#tw mentions of marriage

[sp0o0kylights]

Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it. 

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it. 

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned. 

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design. 

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy. 

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job. 

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family. 

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead. 

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents. 

How his money went into a bank account they had access to. 

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line. 

And boy, had he been acting out of line. 

 Getting into fights. 

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills. 

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.) 

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for  was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track. 

His own plans be damned. 

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

 “We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot. 

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen. 

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas. 

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!” 

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him. 

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”  

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go. 

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong. 

xXx 

Mike hadn’t cared. 

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months. 

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.) 

Max was the surprising emotional standout. 

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest. 

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them. 

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him. 

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage. 

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh. 

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again. 

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.) 

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.” 

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy. 

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?” 

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”  

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max. 

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. 

xXx 

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom. 

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble. 

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter. 

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago. 

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck. 

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles. 

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!” 

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.” 

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large. 

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road. 

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone. 

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it. 

Now he just stared tiredly at her back. 

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case. 

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second. 

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it. 

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort. 

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.” 

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone. 

It was just---Nancy did know. 

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life. 

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year. 

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that. 

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down. 

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.) 

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.” 

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to. 

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin. 

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now. 

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm. 

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough. 

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…” 

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them. 

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt. 

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car. 

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit. 

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things. 

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?” 

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice. 

A third time for good measure. 

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.” 

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really. 

Not anymore. 

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused. 

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in. 

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy. 

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’ 

 He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly. 

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.” 

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet. 

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise. 

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut. 

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point. 

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand. 

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. 

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?” 

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left. 

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.  

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin. 

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed. 

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking. 

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him. 

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal. 

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door. 

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open. 

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to. 

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward. 

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents? 

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes. 

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing . 

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there. 

xXx 

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead. 

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that. 

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it. 

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough. 

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone. 

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him. 

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in. 

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away. 

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.) 

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt. 

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan. 

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can. 

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times. 

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out. 

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.” 

Then; “It gets worse.” 

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans. 

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl. 

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid, 

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.” 

Steve stayed silent. 

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones. 

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.” 

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut. 

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now. 

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--” 

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer. 

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.” 

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry. 

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him. 

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.” 

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done. 

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”  

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie. 

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.” 

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news. 

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.” 

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…” 

He’d put his wife first. His family, first. 

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one. 

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess. 

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored. 

 They’d warned him. 

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic. 

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was. 

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.” 

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle. 

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary. 

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind. 

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come. 

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie. 

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger? 

 Steve would bow to their whims. 

 Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it. 

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand. 

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work. 

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish. 

Steve would try anyway. 

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck. 

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.” 

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine. 

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?” 

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one. 

Not  when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it. 

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.  

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was. 

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him. 

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins. 

No matter how long the engagement. 

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him. 

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think. 

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel. 

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others. 

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin. 

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.) 

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other. 

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?” 

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there. 

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question. 

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway. 

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart. 

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce. 

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest. 

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse. 

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead. 

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly. 

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve. 

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too. 

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!” 

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so. 

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!” 

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either. 

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.” 

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying. 

Speaking of; 

 “When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been. 

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home. 

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice. 

Part Two

#lol remember when I said I wasnt posting parts to stuff until they were finished #THAT SURE LASTED LONG #pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #0o0 fanfics #This is very Steve focused #TW his horrible parents #VERY hurt #comforts later #with eddie! #I really wanted to explore Steves Parents #in proper Rich Asshole Controling fashion #TW forced marriage #or mentions of #I also wanted to explore a lot of how the kids #and Nancy and Robin (who are also STILL kids #would react because sure they came up against monsters and the government #but neither of those things want you to like them #theyll let you know theyll eat you #Steves parents #like many rich dicks #want to isolate #want you to think theyre amazing #and its often the inner circle who knows whats up but are also caught in their own chokechain #hence the title of this fic #whiiiich is chokechain #stranger things #tw drinking

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hi, sorry to bother you but I would like to ask for a post from Leona, where Cheka is trying to get her two favorite people married (ie Leona and the reader)

Hi! Sorry it took me so long to respond to your ask! I had a bit of trouble writing this one, but over all I had fun too. I hope you enjoy!

Duly-Noted - Leona

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ sfw/ featuring Cheka/ request

Word Count: 1790

Leona huffed out a sigh as he watched Cheka play with you on the floor of the Ramshackle dorm from his relaxed lounging on the couch.

It hadn’t taken him long to figure out his nephew’s scheme when, as soon as the little fuzzball had appeared, he’d cheerfully stated that he wanted to come and play with you. Of course, Cheka had given himself as soon as he’d included his demands that Leona come along with him, even though he’d been to visit you at Ramshackle dorm plenty of times on his own.

Cheka was definitely fond of you, and Leona couldn’t really blame the kid considering how you patiently played along with the child. But that wasn’t what was really going on here.

What was going on here had more to do with Cheka’s pressing questions about why Leona so often told family members that he wasn’t particularly attached to anyone at school.

He could still see Cheka’s bright eyes looking up at him with an insistent frown on his face, “You know that is true, Unca! You like Y/n!”

Leona had snorted at his nephew, shaking his head at the child and, for once, was genuinely amused, “And what makes you think that?”

“You look at them the same way Papa looks at Mama. And Y/n likes you too! Why don’t you just take them home with you? Then you don’t have to worry about leaving them here while you visit us!” Cheka was as determined as Leona had ever seen him, but it was a drastic misreading of the situation.

Leona had plenty of reasons to not want to visit home, and none of them had a thing to do with you. But the moment he’d told the child that, Cheka had smiled. 

He’d been all but beaming up at Leona from where he sat on his lap, hands fisted in Leona’s shirt like he thought his uncle would run away, “But you do like them.”

There were moments, like right then, when Leona almost wondered if Cheka was more intelligent than his father. Perhaps he’d taken after his mother in that sense. But then Cheka’s hare-brained plot for tricking you and Leona into a relationship certainly hadn’t been well schemed.

