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stevebabey · 1 year

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Eddie has a test.

It took some time to formulate, a few too many times with guys careless with his heart, who leave behind more heartache than happiness littered in their memory. It’s fucking hard to tell.

More than once, there’s been a dude who promises between kisses i’m not going anywhere and takes more than his fill during a night which Eddie desperately hopes is passion and not some misguided lust. Only to wake a familiar empty side of the bed, them gone — skipping town, back in the arms of their parent-approved girlfriend, or back to spitting his name out with the word freak.

It’s what the test is for.

It’s specific, purposeful, all intending to weed out the straight boys who liked to dip their toes in the pool of queerness and leave Eddie to any consequences of the heart. Eddie doesn’t want to turn cruel, to be too jaded after feeling used too many times. It’s what the test is for. Protect the heart, see what interest is genuine.

Right now, he’s putting the test on Jared. New in town and in Eddie’s life, he’d captured the metalhead’s gaze from the glint of his pierced ear and light eyes that lingered. Kissed a little mean, and with too much teeth, but Eddie chalked it up to excitement. Jared seemed good. Nodded and smiled when Eddie found himself wrapped up in yet another DnD spiel. Said he found it endearing.

The test is simple.

A bid, a nudge, for attention. Never anything big or too exciting— that always got him specifically warped smirks designed to lead him along. Just something minuscule, like will you come take a look at my notes? or can i play you that riff once more? to see if it gave.

The pattern runs deep in Eddie’s dating history; same ol’ jerks who couldn’t bother to come and look at his new DnD sketches are always the ones who are only leasing a new sexuality for a month. It’s like setting a minefield and seeing who stumbles on a landmine, the bids getting ignored is as early as a warning sign he’ll ever get.

He tries the test on Jared.

It’s a Thursday night and Jared’s round at the trailer, lounging on Eddie’s sheets and still a little flushed from the night’s earlier activities. Usually it’s a good sign when the guys stick around after sex, not flying out the door once they’ve got what they want. By now, Eddie has drifted away from his bed, skittish thoughts already off and away with new campaign ideas.

He’s scrawling in a character design, some new boss, half troll, half hellhound, that requires a lot of finicky details worked out. The page is covered in scribbles, nothing in any semblance of lines and a crude first sketch is in the middle. It’s not quite the vision he had in mind but it took him an hour, so he’s hardly going to erase it. Besides, it looks pretty fucking metal to him.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, a bit soft. No pet-names used— most of the time boys didn’t like them and wrinkled their nose. Those that didn’t mind, never returned them. “Can I show you the sketch I’ve been working on?”

He pauses, then launches into an explanation without waiting for a response, “It’s for the new campaign I’ve been planning, one of the bosses, and honestly, those little shrimps have no idea what’s coming for them.”

Jared, still slouched on the bed, peeks up a bit at the noise. He hadn’t really been doing much, just leafing through some of the junk beside Eddie’s bed. If Eddie let himself hold any hope, he would say it’s because he wants to know more about Eddie.

“Huh?” Jared asks, genuine enough that Eddie thinks maybe he didn’t hear him.

“A DnD boss?” Eddie says, eyebrows raising. He barrels on, thinking about how Dustin had helped propose the new boss, with a grin spreading across Eddie’s face. “Dustin, the little twerp, challenged me to pick a random combination of creatures and mash em’ together- see what crazy abilities come from it.”

“Who’s Dustin?” Jared asks, failing to sound like he cares. His eyes have wandered elsewhere, head falling back on the pillow and Eddie’s initial question about the sketch is long, long gone.

Oof. And that’s like 3 failed bids at one time because Eddie talks about Dustin all the time. Jared clearly isn’t interested in Eddie Munson, just what he can offer. Eddie’s heart grows a little colder.

“Look, I think I’m gonna get going, yeah?” Jared says, maybe sensing Eddie’s mood change as he begins to sit up and tug his shirt back over his bare skin. His sticks his feet in his shoes, laces them up. Eddie nods, tucks his notebook behind him and walks him out, plastering on a smile the whole time.

After ambling down the stairs to the trailer, Jared turns back, after searching the surrounding area for leering eyes, and he reaches out and gives Eddie’s hand a squeeze. Just a split second, before it flies back to his side.

Eddie would like to believe that he’s at least worthy of a goodbye kiss. Even if some wicked part of his brain says he’s not, that boys like Eddie Munson don’t get sweet goodbye kisses. Don’t get good relationships, just mindless flings.

The thought makes hurt flares in his gut, Eddie so desperately trying to protect his hope, and so before Jared can say anything, some pitiful goodbye, Eddie leans out the doorway and says, “Don’t call me.” then slams the trailer door.

It follows him around for the next week, his own personal storm-cloud to keep his head grey even when it’s sunny out. He mopes to Robin about it during her shift, probably the only other person he can talk to about it.

“So, you tested him? What does that even mean? Is there a gay test you know about that you haven’t told me about? That would be so uncool, man.”

She’s talking as she types, half paying attention to the computer. Steve is out in between the shelves, putting out a new batch of films— Eddie knows because he’d instinctively sought him out when he came in. Harrington was a pretty boy, sue him for wanting to enjoy the view.

Didn’t help he was also decidedly declared not-a-douchebag by Eddie during the whole upside down spiel and had the duality of biting off that bat’s head and somehow being the world’s biggest sweetheart for his friends. Friends that now included Eddie.

What can you say? Going through that much together, including killing a death wizard and getting dragged out of an alternate dimension certainly forms some strong bonds. Plus, Steve was hot.

(Eddie denies the crush on the basis that would. never. happen.)

At the reminder of Vecna, Eddie winces and supposes he should be lucky he gets any sort of attention after that whole scandal. But it doesn’t stop him from draping himself across the front counter, laying pathetically with a pout on his lips. He shakes his head fervently at her question.

“Not a gay test, Robin.” He stresses. “It’s the Eddie-Munson-is-this-boy-gonna-stick-around-test.”

He rolls up onto his elbows and props his head into his waiting palms. “Gotta make sure I’m not being treated like some common whore.”

It’s meant to be a joke, a usual joking lilt to his voice, but the end of the sentences comes out a bit too bitter to land that way.

Robin’s sympathetic expression makes Eddie’s chest twinge in a way he doesn’t like. He waves her off. Slumps back down a bit before deciding he’s done enough wallowing in the public eye.

Robin doesn’t say anything as he pulls out his usual notebook, pages weathered and filled. Eddie usually hangs around the store on days without plans, flits between Robin and Steve, and scribbles in his notebook. She bites her lip, gaze moving between the book and the resigned expression on Eddie’s face as he turns to the latest page— the strange hellhound troll mashed up boss.

“Okay, I’ll bite—what’s the test involve?” She asks, pausing in her typing for a moment. Her hands don’t stop moving, still stressing the fabric of her pants twitchily. Eddie perks his head up, clutching his pencil a bit tighter and rolls right into it.

“It’s not even really a test, technically, but doesn’t matter- that’s just what I call it - it’s like a bid?”

Robin raises her brows and they disappear under her fringe. “A bid?”

“Yeah! A bid!” He waves his arms around as he speaks, gesticulating a bit wildly. “It’s like— like asking them to come look at something stupid and small, just to see if they’ll give your interests time of the day, yanno?”

