not back because he doesn’t deserve it. Shouldn’t have taken her out in them woods like that. Not the same as their woods. Those woods don’t know shit about keepin’ secrets.

💕

A/n: I also cringe so hard when “bust a fat one” but it's Daryl and it's 1996 and I just. It just is, okay? It's in the middle of some of his internal shit and IT just IS. (I wanted to delete it so many times but I can't. I've come to terms with it, so should you. pls)

As far as pacing… this type of relationship takes buildup and I couldn’t figure out where to cut down. Like I took out about 1k in the first “scene” and it still feels like it’s dragging to me but I also feel like I’ve read it too many times to know. Also the smut parts… I feel this need to detail and describe and it’s probably overboard but when I’m reading fic I find myself always wanting more of that so idk. Maybe it’s too much? Idk I’m new I’ll figure it out.

Ty for reading 💕💕💕

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader

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hookhausenschips · 10 hours

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Prequel: The Decision To Go

Main Menu

Summary: If you received an invite to Singapore for the Grand Prix, not as a regular fan but VIP do you accept?

WC: 1,051

Warnings: none

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The streets of Bridgetown at night were like a second skin to me—familiar, rough, unpredictable. The air was thick with salt from the sea, and the warm breeze carried the scent of asphalt and exhaust. This was my world. The dim glow of streetlights, the low hum of engines waiting to roar to life, and the tight-knit circle of racers who treated every corner like a battlefield. I’d spent the last five years living for this—late nights, fast cars, and the constant chase for that rush.

Tonight was no different. I leaned against my car, a 1996 Nissan 240SX that I’d rebuilt from the ground up, its engine purring low and steady. My fingers traced the door’s smooth metal absentmindedly. This car had seen more than its fair share of races, its engine a beast, and its body a warrior. This car was my pride. My life. My street racing world was exactly where I wanted to be.

Zane, my long-time friend and racing partner, strolled up beside me, a grin on his face. “You ready for tonight, Y/N? Lookin’ like a good crowd tonight.” He motioned toward the small group of racers gathering at the far end of the street.

I glanced at him and shrugged, a smirk playing at my lips. “Ready? Always. You know that.”

Zane chuckled. “You sound bored, though. Same streets, same people, same game?”

“Nah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You know me, Zane. I love these streets. Ain’t nothing out there for me but this.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything else. He knew better than to question me when I got that look in my eye. The truth was, street racing was more than a hobby, more than a thrill—it was my life. I’d built a reputation here, earned my respect, and there wasn’t a damn thing about professional racing that appealed to me. Sure, F1 was glamorous, but it lacked the soul, the grit of the streets. I had no desire to give up the freedom, the rush, or the independence that came with running my own game out here.

Then my phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw a message from Naia, a friend I’d met a few years back during a trip to London. She was connected in motorsports, always keeping me in the loop about the professional world. I scanned the message quickly:

"Singapore F1 Grand Prix coming up. Got a VIP pass with your name on it if you’re interested. Let me know—this could be your way in."

I raised an eyebrow. Zara knew me well enough to understand I wasn’t looking for a way into professional racing. But I could sense there was more to the invite than just a flashy weekend at the Grand Prix.

Zane peered over my shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Zara,” I said, holding up my phone. “She’s offering me a VIP pass for the Singapore Grand Prix.”

His eyes widened. “F1? Ain’t that the big leagues?”

“Yeah, but you know I’m not looking for that.” I shrugged. “It’s just an invite to check it out. Not like I’m jumping ship to the pros.”

Zane smirked, leaning against my car. “I wasn’t sayin’ that. Just surprised. You gonna go?”

I was quiet for a second, turning the idea over in my head. I wasn’t interested in F1 as a career, but the idea of watching the race up close, seeing what all the fuss was about, and getting a taste of that world for a few days? That could be fun. “I don’t know. Maybe. Could be cool to see it, get inside the garages, meet some drivers.”

Zane nodded thoughtfully. “Could be an adventure. Not like you’re signin’ up for the circuit. Ain’t nobody pulling you outta these streets.”

“Exactly,” I agreed, meeting his gaze. “This is my life. Street racing is what I live for. But there’s no harm in checkin’ out what F1’s all about, right? It’s not like they could tempt me to trade in the streets for their clean, polished tracks.”

He let out a low laugh. “Yeah, that’s true. They ain’t got what we got.”

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, feeling the weight of the decision settle into my chest. "I’ll think about it," I said. "But for now, we’ve got a race tonight."

Zane’s grin widened. “That’s what I like to hear.” He stepped back as I opened the door to my car and slid into the driver’s seat, the leather familiar against my skin. “You’re a street racer, through and through, Y/N. Don’t let nobody forget that.”

I smiled, firing up the engine. The 240SX roared to life, the sound reverberating in my chest, grounding me in the present. F1 might be glamorous, might be the pinnacle of motorsport to some, but to me, it was just another spectacle. The streets were real. The thrill of racing under the radar, with no rules but your own, couldn’t be replicated anywhere else.

As the flag dropped and I launched forward, the tires squealing against the asphalt, the thought of F1 slipped to the back of my mind. This was where I belonged—in the heat of the streets, pushing my limits with every turn.

---

Later that night, after I left Zane and the others celebrating another win, I found myself alone at home. The quiet was a stark contrast to the noise of the streets, but it gave me time to think. My phone buzzed again, and Zara’s message glowed on the screen. I stared at it for a moment, chewing on my lip. I wasn’t going to trade street racing for F1 or any other professional circuit. That wasn’t the life I wanted. But maybe seeing it up close, getting inside the world of Formula 1 without any strings attached, wouldn’t be so bad.

I typed out my response, keeping it simple:

"I’m in. Just for the weekend, though."

As soon as I hit send, I felt a flicker of excitement. I wasn’t leaving the streets behind, but I was ready to see what F1 was all about—on my own terms, no compromises. Street racing was in my blood, and nothing could change that.

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delopsia · 3 months

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1) Why is this theater showing a film from 1996 1970? 😭 Edit: I was wrong about the year. I have no idea why, but I entirely disregarded the tollbooth part and thought the film was "The Phantom" and not "The Phantom Tollbooth"

2) They drive past this theater twice. The first time is when Rhett makes the handjob comment.

Then, he has a fourteen-second conversation with Maria, where you can clearly see buildings passing by.

Rhett never makes any move to turn onto a new street, so how the hell is it that they magically drive past the theater for a second time?

*puts the tin hat back on* I like to think that Rhett is, for some reason, cursed and genuinely cannot leave Wabang.

He said he would escape town when he was 17. 7 years later, it still hasn't happened, even though he insists he still wants to leave.

He tries to leave Wabang with Maria, and winds up hitting the only billboard for miles.

Now, here he is, driving through town on his way out, and he almost seems to wind up in a time loop, going down the same street over and over. Until guess what? He walks into the bar and gets tied back to Wabang again.

Or maybe his truck runs on fuel made from the hole and has unlocked the ability to time travel on its own. Who knows at this point. I hate this show.

#i dont actually hate it but sometimes I wanna #delgato rambles #outer range #rhett abbott #del's tin hat thoughts

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double-vandammage · 1 month

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Title: Stripped

Word count: 2,192

Rating: 18+

Ship: Bret Hart x Shawn Michaels

Tags/Warnings: Shawn POV, Jealous!Bret, Strip tease, Pet names, Biting, Anal sex, hand jobs, play fighting

Also posted to my a03: aa_beatrix

Oh my this took a lot out of me. 🫣 I spent many nights wrestling with my thoughts on how to write a sexy strip tease and this was the result. I listened to Cherry Pie by Warrant more times than I care to admit to help move this thing along. It turned out WAY smuttier than my first Hartbreak fic I was originally embarrassed to write. 🥴

I got inspiration from the In Your House: HBK vs. Goldust Dark Match for the WWF Title (10/20/1996). That gave me a mixed bag of emotions and I am still thinking about it. 😵‍💫

Shawn waited for Bret leaning against the side of the ring. The stadium seats were vacant and shrouded in darkness save the overhead lights illuminating the empty ring. The match he had with Goldust was sure to have ruffled a few feathers, including one Hitman. The two had been messing around for months on and off. They would meet in private before, after, and in between various matches or promos. Nothing got Shawn going faster than when Bret would berate him in front of a live audience. Surprisingly enough Bret had made the first move. What began as a fistfight ended with a kiss. Shawn found himself backed into a wall, preparing for a punch. Instead he was met with Bret’s lips on his. It was lust at first fight.

“Quite the show you put on with Goldie.” came Bret’s low voice from out of the shadows. Shawn smiled, eyeing Bret’s delicious frame striding down the entrance aisle. “Aw, you know Goldie ain’t mean nothin’ by it.” he grinned. Bret placed his hands on either side of Shawn, bracing himself with the edge of the ring. “You kissed him.” Bret said, those dark eyes searching him. “All part of the act, sugar.” Shawn drawled, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of Bret’s jeans, and tugging him closer. He moved in for a kiss, but Bret was quick to grab a handful of hair to stop him. Shawn let out a sharp hiss in response. “Not so fast boytoy.” Bret commanded, swiftly twisting Shawn around to face the ring. “Someone needs to teach you a lesson…get in the ring.” he growled into Shawn’s ear, nipping at the skin.

Shawn hurriedly jumped up and rolled under the ropes, standing to lock eyes with the Hitman. Bret began to leisurely make his way around the ring, never breaking his focus with Shawn. “Take off your clothes.” he demanded cooly. Bret was never usually this forward and never asked him to strip. May have had something to do with his entrance. Maybe. “Really?” Shawn asked, eyebrows raised. Bret stopped, “Now.” he ordered. “Well okay darlin’.” Shawn beamed, moving center stage. He wasn’t used to a party of one and no music, but who was he to argue with Bret The Hitman Hart?

He watched as Bret pulled a chair from under the ring, setting it up in the aisle. He had strategically placed the chair just before the overhead lights, obscuring the older man from Shawn’s view. Shawn shrugged out of his jacket first, swinging it a few times before letting it fly. Slowly he undid his belt buckle, gliding the strap from his waist. He paraded around as he usually did, untucking his t-shirt and giving Bret just a peak of his chest and stomach before covering back up. He removed his hair tie, giving his head a few good shakes to show off his soft blonde hair. Shawn knew how much Bret secretly salivated over how his lengthy hair would cascade past his shoulders and down his back.

He fell to his knees, bringing his t-shirt back up to expose his stomach and chest again, placing the hem of the t-shirt in his mouth. Unfastening the button and zipper of his jeans, he leaned back to then kick off his boots. Bret remained reserved, continuing to hide in the black. “You can join me anytime Bret baby.” he cooed, shedding his t-shirt and flinging it to the side. He lied down, stretching out on the mat, and began to sluggishly peel off his jeans. He slid his boxers down just enough for Bret to admire the cut of his hips. “Leave 'em on.” Bret said sharply, voice echoing. “Ya wanna take ‘em off cowboy?” Shawn teased, biting his lower lip. The chair Bret was sitting in, scraped across the floor as he stood up. Shawn’s heart began to race with anticipation as Bret approached him, his dick already hard.

Bret entered the ring in between the ropes, kneeling to crawl towards Shawn, and moving among his legs. He kissed his knee, beginning a careful ascent with his lips to his thigh and hip. Bret’s fingers dug into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them only to expose the heart tattoo above his ass. Shawn was well aware of Bret’s stance on his tattoos, he heard it regularly during the show but now he only seemed too pleased to see it. Bret licked at the tattoo, tenderly sucking at the skin. He shifted back to kiss his inner thighs, taunting Shawn’s erection. His breath caught as Bret bit down on his flesh. “Holy Jesus, don’t keep me waiting.” Shawn begged, his hands finding Bret’s mess of hair, trying to guide him towards his dick. Instead Bret rose to a standing position, holding Shawn’s legs in the air. “Oh shi-, oh come on!” he managed to squeak out before he was forced and curled into a sharpshooter.

Shawn felt his back scream as Bret contorted his body and held fast with his most notorious move. “Fuckin’ ow.” he wheezed, scrabbling against the mat. Bret gritted his teeth, adamant in keeping Shawn stuck. “How you doin’ boytoy?” he asked, mocking. Shawn smiled, “Jokes on you mark man, I’m only getting more turned on.” Bret squeezed, tightening his hold. “Is that so?” he freed Shawn, allowing his legs to flop to the floor. Not wasting any time, Bret flipped him; his back smacking harshly into the mat. Bret pried off Shawn’s boxers, nearly tearing them to reveal his slick and pulsing member. “He sure is happy to see ya.” Shawn said, highly amused. Hastily in an effort to avoid another opening for Bret, he knocked Bret’s feet out from under him, and caught him in a headlock.

“Fuck.” Bret snarled. “Not much fun being on the receiving end huh?” he jabbed. Shawn knew he would much prefer for Bret to be inside him right about now, but holding him in a naked headlock was too good. He could practically feel Bret’s seething annoyance. “Are you ready to play nice?” he asked, continuing his solid grip on Bret’s neck. “Not quite.” he grunted, slithering out of his grasp to firmly wrench Shawn’s arm up and behind his back. Again he found himself face first into the mat, Bret letting his full weight rest on top of him. “Ah– god damn.” he panted into the ground. Bret leaned down, kissing the length of his shoulder and running his tongue up the side of his throat. He sank his teeth into his skin, biting him again. Shawn winced, a mix of pain and delight flooding his body.

