#This entire winter's just been absolutely miserable

[solradguy]

There have been a lot of days recently where I'm scrolling through GG tags/feeds and it just isn't fun. I'm too involved, I think; I need to find some other way to distract myself when I'm bored before I explode

[matchavellichor]

A Losing Game

A/N: was in the mood to write pure filth so here's some jealous sebastian smut lul. also i left the context intentionally vague so that i could maybe write a prequel sometime but i hope it's clear they absolutely hate each other loool

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - NSFW - 4.4k words - ao3

Summary: Watching his long-time rival and dueling partner kiss someone else ignites feelings in Sebastian that has him questioning just how similar hate is to desire.

Tags: Yule Ball, Enemies to Lovers, Pining Sebastian, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Mild Prey/Predator, No Safeword

For the first time in their many years of friendship, Sebastian is the one being dragged to a social event he has no interest in being a part of. Ominis, taking no small amount of pleasure in this, leads them into the Great Hall with an amused smirk on his face, only biting his tongue because he’s respectful of present company. Sebastian frowns.

His robes are scratchy, his date is doused in a nausea-inducing amount of flowery perfume, and there’s not nearly enough firewhiskey in the spiked punch this year.

He tells himself pointedly, as if it’s a matter of public record, that he isn’t looking for her.

Even as his eyes comb over the crowd, and there’s a little pang of disappointment in his gut when he still doesn’t spot her after the third sweep.

“Stop sulking,” Ominis murmurs from beside him. “You look miserable.”

Sebastian proceeds to sulk even more. “How would you know how I look?”

“I’m blind, not oblivious.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table the blonde had chosen and preparing himself for an entire night of brooding.

He’d have no qualms in remaining seated in their desolate little corner for the entirety of the evening, but his date—Bianca or Beatrice or, maybe something with a D—has other plans.

She titters something about dancing, and then she’s suddenly tugging on his arm and dragging him towards parquet floors. In no mood to protest, he lets himself get weaved through pairs of students who are doing anything but respecting Headmaster’s Black rule to maintain a Potions textbook length apart.

So much for leaving room for Merlin.

He manages a tight-lipped smile when they stop under a cloud charmed to sprinkle snowflakes, small flurries of white blending into a halo around them. It’s a truly beautiful sight, a winter wonderland of silver and gold englobing them, yet despite this, Sebastian’s demeanor is tight and forced, starkly unhappy.

He pretends he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind his sour mood. Pretends he isn’t thinking about someone else’s hands, someone else’s smell, someone else’s eyes, and the obvious absence of them.

Sebastian feels dreadfully pathetic clinging to the prospect of even simply seeing her as a motivator to suffer through the remainder of the night.

He wonders when he became such a pining, spineless idiot and deduces it must’ve been somewhere during the first dozen times she’d knocked him on his ass in a duel. Surely, a screw was knocked loose then. Or a couple.

Sebastian swallows his displeasure and takes hold of a hand that’s not the right size, that doesn’t have the calluses and rough edges in the places he’s already far too familiar with. It’s easy to fall into pace, but it’s hard to enjoy it. Hard to pretend he’s dancing with someone else.

It’s then, glancing over his date’s shoulder through the haze of floating candles and snowflakes, that he finally catches sight of what he has decidedly not been thinking about all evening.

From the way he stills and all his attention narrows in on one person, you’d think Salazar Slytherin himself just made an appearance butt-naked on a unicycle.

Breath-taking is an understatement. Asphyxiating might be a more valiant contender. Sebastian would be impressed with himself if he managed to get enough oxygen in his lungs to keep his brain functioning for an entire night of staring at her across dance floors.

His eyes comb over every inch of the blood red floor-length gown she has on, head-to-toe, gaze rising to dust over the blush high on her cheekbones, even further up to the gems crested in her hair.

He takes a deep, fortifying breath, though it doesn’t do him any good.

Then, his attention narrows in on the person accompanying her and it’s like his stomach immediately pitches, falls down six flights of stairs, and subsequently plummets into a dark abyss, landing at the bottom with a pathetic, defeated sort of sound.

Because her arm is tucked into the crook of someone else’s elbow, and she’s smiling at something someone else is whispering in her, and despite being only a few feet away at this point, she doesn’t even spare a glance at Sebastian.

Instead, she drapes an arm around her date’s neck, which he reciprocates with a hand at the small of her back, pulls their bodies closer and—

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to look, turning away from what feels like betrayal, though he knows is the farthest thing from it.

Maybe that’s what feels the worst. What makes his mouth taste so bitter he could gag from it. It’s the realization that he has no right to feel so upset about any of it. That he can’t expect anything from her.

That she isn’t his.

His shoulders stiffen and he suddenly stops any movements, letting his hands drop from where they were rested at a chiffon-covered waist, stepping away.

His date calls his name, emitting some cross between a petulant whine and indignant scoff, but he doesn’t really hear her. He’s busy high-tailing towards the drink table and doing the mental math for how many teal-coloured glasses of spiked punch he’ll have to drink to self-induce a coma.

Ominis, with his hell-anointed sixth sense, meets him three-quarters of the way there, falling into step as they weave through pairs of students.

“This is your own doing, you know.”

He’s right, yet Sebastian would still throttle him if there weren’t so many witnesses around. He ignores him.

“Sebastian,” Ominis sighs. “You’re being childish.”

“You aren’t helping.”

“I’m not trying to,” Ominis says. “I thought I’d already made myself clear that I was on her side concerning this.”

Sebastian scowls. “Some friend you are.”

“All you had to do was ask her.”