He punches a finger down into his sketchbook. “A guy who can’t even be bothered to look at a sketch I worked on for an hour? Douchebag.”

Eddie’s tone turns a bit sing-song as he continues, like it’ll somehow distract from the bleakness of them. “Ergo, not sticking around.”

Robin’s hands finally stop their messing, becoming completely still against her legs. She finally swivels her body to face Eddie, a furrow between her brows. Her lips are quirked up, just a bit, like she knows something Eddie doesn’t. He feels his apprehension grow as he slumps his chin back into his hands.

“You mean, like how Steve is with you?”

Eddie stands a bit straighter at that, some flushed combination of disbelief mixing with delight flooded his body.

“What?” It comes out a bit more squeaky than intended. Eddie clears his throat, waves his hands, anything to stop that smirk from spreading across Robin’s face — he can feel his cheeks glow a bit warmer at the mere idea. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Robin smiles a bit and nods over to where Steve is. “Try it, test him.”

Eddie follows her nod, casting his eyes across the store to find Steve. He finds him situated in the romance section, a pile of cardboard box stacked beside him, the top box open and ready to be unpacked.

But Steve’s clearly been distracted by the first film in the box — he’s sunk deep into his mom-stance with one hip popped, one hand on his hip, the other holding the film as he reads the back cover of it very intently.

Eddie watches for just a moment, watches Steve squint and pull the case just a bit closer, wrinkle his nose adorably, snort a little laugh at whatever he’s reading — and dammit, this is just a fast track to insanity if Eddie watches him any longer.

“Steve,” he calls, too hesitant and too quiet. Steve’s head doesn’t move, he just flips the cover back over, marveling at the front. Eddie tries again. “Harrington!”

Steve’s head pops up, eyes skirting about to see who’s calling him. He doesn’t move when he sees it’s Eddie calling, just raises his brows. “Yeah?”

Eddie swallows, tries not to think of Robin paying close attention to both him and Steve. He grips his notebook a bit tighter even though he’s not entirely convinced Robin’s right. Steve Harrington doesn’t like DnD — not even for Dustin who has self-proclaimed himself Steve’s ‘adorable little brother that he never had’. Steve is hardly going to care if it’s Eddie asking.

“Do you wanna take a look at this sketch I’m working on?” He asks, as casual as he can.

Steve’s features give away just a hint of surprise, a blink as he comprehends what’s been said. Eddie holds his breath, ready to turn to Robin and say ‘I told you so!’ and to pretend that he’s not secretly hoping Steve will say yes.

“Sure,” Steve says, slotting the film back into the cardboard box and beginning to meander between the shelves towards the front desk. Eddie doesn’t even get time to be surprised because Steve’s suddenly there, in front of him, all expectant.

Eddie opens his mouth, thinks the better of it, and snaps it back closed. Instead, he thrusts the notebook to the side along the countertop, opened to the page of the sketch and doesn’t say anything. In the background, Robin snorts lightly. Eddie shoots her a glare.

If Eddie could look at Steve, he’d see the lightly amused expression on his face, but Eddie only focuses on the book. Really focuses. God, if he looks at Steve he’ll probably get some stupid mooned expression on his face that would totally give away his tiny stupid not-a-crush.

In his peripheral, he can see Steve sidle a little closer and lean over to peer at the page. And while he looks over it intently, Eddie let’s his eyes drift up, taking in the side of his face.

Curses his stupid handsome face. Then curses it some more when Steve lights up in recognition, turning to Eddie, excited to have a sliver of an idea what Eddie’s showing him. Normally, it’s all mumbo-jumbo to Steve. Not that he hasn’t tried to keep up but those kids are ahead of the curve and Steve wasn’t about to embarrass himself asking them to slow down their explanations.

“Woah, is this that one that Dustin was talking about?” Eddie thinks there might be a bit of genuine excitement leaking into Steve’s words.

“The weird like, mashed up, uh, what’s the word? Hyp- hypb—“

“Hybrid,” Eddie supplies, voice cool. His heart is not feeling so cool. Jesus Christ, Steve wasn’t supposed to pass Eddie’s test— he wasn’t even supposed to be tested. In order for that happen, they’d have to even be fooling around and Eddie blames his building blush on that mere suggestion.

“Yeah!” Steve raps his knuckles against the countertop and takes a second look at the drawing, closer this time. He looks back up at Eddie, so he knows he’s completely sincere when he says, “This is really cool, man.”

“Okay.” Eddie breathes, sounding a bit stupid. He remembers himself, remembers Robin watching him essentially bluescreen at the praise from Steve and wrenches his awed smile into a familiar smug type of grin.

“Of course it is, Steve-o,” He quickly amends, reaching back and tugging the notebook back. It’s closes with a quick snap, like Eddie’s afraid Steve will take another look. “She’s not finished yet, of course.”

Eddie had to bite his tongue to keep it from either taking an insanely egotistical route to pretend Steve’s praise hadn’t had a profound effect on him, or even worse, start trying to suddenly be humble — oh this ol’ thing? it’s nothing really, just threw it together quickly— Eddie nearly melts against the counter in relief when the bell on the front door saves him.

A customer enters the store, instantly taking Steve’s attention and he bounds off to help them, an easy smile on his face.

Eddie waits until Steve and the customer wandered off into the aisles to release his breath. He doesn’t look at Robin, just turns and presses his forehead down against the countertop. Then raises it just a bit, and thunks it back down, a couple of times for good measure.

“Okay, okay—“ Robin’s gone a bit wide eyed and she waves her hands at Eddie’s pathetic form, his head still bonking against the counter. “Stop doing that. Jesus, Eddie, are the dramatics always necessary?”

His motions stop at Robin’s words and Eddie’s whips his head up. He narrows his eyes at her, and as if to prove his point, exaggeratedly jabs a finger at her.

“Hey! Never deny my right to be a drama queen. It is my god given right as an American citizen—”

“He passed.” Robin says, cutting off what was about to be a very long rant about god knows what. Eddie just didn’t want her to say what she was about to. “Your test. He passed, didn’t he?“

That. He didn’t want her to say that.

“He’s being a good friend! A very good nice friend!” Eddie counters, only sounding a little bit whiny which takes half the conviction out of his words. He slams his hands down against the wood. “That test is for— it’s not for him! It’s for—”

An annoyed noise comes out of Eddie’s throat and he aims for one more thunk of his head against the counter before tugging it back up and meeting Robin’s smug expression. She’s too smug. Her whole face is smug smug smug and Eddie scowls. He points a deliberate finger at her again.

“Different context, alright? That—” He waves an arm behind him, in the direction of Steve carelessly. “—doesn’t count. Nope. Not- that’s not how the test works.”

Robin sighs, as if she realises how fruitless it is to keep chucking this argument between the two of them. Her hands finally resume their typing and Eddie lets his head drop again, this time resting it against the wood a tad more gentle. He slumps, blowing a pointless raspberry as he tries to evacuate every thought that’s entertaining Steve as more. Or Steve wanting more of Eddie.

“Look,” Robin says suddenly, halting her typing once more. Eddie rolls his head so he can see her but doesn’t bother to lift it. She’s sideways in his vision, but still barreling on in that Robin way. “One last thing and then I swear, I’ll leave it.”