Bret fumbled around for his jacket pocket, withdrawing a condom and small tube of lubricant. “Such a boy scout.” Shawn groaned, as Bret began to work him open, inserting his fingers leisurely one by one. He could sense Bret’s impatience, wanting badly to punish him. He closed his eyes, listening to the shuffle of Bret undoing his pants and pushing them down. He inhaled sharply as he felt Bret enter him. Bret let his head fall onto Shawn’s back, his breath hot against his flesh. He kept one hand attached to Shawn’s hip while the other continued to contain his arm behind his back. Bret sank into him slowly at first with each thrust becoming more and more vigorous. “Bret baby…” he whined, reaching to touch his own leaking cock.

“I don’t think so.” Bret said, bending Shawn’s arm to join the other; preventing any further movement. “Oh fuck you.” Shawn moaned with agony. He squirmed under the weight of the Hitman driving his dick deeper, keeping his rhythm unrelenting. The side of his cheek rubbed into the mat as he turned to whip away his long hair clinging from his face. His body was already drenched with sweat. After what felt like an eternity of depriving the desperate ache between his legs, Bret began a rapid stroke to match the pace of his hips. Shawn’s body turned weak, unable to sustain the arch in his back. He had no more snarky remarks left, he was reduced to whimpering nonsense.

“Jesus, you feel so good.” Bret gasped. Shawn was in a haze, Bret’s motions becoming more erratic as he pounded into him. He felt Bret’s teeth rake at his shoulder, biting down harshly and grunting a string of obscenities as he came. Shawn yelped over the sudden sting at his shoulder, it was definitely going to leave a mark. The sensation would only fuel his pleasure, threatening to throw him off the edge. Bret licked at the fresh wound he inflicted, causing Shawn’s heart to stutter. “Motherfucker-…” he choked, his face still rigid against the mat. Bret remained inside of him, dick pulsing. Shawn’s arms were released, sore from being restrained. He steeled himself as Bret kept him propped on his knees. Bret continued to pump his cock, his cadence turning torturously slow.

Shawn thrashed around in a frenzy, his hips bucking into Bret’s fist. He knew as another form of punishment, Bret was only going to let Shawn cum on his terms. Bret lowered their bodies to relax onto the mat so he could nuzzle his face into the back of Shawn’s head. “You gonna behave?” Bret muttered, his words muffled through Shawn’s damp hair. “God no.” Shawn exhaled, ready to blow through his fervent euphoria. His answer to his amazement was well received as Bret quickened his strokes. He believed Bret inwardly relished his constant disobeyment, otherwise they wouldn’t be fucking around like they were.

Bret held Shawn in place as he came, white strands coating his palm and dripping onto the ring. Shawn was instantly flipped over to face him, as if Bret wanted to admire his work. He knew his face was flushed, hair wet and wild. His body trembling as he tried to adjust from the convulsions of his orgasm. Shawn met Bret’s stare, his eyes conveying possibly something more than just lust. Bret ran his fingertips along the bite mark he had indented on his neck, “Shit…” he said concerned. They typically hid their bites and bruises well, but they weren’t always careful. Occasionally and usually Shawn had to be creative with his wardrobe to conceal their enthusiasm. “Don’t worry about it.” Shawn said, bringing his hand up to caress the skin of Bret’s forearm.

Bret rolled off of Shawn to lie flat on his back. They never spent much time together afterwards, it was always just sex and nothing more. Shawn moved to his side, propping a hand behind his head to rest on his elbow. He reached out to wipe the sticky hair from Bret’s forehead. He knew he was lingering too long as he began to trace the outline of his face, his fingers languidly smoothing Bret’s bottom lip. Bret shied away from his touch, “Stop Shawn…” he said, his voice horse. “Okay.” Shawn said as he watched Bret hoist his pants back up. He selfishly wondered if Bret was sleeping with anybody else backstage. Shawn reached for his discarded boxers and slipped them back on. Bret was usually the one to bounce as soon as his appetite was satisfied. Shawn found he was longing for some semblance of affection from the older man.

“I gotta go.” Bret stated, straightening his clothes. Shawn in a bleak attempt to keep Bret just minutes more, grabbed the lapels of Bret’s jacket to drag him forward. Shawn’s lips were starving for a kiss he was denied. To his surprise Bret returned the kiss, his hands on Shawn’s waist pulling him closer. They kissed until both of their lips were red and swollen. Bret broke away first, their breathing shallow. Shawn held fast to Bret’s jacket, urging him to stay. “Bret…I-” he stammered. Bret gently pushed his hands away, his mouth forming a hint of a smile. “Gotta go.” he repeated. Shawn sighed, his hands fidgeting. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He watched as Bret departed through the ropes, jumping to the floor. Shawn followed, but stopped short in front of the ropes. He leaned over, watching Bret’s shape disappear into the darkness of the arena. He foolishly hoped Bret would reconsider and choose to spend the rest of the night in his hotel room.

He never expected their relationship to become more than just casual. If anything, he thought Bret would form an attachment first. The Heartbreak Kid with a broken heart. Total bullshit. He collected the rest of his clothing and got redressed outside the squared circle. The overhead lights were suddenly too bright and too hot. Time to go. He gave the ring one last glance, the remnants of their affair still drying on the mat. Shawn snickered quietly, shaking his head. It wasn’t the first time he had a sexual encounter in the ring and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He was also never sure he and whomever he was with was completely alone either, but he didn’t care.

Shawn made his own way out of the arena, already scheming on how best to infuriate his Hitman in a match once again.

#fanfic #fic #a03 #hartbreak #bretshawn #bret hart x shawn michaels #goldust (mentioned)#wwf ships #ns/fw #smut

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tgmsunmontue · 6 months

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Once Upon a Time in 1996... 5/?

IceMav TimeLoop. Maverick wakes up to a great day. Then it all turns to shit. Explicit.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR

DAY FIVE

He wakes slowly, and he has hazy memories of being carried to bed, being cuddled as he drifted back to sleep, and he doesn’t want to open his eyes. Can already tell that he’s alone in bed and he swallows against the tears prickling at his eyes, throat tight.

It hurts.

It hurts thinking that he is going to have to do this all over again.

That Ice doesn’t know or remember what happened between them.

Their first kiss.

Their first time together.

The first time Pete told him he loved him.

Fuck it.

He lets the tears come then, just cries his grief-anger-frustration at the whole situation into his pillow and hopes that Bradley and Carole can’t hear him. He feels emotionally exhausted and he falls back to sleep on a wet pillow. Wakes later to the sound of voices outside his door.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He just… didn’t get up this morning.”

“Mav? Maverick?”

There’s knocking on his bedroom door and then Ice is there, looking concerned and his heart does a little leap, and he can’t believe he went years without realizing just how much he loved Ice. He’s sitting on the bed beside him, his hand on his forehead like he’s checking for a temperature and he closes his eyes, enjoying the contact.

“You okay?” Ice asks, voice quiet.

“It’s just a bad day,” Pete says, because it is a bad day, if not for the reasons they think it is. Ice’s fingers run through his hair, casual contact not usually given and it makes tears threaten again.

“Okay. Well. I’ll be here when you want to get up.”

… … …

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Carole and Tom, that on days when they’re already dealing with their own inner demons they have the time and energy and are willing to care about him too. God he loves them.

… … …

He’s smart.

A problem solver.

He can figure this out.

Fuck he hopes there is something to actually figure out, the idea that the rest of his life is like this, spent re-living the same day.

Never getting to watch Bradley get older, and his heart aches at the realization that Carole is facing that same realization today but for different reasons.

The only benefit of being stuck repeating this day is that he doesn’t have to watch Carole get sick and eventually die, the doctor’s word yesterday still repeating themselves in his head.

He’s pretty sure that while he’s smart, he hasn’t been put in a time loop to somehow suddenly become a medical researcher and somehow find the cure for cancer. That would take years, and while he has the horrible feeling he might have years ahead of him, it also feels like an impossible task for a single person.

What can he do exactly?

… … …

DAY SIX

He won’t spend the day in bed again.

He’s cried it out and moped about it and worried his friends and that’s enough.

He gets up immediately, doesn’t dwell on spending the previous day in bed. He’s running a mental list of what has been the best parts of the last few days. He can be there for Carole, being there for her, not leaving her alone, has definitely helped her. He can do that everyday. Ensure she feels loved and supported and not alone. Tell her everyday that he will adopt Bradley, actually he can look into the paperwork for that, make an appointment with a lawyer and ask for the bill to be sent to him. He can get the information and then make plans for that to ensure it does happen if it is ever allowed to and his life continues past this day.

Also, telling Carole about this time-loop thing. That feels like something he should do every day. She had just accepted it with this amazing sense of grace that astounds him, accepting his words and reality and simply believed him. He doesn’t know if that would work with Ice, he’s far more skeptical than Carole and would more than likely think Pete was playing some type of stupid prank. He could of course try it one day, but he needs to do it in a way that won’t backfire horribly, although he feels sure he could talk Ice around if he does manage to fuck it up and escape the time loop on the same day.

So he can be there for Carole, that’s almost the easy part, what he wants with Ice is harder, more emotionally rife but god he wants to kiss him every day he can, curl up on the sofa with him, watch him cook, fall asleep with his arms around him.

Wake up with him.

Okay. He’s got this. He gets Bradley sorted with breakfast and keeps him on track, makes sure he’s running on time for the bus. He still wants to figure out a way to make it so Bradley knows about Carole’s cancer as soon as possible, but first he needs to get Bradley off to school. He makes Carole a cup of coffee and takes it up, knocking on her door and passing her the coffee silently. Just like the first time she looks surprised and he rubs his face.

“I need to talk to you. I’ll wait for you downstairs…”

That has her eyes going wide and he doesn’t have to wait very long and she’s there, looking at him expectantly and he licks his lips, not sure where to start.

“So I know Ice is in love with me and that you have cancer, because I’m stuck in a time loop like in Groundhog Day.”

She stares at him, takes a long drink of her coffee and then puts her mug down.

“Wow. How many days have you been in the loop?” Carole asks and again Pete is simply floored by her easy acceptance and he just has to ask.

“This is the second time I’ve told you, and you just… believe me. Why?”

“Maverick, I love you. You’re one of the loveliest and craziest men I know, but you don’t have the greatest imagination. This isn’t something you’d make up. Also, the fact that you know about the cancer as well as Tom’s feelings for you? Well, you might be able to spot things in the sky but I’ve never ranked your observational qualities of human emotions as one of your stand out qualities…”

Pete wants to protest, but she’s completely right and he laughs a little.

“God I love you Carole…”

“I know. So… you know about my appointment this morning then.”

“Yeah, I went with you a couple of days ago. It wasn’t great.”

“How long?”

He realizes she’s asking him how long she has to live and he rubs his face, swallows the tightness in his throat and then steels himself. He can do this.

“Six months. Maybe a year.”

“Well shit.”

“Yeah. Pretty much sums it up. I want to adopt Bradley though.”

That has her crying, and he’s being hugged and she nodding silently, or rather, nodding through hiccupping sobs, but it’s fine, he’s pretty sure these are happy tears. Or maybe relieved tears.

“So, family lawyer rather than a hospital?” Carole asks.

“I mean, we haven’t done that yet.”

They then spend a chunk of time ringing around trying to find a practice that has an available appointment and when Carole slides a third cup of coffee across the table she pulls a face.

“If we end up having to do this again please make a note of who has an available appointment and ring them first.”

He laughs and nods, because yeah, that’s something he can do, and when the last firm tells him that he’s missed out on their last available appointment he makes a note to ring them first thing when they open if he gets another tomorrow. Instead they make an appointment for next week just in case.

“Do you think I should ask Bradley?” Pete asks suddenly.

“What? Why?”

“Uh, because he might not want to be adopted by me? I’m sure I can be his legal guardian without actually adopting him…”

“Do you really think he’ll care that much?” Carole asks and Pete remembers the first day, when Carole had said she wasn’t going to tell Bradley about her cancer.

“I think it would be respectful to at least consider his feelings about it. I mean, he’s growing up and he’s only got five years before he’s eighteen right? Think he deserves to voice his opinion.”

“And what if he says no?”

“Then I’m going to respect that, because I don’t want to adopt him against his wishes Carole.” He doesn’t want to replace Goose.

“God Maverick, you’re going to be such a good dad,” Carole says, and she’s wiping away tears, but she’s smiling sadly. “I forget he’s not my little baby, want to protect him from everything terrible in the world, rather than prepare him for it.”

“Well, he’s going to ask why I want to adopt him. He’s a smart kid.”

“You’re right. God. My poor baby.”

Pete agrees, hates that Bradley is going to have to experience losing his mom so young, when he doesn’t even really remember his father except for the few home videos they have. But he feels hopeful the Carole is clearly planning on telling Bradley in this version of today and the relief he feels is palpable. He wants to make sure this happens again as well, wants to be able to ask Bradley if he can adopt him, and for Carole to tell him about her cancer diagnosis. Fuck. What a rollercoaster ride of a day for everyone.

“So that’s Bradley and I sorted out, what about you and Iceman?”

