#for now i’ll clear our my inbox

[sn0wgr4ve]

* i wonder what happened to cakekid. i hope they’re okay wherever they are

[rashomonss]

I couldn't stop thinking about this after reading your "Readjusting" hc

Imagine that the reason MC started acting like a "proper" attendant was because Barbatos couldn't stand how improper and casual Mc was with the brothers. He decides to take her under his wing but he isn't gentle about it, not even when it becomes clear that MC is human, on the contraire, he becomes harsher with his methods until even the brothers notice. Meanwhile MC could be in the state of mind to believe that they deserve to be treated in such ways because they feel guilty over letting everyone assume they were a demon

Also think about how this treatment would affect MC relationship with Barbatos. Imagine MC slipping up in front of him and immediately tensing and starting to apologize. How scared MC would be of even the thought of doing something NB!Barbatos though them was wrong and undignified of her to do/say as the brothers attendant.

And how heartbroken OM!Barbatos would be at seeing MC be so terrified of him.

so I’m currently deep diving thru my drafts and inbox and this was from forever ago so I’m so sorry I’m only getting it done now (,,Ծ‸Ծ,, )

anyway oh. my. god.

i absolutely love this idea! the angst potential this ask has is literally to die for. i’ll be incorporating a few of my readjusting ideas as well and yeah i know nightbringer didn’t go in this direction but im going in it anyway, so i hope yall enjoy! (๑>؂•̀๑)

you’re nothing more and nothing less

You admired yourself in the mirror then stared at the reflection looking back at you. 

Sighing you gave yourself a small smile, then remembered his words before giving yourself one last look in the mirror. 

“You really do look decent when you know how to clean up.” 

An attendant is supposed to look sharp, and presentable no matter the circumstance. They are a direct representation of who they’re serving. How was a noble demon supposed to take the seven rulers of hell seriously if their attendant didn’t even know how to properly dress or present themselves? 

Your tie had to be perfectly crisp and presentable, same with the cuffs of your uniform; not a wrinkle should be present. Next, your preferred uniform bottom was ironed with no wrinkle in sight, and your shoes shined to the point you could see your reflection. Each plead and fold was sharp, crisp, and perfect.

Your hair looked presentable and you carried out your normal face routine making sure you looked awake and ready for the day. Finally, you organized your belongings and sat them by your table in a neat fashion ready to be grabbed once you headed off to RAD. 

You then made your way to the kitchen and prepared breakfast for everyone as well as coffee and tea for those who usually required it. 

As you were finishing up most of the food Beel walked into the kitchen heading straight for the fridge. “Morning MC,” he said catching his breath. 

“Good Morning Beel, how was your run? Also, your snack is on the counter so please refrain from eating anything in the fridge,” you replied, as you continued cooking. 

“Oh thank you.” he smiled while closing the fridge. As he sat at the counter watching you cook he couldn’t help but become confused at the sight. “Wasn’t it Levi’s turn to make breakfast this morning?” 

“It was but he stayed up late last night, and I had a feeling he would oversleep so I took the liberty of making it myself. Not to worry though because I have nothing against cooking for all of you” 

Beel frowned in response “Yeah but this is the third day in a row you’ve prepared breakfast and dinner” 

“Is it now? Well I have no problems with it unless the rest of you do, I am your attendant after all.”

Beel stopped eating and frowned again, “MC you’re an exchange student from the human realm. You’re back home; there’s no reason for you to still act as our attendant.”

You didn’t respond, instead you finished up the food and began to plate each brothers breakfast. Beel tried to speak again but you cut him off.

“Apologies but could you do me a favor and wake up your brothers for breakfast? I wouldn’t want them to be late for classes.”

Beel gave you a sympathetic look and nodded just before leaving the kitchen.

You did stop to think about his words though. After all everything that happened in the past didn’t need to be continued in the present, you could go back to living how you normally did before.

The only problem was that you didn’t know how to go back to that carefree lifestyle. After being on edge constantly while being stuck in the past you found yourself adapting to that lifestyle. So breaking it all of a sudden was much harder than everyone understood.

Humans are adaptable creatures, they adapt and survive to whatever environment they are thrown into, no matter the circumstances; at least that’s how he explained it.

He drilled it into your head that if you wanted to survive against the best of the best you needed to be superior in every way. It didn’t matter to him if you were a demon or human, neither was an acceptable excuse for not being absolutely perfect.

This mindset had been engraved into your soul during the small time period you were there, so for everyone to just tell you to forget about it was something you couldn’t do even if you tried. They all needed to accept that this was how you were now; and maybe with due time you’ll revert back to your old self.

Numerous voices could be heard in the dining room causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You sighed and then took a deep breath before walking into the room with everyone’s plates.

“Good morning everyone, how’s are all of you?” You asked placing plates in front of each brother at the table.

“Mornin’ MC, I’m fine how are ya?” Mammon said yawning.

“I’m good thank you for asking, but I would be even better if you fixed your tie and shirt” you smiled, placing his food in front of him.

“Dah you sound like Lucifer…” he groaned. It did work however because he buttoned up his shirt and tightened his tie before eating, to which you smiled at him in response.

“That goes for all of you as well, fix your uniforms please.” you said, placing the last plate in Lucifer’s spot. Each groaned and fixed themselves as well before they began to eat.

A laugh was then heard from the doorway which made you look up in response. The oldest then greeted you with a kiss to the cheek before sitting down.

“I see your keeping them on a tighter leash than I am.” Lucifer said looked up at you.

“Well of course. How is anyone supposed to take the seven of you seriously when you don’t even wear the uniform properly.” The room fell silent and Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Thank you MC, but you realize that you don’t have to worry about our images anymore. You know your home correct..? You don’t have to continue being our attendant.”

You sighed then spoke after a few minutes. “Thank you for your concern I appreciate it, but if you’ll excuse me I have to get the dishes clean”

“Wait you’re not having breakfast with us dear?” Asmo asked worried.

“You haven’t eaten with us at all since you came back. Come on MC, please?” Satan then said.

“I appreciate the concern but I already ate. Thank you for the offer though, I do appreciate it. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“As their attendant you should not be eating with them unless permitted on a special occasion. It’s basic etiquette as a servant to eat in the kitchen. So you will eat when I eat. Understand?”

That phrase popped in you head again and you sighed heading towards the kitchen.

. . .

The walk to RAD was normal, for you at least, the brothers were a different story entirely.

They tried engaging with you or even walking next to you but you stayed silent and walked behind them.

Normally you’d walk at the same pace and would engage in any kind of small talk but ever since you returned walks to a from RAD had been awkward for the brothers.

Barbatos never walked next to Diavolo, and he taught you to do the same with the brothers.

“You aren’t from the same status, so you should take your place behind them as a result.”

That phrase played in your head as Mammon talked to you about his latest new scheme. You realized that he was walking at the same pace you were so you slowed down ever so slight and engaged in a bit of small talk with him.

The second born frowned as he saw you retreating again, so with a sigh he finished talking and walked a bit faster to catch up with the eldest.

You could see them shorting you glances and whispering to each other but neither said a word to you.

You understood they probably weren’t a fan of this behavior either, but it’s not as if you could break it anytime soon, after all what would he think if you were acting casual with everyone again?

. . .

“Good morning MC” Barbatos spoke, smiling as he slightly waved at you.

Upon seeing him your posture straightened up and you immediately greeted him back with a wave and a nod, in the same fashion he greeted you with. You held eye contact for a brief moment then looked over towards Lucifer.

“I believe we should head out now. There’s paperwork to be done. It was lovely running into you but we’ll be on our way now” you said to the butler.

Before he even had a chance to respond you grabbed Lucifer and dragged him through the hall leaving a confused Barbatos alone in the hallway.

Lucifer tried to question you about your behavior towards the butler but you always avoided talking about it.

Diavolo tried his hand as well and you had given him the same excuse you gave Lucifer. Sighing, the two decided to talk to you over tea instead, hoping that it might calm the mood.

So you followed Lucifer into the council room where Diavolo sat, waiting with a smile. The minute you saw him you smiled back, but soon tensed when Barbatos appeared behind him.

“Sit down MC” Diavolo gestured as soon as you reached the table.

You bowed slightly and did as you were told, making sure to keep yourself in line while Barbatos was present.

Barbatos from the past despised when you were casual with Lord Diavolo and shut down your relationship with him the second he took you as an apprentice.

As Diavolo began to speak you listened attentively and sat up straight making sure to hold eye contact just as Barbatos had instructed you to do before

“MC…” he started. “I understand that it's taken you awhile to try and readjust to everything again, and while we don’t want to pester your progress we do want to talk to you about a few things.”

Were you in trouble? Your heart sank to your stomach as you gripped your uniform bottoms under the table.

“What can I help you with then?” You asked.

“Well for starters you needn’t be so tense, we’re close after all! It’s okay to let loose around us” Diavolo smiled as he gestured towards Lucifer who nodded in response.

“I thank you for your concern, and I will try to relax as you asked” you then nodded.

Your formal response tugged at a frown on Diavolo’s face. “Thank you, now then let’s enjoy some tea.” he said, trying to quickly change the subject.

You froze on the spot as Barbatos brought out the cart of tea and a few snacks. Immediately you jumped up and helped him set the table, much to everyone’s surprise.

“MC, you can leave it to me.” Barbatos said after a moment.

“I understand” you nodded yet still continued picking up the tray of snacks and placing plates in front of Lucifer and Diavolo.

After you finished you stepped behind Barbatos, almost as if you were his shadow. With a sigh he turned to you and tried to ask you to sit back down but you refused.

So instead he tried to guide you to your seat and you stepped away from him in response, the further you took a step back the closer he took a step forward. It wasn’t until you hit the snack cart had you realized how close the two of you were.

However that was short lived as the dish holding the sugar fell off the cart and shattered on the floor the moment you hit it.

Your eyes went wide in horror and you fell to the floor to clean it up in an instant, muttering to yourself silently.

“MC, are you-“

“I’m so sorry, Lord Diavolo, I'll clean this up right away. Please forgive me” you said swiftly picking up the shattered glass and trying your best to clean everything.

“It’s okay, don’t worry it was an accident” Diavolo said as he got up to make sure you were okay.

You shook your head as you went back to cleaning. You were positive Barbatos was going to kill you, he made sure to let you know if you ever messed up in Lord Diavolo’s presence.

So when his figure loomed over you your body tensed with fear as you looked up at him. However his expression didn’t match what you assumed it would’ve been.

He looked concerned and bent down to inspect your hands, hoping there wasn’t any blood due to the shards of glass from the dish.

You immediately retracted your hand when you noticed a cut and Barbatos stiffened.

“I’ll clean this up right away, excuse me” you said as you jumped to your feet and ran out of the council room, leaving three very confused and concerned demons behind.

As the door flew open when you left Solomon walked in with a bewildered look as you rushed out. “What happened? Is everything okay?” He asked as his eyes followed your figure rushing down the hall.

“It’s MC,” Lucifer sighed.

“What about them?” Solomon questioned.

“Long story short they were helping Barbatos and dropped the sugar then bolted out of the room in a panic when Barbatos grabbed their hand to see if they were okay.” Diavolo said with a sigh.

“Ah, that explains things then.” Solomon nodded. “And Barbatos I would refrain from touching or even being near MC for the time being”

“And why is that?” Barbatos questioned with a frown.

“Because MC is probably still on edge after serving alongside you in the past. Let’s just say your methods weren’t exactly…ideal, for a human.” He sighed.

His heart broke upon hearing those words. Barbatos frowned upon learning he was the reason for their rigid behavior and unwillingness to open up to him or Lord Diavolo again.

“I understand,” he sighed.

“If we just talk to MC I’m sure they’ll understand-“ Diavolo started.

“You can, but they haven’t changed their behavior with the brothers so I doubt they change it now. I’ll talk to them when I see them again” Solomon sighed.

Lucifer made a sour expression upon hearing Solomon’s words, mainly because he knew they were true. After all he had spoken to MC countless times yet nothing has changed.

Solomon handed a few papers to Diavolo who read over them in surprise. “Cocytus Hall? That place hasn’t been used in ages, and you wish to move in there?”

“Yes, well Mc and I.” He nodded. “All the paperwork should be there if you’ll allow it”

Lucifer shot the sorcerer a glare and shook his head. “Is that really necessary? That’s quite the opposite of having MC adapt back to the present”

“On the contrary I didn’t suggest this. They did, and if it's what they want I don’t mind indulging my sweet apprentice” He smiled.

The three frowned at Solomon’s words. No matter how annoyed he made them, they all agreed that he was the only one you talked to like normal.

It wasn’t fair that he was the only one that got that attention from you. After a few more minutes of going back and forth Diavolo finally approved the idea, much to Lucifer’s protests.

It was just a thought but Diavolo hoped that if he did this you would eventually come back to them, and not the you that was terrified and uptight, he missed the carefree human who could brighten up the room.

With a sigh the room fell silent as Solomon left, all three demons were running out of ideas and the longer you avoided them the more painful it had become.

How long were they supposed to stay like this? They all wondered with tense sighs.

[hazelfoureyes]

why smut with an ace character?

This person was a minor so I won’t reply directly. I would love to discuss sexual orientation and the wibbly wobbly nature of attraction and pleasure to someone who I think needs a space to discuss it but as an adult stranger? That’s not my place and I would be wildly uncomfortable doing so directly. But! For anyone who does see my blog and wonders why, I’ll have this set on my master list to save me time

Heheheheh MY TIME HAS COME

closing in on 5 months of being on tumblr and this is my first “BUT ACE!” Comment/inbox

so, why?

✦Alastor is canonically Ace! The aro aspect was mentioned by an important staffer but has been left off as a descriptor by Viv herself and no accepted as canon. She gave her explicit permission to write them as we are comfortable with.

✦Asexuals can and do fuck! 💦 (my source? My ace spec partner!)

✦Alastor’s ace spectrum is often times an important aspect of my stories!

I always have Alastor motivated into sexual situations for non-sexual reasons.

Closeness, intimacy, fulfilling a partner’s needs, a biological imperative, for power, for control, putting someone into a submissive to embarrassing position. It’s to see someone break and bend to his will (with consent).

But lets shift into asexuality now --- how I write him isn't a representation of all ace people! It’s just how I view his place on the spectrum. Being Ace doesn't mean you can't ever want sexual pleasure in any form, it doesn't mean you never think about sex or enjoy seeing it.