Eddie raises his brows. Says nothing.

“Have you considered,” She pauses, and appears to be trying to pick her words carefully. “whether anyone else is putting their bids on you?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, knowing exactly what she’s hinting at. Subtlety has never been Robin’s strong suit. It’s even more obvious when her eyes dart across the store — Eddie seriously doubts she’s talking about the random customer that had just entered.

“Just think about it?” She pleads, and Eddie feels his annoyance at how easily he can feel his heart roll over. “See if you notice any bids from... anyone! Anyone at all.”

Eddie picks his head up, chances a glance towards Steve and admits, there’s no harm in trying. Even though, Steve had surprised him today Eddie can find a dozen reasons to chalk that up to. A dozen reasons that don’t include mutual feelings.

Eddie mulls it over, because because what are the chances really? Steve putting bids out to him? To specifically Eddie? The chances are slim to none.

So the answer he gives is, “Sure.”

He’ll get to tell Robin later she can stuff it and wipe her smug expression off with the most righteous i told you so on the planet. There was no way she was right about this, right?

Part two. Part three.

#this is not nearly as edited as most things that come out this blog #but i was going for those rambly posts i see of them all da time #<3 #steddie my beloved #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #posting this at an odd time bcos it’s not what da usual followers expect #anyways i trust the gay ppl…… they will find this

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brbsoulnomming · 9 months

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Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 1

By the time Eddie is twelve, going to live with his uncle in a trailer in Hawkins, he only has a dozen or so words from his soulmate.

It used to make him guilty, that his soulmate was the kind of person who rarely lied, getting stuck with Eddie who spit lies out like they were the shells of sunflower seeds. Then it made him angry, that he only had a handful of shit like he did it! and I already washed my hands. A small spattering of normal kid shit, while Eddie had to say things like no, officer, I don't know where my father is and Mom's just not feeling well today, Mrs. Anderson.

Then, a year or so before his dad got caught for good, he got It's nothing, I just tripped and Yeah, Mom, I understand, I know he won't do it again and he thought - maybe his soulmate is the kind of kid who knows sometimes it's just better not to say anything.

Eddie can understand that.

Living with Uncle Wayne is - hard. It's hard because it isn't hard, not the way it should be. It makes Eddie say more things that he knows his soulmate will see on his skin, things like I never wanted to be here anyway, and I want to be alone, just leave me alone.

His uncle is endlessly patient, and it grates on his nerves because he wants it. He wants it so bad to be real, but he just - keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to be too much.

For Eddie to be too much for him.

It comes to a head one night when Eddie's mad at him over something or other, asks why he's doing all this.

"You're my kid, and that means I'm not going anywhere," his uncle says, all gruff and raw honesty, and Eddie can't bear it.

"You don't think your soulmate's going to get tired of all these lies that keep showing up?" he snaps, even though he regrets it the moment it's out of his mouth.

He regrets it even more when there's a heavy, aching silence, and he finally looks up at his uncle, eyes wide and terrified as he thinks this is it, he's finally gone too far -

"It's not a lie," Uncle Wayne says finally, holding Eddie's gaze. "You hear me? It's not a lie. I'm not going anywhere."

Eddie nods, and his uncle relaxes a little, then grimaces, like he isn't sure he wants to say anything else.

"I don't have anyone for lies to show up on, anyway."

He says it like it doesn't matter, but Eddie bursts into tears anyway.

Not everyone has a soulmate. The majority of people do, but it's not uncommon for people to never have words written on their skin. In school, they teach that it doesn't mean you can't be happy, it doesn't mean you can't find love. They teach about soulmate bonds that didn't work out - there's whole plays and novels and movies written about that kind of tragedy and misery, after all.

But sometimes there's still an undercurrent of pity, of bitterness. Outside of school - or inside it, when it isn't the teachers talking - some people say there's something wrong with people who don't have soulmates, some people say that they were meant for bigger and greater things.

Some people say that soulmates are supposed to be between a man and a woman, and every time someone who's queer gets a soulmate, it's because they stole them from someone else.

And Eddie doesn't believe that, not really, but he can't help but wonder if maybe his uncle does, and he can't stop crying.

Now his uncle is the one who looks terrified.

"Son, come here, it's all right, it really is." Uncle Wayne gathers him up in his arms, holds him close the way no one's ever done for him before, and just lets him cry and cry and cry.

Later, Eddie thinks about just letting it go, but - he has to know, he just does.

"Do you think someone stole your soulmate from you?" he asks as he's washing dishes, not looking at his uncle and hoping it doesn't sound anything like do you think someone like me stole your soulmate from you?

Uncle Wayne scowls. "That's a load of horseshit, is what I think. No one can control whether they have one soulmate or two or none, and it doesn't make someone greedy or a thief."

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it again. He's known about people with two soulmates before, of course, the same way he knows about people with none - and he's heard the comments about them being greedy same as he's heard comments about them being lucky, or a dozen other things people've theorized to explain it. It's just that it doesn't really tell him what he'd wanted to know, and he can't figure out how to ask without being more specific.

Uncle Wanye is looking at him real close, though, and there's something like a quiet acceptance that flashes over his features.

"No one can control who their soulmate is," he says softly. "Whoever yours is - they were meant for you in a way they aren't meant for anyone else. Love like that can't be stolen, kid, it can only be given."

He thinks about that for a long moment, then nods. "Okay."

"Good," his uncle says gruffly. "Now finish those up and get off to bed."

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First part of a Steddie and platonic Stobin soulmates AU I'm working on, where any lie you tell gets written on your soulmate! No idea how long this is going to be - it was supposed to be a oneshot but it just keeps growing, so I wanted to share at least the first bit of it.

Now with Part 2

#steddie #Steddie fic #eddie munson #Wayne Munson #Steve harrington #Soulmate au

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 6 months

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Being bisexual is NOT the bare minimum of being queer and I swear if I see someone say that again, I will yeet them several centuries into the past. Being bisexual is EQUAL to being queer as anyone else. Do not put bare minimum, least, or any other words that make us feel less than queer in front of the word bisexual. We're here, we're queer, and we are NOT going anywhere.

#bisexual #lgbt #lgbtqia #bisexual appreciation

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g1rld1ary · 2 months

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you never disappointed me - part three

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; after beckendorf does some research with silena, luke finally knows how to ask you out (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 2642

➻ warnings: ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos, alcohol, smoking

➻ so i immediately got hit with a ton of uni work lols (so mean for first week??) so this took a little longer than expected sorries!!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull @slaybestieslay946 @sflame15-blog @yourfavmiki @ivory-sage

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While you were being tormented by the two boys Camp Half-Blood (or maybe your mom?) kept sending your way, Charles was following Silena around like a lost puppy, noting down whatever she could find about you in your limited personal space in the Aphrodite cabin. After several minutes of nothing promising, he was starting to feel hopeless.

“She’s not a…” Beckendorf trailed off, looking for more delicate phrasing.

“Girl in Red fan? No. I found a picture of Heath Ledger under her bunk once so I’m pretty sure she’s not harbouring any queer feelings.”

“So that’s the kind of guy she likes? Pretty guys?”

