GayForThePlot

Hey guys! Welcome to our first Queerfic June! Where we do a different lgbtq ship from different shows, movies, and books, every day of the month for pride month! Yes, we are uploading this very late but we only just now got around to writing the stories. I hope you enjoy this!

Here's each ship that we are gonna be posting for each day! You can also look at the graph up at the top if you would prefer to do that!

Day 1: Sirius Black x Remus Lupin (Wolfstar) - Harry Potter

Day 2: Clarisse La Rue x Silena Beauregard (Ruegard) - Percy Jackson

Day 3: Piper McLean x Shel (Pipashel) - Percy Jackson

Day 4: Mira x Zoe (Zoemira) - K-Pop Demon Hunters

Day 5: Leo Valdez x Jason Grace (Valgrace) - Percy Jackson

Day 6: Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair (Wenclair) - Wednesday

Day 7: Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy (Drarry) - Harry Potter

Day 8: Rumi x Mira x Zoe (Polytrix) - K-Pop Demon Hunters

Day 9: Robin Buckley x Vickie Dunne (Rockie) - Stranger Things

Day 10: Thalia Grace x Reyna Ramírez-Arellano (Theyna) - Percy Jackson

Day 11: James Potter x Regulus Black (Jegulus) - Harry Potter

Day 12: Deena Johnson x Samantha Fraser (Sameena) - Fear Street

Day 13: Mal x Evie (Malvie) - Descendants

Day 14: Dorcas Meadowes x Marlene McKinnon (Dorlene) - Harry Potter

Day 15: Nina Zenik x Inej Ghafa (Ninej) - Six of Crows

Day 16: Jayce Talis x Viktor (JayVik) - Arcane League of Legends

Day 17: Remus Lupin x Regulus Black (Moonwater) - Harry Potter

Day 18: Piper Mclean x Annabeth Chase (Pipabeth) - Percy Jackson

Day 19: Vi x Caitlyn Kiramman (Caitvi) - Arcane League of Legends

Day 20: Luna Lovegood x Ginny Weasley (Linny) - Harry Potter

Day 21: Ari x Nicole (Aricole) - Class of ‘09

Day 22: Robin Buckley x Nancy Wheeler (Ronance) - Stranger Things

Day 23: Eleven/Jane Hopper x Max Mayfield (Elmax) - Stranger Things

Day 24: Nico Di Angelo x Will Solace (Solangelo) - Percy Jackson

Day 25: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson (Steddie) - Stranger Things

Day 26: Ron Weasley x Blaise Zabini (Blairon) - Harry Potter

Day 27: Jecka x Nicole (Jeckole) - Class of ‘09

Day 28: Mike Wheeler x Will Byers (Byler) - Stranger Things

Day 29: Barty Crouch Jr. x Evan Rosier (Rosekiller) - Harry Potter

Day 30: Hermione Granger x Pansy Parkinson (Pansmione) - Harry Potter

Queerfic June

The End.....For Now

And just like that, Pride Month has come to an end. I had so much fun writing these this month, and I hope you all had just as much fun reading them. Thank you to everyone who read, left a comment, gave a kudos, or simply took the time to support these stories. Every bit of it meant the world to me. (Seriously, more than you think) I hope these brought you a little comfort, joy, or something to smile about. Happy Pride, and thank you for spending this month with me. Bye guys, I love you all so much!!

- Hannah🖤

Wow, I cant believe its already over! Hannah had so much fun spending hours writing these for you and figuring out what yall would like the best, and I loved figuring out which songs matched each chapter (for the videos on our TikTok and YouTube), finding photos for every chapter, reading Hannah's writing, and being able to get it out there for all of y'all to read. Thank you so so so so so much from the bottom of my heart for reading this story. I really do appreciate it with everything in me. I hope you loved each chapter like we did. Yes, we were late sometimes, but we always made sure to get the stories out! I love yall with all my heart. Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, voted, or left kudos on these stories, it means so much to me. We're thinking we might do it again next year, but....you'll just have to wait and see 👀. See you for our next story! Love you!

Queerfic June #30

Fashion and Potions

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: internalized insecurity, self-worth issues, references to past bullying, post-war emotional trauma, anxiety about social expectations/status, body/image confidence themes, mild emotional vulnerability, queer romantic undertones.

Ship: Hermione Granger x Pansy Parkinson

Fluff

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Hermione Granger stood in the middle of her cluttered bedroom at Grimmauld Place, glaring at the mountain of robes spread across her bed as though it were a particularly infuriating Arithmancy problem. The Ministry’s Formal Equinox Gala was only two days away, and every outfit she’d tried somehow made her feel less like one of the witches who had helped save the wizarding world and more like an exhausted librarian who’d wandered into the wrong event. Practical had always been enough before. Tonight, practical just felt… dull.

A sharp knock sounded against the bedroom door before it swung open without waiting for an answer. Pansy Parkinson swept inside with the effortless confidence Hermione had come to expect over the past year. Her dark hair was immaculate, her robes impeccably tailored, and she somehow managed to look as though elegance required no effort at all. She paused just inside the room, taking in the chaos with one raised eyebrow. “Draco told me you needed saving,” she said dryly. “I assumed he was exaggerating. Clearly, I gave him too much credit.”

Hermione folded her arms. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“No,” Pansy agreed, already crossing the room toward the wardrobe, “because asking for help has never been one of your strengths.” She opened the wardrobe doors and immediately began pushing hangers aside with the practiced efficiency of someone hunting for buried treasure. “Honestly, Granger, how do you own this many shades of brown?” She pulled out one particularly shapeless robe, grimaced dramatically, and tossed it onto the growing pile. “Absolutely not.”

Despite herself, Hermione laughed under her breath.

“There it is,” Pansy said with a satisfied smile. “I knew you weren’t completely hopeless.” A moment later, she reached deeper into the wardrobe and triumphantly held up an emerald-green gown Hermione had almost forgotten existed. Ginny had insisted she buy it years ago, claiming she’d regret leaving it behind. Hermione never had an occasion worthy of wearing it. Pansy looked at the dress, then at Hermione, and smiled knowingly. “This is the one.”

Hermione disappeared behind the changing screen with a reluctant sigh. When she stepped back out a few minutes later, the silk skimmed elegantly over her frame, catching the light from the bedside lamp. She instinctively reached for her hair, trying to hide behind it, but Pansy gently caught her wrist.

“Don’t.”

Hermione frowned. “Don’t what?”

“Hide.” Pansy stepped closer, adjusting one shoulder of the gown with careful fingers before taking a slow step back to admire her work. “You’ve spent years trying to disappear into books and oversized robes, but none of that changes what’s already there. You carry yourself like someone who’s survived impossible things. Stand like it.”

Hermione straightened almost without thinking.

“There,” Pansy murmured, smiling. “Much better.”

Heat crept into Hermione’s cheeks. “You know flattery isn’t going to stop me from questioning your motives.”

Pansy laughed, the sound softer than Hermione remembered from school. “Believe it or not, I don’t have any tonight. I simply refuse to let someone as brilliant as Hermione Granger attend the biggest Ministry event of the season dressed like she’s about to reorganize the archives.”

Within minutes, Pansy had commandeered the vanity. With a few practiced flicks of her wand and an alarming collection of enchanted hairpins, Hermione’s curls were coaxed into an elegant style that still looked unmistakably like her instead of something stiff and overdone. Watching Pansy work was oddly fascinating. Every movement was deliberate, every adjustment subtle, as though she’d spent years studying the tiny details most people never noticed.

When Pansy finally leaned back with a satisfied nod, Hermione caught her reflection and blinked. She still looked like herself. Just… brighter.

“My turn,” Hermione announced suddenly.

Pansy looked genuinely surprised. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been treating me like a dress-up doll for half an hour. Fair’s fair.” Hermione reached into the overnight bag Pansy had casually dropped by the door earlier and pulled out a sleek black dress. “Put this on.”

Pansy rolled her eyes with theatrical suffering but disappeared behind the screen anyway. When she emerged a few minutes later, Hermione forgot what she’d been about to say. The dress fit Pansy perfectly, simple enough to let her confidence do most of the work.

“You make everything look intentional,” Hermione admitted with a small shake of her head. “Like you’ve already decided exactly who you are.”

For the first time that evening, Pansy’s expression softened into something quieter.

“I fake it,” she confessed. “Most days, anyway.”

Hermione blinked.

Pansy shrugged one shoulder. “Pure-blood girls are taught very young that confidence is part of the outfit. Stand straight. Smile. Never let anyone know you’re scared.” She met Hermione’s eyes in the mirror. “I was awful to you because you never needed any of that. You earned people’s respect. I inherited mine, and I was terrified someone would notice the difference.”

Silence settled comfortably between them.

Hermione looked at their reflections standing side by side. “I don’t think I ever stopped trying to prove I belonged,” she admitted. “Even after the war. Every meeting, every report, every project… I keep thinking if I make one mistake, everyone will remember I wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place.”

“They won’t,” Pansy said quietly.

“You sound very certain.”

“I am.” Pansy reached over to smooth one stubborn curl away from Hermione’s face. “Because the rest of us have been watching you for years. You notice everything. You make people feel heard without realizing you’re doing it. That’s not something you can fake.”

Hermione smiled, a little embarrassed but undeniably touched. “You know, beneath all the sarcasm, you’re actually rather kind.”

“Don’t spread that around.”

“I’ll consider it.”

They both laughed.

The rest of the evening slipped by easily. Hermione showed Pansy a charm that made fabric shimmer softly beneath candlelight without becoming gaudy, while Pansy patiently demonstrated the impossible art of symmetrical winged eyeliner. There were failed attempts, ruined cotton pads, and far too much laughing whenever one of them made the other look ridiculous. At one point Pansy ended up wearing oversized Gryffindor-red earrings she’d found buried in Hermione’s jewelry box, while Hermione reluctantly modeled a pair of elegant silver serpent earrings that Pansy insisted matched the gown perfectly. Somehow, what had started as reluctant cooperation became something neither of them wanted to end.