“Asking her is admitting defeat,” Sebastian mutters over the rim of the glass he just poured himself. “She wouldn’t have ever let me live it down.”

“I don’t understand this game you two play,” Ominis frowns. “Would it have been so hard for you to humble yourself for just a moment?”

Sebastian takes a long drink. “Yes. In front of her, it would’ve been.”

“Then enjoy watching her dance with someone else for the remainder of the evening.”

Sebastian has just about decided to actually throttle Ominis, witnesses be damned, but he’s already making his way back into the crowd, out of reach.

Sebastian groans, yet doesn’t go after him. Refuses to.

From his position on the outskirts of the dance floor, he’s in blissful ignorance of whatever it is she’s doing at the moment. Despite the curiosity eating away at him from the inside, it’s some form of solace that at least he can’t see the smile he’d caught on her face. Can’t see the glow in her eyes, or her hands on her date’s robes, or all the affection he craves so ardently misdirected towards someone else.

Somehow, it’s worse.

And then, as if Fortune, on his damned quarry smiling, has decided Sebastian hasn’t endured enough for one pitiful night already, the steady crescendo of a waltz begins to build.

The crowd pulses and sways in tempo with the symphony, leaving breaches and eyelets, brief openings that he can’t tear his eyes away from, because even if it hurts, he needs to see her again.

That’s how he catches sight of her for the second time that evening. Like the seas parting to reveal a miracle, she finds herself right in his line of vision.

Sebastian conveys the tightening he feels in his chest into an ice-cold glower, features hardened. He prays she’ll just look. Even if it’s something fleeting, a split second of a glance.

Once again, her eyes never make their way anywhere near him.

It’s almost intentional, in a way that drives him insane. As if she knows where he is, and she’s skirting over him pointedly, antagonistically. Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if it were intentional, a gleaming testimony to all the other ways she manages to get under his skin.

The dancing body of students continues to shift, like a pendulum, back and forth, revealing and concealing. He clings to the momentary sight of her, and still, like a fool, hopes that at some instance she’ll look back. Acknowledge him.

Give him some form of recognition so he doesn’t have to admit defeat so quickly. So that he knows that they’re still playing their game, that he’s not just losing alone.

The composition nears its apex, surrounding gowns and robes reaching a swirling mass of glitter and silks, and something heavy sinks inside of him, an impending sense of foreboding.

He knows what’s coming, somehow.

The orchestra finally reaching its climax.

Her fingers threading through the hairs at the nape of her date’s neck.

Her leaning forward, nose slotting against his, lips hovering over another’s and yet—

He doesn’t look away. Even if it feels like being split open, sternum cracked across the middle, until he’s left with a slick-red, yawning chest cavity.

He can’t look away, because her eyes are open and for the first time in the entire evening, they’re meeting his.

Like most instances involving her, he isn’t sure if he’s winning or losing anymore.

She doesn’t look away, and he can’t bring himself to either. It’s like he’s standing there, split from top to bottom, voluntarily exposed for her to prod at, to ruin. And yet, there’s a bittersweetness to it all.

Her lips aren’t on his, yet she’s looking at him as if she wishes they were.

There’s something taunting in her eyes. Something he might’ve mistaken as a threat if they were in their usual setting, mid-duel in the Undercroft.

A challenge.

It takes him a moment to realize that context shouldn’t matter. This is an invitation for battle, a glaring provocation. He stares.

The sight of her mouth on someone else’s makes bile rise in his throat, makes him so filled with rage and revulsion that he thinks he might suffocate on it all. Yet the sight of her eyes, the sheer amount of longing she’s able to convey in such a short glance, is enough to invigorate him, to channel all his rage and wanting into something else.

His legs move of their own accord.

Her reflexes are as sharp as they are in battle.

The second she sees him coming towards her, she reacts. Murmurs a hurried apology towards her date, who looks so confused Sebastian would almost feel bad for the bloke if he didn’t want to strangle him so violently.

She’s immediately cutting through the crowd towards the opposite direction, her eyes trained on one of the exits. He picks up his speed, but she’s quicker than him, smaller, able to duck through bunches of students with ease, even with her dress hindering her movements.

Adrenaline trickles up his spine. She throws him another glance over her shoulder and smirks, sly and knowing, a look that writhes under his skin in the way her glances always do.

Even if he’s the one chasing her, Sebastian feels awfully like the rodent in their little game of cat and mouse.

They both step into the quiet of the dimly-lit hallway, the sounds of the party bleeding away as the door shuts behind them, casting them in silence.

There’s a split moment where she spins around to look at him, chest heaving. The live-wire tension between them is pulled so taut it’s a miracle the air doesn’t crackle with static.

Neither of them move for a long moment, until her lips curl into a smile.

She breaks into a run and Sebastian doesn’t miss a beat.

He chases after her, his heart pounding with something primal, something instinctive. Like his self-control might slip away from him when he catches her, like he might just sink his teeth into soft flesh, dig his nails into supple skin. She runs as if she’s just as aware of this fact as he is.

He almost wants to punish her for it. Bite and scratch and mark as if in vengeance for her thinking she could ever get away from him. For her forgetting that she’s anything but his, as if she should simply know it by now.

She’s fast, but she’s nearly tripping over the dress she has fisted in her hands, and her heels don’t help. All it takes is for her to stumble around a corner and he’s on her, grabbing her gown, pulling her towards him.

He spins her around, and she grunts when he slams her against the wall. Teeth bared, strands of the elegant updo she’d had her hair in falling down over her shoulders, glittery makeup smeared down her cheeks — she looks like something savage.