Letting people explore the range of being asexual is as important as with any other sexual orientation. If you feel people being non-sex repulsed and being Ace is making your own identification harder to make clear to strangers —- well then I wonder if the label itself is more important to you than the community we all desperately seek and need when we publicly acknowledge our sexuality. We publicly say we’re LGBTQIA+ because these labels are for self identification and signal to like minded people and allies we're here. This is how I love and how I want to be loved. Maybe one day a different word will exist to separate the spectrum but we’re living and working with what we have today and how we find each other now. “Why not call him grey ace?” It’s each individuals decision how they wanna identify!

Full circle. Why do I write SO much smut about an ace character? Of course I think that animated deer man’s personality is hot lmao but also because I love this character and identify with him a lot! Being ace doesn't mean he doesn't ever have sex or ever enjoy physical pleasures! Writing about someone seeking out pleasure for non-sexual reasons is very fun for me as someone who doesn't identify with the romantic aspect of sex many people put on it. Do ace people fuck for romantic reasons? Yes! Absolutely! Being Asexual doesn’t mean you’re Aromantic!

Why not write fluff or QPR? Because I'm aromantic and it's harder for me but I am trying and am getting better at it because I want to write more things that meet the needs and wants of many kinds of people. As for QPR, I'm still learning what those relationships look like and learning how to idenfity them in my own life!

And finally— it’s valid to write him as any form of Ace or even not Ace at all! I prefer to keep him Ace spec but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong to make him not. He’s not real and the creator has given us permission to do so. 👌🏼

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (5)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following the events of PART FOUR, you all begin to pick up the pieces and start to heal.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: kissing, messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing/name calling; arguments; crying; hurt/comfort; angst; miscommunication; jealousy; happy ending; fluff

A/N: We have made it to the final part of our story. I'm honestly sad to see it end! Again, everyone who has commented and reblogged- you are my muse. It was your kind words who kept me motivated. Thank you so much. You all are so amazing. Please, please, please don't hesitate to send me questions or requests- do you want to see more post-story drabbles, more angsty flashbacks, headcannons? Let me know and I will do my best to deliver. My inbox is open for requests.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Because Steve crashed at his parent’s house, he hadn’t been home to see that Eddie never came back last night. Instead, he woke up in his childhood bedroom after a night of tossing and turning. He wanted to call you- he picked up the phone and hung it up so many times last night. He knew you probably wouldn’t appreciate it, so he resolved to wait until morning. He hardly slept. 

With tear stained cheeks, Steve knew he needed to get up and shower. After he was dressed for the day, he sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t want to go home yet. He couldn’t face Eddie. He was so embarrassed and ashamed. 

He needed to take a walk to clear his head. He ended up deciding to get coffee. There was a coffee place he walked to and after that, with 2 coffees and a bag of bagels in hand. He decided to stop by your apartment. You’d have coffee and bagels and talk this out. If you would let him, it would be his do over to make up for last night. 

He walked up to your apartment two steps at a time balancing the coffee tray carefully with both hands to not spill. He lets himself take a moment. He smooths out the front of his jacket. And tousled his hair to look a little more presentable. He hopes you don’t slam the door in his face when he knocks. He stands up straighter when he hears the door unlock.

You open the door, but not all the way. You poke your head out from behind the partially open door. You’re still in your pajamas. A very old t-shirt that Steve has seen you in a million times before and flannel pajama pants- you look your best like this, Steve thinks. His brows furrowed in confusion when you step out onto the porch with a sweatshirt and don’t invite him in. 

“I got you a coffee,” he offers, “a peace offering for last night.”

. I was being an asshole.” 

“Listen, Steve..,” you begin. You cross your arms over your chest and look down at your feet. “I don’t know how to say this… Now isn’t the right time…”

“I’m sorry, I just thought we could talk in person,” he explains, “I just wanted to- you know, apologize in person.” 

“I get it.”

“I- I just, look,” he says gathering his thoughts, “I didn’t handle any of this right- at all. I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for taking this long to realize my feelings, but…”

“Steve. Stop- listen,” you say anxiously, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Before you go on, I need to tell you…”

“What is it?”

“Eddie stayed over last night.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Oh…”

“Steve-”

“He’s still here, isn’t he?” Steve finally catches on. You hang your head, unable to look him in the eye. He blinks back the threat of tears. “Okay, um,” he clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, get out of here.”

“Steve- wait…”

“No, no it’s okay, really,” he tries to insist, trying his best to not break his cool. “Uh, anyways- take the coffee and stuff, anyways… I gotta go anyway.” 

He’s down the stairs and down the block before you can stop him. You slip back inside. You leave the coffee and the paper bag on the table. You couldn’t touch them. You take a seat at the kitchen table, staring at them. Eddie was still asleep, easily slept through Steve’s knocking. It’s a few minutes of solitude, just lost in thought, before the front door opens with a whoosh. 

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Robin marvels, kicking off her shoes. She hangs up her jacket, she’s wearing her same clothes as yesterday. You offer her a knowing smile. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “You just missed Steve.”

“What does that mean?” she asked hesitantly. “Did you and Steve-”

“Nope,” you say, realizing now what that sounded like. You shake your head- you have so much to fill her in on. “Eddie’s here- and Steve showed up with coffee and bagel for me.” 

“Wait. Wait. Wait,” she hurries over and takes the seat across from you- taking one of the coffees. “You slept with Eddie?”

“Eddie and I went to Lover’s Lake after the game-”

“Ew! Did you do it in the van?” Robin gasps. 

“No!” You say embarrassed, “We were just there, and Steve followed us. He started banging on the side of the van and scared the shit out of me.”

“What did he say?”

“Get your fucking hands off my girl.” You watch Robin’s jaw drop. 

“No, he didn’t!”

“He did! And he called me ‘baby.’” 

“What happened after that?”

“Well, Eddie drove me home and I invited him to stay. It wasn’t like that at first. I just- you weren’t home and I didn’t want to be alone so I asked him to stay with me.” 

“Sounds like it was that from the beginning,” Robin teases. “And Steve came here this morning to apologize and win you over and you had to tell him you slept with Eddie.”

“Pretty much,” you nod. “He’s still here.”

“Eddie’s still here?”

“Yeah, he’s asleep.” 

“Holy shit, dude.”

“I know!”

“Explains that huge hickey,” she jokes and you swat her arm. “Was he.. Was he good?”

Your eyes widen, “Robin!”

“I don’t know what to ask!” She holds her arms up in surrender. “So are you and Eddie, like together?”

“We didn’t really talk about that yet.” 

“He’s been in love with you since he was like 17,” Robin points out. “You think he’s going to not want to be with you?”

“No- it’s just, it’s all happened so fast. I just don’t want to ruin anything.” 

“I’m gonna call Steve,” Robin says, “I want to check on him.” You nod in agreement. 

“Yeah, that would be good,” you agree. 

The door creaks open when you slip back into your bedroom. In your absence, Eddie has starfished out on his stomach and has taken up the whole mattress. In just his boxers, he snores very softly as the light from the window is starting to beam in through the panels of your blinds. You walk over to the side of the bed, crouching down to be eye level. You gently stir him awake. 

Eddie can’t put into words how incredible a feeling it is that you are the first thing he sees when he wakes up. He smiles lazily with his face squished against the pillows. He reaches out and beckons for you to join him back in bed. He scoots over so you can have space to slide in next to him. The messy bed and the cozy blankets are so inviting, it would be just enough to help you forget about what’s waiting for you outside this little sanctuary. 

“Come on,” he pouts, and you can’t help but concede. He pulls you into him, spooning you. He pulls the blankets over the two of you. You turn to face him, but he keeps his arm slung over your waist. 

“Steve was just here,” you whisper. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned. The news of Steve’s visit wakes him up. You nod. 

“Yes, it was just a hard conversation,” you volunteer. “He knows you stayed here last night.” 

“How’d he take that?” Eddie asks.

“Um, I could tell he felt hurt,” you admit, “he brought me breakfast; wanted to apologize and try it over with me… I told him you were here, and he accepted it. He was clearly upset, but he didn’t take it out on me. He, um, looked devastated. But he just left after I told him.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie asks, sounding shy and suddenly unsure of himself. 

“Of course,” you say encouragingly. 

“What did last night mean? You know, like- where do we stand?” Eddie isn’t sure if he even wants to know the answer. He’s so worried you’re going to reject him- tell him last night was a mistake. He’s bracing himself for the heartache of losing you.

You trace your hand gently over the side of his face, helping move his hair away from his eyes. Is it even still a question? You can’t help but smile. It all makes sense.

“I love you, Eds,” you confess and it feels like the weight of the world lifts off his shoulders. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see that,” you apologize, but he’s too wrapped up, he doesn’t even care. He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and passionate. Everything feels right- finally. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips. 

Your senior year (Eddie’s second), Eddie finally convinced you to sneak out on a Tuesday night and come see Corroded Coffin play at The Hideout. Your parents would kill you if they knew you were at a bar forty-five minutes away past eleven on a school night to see some boy with long hair and tattoos play in his metal band. They wouldn’t care if you insisted he was just a friend.  Thankfully, this is something they will never find out. 

Eddie felt on top of the world that night. He played better than he ever has, because you were there to impress. He could watch you, as you sat comfortable at a table all to yourself, singing along to songs you had no idea where even about you. You cheered and clapped at the end of every song- not caring if you were the only one in the room to acknowledge them. 

“Are you gonna ask her out tonight?” Jeff asks, covering his microphone between songs. 

“I don’t know- maybe. Shut up,” Eddie flushes, petrified you would hear. You hadn’t- you were completely oblivious to the way you made him feel. 

“If you don’t, I will!” Gareth whisper-shouts over his drum set. He laughs when Eddie turns around and flips him off. When he turns back around, you lamely throw him two thumbs up and grin widely. He mouths “Dweeb” to you across the bar and you stick your tongue out at him. 

Eddie did attempt to ask you out that night. Unfortunately, he was so nervous when he did it, you didn’t realize he had meant for it to be a date. He still cringes at how he ended up paying for Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Max to play mini golf and how shocked he was when they ended up tagging along. When he thought it couldn’t have gotten worse, the rest of Hellfire showed up as well. Since when did he have this many friends? He remembered thinking. 

Robin calls Steve a few times before she’s able to get through. She must have caught him right as he was getting home. 

“Yeah?” He sounds irritated. 

“Wow,” she says with a tisk. “Rude much?” She hears him take a breath. 

“I’m sorry, long day,” he mumbles. 

“It’s like 9:30,” Robin muses and he scoffs. 

“So you know?” He asks. 

“I know.” 

“I’m a fucking douchebag!” Steve exclaims, upset with himself still- clearly. “I can’t blame her for wanting nothing to do with me.” 

“You’re her oldest friend, Steve,” Robin points out, “She didn’t say she wanted nothing to do with you. She and everyone else I’m sure just everything to go back to normal.” 

“Normal except she’s with Eddie and I have to be around that everyday.” 

“Like how she was with you, for I don’t know- years! You’re being hypocritical. Don’t you think?” 

“Did she say that she and Eddie are together?”

“Not explicitly,” she says hesitantly, “Come on, Steve. You gotta let it go.” 

Steve flops down onto the couch and groans. He knows he’s being hypocritical- he knows he isn’t being fair. It doesn’t make the pain hurt any less. Something he couldn’t shake tugs at the back of his mind. You didn’t tell him you and Eddie were together, just that he stayed over. That doesn’t mean that you’re necessarily together. He knows he’s fooling himself. It’s so hard to just let it go. 

“The whole thing is way too close to home,” Robin muses, “maybe expand your dating pool to outside your immediate friend group?”

“I just need to actually hear her say it,” Steve says, but in agreement with Robin. “I just won’t be able to let it go until I actually hear it from her that she has no feelings for me.” 

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” Robin points out and he knows she’s right. “You need to figure out yourself. Do you actually love her? Or was it the idea of living her that you got so wrapped up in?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“There’s a difference. Were you actually in love with your best friend, or were you just in love with the idea of having someone you love who knows you like a best friend? Like you’ve known her for so long, and you’ve never thought of her as more than a friend until very recently? It might make sense you were wrapped up in the idea of it all- than actually falling in love with her. Does that make sense?” She takes a long pause. “The romanticism of it all, being wrapped up in that- you know?”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “It would’ve been really great.” 

“It would’ve,” Robin agrees. “But it wasn’t meant to be.” 

“No?” 

“No.” 

When Eddie gets back to the apartment later, he doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know if  Steve will take a swing at him, if he’ll yell, or if he will even be there. He doesn’t know what to anticipate Steve’s reaction to be. 

Surprised, Steve is sitting in their living room… calm. He looks solemn. He’s sitting on the same chair he sat the day of the huge fight. He’s staring at the spot where Nancy sat, and then his eyes move over to where you were. Eddie clears his throat to make himself known. Steve looks up like he’s been snapped out of a trance. 

“I’m sorry, man,” Steve says, immediately. “I really fucked that up.” 

“I don’t know- I get it,” Eddie sympathizes. “The whole situation is fucked.” 

“Yeah, totally.” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Steve drags his hands across his face. Eddie can tell he hardly slept. He looks exhausted. “I will get over it, I’m sure. I just need a little time to get my shit together. Get over myself, you know?” He jokes in a self-deprecating manner. Eddie offers a sympathetic smile, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. They both know they’ll be fine in time. 

The next morning, you’re at their apartment door first thing with coffee in hand. 

“Do-over?” You ask with a tilt of your head when Steve opens the door. 

“Do-over,” he offers a half smile, taking one of the to-go cups from your hand. 

“Eddie’s left for work already?” You guess and he nods. You stand in the door frame, face to face in a few long moments of silence.

“I really miss my best friend,” you say finally.

“Do you still even want to be friends after all of this?” Steve asks, stepping aside so you can come in.

“Steve,” you say with a deep breath. “I always want you to be in my life. You are my oldest friend and I hate that everything has blown up the way it has. I know we can’t go back to the way everything was before. We can move past this, together, can’t we?” 

“I really missed you too,” he admits. “I talked to Robin- I think she was right about a lot of things. You and Eddie- you guys are my best friends. I can’t stand in the way of you too. I think like how I was so hung up on Nancy- I was idealizing her; remembering just the good parts. I know I would’ve been so happy to end up with you. But I think I was more in love with an idea.”

“I get that. I think I’m guilty of that myself,” you chuckle, thinking back to the many years you held Steve up on a pedestal. He smiles back at you- a wide, all encompassing Steve Harrington smile. You had him back. “So, we’re going to be okay?” you ask, a smile creeping onto your lips. 

“We’re okay,” he reaffirms. 