“I don’t know,” Silena said impetuously, “All I’ve ever heard her say is that she’d die before dating a guy that smokes.” Beckendorf cringed. That was an issue. Silena continued mindlessly, digging through your drawers and belongings. She pulled out your reading list, planner and a sticky note of things you were going to do when you left after summer. Finally, Silena let out a devious giggle as she dug through your top drawer. She didn’t let Beckendorf wonder for long, as she pulled out a pretty pair of lacy black underwear.

It wasn’t the most scandalous piece of lingerie sitting in that cabin — not by far, but Beckendorf still blushed like the teenage boy he was, almost too afraid to look at the scrap of fabric.

“And, uh, what does that tell us?” He asked, eyes anywhere but the cloth.

“She wants to have sex someday, that’s what,” She said it as if it were obvious, and Beckendorf wished a hole would open up and swallow him down. He really didn’t want to be talking about your sexual desire right now.

“She might just like the colour?” He mumbled, hand running over his hair in an effort to ground him.

“You don’t buy black lingerie unless you want someone to see it.” Beckendorf felt kind of guilty, he figured he probably wasn’t who you had in mind when buying black lingerie, and it was starting to feel like a serious invasion of privacy. That was only heightened when Silena pointedly avoided telling him which area was hers, saying it was ‘private’. He rationalised his actions by praying to the Gods the plan would work and everyone would get a happy ever after.

Still, Percy and Beckendorf took this research to Luke in his semi-secret spot behind the training arena, where he could drink and smoke without being worried about being caught by the younger kids or Chiron. He didn’t look exactly happy to see them, but Beckendorf thought he might just be warming up to them.

“So, what’ve you got for me?” He asked, taking a swig of his beer.

“Insights into a very complicated girl,” Percy said, dislike of you obvious.

“Just one question,” Beckendorf asked “Should you be drinking if you don’t have a liver?” One of his new brothers had told him the rumour that Luke had sold his liver on the black market during his quest for a pack of cigarettes and a ticket back to camp.

“She hates smokers!” Percy interrupted, hopefully before Luke could process what Beckendorf had said, and very successfully redirected his focus as Beckendorf grabbed the lit cigarette out of his hand, snuffing it out on the dirt.

“So I’m a… non-smoker now?” Luke spat the words, sounding almost disgusted with himself.

“Just for now,” Beckendorf assured him. “And one more problem — Silena said that she likes ‘pretty guys’.” A tense silence fell upon them and Charles wished that sometimes he would think before he spoke. Luke’s gaze on him was heavy and intimidating, and if Percy wasn’t there with him Beckendorf probably would have cowered and escaped.

“Are you telling me I’m not a pretty guy?” Luke asked, and if he had to say, Beckendorf thought his attitude right now definitely wasn’t helping his case. He and Percy shared a quick look before reassuring Luke that he absolutely was a pretty guy, they just had limited experience in deciding those labels. Satisfied, Luke glanced at the list Beckendorf handed him of all of your interests and engagements. He frowned, and both the younger boys exchanged uneasy eye contact.

“So what, I’m supposed to buy her noodles and books and sit around listening to some shitty girl power band?” He asked, dread and boredom evident in his eyes.

“Have you ever been to Club Skunk? Her favourite band is playing there tomorrow night,” Beckendorf provided, disheartened by the quick shake of Luke’s head.

“I cannot be seen at Club Skunk.”

“But she’s gonna be there! She’s got tickets!” He protested, and Percy put a subtle hand on his arm.

“Dude, everyone you know is here. No one’s gonna see you at Club Skunk and think you’re less of a man or whatever. I’ll tell everyone you’re off in the woods smoking weed or something.” Luke looked at them for a long moment, seemingly considering the offer. Finally he agreed, and Beckendorf thought it may have just been to get them to go away, but he was happy enough.

Luke, having gotten over the humiliation it would be to go to Club Skunk, was more than interested at the new piece of information he’d just learned. He thought he was the only one who snuck out of camp, and he wondered how often you did it. Reasonably frequently, he guessed, since you were going to all the trouble to see a band that probably played around the state constantly. You just kept on surprising him, and though it was all a bit of an effort on his part, he had started to enjoy getting to know the parts of you that you kept hidden behind the icy exterior.

You, on the other hand, were getting really weirded out. You might’ve just been paranoid, but you were sure that the new Hephaestus kid who was friends with Percy kept staring at you. Even Percy glanced at you more than once during dinner, something you didn’t think had ever happened before — and you were not looking for attention from the camp’s golden boy, no matter how many times he’d probably saved your life by extension of his quests. Those two, coupled with Luke, whose attentions had inexplicably been focused on you for the last week, made you feel a bit like an animal on display; violently uncomfortable. As you left the meal you shot Beckendorf a nasty glare, somewhat satisfied when he jumped and averted his eyes. You shook your head in a physical attempt to clear the burdens of your thoughts. Soon you wouldn’t have to worry about any of the campers or the stupidity that flowed around the grounds.

About twenty minutes after the campfire started and the rest of the camp were safely together, you began the trek up to the Hamptons — the closest city with a venue. You waited anxiously for the bus to pick you up outside the camp lines, looking over your shoulder to ensure no one had caught you. If your adventures got around camp then Silena would absolutely tell your father as payback for being the reason she can’t date, and that was a whole new set of issues you really didn’t care to deal with. Luke, standing in the shadows watching, felt almost bad for spying on you. Almost.

You could feel your shoulders relax as you got further and further away from camp, the judgement and expectations of people you didn’t even like far behind you for the night. You’d been looking forward to this show since you got tickets with your friends during the school term, and you were determined to make it worth the pain of summer. And it really, really was. Your whole friend group had made it, making it a long awaited reunion, and the band was one you’d been following for years. You danced with all your energy, gleefully shouting lyrics and laughing loudly when you got them terribly wrong.

Luke watched this from his seat at the bar, entranced in your private bubble amongst the chaos. You were smiling — a rare sight at all at camp — but this was one he didn’t think he’d ever seen in all his years of knowing you. It wasn’t filled with pride like the ones you tried to conceal when you got a new record on the climbing wall or you finally beat Clarisse in a training match, nor was it the satisfied smirk you had when you put an egotistical camper in their place or beat up jerks like Ethan. Your smile was alight with joy; relaxed and wholehearted happiness that spread through the room and seemed infectious to anyone who passed you.

It was at that moment that Luke truly understood how you were a daughter of Aphrodite. The way the lights reflected off your hair and your eyes, the easy way you moved your body to the music, everything about you suddenly seemed perfect, and he wondered how he’d never noticed it before. Your appearance hadn’t changed drastically; your hair was loose instead of the practical up-do needed for camp, you wore a tight fitted crop top instead of the camp shirt and you might’ve had some glitter smeared around your eyes. All inconspicuous, ordinary things, yet you seemed like a brand new person. Luke decided he liked this version of you, and if this whole plan failed, at least he’d gotten a glimpse into your real world and behind the facade you hid with at camp.

He was ripped from his thoughts when he saw you make a drinking gesture to your friend, heading towards him unwittingly. He turned in his seat hurriedly, trying to act cool and unaware. You spotted him almost immediately, persona switching up as disgust crept back under your skin.

“If you’re going to ask me out again, could you just get it over with now so I can get back to enjoying my night?” You sighed, grabbing the water bottles from the bartender.