“God. He’s planning a romantic dinner for us tonight.”

“Really? I suggested to him he do that! Told him even you couldn’t be that oblivious!”

“Gee, thanks… but uh, he chickened out one of the days. Another day he came here instead. I also got very very drunk on his emergency vodka…”

“The bottle he keeps in his freezer?”

“Yep.”

“Dangerous stuff.”

Pete snorts, because yes it is, and it’s another blessing he guesses that he didn’t have to live through that hangover.

“I love him Carole, and we had our first, uh, kiss,” Pete says, and Carole scoffs and he forgets sometimes that her sense of humor is filthier than his, or maybe just a match. “But he’s forgotten…”

“And he’ll forget every day. And I will forget every day. But you’re a fighter Maverick, you will keep at this because not only do you have no other choice, but if Ice or I had amnesia you would do the same thing. You wouldn’t suddenly not be there for us…”

Pete thinks of yesterday, his miserable funk which he’d allowed himself to wallow in for a day before pulling himself out and she has a point. He will figure this out. Even if it does take months or years, he’ll figure it out. Thinking that he can’t, or won’t, isn’t going to help. He’s never had a defeatist attitude before now, and he’s not about to start.

“Yeah, you’re right. Although I really hope it doesn’t take that long. I’d like to wake up where I fall asleep…”

“You falling asleep somewhere other than your own bed huh?”

“Ha ha, Ice’s sofa the first two nights, this sofa another night, my own bed and uh…”

“Iceman’s bed?”

“Yeah…” Pete agrees, and he grins, remembering.

“Well then, come on, let’s get you back there.”

“Back where?”

“I’m taking you to see Iceman, come on.”

“I can just go, take my bike…”

“Nope. Don’t trust the two of you to figure this out.”

“Huh…”

“What?”

“Oh, the other day you pretty much dropped me off at Ice’s place without telling me where you were going that time either.”

“Sounds like me. I am used to dealing with you. And Iceman. Come on.”

He follows her out to her car, sings along to the radio with her as she drives to the base, withstands all the sideways glances she gives him, her grin getting wider the closer they get and he simply gets more nervous, despite knowing that Ice loves him. He still doesn’t want to fuck this up. Carole parks the car and hops out, walking smartly up the path to Ice’s front door before knocking. He half expects Ice to answer in a towel again, but he’s dressed in running gear and he's starting to formulate in his head what routine Ice must have for the day.

“Morning… is everything alright?” Ice asks, looking between them and Pete has to fight the urge to just step into his space and kiss him hello.

“Morning Tom, Pete has something to tell you,” Carole says, prodding Pete forward, and she doesn’t often use both their first names like that and he smiles at Ice, hopes it looks reassuring.

“What?”

“Tom Kazansky, I’m in love with you.”

“Is he drunk?” Ice asks Carole and Pete lets out an indignant sound of protest. “Are you drunk?” Ice asks him instead and Pete starts shaking his head.

“He is one-hundred-percent sober. And I told you so. And he’s all yours. You need to talk! Talk to you tomorrow Maverick! Love you!”

“Uh, love you too. Bye…”

They both stand there in silence as they watch Carole get back in the car to drive away and part of him doesn’t feel right, that he shouldn’t be leaving her alone, but she’s a grown woman and she’s delivered him here to sort out his own life. He reaches out for Ice’s hand and laces their fingers together, gives them a little squeeze and doesn’t hide his grin of amusement at the look of happy-confused-disbelief that Ice is wearing, wants to kiss him but they should go inside where they can’t be seen.

“Were you serious?”

“Yeah, very serious. Let’s talk inside?”

“Yeah, inside.”

CHAPTER SIX

#icemav #Once Upon a Time in 1996...#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #Top Gun fanfiction

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gracexthoughts · 6 months

Text

of violent delights chap 9

firebolts and firewhiskey

4 february 1996

Mattheo’s POV

“I’m telling you, there’s no way Potter’s got a Firebolt now. They can’t afford that,” Draco says snottily as we make our way down to the Quidditch Pitch with Theo and Marcus. Rumors have been circling for weeks that Harry Potter now has a Firebolt broom but no one has seen it yet. Marcus suggested taking a look while the Gryffindors are out practicing.

“The Potters’ are rich, they just don’t show it off like you do, Draco,” I grumble, shoving my cousin’s shoulder lightly.

“How do you know?” Draco scoffs.

“Oh, Riddle here is now an expert on all things Euphemia Potter,” Theo chuckles, stubbing a cigarette under his shoe.

“What?” Draco and Marcus ask in tandem, making me roll my eyes. Since my friends found Mia and I in the Astronomy Tower earlier in the week, they have taken every opportunity to rib me about it. Glad to add Draco and Marcus to that list.

“Don’t listen to Theo. He’s just being an arse,” I grumble, shoving my hands in my pockets. I don’t mention that I find myself thinking about Mia more and more lately, how our prefect rounds have been less of a dreaded task every week. Things aren’t perfect, we still bite and snap at each other but since Sunday, our banter has been turning more playful, still sharp but less designed to actually hurt.

“You better not be going soft on me, Riddle,” Marcus starts in but before he can continue we are interrupted by cheers as we near the pitch. Laughter and cheers echo across the grounds as Harry flies up over the stands faster than I’ve ever seen, catching the Snitch with ease.

“Salazar Slytherin, he does have it,” Theo mumbles.

The four of us move quickly to enter the stands and climb up to one of the professor’s boxes, where we will be able to watch and less likely to be seen. We watch in begrudging silence as the Gryffindor team finish running their drills, clearly in top form, and their practice comes to an end. The team whoops and hollers as they land, confident in their win tomorrow with Potter’s new broom. The team converses for a moment before moving to exit the pitch but Mia, Harry, and Ron stay on the pitch, Madam Hooch seemingly asleep in the stands below.

Theo, Marcus and Draco talking lowly about strategy as Ron takes a turn on the new broom but I’m more focused on Mia. Her back is to me but even so I can hear her talking with her brother, cheering on the boy above, and laughing. Fuck that laugh… Soon, Ron lands uneasily on the broom, babbling to Harry about how great it is and Harry offers it to Mia. I watch in the fading light as Mia grins mischievously, setting her own Nimbus aside and mounting the Firebolt.

She bolts upwards in the sky, quickly looping the pitch. Ever since our third year, I’ve been secretly jealous of the way Euphemia Potter flies. Even though I’ve been riding a broom for as long as I can remember, Mia can out fly me with ease. Like she was born to live in the air rather than walk on solid ground.

She loops around the goal posts, flying through the hoops and weaving madly, her laughter ringing out over the pitch as she flys better than I’ve seen. I watch, in awe, as slows her speed, hopping off the broom before it's stopped, laughing wildly all the way. “I think you’ve ruined my Nimbus for me, Haz,” she laughs, shaking her head and handing her brother back the broom.

“Get one for yourself, then!” Harry laughs.

“Then Gryffindor will be practically unbeatable!” Ron whoops, finally waking Madam Hooch. Theo, Marcus, Draco and I duck below the railing of the stands while Hooch scolds the trio. I peek over the railing in time to see Hooch leading them off the pitch but before Mia disappears, she looks up in our direction, right at me. She stops for a moment holding eye contact for a moment, a smirk growing on her lips, before ducking under the stands and disappearing from view.

“Draco, you better start practicing if you’re gonna have any chance of catching the snitch against Potter,” Marcus grumbles, causing Draco’s face to sour further.

5 february 1997

Euphemia’s POV

I walk quickly through the corridors, my scarlet Quidditch robes trailing in my wake and my broom in my hand as I rush down to the Great Hall for breakfast. I’m running a little late due to sleeping in longer than I meant to. After practice last night, I started working on an essay for Potions and lost track of the time and before I knew it, it was nearly 2AM. I run down the last of the stairs and rush through the last corridor. As I turn the corner, I see Riddle leaning against the wall outside the Great Hall, one leg kicked up against the wall behind him. “Stalking me now, Riddle?” I ask teasingly as I near him, noticing his fingers fiddling with a cigarette. He looks up at me and pushes off the wall to close some of the distance between us.

“Last I check, you don’t own the Great Hall, princess,” he quips back, pointing at me with the cigarette.

“True, but if I tell Wood you were spying on practice last night he’ll flip his lid,” I point out. I noticed him up in the stands as I was flying the Firebolt, along with some of his buddies. I won’t actually tell Wood but I wanted Mattheo to know I know. Since Sunday, he and I are still trying to figure out how to be around each other without biting each other's heads off. Thursday rounds we talked about music, but we snapped at each other quite a few times on Tuesday night. Mattheo watches me with a mischievous smirk, searching my face to decipher if I’m bluffing. Eventually he shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Didn’t care about your practice. We just wanted to see if the rumors were true.”

“What rumors?” I ask innocently.

“That somehow your little brother’s got a brand new, fancy broom. How’d you swing that Christmas gift, princess?” Mattheo asks.

“Maybe I didn’t,” I shrug. While the professors have deemed Harry’s broom safe to ride, we still have no idea who sent it in the first place.

“What-“

“Mia!” Mattheo and I are interrupted, again, by George emerging from the Great Hall. “Bloody hell, if you don’t get in here soon Wood is gonna have a fit,” George says, eyeing Mattheo and moving to stand at my side. “Riddle.”

“Weasley,” Mattheo responds, his playful smirk gone.

“Yeah, anyway,” I say, pushing George away from Mattheo and into the Great Hall, not wanting to deal with any of the lingering tension that remains between Mattheo and the Twins. We reach the Gryffindor table with the rest of the team and I sit next to Fred, resting my broom against the table. As I’m pouring myself a mug of coffee, Malfoy and his lackeys approach Harry.

“Sure you can handle that broom, Potter?” he sneers.

“Reckon so,” Harry responds, turning to look at the greasy blonde.

“Too bad it doesn’t come with a parachute-- just in case the dementors decide to come watch again,” Malfoy says maliciously, his lackeys at either side snickering. I share a glance with Fred and roll my eyes.

“Too bad you can’t put an extra arm on your broom. Could catch the Snitch for you then,” Harry quips back, causing the rest of us to laugh, Fred nearly choking on his pumpkin juice. I smile at Harry proudly as Malfoy stalks back to his own table and I notice, over my brother’s shoulder, I can see Mattheo watching us. I tilt my head slightly at him before turning my attention back to my breakfast and teammates.

✦

The game passes in a blur, all my focus on the match in front of me. Now that I know Harry should be able to defend himself against a rogue dementor, I don’t have to worry about him as much. Angelina, Alicia and I work seamlessly together scoring 8 goals easily. I tune out most of Lee’s announcements due to the majority being about Firebolts rather than actual game play.

As I am cutting across the field, the Quaffle under my arm, I hear Harry yell out behind me, “Expecto Patronum,” and I whip my head around to see a large white and silver stag galop towards a large cloaked figure but my attention is reverted as the Quaffle is pulled out from under my arm. But it doesn’t matter because Hooch’s whistle blows signaling the end of the game and I turn my broom around to see Harry with the Golden Snitch in his hand, and follow the rest of the team to celebrate on the ground.

I jump off my broom once I’m low enough and run to Harry, wrapping him up in a sweaty hug. “Haz! You did it! That patronus was amazing!”

“That’s my boy!” Wood yells and suddenly the entire Gryffindor team is surrounding Harry and I, hugging us so tightly I can barely breathe. We’re all laughing and cheering and yelling when a group of classmates run onto the field to join the celebration.

“That was quite a patronus,” A voice says from behind Harry and I as we are released from our teammates. We turn and my smile falls as Remus Lupin stands behind me. He smiles proudly at Harry, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes which look shaken. I had neglected to attend our extra lesson with Lupin this week, although I insisted Harry still go. I’d shown Harry the letter once I returned from the Astronomy Tower on Sunday evening, but he took the news much better than I had. Over the last week, guilt has crept in about the horrible things I said but I’m still angry enough to keep my distance; I wouldn't want to burden the poor professor with an unwanted godchild after all. I’ve done perfectly well on my own the last 15 years.

“They didn’t affect me at all, I didn’t feel a thing!” Harry says excitedly, practically jumping up and down.

“Yes, well they, uh, weren’t real dementors,” Lupin says, motioning for Harry to follow him. I follow behind them until we are out of the crowd to see Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Marcus Flint in a heap on the pitch, black cloaks around them. I smile as Professor McGonagall shouts at them and assigns them detention. Lupin looks back at me and I turn back to the crowd, not wanting to spoil the day with thoughts of him and move towards the Twins who are conversing quickly, already planning a party.

✦

A few hours later, a majority of the student body is gathered into the large abandoned classroom which was deemed the party space quite a few years back. It’s on the very far side of the castle in the dungeons and there’s a short staircase up to the shore of the black lake. I’m sure the teachers know about it but they leave us to our antics as long as no one gets hurt, I guess.

Even though Ravenclaw lost today, there’s still quite a few of them here. Not many students pass up a party thrown by Fred and George no matter the circumstances. Even some Slytherins are here, although they are mostly all in one clump looking pretentiously at the rest of us who are actually having fun.

I’m standing around a barely standing table, surrounded by Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Lee as Fred pours firewhiskey shots messily into our glasses.

“Freddie, you’re spilling it all!” Alicia cries out as she gets splashed slightly.