A few months later, following the truce with Steve, everyone is piled into Steve and Eddie’s living room. A movie is playing you’ve all long since forgotten about. Nancy and Jonathan sit in the love seat, his arm around her as they watch amused as Steve and Robin argue- both of them standing on opposite ends of the coffee table as they debate the logistics of whether or not it’s pronounced “Duh-MEE” or “Dem-EE” Moore. Neither one of them plans to back down anytime soon. 

Vicky watches from her seat in the recliner like a tennis match, her eyes bouncing between her girlfriend and Steve- enough to give herself whiplash. This was not how she expected her first movie night with Robin’s friends to go- but what else would she expect besides utter chaos. 

“I thought something was gonna be catching on fire,” Eddie whispers in your ear. “This is boring,” he says in reference to the movie. 

His arms sit loosely around your waist as you sit on his lap. Your legs lay across his lap, resting your head on his shoulder as you sit together in the chair opposite Vicky. You can’t help but laugh at his commentary. 

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen, hun,” you say with a smile, offering condolences for his disappointment in the movie. 

“You’re a moron if you think it’s Dem-EE,” Robin shouts, losing her patience with each passing second. “Everyone knows it’s Duh-MEE!”

“Robin- I swear to god! It’s Dem-EE- it would be spelled differently if it was Duh-MEE,” Steve argues. 

“It’s French!” Robin yells, exasperated, ready to pull out her hair. She couldn’t believe that he’s still pushing this issue. 

Eddie runs his hand up and down your leg as he tries to act remotely interested in the movie. He knows you like it, so he’s trying his hardest to pay attention despite the distractions- Robin & Steve’s antics sure, but more so, sitting so close to you. He can smell your shampoo and your skin is so smooth when he touches it. It’s hard to not be consumed but the sensation. He squeezes your hip, and kisses your temple. 

Eddie loves the simple touches. It’s the things he thought about for so long. It’s so easy. The things he always wanted to say to you, everything he wanted to do are just habitual now. He can grab your hand and kiss the back whenever he gets the urge. He can tell you he loves you randomly whenever he pleases. He can kiss you- kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could go back and tell himself that he got the girl- that she loves him just as much. Tell him it’s better than he ever imagined it. 

The dust has settled. The worst of it all seems to be behind you all. Steve has a date lined up for tomorrow night and it seems he’s finally been able to let the idea of you go. Maybe, you’ll always be the one that got away, but he knows he’ll find the person he was always meant to be with. He has a really good feeling about the girl he’s seeing tomorrow. 

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik

[kimsmuse]

yandere rich kid !!

not really a kid, just a spoiled brat.

gender neutral!reader, obsessive behaviour, blackmailing, mentions of drunk driving, implications of sex but no real smut TT. if you want to talk about yanderes my inbox is always open <33

i was thinking about mingi of ateez when i wrote it so you can imagine him as the faceclaim (v v optional)

very rough idea but !! yandere nepo kid who is The Wild Kid, he’s his parents' and siblings' worst nightmare, partying like its his last night, hooking up right and left.

just imagine like early 2010s justin bieber but, um, no hate to him, but better.

this guy isn't evil or cruel or anything, he's just numb, and he's doing every possible thing that comes his way to just feel something, anything he can.

drugs? nothing. alcohol? nothing. nothing makes him feel like the people he sees in the movies, he tries talking to so many people, sleeps with them, but he can't feel it.

and it becomes increasingly uncomfortable for him inside his own body, he's aware of the things that are happening, his parents being disappointed, threatening to write him off their will but he can't seem to stop himself.

club after club, every bouncer knows him, the bartenders know his order, accurate down to the T because they know what's going to happen if they don't.

and enter you. okay, okay, this seems wattpad-ish but its not like love at first sight or anything. because when you and your friends sneak in to the vip section, the least of your worries is the nepo guy.

your friends seem to have an instant attraction to him, thanks to his entertainment news headlines. "famous business tycoon's son gone wild!" and what not. who doesn't want their name attached to a guy like that? everybody who doesn't have an ounce of rationality in their brain!

but he had other plans for tonight, he was spiralling, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to sit here normally and pretend his insides weren't burning. why was there no comfort for him?

he dreaded going home and waking up, looking at the clear disappointed looks of his family. he wishes he was different too, he wants to say to them.

the dance floor clears as the night deepens and soon enough your friends have abandoned their idea of getting laid by him, their patience running out as they grab some other people to take home.

you’re trying to get yourself a cab when he brushes past you, looking back briefly to apologise but when he is a bit ahead, he turns back again and offers you a ride, which you politely refuse, “thanks for asking but i’ll get a cab soon enough,”

okay, then he’ll wait with you! he doesn’t have anything better to do and he’d be going against the way his parents raised him (as if he hasn’t done that enough) if he left you out here alone so late.

after about 20 minutes of standing, looking through various taxi apps, you give up and take him up on his offer, and all the while our rich, spoiled yandere is figuring out what he’s feeling, it was out of basic courtesy that he offered you a lift but now that you’re sitting beside him in his car, he feels like he’s breathing in a new kind of air.

and you swear you didn’t mean to, but maybe its your hormones and the disappointment that all your friends got someone they went home with but you didn’t.. so as soon as you’re in the car, you give him The Look. and while normally the guy would just take it to his backseat, something in him stops him. instead he says, “my place isn’t far,” you nod.

when you regain your senses, it’s too late. it’s the next morning. but thankfully, he was the last person to ask you about what you both were after last night, and the last person to want to “see you again,” so you try your best to get dressed as his sleeping form just lies there peacefully. he’s cute, you admit that.

a few days pass by and you’re thankful that this wasn’t like the other times where his photos and the people he was with would be all over social media, so you went on with your life normally, attending classes, studying and all the jazz.

when once out of thr blue, when you’re working the counter at your part-time, he’s there. he gives you a small smile as you become increasingly uncomfortable. “hey,” you greet him awkwardly.

“i wanted to talk to you… about that night,”

and believe it or not but that’s when your entire life changes. the guy who didn’t even know your name was suddenly there asking you for a bit if your time and the manager obviously obliges, is even eager for it, the publicity that it would get the cafè ….

but yeah, as i was saying, he’s going to come up with a “will you date me?” it doesn’t, matter if he doesn’t know your name, he’ll learn, he’ll learn everything about you, he was willing to, didn’t that count? “please, give me a chance, you won’t regret it, i swear.” and you gulp, okay…

and after that, he’s driving you home from work, home from dates he’s taking you out to, and home from even your college which isn’t even a 5 minute walk from your apartment, and although it’s supposed to feel like “dating” you can’t help but feel a little awkward around him, the fact that he was doting on you like no one ever had in your life and seemed to be perfectly fine with whatever you wanted was just a little off putting.

for the yandere, it’s as if he’s been reborn, it’s as if he found a new purpose at life, he’s so overjoyed at the fact that he was looking for a sign and god actually gave it to him. it was you! he felt everything then, he felt heart beating in his chest, he felt the rain on his face, it was everything h ever wanted.

“this is NOT the guy from the headlines, y/n, this is his twin or something,” your friends were collectively shocked.

even the media was. they wrote articles and articles on if this was just a new stunt or has the resident playboy actually settled down? and they were snooping around your life too, and when the guy went to his parents to help stop that, his parents were delighted to hear that their son wasn’t asking for a new car but instead to help protect a person’s privacy?? who was he??

but they helped, obviously. not without a catch though, they hired a private investigatior to spy on you, were you blackmailing their son? who are you? they weren’t opposed to him finding love, they just wanted to make sure he was safe and not being taken advantage of. when you turn up clean and the investigatior lets them know that you aren’t even in a bit of love with him as much he is, his father is scared.

so he hires the same investigator again, it’s safe to say that money the private investigator made on these two tasks was enough to suffice him for the rest of his years.

and his father decides to pay you a visit, “please, this is the first month since he started middle school that i haven’t been spending on people to keep their mouths shut and to not file cases aainst him, you’ve truly changed him,”

you’re a little uncomfortable again, being this person wasn’t someone you wanted to be, jsut be reduced to beng someone who fixed him, he was nice, yes, but you did not want a relationship right now, let alone a serious-committed one.

then the father takes out his trump card, “…i did not want to do this but,”

he knows where your parents live, your siblings’ workplace.

“so, play along, okay?”

and the worst thing is that, you can't even call the police on one of the richest men in your country.

and as if this problem wasn’t enough, it isn’t even been 3 months and your friends have entirely stopped talking to you. why? well, because, you can’t even have a sleepover without that guy calling you every hour, asking if you ate well, are drinking enough water. and you don't blame them, you wouldn't have liekd it if you were in their position as well.

when you try, (keyword, try) to talk to him about it, he gets super sulky… what do you mean you're bothered by being left alone by your friends? you had him… wasn't that enough?

even at your part-time, it was getting uncomfortable, the times he would just sit in the cafè, working (yes, he even agreed to take over his father's company fot you) and while he obviously paid for his drinks, it was just concerning to the people you knew that he was fliterally following you around, that wasn't healthy.

you have an intuition it won't work, but you decide to give it a try anyway. "hey, we need to talk," you text him. and there’s a response in not even seconds, “what’s wrong?”

“just come over,”

you best believe he’s there in not even 10-15 minutes, and he’s panting too. couldn’t even wait for the lift, his precious darling needed him.

“listen.. i,”

“what?”

“i don’t think this is….working out,”

“what?”

“don’t freeak out-“

“freak out? are you kidding? i.. love you, how isn’t this working out?”

“you’re way too controlling,”

“i’m what? do you know how many peole would kill to be in your place, and people who would want their boyfriends to be like me? nd you say i’m ‘too controlling’?”

“it’s…”

“you have no idea how grateful you should be to me,” you’d never seen him so… angry and it was like you could see the comments being true. “he’s so rude, acts so entitled,” being true.

“don’t look at me like that, i tried my best to appeal to you in a way you should have liked,” he hangs his head down.

“now we do things my way,”

kiss your freedom, part-time, college and apartment bye bye, because you won’t need it anyway, you’ll be his spouse, and there’s no bigger qualification than that. you desperately want to work? be his assistant, he’s getting ready to take over the company soon enough. his parents do see it, the things he’s doing but they can’t interefere, at least he’s staying out of the headlines, that’s all that matters.

[lewismcqueen]

written in red. 04

vampire!lh x black!reader

read from beginning | 03 | 05

summary: you return to Hamilton's mansion to explore further. wc: 2k a/n: it's all coming together baby...not gonna give anything away but we are on the cusp of our first reveal. feel free to leave all theories and guesses in the comments or shoot them in my inbox!

Julia promises that you’ll never have to write another music-related article again, and you assume this means that soon you’ll have a bunch of election-related assignments lined up as an apology for making you write about pop stars and not politics. What it actually means is that you’ve now been assigned a series of op-eds on whatever asinine social media conversation has become relevant enough to get the publication a few extra clicks.

“Close enough, right?” she’d said over coffee, a smile playing on her round face that could almost be mistaken for apologetic. Julie pushes back a dark strand of hair. “You’ll get there eventually. Baby steps.”

You practically slam your laptop closed as soon as you hit your word count for the night, the green journal on your desk becoming more of a reprieve rather than a side project. Your hot pink Hello Kitty bookmark (a previous birthday gift from your editor) sticks out from one of the entries you had planned to finish before you had to take a call. The spine cracks a little as you open it to the same page.

“It’s been a few months now of this little disappearing act. I still find myself wanting to ride around the estate once in a while, even though it’s a terrible idea and I’ll surely be spotted. It’s quiet here, but sometimes I still hear the roar of someone’s car or motorbike in the distance and wish for the noise of the paddock. Charles made fun of me when I told him I still felt young enough to race. But I do!

Another thing I have gotten too used to: the cameras. It’s hard to picture life without a camera in my face, and now I find myself looking for them, even when there’s no chance that anyone would recognize me these days. I have never been afraid of being watched until now, when it should be certain that no one is watching at all. It’s been too long, people’s eyes aren’t as sharp and I’m not on TV all the time anymore. Wearing a hood certainly helps. People still come to the mansion, though. I just saw an advert for a ‘tour’. I don’t get the concept, but it seems to make people happy. They won’t find anything particularly special there, but they still come. Cameras and all. 

Sometimes I imagine myself sneaking onto the grounds in the middle of the night. I’d have a thing of gasoline in one hand, match in the other and just…light the whole thing up. The flames would lap up the front door first, then the first floor and upstairs bedroom. They’d travel up and up until they illuminate the whole sky, like one big bonfire. Maybe I’d even bring s’mores. Wouldn’t that be something? 

-LH”

You close the journal, a grin forming on your lips. The man was funny, you had to give him that. Not a ton of information here, but much is implied. For one, Hamilton lived out the rest of his days hiding in plain sight. How a man so recognizable managed such a feat was uncertain. You’d come across pap photos once where they had managed to catch him even in a hoodie and mask, recognizing him by his hands alone. He must’ve done something drastic to his appearance, in that case.

Second, people used to tour the estate once the man had made it clear that no other part of him would be accessible to the public anymore. That was clearly no longer much of a thing, but the weird stalker motorist and Mr. Posh could have been involved in upkeep in the years after.

Your phone vibrates next to you and interrupts your train of thought. It’s an email from your editor, speak of the devil.

Subject: Only cool people can read this Hey girlie! VIII’s team was deeply appreciative of your beautiful concert review. I know you’re tired of the music stuff, but his album will be releasing soon. His management got in touch with me and told me that the artist wants to personally invite you to the listening party! Highly recommend that you go, just to show your face. Details are attached below. Congrats! Best, Julia M.

You shut off your phone with an exasperated sigh. So much for a free weekend.

-

It’s a bright, sunny morning when you arrive at the mansion. You won’t have time to look around in the evening—you’ll be getting ready to schmooze at a listening party instead of investigating.

The cloudless blue sky seems to create space where there isn’t any, making everything feel like it has opened up. It makes the pointed roofs of the place look more majestic than imposing as you pull into the driveway. The plot of grass in the center is overgrown now, various flowering weeds and tall blades billowing in the wind as you make your way up to the entrance.

It smells just as old and damp inside as it did the first time as you walk past the coffee table where you’d found the journal. The stairs still creek beneath your white trainers, but they don’t seem as loud. Like the house is getting used to you. You climb past the first floor and proceed down a narrow hallway. The wallpaper is a deep green color that must have looked vital when it was new, but is now stained and dull beneath a layer of dust. You notice dark, rectangular indents in it that must have been framed photos or paintings. The floor continues to complain under your feet as you make your way to the end of the hall, where one of the doors to a room seems to have been left ajar.

You peak into the gap once you reach it, and gasp quietly. It’s a study. His study. The wallpaper matches that of the hallway, the room small enough to be cozy but not enough to feel cramped. 