When Pansy finally gathered her things, she lingered at the doorway instead of leaving immediately. “You’re going to look incredible at the gala,” she said, her smile smaller now but far more genuine. “Not because of the dress.”

Hermione tilted her head. “No?”

Pansy shook her head. “Because you’ve finally stopped trying to disappear inside it.”

After she left, Hermione looked around the room. The pile of rejected robes was still scattered across the bed, makeup brushes littered the vanity, and abandoned accessories covered nearly every available surface, but somehow the mess no longer bothered her. The emerald gown rested neatly over the back of a chair, catching the moonlight spilling through the window. For the first time since the invitation had arrived, the gala didn’t feel like another test she had to pass. It felt like the beginning of something unexpected, and Hermione found herself smiling before she even realized she was doing it.

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Queerfic June #29

A Little Less Chaos

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: Smoking, insomnia, emotional conversations, stargazing, hand-holding, and the beginning of a romance.

Ship: Evan Rosier x Barty Crouch Jr.

Fluff

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The stone steps of the Astronomy Tower were freezing against Evan’s socks. He’d kicked his shoes off somewhere around the fifth floor after nearly tripping over them, deciding being quiet was probably more important than finding them again. The castle was weirdly peaceful at this hour, the kind of quiet that made him feel like everyone else had disappeared. Barty was exactly where he knew he’d be, sitting against the parapet with his tie loose, his robes half-open, and a cigarette glowing between his fingers. His hair was a mess, like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. “Thought I’d find you here,” Evan said, walking over. Barty didn’t look up. “Shouldn’t you be asleep, Rosie? You’ve got that perfect image to maintain.” Evan rolled his eyes and dropped down beside him. Their shoulders bumped. “Please. Coming from the guy who turned Mulciber’s shoelaces into snakes because he insulted your handwriting?” Barty shrugged. “He deserved it.” Evan tried not to smile. “Yeah, honestly, he kinda did.” That got a laugh out of him. Quiet, tired, but real. Evan liked those laughs best.

They sat there for a while without saying much. It was something Evan liked about Barty. Everyone else seemed to expect him to be loud all the time, like he was only worth paying attention to when he was causing trouble. Evan knew there were nights where Barty just got tired of being that person. The wind brushed past them, cold against Evan’s face, and the stars hung above the tower like they had nowhere else to be. “Can’t sleep?” Evan asked eventually. Barty let out a small laugh. “When do I ever?” Fair point. After a minute, Barty tilted his head back. “They’re weird tonight.” Evan looked over. “The stars?” “Yeah.” Barty frowned. “They all just… know where they’re supposed to go. Everything’s organized up there.” He tapped his fingers against the stone. “Down here feels like everyone’s just guessing.”

Evan looked at him properly. Without the usual grin or the sharp comments, Barty looked younger. Not less himself, just less like he was trying to prove something. “You know you’re not actually a disaster, right?” Evan said. Barty snorted. “You’ve clearly never seen me attempt homework.” “I’m serious.” Evan nudged his shoulder. “You’re smart. You’re just a bit insane.” “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Evan laughed quietly. “Don’t get used to it.” Barty glanced at him, a small smile forming. “Careful, Rosier. Someone might think you’re flirting.” Evan opened his mouth with some sarcastic reply ready, but it didn’t come out. Instead, he just shrugged. “Maybe they’d be right.” The silence after that felt different. Evan’s hand moved across the stone until his fingers brushed against Barty’s. Not forcing anything. Just there. Barty looked down at their hands for a second before turning his palm over and lacing their fingers together.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Barty admitted quietly. “Everyone acts like they’ve got everything figured out.” He glanced at Evan. “Even you.” Evan laughed under his breath. “You’re very wrong about me.” “Am I?” Barty raised an eyebrow. “You always seem like you know what to say.” Evan looked back at the sky. “I just say things confidently enough that people believe me.” That made Barty laugh again, warmer this time. “That’s actually kind of terrifying.” “Thanks.” Evan squeezed his hand. “Maybe nobody knows what they’re doing. Maybe everyone’s just pretending.” Barty was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “That’s… actually nice to hear.” Evan smiled. “Yeah. Thought you might like that.” For once, Barty didn’t have a joke ready.

They stayed until the sky started getting lighter, talking about stupid things and serious things and everything in between. They talked about Hogwarts, about people they hated, about what they’d do after they left, even though neither of them really knew. They didn’t make promises because neither of them were very good at those. But sitting there together felt like enough. When they finally stood up to head back down, Barty bumped Evan’s shoulder. “Next time you come looking for me, bring chocolate.” Evan looked at him. “Why?” “Because it makes everything better.” Evan rolled his eyes. “Only if you stop calling me Rosie in front of everyone.” Barty grinned. “I’ll think about it.” “That’s not a deal.” “It’s the closest you’re getting.” Evan laughed as they started down the stairs together, their hands brushing every so often before either of them finally pulled away.

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Queerfic June #28

After Hawkins

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: Friends-to-lovers romance, mutual pining, first kiss, references to past trauma, college roommates, emotional healing.

Ship: Will Byers x Mike Wheeler

Fluff

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The dorm room smelled like cheap coffee, acrylic paint, and the kind of dust that probably existed before either of them moved in. Will Byers had claimed the corner by the window on the first day, mostly because the lighting was better there. He’d hung up fairy lights around his desk because the overhead lights made everything feel too harsh, and he needed at least one thing that made the room feel like his. He hadn’t expected Mike Wheeler to be his roommate. Not that he was complaining. Mike was still Mike: messy hair, terrible time management, and somehow always ready to argue about something completely unnecessary. D&D rules, fantasy books, whether Will’s music was “too depressing.” Some things apparently didn’t change, even after leaving Hawkins behind.

“You know most people unpack their clothes first,” Mike had said during move-in week, watching Will carefully organize his sketchbooks. Will glanced over. “Most people don’t have their priorities straight.” Mike had laughed, and it was weird how familiar it felt. Like no time had passed at all.

Now it was October, and their room had basically become a mix of Will’s art supplies and Mike’s complete inability to keep anything organized. Will’s side was covered in pencils, paint tubes, books, and half-finished drawings, while Mike’s side looked like a laundry pile that had somehow become permanent. He insisted he knew where everything was, but Will had watched him search for his phone while it was literally in his hand.

Will was studying Fine Arts, which meant spending most nights staring at a canvas and trying to figure out why it wasn’t working. Mike was in Computer Science, but somehow still found plenty of time to bother him. “Hey,” Mike said one night. Will didn’t look away from his painting. “What?” “You’ve been staring at that same spot forever.” “I’m thinking.” “You’re staring.” Will sighed and turned around. Mike was sitting on his bed with his laptop open, watching him. “I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with it.” Mike got up and walked over, looking at the painting with way too much confidence for someone who had no idea what he was talking about. “Hmm.” Will raised an eyebrow. “What?” “I have no idea.” Will laughed. “Wow. Helpful.” “But I think it looks good.” “You don’t know anything about art.” “Okay, but I know what I like.”

That was the problem with Mike. He was annoying and dramatic and impossible sometimes, but Will liked him anyway. He liked the way Mike filled silence without even thinking about it. He liked that Mike still remembered little things about him after all these years. He liked that, no matter how much things changed, Mike still felt like home. Which was exactly why it was a problem. Somewhere along the way, Will had started looking at him differently. Not just as his best friend. Not just as the person who had always been there. As Mike.

The weeks passed, and they fell into a routine without really noticing. Mike helped Will carry supplies to class while complaining the entire time. Will sat through Mike explaining coding projects he barely understood because Mike got this look on his face when he was excited, and Will liked seeing it. They ate together, studied together, and stayed up late talking about things that didn’t matter. They didn’t talk about Hawkins much. Not because they wanted to forget it, but because they were finally building something new.

One Friday night, Mike convinced Will to go to a dorm party. It lasted less than an hour before they both decided they’d rather be back in their room. “I don’t get it,” Will said as they walked back. “People just stand around and yell over music?” Mike shrugged. “Maybe that’s the college experience.” “That’s disappointing.” “We’re old now.” “We’re eighteen.” “Exactly.” Will rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

When they got back, they ended up sitting on Mike’s bed watching a movie neither of them were actually paying attention to. The heater was broken again, so Mike threw a blanket over them and claimed it was “survival.” “You could just put on a sweatshirt,” Will pointed out. Mike looked offended. “And abandon you?” Will laughed. “You’re ridiculous.” “You love it.” Will opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out because, unfortunately, Mike was right.

The rain tapped against the window, and for once Mike wasn’t talking. That was what made Will nervous. Mike was never quiet. “I used to think about this a lot,” Mike said. Will looked over. “About what?” “Leaving Hawkins.” Mike stared at the rain. “I used to wonder if we’d ever actually get out. If we’d ever get to have a normal life.” Will nodded slowly. “Me too.” After a while, Will said quietly, “I used to wonder about us.” Mike looked at him. “What do you mean?” Will immediately regretted it. “Nothing.” “Will.” He hated that Mike could still do that. Say his name once and suddenly Will felt like he couldn’t hide anything. “I just wondered if we’d always be friends.”

Mike was quiet for a moment before looking down at his hands. “I wondered that too.” Will froze. Mike gave a small laugh. “I spent a long time telling myself I cared about you because you were my best friend. And I do. You are my best friend. But I think it’s more than that.” He looked up.