“Well, you said fast!” Fred defends himself, passing the glasses out which are all full to the brim. Lee begins counting and the six of us all put the glasses to our mouths and tilt our heads back. Lee coughs and shakes his head from the taste. I slam my glass on the table and suddenly I get slammed into by a drunk Fred who wraps his arms around my head so I can only see over his arms.

“Fred, let go of me!” I laugh, pulling on his arms. I see Angelina give me a wide eyed look and I shoot an annoyed one back, knowing my friend well enough to know what she’s thinking. Fred releases his grip on me but stays by my side as the party continues on.

After a while, I turn to Alicia standing next to me and place my arm on her shoulder to get her attention. “I’m gonna grab another drink, need one?” She declines and I make my way through the crowd towards the wall where the drink table is.

“Hey, Mia,” Jaden Filly says, stepping into my path, just before I make it to the table.

“Hey,” I respond politely. Jaden is another Gryffindor prefect a year above me. I don’t know him that well, although I’ve begun to suspect he’d like to change that.

“You look great tonight,” Jaden says, his eyes trailing up my figure slowly. I’m just wearing jeans and a blank tank top, nothing special, and yet Jaden looks like he wants to eat me, making me a little uncomfortable. “You played great too.”

“Thanks, yeah the team did great today,” I say, pulling my hair over my shoulder to hang over my chest.

“Not the team, just you,” Jaden says, taking a step close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “You want to dance?”

“I was actually gonna get another drink, but maybe another time,” I say, taking a step back.

“I can get you a drink,” Jaden offers, reaching for my cup.

“I’m good, Jaden. No thank you,” I say more forcefully, refusing to let go of the cup in my hand. Jaden looks back up at me but then his eyes flick to behind me and they widen in fear.

“Beat it, Filly,” a voice snaps from behind me that sends Jaden running. I turn to see Mattheo standing behind me, a black t-shirt tight over muscles I’m not sure I knew he had and jeans. His dark curls fall slightly in his eyes and his arms are crossed over his chest, my intoxicated brain catching on the veins protruding from his arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, snapping out of my daze and offer Mattheo a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, well you looked trapped,” Mattheo says, dropping his arms to his sides.

“I was,” I say with a slight laugh. “I’m surprised you came. Didn’t think the Slytherin team was too keen on celebrating tonight, what with the foiled prank.”

“Yeah well, Draco and the others are nursing their wounds but I never pass up free booze,” he responds, with a shrug. He steps around me grabbing a cup and filling it up and I move to do that same. “You played well today,” Mattheo says, turning to look at me with his cup now full.

“Scoping out your upcoming competition?” I ask, looking at him out of the corner of my eye, as I pour my own drink.

“Maybe I just like watching,” Mattheo says and I turn to look at him, my eyebrow raised. “Quidditch. Don’t flatter yourself, princess.” I laugh and shake my head, rolling my eyes slightly.

“Mhm, right. Whatever you say, Riddle,” I say lowly, holding eye contact with him for a moment before stepping away from the table to head back to my friends. After a few feet, I glance back to see Mattheo still watching me, his eyes snap up to my face as realizes he’s been caught checking me out and I smirk, turning back to look ahead as I disappear into the crowd.

Mattheo’s POV

Fuuuck.

a/n: thank you guys all sm for reading! this is my first fic i’ve posted and i’m just very glad people are reading. if you want to be added to a taglist pls comment or dm me and please feel free to comment or send me feedback i do really want to improve and make this story as best as it can be. anyway thanks again and ily all

taglist: @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts #hogwarts oc #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #matteo riddle #hp fanfic #wizarding world #hogwarts houses #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #matt riddle #of violent delights

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solradguy · 6 months

Note

I really relate to the thing about seeing Sephiroth and Cloud yaoi on deviantART. Whenever I think of Final Fantasy 7 or yaoi, or even just Cloud Strife prior to the release of Remake, I think of the multitude of images I’ve seen like this. My friend had a big collection.

I’m like Big Boss in MGS3 and this image speaks to me, “Remember the basics of yaoi.” That’s what Sephiroth and Cloud are to me. Something about Cloud just makes artists draw him the size of a pocket crumb.

This artist is good btw I’m not making fun of them!! I’m also, oddly enough, not even into reading yaoi…the image is just synonymous…

Yeah Sephiroth/Cloud is like the yaoi ship that should be included in dictionaries as an example for the basics of yaoi lol It's just so like... All yaoi loops back around to what these two started back in 1997 lmao Actually, knowing fujoshi, I wouldn't be surprised if there was Sephiroth/Cloud yaoi from 1996 just based on whatever scraps of concept art/promo images they'd shown

Yaoi's awesome. I'm not really a yaoi guy either, but I respect whatever the hell's going on over there. The work ethic and dedication of yaoi doujinka and their fans is unrivaled. Some of those women will put hundreds of hours into a project with an audience of less than 300 people. Absolute units

#asks #Only downside to yaoi is it makes finding the stuff drawn for gay men and not fujoshi really REALLY difficult lol

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star-girl69 · 1 year

Text

Ultraviolence

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: swearing, mentions of fire, mentions of death, mentions of a panic attack, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Five - Give Me a Reason To Love You

—-

1996-

It was haphazard, but after ripping a bunch of little strips of random t-shirts, Misty had managed to create a secure bandage for the gash on your face. There was a loop running over your eyebrows, one in between your mouth and nose, and another around your chin. It was awkward, and you felt a little claustrophobic- which made you think back to when Nat had placed her arm around you on the plane- but it was better than leaving an open wound to the elements.

I’m so tired, of playing, playing with this bow and arrow,

Gonna give my heart away,

Leave it to the other girls… to play

The music in your ears was a welcome distraction, and you were glad that you had decided to bring it, your small walkman and black headphones, since you always wrote best when something was playing softly in the background.

Night had fallen, and with it came darkness, and cold. A sudden burst of light, and Natalie had used her lighter to spark the fire the girls had made. You leaned forward, greedy, rubbing your hands together and placing them palms out towards the growing flame.

You could hear Nat laugh slightly over your music.

For I’ve been a temptress too long,

After everything that happened today, it was nice to stick with facts, and not make believe. The worst thing imaginable had just happened to you. Everyone thinks “it won’t be me” until it is them. They say, “it won’t happen to me, it couldn’t” until it does.

And you weren’t a fool. You saw how Tai and Van gravitated towards each other, your saw the looks, the care and concern, the touches. They were in love, and you weren’t a fool.

You knew what having a crush felt like.

But you had never expected to have a crush on a girl. Much less the enigma that was Natalie Scatorccio.

Just give me a reason,

To love you

Give me a reason,

To be… A woman

Natalie sat next to you after a moment, staring at the fire that was rising strong, flaring into a bright red and orange inferno.

You let your mind wander back to the cold, the cold of the wilderness, that not even a fire could assuage. The fire was warm, but not warm enough, so you wrapped your arms around yourself- thinking of insulated houses.

I just want to be a woman

Natalie was like fire, in a way. She was unpredictable. One day she could be burning houses down, the next she was keeping a group of teenagers warm in the wilderness. But like fire, she could be used- fire doesn’t just start all by itself. It needs a match. A catalyst. And the world had given Natalie plenty of sparks.

You wondered if she got to close- would she burn you? You always thought of yourself like a deadly nightshade, but plants could catch on fire easily.

Are you willing to take that risk?

“Give me a reason to love you,” you think.

—-

“I’m sure the plane has an emergency transmitter sending out a distress signal,” Shauna says suddenly. Everyone glances up at her from the fire, and you can still faintly see the image of the flame burned into your eyes, flickering across her face, dancing in the warm glow the actual fire casts.

“They’ll be here to rescue us by morning.”

But Shauna doesn’t know the future.

You were distracted by the sound of loud chewing, nuts cracking between someone’s teeth. Your stomach twisted at the thought of food, and you looked up at Van, at her apathetic face staring into the flames.

“Still…” Jackie started, “Maybe we should conserve some food? In case they don’t get here till later in the day?”

Van nods, her face twisting into a disgusted sort of scowl.

“You want to save the CornNuts?”

They stare at each for a moment, before Jackie looks down, and no one else at the fire speaks for a while.

—-

“You okay, Laura Lee?”

Tai taps Laura Lee’s arm, who’s still clutching that poor bear, and you notice the tears in her eyes.

She stares at the ground a second longer before replying, shaking slightly.

“This is all my fault,” she whispers.

Everyone sits up taller and looks at her. What could somebody like Laura Lee do to make our plane crash, you wonder? She’s sweet and kind, and prays more than anyone else you know.

“I did something really bad,” she whispers. Tai looks to Van, who simply shakes her head. Tears start falling down Laura Lee’s face, and her voice grows thick with sadness. “I kept screwing up in my piano lesson last week. Mrs. Brophy kept yelling at me. ‘Sharp. F sharp. F Sharp.’ I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. So I called her a bad word.”

She sniffles, and you can’t help but look around the fire, seeing everyone’s shocked and confused faces glow in the orange light.

“Just in my head, but… God heard me. Now we’re all be punished.” She says it so mournfully, and even though you’re sure God has bigger things to deal with- you can’t help but feel for her. She truly believes she caused this- but she didn’t. It was a freak thing. No one is to blame for that.

“What did you call her?” Tai whispers.

Laura Lee looks up with her big eyes filled with tears, true regret on her face.

“Cunt,” she says, so softly.

Van is the first one to laugh.

At first, everyone tries to hide it, looking down at the ground, keeping their lips pressed together tight, but eventually- the stress of their day’s events are wearing on everybody, and maybe this release is what you need.

Soon, the wilderness is filled with the sound of girls listing hysterically, gathered around the fire.

You see Laura Lee even let out a small giggle, which only makes you laugh more, until Lottie speaks.

“I steal shitty clothes from T.J. Maxx,” she rushes out, staring at the flames. The laughter dies to down. “I return them, and I get credit that I never use, and I have thousands of dollars in T.J. bucks.”

More laughing, even as Misty touches up the fire.

“I, uh, used to sneak downstairs after everybody had gone to bed,” Jackie starts with a wistful smile on her face, “and watch Color of Night so I could pause it on Bruce Willis’s wang.”

“Definitely why we crashed!” Tai chimes in, earning more laughter.

“I mean, Jeff’s not bad, but damn.”

More laughter, even as Shauna looks away, no laughter pouring from her mouth.

And, maybe it’s the adrenaline still in your veins from earlier in the day- but you confess next.

“Um, sometimes I leave these really stupid, really mean notes on Gordon River’s desk before school paper meetings.” Everyone waits for a second, for some grand reveal of how he wronged you. “He’s just so fucking bitter towards me ‘cause I’m a better writer than him.”

More laughter. A part of you wants it to stay like this forever- this peace. But, you can hear the wilderness all around you- the rustle of a few branches, the soft scurrying of a squirrel or a chipmunk through the leaves, the sounds of an owl.

The wilderness is only just sinking it’s claws into you.

—-

2021-

The scar on your face had gotten better with age. Once you had gotten out of the wilderness and some moisture had returned to your face, the scar healed much better. Countless doctors appointments, antibiotics to make sure there wasn’t anything brewing under the now-closed skin.

For months after the crash, when reporters followed you at every turn, they would always ask about your scar.

Did it come from the crash? Did it come after? Did one of the other girls hurt you?

The sudden vision of a hazy, humanoid figure. A crown rested upon her head- but it wasn’t like the one in movies or books. It was a crown of bone, of antlers, like a deers. The Antler Queen-

You rubbed your eyes, looking into the mirror, tracing the faint scar on your face. You had gotten really lucky with it. It was only on your face, not your head, so you didn’t have a concussion or a brain bleed. And besides for the fact that there was a huge gash in the middle of your face, it was superficial. Deep, but it didn’t hinder your ability to move your face or talk in anyway.

You thought about Natalie.

You didn’t think about her a lot these days, but she used to always smell like cigarettes and alcohol- especially those first few days after the crash. And with an apartment soaked in the stench of nicotine, it was hard not to think about her.

She tasted like cigarettes and alcohol too, even after the wilderness, in those few months you spent motel hopping around the south- shutting the blinds each night, turning the TV on loud and getting drunk and high and whatever else to pretend like you weren’t utterly dying inside.

Not only was the wilderness inside you, but it was wrenched itself into your soul in such a way that you would never be the same again. It had forced your organs aside, made a place in you where it wasn’t supposed to be. Something inside of you was broken. Displaced.

You doubted you could ever fix it.

The last time you saw Natalie was about a year ago, another stay in a motel, upstate New York, fucking around in some random city- far away from the forest.

That was when she overdosed. That night is hazy, but you remember pleading for her to stay with you, stay alive, and she did. You stayed just long enough to make sure she was alive, then you came back to the city. Moved into your cigarette-soaked apartment, got your job at Whole Foods.

A new number. A new address. A new job.

And in a place like NYC, she had no hopes of ever finding you again.

And you were fine with that. That’s what you wanted.

You couldn’t see her hurt herself again- and maybe that was selfish, but it was for you.

But on nights like this, when it’s fall, and it’s a little cold- you think about her. On nights like this, when a bird has found it’s way too close to your window, you think about a night you spent with her.