The study toes the line between vague organization and complete chaos. One one side of the desk, manila folders are neatly sorted in a half-open file cabinet. A messy stack of papers is thrown into a crushed cardboard box on the other. You run a hand over the ornate wooden chair positioned in front of the desk, tilted away just slightly. You imagine someone rising abruptly, perhaps to storm out of the room. It strikes you how clean the surface of the wood is. There’s no dust. Has someone been in recently?

The desk itself seems to have been cleared of the usual office debris. There are, however, a couple of scattered greeting cards on the upper right corner. A birthday card, and another card for retirement. Not exactly news. There’s a picture frame on the opposite corner facing the arched window behind the desk, and you round the desk to take a look.

A large group of people stand in front of what looks to be a garage, all clothed in a uniform the same shade as your father’s jacket. Team photo. You’d recognize that Ferrari red anywhere. Your dad would be ecstatic to know that Hamilton had remained on the team right up until the end. 

A ray of light bounces off of two pieces of jewelry sitting next to the photo, and your gaze falls on them next. They’re both rings. One is very classic-looking, a red garnet stone encased in gold. It looks like something a mob boss might wear. The second one looks a bit strange - silver leaves encasing a single white pearl. Very avant-garde, you think. It’s delicate in the way you wouldn’t expect an old sportsman’s jewelry to be. That’s assuming it’s even his. No record of Hamilton ever having gotten married, but you don’t rule out the possibility. You pick it up to examine it more closely, turning it in the light.

You move to pick up the photo again with the ring still resting in the palm of your other hand, blowing off the dust that has created a film over it. Two men are squatting in the very front, and you identify the darker of the two as Hamilton himself. He’s beaming in his red racing suit, a bright yellow helmet between his knees. He has his signature braids tied back into a ponytail. Next to him is a pale brunette man with a square-ish jaw and light, sad-looking eyes. Likely his teammate, whose last name is escaping you. ‘Charles’ something…

Hold on. Charles. Hamilton mentioned him in his journal, making him another potential piece of the puzzle. The two had clearly been close enough to still be in contact long after the man had withdrawn from the public. He might be very old now, but still living. Could he know something���?

Just as you’re about to pull your phone out to look him up, a familiar noise rips through the air. An engine revving. You dare to draw closer to the window and look out into the driveway. Sure enough, he’s there, circling. It’s time to go.

Despite the distance, there’s no way the rider doesn’t see you sprinting out the front door (you really should have found an alternate exit) and towards where your car is parked, whipping out your keys at light speed to unlock it. As soon as you’re inside, you realize that there is metal still digging into your palm. You’re clutching onto something. Slowly, you open your hand.

Fuck, the ring! That’s definitely stealing, but you’ll have to return it a different day. Not like Hamilton will need it back any time soon. 

Pocketing the thing in your jacket, you floor it as soon as you’re able to pull out of the driveway. The motorist thankfully doesn’t appear in your rearview, but you hear him rev his engine in the distance. Like a warning.

-

You smooth a hand over the wide-legged black pants you’re wearing, paired with a form-fitting tube top and red pumps to offset all the black. The listening party was advertised to have been “exclusive”, but the size of the crowd could’ve had you fooled. In the months since you’d published your concert review, it seems that VIII has gained quite a few new friends in high places. You spot a couple of influencers snapping photos with both their phones and flashing digital cameras, several other artists with twice his listeners that you recognize in passing but can’t recall the names of, and two journalists whom you can distinguish by the open laptops and knitted brows. It’d be perfectly fitting for you to be here. That is, if you were a music journalist.

You still aren’t sure why you were invited; you’d made it clear to VIII’s manager over email that you wouldn’t be writing an album review, or live tweeting, or whatever. This wasn’t even your lane anymore. You’d only met the man twice anyhow. 

Speaking of which, the crowd erupts in applause as the man of the hour emerges from backstage. Even here, he’s still got the fencing mask on. The singer has on a black turtleneck, over which he has on a black leather jacket with a baggier fit. They’re paired with equally-baggy patterned denim jeans that fall over a pair of red Vans. He is given a handheld microphone, and you’re startled again by how quiet his speaking voice is even with the added amplifier.

“Thank you all for coming,” he says. “You definitely didn’t have to be here, spending your evenings listening to my music. My music! I mean…it’s still so crazy to think that enough people care about my art and my journey to fill a concert hall, to fill this room. This’ll be my first full album. And so, I wanted to use it to tell a full story that was worth sitting through the full hour to hear. I hope it is. Worth it, I mean. Enjoy.”

The crowd erupts in applause, and he takes a small bow before stepping off the low stage and approaching the scattered tables, where drinks have begun to be served. You expect him to sit near someone on his team, like a producer or even his manager. You raise an eyebrow in surprise when he takes the empty seat next to you. His movements are slow, tentative, his shoulders slightly hunched as he settles onto the leather stool. The fencing mask is facing you. If you could imagine the facial expression beneath it based on his tone, it would be a timid smile.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You tilt your head with a lopsided grin. “You’re already sitting here. And I’m not really sure why, to be honest.”

A soft chuckle. “What do you mean? I owe, like, half my career to you!”

“Please,” you wave a dismissive hand, “You were already gaining traction by the time I wrote that review.”

“But it was a damn good review. I’d be an asshole not to invite you.”

As kind as the gesture is, you regret sitting where VIII could see you, especially as you’re now sipping idly on champagne. You feel his eyes on you the entire time the album plays despite them not being visible. In the middle of the second track, your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket. You wait until the singer seems focused on the front of the room, and pull it out discreetly.

It’s a notification from a news article, and the headline makes your blood run cold.

BREAKING: HAMILTON MANSION GOES UP IN FLAMES, AUTHORITIES SUSPECT ARSON.

You shut off your phone with a trembling hand, setting it down on your lap as you stare blankly ahead. Someone has just set part of a man’s legacy on fire, and you’re certain that you are to blame.

[candyheartedchy]

Writing this post to let folks know I’m (kinda) back from my short hiatus, but also to bring up a few important things. So I’m putting the rest under the cut.

While taking a break, almost abruptly, I had to clear my head for a bit because I was under a lot of stress and honestly if I didn’t step away when I did, I would’ve snapped.

I’m keeping anonymous off. For now. I’m really sorry to those who’s been using it for either their shyness or for keeping their main anonymous from their side blogs, and it’s not that I had an issue with those reasons in particular, I’m just fed up with the random/weird/rude anonymous asks in my inbox. In the future I might bring the anonymous feature back. We’ll see. I’m also considering switching dms in the near future as well to only people I follow can message me. So atm dms are still open to anyone, but it might be switched, so I’m giving a warning.

Right now, please don’t tag me in any posts related or bring up the Fin.ding Fra.nkie game, including my self ships with the two Fra.nkies. I need to step away from that fandom atm.

Lastly while I’m finishing up all my overdue commissions for folks, it might be a while until I post my own self ship art again. There’s a few different reasons as to why that I really don’t want to bring up because I don’t think it’ll help or change how past situations from certain fandoms and people had affected me. Not that I never had support from others, but I’m still hurt by a few things that I don’t think ignoring them can help anymore. Maybe I’ll be more active again once the holidays are over, but right now, I just feel numb about my own stuff. I’m still gonna try to interact with folks here, but I’ll most likely be more active on my aesthetic blog @lullachy or my original art blog @chycreations for the time being.

I don’t mean for this post about me returning to be negative, I want to be a positive influence here, I really do, because I know a lot of us use this site, or heck even self shipping, to escape from the stress of our everyday lives outside of the internet, but I’m just so tired.

Thank you for reading.

[thepenguinweeb]

rewatching part four, you say…

*slams metaphorical credit card on table* rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan rohan please i am normal and sane about the manga artist

anyways perchance maybe reader is an assorted background stand user in morioh™️, and Jotaro or Joskue or whomever pair them up to look for things/people that stick out around the town (post shigechi death). Rohan is all like “that’s stupid, I can’t use my stand on every single citizen of morioh” only to be told “that’s fine, y/n can help narrow down the search”

maybe reader with a stand that lets them see auras or something similar. Neither knows what the others stand is or does and they kinda make idle banter about it as they go about the streets searching.

Stuff like “how are you supposed to help narrow this down” “stfu i’ll just tell you who looks suspicious, what are you even gonna do when I do though?” “i don’t want to tell you wtf” and “they wouldn’t have put us together if our stands weren’t benificial” and “you know, if i really wanted, I could just get the information myself (heavens door go brrr) but Im being kind and trying this new thing called ‘consent’”

Chance for comedy bc obviously they’re not gonna find bbg yoshikage, definitely could read one person with a negative vibe and be so shocked/discouraged by what they find after hours of walking that they turn in for the night. Rohan walks reader home, could be flirty as they actually talk about how terrifying heavens door could be (ie: koichi kidnapping)

if you go with the aura thing, maybe also a conversation about what his looks like and what readers first reaction to it was. talking about how well they compliment each other and that it’s no shock they were paired up for the search

idk, idc, go nuts man. the manga artist is hot and i’m not ashamed to admit that. need him. sorry this is so long and informal 😭

[ ♡ Kishibe Rohan x reader ]

[ ♡ When Jotaro pairs you up with an unfamiliar man as your partner to search for clues about a killer living in Morioh, you find an unlikely connection despite his.. less than friendly demeanor. ]

[ ♡ Requested by: anon !! <3 ]

[ ♡ A/N: YES YES I LOVE ROHAN THANK YOU !! DW about the long ask, I cannot emphasize how much I love when people rant in my inbox about their sillies. Anyway I loved this concept smm I hope I did your idea justice !! I kinda might have gone a bit overboard lol I usually don't write this much ]

[ ♡ Word count: 2k ! ]

Divider by @/cafekitsune !!

You've lived in the quiet town that is Morioh since your childhood. Your life, up to this point had been quite average, to say the least...

Until now, that is.

A few months ago, you'd been shot with a mysterious arrow, which seemed to awaken some kind of strange power within you.

You'd always been good at judging people's characters. It's what being a chronic people-watcher does to a person. Perhaps that's why you could see people's "auras" since the arrow incident.

To be quite honest with yourself, you didn't think much of it. It came in handy a few times, but life went on as normal.

But it seemed life had other plans for you, as not long after your discovery of these powers, you met a man, Kujo Jotaro.

Well.. not so much as met. More like, watched for a few days by him because he caught you using your Stand in public and thought you were an enemy.

But, you've cleared your name since then and became loosely accquainted with a group of people who were all Stand users, much like yourself.

All was well in Morioh.. you thought so, anyway.

Oh, but poor Shigechi.

It was Josuke who informed you of his death. You were just as struck as everyone else, despite not knowing the boy personally.

He didn't deserve to die.

And so, an investigation began. Clearly, there was something going on in Morioh, way bigger scale than what the group initially expected.

But nothing came back. You asked about it every day, to see if anyone had any news, but nothing. All you could be sure about was the fact that a killer was lurking in Morioh.. who was, also, most definitely a Stand user.

Just then, you got a call from Jotaro. He told you to meet him at a certain address. And don't be late.

You honestly didn't know what to expect. Despite its unlikeliness, deep down you hoped it was only good news - that they somehow found the killer and had him arrested, so Morioh would return to normal.

That, of course, wasn't the case.

You arrived at the location quite soon, as it was not too far from your own home. The address took you to a nice-looking house, though you weren't exactly sure why Jotaro wanted to meet you at a random house.

You spotted Jotaro immediately. Not a hard task, considering the man was 190 cm and wore a huge white coat at all times.

But then, next to him was another man, unknown to you. You know you've seen his face before.. more than once, too. Yet you still couldn't put it together..

"Y/N. Good. You're here." Jotaro nodded once you approached.

"Right. So, uh.." you made a point to glance at the other man, who you noticed was staring at you trough a sharp gaze.

"Kishibe Rohan." He extended his hand toward you, his eyes almost piercing trough your soul with the intensity. You had to wonder if he was always like that, or if he just didn't trust you.. perhaps both.

"Y/N L/N.." you took his hand for an awkward handshake. Then, something seemed to click in your mind. "Wait- Kishibe Rohan. Like, the mangaka?"

"That would be me, yes."

In hindsight.. Koichi did mention something in passing about knowing Kishibe Rohan, 'the greatest mangaka alive' personally..

You smiled, hoping some banter would eventually ease him up. But just as you were about to reply, Jotaro cut you off.

"The reason you're here," he began, "is because I have a job for you both."

Both you and Rohan raised an eyebrow at that.

"You have been informed of all that has happened recently, correct?"

You nodded in confirmation.

"I want you to work together to find anyone or anything suspicious. Whatever you can find. At this point, anything could be a clue."

A small silence filled the air as you stared at the tall man. You weren't against the idea of working together with Rohan, even if you didn't know him too well. The mangaka, however..

"You must be joking, Jotaro." He crossed his arms as he turned his head to look at the other man. "Surely you don't expect me to use my Stand on everyone in Morioh?"

"Of course not," Jotaro replied in his usual tone. "That's what Y/N is here for."

You could almost feel yourself wanting to sink into the ground at the harsh glance Rohan gave you.

But, after a few minutes of convincing, he eventually was dragged out by Jotaro agreed.

An extremely awkward silence hung about as the two of you trekked trough the streets. You kept your Stand activated at all times, but so far nobody had caught your attention. Though.. you had to admit, Rohan's aura was quite unique. Perhaps it was the simple fact that he was a Stand user, but his aura was more.. powerful, more confident, more defining than the average person.

"So." It was him who broke the silence first. "How, exactly, are you supposed to be of any help?"

You glanced at him, not appreciating his condescending tone. "It's simple. I'll tell you who's suspicious and who's not." You raised an eyebrow. "And what are you supposed to be doing?"

The man scoffed in response. "As if I would tell you about my Stand."

You rolled your eyes at his attitude. "Jotaro paired us up for a reason." Your lips curved into a small grin. "What, are you this insecure about your abilities?"

Rohan glared at you, even more intensely than before. He gave you the kind of look that told you if consequences weren't a thing, he'd have strangled you by now.

"Shut your mouth," he replied. "I don't need you for this job, you know. I could always do it on my own. You should be grateful you even have this opportunity."

You let out a long sigh and clutched your temple. It would be a long day if it kept on going like this..

The sun was beginning to dip in the sky above you. You'd been wandering the streets of Morioh since the morning, and so far, nothing.

"Ughh.." you heard Rohan quietly groan beside you. "Are you sure your Stand works perfectly? You seriously haven't seen anything at all yet?"