After all, Leona wasn’t the only one who'd caught on. You had, too. Though, to be fair, Cheka wasn’t exactly being stealthy with his questions about how, “Wouldn’t it be great if we all lived together?”

Leona had fully planned on handling it, but you'd only smiled, shaking your head and saying you’d talk to Cheka about it, “He’s just a kid after all, and he doesn’t mean any harm. There’s no need to come down on him so hard.”

Leona had only eyed you with rising eyebrows before shrugging, “Have it your way. But he won’t drop this easily. He’s a stubborn little thing.”

You’d snorted, elbowing him lightly as you went by to rejoin his nephew, “Must run in the Kingscholar family.”

And that had been that.

Truthfully, Leona hadn’t known what you’d told his nephew, but Cheka had fallen largely silent on the matter of a possible romance with you after that. 

In hindsight, though, Leona really should have known better to think that was all there was going to be to it. Nothing was ever that simple. Especially when you or his nephew were involved.

He had to hand it to Cheka, though; he’d been completely caught off-guard when the child had suddenly questioned him about his wedding plans. Especially since it happened during a trip to Sam’s with Ruggie.

Cheka held up the little ring-shaped lollipop, and before Leona could even start to refuse to buy the treat for him, the child spoke with innocent curiosity, “What kind of ring are you going to get for Y/n when you two get married?”

Leona blinked, his eyes widening as he stared at the child who just stared up at him while Ruggie did a spit-take and Sam’s eyebrows lifted. The only sound that broke the silence was the occasional beep as Sam continued to scan items.

Leona finally frowned, crossing his arms as he eyed the child, “What makes you think I’m going to marry the Herbivore?”

Cheka frowned almost immediately, as if he were trying to mirror his uncle’s expression, “Y/n and you like each other. But Y/n said they couldn’t move in with us until you two had gotten married. They said people would talk since we’re royals and they aren’t if you didn’t.” 

Cheka’s expression slowly shifted to one of concern, his tiny hand reaching out and grasping Leona’s pants leg, “You are going to marry them, aren’t you, Unca? Y/n’ll be sad if you don’t.”

Ruggie only barely managed to contain his laughter in an ugly-sounding snort that had Leona shooting him a look while a smile began to creep across Sam’s face.

“Did they?” Leona’s gaze shifted back to his nephew as he spoke, his tone careful as he eyed the child. But he was already putting two and two together without Cheka having to say anything.

You certainly had talked to Cheka about it, but now Leona was going to have to talk to you about this.

Ruggie wiped his eyes lightly before kneeling, humor still flooding his voice even as he eyed Cheka, “Well, marriage is a pretty big deal, Cheka. Leona can’t just go proposing without putting some real thought into it.”

Cheka frowned, but Ruggie only titled his head, reasoning with the child easily, “Y/n deserves the best, don’t you think?”

Leona watched, eyebrows raised, as Cheka frowned thoughtfully before his tiny face cleared like a sun coming out from behind clouds, and he nodded, smiling widely, “Oh! I see! Leona wants to sweep Y/n off their feet like those princes in the stories Mama likes so much.”

Leona didn’t even bother hiding his groan as Ruggie snickered mischievously, nodding and egging on the child, “Exactly, so you’re going to have to give him some time to do just that.”

Ruggie paused, glancing up at Leona with a grin that had Leona glaring at him warningly. But the hyena beastman was hardly even phased as he looked back at the child seriously, his eyes sparkling with poorly disguised mischievousness, “We’ll both have to support him, Cheka.”

Cheka’s expression turned determined as he nodded before looking up at Leona, “Good luck, Unca!”

Leona sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out an annoyed, “Uh-huh,” as he watched Ruggie lead his nephew out of the store.

 He would get Ruggie for what a mess this was inevitably going to end up being, as well as deal with whatever the little mercenary wanted in exchange for his assistance later. First, he had a certain herbivore to find.

And he couldn’t complain that you were hard to find. But then you never were.

You were, as ever, at Ramshackle. Working on upkeep for the run-down building on your day-off, just like you usually did on the weekends when you weren’t working at the Mostro Lounge.

Leona didn’t even have to call out since Grim handled letting you know he was here for him.

You turned, blinking up at him in surprise, before a smile split its way across your face. Leona wasn’t really looking at you, though. Instead, he was staring at the busted chair you were apparently working on with a frown. 

How the crossbar had wiggled its way out, was beyond him, but that was evidently enough, what had happened.

“Leona! No little prince with you today?” Your voice was bright, and Leona found himself looking back your way as he propped himself in the doorway.

He crossed his arms as he looked down at where you were seated on the floor, tilting his head at you, “Nope, but a certain little prince did tell me what you told him the other day.”

You blinked in confusion before your eyes slowly cleared, and you let out a small chuckle, shaking your head slightly, “Oh, that. He bought the marriage excuse pretty easily, and at least that way I didn’t have to lie or something like that to him.”

Leona felt his eyebrows rise at your words as you twisted to go back to work on the chair, seemingly unconcerned by what side effects your words might have had.

“Yeah, but now that he’s found out we’re dating when no one else has, he’s going to report directly back to either Falena or his wife,” Leona pushed himself off the wall as he spoke, walking over to where you were.

You simply shook your head at his disgruntled words, a smile on your face, “I still don’t see why it would be so horrible for them to know. But even if he does tell them, they probably won’t believe him. Not if Falena is as concerned about your love life as you say he is.”

Leona frowned as he watched you before kneeling and reaching around you to help you support the chair while you fought the crossbar into place, “No, he’ll call and ask all sorts of questions or, worse, have his wife ask me all sorts of questions.”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly, “You’ll be able to handle it if it comes to that. But, like I said, I really don’t see why it’s a big deal if they know or not. I’d like to meet your family.”

Your words caused his eyebrows to lift once more as he glanced over at you, watching as a frown crossed your face.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, confusion accenting your voice as soon as you spoke, “How did you find out what I’d told Cheka anyway? Did he just tell you?”

Leona let out a huff, his ears twitching as he glanced off to the side, “He saw one of those lollipop ring thingies at Sam’s and asked me what sort of ring I was going to get you for the wedding.”