For some reason, it makes something deep-set inside Sebastian ache.

“Let go,” she grits, struggling against the hold he has on her wrists, under the weight of his body that has her molded to the wall.

His grip only tightens, frustration simmering low in his gut. Sebastian has never known desire like this, shadowed by fury. Want and anger, love and hate, repulsion and obsession.

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses.

She stills her thrashing in favor of looking up at him through her lashes with an expression so innocent, it’s crucifying.

“Attending a dance?”

His jaw sets. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why, are you having a hard time keeping up?”

He stares at her for a long moment, jaw working in tandem with his thoughts. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and she tilts her head, amused at how worked up he’s gotten.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says.

“And what’s that?”

“Thinking about how badly you want to kill me, probably,” she says. Her eyes fall to his lips and his breath stops in his throat. “Or kiss me. Haven’t quite worked out which one yet.”

“So certain that they’re mutually exclusive,” he murmurs, his gaze falling to mimic hers despite himself. “I think you forget that I’m very multi-faceted.”

“That I’m aware of,” she tilts her chin up, almost as if inviting him to press his mouth to hers, a siren’s call. “You manage to be mind-numbingly stupid and brilliantly obnoxious, all at the same time.”

He scoffs. “And you manage to be the most infuriating person on the planet.”

She seems starkly proud of the title. “What can I say, I invoke passion.”

“You invoke homicidal thoughts.”

“Not the only kinds of thoughts I invoke in you, is it, Sallow?”

He reddens. He’s spent too many showers hunched over his own fist with silencing charms plastered around the tiles for his response to be anything more than a blurted, evocative reaction.

“Anything you think I feel for you is precisely the opposite. I fucking despise you.”

He only notes a split second after that it’s not an outright denial.

Evidently, so does she. Because then, as if she were made to crawl under his skin, writhe underneath it until his nerves were a mess, she smiles.

What he truly despises is how pretty he finds it.

“You don’t hate me.”

He sneers. “Is that so?”

“Hate isn’t the opposite of love. Indifference is,” she leans in. “And I’d hardly call chasing me through the castle simply because I kissed someone else…indifferent.”

He decides then — or more accurately, his too-horny, too-angry, too-impulsive brain decides for him — to wipe the pleased grin off her face the most effective way he knows how.

With a hand fisted in her hair and his mouth crashing against hers.

It isn’t tender or sweet, nor the remotest definition of kind, but it’s fitting and dreadfully familiar, because it’s not like they’ve ever been nice to one another.

He lets go of her wrists to give her some fighting chance, because he’s cruel, but he prides himself on being fair. Instead of pushing him away, or going for her wand, or doing anything to indicate she doesn’t want this, however, she pulls him in. As if she knows exactly how to bring him to his knees, in any and all contexts, and revels in any opportunity to destroy him.

He almost thinks it’s a trap, another one of her grating ploys, but when she tangles her fingers in his hair and drags her nails down his scalp and kisses him back with just as much fervor as he does, it’s hard to believe it’s simply a farce.

Her tongue finds his and Sebastian wonders if they’ll ever do anything together that doesn’t mimic a battle. She fights for dominance in every stroke of her tongue against his, and his stubbornness refuses to grant her it.

“Fuck,” he groans against her mouth, because he’s learning just how much she kisses the same way she duels.

Dirty, unfair, brutal. Like she’s never been afraid of blood, or getting messy, or breaking things.

She stokes a fire that’s been simmering inside him until it’s red-hot and all-consuming, flames licking at the inside of his throat. He pulls her bottom lip between his teeth and bites until he tastes copper, finding some sick form of satisfaction at the pained little whine she lets out.

“You kissed him,” he pants, and there’s something raw in his voice. He rests his forehead against hers and stares at the crimson pooling on her lip. “You kissed him.”

She swallows. “I did.”

Sebastian despises how hurt he sounds. “I could kill him.”

“You won’t.”

“I could.”

“I know,” she nods, chest heaving against his. Her voice grows suddenly soft, until it’s barely a whisper. “I wanted it to be you.”

He groans, almost pained. “Did you?”

She nods.

“Has he ever touched you?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell the truth,” he says, fingers threading through the tangled remains of her chignon, tilting her face up towards him so he can meet her eyes. “Did you let him touch you?” He presses a leg between her thighs, barely able to feel her through layers of tulle. “Here?”

“No,” she gasps from the contact, nails scrambling to drag down his forearm. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, and tips his head down to press against her throat, drags his lips over her jaw. ��Only me, hm? Say it.”

She shakes her head and his gaze darkens, pulling back to tighten his fingers still tangled in her hair, to tear a whimper from the back of her throat.

“No? Who then?”

“No one,” she whispers, and despite the tight angle her neck is at, despite the fear dancing behind her eyes, she smiles up at him again. “You haven’t touched me yet, though, have you?”

She’s baiting him, and he’s aware of it, and still it manages to work.

He feels his self-restraint slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sand. There’s traces of scarlet on her teeth he wants to drag his tongue over. He wants to suck the marrow from her bones.

He spins her around, presses her cheek into the cool flagstone of the corridor they’re in, and molds his body to hers.

“S-shit,” she curses when his patience wears thin and he yanks at the fabric hiding her body away from his, pulling at the skirt of her gown until it rips. “Asshole.”

“Looks better this way.”

His fingers coast up her thighs to hook into her knickers, tugging them down before she can protest. She gasps and he smiles against her cheek, pushing her hand away when she tries to cover herself.

He nips at her ear, his hand reaching between her legs to cup her sex, reveling in the way she tries to squirm away from him.