Neither of you had dont any drugs that night, surprisingly, and only had a little to drink. So in the dingy motel, in that cold bed, Natalie had wrapped her arms around you while you kissed her neck, laughing, talking about something you can’t remember.

When the wind picked up, it didn’t bother you. But when the tree started to scratch against the window, that’s when it started.

—-

2019-

At first, it had only spooked you. You were tired enough for one little noise not to totally terrify you. Besides, with Natalie practically surrounding you, you could barely hear the first scratch against the window.

The next few were the same.

Until the wind came again, faster and stronger, scratching, scratching, like the sound of a knife hitting bone, like the sound of someone screaming far away. The last sound prey would make, before they died.

You shot up in bed, dragging Natalie with you, while she blinked the sleep out of her eyes and tried to tug you back to her, asking if you had a nightmare, while tears streamed down your face and you covered your ears, letting out a small cry.

“What- what’s wrong?” Natalie asked, cupping your face with one hand to get a good look at you, her finger sitting perfectly over your scar.

“The tree,” you gasped, “the tree, the tree, Nat, please-”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Just thinking, until she pressed a small kiss to your hairline, and whispered:

“We’re in Texas, baby.”

She grabbed the remote from the bedside table, turning the TV on, some random talk show about the best five kitchen appliances to make cooking easier.

And like that, with Natalie wrapping herself back around you, your face in her neck and the sound of a talk show host’s squeaky voice, you fell asleep.

—-

taglist:

@sweetdayme4427 @dreaming-for-an-escape @peachydoki

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

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dollywheeler · 1 year

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October 13th, 1996

Dear diary,

Mrs. Benson’s hip is acting up again so most of my - admittedly already limited - free time has been going to helping her out with chores and groceries. I really don’t mind - Mrs. Benson is sweet and always has a fun story to tell - but the timing is kind of a bummer.

Mike asked me over to allow me to practice guitar together - apparently the guitar in their den is a new one Will got him for his birthday a few years back, but he still has the old one he learned to play on lying around upstairs. So after class on Wednesday, he suggested learning a song together. Of course, I jumped on the opportunity to get to practice more, but as I’ve basically spent all weekend at Mrs. Benson’s, I haven’t gotten a chance to set a date yet. Mom tried to convince me that she could bring over the extra meals herself, but I genuinely do enjoy helping her out, and I’m the only one who knows how to get her to admit she needs more help.

Last time, mom went to deliver her meals three days in a row because I had extra cheer practice, and it’s only when I finally went over again that I could convince her to admit she’d been needing some more lemon drops for her throat. I mean, I know it’s not life-threatening but still. I worry less when I go myself. Besides, I like the walk, even if it’s just down the street. It’s peaceful.

Tuesday evening, I’m babysitting again, so I’ll hopefully get the chance to practice as I usually do, but it would have been great if I’d have an idea as to what song we’re learning at least, so I can get a head start. I kind of want to learn Champagne Supernova because it’s my favorite song at the moment, but I don’t know if Mike likes that kind of music - I mean, he didn’t even recognise the Pixies!

Will at least knows how to appreciate music - he’s been playing the tape I copied on loop in class all week! I’ll probably just go ask Mike after class tomorrow what song we're doing.

Whitney’s already been bugging us about Halloween as well, trying to coordinate outfits for Melissa’s yearly Halloween party. I still think it would be cool to go dressed as the Hocus Pocus witches - at least it’s still somewhat tied to Halloween! - but Dylan and Whitney really want to go as Clueless. I suggested Heathers instead but they thought it was boring. I mean I don’t disagree - I’m not particularly fond of Heathers either, but it’s slightly more interesting and bloody than Clueless. Also, how do you even dress up as clueless??? I’m clueless about THAT.

Anyway, there’s plenty of time still. Maybe I’ll ask Will for advice, though I doubt he’d know as the party were boys and there were four of them.

Maybe I can wriggle out of this years triple costume if I tell them I want to do a couple’s costume with Daniel. Then we could do Bonnie and Clyde or something. Not the most creative but still fun. I don’t want to just ditch them… but with everything going on I haven’t been able to spend a lot of time with Daniel outside of school, so I genuinely do want to spend Halloween with him. I know the girls will understand that at least :)

I did see him once when I went to grab food from the diner - Mrs. Benson was craving their fries - and it was definitely the highlight of my weekend - or at least a close second to finally beating Mrs. Benson at blackyack :P There’s just something about seeing him - and the way his eyes light up when he sees me - that makes my heart settle. I seriously can’t describe it, but it’s like a jolt of electricity that recharges me for the rest of the day.

If they are so set on Clueless maybe I can get Daniel dressed as the stepbrother - I don’t remember his name but you know the one. (Seriously why am I the only one who finds that movie weird?)

Everything’s getting a big hectic at the moment but basically, current to-do list:

Talk to Mike about a song choice - preferably tomorrow after class so I can -

Practice the song before meeting up with Mike.

Set up a date to go over to Mike and Will’s.

Maybe wriggle in another dinner invite for mom as well.

Research more costume ideas. Ask people for advice - Will, Mike, Daniel, etc

Finish paper on The Crucible.

Ace Biology test.

Find some time to spend with Daniel

Pray this list doesn’t get longer.

Love, Holly

#holly wheeler #the third wheeler #mike wheeler #stranger things #byler #fanfic #st

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eternal--returned · 2 months

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IGGY POP: Once I heard the Paul Butterfield Blues Band and John Lee Hooker and Muddy Waters, and even Chuck Berry playing his own tune, I couldn't go back and listen to the British Invasion, you know, a band like the Kinks. I'm sorry, the Kinks are great, but when you're a young guy and you're trying to find out where your balls are, you go, "Those guys sound like pussies!" I had tried to go to college, but I couldn't do it. I had met Paul Butterfield's guitarist, Mike Bloomfield, who said, "If you really want to play, you've got to go to Chicago." So I went to Chicago with nineteen cents. I got a ride with some girls that worked at Discount Records. They dumped me off at a guy named Bob Koester's house. Bob was white and ran the Jazz Record Mart there. I crashed with him and then I went out to Sam's neighborhood. I really was the only white guy there. It was scary, but it was also a travel adventure—all these little record stores, and Mojos hanging, and people wearing colorful clothes. I went to Sam's place and his wife was very surprised that I was looking for him. She said, "Well, he's not here, but would you like some fried chicken?" So I hooked up with Sam Lay. He was playing with Jimmy Cotton and I'd go see them play and learned what I could. And very occasionally, I would get to sit in, I'd get a cheap gig for five or ten bucks. I played for Johnny Young once—he was hired to play for a white church group, and I could play cheap, so he let me play. It was a thrill, you know? It was a thrill to be really close to some of those guys—they all had an attitude, like jive motherfuckers, you know? What I noticed about these black guys was that their music was like honey off their fingers. Real childlike and charming in its simplicity. It was just a very natural mode of expression and lifestyle. They were drunk all the time and it was all sexy-sexy and dudey-dudey, and it was just a bunch of guys that didn't want to work and who played good. I realized that these guys were way over my head, and that what they were doing was so natural to them that it was ridiculous for me to make a studious copy of it, which is what most white blues bands did. Then one night, I smoked a joint. I'd always wanted to take drugs, but I'd never been able to because the only drug I knew about was marijuana and I was a really bad asthmatic. Before that, I wasn't interested in drugs, or getting drunk, either. just wanted to play and get something going, that was all I cared about. But this girl, Vivian, who had given me the ride to Chicago, left me with a little grass. So one night I went down by the sewage treatment plant by the Loop, where the river is entirely industrialized. It's all concrete banks and effluvia by the Marina Towers. So I smoked this joint and then it hit me. I thought, What you gotta do is play your own simple blues. I could describe my experience based on the way those guys are describing theirs . . . So that's what I did. I appropriated a lot of their vocal forms, and also their turns of phrase—either heard or misheard or twisted from blues songs. So "I Wanna Be Your Dog" is probably my mishearing of "Baby Please Don't Go."

Legs McNeil & Gillian McCain ֍ Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk (1996)

youtube

The Stooges ֍ I Wanna Be Your Dog (1969)

youtube

Muddy Waters ֍ Baby Please Don't Go (1953)

#legs mcneil #gillian mccain #please kill me: the uncensored oral history of punk #iggy pop #paul butterfield blues band #john lee hooker #muddy waters #chuck berry #the kinks #i wanna be your dog #baby please don't go #bookshelf #quotes #tunes #music #fav #Youtube

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flowerandthesongstress · 17 days

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Hi I'm dropping by to share an opinion that might be controversial, but might just as well be common and widespread among the 'loved this show as a child, rewatched as an adult' crowd. I'm not sure. I'm always out of the loop. All of the loops.

Anyway.

Recently I'd learned that my SO never watched the X-Files, the show that was my favorite when growing up (yes, I should not have been watching it, but oh well...frankly, I had much worse sources of childhood trauma in my life) and we decided to amend the fact.

Over the course of a few months, we went through approximately 85 to 90% of the episodes. We skipped a few insignificant ones. With insects.

Some short remarks first. One: all of my favorite episodes still hold up and some go twice as hard and Clyde Bruckman goes ten times as hard. Two: Mark Snow might have been in an abusive and mutually codependent relationship with an oboe. Three: "Everything Was Inspired By The X-Files" seriously, so much media in the last two decades has just been 'a person who watched the x-files when growing up is now writing stuff' and I'm not immune ... Four: this video essay that I found after we'd gotten to 'JS's from OS' and I was like "waaaaait I minute, this is... postpomo? in 1996? released around the time Infinite Jest was published? when metamodernism still was little more than a concept in DFW's head? what the heck?" and looked it up to see if my brain was wishful-hallucinating, and found this video essay. Five: when watching the show for the first time, I only knew three names: Anderson, Duchovny, Carter. Like, 'Hello yes this a cool scary TV program with The Anderson and The Duchovny as my Mom and Dad, and all of this show in its entirety is made by The Carter'. That was it. Because only those three names were translated in the credits.

And now I'm going to ask you to please don't kill me. Please. I'm going to die, I promise, I just don't want to be killed right now because of a possibly controversial X-files opinion. This is just a personal opinion. You are free to not share it, you are free to hate me, but could we please avoid conflict and arguments? I love you. I was drugged.

Anyway x 2.

Here's the most important thing I realized now that I'd rewatched the show in English as an adult who'd loved the X-Files as a minor (and watched it dubbed), and then went on to receive a university education that very specifically gives her a shmauthority to determine if a writer is actually a crap writer...

...Chris Carter is actually a crap writer.

He's uuuhm. He's bad at writing. Wait, no, that's unfair. He is what I like to call 'painfully mediocre'. Slightly paraphrasing a quote from my other favorite American show: he's every kid on the playground that didn't get picked on. He's a business casual potted plant, a human white sale. He's VH1, Robocop 2, and Back to the Future 3. He's the center slice of a square cheese pizza. Actually, that sounds delicious. Vince Gilligan is the center slice of a square cheese pizza. He's Jim Belushi.

He's just so. painfully. mediocre as a writer. Some of his choices were BAFFLING. Not just bafflingly bad, but simply baffling in a 'how and why and why would anyone ever think this is a compelling idea' sense. Some moments made me wonder if there's zero self-awareness or minus self-awareness.

Chris Carter would hardly make you mad with how bad he is. He's seldom bad in a memorable way. He was cliche when those cliches weren't yet cliches. When the TV tropes website didn't exist. When metamodernism still was little more than a concept in one bandana-covered, troubled head.

He attempted three other shows. All of them were canceled. Two of them he had to wrap up in the X-Files, and he wrapped them up with as much poise as I wrap burritos when high. One was canceled before airing, but he put a piece of it into an X-Files episode: a minor character in the cold open watches and praises this show, so enraptured that he doesn't hear his daughter being kidnapped by a serial killer or abducted by aliens or neither or both, tbh I'm still not 100% sure what happened and what didn't happen, because that episode was written by Chris Carter. The highest rated episode out of all the episodes in all of the three canceled shows has Darin Morgan's writing credit, and it's a sequel of an X-Files episode. Where Jose Chung just goes 'you know what? this sucks' and dies.

Yes, I did enjoy The Lone Gunmen, but guess who has the most writing credit? Yes, Vince Gilligan. Perhaps, executives didn't really understand and didn't bother looking into why X-Files was such a popular and beloved show? And kept on greenlighting Carter's pet projects and then going: Wait, Where Money? Probably. That's how I imagine the reason. Thing is, the X-Files was so beloved and popular not because of Carter's obsession with Christian symbolism and conspiracies and apocalypse and ambiguity so vague and lazy and full of itself that I felt vicarious embarrassment, not because of his narcissism God complex that is manifested on screen in such a way that watching it feels exactly and very specifically like grinding your teeth while there's a bit of slightly wet sand on them, and not because people ached to learn how aliens would colonize Earth. Characters. We loved the characters. We loved the relationships in the show. And we loved the CRAZY and the over-the-top. And all of the Human, all the Silly, and the Funny, and the Tragically Funny.