You gave the man a pointed glare upon hearing his doubts. "Of course it works," you snapped back.

"Then how come we haven't found a single suspicious person yet? Morioh isn't such a big town." He sighed. "Maybe you should get better at judging people."

"Ah, yes, I should be more like you, huh? Be judgemental to everyone who I think is below me."

You could tell Rohan was about to clap back with some witty comment, but you suddenly stopped in your tracks, so he did the same.

You focused on a certain person whose aura was different from the rest.

"That one." You pointed a finger at them.

Thankfully, for once Rohan decided not to be a pain in the ass and actually cooperate. As soon as you pointed the person out, he summoned his own Stand.. it was smaller than you expected from someone with an aura like his, but alas.

"Heaven's door!"

Rohan, with a simple drawing, somehow knocked the person out.. and turned their body into a book?

Definitely looked weird and gross.

"..that's your Stand?"

"Shut it."

Rohan began to flip trough the pages, his expression less and less positive with each passing paragraph.

After a couple minutes, he let out a long, defeated sigh. "Definitely not who we're looking for."

"Are you gonna let me read it too, or..."

The man rolled his eyes and let you have a look. But, to your disappointment, he was right. There was nothing noteworthy about them, there was no chance they were the killer.

You let out a sigh aswell and stepped back. You saw Rohan briefly scribble something into the book, then close it up.

"Let's go," he muttered. "We've been wandering for long enough. We can just tell Jotaro we haven't found anything."

You nodded in defeat and followed behind him as the two of you walked back toward his house.

"Well.. now that you know what my Stand does, it's only fair you tell me about yours too." Rohan spoke on your way back. "Isn't that right?"

"I suppose.." you replied. Even though you were reluctant to share at first, in a strange way, the two of you seemed to bond trough the day, even if you kept insulting and hating on each other.

"My Stand is called [Stand name]. It basically allows me to see people's auras, and get a feeling of their character," you explained.

"Hm.. I see." He was quiet for a while, most likely deep in thought. "So, what about mine?"

You tilted your head to the side. "You want to know what your aura is like?"

He nodded.

"Well, it's.. bold, powerful. Definitely stands out. It's proud and shameless. Like you."

You didn't even notice the small smile that grew on your face while you spoke. But Rohan definitely did, which only gave him an ego boost, it seemed.

"Is that so?" He questioned.

You nodded in response. "It was a little intimidating at first, to be honest," you muttered. "But you're not so scary. Just.. annoying."

He huffed at your answer and rolled his eyes in a dramatic motion, not missing the way you giggled at it.

"Heaven's Door can be frightening, I'll have you know," he replied, almost sounding defensive.

"Hm, well.. I guess it is pretty horrible to have your memories read, or taken out, or altered.." you pondered on that for a moment. "Your Stand is too powerful."

Rohan just grinned, not at all insulted. "Only the best for the best."

You stifled another sigh at his arrogant behaviour. You've gotten used to it by the course of that day.

"But.." he continued, his tone changing to a more serious one again. "I do see why Jotaro paired us up now." He looked at you. "Our Stands do work nicely with each other. Wouldn't you agree?"

You gave him a smile and nodded. "Yeah. In an investigation like this, especially."

Soon, the two of you arrived back to his home. It was dark by then, but you didn't mind.

"Well, today was.." you began,

"Exhausting," Rohan finished the sentence for you. "Horrible and exhausting."

"Yeah.. that." You chuckled. "But.. honestly, it was better than I expected." You tapped your chin. "Could've been worse.. especially since you were involved."

He narrowed his eyes at you. "Hey. What's that supposed to mean?"

"Pfft.." you stifled another chuckle. "I'll let you figure it out by yourself. Since you're so smart."

Rohan just glared at you in silence for a moment before shaking his head and giving up. "You're hopeless."

Your grin widened in amusement. Oh, was it easy to rile the poor man up.. you didn't feel too bad about it though.

Suddenly, he took out his notebook and wrote down something. He tore the page out and handed it to you without a word. Taking one look at it, you could tell clearly it was a phone number.

"We should keep in touch during the investigation," he said. "I don't believe you have my phone number yet."

"Now I do," you said with a smile. "Thank you."

He simply hummed in reply and muttered a barely audible 'no problem'.

"You better head home now," he told you. "I've seen too much of your face for today."

You wanted to take the insult to heart, but all you could do was giggle at it. "As if that was a problem."

"Get out."

"You're no fun.." you complained, but you did as he wished and turned around. "I'll call you if I find out anything, yeah?"

"Right," Rohan agreed. "Same goes for me."

You waved at each other and parted ways. The night suddenly felt a lot colder and more quiet without Rohan's annoying, yet admittedly somehow endearing presence.

The day might've been way too long, and not even successful. But hey. At least you made a connection with someone.

[justmystyles]

Big Winners - Part 3 (Final Part)

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x record producer plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 2,406

summary: Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them.

a/n: sorry it took me so long to get this last part out. i hope it was worth the wait! i might slow down on posting for a bit as I want to map out and complete NYIML, as well as start a few other things i have in my head. i might also try to clear out my inbox a bit and finally get to some of your lovely requests.

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

The ride back to the hotel is spent in silence, Harry and Y/N letting the events of the evening sink in. The thing that kept running on a loop was that kiss. Their first kiss. They had been friends for a decade and a half, and that was a line that had never been crossed. 

Now that it had, neither was sure that they wanted to go back, but they were also nervous that the other didn’t feel the same. Not wanting to ruin or complicate the magic of the moment, they each made a silent vow not to mention the kiss, or wait until the other brought it up. 

The car pulls up to the front of the hotel, Harry gets out quickly, offering his hand to Y/N to help her step out. Their hands remain linked as they walk through the lobby and into the elevator. 

They stand together in the back corner of the empty elevator, Y/N sighs and leans her head down on Harry’s shoulder before finally breaking the silence. 

“I know our phones are probably blowing up with congratulatory messages, but do you think we could ignore all that until tomorrow? I feel like this moment needs to be just us.”

Harry smiles and places a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I think that’s an amazing idea. We can worry about the rest of the world tomorrow, tonight is just about you and I.” 

The elevator door opens, and Harry leads Y/N down the hall to their suite. 

“I can’t get over tonight…” Y/N sighs as they approach the door. 

Harry chuckles as he swipes his key card, opening the door and holding it for Y/N. “I can’t either. It’s been such a hectic night, and it all flew by so quickly.” 

Y/N smiles and nods, her expression quickly turns pensive. “Is it weird of me to say that I’ve never felt closer to you?” She wasn’t technically mentioning the kiss, maybe she just needed to test the waters a little. 

“Not weird at all,” Harry confirms with a dimpled grin. “I was thinking the exact same thing, actually.” 

He pauses for a moment, debating whether or not to bring up the kiss, he decides against it. “Even after all these years, everything we’ve been through, tonight just seemed to bring us closer than ever before.” 

Y/N smiles softly, relieved that he agrees. But he didn’t say anything about the kiss, so she let it go. “I’m going to take all of this off and get into my pajamas. You wanna order the room service and I’ll meet you in your room for food and a movie?”

“Why my room?” Harry asks with a furrowed brow. 

“Because, I’m tired and don’t want to deal with the couch, and you have the bigger bed.” She stated plainly. 

He narrowed his eyes playfully at her. “I hate how logical you are.” She giggled and shook her head. “What do you want me to order for you?” He asks.

Y/N shrugs. “You know me, just get whatever I’d like. I trust you.” With that, she goes into her room to change and take off her makeup. 

A few minutes later, she knocks softly on Harry’s bedroom door. He quickly calls for her to come in, and she enters wearing a pair of pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair in a messy ponytail, and her face makeup free. She is met with Harry, who is sitting on the bed in a pair of pajama pants and no shirt, his back resting against the headboard. 

Harry smiles softly as she climbs into bed beside him. She looked stunning when she was glammed up, but she was at her most beautiful like this. This was the real, authentic Y/N, and she was perfect. 

He had always thought Y/N was beautiful, but they were friends, he had never seen her as anything more. Until that kiss. It was as if something had awoken inside of him, and he saw her in a completely different light. He saw the potential, he saw what they could be. 

He was nervous though. Despite her being the one to initiate the kiss, he wasn’t sure where her head was at. Did she have these feelings too? Or did she just get caught up in all of the emotions in that moment? 

Harry shook the thoughts out of his head, these were all things to worry about another time. He held his arms open and she instantly snuggled against him, he tilted his head and placed a gentle kiss in her hair. 

“Hey, Harry?” She says softly. 

“Hmm?”

“We won a Grammy award tonight.” She says in a soft tone, but the excitement is still clear. 

Harry chuckles and squeezes her a little tighter. “We did, didn’t we?” 

“I think this has been the best night of my life.” “Mine too,” he agrees. 

Before either of them can say anything else, there is a knock on the door. Harry excuses himself to grab the room service, he gives her one last squeeze before hopping out of the bed and leaving the room. 

Y/N watches as Harry walks away, her heart and mind racing. She was trying to decide if kissing her best friend was the best decision, or biggest mistake of her life. 

Over the years, there had been a few fleeting thoughts of what could be with Harry. It wasn’t lost on her that he treated her better than any guy she had ever dated, but she always just pushed those feelings down, not wanting to jeopardize one of the most important relationships in her life.

Now, all of those thoughts and feelings she had been ignoring for years had bubbled to the surface, and they weren’t going to be so easy to just brush off anymore. In the flurry of emotions and activity, she let her guard down and without even thinking, put everything on the line. 

She was grateful that he wasn’t saying anything, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d just let it slide, and they’d never speak of it again. But did she want to never speak of it again? He kissed back, he definitely kissed back, so he felt something too, right? Or was he just caught up in the moment?

“Time to eat!” Harry’s voice breaks her from her thoughts. She turns her head to the door to see him wheeling in a cart full of food. 

“Jesus, how much did you order?” Y/N hops out of bed and helps him lay out all of the plates on the table. 

“It’s a celebration,” Harry shrugs. “Besides, you’re picky, so I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes and chuckles. “I’m not that picky.” 

“The first thing you look for at every restaurant we go to is whether or not they have chicken fingers.” He says with an arched brow. 

“It’s my standby backup food. Pretty much any restaurant is going to have some iteration of chicken fingers, so if I can’t find anything else, I’ll get that. Speaking of…” Her eyes roam over the plates. 

Harry lifts a plate of chicken fingers and french fries. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite?” She says sweetly and kisses his cheek. “Yeah, every time I buy you chicken fingers.” He chuckles and ruffles her hair. 

She giggles and takes a chicken finger off the plate. 

“Ah ah ah,” Harry chides as he slaps her hand lightly. “Before we eat, I want to do something.” Y/N looks at him curiously. “There are going to be a ton of pictures out there of us all dressed up with our shiny trophies. I want to take one of the real us with our trophies.”

She drops the chicken finger back on the plate, and wipes her hands on her pants while Harry grabs the two trophies and walks over to the full length mirror. 

When she approaches, he hands her one of the trophies and pulls his phone out of his pocket. They stand side by side, Harry takes the hand with his phone in it and wraps it around her shoulder, while she wraps one arm around his torso, the other holding the trophy. 

“Okay, smile.” Harry says in a goofy tone. Once she is smiling, he presses his lips to her temple and snaps the picture. 

They take a few more, their eyes locked on each other through the mirror. The energy feels different, more intimate than it typically does, but they both choose to ignore it. 

Once the impromptu photo shoot is over, they grab their food and get back into bed. Harry throws on a movie, but it’s merely background noise as they spend their night laughing and joking as they recap the evening; avoiding one specific detail in particular. 

Hours later, they’re stuffed from the food, and laying in each other's arms in the bed. 

“Can I stay here? I’m too tired and full to walk to my room.” 

Harry chuckles and nods, he looks down at you and sees your eyes fluttering, as if they could close any moment. “Of course you can,” he says softly, kissing the top of her hair. 

Y/N sighs happily and her eyes finally close. Harry lays there, staring at the ceiling. He knows he should be tired, but all he can think about is that kiss. It had been lingering in his mind all night, and as much as he didn’t want to ruin the moment, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep without talking about it. 

“Hey Y/N, are you still awake?” Harry whispers. 

“Mhm…” She hums sleepily. 

Harry sighs, he feels bad keeping her up, but he knows he can’t keep it inside anymore. He pauses for a moment before finally speaking. 

“Can we talk about… uh, well…” He stutters, not sure how to say it. “You kissed me tonight.” 

Y/N’s breath hitches, her eyes remain closed for a moment before opening them and sitting up. His words wake her up like a bucket of cold water. “Yeah… I guess I kind of did.” She says sheepishly. “But you kissed me back.” She quickly gets defensive. 

Harry chuckles at her comeback, he throws his hands up in surrender. “I did, I know. I’m not denying that.” He takes a deep breath. “I just… listen, you know I love you, and you’re stuck with me forever, no matter what, so no hard feelings either way. I was just wondering if it was… a heat of the moment thing, or in some way intentional…”

Y/N drops her gaze, it definitely helped that Harry said she was stuck with him no matter what. Maybe this wasn’t as bad of a thing as she had thought. They had always been honest in their friendship, so she wasn’t about to start lying to him now. 

“I think it started as a heat of the moment thing, like I didn’t go into this thinking ‘if I win, I’m going to kiss him.’ But when it happened, it felt… good, it felt right.”

A small smile plays on Harry’s face. “Yeah?” 

She looks up at him, her heart starting to race when she sees his expression. “What about you? Did you want to kiss me back, or were you just being polite?” 

“I definitely wasn’t just being polite.” He chuckles. “And it kind of… I don’t know, it opened up this door that I didn’t even know was there. It made me think that maybe this is something more than we’ve thought all these years…”

Y/N nods in understanding. “So, you’ve never thought about us being more than friends before?”

“Honestly, no.” He says quietly, he feels a little bad about that answer; especially with everything he’s feeling now. “Have you?”  

“Maybe once or twice,” she shrugs. “I just, I don’t know, you’re the first person I always go to after a breakup, and we’ll be talking, and you’ll be shitting on the guy, and I’ll just think about how you’re the opposite of all the things you shit on.” 

“But you never-” 

“Because our friendship is too important to me.” She interrupts him. “I always cut those thoughts off as soon as they start, because I never wanted to complicate things. I’m your friend, and what we have is so amazing. I didn’t want to complicate it with extra feelings that could possibly be one sided.” 

“Which they were,” Harry finishes her thought. “Until tonight.” 

“So… what does this mean?” Y/N asks, her heart racing and her stomach in knots. This is a pivotal moment in their friendship, and she’s terrified of what comes next. 