“It’s you, Will.” The words weren’t dramatic or perfect. They were just honest, and somehow that meant more. “I love you,” Will whispered. Mike blinked, then smiled. “You really couldn’t let me finish my whole speech?” Will laughed quietly. “Sorry.” “No, it’s okay. I love you too.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. It wasn’t some huge movie moment. It was just two people who had spent years being scared to say something finally saying it. Then Mike reached for his hand. The kiss was careful and nervous and a little awkward, but Will didn’t care. It didn’t have to be perfect. It just had to be real.

The next morning, Will woke up before Mike and started drawing. He was halfway through when Mike opened one eye. “Are you drawing me?” Will froze. Mike looked at the sketchbook and smirked. “That’s kind of creepy.” “You fell asleep next to an artist.” “Fair.”

Winter came quickly after that. Snow covered the campus, and everything felt quieter. Walking back from dinner one night, their hands brushed together, and Mike looked at him for a second before taking his hand like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Boyfriends?” Mike asked. Will smiled. “Yeah.” Mike grinned. “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

There wasn’t some huge announcement. They didn’t need one. They had spent enough of their lives dealing with things that were bigger than them. This was simple. This was good. Back in their room, the fairy lights glowed above Will’s desk while Mike read from an old campaign book. Will leaned against him, listening to Mike’s voice and the steady rhythm of his breathing. For the first time in a long time, Will wasn’t waiting for something bad to happen.

“You know,” he said quietly, “you’re my favorite adventure.”

Mike looked down at him. “That was extremely cheesy.”

Will smiled. “You liked it.”

Mike sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

Outside, snow kept falling. Inside, they stayed exactly where they were.

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Queerfic June #27

Community Service

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: Contains dark humor, sarcastic references to death, mild profanity, and characters skipping school.

Ship: Jecka x Nicole

Fluff

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The cafeteria smelled like burnt grease and whatever mystery meat the school had managed to scrape together that morning. Nicole stared at her lunch like it had personally offended her, lazily dragging a plastic fork through mashed potatoes that looked suspiciously glossy.

“This has to violate, like, at least twelve health codes,” she muttered. “Honestly, I hope it kills me. It’d be the most useful thing this school has ever done.”

Jecka didn’t even bother looking up from her phone. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m realistic.”

“No, you’re dramatic. There’s a difference.”

Nicole leaned back in her chair, balancing it on two legs. “This place is basically a prison where they occasionally hand us expired food so we don’t sue.”

Jecka finally glanced over the top of her screen. “Then leave.”

“And miss watching everyone here pretend their lives matter?” Nicole snorted. “Please. The entertainment value’s too high.”

Jecka rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched anyway. She hated when Nicole was funny because it usually meant she was about to say something even worse.

“You know,” Nicole continued, pointing her fork at her, “you’re here every time I decide to spiral. That’s kind of weird.”

“I’m not here for you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m here because everyone else is boring.”

Nicole smirked. “That’s basically a love confession coming from you.”

“In your dreams.”

“The dreams where you stop pretending you actually like those cheer girls?”

Jecka let out a dry laugh. “Please. Half of them think personality is reposting relationship quotes on Instagram.”

“And the other half?”

“They’re dating football players with the combined IQ of a microwave.”

Nicole barked out a laugh loud enough to earn a dirty look from one of the lunch monitors. She ignored it.

“See?” she said. “You get me.”

“I tolerate you.”

“That’s basically friendship.”

“It’s basically community service.”

The bell rang, sending everyone else scrambling toward the exits. Chairs screeched against the floor as the cafeteria emptied, but neither of them moved.

Nicole looked toward the hallway before turning back to Jecka. “You going to math?”

Jecka made a face like she’d just been asked to eat the cafeteria food voluntarily.

“Absolutely not.”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“You keep me around because everyone else annoys you.”

Nicole shrugged. “Yeah.”

“And because I drive.”

“…That too.”

Jecka slipped her phone into her pocket and stood, grabbing her bag. “Come on. If I’m skipping class, I’m at least getting coffee out of it.”

“You buying?”

“I literally drove you.”

“So?”

“So that’s your payment.”

Nicole sighed dramatically as she stood. “You’re unbelievably selfish.”

“And yet you’re still following me.”

“Because walking is free.”

They shoved through the side doors and stepped into the afternoon air like they weren’t ditching class for the third time that week. Nicole stuffed her hands into her hoodie pocket while Jecka fished around for her car keys.

“You know,” Nicole said after a minute, “if you ever became a decent person, I’d have to stop hanging out with you.”

Jecka unlocked the car with a click. “Good thing that’s never happening.”

“Yeah.”

Nicole climbed into the passenger seat without another word.

It wasn’t loyalty. It wasn’t affection. It definitely wasn’t whatever cheesy bullshit people wrote songs about.

It was just easier dealing with the world’s constant garbage when there was someone sitting beside you making fun of it, too.

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Queerfic June #26

Muggle London Exploration

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: Muggle culture exploration, music, food, teasing, and developing friendship/romance.

Ship: Blaise Zabini x Ron Weasley

Fluff

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Blaise Zabini had mastered the art of looking unimpressed. Arms folded across his chest, chin tilted just enough to seem vaguely superior, he regarded Ron Weasley with the same bored expression he’d worn through half their years at Hogwarts. Ron, meanwhile, looked far too pleased with himself. His ginger hair was windswept, freckles bright against sun-warmed skin, and he wore that grin—the one that always made it seem like he’d just come up with the greatest idea anyone had ever had.

“C’mon, mate,” Ron said. “Let me show you the real world for once.”

Blaise snorted. “I’ve been in the real world.”

“No, you’ve been in the wizarding world.” Ron nudged his shoulder. “Big difference.”

“I fail to see how.”

“You will.”

Blaise let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But only because I’ve got absolutely nothing better to do.”

Ron grinned triumphantly. “Knew you’d come around.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did enough.”

Their first stop was a tiny record shop tucked away on a quiet London side street. A brass bell jingled overhead as they stepped inside, and Blaise paused almost immediately. The place smelled of old paper sleeves, polished vinyl, and dust that had settled over decades. Music drifted softly through the shop while colorful album covers lined the shelves from floor to ceiling. It wasn’t anything like the magical music shops he’d been in before, but there was something oddly comforting about it.

Ron disappeared between the shelves before Blaise had even finished looking around. “Oh! Here.” He pulled out a record and held it up with obvious excitement. “The Beatles.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Should I know who they are?”

Ron stared at him like he’d confessed he’d never heard of chocolate. “You’re serious?”

“I’ve never exactly spent my free time exploring Muggle music.”

“Well, today you are.”

Before Blaise could object, Ron had already dragged him over to one of the listening stations and dropped a pair of headphones into his hands.

“Just listen.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Blaise slipped them on.

The music started quietly before building into something warm and effortless. There wasn’t a trace of magic in it—no enchanted instruments, no charms woven into the melody. Just voices, guitars, and something honest that caught him off guard. Without realizing it, the tension eased from his shoulders.

When the song ended, he pulled the headphones off and found Ron watching him with barely concealed anticipation.

“Well?” Ron asked.

Blaise considered making something cutting up on the spot, but… “It’s decent.”

Ron laughed so loudly a woman browsing nearby glanced over. “Decent! From you, that’s basically glowing praise.”

“Don’t get carried away.”

“Too late.”

Their next stop was a crowded street market. The air was thick with the smell of fried food, fresh bread, and spices drifting from every direction while vendors shouted over one another. Ron came back balancing fish and chips in one hand and two steaming pasties in the other.

“Here.”

Blaise eyed the paper tray skeptically. “It looks alarmingly greasy.”

“Exactly. That’s how you know it’s good.”

“I don’t think that’s how food works.”

“It does today.”

Still doubtful, Blaise broke off a piece of battered fish. The crunch came first, then soft flaky fish and just enough salt to make him blink. It was far better than he’d expected.

Across from him, Ron was already halfway through his own meal, somehow managing to get sauce on his chin.

“What?” Ron asked around another bite.

“Nothing.”

“You like it.”

“I said nothing.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Ron bumped his shoulder with an unbearably smug smile. Blaise rolled his eyes, but it was getting harder to pretend he wasn’t enjoying himself. Ron had always been loud, endlessly enthusiastic, and impossible to ignore. Somehow, instead of wearing Blaise down, it made the day feel lighter than he’d expected.

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Queerfic June #25

Band Practice Support

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: Mild language, brief mentions of cigarette smoke, and romantic pining.

Ship: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Fluff

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The garage smelled like old amps, cigarette smoke, and the faint metallic tang of guitar strings. Corroded Coffin was deep into rehearsal, Jeff’s bass rumbling through the concrete floor while Gareth hammered away at the drums. At the center of it all stood Eddie Munson, wild curls sticking to his sweat-damp forehead as his fingers flew across the fretboard. He looked completely at home beneath the buzzing overhead light, commanding the chaos like a conductor leading an orchestra only he could hear.

And Steve Harrington?

Steve was sprawled across a rickety folding chair in the corner, arms crossed over his polo shirt, looking like the last person who should have been hanging around a metal band’s practice session.

Eddie had invited him on a whim a few days earlier.

“Come see the magic, Harrington. Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.”

He’d expected polite boredom. Maybe a few jokes. An eye roll or two.

Instead, the second the song crashed to a stop, Steve shot to his feet.

“Fuck yeah, Munson!”

The grin on his face was so wide and genuine that it caught Eddie completely off guard.

“That riff at the end?” Steve continued, pointing excitedly. “Insane. You guys sound like… I don’t know… like a thunderstorm having a really wild adventure with a dragon.”

Gareth snorted so hard he nearly dropped a drumstick.

Jeff just stared.

Eddie blinked before a laugh escaped him, loud and genuine.

“A dragon, huh?” he said. “I’ll take it, Stevie.”

Steve leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, completely serious despite how ridiculous the comparison sounded.

“I’m serious. Play that slower one from last time again. I’ve been humming it all week.”