You laughed aloud, earning yourself a look even as you shook your head in light-hearted amusement before glancing at him, “Hopefully nothing like a Ring-pop. That would be hideous.”

Leona grinned, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, “You don’t want something big like that?”

You snorted, shaking your head, “No. I think a rock that size, even a fake one, would be a little heavy.”

He let out an amused huff, turning his eyes back to the chair as he idly considered what sort of ring might actually be best, “Duly noted.”

After all, your thoughts on it all mattered too, even if you didn’t know that held actually had been looking at some rings already.

#Twisted Wonderland imagines #Leona x reader #Leona Kingscholar #Leona kingscholar x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #request #featuring Cheka #mywritings #it-happened-one-fic #leona x you #Leona x y/n #Twisted wonderland x reader #Twisted wonderland x y/n #Twisted wonderland x you #twst #twst x reader #twst x you #twst x y/n #Disney TW #mentions of marriage and rings #sfw

[sailor-brunette]

I am sick and tired of seeing shit takes from people about how characters like Sawako (Kimi ni Todoke) and Miyo (My Happy Marriage) are "unfeminist" because they're shy and soft-spoken. When Miyo is literally that way as a SURVIVAL TACTIC because SHE WAS FUCKING ABUSED And Sawako is showed to have social anxiety and the other kids are shown to kind of bully her. But both girls gain confidence and strength as both series progress. NOT ALL WOMEN HAVE TO BE STONE COLD BADASSES TO BE STRONG!!! Geez…

#Brunette ramblings #Brunette salt #Abuse mention TW #Bullying TW #Shoujo #Shoujo manga #Shoujo anime #Light novels #Kimi ni Todoke #From Me to You #Sawako Kuronuma #My Happy Marriage #Watashi no Shiawae na Kekkon #Miyo Saimori

[sunnysideaeggs]

Thinking about how since ancient times, young girls and women were married off to their rapist to safeguard their honor. How they believed it was the only way to leave behind their shame and continue being respected in society. How there’s registers of women who wished to stay celibate (like Hera, the Greek goddess of marriage) and had to marry their abusers. Even the bible has such a law to protect a young maiden’s honor. How in a medieval society, marriage was the only escape from shame after failing to maintain yourself chaste.

How Criston Cole begged for his rapist to marry him and run away with him, so he wouldn’t be killed for failing his celibacy vow, and would be able to restore his honor, if not as a kingsguard, as a married man. How he was laughed at. How he tried to kill himself to get rid of his shame. How he thinks it was a failure of his character to be abused and taken advantage of.

#sunny cooks 🍳🍷 #criston cole #pro criston cole #anti rhaenyra targaryen #tw rape mention #tw forced marriage #team green

[eternally-frozen]

Sakura Blooms

Synopsis: You ask Childe to bring you a flower that’s on the other side of Teyvat. It’s a simple plan to get him away from you for a while, but he turns the situation around and makes you regret ever deceiving him. Had he seen through your plans?

Warning: Forced marriage, implied kidnapping, toxic behaviour, implied abuse (?) // its mentioned he locks you up in a room in the dark for hours when you don't behave

Note: This is absolute shit :( Wanted to write something about the dendrobium bc of the lore (I had a whole plan lmao) but I somewhere did a 180 and suddenly wrote 1k about something different??? It’s fine.

Song recommendation: None. I couldn’t fine any in my history that fit </3

“I want Sakura Blooms.”

He’s silent for a moment. “A what now…?”

“I saw them in the book you gave me. I want them.”

Childe frowns in confusion as he tries to remember where exactly he heard ‘Sakura Blooms’ and what book you’d been talking about.

When you point to the small table between the fireplace and the couch it clicked.

He’d given you the book after you complained about not being able to understand Snezhnayan. He assured you you didn’t need it with him by your side – he was all you need, but apparently when you grew bored you’d become crankier (or so he asserted), so Childe went to the nearest bookshop and asked for any books with pictures.

The shop owner showed him a few books but one specific one caught his eye. The cover was green with hints of pink, something cute that reminded him of you, so he bought it as a small present.

You’d been throwing fits every day ever since you arrived in Snezhnaya, something he understands since it must’ve been a big change from Mondstadt.

A welcoming gift was long overdue.

But you asking him to get something?

Now this is something he didn’t expect from you this early. He must’ve made big progress by showing you his patience.

“Show me which one.”

His voice is determined and he seems to have abandoned anything that went through his head prior to your question.

After you grab the book from the small table you flip through the pages, skipping as fast as you can through Mondstadt’s flora and stopping once you see the pink petals of the Sakura Blooms.

The page is filled with detailed illustrations. There’s a giant tree full in bloom, another illustration which depicts a bundle of the petals, and the last one, an illustration of a branch from the tree.

You can’t read any of the words but you’re familiar with the flower. It’s used when making perfume, but you previously used it to make paint. From this experience, you know the flower is hard to obtain.

Childe walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. You let him pull you back into his chest and ignore any further actions. If your plan succeeds you’d have him gone for a good while – any unwanted touch is a willing sacrifice if you can get rid of him for a few weeks.

He hums and you feel his breath on the side of your face.

When he doesn’t respond further you state your case. The more he’ll think about it, the bigger the change will be he’ll say no.

“I, um… I really want them because you don’t have that many flowers here.”

You grip the book a bit tighter. He stays silent – you hadn’t convinced him.

“And well… I.”

You try to look as nervous as possible. Be weak and he’d feel in control. Hit his weak spots and you’d be able to succeed.

“I always wanted the flowers on my wedding day.” You fiddle with the pages of the book on purpose, “And since you wanted to marry so fast I couldn’t choose anything. So I thought you could get these in return?”

You feel his lips press against your neck. His hands squeeze your sides a bit tighter and he tries to press into you even harder.

“Why didn’t you say so?” Another kiss on your neck, “You know that ceremony was only temporary. I promised you we could do anything we want once you stop throwing tantrums.”

One of his hands reaches for your face and turns it to the side so he’s able to look at you. His eyes are dull and they stare intensely into yours.

“So you’ll get them?”

“Yes. I should be able to get in contact with a few people, but it does mean you’ll be alone for a while.”