Every single episode I remember loving the most, and every single episode that tops every single 'bestest X-Files episodes evah' list, has the writing credit of either Darin Morgan (Humbug, Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose, Jose Chung's From Outer Space, War of the Coprophages), or Vince Gilligan (Soft Light, Pusher, Bad Blood, Small Potatoes, Paper Hearts, Meme— you know what, this is easier), or Glen Morgan + James Wong (Squeeze, The Field Where I Died, Never Again, Musings of the Cigarette-Smoking Man). Not Carter. Although according to a WaPo article I read, Carter was insanely controlling and everything had to go through him. Duh. :-\ Not to mention, his entire writing room was a sausage fest, apparently? And Gillian Anderson finally got to write an episode only in season seven, when the show was about to be foreclosed by Fox and turned into a movie franchise (never happened, alas), and around the 'f*ck it who cares anymore we're rich and uncancellable' time when Gilligan was allowed to write the episode where Mulder solved existential nihilism via freeing a genie? Not surprised.

Meanwhile, Carter himself had written the episodes I was looking forward to the least during this rewatch. And my SO would be like: wow, you're rolling your eyes so hard I'm worried about your vision, should we maybe skip this one..? And I'd be like: no-no imma just do some chores, I really wanna do some chores, I'll be nearby, yes please keep on watching babe, no need to pause, I'll keep the bathroom door open to hear everything while I do my favorite very entertaining things like clean the toilet and scrub the shower and wash the litterbox.

Hmmm? What's that? Post-modern Prometheus is highly rated? Hoo boy :-| Can we please not go there... Also, even without all of the problematic aspects of PMP: 1) even a broken clock can do postmodernism is right twice a day, 2) no, it is not a well written episode; it's loved because of its subtly familiar nostalgic visuals and because it attempts to imitate Darin Morgan's signature style with about as much success as I had while trying to imitate Lovecraft when my English was at ~C1 level and then I started crying and went to Postmodernism and told him 'please mister postmodernism sir, please save me by making it all into a long setup to a punchline'.

Anyway x 11:21.

This whole realization made me dislike the Auteur theory even more. My relationship with it was already so hostile that we've been sending each other death threats every month since I was seventeen.

Yes, I should be fair(er). Chris Carter's primary role is NOT that of a writer, but a producer and director and *cringes* shOwRuNnEr. He was the one who pitched the show to Fox, was rejected, and fought for it until they agreed. Without him, the X-Files would not have existed at all. And all bad jokes aside, this show helped me a lot when I had no one and nothing else to help me. I was indeed in a parasocial relationship with its leads. They were my TV parents. Thing is, everything you love about the X-Files' writing... like me, any other casual viewer might discover that all of these things were not done by Carter. Yet he was getting all of the credit.

This is a very important, and seemingly obvious but not really, factoid that applies to a lot of shows and movies. The person you give credit for a thing is often not the person who should be getting it. If you're rolling your eyes right now and calling me agent Obvious: may I remind you, I'm permanently out of the loop about everything. EVERYTHING.

I'm not going to devolve this into a rant about Auteur theory...Because then I'd be here all day or until I start foaming at the mouth. And I'm sure everything has been said without me and before me, anyway. I'm not even going to write a more detailed analysis to defend my views regarding the 'painfully average'. Shmviews.

I've said what I wanted to say.

This rewatch was an interesting experience.

"Skinner wants our report in one hour. What are you going to tell him?" — "What do you mean what am I going to tell him? I'm going to tell him exactly what I saw. What are you going to tell him?" — "I'll tell him exactly what I saw".

#the x files #txf #pretends to be funny #x files #media literacy

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v-era-18 · 1 year

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Red Licorice

Chapter Three: A Dead Girls Diary

“We don’t need them. It’ll be me and you against the world,” -Casey Beker

June 14th 1996

I know I'm supposed to start out with Dear Diary, but that's for basic bitches as Tatum would say-that dumb redhead.

Today my mother gifted me with another diary to write down my feelings after my break up with basketball player Paul Mathews. We had been dating for over a year, had gone on several dates, I cheered at all his games and wore his jersey blah blah-. She thinks I took it hard but in reality, I was more appalled with the reason why for the breakup. From what Pual’s sister had confessed, it was because he didn't like me at all-and was using me to get to my best friend (Y/n) (L/n).

(Y/n) is my best friend, I love her so much! Not only is she super smart but she's insanely pretty too. The only problem is she never believes it whenever someone tells her how beautiful she is. Hence why I wasn't hurt with the fact that Paul fell for (Y/n)-I understood why. She's like a beacon of light that you want to be covered in each day, from the way she laughs with a wide smile to the way she enters the room warming the space around her.

Long story short, many guys have come up to me and asked me how to ask her out before, and you know what I did as a good friend? I told them to get lost and they could kiss my ass! All of the boys at our school are practically dogs, (Y/n) needs a boyfriend that actually cares and likes the things she's interested in.

Take Randy for instance, he would be a perfect match-

(The rest of the sentence was crossed out)

On second thought, she doesn't need any man but me.

June 17th 1996

Okay Diary, I know it's been a minute since i've updated you on what's going on, but long story short-Tatum has lost her damn mind! Not only did she decide to sleep with my ex boyfriend Paul but there's a rumor amongst the other cheerleaders that they had been sleeping with each other for awhile behind my back! The absolute nerve!

(Y/n) told me I should let it go and possibly find another boyfriend who really cares about me the way I should be treated. She even went out of her way to watch a marathon of Rom-com videos with me to cheer me up. Not only did she cook me my favorite chocolate cake but she also made sure we did our nails. She even let me put color to hers-although she wouldn't let me do pink, but I didn't mind.

I am a bit jealous that Stu and Billy have been trying to get her to watch horror movies with them alone. I find it really weird how the two of them since we've been kids have always insisted that it has to be the three of them to enjoy the movies. But the jokes on them! (Y/n) has been spending all her time with me, Sidney and that bitch of a redhead.

Who needs boys when you have girls instead.

OMG I just got the greatest idea on how to get back at Tatum!

I'll keep you in the loop with my devilish diary!

Xoxox,

Casey

June 27th 1996

You'll never believe what happened today! My plan to get back at Tatum worked! Well not actually but indirectly.

You see Tatum has a huge crush on Stu Matcher, the dumb trouble maker (Y/n) always watches horror movies with. The bright side is that he's hot and is known for making all the girls melt in our school. I honestly didn't get what Tatum sees in him-but it must be something since she keeps ranting and raving about it during our sleep overs.

(Y/n), Sidney and Tatum came with me to the mall to do a little shopping, and Stu and Billy just so happened to be there looking for god knows what. They simply insisted on tagging along and the whore was more than happy to give in. It seemed to make (Y/n) uncomfortable with how much Tatum was flirting with Stu-I put it together that she simply hates public displays of affection. That's how it was when Paul was around.

Eventually Sidney and Tatum decided to head off in the lingerie store and decided to drag (Y/n) with them-knowing that my friend hates men seeing her in there. I was about to take along and make suggestions when Stu stopped me, the boy was straightforward with flirting-and I hated how easy it was for me to fall for his sly smooth words. I would be mush if I honestly found him perfect, but the amount of times he's followed (Y/n) around like a lost puppy freshman year screamed otherwise. So I played the game-remembering I had a score to settle with Tatum, and soon enough we were in the public restroom getting busy.

I won't lie-he was good. No wonder he broke so many hearts and had ex’s demand to get back together with him.

It wasn't long after the mall that he asked me on a date-a bit backwards don't you think? I guess I was a very good lay for him-my efforts paid off though, he only paid attention to me in spite of Tatums efforts.

During the whole time, (Y/n) did not speak to me, I could tell something was wrong due to her forced smiles and lack of conversation. Especially when Billy mentioned the new horror movie coming to theaters that he and Stu wanted to go see with her. I even asked to join, but she acted docile during the whole conversation.

I felt as though I made a deep mistake of some kind. And it really bothers me.

July 2nd 1996

I fucked up. Really bad.

(Y/n) has been avoiding me, and each time I invite her over my house she always says she has to help her Aunt out with something-which is bullshit because her aunt works her ass off at the hospital 24/7.

I have been spending a lot of time with Stu lately, but we either are having sex or he wants to watch horror movies. Sometimes I simply just stare at the scream lost in thought as to why I wanted to continue this relationship. I mean the sex is good, don't get me wrong and it feels like a victory to continue tormenting Tatum with our relationship, but it didn't feel right to keep doing this if my best friend isn't around.

I told Stu about my concerns with (Y/n) only for him to ask if he should talk to her about it, it was the way that he asked that quickly threw me off. I then proceed to ask about their friendship and how they often hang out with each other. He tells me they haven't interacted as of late because of me, and asked me to ‘politely’ stop getting in the way of their movie time together.

We had a huge fight about it. I didn't like the way he said it so casually that he wanted her there with him rather than me. We ended up having sex an hour later-but it didn't feel right. It was odd, Stu seemed to be hate fucking me one minute then caressing and telling me how sorry he was.

Once he was done he looked at me for a long moment, it was like he was trying to see me as someone else-I had seen that look before with other boys who loved someone else. Whatever spell he was under he snapped out of it before kicking me out before his parents got home.

I’m so lost.

July 4th 1996

(the page was torn out with leftover teardrops)

July 7th 1996

Me and (Y/n) had a heart to heart. It was jealousy - something that we both never in terms felt within our friendship. I know her, she’s not the type to get jealous unless she truly liked or felt for the person she was looking at. And even then-there wasn’t many that she looked at-from my knowledge anyway.

We spent the rest of the afternoon together watching movies on her living room couch. It felt good to be in each other's good graces again, afterall my life just seemed out of place without her in it. Watching horror movies, going shopping, or simply walking in the town square didn't do it for me without her by my side. There was one part in the movie where I watched her laugh the hardest she's ever done, her smile warmed me up inside, my heart hammering miles per minute.

When it came time for my mom to arrive, I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay. To hear her laughs and have her stay in my embrace longer. The bed in my home feels colder-missing the warmth on the other side of the mattress.

July 13th 1996

I'm scared to share this, but I've been rewinding last night's dream in my mind for the past three hours straight. It was nice at first, it seemed like every other day, I was over (Y/n)’s house horror movie in the background with the air blaring to life. The one thing that seemed weird was how close we were, she was laying on my chest covered in a blanket as I played with her curls.

It was comfortable, until (Y/n) leaned up and kissed me, not a quick peck but a slow passionate one. It wasn’t like the many empty ones I had given in my past relationships, it meant something. I could feel it-the love the joy my best friend was giving me. What shocked me the most was the fact I was kissing back taking the lead-dominating her entire being as I watched her melt in my grasp.

Soon I was on top of her kissing down her neck, stripping her of her clothes and sucking her breasts. I enjoyed it, the sight and the sounds she was making pleased me. It was different taking control but from how I was acting it was as if I had known how to do this my whole life.

I’ll never forget the way she moaned my name as I gave her orgasm after orgasm on the couch-her cunt practically dripping wet with her own thighs coated in her mess. Her eyebrows pulled together in ecstasy with her brown circles of breast on full display-arching into the air. It wasn’t long before we both finished, the aftercare was something I noticed I prioritized. I made sure she took a shower and was fed before taking her to the room to sleep.

It just felt right. No guilt. No thoughts about boys and their rough nature. Just the two of us. One embracing the other.

July 20th 1996

Distractions are what I found myself needing each night, and lucky enough for me there were plenty in Woodsburror. But with the many times I ended up underneath Stu I couldn't get her out of my head. Her moans and sweet utterance of my name against my lips, the same lips I found myself sucking the dick of the same man who had a secret attraction for my friend.

I know right-when did that happen.

It was the other night when I was with Stu in his truck, I had a slip of the lips and moaned (Y/n)’s name. I really hadn't meant to, but the way Matcher had stopped everything was telling enough-he didn't like the fact it was her name I had said. He had stopped initiating sex with me that night-even though he was still on hard.

I asked him if he was going to tell anyone what had happened. He said no, and instead offered a proposition. At first I was a bit scared to know what it was, but thought I didn’t have much of an option-I didn’t want my secret getting out.

He wanted a threesome between (Y/n) and Me. I immediately looked at him in a mix of shock and utter disgust. To get out of it I immediately mentioned that she was a virgin still-he countered it saying that he would be her first. The way he said it was weirdly full of warmth and affection. It twisted my stomach into knots and made me question how authentic was the relationship we currently had. The way he said her name-from the way he promised not to use her-to be gentle all the way through.

I hated it. I hated him. I never wanted to get out of a truck so fast in my entire life.

To get out of the conversation I lied and said I would think about it. But obviously-I'm thinking of a way to end this.

He wasn't going to touch (Y/n). Not on my watch.

July 27th 1996

Cheating isn't something to be glorified, ever. But damn did it feel like a weight off my shoulders when I heard of Tatums whore ways.

The new rumor amongst the cheerleaders this week was hot! Half the squad was over Autumn’s house when the ball was dropped about what the team captain had seen the other day on her way to Blockbuster. Apparently Tatum had invited Sidney and (Y/n) along on their blockbuster run knowing that Stu and Billy would be there. At first I was a bit upset (Y/n) hadn't told me anything about it-but the gears started turning once Autumn said Stu had ignored Tatum the entire time, his attention solely on my best friend.

It was confirmed with a simple sighting and interaction with the two, Stu didn't want me or Tatum. He wanted (Y/n). And in his own twisted way of trying to get close to her he was using us (her friends) as a gateway.