That surprised Eddie more than he wanted to admit.

So they kept playing.

They ran through the rest of the setlist while Steve stayed right where he was, nodding along to every song, cheering after every solo, and reacting like he was watching a sold-out arena show instead of four teenagers sweating it out in a dusty garage in Hawkins, Indiana.

His enthusiasm was ridiculous.

And somehow, completely infectious.

Eddie found himself playing harder because of it.

When they launched into one of their heavier songs, Steve even tried singing along under his breath.

The problem was that Steve Harrington couldn’t carry a tune to save his life.

His voice cracked every other note, drifting hopelessly off-key in a way that should have been painful.

Instead, it was weirdly charming.

Eddie caught him halfway through the chorus and nearly dropped his pick.

Warmth spread through his chest before he could stop it.

Steve wasn’t pretending to like this.

He wasn’t here to make fun of them.

He was genuinely invested.

For the band.

For Eddie.

“Stevie,” Eddie called during a water break, wiping sweat from his forehead. “You’re gonna make me blush if you keep cheering like that while I’m trying to shred.”

A faint pink tint appeared on Steve’s cheeks, but he smirked right back.

“Can’t help it. You guys are awesome when you’re in your element.”

The compliment landed harder than it should have.

Eventually rehearsal wrapped up. Gareth and Jeff packed their gear, throwing a few knowing looks Eddie’s way as they headed for the door.

“Don’t stay up too late, Eds,” Gareth called with a grin.

Eddie flipped him off.

Gareth laughed all the way down the driveway.

Then the garage fell quiet.

Just Eddie.

And Steve.

The sudden silence felt strangely comfortable.

Eddie crossed the room and picked up the acoustic guitar resting in the corner. It wasn’t the instrument he usually reached for. Most people only ever saw him with an electric slung over his shoulder.

The acoustic was different.

More personal.

Steve watched him settle onto the old couch they’d dragged into the garage years ago.

“C’mere,” Eddie said, patting the cushion beside him.

Steve joined him without hesitation, dropping down close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

Eddie adjusted the guitar and let his fingers drift across the strings.

Soft chords filled the room.

The melody of the slower song Steve had requested earlier emerged from beneath his fingertips, gentle and warm compared to the aggressive energy of rehearsal.

No distortion.

No screaming amps.

Just music.

And Steve listening.

Really listening.

The kind of listening that made Eddie feel like every note mattered.

When he reached the chorus, Steve started humming along.

Still painfully off-key.

Still terrible.

Still somehow making Eddie smile.

The song ended on a final lingering chord.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

Then Eddie carefully set the guitar aside and nudged Steve’s shoulder.

“You’re awful, you know that?”

Steve laughed.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

The worst part was that Steve was right.

Steve bumped his shoulder again.

“Seriously, though. Thanks for letting me hang out. I know this isn’t really my thing, but…” He glanced around the garage before looking back at Eddie. “It’s cool seeing you like this. Happy. In your zone.”

Something soft settled inside Eddie’s chest.

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy.

“Didn’t think you’d actually enjoy it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie shrugged. “It’s loud. Weird. Full of nerds and metalheads.”

Steve snorted.

“You just described half of my favorite people.”

Eddie couldn’t help smiling.

“Still. Having you here kinda makes the whole thing better.”

Steve’s expression softened immediately.

“It’s not really about the music, Eds.”

Eddie looked up.

Steve was watching him with that steady, earnest gaze that always seemed capable of cutting straight through every defense he had.

“It’s about you,” Steve said quietly. “Always has been.”

The words hit harder than any guitar riff ever could.

“You’re a good guy, you know that? Even if you spend all your energy trying to hide it under all that hair and metal.”

Eddie laughed, but it came out quieter than usual.

Warmer.

He picked the acoustic back up and adjusted it across his lap.

“Stay for the encore?”

Steve’s smile appeared instantly.

“Just you and me?”

“No band. No pressure.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, rockstar.”

Eddie looked down at the strings, suddenly grateful Steve couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

He started playing again.

Something new this time.

Something unfinished.

Soft and hopeful and written during late nights when sleep refused to come because Steve Harrington kept finding his way into Eddie’s thoughts.

Steve listened.

He hummed along.

He missed every note.

And somehow, none of it mattered.

Because sitting there in the dim garage light, with Steve beside him and music filling the space between them, Eddie felt something settle into place.

Something easy.

Something real.

Maybe it wasn’t love yet.

Maybe it wasn’t anything they could name.

But as Steve smiled at him across the guitar strings, it felt a lot like the beginning of something good.

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Queerfic June #24

For The Shadow Boy

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: High school AU, awkward friendship beginnings, mentions of loneliness and self-esteem issues, overall wholesome tone.

Ship: Nico Di Angelo x Will Solace

Fluff

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The final bell rang with its familiar tinny echo, signaling the end of another day at Westover High. Lockers slammed shut up and down the hallway while students spilled toward the exits, swapping burned CDs, making weekend plans, and shouting goodbyes over the noise. Will Solace leaned against his locker with his letterman jacket slung over one shoulder, trying his best to look relaxed.

It wasn’t working.

His thoughts kept drifting back to the same person.

Nico di Angelo.

Nico moved through the halls like a shadow. Black hoodie. Baggy jeans. Headphones always hanging around his neck or covering his ears. Dark hair constantly falling into his eyes. He sat in the back of Biology doodling skulls and strange ghostly figures instead of taking notes, and that permanent scowl on his face kept most people from getting too close. Will had noticed him for years, but he’d always assumed Nico wanted absolutely nothing to do with someone like him.

Senior year was almost halfway over, though, and Will was tired of watching from a distance.

“Yo, Solace! My place this weekend?” Jake called, smacking him on the arm as he walked past.

“Yeah, maybe,” Will replied with a grin. “Got some stuff going on.”

It was a complete lie.

The second the hallway cleared out, Will headed for the Biology lab.

Nico had been assigned mandatory tutoring after bombing the last quiz, and Will had signed up to be a tutor weeks ago the second he saw the list.

When he stepped into the classroom, Nico was already there. He sat slouched at one of the lab tables, sketching in the margins of his notebook. His black nail polish was chipped, and his oversized hoodie looked like it had seen better days.

“Hey,” Will said, dropping his backpack onto the table across from him.

Nico glanced up slowly.

“Solace.” His eyes narrowed. “The soccer captain’s my tutor? Great.”

Will laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Guilty. Let’s try not to make this painful. What’s giving you trouble? Mitosis? Cellular respiration? The terrifying world of the Krebs cycle?”

“Everything,” Nico muttered.

He shoved his notebook across the table. His handwriting was cramped and messy, with crossed-out words scattered everywhere.

“Doesn’t really matter. Not like I’m gonna be a doctor or anything. I just want people to leave me alone.”

Something about the way he said it made Will’s chest tighten.

“You’re not pointless, you know.”

Nico rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t say I was.”

“You kind of did.”

The room fell quiet. Somewhere out in the hallway, a ringtone started playing a snippet of a Green Day song before abruptly cutting off.

Will leaned back in his chair.

“I get wanting space,” he said. “Trust me. But maybe it doesn’t have to be all the time.”

Nico pulled one headphone off his ear and stared at him.

“Why are you even bothering?”

“What?”

“With this.” Nico gestured vaguely between them. “The whole school basically revolves around you and your friends. Why waste your time talking to the weird emo kid?”

Will shrugged.

“I don’t know. You seem real.”

Nico blinked.

“The drawings. The fact that you don’t fake stuff to impress people. And sometimes you laugh at my terrible jokes in Bio.”

“I do not.”

“You totally do.”

“I absolutely don’t.”

“You smirk.”

Nico immediately looked away.

Will grinned.

“See? Just did it.”

For a second, Nico looked genuinely caught off guard.

Before he could argue, Will reached into his backpack and pulled out a jewel case.

The cover was blank except for words written in black Sharpie.

For the Shadow Boy – Apollo’s Mix

Nico stared at it.

Slowly, he took it from Will’s hands.

“You made me a CD?”

“Yeah.”

Nico turned the case over carefully, as if he thought it might disappear.

“You noticed what music I listen to?”

“Yeah.”

The answer came easily.

“I notice things about people I want to be friends with.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Nico let out a quiet huff that might’ve been a laugh.

“You’re weird, Solace.”

“That’s fair.”

“If this has, like, Matchbox Twenty on it, I’m throwing it out the window.”

Will gasped dramatically.

“First of all, rude.”

That finally earned him an actual smile.

It was small and gone almost immediately, but Will caught it.

And somehow that felt like winning a championship game.

The tutoring session ended up being only half studying. They got through a few worksheets, but mostly they talked. Will told him about wanting to become a doctor someday because helping people felt important. Nico talked about Bianca, how she’d always understood him better than anyone else before leaving for college. He admitted school sometimes felt like walking through a gray fog that never really lifted.

It wasn’t some magical movie moment where they instantly became best friends.

But it felt like the beginning of something.

Over the next few weeks, things settled into a rhythm.

They nodded at each other in the halls.

Nico kept showing up for tutoring, even after he technically didn’t need it anymore.

Will lent him more CDs.

Nico eventually let him flip through a few pages of his sketchbook.

The drawings were dark, filled with shadows and monsters and lonely-looking figures, but they were beautiful too. Honest in a way most things weren’t.

Slowly, without either of them really meaning to, they became friends.

Real friends.

By Friday night, Will found himself scanning the crowd at the soccer game before warmups had even started.

And there Nico was.

Standing near the fence in his usual black hoodie, hands shoved into his pockets.

Watching.

Will couldn’t stop smiling.

After the game ended with a win, he jogged straight over.

“You came.”

Nico shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“It wasn’t terrible.”

“Wow. High praise.”

“The bar was low.”

Will laughed.

There it was again—that tiny smile trying to hide itself.