You relax in his arms. A few weeks with him stuck in the capital means silence.

“Do you want a different dress as well?”

“…what?”

“You’ve been so good lately. Of course, it can’t be anything outlandish…” he trails off, “-but I guess you can help this time with choosing your dress.”

You frown and he continues.

“It still won’t be a big ceremony, but bigger than our last one. My family will come and we can even get Pulcinella to come. If you really want it I can invite some of the maids as well, just so you’ll have some familiar faces.”

You try to push his arms away from your waist. “What ceremony?”

Childe’s grip turns stronger and he pushes a few other kisses to your neck. “Wedding ceremony.”

“No! I don’t want that-“

He suddenly squeezes you tighter than before. You immediately stop talking and you freeze in your place. You can already feel the bruises start to form on the areas where his hands dig into your body.

He’s silent again.

You had yelled a lot during the first few days after you’d awoken in Snezhnaya. He never yelled back and instead silently approached you before manhandling your body towards the basement where he’d keep you in the dark for hours. You’d scream, cry, and plead, but it’d always take a while before he’d let you out.

Your chest heaves up and down and you slowly turn your head.

He doesn’t seem happy at all.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Hmm.” He watches the water pool at the bottom of your lids. “It’s alright. Everything is still new for you so you need time to adjust. It’s not that easy – I know, but we’ll always have each other.”

He continues, “My family adores you, so there’s no need to be afraid.”

He turns you around. One of his hands pushes onto your lower back, forcing your body onto his. His other hand pushes your head to his chest.

His heartbeat doesn’t calm you down. It beats too fast, almost as if he’s excited.

You wonder, did he know?

#❄️ winter: writes #tw: yandere #tw: forced marriage #tw: kidnap mention #childe x reader #childe #yandere childe #childe genshin x reader #childe yandere #yandere #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #fatui harbingers #genshin harbingers #harbinger x reader #fatui #fatui x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

[star-trek-fandom-confessions]

#419

"I don't understand why they came up with a cheating plot for T'Pring/Spock. Even if Spock didn't cheat, T'Pring is in her right to want a divorce whatever her reasons. In TOS, lot of people saw her as a villain because of the situation she put Kirk in (even if he agreed though) but she was dealing with a possible marital rape. She didn't love Spock and that's a good reasons enough to get a divorce. In SNW, it's sad how she put her energy on a worthless partner. It's funny how the writers avoided the topic of child marriage, pon farr and why Amanda put her son in this situation. Yes I know probably because of Sarek's influence..."

#confession 419 #star-trek-fandom-confessions #star trek #trigger warnings #tw rape mention #tw cheating mention #t'pring #spock #strange new worlds spoilers #strange new worlds #the original series #episode tag: Amok Time #tw child marriage mention #james t kirk #amanda grayson #sarek #critical confession

[patroclusdefencesquad]

silver : i'm gonna try and stop flint from killing himself

billy : please don't

#billy returning to his flint hater roots after a brief stint as his marriage counsellor #black sails #tw suicide mention

[starzzach]

hi [peeks out from writer's block] for @c2-eh

read part 1 here and part 3 here! (or don't)

Carlos has an accident. Charles almost has one, too.

—

Oh Carlos is so dead.

Well. Charles hopes he already isn't already. It wouldn't work very well for his revenge agenda. He had a good race himself – great, really. At least until it was red-flagged because Carlos had crashed on the inside of Turn 9. It didn't bother Charles at first, though a twinge of worry had snuck through when the yellow flag went down and the red flag had gone up.

No, he'd just rolled his eyes and asked Xavi to keep him updated. Xavi didn't, at all, so when he jumped out of the car and asked for Carlos and nobody gave him Carlos, he thinks he had a pretty standard reaction.

Really, they should be happy he didn't stomp his feet and throw a tantrum. Carlos was – well. Carlos was. He was a lot of things. He is a lot of things. Charles frowns. And asks for Carlos again.

"Down in medical," a newer, recent hire tells him. Clearly no one told him not to listen to the drivers. Good for Charles, anyway. "They're making sure he's properly okay. He was pretty banged up."

Okay, now might be time to be a little worried. "What?" he demands. "Why did you not tell me this before?"

Charles isn't as friendly with the engineers as Carlos is. He likes to think he's a nice person. He's certainly had his moments, but everyone has. Nobody really questions him at Ferrari – nobody really questions him at all, really, except Carlos.

Carlos is always quick to, infuriatingly, talk him back down to Earth. So. He really can't afford for anything to happen to Carlos.

They don't let him go, though. Fred tells him to stay in the garage, warning him not to leave, and so Charles stays put like a prize pony, waiting for the debris to be cleared and the track to be deemed safe. He's distracted and stressed and everyone knows it.

The race is uneventful. He crosses the line in third, right where he'd started. The podium celebration is quiet – there's still not much word on Carlos. So, naturally, it's the first thing he does.

They part for him, like a sea. The reporters stay away from him, the drivers stay away from him. Tomorrow, or maybe even this evening, they will spin a story about how Charles hates Carlos for possibly ruining his race and Ferrari simply cannot handle the petty teammate drama.

Carlos cares about all that much more than Charles does, but Charles is always the one who ends up defending them. He argues with the nurse for a minute or two, increasing in volume. "I need to see him!" he shouts, unsure of why he's being so adamant. Perhaps he's a little bit more worried for Carlos than he wants to admit.

Andrea materialises at his side. "Charles," he says very quietly, hand on his arm. He pulls him to the side, and the nurse looks considerably relieved, breathing in big gulps of air. His scent must be worse than he realises. "Charles, did you get darker fireproofs this weekend?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Then tell me..." Andrea looks worried, properly worried. "Tell me that's not blood on your thighs."

"What?" He glances down and it's like– it's like looking at it acknowledges the pain he's in– the pain he's been in. "Fuck, what the fuck?"

"You need to see medical, too–"

Charles tries to shrug him off, vision blurring. "No– no, I'm fine– I need to– Carlos–"

Andrea fights him, and it's easy, too, given the cramps in his stomach. Fuck, this really can't be happening. "Let medical give you the OK," he says sternly, but there's concern in there, too. "You can see Carlos after."