“What’s wrong? Going to act shy now?”

“Someone could see,” she grits, though something in her tone tells him she’s not going to stop him.

“Wouldn’t they be lucky.”

His breath stutters when he finally dips his fingers between her folds and finds how soaked she is. Something about the revelation is dizzying, the notion that she could possibly want this as badly as he does. He grinds his hips into her arse so she’s just as aware of how gone he is.

Immediately, his hand is fumbling with his belt, the other pressing bruises into her hip to keep her still. He kicks her feet open wider, spreading her for him. His fingers flex on her hip in anticipation.

“You have full permission to use any Unforgivables you want on me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He groans. “You’re not getting me off of you in any other way.”

When she doesn’t make any move for her wand he positions himself at her entrance, rubbing to coat himself in her fluids. Her breathing is heavy against the wall she’s pressed against, her gasps coming out in soft little pants. He revels in them for a long moment.

Then, he’s impaling her and all of her breathing stops. Replaced instead by a strangled sort of sound, as if he’d managed to knock out all of the air in her lungs with a single thrust. His jaw falls slack.

He manages to composure himself enough to murmur in her ear, voice hoarse. “Hurts?”

She chokes out a sob, nodding weakly. Her head falls against the wall, clenching around him as she tries to adjust to his size.

His hips snap forward again, even harsher this time, burying himself to the hilt and tearing a yelp out of her throat. “Good.”

“S–Sebastian—”

He pauses, so deep inside her he can feel every little pulse, hips flush against her arse. “Want me to stop?”

Miraculously, she shakes her head. It’s never like her to back down from a fight, after all.

“Of course,” he chuckles, though it sounds uncharacteristically strained, imprecise. Like he’s losing his grip. His head falls to her shoulder and he moans, grunting feverishly against her skin as he starts a brutal, unforgiving pace. “You can take it. Look so pretty taking it.”

“Please,” she whines. “Too much, I–I can’t,”

“You’re a tough girl,” he whispers, tone vicious despite his words. “You’re going to shut your fucking mouth and take my cock.”

She nods fervently, obediently, and Sebastian thinks he deserves a medal for not finishing right then. He yanks her hips back from the wall, shifting the angle and she gasps when he feels him push in even deeper.

“Oh my God,” she moans. “Good — feels s’good, yes, yes. Plea–please don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, voice sandpaper-rough. He snakes a hand to her front to rub tight little circles between her legs. “Look at you babbling. Dumb little cock-drunk slut. Can’t even think properly with me inside you like this, can you?”

Her response is too garbled for coherence, a mess of moans and pleas. He groans in a way that’s almost just as saturated with desperation, that tells her she’s not alone in her unraveling. He pulls her head back to smash his lips to her, stifling all kinds of confessions that threaten to escape him.

She breaks the kiss to gasp for air and his fingers swirl against her just right. She tightens. “Gonna — m‘gonna cum,”

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” his voice breaks on the word, and he’s aware he’s practically begging. He’s too far gone to care, so he scrapes a kiss to her heat-flushed cheek and properly pleads.

“Please. So fucking beautiful. Let me see your pretty face when you come undone for me,” he stares down at her through half-lidded eyes and briefly contemplates the possibility that he’s died and gone to heaven when she looks back at him. “That’s it, look at me.”

He studies her as he sends her over the edge and pulls himself over along with her, her lashes fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes on his.

The sight is enough to ruin him.

Her makeup a mess from the tear tracks running through them, the hair fisted in his hands in an even worse state, and somehow— she still manages a lopsided smile, as if beyond pleased with herself.

He’s faintly aware of the fact she’s won. He makes peace with the realization.

There’s nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing to fill the silence in the hallway as Sebastian tries to regain his bearings, still buried inside her. Neither of them move for a long moment, and Sebastian likens it to the peace following a war, a brief period of prosperity.

He’s conscious that it’s temporary.

She winces when he finally pulls out of her, their shared spend trickling down the insides of her thighs, her knees nearly giving out to the point he has to hold her up, even if his own legs feel dreadfully unstable.

It doesn’t take her long for her to detach her body from his own, to duck under his arm and slip away. Panic suddenly seizes his chest, dread trickling up his spine. For some reason, he can’t bear to watch her leave. He opens his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe—but she beats him to it.

“That was fun,” she says plainly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. It’s as if they’d just finished another duel. Hardly anything to bat an eye at. Sebastian is at a remarkable loss for words.

She hasn’t continued down the hallway, but she looks as if she’s prepared to.

He’s faintly aware of the fact he probably looks like a fish right now, jaw still slack.

When he doesn’t say anything, she turns her attention to righting her underthings and fixing the tattered remains of her gown. He watches her.

“Goodnight, Sebastian.”

Suddenly sprung to life by the threat of her absence, he takes a step forward. “I’ll walk you back.”

She snorts. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Unless, you’d like to, uh,” he stares down at his shoes, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I could transfigure something for us in the Undercroft.”

She looks amused. “My god, you’re insatiable.”

He reddens. “I didn’t mean—oh, Salazar, to sleep…I meant to sleep.”

She turns to face him fully and raises her brows. “You’re asking me if I’d like to forego my own bed in order to spend the night with you in a dusty cellar?”

Mortification washes over him. Why would she? He should’ve kept his mouth shut and walked her to her dorm room instead of deluding himself with the notion that this could’ve been anything more than a quick fuck.

She stares at him expectantly and his fingers twitch at his side with the desire to grab his wand and promptly Avada himself.