A little while later, they ended up at the gas station down the road, grabbing oversized slushies before sitting in Will’s car by the empty field.

The windows were rolled down. Cool autumn air drifted through the car while one of Will’s CDs played softly through the speakers.

The stadium lights glowed in the distance.

They talked about classes they hated, teachers that made no sense, what they wanted to do after graduation, and every random thing in between. Somewhere along the way, the conversation became easy.

Natural.

The sky faded from gold to deep blue, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them seemed in a hurry to leave.

It felt like the start of something neither of them could name yet.

But sitting there beneath the fading lights of Westover High, with music humming softly through the speakers and Nico’s shoulder brushing his every now and then, Will thought maybe he didn’t need a name for it.

Not yet.

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Queerfic June #23

Skate Park Lessons

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: Friendship, skateboarding lessons, telekinetic powers, humor, and summer fluff.

Ship: Max Mayfield x Jane "El" Hopper

Fluff

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The abandoned skate park on the edge of Hawkins had become their spot. The cracked concrete ramps were split with weeds, the bowls covered in layers of faded graffiti from kids who had long since moved on. Nobody came here anymore. It was quiet except for the occasional chirp of crickets and the distant hum of traffic. Just Max and El beneath a sky washed in warm gold as the afternoon slowly drifted toward evening.

“Alright, El,” Max said, dropping her skateboard at Eleven’s feet. “Lesson one: don’t eat concrete. Lesson two… try not to look like a baby deer on ice.”

Eleven stared at the board suspiciously for a second, as if it might suddenly spring to life. Then a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I will… try.”

“That’s the spirit.” Max grinned and stepped behind her, gently guiding her into position. “Put your feet here. Bend your knees a little. You gotta stay loose.” She nudged El’s shoulder playfully. “Think of it like getting ready to fight a Demogorgon.”

“I fought many Demogorgons.”

“Okay, fair point. But somehow skateboarding is scarier.”

El huffed out a laugh.

The moment she tried to move, the board shot forward an inch. Her arms pinwheeled wildly as she fought for balance. Max barely had time to react before El lurched sideways. She caught her around the waist, steadying her before she could fall.

For a second they just stood there, startled.

Then they both burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” Max said between laughs. “You are unbelievably bad at this.”

Eleven narrowed her eyes. “You said I would be good.”

“I said you could be good. Big difference.”

They tried again.

And again.

And again.

Every attempt seemed to end the same way. El would wobble, the board would roll somewhere it wasn’t supposed to, and Max would end up catching her before disaster struck. More than once they collapsed onto the concrete laughing so hard they could barely breathe. The empty skate park echoed with the sound, filling the abandoned space with life again.

Still, El refused to quit.

Max admired that about her. No matter how frustrating something was, she always kept trying.

On what felt like the hundredth attempt, El stepped onto the board and pushed off.

This time she stayed upright.

The board rolled smoothly beneath her feet.

Too smoothly.

Max immediately squinted.

“Hold on.”

El glided forward with surprising confidence, arms stretched out dramatically like she was showing off.

“Hold on!”

A grin spread across Eleven’s face.

“Are you cheating?”

“No.”

The answer came far too quickly.

“El.”

“No powers.”

The skateboard suddenly popped neatly into her hand the second she stepped off it.

Max stared.

El stared back.

Neither said anything.

Then Max threw her hands in the air.

“That is literally the opposite of convincing!”

A laugh escaped Eleven before she could stop it.

“A little powers,” she admitted.

“A little powers,” Max repeated, shaking her head. “You are impossible.”

“But I did not fall.”

“Because you basically turned the skateboard into a magic carpet.”

“It worked.”

Max rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop smiling.

The lesson continued anyway. Sometimes El actually practiced. Sometimes Max caught her secretly using her abilities to stay balanced. Every time she got caught, she’d try—and fail—to hide her grin. The teasing never stopped.

“Bend your knees.”

“I am bending.”

“You look like a scared flamingo.”

“What is a flamingo?”

“Oh my God.”

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, painting everything in shades of orange and pink, they finally gave up for the day. Exhausted and laughing, they climbed to the top of the half-pipe and sat side by side with their legs hanging over the edge.

Max dug through her backpack and pulled out two slushies.

“Cherry,” she said, handing one over.

Eleven accepted it immediately. “Thank you.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping their drinks and watching the sunlight fade beyond the trees.

“You know,” Max said eventually, resting her head lightly against El’s shoulder, “I don’t actually care if you cheated.”

Eleven looked over.

“You don’t?”

“Nope.” Max shrugged. “The best part was watching you try.”

A small smile appeared on El’s face.

“I liked trying.”

“Even when you almost fell every five seconds?”

“Especially then.”

Max laughed softly.

The evening breeze drifted through the empty park, carrying the scent of summer grass and warm pavement. For a while neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to.

Finally, Eleven nudged Max’s shoulder with her own.

“You make things less scary.”

Max blinked.

“Even skateboards?”

“Even skateboards.”

A grin spread across Max’s face.

“Wow. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“It is true.”

The sky above them deepened into streaks of purple and pink. Somewhere in the distance, a car drove down the highway. The world kept moving, but up there on the edge of the ramp, everything felt still.

In Hawkins, things had a habit of changing. Monsters appeared. Friendships shifted. Life rarely stayed simple for long.

But for one quiet summer evening, sitting together above an abandoned skate park with half-melted slushies in their hands and laughter still lingering in the air, things felt exactly the way they were supposed to.

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Queerfic June #22

Newspaper Office Late Nights

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: F/F romance, investigative journalism, mutual pining, hand-holding, physical affection, and mystery-solving.

Ship: Nancy Wheeler x Robin Buckley

Fluff

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The fluorescent lights of the Hawkins Post buzzed overhead, casting pale light across cluttered desks and yellowing newspaper clippings. Nancy Wheeler dropped a fresh stack of files onto the conference table with enough force to make Robin jump.

“This isn’t just small-town corruption,” Nancy said, already flipping through pages. “Something’s wrong with these disappearances. The official reports don’t add up.”

Robin Buckley leaned back in her chair, sneakers propped on the edge of the desk. “There she is. Nancy Wheeler, investigative menace.” A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “But sometimes, Detective Wheeler, you need a little chaos mixed in with all that determination. Pass me the police blotter again?”

Nancy slid it across the table.

Their fingers brushed.

It lasted less than a second, but Robin felt it anyway—a tiny spark that made her glance up before quickly looking back at the papers.

Over the course of the afternoon, they’d fallen into their usual rhythm. Nancy chased facts with relentless focus while Robin spotted details everyone else missed. Twice already, Robin had caught inconsistencies that pushed the investigation forward: witness statements with impossible dates and a cryptic tipster’s letter that turned out to be written in abbreviated lab terminology.

“Wait.” Robin sat upright so suddenly her chair squeaked. “Look at this.”

Nancy immediately moved closer.

Robin grabbed a highlighter and circled a name.

“This guy is listed as unemployed here,” she said, tapping one document, “but his wife’s obituary says he worked night shifts at Hawkins Lab.”

Nancy’s eyes widened.

“That’s it.”

“Right?” Robin pointed excitedly between the pages. “Your theory was right. Someone’s covering something up.”

Nancy’s face broke into a triumphant smile.

Robin hated how much that smile affected her.

“You’re brilliant, Robin.”

Before Robin could think of something sarcastic to say, Nancy reached across the table for a high-five.

Robin met her hand.

The clap echoed through the empty office.

Neither of them pulled away immediately.

For a brief moment, their palms remained pressed together, fingers loosely intertwined.

Then they both let go.

Neither mentioned it.

Hours slipped by in a blur of coffee cups, highlighted documents, and increasingly reckless ideas.

“What if we pretend to be interns and sneak into the archives?” Robin suggested at one point.

Nancy didn’t even look up from her notes.

“That’s illegal.”

“Okay, but is it illegal if we’re helping journalism?”

“Yes.”

Robin grinned. “Good. Just checking.”

By midnight, they finally had it.

A complete trail of evidence leading straight to the center of Hawkins’ newest mystery.

The story was theirs.

Exhausted and running on caffeine fumes, they collapsed onto the worn couch in the break room. Case files were scattered across the coffee table like trophies from a battle they’d somehow survived.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Nancy let her head fall back against the couch cushions and closed her eyes.

“You were incredible today.”

Robin looked over.

Nancy’s voice had softened, stripped of the sharp determination she’d worn all evening.

“I mean it,” Nancy continued. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Something warm settled in Robin’s chest.

Before she could respond, Nancy shifted closer and rested her head against Robin’s shoulder.

Robin completely forgot how breathing worked.

Nancy sighed contentedly, seemingly unaware of the effect she was having.

“You keep me grounded,” she murmured. “And somehow you also make me more reckless.”

Robin laughed softly.

“Me? Reckless?” she asked. “That’s rich coming from the girl who faced interdimensional monsters with a shotgun.”

Nancy smiled against her shoulder.

Robin hesitated only a second before draping an arm around her.

“Honestly, though,” Robin said quietly, “working with you is probably the best decision I’ve ever made.”

Nancy lifted her head just enough to look at her.

The teasing smile Robin expected wasn’t there.

Just something warm.

Something that made her heart beat faster.

Nancy’s hand found Robin’s on the couch between them.

She squeezed gently.

“Yeah,” Nancy said. “Mine too.”

The room fell silent.

Outside, the building creaked softly in the darkness. Somewhere down the hall, an old fan hummed. But on the couch, wrapped in the glow of a single desk lamp, none of it seemed to matter.

Robin intertwined their fingers.

Nancy didn’t pull away.

Instead, she leaned back against Robin’s shoulder, settling comfortably into her side.

For once, there wasn’t a mystery to solve.

No monsters.

No danger.

Just the quiet certainty that whatever came next, they’d face it together.