“Well,” Harry starts, a soft, dreamy expression on his face. “If you think about it, we’ve kind of always been a bit like a couple. I mean, you were about to fall asleep in my bed… in my arms. Maybe we should just take that one last step and make things a bit more official.”

Y/N smiles shyly, she can’t remember the last time she ever felt nervous around Harry, because of Harry. “So like, a more than friends situation?” 

Harry chuckles and nods his head, lifting his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “More than friends. Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” 

“That sounded so corny,” she giggles. 

“Sweetheart, if you thought I was corny as your best friend, just wait until you see how corny I can be as your boyfriend.” He says with a goofy smirk. 

“My boyfriend…” She sighs, letting the reality of the moment sink in. 

He lets out a breathy laugh and leans in, pausing just before their lips touch. “My girlfriend…” He whispers before pressing his lips to hers. 

The kiss deepens instantly. Now that their feelings have been fully realized, it’s like fifteen years worth of ‘should have beens’ are all coming to the surface. Harry shifts effortlessly, so that Y/N is laying on the bed with him hovering over her. 

“This really is the best night of my life…” Y/N says softly, as she stares into his eyes.

Harry smirks and leans down, trailing kisses along her neck. “Well get ready, it’s about to get even better…”

[descendantsramblings]

I have a little idea for Male!Reader x james Hook and morgie

-

Male reader (son of Rapunzel maybe?) Went back in time with Red and Chloe, Hook and Morgie took a certain interest in him cause the boy is a stubborn little thing with a big mouth.

The Reader is mostly annoyed/amused with Hooks flirting and finds Morgies teasing Interesting. Reader is interested in morgie (sorry hook) but the Reader knows he cant put a move on morgie even if he wants to cause that could cause problems with the timeline and the future

Its all just a mess for the reader but he may or may not become weak at one point cause lets be honest- who can resist a Dork that acts like a golden retriever.

Having the Morgie boys be some of the main people in my inbox is literally my favorite thing. I love him so much, this is wonderful.

In Another Life

Morgie le Fay x Time traveling!Reader/James Hook x Time Traveling!Reader

Pronouns Used: He/Him/His

Summary: When Rapunzel’s son is dragged back in time by his childhood best friend he finds himself the object of two villains’ affections.

Warnings: suggestive comments, crying technically, minor swearing, a few words in German, bad ending, mentions of death, the reader is kinda mean to Chloe in the first paragraph

Word Count: 2.9K

Translations (I don't speak German so I hope this is correct)

hau rein - "see ya", mein sonnenschein - "My sunshine"

    “How was I supposed to know that I’d get us sent to the past when I grabbed you? You have to forgive me at some point!” The blue-haired girl looks nearly animated in her movements as the argues with him. Chloe had managed to get him thrown into every single negative situation she’d gone through the entire time they’d known each other. But this? This takes the cake. “I can’t believe you! How dare you act like this is just a little spill, we’re stuck here Chloe. Stuck, no going home until some Wonderland kid we just met decides we can. This is not something I’ll just ‘forgive you eventually’ for! I should be at home with my family, not here in a point of time where our country doesn’t even exist yet!” His arms move wildly in the air around him as he yells. The last day with his parents until family day and now he had to spend it with someone else? And he was supposed to, what? Trust a kid who just convicted his best friend’s mother of treason? This was ridiculous. Everyone should know not to trust the person who got your mother sentenced to death to help save their mother. “What about my family? If we didn’t come back then my mom would for sure die.” “No Chloe, not we. If you and Red didn’t. This doesn’t involve me. I don’t want to be here!” “And you think I do?” 

    He turns on his heel, storming off towards the woods behind him. “(Y/n) Fitzherbert! You don’t even know where you’re going!” The boy huffs, waving a hand at her as if to brush her off “Well, guess I’ll just have to get lost!” Normally he wouldn’t be so huffy. But normally normal things were happening to him. Being the first person to experience time travel was not part of his bucket list, he could promise you that. He just needed to clear his head, regroup. That would fix him, surely it would.  The woods felt no different to the ones in his own part of the timeline, though then again, how could they be? They were just woods, just trees and grass and morning dew. It smelt fresher though, as if the air was cleaner somehow. Perhaps it was, the past couple decades had the time to affect the air, would they not? (Y/n) would never tell his friends about where exactly he went when he was alone in the woods, they all assumed he spent his time at the enchanted lake, and he  assumed it was better that way. Some things should get to be secrets, if not he’d never be alone again. He deserved to have his secrets. Everyone did, didn’t they? 

      And there it was, the old shell of a hideout that looked newer now, nicer. Not that it looked nice per say but it wasn’t what he was used to back home. The boy slowly makes his way to the side of the lagoon, jumping from rock to rock as he approached his slice of solitude. It felt like he was where he was supposed to be for the first time in the four hours he’d been stuck in the past. Listening to the familiar thump of his converse on the large flat pieces of stone put him at peace. Maybe for only a few minutes he could be at home, that’s all he wanted. Home, god Red better be able to get them back there. He just needed his taste of it, then he’d go put on a pretty face for Chloe and Red and apologize to his best friend for yelling at her. Of course he would, he always did.

   At home, he was pretty much the only person who even knew about the black lagoon, no one else was ever there. So why would he expect someone now? The two boys sitting in the hideout were a shock to him. How had he never thought about who would have used the place before him? He was smarter than that, surely he was. Had the boys been facing away from him, he would’ve just left. Actually gone to the Enchanted Lake or maybe just turned back to Chloe. That wasn’t his luck though, instead they stared at him nearly challenging him.  Silently but visibly questioning what made him think he was allowed to be in their space.

      “What have we here?” The boy with the darker hair steps towards him, hook swinging towards him in a manner that almost felt playful. “We don’t get many Princes around here. What a surprise,” he slides the dull end of the golden hook down the boy’s cheek, smirking at him, “Come here looking for something, did you?” The seductive tone of the pirate was so thick you’d have to be a fool to miss it. Something similar to how he’d spoken to Chloe earlier when she was more than ready to fight him. No doubt the pirate was just like that. His eyes go over the boy, giving him the up and down twice before scoffing, “Not for you.” Hook drops his arm, stepping back slightly with a brow quirked. “Oh really?” The other boy comes up behind him now, hands resting on Hook’s shoulders as he peers over him at the Prince. “So you’re here for me then?” His lip slots between his teeth as he looks at the boy. Something about the teasing tone Morgie used had his stomach flipping. The smirk on his face was softer, an almost hopeful twinkle in his eyes.  “Come on, Darling, we both saw how you were looking at us back in the courtyard. Who’d you come to see?” Hook crosses his arms as he speaks, shamelessly checking out the Prince. 

    “Actually,” (Y/n) steps away, heading over to that old seashell chair he  adored and falling in it, “I was hoping the place was empty. Shouldn’t you two be in class?” Morgie’s brows furrow, that was his seat, why would he take his seat? “Shouldn’t you be in class, Darling?” Eyes roll back in their sockets as he runs his hand down the fabric of the chair. It was so much nicer right now, going back to the way it was in the future was going to suck now that he knew its potential. “You don’t need to worry about where I should be.”  “Oh no,” Morgie waltzes to his side, perching on the chair beside him, so close their thighs brush as he sits, “Well, you’re in our space and my seat. So I think we do get to worry about where you’re supposed to be.” Morgie's seat, huh? He hums, a smirk on his lips, “If you say so.” “I do,” Morgie lets his eyes shamelessly linger on his mouth, taking in the smirk that seemed to tease him back. This was the closest he’d ever been to a royal without actively harassing them. He thought the stranger would pull away, maybe move from his chair all together, but he didn’t. He simply adjusted in the seat, their legs getting closer as he did, now pressed to each other, solidifying his stance on moving. “Listen boys, you can pretend I’m not here, I don’t really care. I just need a piece of home and this is as close as I can get.”  

     Hook and Morgie share a look, seeming to communicate through their eyes. This exchange student didn’t fear them in the slightest. It was new, almost a rush for the both of them. And in that moment they seemed to silently agree on something. This was going to be their new little game it seemed. Who could get the new boy’s affections first? May the odds be ever in your favor. 

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      Pretending he didn’t know exactly where they were going while walking with Red and Chloe to the Black Lagoon was harder than he thought. Surely if he was too obvious they’d get suspicious. And he couldn’t imagine how they’d react if they knew he’d spent a whole class period with two boys who would help lead to the mess they’d been facing back home. Not that he’d meant to spend time with them, of course not. Why would he? They were villains, or at least they were supposed to be. He wasn’t so sure he could call them that though, not after the way he saw them. How would those two boys, the ones who were teases as best, go on to end up on the Isle of the Lost? How would Morgie end up there at all? Surely it would have to be similar to how the VKs from his part of the timeline did, wouldn’t it? Just a victim to his family line, nothing more. Not that he knew him. Of course one afternoon wasn’t enough to know a person, but the way he spoke, the innocence in his eyes when (Y/n) had confused him a few times, that seemed a little hard to fake. 

     He lags behind the girls as they walk away from the Lagoon, lost in his own mind. Not that they’d notice, too wrapped up in talking about the prank that was meant to be pulled in two days. Chloe being a touch too distracted by the red lipstick painting the other princess’ lips. He took a mental note to tease her for that later, some point where they could all laugh about all this. He could feel eyes on him from behind, pausing to put more space between the girls before him and himself. Whoever was trailing them didn’t need to bother the princesses, he could handle them alone for sure. Left hand reaching for the sword on his hip as two bodies collide with his back. Chests to his shoulders. “Are you following us now, Darling?” “Miss us that much already?” (Y/n) turns to look over his left shoulder first, smiling at Morgie and sending him a teasing wink before turning the other way to look at Hook. Hand falling away from his sword, he wouldn't need it against them. “It seems to me you’re following me, Captain. Considering you ran into my back when I stopped walking and all.” “Touché,” he smirks, putting his hook under the boy’s chin with a smile, “Can you blame me? Watching you walk away is quite the view.” 

   He laughs, stepping away from the pirate and slightly running into Morgie. “You pirates are all so shameless. Ego’s bigger than your ship isn’t it?” “Oh wouldn’t you like to know? You should come ride it some time.” He winks at the Prince, words obviously holding a double meaning that should've brought a blush to his cheeks. (Y/n) laughs, taking notice of the gentle hand that had found its way onto his shoulder from behind. “Oh, I’ve seen the Jolly Roger, she’s not that impressive.” Hook raises a brow, “Oh you have? How haven’t I seen you before, then?” Shit, he hadn’t seen the Jolly Roger while Hook was the Captain. He shouldn’t have let that slip. “I’ve visited Neverland a time or two, guess you just aren’t that observant.” Hopefully it was convincing enough, he turns to the sorcerer behind him, the boy looking down at him. “You would’ve noticed me, wouldn’t you?” He hoped it would help make his earlier words more convincing or at least serve as a good distraction from them. If it hadn’t been so dark, the boy would’ve seen the pink hue drawn to Morgie’s cheeks and ears. The villain silently thanking Uliana for wanting to wait until dark to discuss their plans for revenge, had they done this earlier he would’ve been caught for sure. “Of course I would. Look at you.” It wasn’t as smooth as he’d hoped for, nothing like the line delivery he’d had in the daylight but he could still see a smile play across the Prince’s face, teeth and eyes sparkling in the pale moonlight. 

    “I’d hope so, I like the attention.” He knew better than to play with him like that. Who knew how they’d be changing the future just from a small interaction. Though it seemed that Chloe and Red hadn’t, (Y/n) did learn a thing or two about the Butterfly Effect. He could only hope to all things good that he wouldn’t ruin his own future by just being between the two boys. If he was stronger, maybe he'd move. It was hard not to linger there though, with that sweet look on Morgie’s face and the burning feeling of the pirate’s eyes on him. Boys back home never looked at him like this .Never stared at his lips the way Morgie did, it felt good. And if he wasn’t so scared of changing things, he might have just given in to those half lidded eyes that were locked on his lips and leaned up. Were they as soft as they looked? It was like the other boy could read his thoughts, Hook turning him to face away from Morgie with a teasing smirk playing on his lips,  “If it’s attention you’re looking for, I know a great source.” (Y/n) laughs, shaking his head as he pulls away from both of them. “You don’t know when to quit, do you, Captain? Well, hau rein boys, have a good night.” 

     Morgie hates to admit to how hard he was staring as he watched the prince walk away from him. Eyes locked on the royal strut, he knew Hook’s would be too. It was nearly impossible to look away from him. “What language was that?” He spares Hook a look when the darkness swallows the boy’s receding form, brows raised in confusion. “I,” Hook stops, turning to look at his friend with an equally confused face, “I’m not sure.” 

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    Two days in the past shouldn’t have this effect on him. It’s embarrassing, how did he let a boy he just met get him so wrapped up like this. A boy he couldn’t even have, and yet he was begging for an extra thirty minutes in the past to just say goodbye. Running through the halls of Merlin academy just hoping to see a flash of black and green. He had to say goodbye, he just, he had something he had to do. For himself. Where would a sorcerer whose friends all just got frozen by a magic cookbook be hiding? Where would he be if Chloe had just been frozen? 

    Looking for whoever did it to her. Without a second thought he’d be looking for whoever hurt her. And if Morgie was anything like him, that's what he'd be doing too. So that means, he needed to retrace his steps from the office to Red’s dorm. Running back towards the dorm and straight past it he ends up slamming into a solid chest. Two strong hands grabbing his arms and stabilizing him as the impact almost sends him falling backwards. He looks up to see a pair of hazel eyes that had plagued him for the past two days. He assumes they’ll be haunting him for the rest of his life now. The boy being forever unattainable.  The thought was nauseating.

    “Hey! Careful there, you almost wiped out,” Morgie’s hands slide down his arms, ghosting over the bewildered look on his face, “You okay, (Y/n)?” He didn’t know the boy well, Morgie couldn’t deny that. But he could feel in his heart of hearts that the way the boy laughed at his question was out of character. “I was looking for you actually, lucky me that you were,” he looks at those pretty eyes again, letting out a shaky breath, “Right here.” A pale pink lip slides between his teeth, disrupting the smile that was trying to spread across his face, “Lucky I was, someone had to catch you.” (Y/n) shakes his head, breaking eye contact, “People don’t tend to catch me very often.”It makes Morgie place a single knuckle under his chin, tilting his face back up so he has to look him in the eyes again. “I’d catch you every time. I actually was looking for you too. I needed to ask you something.” 