It’s then that she decides to saunter over to him, taking her time, until she’s right beside him and can tuck her arm into his. She gestures forward, almost impatient.

“Go on then. I’m little spoon.”

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

fic recs masterlist pt 2

So here's a part two to my first fic rec list because I thought the first list was too long to add more or I've only read them more recently

Haikyuu!

you're all i see, you're all i need by DailyMelody: iwaoi fic where iwaizumi lies to his family that he and oikawa are dating and he slowly realizes they haven't been faking their feelings, nsfw in the last chapter

Sprout, Bloom, Grow by SpaceJammie: matsuhana and iwaoi fic from the perspective of matsukawa, this is probably my fav hq I'm keeping up with rn, the characterizations and story are so deep and well written, unfinished

Let the Light Out by UhohShouto: post canon kagehina fic where kageyama realizes he's super into hinata and they make a bet that leads to them smooching and doing much more, nsfw

what i really mean by solyn: kuroken fic where they're both sort of clueless about their feelings while everyone else around them knows they're in love, nsfw

it drives you crazy getting old by atsumusbiceps: a sakuatsu 13 Going On 30 au that's absolutely adorable, omi is in love from the beginning but atsumu thinks being angry and attracted to someone is normal

Gray in the Middle. by DeadDrabble (MisakillDatMonkey): crazy good sunaosa fic where suna is a model and osamu is his new assistant, the development of their friendship while osamu slowly gets to see the real suna and coming to see the toxicity of the fashion industry, unfinished, future nsfw

Sakusa Kiyoomi's Short and Unhelpful Guide To Falling In Love by honest_pebble: sakuatsu fic where omi asks for atsumu to kiss one drunken night and they can't seem to keep their hands off each other in the months after

i pretend you're mine, all the damn time by theglitterati: bokuaka high school fic where bokuto is nervous about his lack of experience when a girl asks him out so he asks akaashi to help him learn how to kiss, very cute and silly

sleeping with strangers by starbeyy: kagehina fic where kageyama is a lawyer that's afraid of attachment and only sleeps with strangers until he gets an extremely cute client that makes him less afraid, nsfw in later chapters

Take a hint by badreputation: sunaosa fic where suna doesn't realize osamu is trying to woo him and is just an oblivious dummy

i sing the body electric by viverella: iwaoi getting together fic where iwaizumi beings to realize he doesn't have entirely platonic feelings about his best friend

dearly departed by radiantradish: daisuga ghost au where suga is stuck in limbo while he's in a coma and daichi is a firefighter that keeps dreaming about him

Winter is Red by MeikoAtsushi: technically this is the sunaosa spin-off to their original sakuatsu fic but the premise is that osamu can see the red threads of fate that tie soulmates together but he doesn't have one and falls in love with suna anyway, this fic is fucking PAINFUL because osamu is determined to make his life miserable and try to push suna away but he can never stay away for long, nsfw

the posterior probablity by izayas: sakuatsu au where omi is a professor and atsumu is an m.d. who's taking his class and they fall in love lol

SunKissed by Paintbrushyy_Ducky98: bokuaka fic where akaashi's family's new pool boy is really cute and he sort of seems familiar... nsfw

favor from the boy you can't resist by crossbelladonna: bokuaka fic where bokuto asks akaashi to be his fake boyfriend and things go as well as you'd expect

Miles by lettersinpetals: kuroken post canon/during chapter 402.1 fic where kuroo is very aware of his love for kenma but is convinced kenma doesn't feel the same

Night Moves by fluorophoring: kuroken fic where they just keep hooking up at night without actually dating or discussing their feelings, heavy nsfw

What to Do (to You) by Mooifyourecows: iwaoi fic where matsuhana set them up on a blind date despite already being roommates and having crushes on each other, nsfw

take me the way i am by almostsophie1: kuroken fic where kuroo wants to know if kenma is willing to have sex with him just to "practice", nsfw obviously

spill my guts by wasted: bokuaka fic where akaashi is a massive pining simp and doesn't know what to do about his crush

Legend Has It by sifuhotman: sunaosa crime au??? i literally think about this fic all the time and how it's not finished, such an interesting plot with osamu as a detective and suna is a con artist who has connections to some underground crime syndicates, the last chapter posted legit made me cry, i really identify with osamu in this fic, nsfw in later chapters

Miscellaneous

Apple of Your Eye by Kattythingz: sk8 renga fic but it's if Adam became obsessed with Reki instead of Langa, highkey NUTS how good Adam's characterization is because you want to bash his skull in with a hammer

A Crown of Gems and Gold by Kattythingz: fma edling fic that's basically a rewrite of the entire series but if edling got together soon after their first meeting, the best characterization, action, and dialogue ever utilized in writing, unfinished but ongoing

Always an Angel, Never a God by oktsukki: jjk satosugu au where hidden inventory didn't end as bad as they did in canon, a lot of good healing and characterization

lights out by phollie: hxh killugon fic where killua is just very soft about gon as gon shows him around the island he grew up on

Sword of Damocles by orphan_account: mp100 terumob au fic where teruki asks mob out as a joke but he actually starts to fall for him

[whillywisp]

Part 2 of Finnick being the most amazing dad/doting husband because I'm sure this is just therapy for my darlings with daddy issues and, well, issues🌱

Warnings: a little long, a little angstier today, implied mention of what happened to finnick. But still as fluffy as yesterday.