Tomorrow would bring another lead, another impossible story, another late night at the Hawkins Post.

But tonight, Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley allowed themselves a rare moment of peace.

And maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something more.

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Queerfic June #21

Don't Get Excited

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: Comfort fic, implied crush, emotional support, soft friendship, and light banter.

Ship: Ari x Nicole

Fluff

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Nicole pounded on the door, already annoyed with herself for being there. This was stupid.

She didn’t know why she kept showing up at Ari’s house whenever everything else got on her nerves. Maybe because everyone else was unbearable tonight. Maybe because Ari always answered.

The door cracked open, and Ari peeked out.

The moment she saw Nicole, her face lit up.

“Nicole?” she said, blinking in surprise. “You’re here.”

“Don’t get all excited about it,” Nicole muttered, brushing past her and heading straight for the couch. She dropped onto it with a sigh. “I’m not here because I suddenly like you or anything. Everyone else just sucks right now.”

Ari closed the door behind her and lingered nearby, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Okay,” she said softly.

Nicole glanced over.

Ari was smiling.

Of course she was.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ari looked down for a second before meeting her eyes again. “I’m just happy you came.”

Nicole rolled her eyes dramatically.

“You’re so weird.”

“Yeah,” Ari admitted with a small laugh.

The room settled into a comfortable silence. After a moment, Ari finally sat down on the opposite end of the couch. Not too close. Not too far. Like she was carefully trying not to annoy her.

Nicole hated how considerate that was.

Ari tucked her legs underneath herself and glanced over.

“Do you want anything? My parents aren’t home. I could get snacks or something.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

A few more seconds passed.

“You don’t have to keep asking me stuff, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you?”

Ari shrugged.

“Because I like spending time with you.”

Nicole groaned and threw her head back against the couch cushion.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“The weird part.”

Ari laughed quietly.

Despite herself, Nicole felt the corner of her mouth twitch upward.

Neither of them pointed it out.

The conversation drifted after that—mostly Ari rambling about random things she’d read online and Nicole pretending she wasn’t listening while secretly paying attention to every word.

At some point, Nicole realized she wasn’t as angry anymore.

That was annoying.

Ari had a habit of doing that.

Eventually, Ari glanced at the clock.

“You can stay as long as you want.”

Nicole snorted.

“Don’t make it sound like some huge honor.”

“It is for me.”

Nicole stared at her.

Ari immediately looked away, her face turning pink.

“Sorry.”

“You seriously need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Being…” Nicole waved a hand vaguely. “Like that.”

Ari smiled sheepishly.

“I can’t really help it.”

Nicole groaned again, but there wasn’t much force behind it this time.

For a while, neither of them said anything. The television played quietly in the background while the evening stretched on around them.

Nicole told herself she’d leave in a minute.

Then another minute.

Then another.

But somehow she stayed exactly where she was.

And honestly, Ari’s company wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

She’d never admit that out loud, though.

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Queerfic June #20

The Nargle Hunter

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: F/F romance, developing feelings, hand-holding, Hogwarts shenanigans, and mild comedic chaos.

Ship: Luna Lovegood x Ginny Weasley

Fluff

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Ginny Weasley leaned against the stone wall of the corridor, her Quidditch robes still slightly damp from practice, watching with a fond smile as Luna Lovegood wandered ahead. Luna’s radish earrings swayed gently as she tilted her head, peering intently into a suit of armor’s empty helmet.

“Looking for Nargles again, Luna?” Ginny called, pushing off the wall with a playful grin.

Luna turned, her wide silver eyes lighting up. “Oh, hello, Ginny. Yes, they’ve been particularly mischievous today. I think one stole my left shoe earlier, though it might have been a Wrackspurt.”

Ginny laughed. “Of course it was.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just that somehow every strange thing that happens around Hogwarts ends up being either a Nargle or a Wrackspurt.”

“That’s because they’re responsible for most strange things,” Luna replied matter-of-factly.

“Right. Silly me.”

A smile tugged at Luna’s lips, and Ginny found herself smiling back.

“Well,” Ginny said, falling into step beside her, “I can’t let you hunt invisible creatures by yourself. You’ll never find them.”

“That’s true,” Luna agreed. “They are invisible.”

“What I meant was—never mind.”

Luna’s laugh was soft and airy, and Ginny felt the familiar warmth settle in her chest. Spending time with Luna always felt easy, like slipping into sunlight after a cloudy day.

Their search led them all over the castle. In the library, Luna became convinced a family of Nargles had taken up residence near the Restricted Section. Ginny attempted to help by levitating a stack of books out of the way, only for the entire pile to collapse with a thunderous crash.

Madam Pince’s horrified gasp echoed through the room.

“Run,” Ginny whispered.

They did.

By the time they escaped into the corridor, both girls were laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

Their adventure continued through secret passageways and moving staircases before eventually ending in the kitchens, where Luna somehow convinced a group of house-elves that Nargles enjoyed leftover treacle tart. Ginny wasn’t entirely sure how that conversation had happened, but she happily accepted a slice anyway.

Then Peeves spotted them.

Within moments they were sprinting through the castle as enchanted chalk flew past their heads.

“Faster!” Ginny shouted through her laughter.

“I am running as fast as existentially possible!”

“I don’t even know what that means!”

“It means I’m trying!”

Ginny grabbed Luna’s hand and pulled her behind a tapestry just as another piece of chalk whizzed by.

For a moment they stood pressed together in the narrow space, trying to stay quiet while Peeves drifted past muttering about “boring students who hated fun.”

Only when his voice faded did they finally relax.

Neither of them let go.

Ginny became suddenly aware of Luna’s hand in hers.

Warm.

Comforting.

Important.

When Luna glanced down at their joined fingers, she didn’t pull away either.

Instead, she smiled.

And somehow that smile made Ginny’s heart race more than outrunning Peeves ever had.

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Queerfic June #19

Boxing Gloves & Blue Notes

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: F/F romance, roommates-to-lovers, mutual pining, college AU, flirting, and emotional intimacy.

Ship: Vi x Caitlyn Kiramman

Fluff

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Vi knew who Caitlyn Kiramman was before she ever met her.

That was hard to avoid when the Kiramman name was plastered across half the campus.

Kiramman Hall.

Kiramman Research Center.

Kiramman Scholarship Foundation.

By the time Vi finally found her dorm building, she’d passed enough signs to wonder if the family secretly owned the university.

Which was exactly why she wasn’t thrilled when she checked her housing assignment and found herself paired with one of them.

Her flip phone buzzed as she hauled her duffel bag up the stairs.

Powder: don’t punch ur roommate

Vi snorted.

Vi: no promises

Room 312 sat at the end of the hallway.

The door was already cracked open.

Vi pushed it wider with her shoulder and stepped inside.

The first thing she noticed was that somebody had already unpacked.

The second thing she noticed was that her roommate was ridiculously attractive.

Tall. Dark-haired. Well-dressed.

Annoyingly well-dressed for move-in day.

Caitlyn Kiramman looked up from the closet and froze.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Caitlyn straightened.

“You must be Vi.”

Vi dropped her duffel onto the empty bed.

“You must be rich.”

A beat of silence.

Then Caitlyn blinked.

“…Good afternoon to you too.”

Vi couldn’t help laughing.

At least the rich girl had a sense of humor.

“I took the left side,” Caitlyn continued. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Sure.”

Vi flopped onto the mattress.

The springs immediately groaned in protest.

“Luxury accommodations.”

“I think that’s sarcasm.”

“You think?”

The corner of Caitlyn’s mouth twitched.

Interesting.

Maybe she wasn’t as uptight as she’d looked.

Vi dug through her bag until she found her CD player and slid in a burned mix.

A few seconds later, Green Day filled the room.

Not loud enough to start a fight.

Just loud enough to make a statement.

Behind her, Caitlyn continued unpacking.

Vi watched her for a moment.

Who brought a blazer to college move-in?

Who ironed their clothes before classes even started?

Who looked that put together standing in a dorm room with peeling paint and suspicious carpet?

Unfortunately, all three answers appeared to be Caitlyn Kiramman.

Caitlyn glanced over her shoulder.

“Are you staring at me?”

Vi immediately looked away.

“No.”

“You were.”

“I was judging your wardrobe.”

“Hm.”

“Hm what?”

“Nothing.”

The fact that Caitlyn was clearly trying not to smile was irritating.

The fact that Vi noticed was worse.

————————————————–—

Living together turned out to be surprisingly easy.

Not because they had anything in common.

They absolutely didn’t.

Vi left clothes wherever they landed.

Caitlyn folded everything.

Vi survived on vending machine snacks and cafeteria pizza.

Caitlyn somehow remembered to buy actual groceries.

Vi listened to Green Day.

Caitlyn studied.

Vi listened to My Chemical Romance.

Caitlyn studied.

Vi listened to The Killers.

Caitlyn still studied.

“Do you ever do anything besides read?” Vi asked one night.

Without looking up from her textbook, Caitlyn replied, “Do you ever do anything besides make noise?”

“Sometimes I box.”

“That still falls under making noise.”

Vi laughed.

Caitlyn tried not to.

Tried and failed.

By October, they were spending most evenings together without really planning to.

Sometimes Vi would sprawl across her bed after practice while Caitlyn worked at her desk.

Sometimes Caitlyn would read sections of her essays out loud just to hear Vi complain about them.

Somewhere along the way, sharing a room stopped feeling strange.

It started feeling normal.

Dangerously normal.

————————————————–—

One evening, Vi stumbled back from boxing practice exhausted.

Her shoulder hurt.

Her ribs hurt.

She wanted a shower and ten hours of sleep.

Instead she opened the door and found Caitlyn buried beneath a mountain of textbooks.

Color-coded notes covered nearly every available surface.

Vi stopped in the doorway.