I don't understand. He had more opportunities to date her from the beginning, they were practically inseparable since they were kids-especially in middle school. Billy soon added to the mix not so long after his mother wasn't as present anymore.

You're probably wondering where the cheating part had taken place right? Long story short, our team captain-Abigail- had saw Stu fucking Tatum against the wall of an alleyway next to the store. It was embarrassing, not only did everyone give me sympathetic looks, but they all knew about what Paul did. It was the same thing happening twice in the row-(Y/n) being tossed in the mix.

I played the part of the sad grieving girlfriend very well, maybe it was because through the irony of it all- I didn't care about the fact the boys didn't want me. I cared about the fact they wanted (Y/n). They wanted my best friend-the girl I wanted all to myself.

I don't blame them for falling in love with her though, after all. I did it myself.

August 1st 1996

Today was cheerleading practice for the new school year along the day football players start preparation for the upcoming football season. Most of the time while we were coming up with cheers on the sidelines, the fresh new round of quarterbacks would hoot and holler for our new uniforms.

I'll admit, they were very sexy. But I really couldn't get my mind off of me and (Y/n)’s sleepover last night. She had simply fallen asleep on my chest, her silk nightie rode up at the bottom leaving her lace painties in view. I was quick to pull the dress back down-but my mind had wondered if I had proceeded things differently.

My parents weren't home and it would've been the perfect opportunity. But instead I was too scared of what she would say or the possibility of ruining our friendship.

My kicks and flips were the worst it had ever been throughout practice and the other girls could tell. And much to my embarrassment they thought it was because of Tatum messing around with Stu. As if I could care less what that whore did with my lay! And the bigger fact of the matter is Stu dosen’t even want Tatum either-hes just fucking her till he gets bored.

I couldn't do it anymore, I was sexually frustrated. From the pent of feelings for my best friend and the fact Tatum continued to pretend she didn't keep stabbing me in the back over and over again.

I had noticed Steve staring at me throughout his drills, and decided to call him over once me and the girls took our two hour break from practice. Seducing him wasn't that hard-it was obvious he thought more with his dick than his own head.

The locker room was thankfully deserted giving us enough time to get an hour of pleasure in. The poor boy took it the wrong way and thought I wanted to go out with him-it wasn't a bad idea though. Steve was cute and had a lot going for himself, and seemed somewhat of a decent guy, plus it gave me an excuse to dump Stu.

I can only hope he doesn't get too angry about it down the line.

August 7th 1996,

Okay so the breakup didn't go as smoothly as I had hoped-but it was better than I had originally had expected.

Stu wasn't as furious about the breakup as I thought he was going to be, he only seemed a tad bit frustrated with something I couldn't understand. Even with the many accusations I had tossed his way about screwing Tatum and wanting (Y/n) all for himself. He seemed only focused on the fact that (Y/n) wouldn't be around that much anymore-he has a serious problem he needs to solve.

And I told him that. (Y/n) isn't his-and she never will be.

That's what started it-the rampage the boy went on. I had never seen Stu so livid from just telling him he couldn't have her. The one girl he wanted. He did not place his hands on me or anything but kept screaming for me to get out of the house. I did leave in a rush, afterall I had my current new boyfriend outside waiting to comfort me.

But when the news broke out, things started to flip upside down. I think the only person that was disappointed in me was (Y/n). She couldn't believe what I had done-cheating on Stu with Steve and causing such drama amongst the group. In my opinion I had done nothing wrong-it was Tatums fault for fucking Paul then going after Stu while we were in a relationship.

I didn't understand why she was taking Stu’s side either, it hurt hearing she didn't want to lie to him and say I didn't do what I did. Or how much I hurt him.

I lost my temper. I'll admit it, yelling at her wasn't the way to go. And I might have said something I wasn't proud of. But it was how I felt at the moment- she didn't need to worry so much over Macher if she was MY friend! If she was MY everything!

But that's the thing she's not mine. But she should be.

August 12th 1996,

Today was the first day of school, my senior year. One semester away from saying goodbye to these bloodsucking vermin in the dust once and for all. Mom wished me luck this year, we had a long prayer at the breakfast table for scholarships and hopefully a bright future ahead. The only thing that seemed out of place was the empty chair beside me; (Y/n)’s place at the table.

This was the first time she wasn't over for the first day of school with me. We usually had sleepovers the night before, gossip-made bets on what's going to transpire but no-I had made the ultimate mistake of yelling at her and degrading her for voicing her opinion.

I called her Stu’s whore.

I didn't mean it of course, but it was something I said to hurt her-the last thing I had wanted to do.

The first day of school was okay, it turns out I have a few classes with (Y/n) and Sidney, fortunately I don't have any with Tatum ,Stu or Billy. But Randy is in my science and history class. Randy wouldn't shut up talking about how cute (Y/n) looked today, and I couldn't shake the feeling of jealousy as many men in the school watched her up and down the school halls.

She wore her hair up into a high afro ponytail, swirls of her hair laid upon her head. I couldn't help but stare at the loose flannel-her shoulders were bare, and she wore some jean shorts with some beat up converse. During class I couldn't help but stare, even with Sidney encouraging me to speak to her I couldn't. And I felt as though if I tried talking to her about it something else might have transpired.

I couldn't tell her my feelings for her. What would my parents say? Not to mention the whole student body. Being gay in this town isn't uncommon but many people, especially adults are old fashioned. Last time I checked (Y/n)’s Aunt even had something sly to say about girls viewing each other's bodies if they are not family.

I can't win. Not if I leave this hell hole and start anew.

Would it be a possibility that (Y/n) would come with? Come with me to start a new life away from all of this? I would let her watch movies whenever she wants and help her through school.

I want her dreams to become a reality. I want to be there every step of the way, to see her on that red carpet of the movie she makes. The series of horror movies that would have the world in a chokehold.

I want to be that wife, her holding my arm as she waves shyly to the cameras for me to beam down at her in pride.

I would give her everything Stu couldn't and more!

August 13th 1996,

I can't believe Tatum had the nerve to try to give me advice to please Steve in the bedroom! For her information Stu’s so obviously pretending she’s (Y/n) while fucking her brains out. The worst part is everyone knows about Tatum and Stus relationship now, not that they're a fan of it-it's just new gossip.

Apparently (Y/n) didn't like the relationship, that's what Sidney said. But I don't understand why. Everytime Stu gets into a relationship with someone (Y/n) says it's not a good match- or both parties deserve better.

It's almost like she wants him-

(The page was torn off halfway)

August 15th 1996,

(The page is filled with many crossed out words and x’s making it illegible to read) (It was almost as if she couldn't bare to process what she was writing)

August 17th 1996,

I couldn't take it anymore! I had to talk to (Y/n) and make up with her! These past few days of silent treatment were getting to me. Not only has Tatum noticed, but Sidney as well. It was embarrassing to know that her other friends have been asking me what's going on when I've known her for the longest. They don't even care about her as much as I do!

But it's not just my feelings for (Y/n) that have been consuming my thoughts lately. I've been struggling with my sexuality, and it's been eating me up inside. I've never told anyone, not even my best friend, about the way I feel. It's like this big secret that I'm carrying around, and it's starting to feel suffocating.

I know that (Y/n) would never judge me, but the fear of rejection and the unknown terrifies me. What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if she thinks I'm weird or gross? I can't risk losing my best friend, but at the same time, I can't continue living this lie.

The looks that Stu and Billy have been giving me lately only make things worse. It's like they know something about me that I don't even know myself. I feel like a fraud around them, like they're constantly judging me.

I don't know what to do. I'm so confused and scared. All I know is that I can't keep living like this. I need to talk to someone, anyone, about how I'm feeling. But who can I trust? Who can I confide in?

For now, I'll keep my secret to myself and focus on repairing my friendship with (Y/n). But I know that this is something that I need to address eventually.

Of course she was reluctant to talk but I had bribed her to let me in with three packs of her favorite popcorn and of course five packs of licorice. She took the popcorn and candy and allowed me to have an hour to say what I wanted to say before I was asked to leave.

I understand her anger. We've been best friends for years, and I called her such an unforgivable thing because I was jealous of the attention she was giving Stu. I felt terrible, and I told her everything. I apologized and begged for her forgiveness. I could see the pain in her eyes, and I knew I had hurt her deeply. But thankfully, she eventually forgave me, and we hugged it out. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

But now, I'm left feeling guilty about how I treated (Y/n) and how I let my jealousy get the best of me. I need to work on my insecurities and learn to communicate my feelings better. (Y/n) is my best friend, and I never want to hurt her like that again.

August 31st 1996,

(This entry was ripped out aggressively to what seemed like not too long ago.) (investigators eventually found the entry locked in a secret chest underneath Becker’s bed along with her previous diaries and most treasured items.)

September 8th 1996,

Slowly but steadily I've been getting closer to (Y/n), we've even started making plans on what to do for Halloween! It's her favorite month. All the decorations, costumes, and of course the horror movies. She did seem a bit down today when I mentioned dressing up together as playboy bunny girls, clearly she was expecting something more her speed.

I know-I know what you're thinking. Why would I want to dress up as a playboy bunny costume when (Y/n) clearly wants to dress up as a slasher? Well it's simply because it gives me an excuse to have her wear something revealing all night, and second she's a slasher every single year.

It's time to do something different. No more bloody (Y/n). Instead we'll have a super hot one instead.

In the end she said she would think about it, but with the way she looked over longingly at Stu and Billy; maybe just maybe I should be a slasher with her this year.

September 15th 1996,

Unfortunate change of plans, my parents announced that they were visiting family the week of Halloween. And for once I hated the thought of leaving here without (Y/n) by my side. In the past with her being alone on Halloween always sits wrong with me, and the fact is she wouldn't be alone; Stu and Billy always ended up being there.

Sick? Stu and Billy would come over. Aunt Gia unable to take her to the movies? Mrs. Macher would fill in, Stu dragging (Y/n) to the backseat. If I was out with the other girls dressing girly? Billy would immediately pull out a Micheal Myers mask and a bucket for candy.

I just can never get the timing right on Halloween to be with her. On her favorite holiday.

I might as well push these feelings to the side and let Stu or Billy have her this Halloween. Just like they always do. This time Tatum and Sidney won't be able to deny their boyfriends attraction to (Y/n).

September 19th 1996,

I can't believe I lost my diary for three days! And that's not even the worst part. Tatum was the one who gave it back to me. I was spiraling, hoping that she had some sense and did not read any of it.

Imagining the thought of her reading it sent chills down my spine. Not only would Tatum be out for my blood but (Y/n)s as well; even though the two girls get along fine now- I just know Tatum would immediately flip the script and try to ruin her life.

So what if (Y/n) had feelings for Stu and Billy. She likes Randy now. Even though I’m trying to be the main contender for her love-even I had to face the reality that she wasn't going to go for someone in a relationship. If I was to confess my feelings to her it most definitely would have to be after I dump Steve.

Don't get me wrong, the boy is really nice and sweet. He'd be the perfect boyfriend for me if I wasn't you know ‘a little sparkly’. The sex is good too and he even knows how to communicate well. The only argument we've had thus far was about how much time I've been spending with (Y/n) lately, it resulted in me crying and guilt tripping him.

He was getting a little bit too close to the truth.

But that's not what I'm afraid of. This afternoon I asked Tatum how she found my diary. Turns out she wasn't the one who found it.

It was Stu who had it for the weekend.

September 21st 1996,

Tonight (Y/n) came over to hang out as usual. Soon we were gossiping and talking about others' relationships before it shifted back to mine. (Y/n) apparently don't like how quickly me and Steve got together, and to be honest she was making some good points. Hooking up with boys and then immediately becoming a couple was very misleading and isn't how relationships should be formed.

The conversation got intense however once she suggested we watch a horror movie, we fell back into our normal routine. She did say something that threw me off though. She said if I was in the horror movie I would be the dumb blonde that dies first.

As if! I'm clearly too smart to die in a horror movie! I joked around with her about it and asked if she remembers the promise if I were to die. Of course she remembered but knew she wouldn't have to do it till we were daily older.

To me it doesn't matter how old we get together. She'll always be my everything in my eyes.

I had asked Steve to come over Wednesday to watch a movie, but obviously that's not what we're going to do. That night will be the last time I ever mess around with a boy, and Thursday morning I'll be single and ready to confess to my best friend.

I can only hope she reciprocates my feelings.

☿

August 31st , 1996

Last night was a total nightmare. I don't know who to be more angry at Sidney-or that bitches friend Tatum! We were all invited over (Y/n)’s house to sleepover and have a great time.

Unfortunately things took a twisted turn-

Screams emitted through the TV as the four girls settled across the living room floor. (Y/n) was snuggled up on Casey's side sharing a blanket as Tatum and Sidney were laid across the couch; apparently Tatum valued comfort rather than the floor, but Sidney did remain on the floor laid up against the couch with her sleeping bag.

It was a good thing the movie had subtitles since it was in Japanese; the plot in the movie was about a series of mass murder of teen girls who've all dated the boy. Upon the grand reveal it turns out it was his childhood best friend, her love for him was so obsessive that she resulted in killing all potential suitors for her friend. One might argue it was sick and twisted, but was it so different from many murder cases in the US? Sure some of the scenes were very violent, including the parts on how she disposed of the bodies; however jealousy and obsession can turn deadly quickly if not caught on to.