Part 1 ☁︎

If Finnick was caring and terrified during the pregnancy, multiply that by ten thousand and that's him postpartum. This man was convinced the very air his family breathed was out to get them. He refused to sleep because he was scared something would happen if he dared to get some rest but after you very gently (you yelled) explained to him that he cannot stay up for three nights straight because no Finnick the baby doesn't need to be held twenty five-eight please for the love of god get some damn sleep, he finally got some rest.

Recovering from pregnancy is a whole other nightmare but he made it bearable. Finnick's favourite thing in the entire world, as previously stated, was taking care of you. So you know he was at your beck and call round the clock. He helped you shower, helped you move around, stayed up with you during night time feedings so you wouldn't feel alone. He cooked every meal and made sure you had everything needed within an arm's reach. Sometimes you were so overcome with love for him that you would tug him close and pepper his face with kisses because where on earth would you find someone as gentle and caring and loving in this miserable world as this angel right here? Nowhere thank you.

But it was seeing him with her that had you convinced you saved a country in your last life (well, in this life and while it was group effort—) to be able to witness something so pure and gentle.

Finnick held his little girl like he she was made of the finest glass and would disappear if he so much as breathed too loud near her. His wide eyes traced every movement, every twitch of a muscle, every breath your baby took. If her little hand curling around his made his pretty eyes gloss over, you absolutely saw it and you made sure to tease him about, for which you were met with embarassed smiles but no denials. He wasn't ashamed of loving his family and least of all his baby girl.

But every spring came stained grey from winter's shadow, still lingering around the corner as if seeking spring's warmth too. And Finnick's past, to him, felt a bit like that.

What happened to Finnick was not a secret he carried in his pocket folded up with a list of names who still bragged of their contribution to his survival or hidden behind forced smiles anymore. What happened to Finnick was public and while he is as not at all at fault for it, humiliation and self-hatred didn't have a mind of its own and regardless of the circumstances and the people that were at fault for everything, he still blamed himself, he still dreaded the day his baby, his entire world, found out what happened. And he told you about it of course.

"What if...what if she hates me?"

You looked up from the book you had been reading, glancing at him where he lay on his back. Your daughter, now nine months old, fast asleep on his chest and your voice a little incredulous as you whisper back. "I'm not sure if you noticed but she worships the ground you walk on."

The smile he gives you is forlorn and pressed into the top of your daughter's head. He blinked, looking away from you and in the blink of an eye you had dropped your book, uncaring where it landed and gently craddled his face in your hands, wiping away tears that stained his emrald green eyes.

"Angel—"

"I don't want her to find out," he sniffed, tightening his arms around your daughter, taking a shuddering breath before continuing. "I do-don't want her to find out. She'll hate me. She'll think I'm so weak. I was so weak."

You sighed, gently pressing a kiss to his forehead before wiping away tears that escaped his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Rage and grief burned in your heart with vengeance and you wished, not for the first time, the need to rip those wealthy capitolites to shreds with your bare hands, to make these vile people disappear, praying they'd take the pain they inflicted on him away with them.

But instead you used the same hands and pulled him close, letting him cry into your chest as you wrapped your arms around him and your daughter, whispering quietly but firmly to him. "Finnick Odair, those years of you life were bleak. Those years of your life were harsh. And you were a lot of things during them: broken, hurt, abused. But you weren't weak. You survived, you made sure to survive because you knew you needed to survive to be free. That was your way of winning. And if we raise this baby right, she'll love you regardless, hell even more, when she finds out. I love you and I agree with you on just about everything. But this, this I refuse to because the man i married, the boy I fell for, is a survivor."

He peered at you through wet lashes, sniffling softly as he pressed a kiss to your chest and then the top of your daughter's head: his quiet way of saying 'I love you. Thank you for being my light.' You let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding, tightening your arms around your family.

You weren't lying when you said your daughter worshipped the ground he walked on. He was her hero. She followed him around the house since the minute she started crawling, screamed for him every morning and only calmed down when he picked her up and out of crib and in the most Finnick fashion, loved you in her gentle ways. She got that from me, he would say smugly as you had to eat another fistful of mushed baby food because of course your daughter picked that her way to show her love for you after having seen Finnick feed you fruit earlier. You would glare at him over her little sprout hair, identical to the one his hair was tied into on her highness' orders, your heart threatening to explode in your chest from the sheer amount of love it was filled with.

Your daughter was not only growing up to be the most precious child in the world, but she was also terrifyingly bright and understanding, even at such an young age. On days she noticed Finnick's need to be quiet or when he was too overwhelmed by everything, you noticed her making a conscious effort to stay quiet and keep her noises to a minimum. If Finnick needed time alone, she wouldn't bother him but spent her time with you, telling you about how daddy needs his quiet time and you had to hold onto the cushion behind you on the couch to hold back from crying, completely baffled at and extremely grateful that you both were raising an angel like her. But you weren't all that surprised when you thought about it a little more deeply. She was, after all, her daddy's little girl.

The day she starts kindergarten feels like the most emotional episode of the worst soap opera possible because you woke up to them...crying. And saying their goodbyes as he tearfully packed her lunch and did her hair, as if she was off to war. And it took quite a while to coax them both out of the house because I love you both but we cannot be late on the first day you guys please. But on the walk to kindergarten it was peaceful and full of laughter, because they could both pretend this was just their morning walk.

But of course, the tears were back when the gates closed with the promise of keeping them separated for three hours.

"What if she gets hungry and can't open the lunch box?"

You frowned looking up at him, shaking your head. You both were standing outside the gates to the school along with other worried parents, some taking a break from said worrying to side eye you both, something you had learned to tune out years ago.

"Finnick, she showed us she can open the lunch box just fine before we left home."