Charles isn't an idiot. They've been having sex – lots of it, and the intention had been pretty clear. Pregnancy isn't very encouraged in athletes, much less male omega athletes. The stress from the race probably didn't help. He should have expected the miscarriage, really.

Tears sting in his eyes. He's not the most optimistic person, and he would have expected this, if he knew at all. "Please," he says, hoarse. "Let me see him first."

The thing is – in Ferrari, everyone is soft for Charles, and Andrea is no better. Irritated, he agrees, making Charles vow he'll get himself checked out. The nurse who had been pretending not to eavesdrop wordlessly guides him to the room he's been looking for.

"Idiot," is the first thing he says, so so so relieved. There's an IV in Carlos' arm but he's awake and safe. "Idiot, idiot, idiot."

Carlos laughs. Charles feels drunk on the sound of it. "Happy to see you too. I lost the wheel. How was the race?"

Charles climbs into the bed, trying very hard not to wince. Carlos notices and grills him until he pouts, but they talk. They talk and Charles pours his heart out and kisses Carlos until he forgets his own name (it might be the concussion) and then very quietly tells him he might have had a miscarriage.

Not the best way to go about it, but Carlos holds his hand through the checkup two hours later and they tell him no miscarriage, just some common bleeding. The baby is fine. He's almost two months along. He's due in late March. Carlos cries. Charles might have too.

"Wow," Carlos whispers after the tech wipes the gel off, the palm of his hand coming to rest on Charles' belly, slightly squishier than normal. The tech says something about a printout. "There's our baby in there. Our tiny baby."

Then the irrationality hits him and he whacks him with a pillow. He's going to hate being pregnant, how could he–

Oh, Carlos is so dead.

#hahhahahaha #very much in tune with the laughs to not cry #hope u enjoy eva #zach writes #charlos abo #charles leclerc #carlos sainz jr #tw: mentions of possible miscarriage #this was meant to be soft and sweet and a marriage proposal #alas

[kyacchan-comics]

Sometimes, I still think about that reader who's been following my page for a year or more, positively reacting to my comic updates, but when I shared my support for a new law in support for gay marriage and child adoption in lgbt couples, she wrote an ESSAY about how that was a blasphemy and how could I force children in the hands of sinners and that that law would allow people to persecute Christians.

Ma'am.

Ma'am my main comic is about two women falling in love, one of which is trying to get out her bigoted village. The other one is a druid.

You've been reading it.

I drew them kissing more than once.

Ma'am.

#kyacchan rambling #lgbt+ #tw mention of homophobia #I ended up blocking her #she spiraled into saying that sex outside of marriage is DISGUSTING and that it should only be done for making kids #like ma'am I am asexual but damn I think you need a bit of self analysis #there's something going on there I think #but also goddamn relax

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Foreign Perception

TW: Bruises, scratches and fights mentioned

Words: 1.2k

He was sprawled out on the couch, dressed in a black, satin robe, the edges of it lined with a wine red trim. The sunlight illuminated half of his form, seeming to highlight his features; the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones and his sleek figure as well as the curves of the softer features of his face, of his raven hair, all drawn in golden ink.

"Ah, you've woken up," he remarked softly, the usual scratchiness of his morning voice missing, sounding silkier instead. He'd been awake for a while, it seemed, which was strange because he wasn't really a morning person.

Outwardly, he seemed immaculate, tousled hair slightly damp from a shower, his skin looking healthy and well cared for. The luxuriant garment fell slightly as he shifted himself, exposing his collarbones and the tips of his shoulders.

A closer look at him revealed details of a different nature, the ones the sunlight refused to cast its golden glow on. The bruise on his left cheek, an ugly shade of purple and swollen, the dark bags under his eyes, the partially split lip, and a long, fading scratch partially exposed where the fabric of his robe wasn't hiding skin.

"Lie down with me," he suggested, in the same gentle and yet commanding tone, "you look tired." He gestured to the empty space next to him, an almost expectant look in his eyes.

So she obliged, not so much lying down as sitting next to him, her movements a little slow. He smelled like strong, expensive cologne; some sort of smoky wood and an elegant mix of spices.

"Relax, I won't bite," he supplied, a very slight hint of amusement in his tone that one could only pick up by spending a considerable amount of time around him.

Tentatively, she leaned back until her head rested against his chest, letting her arms fall limp at her sides. When the villain showed no indications of discomfort or annoyance, she slackened her posture a bit more.

"That's more like it," the villain praised, no hint of his usual biting sarcasm present. Most of their previous exchanges had involved snide remarks falling off of his sharp tongue and her snapping back at him. Not now, it seemed.

He slowly moved his arm so that it was around one of her shoulders, letting out a soft sigh, a perfect mix of exhausted and utterly relaxed.

The villain was usually unapproachable, even in more casual clothing, with a cryptic resting face that loosely resembled a dark scowl and an unreadable expression in his eyes. He seemed to emant danger, like he carried a warning sign everywhere. Right now, however, he looked impossibly soft, no mask to hide behind.

This time, he layed down completely on the couch, tapping her shoulder lightly so that she would follow his example. The hero found herself being pulled into strong arms, the villain's embrace being surprisingly warm.

"Why are we doing this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite that, she half-wished to stroke a hand through the criminal's hair, settling only for pushing the loose strands out of his eyes.

"I'm not very sure, maybe it's just calmer, you know. Than what we do every day." He gently guided her fingers through his locks. "It's okay. I think I actually like it when you touch my hair," he said softly.

So she ran her fingers through the villain's hair, noticing how his breathing slowed, how he closed his eyes and involuntarily leaned into the touch.

He opened his eyes and started tracing patterns into her arm absentmindedly with the fingers of one hand, the other still holding her close to him. "You're extremely quiet, which is very unlike you, any reason why?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know, Villain, I just don't have much to say. Maybe I talk too much, but I don't mind the quiet," she remarked, continuing to card her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

"I don't think you talk too much," he stage-whispered, smoothing down a wrinkle in her silken dress, his fingers toying with the embroidery on the skirt. It had been a birthday gift, another trademark of their weird, nonsensical to-hate-or-not-to-hate relationship.