“Would you mind? You’re kind of ruining this for me.” Luke gestured around, hoping his acting chops were as good as he needed. You ignored it either way.

“You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke,” You noted, curiosity getting the better of you.

“I quit. Apparently they’re bad for you.” You raised an eyebrow, almost too surprised to come up with a quip.

“You did?” You hated how genuine it sounded and turned to go, sensing him get up to follow you.

“You know, I was watching you out there before,” He yelled over the music, “I’ve never seen you look so sexy.” In possibly the worst timing in history, the song ended and the entire club was treated to Luke’s compliment. You both flushed red, and you were unable to contain a small giggle — wildly uncharacteristic for you. Luke, to his credit, only had a mildly sheepish grin on his face, and continued to follow you across the dance floor. “Come to the Apollo party with me.” You couldn’t believe him! Here you were, miles from camp and he was still asking you out. Though, you couldn’t deny that he wasn’t quite as infuriating as you originally thought.

“You never give up, do you?” You gave a good natured sigh, ducking under someone’s arm to get to your friends.

“Was that a yes?”

“No.”

“Was it a no?”

“No!” You let out another laugh which floated over the crowd and straight to Luke. He couldn’t contain his own grin.

“I’ll pick you up at 9:30!” He yelled back. You gave no indication of having heard him apart from a momentary glance, and he couldn’t tell if the smile was directed at him or just a byproduct of your situation. He took it either way.

Having gone to the effort of sneaking away from camp, Luke decided to stay for the remainder of the concert and grudgingly decided the band wasn’t that bad. Not his style, sure, but he could kind of see why you liked them. Besides, these drinks were easier to get than the contraband ones he had to smuggle into camp.

Tired from a night on your feet dancing and feeling your pleasant buzz slipping away, you were less than charmed seeing Luke waiting for your bus. It made sense, obviously you were going the same place, but you didn’t want him to ruin your great night by pestering you about a date.

“What are you doing here?” You asked bluntly, eagerly sitting on the misshapen little bench.

“Getting home?” He trailed off, unsure of what you were looking for. “Besides, we’re a long way from camp and it’s late. Didn’t feel right leaving you here alone.” You hated that you thought it was sweet.

“Do you not think I can take care of myself?” You picked a fight instead, unwilling to be genuine with him. Luke wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it.

“I have complete faith in you,” He laughed, “I’m making sure you don’t kill whoever bothers you.” You let out a snort of a laugh accidentally. You tried to recover,

“It’ll be you if you’re not careful.” Somehow Luke didn’t believe you.

Surprisingly, the trip was almost pleasant. Luke had already gotten what he wanted from the night and the next phase of his plan was shaping up, so he knew bringing up your impending date would only sour your mood. Instead, when he plonked himself down in the seat next to you on the bus, you talked about mundane, silly things. He asked about the friends you were with and let you talk about your life in New York, waving you off when you started to feel guilty since he was at camp all year.

“There’s this really cool record store, we go there all the time. They have this huge bulletin board on one wall where these tiny little bands put up posters for random gigs with, like, fifty people there — it’s so sick, like the 90s I guess. Maybe —” You cut yourself off but Luke knew where you were going. Maybe I could show you. You would deny it if he brought it up, but he couldn’t contain his smile either way.

You were surprised that you had so much to talk about, briefly wondering why you’d never been friends with him before, but the conversation continued all the way to the camp border, where you both knew the risk of sneaking back in meant your night together was over. Once you got into camp there’d be people all around; campers should be in bed but counsellors often patrolled for a while, and many of the non-demigod folks around camp could be up and about well into the early hours of the morning.

“So, um, I’ll see you around?” His sudden shyness was unexpectedly charming, and you found yourself giving Luke a smile — a real one that made his heart flutter embarrassingly.

“Bye, Luke.” You held eye contact for a fraction longer than necessary before disappearing into the shadows. Luke watched you go, not quite starstruck but close to it. A rustle of the trees behind him spurred him into action, but the image of you on the dance floor played on repeat behind his eyes as he lay in his bunk.

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀#love #fluff #luke castellan #pjo series #percy series #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson show #percy jackson tv show #pjo #luke castellan pjo #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #percy jackson #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you

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lavcommunicatez · 8 months

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i love you nonspeakers. i love you nonverbal people.

i love you nonverbal people who prefer to be called nonverbal. i love you nonspeaking people who prefer to be called nonspeaking. i love you nonspeaking nonverbal people who tired of debate about terminology or can’t keep up with it and just want be heard and communication rights respected.

i love you people who not speak ever since birth ( hi! ). i love you people who use to speak but experience regression / catatonia / burnout or with degenerative physical disabilities. i love you nonspeaking nonverbal people with acquired disabilities.

i love you multimodal communicators. i love you people with complex communication needs. i love you apraxic people who are unreliably speaking. i love you minimally verbal people. i love you semiverbal people. i love you speaking people with selective mutism with intermittent speech ( who listen to us and not speak over )

I love you nonspeaking nonverbal autistic people. i love you nonspeaking / nonverbal people with other intellectual & developmental disabilities. i love you nonspeaking / nonverbal people with apraxia / dyspraxia ( full body or apraxia of speech ) . I love you nonspeaking nonverbal people with brain injury with stroke with aphasia with genetic disorders. i love you nonspeaking / nonverbal people with mental health disabilities that affect language ( eg schizophrenia ) .

I love you AAC users. I love you users of text based AAC. I love you users of picture based AAC. I love you users of low tech AAC. I love you people who can’t afford the big expensive robust systems and rely on free apps or low tech for that reason. I love you people who need small grid size. I love you people who need visual accommodations to AAC like high contrast. I love you people who need alternate access like switch , eye gaze , head track , joystick , partner assisted scanning to make AAC accessible. I love you nonspeaking / nonverbal people who use sign languages. I love you PECS users. I love you letter board users. I love you people who need human support to use AAC , people who use methods like FC and RPM and S2C and all the “ discredited ” method that are constant at risk of being take away from you.

I love you nonspeaking nonverbal people who haven’t found a way to communicate with words that works for them yet. i love you people who communicate mostly or entirely with behavior with gesture with pointing with vocal sounds not words. i love you people who only way communicate is what the system calls “challenging behavior.” I love you people who communicate through violent meltdown, who SIB and hurt others , run away unsafely , destroy property etc and who are punish institutionalize incarcerate or other abused oppressed instead of helped find other way to communicate. i love you nonverbal nonspeaking people who won’t ever see this post, who under institution control or informal more subtle control and don’t have access to social media , or who disability make social media hard , or who just don't like / have interest in being on here (was me for a while !)

I love you nonverbal and nonspeaking people who have found a home in the nonverbal / high support need community on here and who feel like experience is represent. i love you nonverbal and nonspeaking people who have found a home in offline AAC / nonspeaking world like CommunicationFirst and the spellling to communicate conferences. I love you nonverbal and nonspeaking people who not find their " home " in the disability / nonverbal nonspeaking community yet , who not see own experience represent anywhere.

i love you nonspeakers of color. i love you nonspeaking nonverbal queer and trans people. i love you physically disabled nonspeaking / nonverbal people. i love you mentally ill / Mad nonspeaking nonverbal people. i love you poor nonspeaking nonverbal people. i love you nonspeaking / nonverbal people not from global north.

i love you nonverbal people. i love you nonspeaking people. we are great and we deserve to be heard.