"But what if she can't here?" He insisted, looking down at you like you were the insane one for not considering that scenario. You sighed, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from the gates, trying to ease his worries.

"I promise you if she needs help with that, she will ask her teacher," you smiled at him, pecking his lips gently to stop him when he opens his mouth to voice another bizarre worry. "She'll be fine. She's our kid, she'll be perfectly fine."

He cracked a small smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you both start walking back, giving in with a small chuckle. "Yeah, okay. Maybe we should get a puppy to keep us busy now since she wants to do all grown up things go to scho..."

You look up at him as he suddenly trails off, confused as you catch him staring at something thoughtfully in the distance and follow his gaze to freeze against him slightly. In the distance, still as grey and imposing as ever, was the abandoned building which once held District 4's career academy. Strange feelings that always came with seeing it, both good and bad and nostalgic, make you tighten your grip on his hand and his around your shoulders.

Less than a decade ago, only a few metres and a small canal away from the kindergarten that your daughter now attended, children like her were being trained to kill, you and Finnick being a part of them. The thought of that still makes your blood run cold but the relief that rushed in right after, knowing your baby would never have to do that, is enough to let go of another hour of the countless you had spent in there, training to survive a system bigger than the arena could ever be.

You took a deep breath, forcing to maintain your light tone as you forced both of you to continue moving. "Heard they're building another school there, to keep the spirits of learning still alive and all that."

He smiled, kissing the top of your head fondly. "And I assume you want to help out in that?" The cheeky smile you had given him was answer enough but for him, it was like a sigh of relief, of brighter days no longer stained with gloom of his past.

People and places had changed to accomodate this new change, this everlasting spring, and maybe he was looking forward to letting his soul do the same too.

A/N: i agree this might've gone slightly offtopic in certain places but bare with me. I can't decide if want this to be the end or write more. But I hope you enjoyed this regardless of these things. All my love 🌱

[johnnycakesswitch]

Hey!! I see you’ve been reblogging a lot of sickfic type headcanons and was wondering if maybe you had any for the curtis bros and or johnny?? I’m a sucker for sickfics and I feel like you’d have some really cute headcanons haha

Ok I’m sorry I took a minute to answer but I wanted to think up some rly good ones for you!! Sick fics are my absolute fav so I will do my best!

Ponyboy

• he’s the baby of the family so he gets absolutely doted on when he’s sick and he loves it so much

• gets so many colds in the winter. His nose is perpetually red from having to blow it so much. Always has a wet cough

• when he’s sick he really enjoys being held or laying in someone’s lap on the couch. Soda will hold him close at night and do whatever he can to make him comfy enough to sleep like rub his tummy or back or play with his hair, he absolutely hates seeing his baby brother hurting

• when his head is hurting really bad, Soda will massage his neck and shoulders because migraines really make your entire body hurt so bad

• if his head isn’t hurting too bad he likes watching tv because he’s bored so he’ll curl up on the couch with a bunch of blankets and watch tv with whoever’s around

• If no one else can get off work, Two-Bit will stay home from school and watch Pony. He’s actually really good at taking care of people and Pony likes having him there when his brothers can’t be

• if Pony gets too anxious or stressed he’ll get awful stomachaches, he’ll be nauseous all the time and have no appetite. His brothers know there really isn’t much they can do until he stops feeling this way so Darry just makes him food that’s easy to digest and Soda always rubs his stomach so he doesn’t make himself sick

• if Pony is really sick like a flu or something he’ll lay in bed with Darry, partially because it reminds him of his parents and because his bed is bigger and more comfortable. Usually Soda ends up squeezing in there too

• not necessarily dramatic but can be very whiny. Not in an annoying way but he’ll like make noises in his sleep or just these unintelligible sounds when someone asks him a question, especially if he’s got a bad headache. Just incoherent, miserable whines

• very pukey kid, can’t keep anything down if his stomach is sick and usually throws up if he’s got a migraine. On rare occasions though, he’ll be super nauseous but not actually able to throw up which he hates more than anything, he’d rather just get it over with than feel queasy for a long time

• will stand in the doorway of Darry’s room like “I frew up 🧍‍♂️”

• Darry and Soda really fuss over him like always checking his temperature, asking him what doesn’t feel good, making sure he stays hydrated and try to get something in his tummy. Usually he doesn’t like being babied but being sick is the only exception and he will complain if he feels like he isn’t getting enough attention

• bro will whine about drinking ginger ale and asks for Pepsi instead and Darry’s just like bruh be fr

Sodapop

• poor Soda is a tummy ache survivor. He has such a sensitive stomach it’s not even funny. He physically can’t hide if he’s sick because his stomach starts making these awful noises and that’s how the others always know he’s not feeling good

• don’t even try to make him eat when he’s sick because he will throw it right back up

• when he gets sick it’s like really bad. He gets very high fevers and body aches and is just completely miserable

• needs to be physically comforted because he’s always just so uncomfortable when he’s sick. He likes having his belly rubbed or his back or having his scalp massaged. Darry does that for him to put him to sleep when he’s sick and it works like a charm. Another thing Darry will do is rub his shoulders and arms which he loves because Soda always has trouble getting warm when he’s sick and it feels so nice on his achy muscles

• gets sore throats a lot bc bro breathes w his mouth open at night ✋😭

• Soda looks so endearing when he’s sick though because his eyes are all glossy and his cheeks are flushed and he’s always bundled up under a bunch of blankets which makes him look so tiny and precious