“What kind of serial killer organization system is this?”

Caitlyn looked up.

“It’s called studying.”

“No, it’s called being frighteningly prepared.”

“It works.”

Vi dropped into her chair with a groan.

“You know, normal people just panic the night before.”

“Maybe that’s why your grades are concerning.”

Vi pointed at her.

“There she is.”

“There who is?”

“The judgmental rich girl.”

A laugh escaped Caitlyn before she could stop it.

The sound caught Vi completely off guard.

For a second, she forgot what she’d been about to say.

Which was embarrassing.

Because it was just Caitlyn.

Just her roommate.

Just the girl whose smile she had started looking for every time she walked into the room.

————————————————–—

The dorm hosted a party a few weeks later.

Vi wasn’t particularly interested until she spotted Caitlyn standing awkwardly near the snack table.

Some guy was talking at her.

Not talking to her.

At her.

There was a difference.

And judging by Caitlyn’s increasingly strained smile, she agreed.

Vi wandered over.

Without thinking too hard about it, she slung an arm around Caitlyn’s shoulders.

“Hey, Cupcake.”

Caitlyn looked up.

The guy immediately backed off.

Vi felt an unreasonable amount of satisfaction.

“Cupcake?” Caitlyn asked once they were alone.

“It fits.”

“It absolutely does not.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It really does.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

The smile she was trying to hide ruined the effect.

————————————————–—

They ended up escaping to the stairwell.

The music thumped faintly through the walls while they shared a bag of chips and a couple stolen sodas.

“You know,” Caitlyn said eventually, “when I first met you, I thought you were going to hate me.”

Vi laughed.

“I kinda did.”

“Charming.”

“I’m serious.”

Caitlyn nudged her shoulder.

“And now?”

Vi looked at her.

At the soft curve of her smile.

At the way the fluorescent lights caught in her dark hair.

At the familiar warmth that settled in her chest whenever Caitlyn was near.

And suddenly the answer felt a little dangerous.

“Now,” Vi said, “I think you’re alright.”

Caitlyn smiled.

A real one this time.

Bright enough to make Vi’s stomach flip.

Which seemed unfair, honestly.

Because Caitlyn had no business looking at her like that.

And Vi definitely had no business wanting her to.

But neither of them looked away.

Not for a very long time.

---------------------------------------------------

Vi knew who Caitlyn Kiramman was before she ever met her.

That was hard to avoid when the Kiramman name was plastered across half the campus.

Kiramman Hall.

Kiramman Research Center.

Kiramman Scholarship Foundation.

By the time Vi finally found her dorm building, she’d passed enough signs to wonder if the family secretly owned the university.

Which was exactly why she wasn’t thrilled when she checked her housing assignment and found herself paired with one of them.

Her flip phone buzzed as she hauled her duffel bag up the stairs.

Powder: don’t punch ur roommate

Vi snorted.

Vi: no promises

Room 312 sat at the end of the hallway.

The door was already cracked open.

Vi pushed it wider with her shoulder and stepped inside.

The first thing she noticed was that somebody had already unpacked.

The second thing she noticed was that her roommate was ridiculously attractive.

Tall. Dark-haired. Well-dressed.

Annoyingly well-dressed for move-in day.

Caitlyn Kiramman looked up from the closet and froze.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Caitlyn straightened.

“You must be Vi.”

Vi dropped her duffel onto the empty bed.

“You must be rich.”

A beat of silence.

Then Caitlyn blinked.

“…Good afternoon to you too.”

Vi couldn’t help laughing.

At least the rich girl had a sense of humor.

“I took the left side,” Caitlyn continued. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Sure.”

Vi flopped onto the mattress.

The springs immediately groaned in protest.

“Luxury accommodations.”

“I think that’s sarcasm.”

“You think?”

The corner of Caitlyn’s mouth twitched.

Interesting.

Maybe she wasn’t as uptight as she’d looked.

Vi dug through her bag until she found her CD player and slid in a burned mix.

A few seconds later, Green Day filled the room.

Not loud enough to start a fight.

Just loud enough to make a statement.

Behind her, Caitlyn continued unpacking.

Vi watched her for a moment.

Who brought a blazer to college move-in?

Who ironed their clothes before classes even started?

Who looked that put together standing in a dorm room with peeling paint and suspicious carpet?

Unfortunately, all three answers appeared to be Caitlyn Kiramman.

Caitlyn glanced over her shoulder.

“Are you staring at me?”

Vi immediately looked away.

“No.”

“You were.”

“I was judging your wardrobe.”

“Hm.”

“Hm what?”

“Nothing.”

The fact that Caitlyn was clearly trying not to smile was irritating.

The fact that Vi noticed was worse.

————————————————–—

Living together turned out to be surprisingly easy.

Not because they had anything in common.

They absolutely didn’t.

Vi left clothes wherever they landed.

Caitlyn folded everything.

Vi survived on vending machine snacks and cafeteria pizza.

Caitlyn somehow remembered to buy actual groceries.

Vi listened to Green Day.

Caitlyn studied.

Vi listened to My Chemical Romance.

Caitlyn studied.

Vi listened to The Killers.

Caitlyn still studied.

“Do you ever do anything besides read?” Vi asked one night.

Without looking up from her textbook, Caitlyn replied, “Do you ever do anything besides make noise?”

“Sometimes I box.”

“That still falls under making noise.”

Vi laughed.

Caitlyn tried not to.

Tried and failed.

By October, they were spending most evenings together without really planning to.

Sometimes Vi would sprawl across her bed after practice while Caitlyn worked at her desk.

Sometimes Caitlyn would read sections of her essays out loud just to hear Vi complain about them.

Somewhere along the way, sharing a room stopped feeling strange.

It started feeling normal.

Dangerously normal.

————————————————–—

One evening, Vi stumbled back from boxing practice exhausted.

Her shoulder hurt.

Her ribs hurt.

She wanted a shower and ten hours of sleep.

Instead she opened the door and found Caitlyn buried beneath a mountain of textbooks.

Color-coded notes covered nearly every available surface.

Vi stopped in the doorway.

“What kind of serial killer organization system is this?”

Caitlyn looked up.

“It’s called studying.”

“No, it’s called being frighteningly prepared.”

“It works.”

Vi dropped into her chair with a groan.

“You know, normal people just panic the night before.”

“Maybe that’s why your grades are concerning.”

Vi pointed at her.

“There she is.”

“There who is?”

“The judgmental rich girl.”

A laugh escaped Caitlyn before she could stop it.

The sound caught Vi completely off guard.

For a second, she forgot what she’d been about to say.

Which was embarrassing.

Because it was just Caitlyn.

Just her roommate.

Just the girl whose smile she had started looking for every time she walked into the room.

————————————————–—

The dorm hosted a party a few weeks later.

Vi wasn’t particularly interested until she spotted Caitlyn standing awkwardly near the snack table.

Some guy was talking at her.

Not talking to her.

At her.

There was a difference.

And judging by Caitlyn’s increasingly strained smile, she agreed.

Vi wandered over.

Without thinking too hard about it, she slung an arm around Caitlyn’s shoulders.

“Hey, Cupcake.”

Caitlyn looked up.

The guy immediately backed off.

Vi felt an unreasonable amount of satisfaction.

“Cupcake?” Caitlyn asked once they were alone.

“It fits.”

“It absolutely does not.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It really does.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

The smile she was trying to hide ruined the effect.

————————————————–—

They ended up escaping to the stairwell.

The music thumped faintly through the walls while they shared a bag of chips and a couple stolen sodas.

“You know,” Caitlyn said eventually, “when I first met you, I thought you were going to hate me.”

Vi laughed.

“I kinda did.”

“Charming.”

“I’m serious.”

Caitlyn nudged her shoulder.

“And now?”

Vi looked at her.

At the soft curve of her smile.

At the way the fluorescent lights caught in her dark hair.

At the familiar warmth that settled in her chest whenever Caitlyn was near.

And suddenly the answer felt a little dangerous.

“Now,” Vi said, “I think you’re alright.”

Caitlyn smiled.

A real one this time.

Bright enough to make Vi’s stomach flip.

Which seemed unfair, honestly.

Because Caitlyn had no business looking at her like that.

And Vi definitely had no business wanting her to.

But neither of them looked away.

Not for a very long time.

---------------------------------------------------

Queerfic June #18

What We Never Said

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: F/F romance, mutual pining, friends-to-lovers, romantic feelings, hand-holding, and emotional intimacy.

Ship: Annabeth Chase x Piper McClean

Fluff

---------------------------------------------------

The waves rolled onto the beach in a steady rhythm, silver under the moonlight. For once, Camp Half-Blood was quiet. No monsters lurking in the woods. No prophecy hanging over anyone’s head. Just the distant sound of campers laughing around the cabins and the familiar crash of the sea.

Piper sat on a piece of driftwood near the water’s edge, absentmindedly braiding and unbraiding a strand of her hair. She’d come down to the beach to clear her head, but it wasn’t working very well.

Some thoughts refused to stay organized.

Footsteps approached across the sand.

Piper glanced up and found Annabeth heading toward her. Her blonde hair had escaped its usual ponytail, loose curls shifting in the ocean breeze. She wore an old Camp Half-Blood shirt and a pair of worn shorts, looking more relaxed than Piper had seen her in months.

“Hey,” Annabeth said, dropping down beside her.

“Hey.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, though. It rarely was between them.

Annabeth nudged Piper’s shoulder with her own. “You disappeared after dinner.”

Piper smiled faintly. “Maybe I wanted a break from everyone.”

“Fair.”

The ocean stretched endlessly in front of them, moonlight dancing across the water. Piper tried to focus on that instead of the fact that Annabeth was sitting so close she could feel the warmth radiating from her shoulder.

It wasn’t exactly a new problem.