"You? Of all people. I thought you hated it." She let a dry laugh make its way into her tone, disbelieving.

"I didn't appreciate being insulted," he replied, only slightly irritable, a glint of mirth visible in the emerald green eyes, "but it was pretty much a mutual thing, and I know people who talk too much, incessantly, but you're not one. It's not noise to me, maybe you talk more than I do, but you listen, so that's a good thing." His hand skirted down the side of her face, and he started tracing her cheekbones down to her jaw. There were small bruises scattered across her cheeks, a few old scars across her figure, and some newer scrapes from more recent fights, some of which, he came to realise, were his fault.

But again, it's not like she hadn't managed to leave any marks on him.

"You're pretty," he remarked before he could catch himself, "for someone who has to get into all these fights, a bit of a shame, really."

"Fighting crime's not a good enough reason to taint my beauty?" she asked, ironically drawing the shape of a scar on his chest with her fingers, blissfully cool against his skin.

"Not what I meant," he attested.

She simply laughed. "Easy. I'm messing with you. Want to know something a little crazy?" she questioned, now playing with the curls of his hair.

"Mhm."

"First time I saw you without a mask, as much as I despised you then, the first, unfiltered thought in my head was that you looked like someone from a perfume ad."

A rare, genuine smile graced the villain's lips. "This is the most oddly specific compliment I've ever received but I'll take it." He toyed with the strands of her hair, weaving his fingers down the length of it. "I don't think we're friends," he decided.

"No," she agreed, tugging a little at the roots of his hair.

"I don't think friends keep doing. . .whatever it is this is unannounced," the villain concluded.

"Being physically affectionate, yes."

"But you know we aren't lovers, either. Is this a side-effect of the whole marriage thing?"

"No, I don't think so," she answered, smoothing the criminal's stray hairs down, "I think we're something in between enemies and lovers. I also think we're both touch-starved, and this. . .this calms us both." She started rubbing a stiff knot in his neck, earning a few contented sighs and shivers from him.

His hand flitted to somewhere near her shoulder, delicately tracing patterns into the skin, increasing pressure sometimes when it seemed fit. Involuntarily, she nuzzled her head into the crook of the villain's neck, and soon his own head slumped forward.

They'd both fallen asleep, mortal enemies in each other's arms, feeling safer than they ever had before.

Few things can rival something as simple and primitive as a gentle touch. More powerful than what one would expect, a frivolous, sentimental luxury only to those who chose to be blind, to run away and hide behind walls of indifference covered in cracks and close to collapsing. Even those who consider it a foreign perception in their world come to realise its priceless value sooner than they would dare to expect.

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Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

#prompt #hero x villain #oblivious enemies to lovers #forced marriage au #fluff #a hint of romance #touch starved #sweet #hero/villain #fiction #writing #natalia's writing #female writers #writers on tumblr #bruises tw #injury tw #mentioned fights tw #f/m

[the-andromeda-effect]

20

TW - abuse mention, violence mention, injury mention, mental trauma, ptsd

Caliban had taken many women to his bed the first night he’d met them, and that was the only night they’d spent together.  Some he’d dated for a while before becoming sexual.  None of those had ever brought about the conflict that he currently felt with Adira as she returned to the bathroom to finish changing.  It was not that there was not the physical desire for her, or that he knew that it would be far more than one night with her, but rather that the physical was so far less important at the moment than making sure that she felt safe and secure mentally and emotionally.  The other could wait, and he would wait, because he knew how wounded she was in all ways. He did not want to add to that in any way; certainly not if there was a chance of losing the way she looked at him by rushing or pushing for anything.  Whenever her eyes and his met, there was something that he could not describe within them, something that awoke a part of him that hadn’t been touched before, and he was finding he liked it.  

When Adira was once more behind a closed door, she leaned against it, holding the PJ pants to her as her heart thudded within her chest.  She had no idea what had made her so bold as to walk over to Caliban like that and just assume he would welcome her touch upon his bare skin and her help in disrobing.  It hadn’t been until she had actually been in the act of doing it that her brain had kicked in.  By then it had been too late and the only thing she felt she could do was continue, and now she was thankful that she had.  Just his initial response of covering her forearms and hands with his own had almost made her knees give way in relief and also a warm and safe sensation that had flooded her whole body.  She craved him in a way that she had never craved Mircea, in a way that she couldn’t even put into words. It wasn't blind lust, it was something deeper. 

From the day that she had met Mircea, she had known that they would be married.  It was why her father had introduced them.  Also from that day, she had alway tried to garner his approval, to please him, to make him proud, to elicit praise.  He had at least pretended in the beginning to be somewhat fond of her and that her efforts were more than enough.  The lack of overt affection understandable due to theirs being an arranged marriage, but it was one he seemed to desire, something that still confused her with how things eventually went.  However, the longer their relationship went, the more it was obvious that she was not who he wanted and that her efforts would never achieve the results that she hoped for.  She had still tried, no matter how many times she failed to live up to standards he seemed to change on a whim.  Up until the day she had been kidnapped, she had relentlessly tried.

Caliban was completely different from Mircea in every conceivable way.  One could say that their marriage was no less arranged than hers with Mircea had been.  It was not built on love, but an agreement to provide for her and keep her safe.  The difference was that even in the beginning of her relationship with Mircea she had not felt as safe and secure with him, nor had she felt as accepted.  Then there was something about the way that she felt when she was held in Caliban’s arms, the way just his voice calmed any fear or anxiety in her, the look in his eyes when he looked at her, his gentle and soothing touch when she was upset or hurting - it was all so new to her;  at the same time, it was like what she had always been looking for in the past, but never found.  

It was in wondering how he had not found a wife previously, with everything he had already shown her of who he was, that Adira came upon the thought that made her stomach turn: what if there were other women he was in a relationship with when he had saved her?  Could she do that again?  Could her heart take other women also being in a relationship from someone other than Mircea?  If there were, could she even do a fake marriage?  Her breath caught and her heart burned at the thought.