#sorry if post sound bias / prioritizing nonspeaking term over nonverbal by writing it first or sometimes forget write both #prefer nonspeaking and instinct is write first but both equally good!#institution mention #long post #nonspeaking #nonverbal #semiverbal #autism #i/dd #disability #lav talkz

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cardentist · 1 month

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Fam how can one be trans in the direction of their assigned sex? I'm not even trying to make the idea sound ridiculous or anything. I'm genuinely curious and want to understand. I thought the whole meaning of trans was that you feel or act in the opposite direction of your assigned sex; if you're transfem but you're afab then to me that's just cisgender??? But like please explain to me how that's not the case if that's what you and others strongly feel so I may grow my compassion

Context: [Link]

well ! while I personally am not intersex, I DO want to highlight intersex people first and foremost.

gender and sex are very Very complex, and I think generally people don't consider the way that being intersex can play a big role in that!

there are intersex people who are afab who are also trans women, there are intersex people who are amab who are trans men, there are intersex people with many Many different relationships with sex and gender and anywhere in between !

an afab person can be born with masculine sex characteristics and transition the way trans women often do. that person May identify as trans, they may not ! that trans person may not even consider themselves a woman depending on who they are and what they want !

I Do think there needs to be an effort to be aware of and make space for intersex people within the trans community, and really the wider queer community as a whole. as it's often something that's given a footnote without deeper thought into the ways that intersex people Actually interact with our communities.

which I don't blame people for not already knowing ! that's the whole point of trying to educate people in the first place ^^

and as for Myself

labels are, ultimately, a form of gender presentation. what you call yourself is an extension of not only how you see yourself, but how Other People perceive you.

I could call myself nonbinary or I could call myself trans masc, and both would be Accurate. but people have certain traits and expectations and associations when they see those labels. there are assumptions made about the kind of life that I live, the things that I want, the things I might experience, that change depending on which labels that I use.

and that's not Inherently a bad thing ! I mean, that's part of why people Like labels. but it Can be a struggle for people whose gender is Funny.

I could Also describe myself as genderqueer or multi-gender or genderfluid or gnc or-. I've tried on lots and lots of labels, and for the most part I haven't thrown any of them out, I just keep them in a box under my bed and take them out when relevant.

I've been wrestling with the feminine aspect of my identity for a very Very long time. I've been aware that I'm some level of trans masc. that part was easy. I want a deeper voice, I want things about my body to change, I don't want people to look at me and see a cis woman.

but I Also like femininity. I've found that after accepting myself as trans masc and slowly growing an environment where I am Perceived as masculine, I've started getting euphoria at presenting femininely in the Same way that I did (and do!) get about presenting masculinely.

but that feeling doesn't carry over when I'm perceived as a cis woman. it's Quite Uncomfortable for obvious gender reasons.

and while I may not know the exact Words that I'd use to describe it (as I've said, I've been chewing on it for Many years now), I've gotten a clearer idea of how I Feel.

I want to be Visibly trans. I want to be perceived masculinely And femininely. I want to transition masculinely to present femininely (and sometimes butch, sometimes like your dad at the ace hardware store, I contain multitudes).

and of course, figuring out what I have going on has involve a lot of exploration ! it's the same way I figured out the whole trans masc thing in the first place. seeking out other trans people and other Things About trans people feeling things out.

I find ! that I have a lot of shared experiences with transfeminine people. both in how I feel about certain things, some of the presentation that I want, and in how people would React To said presentation.

my femininity Is Trans, I don't relate to cis womanhood. but I Do relate to trans femininity. which is really awkward for me, because it's difficult to describe it to other people fjksldljkasfdjklfasd

(I don't personally consider myself a trans woman mind, but I'm certain there Are people who are trans men and trans women at the same time. gender is complicated, sex is complicated. labels are malleable and sometimes situational)

Could I describe myself with a different label? probably ! I've got lots of them. but when I Don't put emphasis on this aspect of myself people assume that it's not there. insist that it Couldn't be there, and I don't know what I'm talking about. and those people who Would act nasty towards me probably aren't gonna change their mind just because I changed my bio. but it feels Nice to assert that aspect of myself when other people are trying to tear it down.

part of me feels like I should post the intersex portion of this by itself, because people tend to engage more with shorter posts and there's nothing Short about my gender situation ljkfdasjkls

but ! I dunno, if this makes even one person understand the gray areas of gender and presentation a little more it'll be worth it.

thank you for taking the time to ask ! and especially for doing so kindly ! I do hope you'll see this

#discourse #long post #intersex #genderqueer #nonbinary #multigender #trans unity #queer unity #moral of the story is that gender is a fuck

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tma-thoughts · 3 months

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Ive been thinking a lot about the bechdel test. If you've ever been anywhere on the internet, you'll know it as a test of a piece of media's female representation; a movie passes the bechdel test if 2 female characters have a conversation about something other than a man

What i think is so interesting is that, similar to the evolution of the "5 stages of grief", the bechdel test was never meant to be a measure for female representation, at least not the way it is now. The "bechdel test" was created by alison bechdel in the 80s in her comic dykes to watch out for, in which a character says she'll only watch a movie if it fits the aforementioned requirements

Bechdel got the idea from a friend, liz wallace, who in turn might have gotten it from an essay by virginia woolf. In the wider context of the strip, the "test" was a method applied by queer women to see if they could interpret female characters as also being queer

Bechdel described it as a "little lesbian joke" that was never meant to be taken seriously, but as we know the test caught on in the 2000s and is now used as a standard of female representation, with rules added on like the characters must both be named, and they must talk for at least a minute

I guess you could call it a sort of butterfly effect? A lesbian artist in the 80s writing a joke from a friend in her queer comic strip led to standards of gender bias in media 40 years later. That's the part that i really find interesting. There's something to say about queerness affecting popular culture but i can't think of a way to word it

#bechdel test #lesbian #queer #feminism #lgbtq

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eternalbuckley · 5 months

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We could have had it all. — rafe cameron

SUMMARY: Rafe and you used to hook up with each other until you broke it off. Now he wants to get your attention back.

word count: 1,854

genre: angst | gn!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings: mention of sexual content (no smut), use of petname (baby), strong language, alcohol consumption, crying, emotional talk, use of Y/N one time, english is not my first language, slightly proofread — if i forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: I've been thinking about a long time to finally write for Rafe and here it finally is!! It's my first full fic in months but hopefully you can enjoy it!! Happy reading 🫶

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know! reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and welcomed!

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Doing anything possible to distract yourself from reaching out to him got harder every passing day since things broke off between you. It‘s not like you were together or something. You couldn’t keep doing this 'we-are-people-who-like-each-other-and-occasionally-have-sex-with-each-other-but-are-not-in-a-relationship-or-friends' thing that you had going on with the infamous Rafe Cameron. It was draining you and your mental health. Sure, it was fun and good times with him. You would never lie but the thing that made this even more complicated were your feelings for him. You didn’t plan on falling for him but in the end, the heart wants what it wants. He made it hard for you to resist falling for him.