     The sorcerer had that hopeful look back in his eyes, the one he'd had back in the hide out. It made (Y/n)’s chest hurt. “You did?” He nods, smile stretched across his face as he pulls his hands back to himself, fiddling with his fingers as he speaks. “Listen, I know that it’s super late, considering it’s tomorrow and all, but I was wondering if you’d go to Castlecoming with me? I know we just met and all but there’s no better time to get to know each other right?” He knew from the way the Prince’s face fell that there was no way he’d get the answer he wanted. If he was smarter, maybe he would've run away. 

     “Oh, Morgie, in another life I’d be able to answer that the way I want to.” He frowns, brows furrowing, “Well, why can’t you?” He lets his palm rest on Morgie’s cheek, and despite the fact that the boy’s heart was visibly breaking, he nuzzles against his hand. “You could never understand how us being together would effect where I’m from,” it’s shaky, a slow breath following his words. His voice was weaker than he wanted it to be. “Is it,” he takes a shaky breath, eyes growing a little blurry as he looks at the prince. He thought he was different, that maybe his family wouldn’t matter to him, how silly he was to believe that. “Is it because I’m a villain?” (Y/n) knew better when he leaned forward, he knew better than placing his lips on those pretty pale pink ones. It was a kiss he’d compare to every one that followed. Soft, sweet and sad, a poetic moment that would only ever get to be a memory. He knew he’d regret it when he went home and nothing felt like the lips of the second generation sorcerer. Forehead resting on the other boy’s as he lets out a sigh, eyes still closed because he knew he couldn't look at the boy and get his words out. The way he caught feelings for the first person to show him attention was embarrassing. “Mein sonnenschein, I didn’t get to know you well, but I know you are no villain. In another life I’d be your happily ever after.” Morgie frowns, pulling away from him, “I wish it could be this one.” Eyes opening at the loss of contact, (Y/n) looks up at the boy, his words were doing more harm than good. He knew he should turn away, he needed to get back to Red - to his home-, but tearing his eyes away from the boy would hurt. “Yeah,” he wipes a tear he didn’t mean to let slip, “Yeah, I do too.”

Yeah, there was no way he'd just "forgive Chloe at some point" over this one. No one is supposed to break their own heart.

Find Part 2 Here

[ladykailitha]

Murder mystery please!

WIP Wednesday! Just clearing out my inbox! Join me next week!

Other asks here, here, here, here.

Snippet

“I see,” he said thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “And you guys want me to find out who really did it?”

Linda nodded and put her arm around Mark. “His uncle offered to pay for his schooling after he graduates from high school, but now he’s threatening to take it away unless we prove he didn’t do. With all our money tied up in the farm we can’t afford to send to college, so we’re really relying on that money.”

“I’ll take the job,” he said. He held up his hand when she reached for her purse. “For free. I know what’s it like to be railroaded just because of who you are.”

“We know,” Ollie said, looking him in the eye. “It’s why we came here first. But we won’t be taking no charity, we’ll be paying like honest folk.”

[renthony]

🏳️‍🌈

(Drop a 🏳️‍🌈 in my inbox and I’ll respond with a queer media recommendation!)

Everybody who follows me already knows that The Dragon Prince is my favorite TV show in the whole world. Created for Netflix by Aaron Ehasz (an alumnus of Avatar: the Last Airbender) and Justin Richmond, it's an epic fantasy series that kicks off with a trio of plucky protagonists who are determined to return an egg kidnapped from the dragon queen by a dark mage, because the kidnapping of the dragon prince (hey! the title!) puts the entire world at risk of war.

One of the fundamental themes is exploring the cycle of violence and abuse, and how that cycle can only be broken when people commit to it wholeheartedly. It also shows that, even when someone wants to break the cycle, there are others who are invested in continuing it, and peace takes incredible and painful work.

The worldbuilding is phenomenal, the character and creature design is incredible, the story is gripping, and the writing is...*chef's kiss.* Every season is better than the last, and the increase in animation quality across the years is unreal. Season six was utterly ethereal.

Phase one of the series spanned seasons one to three, and we are currently in the final stretch of arc two ("Mystery of Aaravos"), encompassing seasons four to seven. Season six just dropped, and according to the official Instagram account, it's been #1 on Netflix for the past five days! That's really great news, because they're trying really hard to get greenlit for arc three--so now is a really, really great time to get into the show! You want to do it, you want to do it so bad. Use the hashtags #TheDragonPrince, #ContinueTheSaga, and #GiveUsTheSaga if you do! Please, for the love of fuck! 😭😭😭

Currently there are six seasons of the tv show, several books (including novelizations, original comics, and art book, and in-universe guides), a tabletop roleplaying game, a board game, and a brand-new video game that launched this week. This world is huge, and it's so fun to explore!

Here's the trailer for season one of the show:

Here's a trailer for the most recent season, for those who saw the early seasons but didn't keep up:

And here's the trailer for the mobile game:

As far as why I'm recommending it as a queer show, there are so many queer characters. The show prompted some griping early on because it had a pair of tragically dead lesbian queens, but in the seasons since, they've introduced a gloriously alive lesbian battle couple who get married on-screen, a married pair of gay men, three different trans characters (one of whom joins the main cast in season 4 and remains a major character), and a general lovely air of casual queerness in a high fantasy setting. The tabletop roleplaying game has multiple canon queer characters, too, and the show's cast and crew have made it clear that they have queer people among them, they fully support queer people in the fandom, and they want to include queerness in their world. It's awesome.

(And I'm still sticking with "when one man looks at another man and says 'our baby was so cute,' that's canon enough for me." So there's some fantastic queer villainy that's, like, the perfect icing on the cake for me personally. The Dragon Prince: for all your unholy dark magic mpreg bug baby needs!)

Also, this show has my poorest, saddest, littlest, wettest meow-meow babygirl of all fucking time: Lord Viren, (former) High Mage of Katolis, the most turbo-divorced man in all existence. If you follow me, you've seen that motherfucker. You know who he is. You have seen his sad miserable little face. You know who I am and what I'm here for. This paragraph is not a surprise to you. You know.

Here's a picture of me in Viren cosplay, as both a shameless cosplay self-promo and a reiteration that, no, seriously, this is my favorite TV show ever:

Ask For a Rec | Other Media Recommendations | Support Links

[writing-for-life]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN DREAM'S HAIR USED TO BE WHITE!! oh my god. i just saw your post about killala and i have now perished. thanks for breaking my heart.

but also hi!! i'm relatively new to the fandom and it's a great place to be. i haven't finished reading all the comics yet but i'm curious to know:

what do you think are the main differences between TV!Dream and Comics!Dream? i've heard so many people claiming that he is incapable of changing, for instance, and though the show does convey his overall rigidity pretty well, i'm not getting the vibe that he's immutable.

also!! it's clear that he feels a lot. which is always funny to me when the corinthian is like yo, try this and maybe you'll feel something for a change but like. he does!!! or i get the impression that he does. he probably feels too much if anything?? all of it simmering just beneath the surface, barely contained. how would you personally analyze his relationship with his own emotions?

i hope all of this is coherent enough for you to answer lmao, i saw your post about enjoying being asked sandman questions two seconds after i woke up and barged into your inbox. hope you have a lovely day!

Thanks so much for the ask, and welcome if you’re new(ish) to the fandom! 🤗

I’m sorry I broke your heart—much more heartbreak to come I fear if you haven’t read the comics yet, so I’ll try to keep this as spoiler-free as possible.

I am one of those people who believes the differences between comics!Dream and show!Dream are actually not as big as they are made out to be where it matters, and you will definitely find people who disagree. At the end of the day, we all read it through our own lens and will never be fully objective about it.

The main difference I see is that they filed off the rough edges of the comics a bit to make a new audience sympathise more. It’s very hard to do that with a character who is basically in full arsehole mode for most of the first 40 issues or so, and even then only slowly begins to come out of it (although we can obviously see glimmers of what lies below the surface at the beginning of the comics, too, but it’s far more subtle than in the show). I’ve worked in musical theatre for a over decade of my life and understand a bit about bringing the written word to stage/screen, and some things simply don’t translate well from book to stage/screen, and you have to change it. So my personal opinion is we get a more sympathetic Morpheus and certain changes so the audience can do exactly that—sympathise off the bat. You will lose an audience pretty quickly if they don’t care about the protagonist and the universe he moves in, and you can’t be as nuanced about it as you can be in a written work. We’re talking about streaming services thinking about profits here, even if people don’t want to hear it.

Also: The more you sympathise with a character, the deeper the emotional investment and the more you feel, even if it hurts.

Having said this, I don’t think Morpheus is incapable of change, and I never got where that idea comes from. His biggest flaw is that he believes he cannot change (and even he has moments when he admits he might have). In the introduction to Endless Nights, Neil Gaiman says that he was once asked to describe The Sandman in twenty-five words or less, and famously, it was this (you might have heard it):

“The Lord of Dreams learns that one must change or die, and makes his decision.”

And I think some people might have wrongly taken that for an either/or thing. I don’t want to say too much at this point because I don’t know how much you know (if you’d like spoilers or already know how it ends, let me know, I’ll happily expand on it). Only so much:

He is capable of change, also in the comics. Very obviously so. But just like he denies he has his own story (which also isn’t true), he denies he can change. Or at least he thinks he perhaps cannot change enough (it’s actually hard to write about this without giving everything away, help! 🙈).

As for his feelings: He does feel, but again, it is something he pushes down and will deny himself. Until it bursts to the surface and breaks through, and when that happens, it’s usually with, well, let’s say varying results, and that’s putting it mildly. Personally, I’d say he has problems relating to his feelings, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel. Quite the opposite in my view. He holds the collective unconscious—all unprocessed feelings and whatever else floats around in that collective mess, and it’s exactly what he says to the Corinthian in that famous scene: he needs to keep a lid on it and keep that lid firmly closed so all of it doesn’t consume him. But that also means denying himself the feelings that are linked to his own personhood (if you want to call it that). There’s Dream of the Endless, and then there’s Morpheus. And while they’re one and the same and inseparable, Morpheus is also the “point of view”. The character, the person, if you will. And deep down, he craves that personhood so badly. Out of all the Endless, he is the only one who basically collects names because they mean having something beyond his function, which is also mirrored in what he tells Death in “The Sound of her Wings”: he wants something more. He is the only one whose realm is populated with sentient beings (yes, I know Despair has rats, but I think you get my drift). He is desperately lonely and struggles with it. He seeks connection yet denies it to himself. That’s not someone who doesn’t feel.

I don’t know if this answers your questions at all—I was doing the wild “spoiler-free” dance 🤣 But please let me know if you want me to go a bit deeper, I love talking about this stuff.

You can also have a look at my metas if you haven’t already. The headers pretty much explain what they’re about and what spoiler-level to expect, but none of them are truly spoiler-free I guess:

Again, thanks so much for encroaching on my inbox, and feel free to follow up if anything was left unanswered.

@dreamaturgy ask answered

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

── ANNOUNCEMENT

hi everyone!! soo this is going to be a bit of a different post for me—kind of like an announcement regarding me and this blog. it’s something i’ve been reflecting on for a while, and i recently got an ask in my inbox regarding something kinda similar, so i figured now’s the right time to address it! (it’s gonna be long, so i’m adding a cut here lolz) 

i’ve been thinking a lot about the boundaries of my blog, especially as i grow and continue exploring my own writing style, what i choose to include in my works, and what i repost or recommend here. so im gonna tackle all of that in one go as best and as clearly as i can so pls bare with me heh —

first & foremost. regarding the recent ask i received in my inbox. they brought up a fic that i reblogged the other day that included noncon themes. i want to first say right away that i do not condone or glorify nonconsensual acts in any way. i fully am aware that these are serious and sensitive issues that can be deeply triggering, and i’m truly sorry if the repost caused upset to the anon or anyone else. that said, when i choose to reblog fics, it’s always because i admire the author’s craft, their talent, their writing style, the effort put in. i’m always here to support my fellow moots and authors. enjoying a piece of writing or appreciating an author’s skill does not mean i support the actions portrayed in fiction, especially not harmful ones. fictional content can explore dark or difficult themes, but that does not equate to my real-life beliefs or values. i trust that if you are old enough to be on tumblr, you are old enough to understand the difference, but i still want to clarify my stance. this will be the only time i address this on my blog. if anyone ever feels uncomfortable with the content i post or reblog, that’s completely okay—feel free to unfollow. we’re all allowed to curate our own spaces :) 

second thing i wanted to address — my blog boundaries. this is something i’ve never really talked about officially, but it’s been on my mind lately—especially as my writing style and interests continue to grow. when i first made this blog five years ago (i was 18 and writing lighthearted sfw fics for fun—and still am lol) my content naturally drew in a similar younger audience. and even now, i’ve made a lot of amazing moots and friends that are around my age or even younger. i’ve always had my age listed on my blog, and i trust that if you’ve interacted with me, chosen to follow, or wanted to become moots, you’re aware of my age and that i’m now 23. that being said, as i grow as a writer (and as i literally grow as an adult lol) i’ve been exploring more ideas—including more mature/nsfw themes. and while my current original works are all still sfw, i’m aware that i repost content that may be nsfw and i also do plan on writing/including nsfw works in the future. so here's where i want to be super clear:

my blog isn’t labelled 18+ because my work currently is not nsfw nor will all my work in the future include nsfw themes. in fact, all my wips right now (which are clearly posted on my blog) are all sfw! (minus one but i haven't added that to my wip post yet!)

however, if and when something i post or repost is labelled nsfw or mdni, and you are underage, please do not interact with it.

i trust that you’re responsible enough to respect those boundaries. i’m not here to babysit or censor myself in my own space.

i want my blog to be a space for community, creativity, & support—but i also want to be honest about what i want to write, where i am now, & what i’ll be sharing! if any of that, including my age or the direction of the content i make/repost, makes you uncomfortable, that’s totally okay! you’re always welcome to unfollow and we can live our separate lives in peace! 

i care deeply about maintaining a safe and respectful space for everyone, but i will not limit myself nor what i want to explore. thank you for understanding <3 !

<3,  addie

[winters-blue-children]

Fic: Bleed Me Honest (Prologue)

Five times John learns about the men who changed Bucky’s life, and one time he realizes he’s one of them.” Or: the story of how this unlikely pair come together. Featuring all of my headcanons about Bucky’s relationships, a jealous, insecure Walker constantly trying to be enough, and a Bucky who’s not quite broken anymore… But sometimes the demons slip out.

AO3

(I haven't written fic in three years. But somehow WinterAgent pulled me back in. Come into my inbox and scream at me about them.)

It starts with an op born out of bad intel, and spirals into chaos the moment boots hit the ground. 