The alleged ‘final girl’ ran down the school corridor, running into the male protagonist as he tried to calm her down. Her hand was gone, blood practically spraying and pooling along the floor, (Y/n) would have to give it to the directors, the protruding bones look so real.

“All bets in that she's not going to survive,” Casey muttered.

(Y/n) hummed, “Yeah she already lost her virginity, so she already lost in that regard. Not to mention she was seen drinking a few scenes ago.” The two friends had watched so many scary movies at this point that they could predict when someone was going to die, or the ‘twist’ the directors were trying to pull.

The killer rounded the corner, her mouth and face going slack as the male lead and her locked eyes. The boy seemed shocked for a moment before he began to question her on why and how she was doing this. The subtitles were fast but the girls could get the gist of what was being said from the brief words on the screen.

“Wow,” Tatum scoffed, “What a love confession. Someone please kill me if I ever become that desperate over a man.”

“Wait,” Sidney watched as the boy started to step closer, his eyes brimming with tears, “Is he…is he confessing back?! After all the girls he’s slept with and had died due to her, he wants a relationship with her?”

This caught (Y/n)’s attention, she watched how the two childhood friends embraced one another as the other girl cried out to the boy pleading for him to stay-to save her. Only for the male to take the knife from the killer and kill the final girl himself. Something about the scene made it hard to look away.

‘How can someone choose a killer rather than the innocent?’

“He's in love with her,” She muttered, “so much he's willing to kill another innocent person in order for them to be together.” Something fluttered in her heart at the sheer devotion they have towards one another. They way they looked at eachother-no more secrets all the obstacles that were there before have been removed. The two halves of the same whole acn be together at last.

The screen cuts to a house, the childhood friends had gotten married and one would guess moved to another city to leave their choices behind. What caught the afro haired off guard was how happy the couple looked, they had even achieved a loving family; a pair of twins and a four year old boy all sitting at the table sharing grace before credits started to roll.

Casey shifted a bit, “Well, that movie was-,”

“Amazing-,”

“Shit,” Tatum snarled, “How can he want that ugly bitch and kill the good looking one? Isn't this Japanese? Wasn't it the standard to marry for good looking kids and successors?” The girl's attitude threw the other three girls for a loop.

(Y/n) still wanted to argue her point, “I think it's a good film! It's a lot different from the horror movies I usually watch, and I think the fact that the childhood friends got together despite everything was a good twist and satisfying ending.” She got up from Caseys side and went to retrieve the tape and grab another movie, “Here, we can watch a Chick flick next since you didn't like-”

“You think all childhood friends should end up together huh, (Y/n)?”

The girl paused her movements at the question. She didn't understand why the question seemed so-hostile. Casey sat up and shot Tatum a look, clearly disliking where this was going. Sidney on the other hand had a very uncomfortable expression on her face, almost like she was expecting this.

“Well, sometimes yes,” (Y/n) shrugged the stranged feeling off, “Think about it. They’re the ones that know each other most inside and out. Look at most successful marriages for instance-they were either childhood friends or friends and with each other for a long time.” She popped in ‘She’s All That’ before turning to the strawberry blond, “Plus my parents were childhood friends. That's why their marriage was so successful.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room.

Something shifted behind Tatum's eyes; malice, spite, fueled by jealousy. “Oh, so you're assuming that Me and Stu’s relationship is going to be temporary since we were not childhood friends?”

(Y/n) made a face at the mention of her friends name, her heart contorted “No! That's not even what I was trying to say-”

“It was implied-”

“Fuck off Tatum,” Casey barked, “The only reason why he’s with you is because your so willing to lay on you back for him.”

They all had to have known it was true. Tatum was so desperate for the boy to acknowledge her since the seventh grade. Going as far to change her style three times before settling on the busty mean girl persona; of course she wasn’t mean all the time-just liked the look.

Other than that Casey wasn't going to let the girl accuse her friend of these things without proof. (Y/n) wasn't the type to go after someone elses’ boyfriend; however with the information the blonde knew about she did feel a bit hypocritical.

Stu wanted (Y/n). Did she know if it was the same the other way around? No. Was she still going to defend her anyway? Absolutely.

Tatum whipped her head over to the other blond practically giving her whiplash. Her face was red now in embarrassment or fury one could barely tell. “Oh! Just like how you were so willing to do that same-,”

“At least I didn’t fuck my friends boyfriend while they were in a committed relationship-”

“It was only two times-”

“Two times too many!” Casey huffed, “Is this what you came here for? To start something with (Y/n) because you know she's the nicest out of the rest of us?”

Tatum rolled her eyes, “You act like she's a newborn, she can defend herself,” She took a swig of her cola before shifting her eyes to her best friend, “Besides I’m not the only one with questions, Sidney does as well.”

(Y/n) zeroed in on Sidney, the girl was fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater. Something about her whole demeanor screams ‘guilty as sin’; as if she just got done something unforgivable. In this case she felt pressured to get to the bottom of why Billy had this slight obsession with the girl in front of her.

Sidney did have a question about Billy and her relationship, and she wanted the girl to be honest about it. She wouldn't be mad if there was something before,but it would mean things between her and her boyfriend would be called into question.

“Y-you have something to ask me Sid?”

Sidney nodded, “Yeah, um I went over Billy’s house the other day, and I saw a lot of things in his room that surprised me is all,” Surprise would be an understatement, her heart felt like it was being ripped into thirds with the items she came in contact with. They haven't been dating for long but she felt like she really liked him, but there's only so much one can take, “You-uh-you guys have a lot of photos with each other. Even with his mom and dad-and uh-Stu was in some of them too..”

She was trying to give a hint to the girl about what she was trying to say. Sidney knew no boys or men who would have that many pictures of a girl visible. Especially in a relationship. It wasn't like it was just on his desk, no-it was all around his house. On the hallway walls, in his dads office-in the kitchen-everywhere. Mr. Loomis almost seemed shocked that Sidney even earned the title ‘Girlfriend’.

‘What happened to (Y/n)?’ Billy’s Father voiced out loud.

Billy stilled for a moment his eyes hazy, ‘(Y/n) has been busy with school lately,”

His father simply cocked an eyebrow and said nothing more. Sidney had never felt more embarrassed and out of place; she knew what the question really meant and what answer Billy’s father was looking for. He wanted to know why (Y/n) wasn't the one at the table with them with the title instead of Sidney.

“So are you asking if I have the same pictures as him?” The girl cut through the silence.

Sidney shook her head, cheeks pink. She didn't know why this was frustrating her-it was just a question. So with a deep breath she ripped off the bandage, “Did you and Billy ever have a secret relationship?”

(Y/n) sputtered as her face grew warm at the question, sure she had secretly entertained the idea of having Billy as a boyfriend but it quickly went out the window once she realized her long term feelings for Stu. It should've been easy to answer back at the question but she was so surprised with the way it was said threw her for a loop.

“No, me and Billy have never had that sort of relationship.” She finally stated.

The brunette didn't seem convinced, “What about the nickname they both gave you. Billy and Stu,” Billy had a habit of calling (Y/n) by her nickname rather than her real name, even in Sidney's presence. It would be different if it was something funny, or a common nickname given among friends, but it was so intimate. And (Y/n) didn't notice it like the other girls did.

Sidney didn't even have an intimate nickname. Billy just called her ‘Sid’ like everyone else.

“What nickname? You mean (N/N)? Billy and Stu haven't called me by that name in years-”

“No! The other one!” Sidney persisted, “The intimate one. You’ve got to remember, Billy calls you it all the time when you're not around-,” The girl paused for a moment, her thoughts sinking in. What if Billy and Stu never said the nickname to the girls face once they got to highschool; it has been a long time since Sidney and Tatum was thrown into the mix in regards to their group. “Did Billy and Stu ever call you anything else in your presence?”

The afro haired paused, thinking it over before answering. There was one nickname Billy and Stu used to call her by sometimes, but it was just while they were watching movies and alone with the three of them. It was around about ninth grade when the nickname was made; Billy insisted that they call her by it.

“Final Girl,”

There was silence again. If there was a way from steam to whistle out of Tatum's ears they all would have heard it.

“Excuse me?” Sidney said, “They call you what?”

(Y/n) bit her lip, “Final girl, Billy insisted I be called that. You know Final girls are the ones that-”

“That’s not the name I was talking about. You mean to tell me you have another one-?”

“Did you fuck Stu instead?” Tatum cut in, “If you couldn't have one friend you might as well go for the other one-”

“Tatum,” Sidney hissed. This wasn't how she wanted to go about doing things. Backing (Y/n) in a corner like this was just bullying her, and if she did have private relationships with either boy it wasn’t for them to know. (Y/n) even had the right to refuse not to answer.

The afro haired girl gripped her band tee in frustration, “I didn’t fuck anyone!” She got up and glared at Tatum in frustration, she didn't understand the girl's deal. She had won already, she had Stu all to herself, “You both have Stu and Billy as your boyfriends and spend so much time with them to the point we three don't hang out as much anymore! When would I have the time to even get the chance to do something like that?”

“Can we just all calm down for a second-,”

“Did you ever have feelings for Stu or Billy?!”

“What does it matter?!” (Y/n) cried, “You have both of them! You won! Tatum you fuck Stu every single day! And Sidney you watch movies with Billy all the time-!” The girl cut off a lump forming in her throat as she could see her favorite boys doing the activities with her friends. Something inside twisted and lurched-her eyes growing warm and sight blurry.

This was all enough for Sidney and Tatum to see the girls true feelings. One felt sympathetic with the reaction, the other on the other hand-.

“I told you!” Tatum pointed, “I knew there was something going on with those three! So how did it feel being Stu and Billy’s whore all throughout ninth grade-” The girl was cut off with a pillow connecting to her head.

Casey loomed over the other girl, her face contorted in rage, “Say that again. I dare you.”

The two other girls stood up immediately with how Casey was standing over Tatum, they knew if a hit landed there was no coming back from this. Also (Y/n) didn't want anyone to be fighting inside her house, her Aunt would have a fit knowing why her living room looked a mess. She would be okay with a bit of fun-not a full out brawl.

(Y/n) sighed sadly, “Tatum, Sid - you guys need to leave.”

A sad solemn look took over Sidney's face at the girl's tone, “Wha - No look I'm sorry can we just pretend this conversation didn't happen?” It was wistful thinking, but she honestly didn't want to leave things this way between everyone. They were supposed to have fun; Sidney wanted to ignore the boy problems for one day and just enjoy the presence of her friends without any problems. (Y/n) didn't deserve to be asked questions that way tonight, especially about the two people she saw as her best friends for the longest time.

“Pretend?” Said Casey, “After the two of you tried jumping down her throat! You want to pretend you didn't do anything?!”

The blonde stormed over to the two sleeping bags grabbing them and rushing back to the front door. Tatum finally got up from the couch in shock, following after the angry girl. Not a single one of them had ever seen Becker this upset, sure she argued and had a sharp tongue but throwing their things outside of the house was way beyond what they could imagine.

“Casey! Are you fuckin crazy-?!”

“For my best friend? Yes!” Casey yelled, “Now are you going to grab your backpack yourself or am I going to have to grab them for you?”

(Y/n) wiped tears from her eyes, “Cas at least let them call their parents-”

“Tatum's house is two blocks away, they can kick rocks.”

It was quick with how the girls left, and the afro haired girl felt a sense of dread with the door closing. It was only when Casey placed a hand on her shoulder did she break down. In some way she blamed herself for them-for their actions and jealousy towards her. She allowed her best friend to guide her towards the couch before she left to get some water and tissues. She stared blankly at the chick flick on the screen, she didn't know why she chose that one.

It was Tatum's favorite. And it was her least favorite.

Casey came back with a glass of water, tissues and a pack of red licorice in her hands, “You okay?” It was a rhetorical question of course, but it was better to ask rather than not asking.

“Would I really be considered a whore if I liked Stu and Billy?” The girl sniffed, “Is it really that bad that I used to have feelings for them? I mean I like Randy now but is it bad that I acknowledge Stu would never look my way because I wasn't enough-”

Casey grabbed the girl's hands, cutting her off , “You are enough. It's their fault they couldn't see that,” She proceeded to wipe the girls cheeks clean of tears, “And in my opinion they've lost the best thing to ever enter their lives. You.”

Silence filled the room for a moment. Nothing could be heard over the girls sniffles and the faint sound of the movie in the background. Casey simply held the girl in her embrace, rubbing up and down her arms in a soothing motion to calm her down.

“Casey,” The girl whispered softly.

“Hmm?”

“If I dont have anyone else, it'll just be me and you right?”

Casey looked down at her friend, a loving smile taking place on her pink lips, “Of Course. We don't need them. It'll just be me and you against the world.” The girl unexpectedly sprung up off the sofa and headed over to the pile of movies, “I think this chick flick isn't our speed! Lets watch another horror movie, any recommendations?”

(Y/n) gave a watery smile, “I got another japanese film we could watch,”

“Cool! Which one is it?” The blonde shuffled through the tapes.

“It's the one with the two bloodied friends on the cover. It's called, ‘Forget Me Not’.”

#billy loomis x black reader #billy loomis x reader #stu matcher x black reader #stu matcher x reader #scream movies #scream #casey becker #Spotify

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