Rafe was not the perfect person to fall in love with. He never talked about feelings or showed them in public. But there were a very few small moments that showed him in his more vulnerable and caring side. There were moments when Rafe would snuggle up to you after having sex with you. His soft sighs made it more special for both of you. Rafe loved these moments. Including the moments where you two would just lay in bed without having sex. Just cuddling, him stroking your back and telling you about one of his more recent accomplishments he was proud of. Were he would crack jokes with you and tell you how comfortable he feels. He just would never admit that he loves these moments though. But you tried to hate these moments especially because the next day he would act like nothing of that ever happened. But you couldn’t.

If you two were in places with others he would barely look at you nor talk to you. Unless he was feeling horny and needed you. Rafe would find a good moment to catch up with you when nobody would pay attention and whisper things into your ear to get you worked up. ‘Ready to get out of here, baby? Can’t wait to leave you screaming underneath me.’ All until you would be whimpering and practically begging him to drag you into the next bathroom or any possible spot to hook up. Afterwards? You didn't exist to him. But you couldn’t keep doing this. Being treated like this was not what you wanted no matter how much you liked Rafe. It took you many tries to finally tell him you don’t want this anymore.

It was after one of your occasional meetings to sleep with each other. He was lying next to you in his bed, catching his breath and looking at the ceiling instead of you. After you caught your breath, you made the decision to end it.

“What are you doing?” Rafe eventually looked at you and watched you getting up to gather your scarred clothing.

You put on your underwear and looked at him while taking your shirt. “What does it look like, Rafe?” you put on your shirt, “I’m putting on my clothes.”

He was confused and sat up. The blanket slightly moved and exposed his stomach, “Why?”

“I’m leaving.”

Rafe nodded his head and leaned back against his bed. “When will we see each other the next time then?”

“This was the last time. There won’t be a next one. This thing here,” you pointed between you, “This is over.”

“Sure. As if you wouldn’t fold the next time when I whisper all those things I’d do with you. I know your body too well by now,” he chuckled which made you roll your eyes.

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

That was all you told him before you left and never came back. And it was the last time you had sex. Since then, it had been almost two months but it was still hard to ignore him whenever you saw him. Whenever you did, you immediately turned around and went the other way to get out of his way. It’s not like he would give you attention anyway. But little did you know that it drove him crazy that you ignored him. Especially tonight.

There was a party again and you looked absolutely breathtaking. All night he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Most of the time Rafe completely ignored his friends talking and only had his eyes on you. He wanted and needed you but couldn’t have you. But seeing you talking and seemingly flirting with another guy made him go feral. Rafe’s jaw was tensed up and he was gritting his teeth. He was trying to control himself but seeing you happy with another guy and all giggly made him want to beat up that other guy. He knew you were tipsy and close to making out with that guy since your and his hands were all over each other already. But he wanted to be the one you were touching like that. He wanted to be one who makes you laugh and smile like that. He was desperate. For you.

Rafe took his last sip out of his alcohol-filled cup and threw it away. He made his way over to you and harshly shoved away that guy from you. He fell to the ground and let out a muffled ‘what the fuck man’.

“Take your hands off her, asshole,” Rafe spat down on that guy. Not caring at all that this drew all the attention of the party to the three of you. He was in a rage and jealous.

You stood behind Rafe and looked at his back. You were shocked by the sudden action from his side.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?!” The other guy stood up, not knowing what he was getting himself into. You wanted to stop him but you couldn’t move.

Rafe was fuming, “You’re my problem. Get the fuck away from here or you’ll meet my fist,” he raised his voice. Rafe’s nose was flared.

“What are they? Your partner or what?”

Suddenly you became very aware of the attention you all had on you. You looked around and saw a few people whispering while watching the scene that was going on in front of you. You slightly put your hand on Rafe’s arm which startled him for a second but you noticed that he eventually slightly relaxed to your touch.

“Rafe come on,” you insisted and tried pulling him away from the guy you were talking to and the attention of everyone else.

Rafe’s eyes were still locked on the guy while you were pulling him away. You ended up on a more private part of the beach. Once you made sure you were out of sight you angrily shoved Rafe.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” you shouted, “Why would you do that, Rafe?”

He looked at you, not exactly knowing how to explain why he did it. Simply because he had no good explanation at all. He just did it out of instinct as if he had to do it even though nothing was going on between you anymore.

“You had no right to do that!”

You were angry. Angry at him. It was the first time he truly saw you being angry with him and he wasn’t sure if he should have done it now. All he wanted was your attention.

“I… I’m..” he stuttered, “I’m not sure.” Rafe held his arms in front of you, trying to calm you down.

You scoffed and crossed your arms, “Sure. Why would the Rafe Cameron have an explanation for why he wants to control every single person around him even if they want to be left alone. Ever the guy who threatens everyone.”

Rafe sighed and closed his eyes while moving his palms over his eyes. You knew what it meant when he did it. He was shaking and overwhelmed by the sudden burst of feelings. He didn’t know what to do. He never cared about anyone that much until he met you. Everyone knew he wasn’t the guy for emotions but he felt calm and more happy around you. The moment he first realized what he truly felt about you he started pushing you away. Rafe was afraid of the feelings he held for you. He was never in love, nor did he know how it felt to be loved except by his little sister.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I did.”

“Don’t,” you shook your head. You didn’t want to believe him. You were tired of the games he played with you. “I know you aren’t, Rafe.”

“Listen to me, Y/N,” his voice cracked as he looked up at you. “I am sorry. I.. I know it’s wrong what I’m doing to others most of the time. I just lose control in m..moments like that and I don’t know what happens. Y..you know? I’m trying. I’m trying to be better...For you. I want to be with you,” his voice was trembling and tears were in his eyes. He covered them with his hands again.

You didn’t know what to say and just stared at him. The sudden talk about his feelings was overwhelming for you. You didn’t know he would be able to talk about his emotions at all. It was quiet between you for a moment.

You sighed and shook your head, “As much as I want to believe you, Rafe. I can’t. Not after the way you treated me.”

“I understand.”

Tears were building up in your eyes now. “No. I don’t think you do, Rafe! I felt miserable. You never dared to give me attention whenever we were in the same room unless you needed me for your needs,” you argued. “You just want me back because you don't have my attention anymore. You loved that I gave myself up to you whenever you wanted it, Rafe. But you never cared about me or what I wanted. I didn't exist to you until you needed someone to fuck. Even if you could have had anyone else… In the end, you always came to me because you knew I couldn't resist you. You used me. I was good enough for a quick fuck.”

“That’s not true. After all, you enjoyed our times together.”

“I never said I didn’t enjoy sleeping with you. I just didn’t enjoy the way you treated me every other time we weren’t sleeping with each other. I didn’t feel like a person around you and that’s why I ended this whole bullshit with you.”

Rafe gulped. You turned your body away from him and tried to hold back your tears even more. You didn’t want him to see you like that. This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want him to know how you truly felt. You clung on your cardigan and looked at the moon that was reflecting in the ocean.

Your voice was trembling now. "Just tell me that this was a fucking lie. That everything that happened between us was not real. That every word you said, every compliment, was a goddamn lie and you didn’t mean one single thing. Let’s just act like nothing ever happened and act like strangers again."