They’re four months into their tenure as the new Avengers. The team is a mess of misfits, trauma, and clashing ego (as Valentina loves to remind them), but they have each other’s backs when it matters. And while none of them are willing to admit it yet, they’re even starting to enjoy each other’s company. Except for maybe Bob, who really just gets along with everyone.

The mission goes sideways fast, and Bucky ends up taking a bullet in the back for his trouble. A high velocity round that tears straight through his tact suit and lodges itself painfully between his lower ribs. It misses his kidney, so he grunts and walks away with barely a flinch. 

“Hey—” John’s voice cuts through the sound of the firefight. “Did you just get hit—”

“I’m fine.” Bucky bites down another grunt of pain before he lifts his weapon, taking aim at the sniper that almost took one of them out. 

They still have work to do. 

They complete their mission by the skin of their teeth, and when they return to the tower—“Great work, guys. I knew you could do it!”—Bucky tries his best to slip away while Bob and Alexei high-five and the Russian tells a loud, exaggerated tale of their newest victory. 

John’s arm hooks under his right as he’s making his getaway. And that’s the side with the throbbing, bloody wound that seeps with every step he takes. 

“Infirmary. Now.” There’s zero room for argument in Walker’s voice. 

Bucky opens his mouth to do it anyway. 

“You should really get that taken care of,” Yelena says casually as she walks by, cutting him off while waving her finger in a circle in his direction. She pulls a face. “It’s really gross. You’re like, dripping on our floor.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and lets John drag him to the med floor. 

He tries not to think about the strong arm that is currently wrapped around his torso, the hard grip on his bicep, or the muscles that he can feel through their bloodied uniforms.  

He tries, anyway. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” John mutters, his voice low against the sharp clatter of the bullet hitting the metal tray. His hands are steady, despite the guilt that shows itself in the furrow of his brow. 

“Yeah, I did,” Bucky says quietly. His head is turned back to watch the other man’s hands as he works. John is methodical and careful as he cleans the wound. His years of experience in the field are clear, and this isn’t his first time tending to an injured comrade. 

Their eyes meet. Blue eyes flicker and the working fingers go still. They’re nice eyes, Bucky thinks. A different blue than the ones he sees in his dreams. A lighter blue. Much like his own. 

John drops his gaze first and presses fresh gauze against the wound as Bucky looks away.

“Sorry,” he says, when Bucky winces from the touch. But Bucky knows he wasn’t just apologizing for that. 

“I’ll be good as new by morning. You know that better than anyone.”

“I’m sorry for—” John shakes his head and looks away. “You took one for me because I wasn’t paying attention. You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“What are teammates for, John? We have each other’s backs. That’s how this works. That’s the only way this works.”

Walker knows he’s right. He closes his eyes, just for a moment. Closes them so he wouldn’t have to see all the red—on the floor, on Bucky’s discarded uniform, all the gauze soaked in red that litters the area around them… 

The guilt of letting down yet another person cuts him deep. Just like he let down Lemar, a man who trusted him. And he failed again.  

He breathes in deep through his nose, looks back up to stare at the back of Barnes’ head, and puts back on the arrogant mask that he’d spent a whole career perfecting. 

“How the hell were you going to fish a bullet out of your back?” He demands. 

Bucky chuckles and the air lightens between them. 

“I’ve had to do worse.”

John presses down a bandage and adds some extra tape for good measure. The bleeding has stopped. Bucky would be fine by morning. John’s fingers linger a second too long on warm skin, and they both feel it. 

(Later, they would argue over who made the first move. It was Bucky. Despite the man’s protests that they both reached for each other at the same time, they both knew it was Bucky. John’s no coward, but he’s not a moron either. Even he would have been too shit his pants terrified to make a move on Bucky Barnes.)

The kiss is messy and impulsive. A rough clash of lips and teeth, bruising and desperate. Bucky tears at John’s clothes, pushing away the oddly terrifying thought that invades his brain— you’re going to have to explain to Sam that you fucked John Walker.

This is the guy that Bucky hated for holding the shield. Perhaps some of that was undeserved. The pain of losing Steve was too fresh at the time. And John Walker is so much like Steve in so many ways. 

Right now, he chooses to focus on the ways that they’re different. Like the fact that John is here and Steve isn’t. 

He moans into John’s mouth when their hips touch, and he can feel how hard they both are. 

Whatever this is between them, it’s fueled by lust, adrenaline, and a thousand unsaid things between them. 

John’s mind races a thousand miles an hour. Bucky Barnes, he’s kissing Captain America’s Bucky Barnes—The same guy who just took a bullet for you—You weren’t good enough to be Captain America, you’re not good enough now for Bucky—He doesn’t want you—

“Shut up,” Bucky suddenly says, his breath hot against John’s lips.

“What?” John mumbles. 

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Oh,” John says dumbly. “Um…”

“It’s just sex.” Bucky kisses him again, kisses him hard enough to make him weak in the knees. “Don’t overthink it.”

John’s mind is still spinning, trying to keep up, in spite of all the blood rushing south. His mouth opens, gapes, but nothing comes out. 

Bucky tilts his head and studies him. “Do you want to fuck me or not?”

John blinks. “Hell, yes.”

Bucky grins a lopsided smile and thrusts a tube of lubricant into his hands. Fuck, John didn’t even notice him grab it out of the drawer. 

Bucky’s already turning himself around, undoing his belt and pants as he goes. 

Jesus, John was not prepared to fuck a man when he left for the mission today. 

(For months, in the darkness of his own room, he would fantasize about fucking Bucky Barnes while stroking his cock and telling himself if he were just given a chance, just one chance, he could fuck him better than Steve Rogers ever did.)

It’s just sex. 

It’s just sex, he repeats to himself. He’s not going to let anyone down. This is only the man that Steve Rogers fought the entire world to save. From childhood friends, to WWII soldiers, through his record-long captivity in the hands of HYDRA, surviving the fucking blip, and his final pardon. Steve did it all for Bucky Barnes, or so the tabloids say.

They were definitely fucking. And how is John going to compare against Steve in this department?

Close, but no cigar. Probably. 

John doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing, but he’s a fast study. Always has been. He starts with his fingers, and when Bucky whimpers against the infirmary bed that he’s bent over, John knows that he’s doing something right. 

When he presses himself in, feels himself enveloped by Bucky’s achingly tight heat, he has to squeeze his eyes shut just to stop himself from thrusting or coming. The vibranium hand reaches back, grips his hip hard enough to leave bruises on a super soldier. 

John’s not a small guy. He knows this and the way Bucky pants and trembles confirms it. 

The vibranium hand relaxes and drops, and then John makes it his mission to fuck Barnes so well, he wouldn’t know his own name when asked. 

(Like maybe if he does a decent enough job of it, Bucky will let him do it again.) 

John chases after every gasp, whimper, and moan. Whatever he does to make Bucky shudder and push his ass back for more, he does it again and again and again. 

He can be generous. He just wants to give Bucky what he needs. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” Bucky groans and pushes back again. “That’s so good, fuck, John—”

His name spilling from Bucky’s lips is somehow the hottest thing he’s every heard. Unbelievably, it makes his cock even harder and he sinks back in deeper than before.

“Say my name again,” he growls. “Say it again.”

And Bucky does. “John, John, please—fuck me, fuck me harder, John, you’re gonna make me come—”

John reaches below their bodies to fist his cock—already dripping. He groans as he keeps pistoning his hips. Neither of them are going to last much longer.

Bucky spills into his hand and his body gives out, collapsing onto the bed beneath him. And John follows heavily as he comes deep inside him.    

He sags against Bucky’s back. 

The afterglow is sweet but brief. John pulls back. And tries not to stare when he sees his cum dripping out of the other man’s ass. 

He’s suddenly aware of the other man’s injury and hopes that he wasn’t too rough on him. There’s no blood seeping through the bandage at least. 

Bucky takes a solid minute to recover. And in that minute, John glows with pride because he did that to Bucky Barnes.

He finally lifts himself up and turns, looking well fucked out and completely satisfied. "You did alright, Walker," Bucky drawls. 

Something deep in his stomach warms and John can’t help but smile. Like he finally managed to do something right. He snorts. "Coming from you, that's practically a love letter."

Bucky grins, one that shows teeth.

Yeah. John really likes seeing Bucky smile.

They don’t talk about it afterward. 

But it happens again.

Another mission. Tension, adrenaline, and a locked gaze in the corridor outside of Bucky’s room. 

And again. After a training session, when blood is already rushing fast, and their bodies are too close, running too hot, and there’s a mutual understanding that they make each other feel good when there’s too little of that in their lives alone. 

There’s no label to it. No promises.

They don’t talk about it. 

It works. For now. 

[keldjinfae]

Snippet Sunday

Catching up on tags and asks at an excruciatingly glacial pace (apologies to those who have had their messages/tags/asks sitting in my inbox for months, and assurances that I have not been annoyed by them in the slightest, just dealing with... A Lot). I was tagged by my mutually twisted/twisted mutual @dear-massacre, and I still have some of @renmackree (art) and my (writing) equally slow-going WIP left to share. Eventual Sterek, for now this is just Derek and his pack.

Unlike most dreams that he could simply shrug off and forget about by the time he’d gotten out of bed, Derek’s hands clenched around the empty space between them, trying to physically hold onto what had just been there moments before. He knew in the blood and the bones of him that the raven had been real, real and his, and that he had been taken away from Derek before: “he is yours, and our wait is nearly over.” Whoever awaited him in the City of Bones, the Trickster had also given Derek the warning that his time to act was running out.

“Uh… Derek?” Isaac’s soft voice called out uncertainly from just outside the entrance of the tent.

Derek blew out a breath, his eyes still on his hands as he forced them to relax. “It’s fine,” he answered, his voice still rough from slumber. “Everything’s fine,” he repeated, to reassure himself just as much as Isaac. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up into a sitting position at the same time Isaac ducked his head in through the panels of the tent.

The beta’s hunched shoulders were only partly because of the awkward height of the tent—after spending so much time as another pack’s scapegoat, Isaac still had moments when he expected his alpha to lash out if he was too loud, or too slow, or didn’t somehow anticipate Derek’s every need. Derek ran a hand through his hair and over his face, feeling how rough and unkempt he must’ve looked underneath his palm, and made sure to keep his shoulders as relaxed and nonthreatening as possible. He felt the typical stirring of his own anger on behalf of his mistreated betas simmer down when Isaac managed to relax just as quickly as he’d tensed up. “I would’ve just let you keep sleeping, but you started growling loud enough to make people nervous,” Isaac explained, without any indication that he’d been intimidated, too.

Derek exhaled slowly, his brows pinched together over pursed lips, then nodded his gratitude. Isaac took his lack of a verbal response as an invitation to enter the tent completely, sitting down in front of Derek in the small space, and reassuring his alpha as well as himself that his past was still decidedly in the past. “Did she have anything good to say? Or helpful? Like guard shift rotations or addresses or something?” Derek’s sardonic snort of laughter made Isaac’s mouth twitch upwards in a show of pride, before mellowing again, awaiting an answer.

“If that’s how her messages worked, maybe I wouldn’t hate them so much,” Derek said ruefully, rubbing the side of his face again before stretching out his stiff arms. Isaac’s brow quirked, but he otherwise waited for Derek to parse things together himself. “She said there’s someone I’ll want to look for. In the Citadel,” he clarified, when Isaac likely started to say that they already knew about his sisters, since they were already there for them in the first place. “And that she wouldn’t wait any longer for me to find him. Or couldn’t,” he corrected, frowning.

“Him?” Isaac repeated, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Him who?”

“I don’t…” Derek breathed in again, lowering his voice to better ensure that they weren’t overheard by anyone outside the thick hide of the tent. “I don’t know, but I will when I see him.”

“Will you?” Isaac asked, dubious. His eyes flitted over Derek, not quite meeting his as he kept his tone carefully neutral. “You’re sure it’s not just a—you know—trick?”

Derek was already shaking his head before Isaac had finished the question. “No. No, it didn’t feel like a trap—” even if he’d been led into an all but literal dead end “—for me. It didn’t feel like one for me.” He looked down at his hands again, recalling the raven pecking away at his fingers as he tried to free him. “I think he’s already trapped, and she wants me to get him out.”

“And we’re, what, just supposed to find some random guy in the Citadel—maybe in the Citadel—while we’re also trying to get your sisters back?” Isaac’s voice remained hushed, but he was now slouching forward, his gray eyes narrowed shrewdly. “How little time do you think we have?”

Derek grimaced, recalling the flooding, collapsing tower, as well as the vague sense of pain and terror that suggested none of them had made it out of the dream unscathed, or even alive. “About the same as we had before,” he said, frowning down at the space between them as he sought a way to explain that the terror he’d felt had come from being too late to save the raven; that he’d known even as the Glass stabbed into him that he was dreaming, and would simply wake up. “The message wasn’t an ultimatum; it was a warning.”

“A warning,” Isaac echoed, rubbing his knuckles against his bottom lip while he continued to watch Derek closely, “or an offering? It’s not an ultimatum, but we can’t just leave anymore if we don’t think we can pull it off, can we?” He drew his lip between his teeth, moving his hand up to tug at his thick hair instead. After a few seconds, he shrugged, even if he was still hunched forward. “We were already wondering why she decided to help us. At least now we know.”

Derek wasn’t aware he’d been carrying tension in his frame until it seeped out of him in a wave of relief. “If you want to stay out here, now that the plan has changed—”

“What I want is to crush both twins’ skulls with my bare hands,” Isaac cut him off, his tone just as quiet as Derek’s, but firmly matter-of-fact. His eyes glinted with bloodlust as he flashed his alpha a grin, his teeth bared like he was already gorging on a kill. “I can settle for never having to see them again.”

“And none of it will matter anyway if we don’t make it past the city gates,” Erica spoke up suddenly, muffled and muzzy from where she was curled up against Boyd, still more asleep than awake. Boyd’s gaze was already fixed on them, and likely had been for a while, his expression revealing nothing. Before Derek could assess what the rest of his pack felt, Erica yawned and sat up, her limbs stretching out until they popped as she glanced around her. “Where’s Jackson?” she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes.

“He went to go find some ‘real food’ at one of the stands—take the man out of the city,” Isaac joked with a snort before sobering. “He’s also checking to see if he knows any of the guards at the gates; figures it’ll at least give us an idea of how much convincing we’ll need to do to get in.”

I don't know who else has already been tagged or who's currently working on anything, but zero-pressure tags for @nerdherderette @vmures @seaweed-water @ephemeronidwrites @thotpuppy and anyone else who wants to share!