By the time that Adira finally opened the door again, Caliban had started to worry if things were okay with her.  The room had been too quiet, and she had seemed to be in there too long.  He had to keep reminding himself not to rush her.  Patience was never one of his virtues, but he knew that if he wanted to unwrap the delicate gift that was the true nature of the woman he now called his wife, he was going to have to learn some.  There was something about her that made him confident that whatever new skills he might have to learn or test he might feel like he was enduring, in the end, it would be worth it.

“Is everything alright?” He finally asked as she silently crossed over to the bed and began to place her jeans in the bag that he had brought up for her.  She hadn’t looked at him when she came out of the bathroom, nor even when he spoke to her, and this concerned him.  Before she’d gone back in, they’d once again been affectionate with one another and she’d seemed to be relaxing.  Had she had another panic attack of sorts?  

Still not looking at him, Adira’s voice came out soft and stuttered, “I hadn’t thought to ask before if…” She paused, gathering the courage to say what had come to her mind as she realized how much she was attracted to Caliban. It was as if the question was stuck in her throat, refusing to come out.  There was a fear of hearing the answer once it did.

“If what, sweetheart?” Calban asked cautiously, as head cantered.  He had heard the hesitation and nerves in her voice.   He pushed off of the dresser he’d been leaning against to walk over to her.  There was definitely something wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what could have changed in just a few minutes.  

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her head still bowed as if looking down into her bag.  “If you had…someone you were with..you know, when you..we...”  As she let her breath out, she steeled herself for the answer.  Her hands had balled to fists around the clothing she was holding, as if that would somehow protect her from the answer hurting her.  She had known many men who would be with multiple women simultaneously.  It wasn’t like she was naive to the way the world of rich and powerful men who looked like him operated.  Even those who were married often had more than one girlfriend on the side besides their wife. This was often the life wives of family heads led.

So that was the issue that had suddenly come to bother her.  The tension Caliban had been feeling waiting to hear what had upset her faded instantly.   He was glad her back was to him because he could not keep the devilish smirk off of his face.  Not that he was laughing at her, far from it; no, he was delighted that the beauty was concerned that she might have competition for his affection.  To him that meant that she too was starting to feel something for him in the same way he was for her.  Otherwise she wouldn’t care if he was in a relationship with someone else while being fake married to her.  Being fake married to Adira seemed to get better every time he turned around, and now he was going to have at least two weeks secluded with her in a mountain cabin.  Who knew what could happen then?

“And it would bother you if I did?”  The shaky inhale of breath after his question gave him his answer, just before his arms wrapped around her from behind.  She couldn't hide the slight tremble in her body from him, a tremble that he hoped his next words would quell.   Placing his chin on her shoulder, he let his warm breath fan across her neck with his next words, “my darling wife, if there had been, the moment I slipped that ring on your finger they no longer existed.”  He gently kissed the crook of her neck and continued, “there is now, and from now on always will be, only you, unless it is you who wants things otherwise between us.”  Caliban was never one to share a woman, nor did he expect a woman to share him.

As much as his words comforted her, she also felt like they were too good to be real. “Are you sure that you can be happy that way?” Adira was afraid to even hope, even if she prayed, to a god she had long since stopped believing in, that it was true.  She was under no illusion that Mircea had ever been faithful in their marriage, even from the beginning.  He’d always blamed her; of course it was her failure as a wife that led him to have to find others.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  He kept his chin on her shoulder and laced his fingers with hers now that she’d covered his hands with her own.  Every time he thought he’d figured out how much damage that Mircea had done, something more was revealed.  There was no doubt the coming days and weeks would reveal more, and he would try his best never to repeat those wounds.  If he could, he would instead heal them.  

“Well,I…I don’t know.  I just know that no matter what I tried, I was never enough for Mi-” Suddenly Caliban’s hand was over her mouth, cutting her off as she felt herself fully pulled back against him.  Her eyes closed, her breathing stilled, and she waited for the pain.  Pain always came after the wrong things were said.  Hopefully Caliban would not be as brutal as Mircea had been.  She still ached from being dragged by Kondrat and the abuse in that basement.

banners by: @cafekitsune

#writeblr cafe #writeblrcafe #tw: abuse mention #tw: ptsd #tw: mental trauma #tw: violence mention #tw: injury mention #writeblr #authorblr #writers of tumblr #authors of tumblr #fiction #modern fiction #contemporary fiction #mob fiction #crime family #strangers to lovers #strangers to friends #found family #fake marriage #drama #action #original story #original fiction #original writing #original character #crime fiction #the andromeda effect #my ocs #my writing

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Bucky finding out that numerous members of his surviving family have been named in his honor. Bucky worrying they will feel ashamed of their names because of what he's done in his past, but them all feeling a sense of honor, that they were named after a family hero. Bucky being asked by a relative who is about to have a baby if he would give his blessing to name the baby after him. Bucky having a special relationship with all of his namesakes.

Ashkenazi naming traditions always make me so emotional, this just takes it to a whole other level. (x)

His namesakes being such an important part of his healing, them adamantly trying to convince him that being named for him is an honour. He survived unimaginable horrors for decades and never fully broke. To them he is counted amongst Holocaust survivors, and he is their strongest representation of mir veln zey iberlebn, "We will outlive them".

Especially with Bucky giving his blessing????? Him coming to that level of peace with himself and his past where he feels like his name and the memory/history that comes with it is worthy of being carried on into the next generation?????

#marvel #mcu #bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #jewish bucky #jewish bucky barnes #jewish!bucky #jewish!bucky barnes #tw shoah mention #Assorted Jewish Writings - Marriage/Family/Home

[mywingsareonwheels]

I was thinking about the whole... what's more progressive debate out of m/m romance representation and actually close and tender (as opposed to buddyish) m&m friendships. And how utterly futile and insulting to the need for more of both a debate it is when we need infinitely more of both and a lot of other things.

Fundamentally, between the lingering after-effects of the Hays Code and the extremist end of Christianity (not that those two are unconnected) and the patriarchy (ditto) and militarism and capitalism... in mainstream Western story media we still struggle to get *any* genuine emotional intimacy that isn't:-

romance between a different-gender couple who are both cishet, and which if it's happy will lead to marriage (but hasn't yet).

marriage between ditto, but only if they haven't been together very long (after they have for a few years they're supposed to bicker all the time).

at an extreme pinch, fond closeness between blood relatives, especially if at least one of them is a woman.