"I can’t," Rafe whispered which made you look at him.

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weird-an · 11 months

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Billy isn't Jim's son and he never will be.

He's a hurt kid that kind of needed a safe place and apparently Jim is caring enough to not let him end up in the streets when he found him sleeping in his annoying Camaro for seven days in a row.

So now Jim is living with a psychic teenager and scared one in a Cabin in the woods. It's a struggle.

Billy doesn't know how to act around him and it's not that Jim can blame him for it. It's not like there's a manual for fucked up people living together. The place is bursting with tension and one day it will go up in flames and possibly take the whole forest with it.

Billy either hides in his room or is out on a date. He's got a lot of dates. So many that Jim thought he might have a girlfriend. It took Jim three weeks to get the courage and just talk to Billy. Communicating isn't his strongest suit.

"If you've got a girlfriend, she can come over, too," he repeats like he had practiced in the mirror for at least five mornings.

Billy freezes. He's chewing on the inside of his cheek and stares at Jim like he's accusing him of commiting felony. Which Jim doesn't, even though he notices the faint smell of weed sometimes when he comes home after a nightshift. To be honest, he'd rather that Billy shared his stash. They both need to calm the fuck down.

"Nah," Billy says, "It's only hot chicks for one night for me."

He doesn't look so sure. In fact Jim thinks he might sees him mouthing the words back at himself when he goes out that night.

The truth comes to light a week later, when Billy is sick. He's coughing, his chest rattling, skin grey and his eyes are red.

"You're not going anywhere," Jim says and positions himself in front of the door. "You're sick. Cancel the date. I'll make you a tea or whatever."

Billy mopes in his room for an hour, after Jim catches him trying to sneak out of the window, when he brought him his tea and a cup of instant soup.

The kid seemed stunned and annoyed at the same time, but at least he eats and drinks what he is given.

The door bell rings. Billy drops his spoon and wants to get up.

"Back to bed," Jim grunts when he's going to get the door.

Steve Harrington stands in front of him. Preppy as usual, even though more hairspray in that mop of hair - or so Jim thinks.

"Is Billy here?"

"Why would you care?" Jim frowns. He didn't know people like Harrington even hung out with people outside of their bubble.

"We were supposed to meet." Steve rubs his neck. "Billy... didn't show up."

Jim needs a whole minute to process that.

"Fucking hell." Jim rubs his face. When did he sign up for this? He doesn't even know what queer means, he didn't sign up for this. It's like when Sara first tried to walk and Jim discovered that the kitchen had a lot more corners than he thought.

He leads Steve to Billy's room. Opens the door. Billy gapes at him.

"Your hot chick for one night is here," Jim grumbles, because he isn't sure what else to say.

He closes the door, when he hears Steve saying "you called me a hot chick?" followed by a "oh man, I'm sorry you caught what I had last week."

Jim pours himself a whiskey on the rocks. It's surreal.

But he's kind of glad Billy has a friend. Or... boyfriend, rather. Jim isn't sure if that's the name for it. He hasn't ever met a gay person.

God, he's so lost. He wants to do it right, he finds. Because Billy isn't Jim's son, but sometimes Jim feels like his father.

#exhausting hopper with harringrove #making this a tag ficlet after ficlet #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy #jim hopper #jim hopper & billy hargrove

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essentiallyleaf · 6 months

Text

day 22. daddy kink. with. sakura.

758 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, futa!idol x female reader, daddy kink, cockhungry reader, somewhat rough sex, i’m not feeling very funny tonight.

notes.

they just keep getting shorter! i swear it’s not because i’m procrastinating writing until 12 a.m. though. exhaustedly, leaf.

You met the girl in a mall, she was reading Kafka with the most peaceful, relaxed air, like there was a desert around her, when in reality it was so crowded and loud that you couldn’t hear your friend talk to you from across the table at the coffee shop. She later told you she likes to hear the sound of the artificial waterfall beside the escalator while she reads; you told her, go to the river; she told you, it’s not the same, people go to the river to relax, I don’t read to relax; you asked her, what do you read for?; she answered you, I read to understand what the writer is like in bed. Anyway, you went up to her and asked whether she knew if there was a library in the mall - you knew there was one right around the corner, but pick-up lines aren’t your forte; whose forte are they, if truth be told? - and if she had a book to recommend. “Well, it depends, what do you like?” It’s very easy to make conversation, if you think about it: you can start anywhere you want, and it’s like tributary streams, at some point you always end up channeling into your common interests.

It’s just following the course of the river that leads to her writing down her number on the paper towel you’d gotten with your coffee - “It’s Sakura, by the way, but you can call me Kkura,” she said with a warm smile, like she loved her name, like she had chosen it herself - to the two of you meeting again (neither of you used the word date, but in retrospect, well, yeah) in a bar downtown. They didn’t call themselves a gay bar, but the place had queer written all over it; I mean, Monthly Murder Mystery Monday? Really? To the two of you seeing each other four times in the next week, to her asking if you wanted to come to her house to have a drink after the fourth, cause she wanted to show you her wild animal plushie collection. One thing that surely was wild was the sex, that night. Kkura was plunging into your pussy from the back as you were bent over her bed, ass in the air, and she felt huge inside you. Your face was sunk into the soft light gray-brown fur of the sloth when it escaped your mouth.

“Ngh- ahaadhd- …addy!”

“What did you just say?”

“I- Nothing, I’msor-”

“Again.”

The thing about a river’s delta is, it splits very gradually, just one extra fork at a time, so you don’t really notice how wide it has spread until you’re already deep into it. You start calling her daddy every time you’re hungry for her cock, and she feeds you (the unholy sound of your slurps fills the room like there’s three girls sucking it at the same time, but no, it’s just little old you), then every time you’re hungry. She’s the sweetest girlfriend, you know she’d always get you whatever you’re craving if you asked nicely. You call her daddy when it’s just the two of you, then if there’s close friends around. They still smile jokingly when it happens, but they understand, they know what it’s like; not to be with a girl whose rod that can rearrange your insides, but to be lucky enough to be next to someone that you love and to not be afraid to show it. You almost have a slip up the first time you meet her parents: “Dad- Da… Dadaism was, pretty… wacky, wasn’t it? Duchamp, what an eccentric soul, haha!” Even the save is embarrassing, but it’ll be a great story to tell your kids; ok, maybe not your kids, maybe your friends.

She’s your daddy when you sit on her lap and start grinding on it while she’s having breakfast, when you lay your head on her shoulder and she gropes your tits, only covered by a thin beige t-shirt, while you’re watching Worlds, when she fucks you missionary and slaps your thighs until they become red like your cheeks at her parents’ house, and her fingers gently wrap around your throat, and she kisses you like her throat is burning and only you can help relieve it. You can’t separate freshwater and salt, once you’re out in the sea. It’s all mixed together, as one. And it’s not good or bad, it’s all just part of a natural cycle. Sakura, Kkura, daddy; any name, any place, any time.

footnotes.

my favorite shirt from Raygun is the one that says ‘Iowa: flee to flourish’. friedly, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #idol x reader #idol x female reader #le sserafim #sakura #miyawaki sakura #le sserafim sakura #le sserafim smut #sakura smut #miyawaki sakura smut #le sserafim sakura smut

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