Over the years, Piper had learned a lot about Annabeth Chase. She knew how determined she was, how fiercely loyal she could be, how she always seemed to have a plan when everyone else was panicking.

What Piper hadn’t figured out was what to do about the way her heart sped up whenever Annabeth smiled at her.

“You’ve got that look again,” Annabeth said.

Piper groaned. “What look?”

“The one where you’re thinking too hard.”

“I always think too hard.”

Annabeth laughed softly. “Fair point.”

The sound made Piper’s chest tighten.

Before she could stop herself, she said, “Can I ask you something?”

Annabeth turned toward her immediately. “Anything.”

The sincerity in her voice made Piper’s pulse jump.

She stared out at the water for another second before finally speaking.

“Have you ever felt like there was something you should’ve said a long time ago, but you kept putting it off because you were afraid you’d ruin everything?”

Annabeth was quiet.

When Piper finally looked over, Annabeth was already watching her.

“Yeah,” she admitted softly. “I have.”

Something in her expression made Piper’s stomach flip.

“Oh.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Annabeth’s mouth.

“Oh,” she echoed.

For the first time all evening, neither of them looked away.

The realization settled between them slowly, like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place.

Piper let out a nervous laugh. “We’re really bad at this.”

“Considering we’re supposed to be heroes?” Annabeth said. “Yeah. Kind of embarrassing.”

That earned a genuine laugh from Piper.

The tension eased, but it didn’t disappear.

If anything, it felt warmer now.

Closer.

Annabeth shifted slightly, her hand brushing against Piper’s in the sand.

Neither of them moved away.

“Piper,” Annabeth said quietly.

The way she said her name made Piper’s heart skip.

“Yeah?”

Annabeth took a breath.

“I think I’ve been trying not to think about this for a while.”

Piper’s smile softened.

“Me too.”

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then Annabeth reached for her hand.

The gesture was simple, but it felt bigger than any grand declaration.

Piper squeezed her hand back.

The smile Annabeth gave her then was small and a little nervous, which somehow made Piper like it even more.

The ocean continued to roll onto the shore around them.

For the first time in a long while, everything felt easy.

No quests. No expectations. No end-of-the-world emergencies.

Just two girls sitting together beneath the stars, finally being honest with each other.

And for now, that was enough.

---------------------------------------------------

Queerfic June #17

Every Version Of You

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: Gender dysphoria, references to misgendering and parental rejection, transgender themes, physical affection, and M/M content.

Ship: Remus Lupin x Regulus Black

Fluff/Slight Angst

---------------------------------------------------

The moon hung low and silver over the little cottage they’d claimed as their own, far enough from everything that the war felt like someone else’s nightmare. Regulus sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, fingers tracing the worn fabric of his binder. It had been a long day—too many mirrors, too many letters addressed to the wrong name, too many ghosts of expectations that still clung like smoke.

He didn’t hear Remus come in until the mattress dipped behind him. Warm arms slid around his waist, careful, always so careful.

“Bad night?” Remus murmured against the nape of his neck. His voice was rough from the full moon only a few days past, but gentle in the way only Remus could manage.

Regulus exhaled shakily. “Just… remembering. Mother’s voice in my head sometimes. The way she used to look at me like I was a mistake wearing the wrong skin.” He pressed a hand to his chest, where the binder sat tight and familiar now, a small armor he’d fought hard to claim. “Some days it’s easier. Today wasn’t one of them.”

Remus’s hand covered his, lacing their fingers together. “You’re not wearing the wrong skin, love. You’re exactly who you were always meant to be. Regulus. My Regulus.” He pressed a slow kiss just below Regulus’s ear. “The man I fell in love with. The man who survived hell and chose himself anyway.”

Regulus turned in his arms, searching Remus’s face. Those warm amber eyes held no doubt, no hesitation—only the steady, lunar pull that had drawn Regulus in from the very first stolen conversation in the library years ago.

“I still catch myself waiting for someone to laugh,” Regulus admitted quietly. “Like the world’s going to point and say it was all a phase.”

Remus cupped his jaw, thumb brushing over the faint stubble Regulus had been so proud to see finally coming in. “Let them point. I’ll be right here, holding your hand, calling you by the name you chose, loving every inch of the person you are. The binder, the scars when you’re ready for them, the way your voice cracks when you’re passionate about something ridiculous like ancient runes. All of it.”

A small, wet laugh escaped Regulus. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because for me, it is,” Remus said softly. “I love you. Not the version they tried to force on you. You. The real one. The one who hexes me when I steal the blankets and makes the best terrible tea in Britain.”

Regulus closed his eyes, letting the words settle like moonlight on water—cool, soothing, inevitable. He climbed properly into Remus’s lap, arms wrapping around his neck, face buried in the familiar scent of wool and chocolate and wolf.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For seeing me.”

Remus’s arms tightened around him, one hand stroking slow circles between his shoulder blades. “Always. Every night the moon is full, every night it’s new. I see you, Reg. I’ve got you.”

They stayed like that for a long time, breathing together. Outside, the moon kept watch. Inside, Regulus let himself be held—fully, truly, as the man he was. No corrections. No masks. Just Remus’s steady heartbeat under his ear and the quiet promise that he was home.

When Regulus finally pulled back, there was a small, real smile on his face. “Stay with me tonight?”

“Always,” Remus answered, kissing him soft and sure. “The moon and I both chose you, love. We’re not going anywhere.”

---------------------------------------------------

Well, thats Moonwater! I hope you liked it! This one was a little emotional, but still good, right? Please tell us what you think in the comments! We love yall!

Queerfic June #16

Undercity Exploration

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: References to disability, poverty, industrial decay, and romantic subtext.

Ship: Jayce Talis x Viktor

Fluff

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The Undercity pulsed like a living thing, all flickering chem-lights and distant machinery growls. Jayce adjusted the strap of his gauntlet, the heavy hextech armor feeling almost too bright against the grimy alleys of Zaun.

“You sure this is the right way, Vik?” he asked, eyeing the twisting passage ahead. “Feels like we’re walking straight into a chem-baron’s trap.”

Viktor leaned on his cane as he moved through the smog. The faint golden glow of his augmentations cut through the haze, casting shifting patterns across the damp walls.

“No,” he said simply.

Jayce blinked.

“No?”

Viktor glanced back, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “But uncertainty has never stopped you before.”

A reluctant laugh escaped Jayce.

“Fair.”

They continued deeper into the Undercity. The air grew thicker, carrying the scent of chemicals and rust. Overhead, old pipes rattled and hissed, and distant machinery echoed through the labyrinth of metal and stone.

Jayce stayed close.

Partly because the alleys narrowed with every turn.

Partly because this was Viktor’s world in a way it would never be his.

Viktor noticed, of course.

“You are unusually quiet.”

“Just paying attention.”

“To our surroundings?”

Jayce looked at him.

“To you.”

For a brief moment, Viktor seemed caught off guard. Then he looked away, adjusting his grip on his cane.

“An inefficient use of your attention.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

The reply came easily, almost automatically.

Viktor didn’t answer.

But Jayce caught the faintest hint of a smile.

The deeper they went, the older the structures became. Crumbling brickwork disappeared beneath decades of repairs and modifications. Strange glowing markings lingered on walls where forgotten experiments had once taken place.

Eventually Viktor stopped before a half-collapsed doorway.

For a moment, he simply stared.

The workshop beyond had long since fallen into ruin. Shattered glass crunched beneath their boots. Rusted equipment sat untouched beneath layers of dust. Broken blueprints and scraps of metal littered the floor.

The ghost of another life.

Jayce remained silent.

He recognized that look.

The same expression Viktor wore whenever he spoke about progress. About sacrifice. About dreams that began long before Piltover knew his name.

“This is it?” Jayce asked quietly.

Viktor nodded.

“I spent more time here than I did at home.”

His voice carried no bitterness.

Just memory.

He stepped forward carefully, scanning the debris.

Jayce followed.

“Any idea what we’re looking for?”

“No.”

Jayce sighed dramatically.

“Again with the confidence.”

This time Viktor laughed.

A real laugh.

The sound echoed softly through the abandoned workshop, and something in Jayce’s chest eased at hearing it.

They searched together.

Viktor sifted through scattered notes and damaged machinery while Jayce kept an eye on the surrounding corridors. Every so often, their shoulders brushed as they crossed paths.

Neither moved away.

At last, Viktor crouched beside a collapsed workbench.

“There.”

Carefully, he lifted a dust-covered crystal from beneath a sheet of rusted metal.

Despite the years, it still glimmered faintly.

Jayce approached.

“Worth the trip?”

Viktor turned the crystal over in his hand.

“Perhaps.”

His gaze drifted around the room.

“To anyone else, this place would look like junk.”

“Anyone else didn’t build the future.”

Viktor looked up.

The statement was simple. Matter-of-fact.

Yet it settled heavily between them.

Jayce had always done that.

Believed in him before anyone else did.

Sometimes even before Viktor believed in himself.

“You give me too much credit,” Viktor said softly.

“No.”

Jayce stepped closer.

“Not enough.”

For a long moment, neither spoke.

The distant hum of Zaun filled the silence.

Finally Viktor shook his head, though there was no real disagreement in the gesture.

“Come on,” he said. “Before the lift stops running entirely.”

The journey back was slower.

Not because of danger.

Because neither seemed particularly eager to break the quiet.

By the time the lift carried them toward the surface, Piltover’s lights were visible through the haze above.

Jayce leaned against the railing.

“You know, for someone who claimed this was a terrible idea, you seem pretty satisfied.”

Viktor considered that.

“I found what I came for.”

“Just the crystal?”

A knowing look passed between them.

Viktor’s expression softened.

“More than that.”

The lift continued upward.

For once, neither of them felt the need to say anything else.

Some things had never required words.

---------------------------------------------------