Friendships between men and between women are okay so long as there's a... distancing of rivalry and teasing. If you can imagine one of them tucking the other in or stroking their hair (especially if they're both men) or being utterly and wholly in solidarity with each other (especially if they're both women)... hm, no.

And that's... it. We're still at a point in mainstream western media where anything that deviates from, especially to the extent of serious warmth and trust and confidence and understanding between the characters, that feels at least a little transgressive, especially in e.g. a blockbuster movie. We're still at a point where everything else is under-represented. Less and less so, thank everything, but still.

I'm thinking of some of my favourite relationships in fiction at the moment and how they fuck with those stereotypes and do better things (and always as part of awesome stories, because as always, good rep is important but it should never be treated as everything). :-) This is inevitably a v personal list, I'm not claiming that anything here is The Purest And Least Problematic Thing Ever, and this is very much just a, "this is what's enthusing me right now" thing. :D

yes they're a het couple and both cis, but: Mike and Alison Cooper in Ghosts. They have been married for a few years now, and they actually like each other. They're best friends as well as lovers, and I know that some critics have actually had a problem with this and regard it as unrealistic. [facepalm] I adore so much that they're not a stereotypical sitcom married couple, nothing like. In a quiet way they are utterly defiant and fuck completely with the genre.

Donna Noble & the Doctor in Doctor Who. I mean, do I need to say much more? :D Close, glorious platonic friendship between a woman and... the Doctor. Some of the most beautiful platonic love in any fiction ever and it's so tender and gorgeous and fun. Adore it. <3

Red, White, and Royal Blue is a silly film but omg I adore it and part of it is seeing all of those standard romance beats between two men. And with a lot more true closeness than a lot of het romcoms manage. We're getting more and more of this (we need more between women too, and indeed other queer romances of many and various kinds!!!). <3 <3 <3

yes, they're shit at expressing their love for each other most of the time, but I still stubbornly add: E Morse & Fred Thursday in Endeavour. The fact that they're inhabiting the 1960s-70s and there is no framework for their mutual affection and devotion is of course part of why things get so hard for them both. They don't know what to do with it or where to place each other in their priorities, but the loyalty and the tenderness is there, and some remarkable emotional intimacy at times considering who they both are. We watch and interpret it as father-son or as romantic or as fraternal or as an intense and wonderful (and complicated and difficult) friendship. But it defies easy definition and... and oh goodness well anyone who's been following me for any length of time knows how I can go on about them, apologies. ;-)

the entire Fellowship of the Ring, but especially Frodo and Sam. And whatever my mixed feelings on the PJ films of The Lord of the Rings, my Gods am I endlessly glad and grateful that they retained warmth and intensity and devotion and intimacy. I worry that it wouldn't have been if made now, with a more stereotypical masculinity so much in the ascendant in mainstream film-making (we really are in the midst of a patriarchal/homophobic/transphobic reaction :( ). As with Morse and Thursday, you can absolutely interpret some of the connections there as romantic (and we know that Tolkien was remarkably non-homophobic for a man of his generation and religion), or as platonic. Either way, what matters is that there's serious love there between male characters and that goes right back to the books. Tolkien could be problematic af, but I love him so much for how he writes masculinity and love between men. <3

Heartstopper, not just for Nick/Charlie and Tara/Darcy, but also because of Charlie's friendships with Elle, Isaac, and (especially, actually) Tau.

everything with Found Family, and especially everything with Found Family where there is no easy equivalence to a "nuclear" family to map the characters on to.

Honestly I could go on. Hooray for all of these! But also: we are still in a position where these all feel subversive and make a lot of the more bigoted critics spectacularly uncomfortable (even when there is no actual queer rep). We're still in a position where mainstream film series and some tv shows struggles with anything like this, and/or will sabotage a friendship between men and even an entire character arc because it's got too close and intimate and there's a desperate need to "no homo" everything (*coughs* Steve Rogers *coughs*). We're still in a position where romance between women and any romance involving trans people of any gender is dramatically under-everythinged (but that between cis men is also still not exactly even a fraction of where it should be). We're still in a position where honestly even the representation of romance between cishet characters is most often weirdly distant and lacks real closeness or mutual liking between them (often, let's face it, because the writers struggle to write women as people). I snarked a bit at first about the debate as to which is more important and under-represented between m/m romance and really open and loving m&m friendship, but honestly the main problem with that debate is that dividing up the exact same problem: we aren't going to get more open and loving representations of m&m friendship until the media get less afraid of the relationship being interpreted as romantic whether or not it is, by both fans and haters. (I.e. don't blame the shippers when a production company loses their nerve and trashes a friendship between men so that it's not seen as romantic! Blame homophobia. I mean, to put it on its simplest real-life terms, it's consistently my experience in the UK at least that het male allies are in general vastly more comfortable hugging each other than homophobes are.)

#long post #post i wrote when i should be looking after my neck by not being on my laptop oops #bbc ghosts #doctor who #rwrb #red white and royal blue #itv endeavour #lotr #heartstopper #mcu critical #tw homophobia discussion #tw misogyny discussion #tw transphobia mention #i could so easily have got into good omens and conversations from a long marriage but honestly they were both almost too easy :D

[goldenhornss]

It makes me so sad that the polish King-Queen Jadwiga was just...so mistreated.

She took throne at 11 years old. She was forced to marry a way older man some years later.

My history class claims she was humble, that she gave crystal jewelry to support a college, that she surrounded herself with educated people...

But she died at 23. She was so young. She mustn't be happy spending all her child years being forced into a role of a King. She mustn't have been happy being forced to marry some old guy she didn't know who also had a bad reputation.

And she died having a child for that man. Yes she was an adult then, but it still. She probably never felt anything for him.

I feel so bad for her. She deserved to have a normal childhood, she deserved to choose who to love.

#tw forced marriage #tw death mention #history #polish culture #polish history #poland #idk i just felt it