• he always psychs himself out about being sick like he’ll convince himself that he has to throw up so Darry will go sit with him in the bathroom and it won’t ever come and he’s just like “no I swear I’m gonna throw up” and Darry just has to coax him back to bed because it’s been like an hour. Sometimes bro honestly just needs to burp and ends up feeling so much better after

• the most dramatic sneezes ever, if Soda has a cold it’s everyone’s problem bc you can hear him sneeze a block away

• he’s a very emotional sick person if he’s super sick, always really teary and upset because he feels so yucky

• worries Darry so much because he overheats so easily, his temperature will go from low fever to veering on dangerously high like nothing

• Darry makes him put a cold cloth on his face or neck and he hatesss this he always tries to take it off because he hates being cold so Darry will have to sit with him and hold it in place or make sure he doesn’t move it either until Soda falls asleep or Darry thinks it’s been long enough

Darry

• gets sick like a regular amount but it’s usually not that bad

• when he does get pretty sick though, he tries to stay away from the others so they don’t get sick too

• this never works because Soda and Pony will break into his room to snuggle him which he can’t deny that he loves

• the one thing that really gets poor Darry is a cold. He gets the most uncomfortable colds, his ears always ache, his head hurts, his nose runs, it’s just miserable. Soda and Pony can always tell when one is coming on because his colds tend to start with a sore throat and his voice gets really raspy

• Soda will massage his back to help him sleep because he’s so restless when he’s sick and can’t seem to relax properly :(

• stomach bugs affect him the least, he tends to throw up once and feels so much better after, which is good because they definitely hit Pony and Soda hard so he likes that he can quickly feel better and take care of them

• super light sensitive when he has headaches so if he’s holed up in his room for hours, the others know he isn’t feeling good

• when Darry is sick, Soda and Ponyboy make him soup which is actually super good and he really enjoys. They’ll lay in bed with him after and cuddle, Soda usually lays his head on Darry’s stomach and Pony on his chest and Darry puts his arms around them both. It’s soothing for all of them

• he actually gets sick frequently in the winter but it’s a bunch of small, not serious stuff. Like low grade fevers that’ll last a day, a random cough, sore throats, etc. He doesn’t like the winter because he feels like he’s perpetually not 100%

• will always try to go to work, but one time Soda convinced him to stay home by saying “what if you throw up off the roof” and the thought of that was so embarrassing to Darry that he stayed home so he wouldn’t risk it

Johnny

• will usually camp it out at the Curtis house or at Buck’s with Dally

• a very good patient- he doesn’t mind being left alone but he won’t fight being taken care of either

• Darry will always let Johnny lay in his bed or help him get comfortable on the couch if he would rather be with everyone else

• lots of fevers, whether it’s a flu or a cold or whatever, Johnny always runs warm when he doesn’t feel good

• a very sleepy sickie, he usually just wants to sleep off whatever doesn’t feel good. He likes if another person is near him when he’s sleeping, it makes him feel safe

• Dally will always lay with Johnny when he’s sick and at Buck’s, partially because he knows Johnny likes it and so he can keep an eye on him. If Johnny breathes the wrong way Dally’s like 👀

• Johnny likes if Ponyboy reads to him when he’s sick, it gets his mind off of it

• if he throws up it’s really bad, it usually comes on super fast and it’s always a lot. He can’t always get up in time so if Johnny’s sick best believe someone is getting a bin or a garbage can for him to keep close because he’ll go to completely fine to 🤢 super fast

• being sick really takes all his energy away so even if it’s just the sniffles this boy is TIRED. It’ll be 7 pm and he’s like guys can I go to sleep on the couch now 🥺

• will not go home whatsoever if he’s sick because he just can’t deal with both things at once and everyone knows, so they’ll make sure to tell Johnny to stay over so he doesn’t feel bad about asking and try to sleep outside instead

• everyone coddles him but he appreciates it so much

[seakicker]

as a certified hairy pussy enjoyer, i am obligated to share my hairy pussy enjoyer genshin headcanons because i am objectively correct 110% of the time. i have never shared an incorrect take in my entire life.

i (self-indulgently) consider childe a hairy pussy lover because i’ve always been obsessed with the idea of snezhnayan men valuing fertility and comfort in a partner over all else given how uninviting and uncomfortable the snezhnayan landscape is. soft bodies that suggest luxury, a comfortable lifestyle, and fertility are the apex of snezhnayan beauty standards because the ability to successfully birth, care for, and raise a child is so important in a place where the elements act against you the entire year. you know how humans don’t have a designated mating season because we’re the one species able to consistently mate indoors and don’t have to worry about “surviving the winter” as much as other non-human animals do? childe didn’t get the memo. he needs a thick, soft wife to get him through the winter, and a soft bush of pubes suggests fertility like absolutely nothing else. this applies to any other snezhnayan character btw childe’s just my fave hairy pussy enjoyer LMAO

tighnari and gorou both love hairy pussy for the same reason— as fox and dog hybrids, they have finely-tuned senses of smell and hair tends to hold onto a body’s scent more intensely than smooth, shaved skin does. you know that inner-thigh sweat that builds up on a hot day underneath the legholes of your shorts? consider that the appetizer before the feast for tighnari and gorou because they go ham on your body’s natural scent like absolutely nothing else. the chemically, artificial smells of perfumes and ointments? no thanks, those irritate their sensitive noses— you smell loveliest with your natural scent.

i like to imagine that albedo and scaramouche don’t grow body hair below the nose because they’re not human and mammals are partially characterized by having body hair. i also have the headcanon that scara and albedo’s head hair never grows and they were just created with the exact hair + eyelashes eyebrows they have now and nothing ever grows naturally, but that’s not really the point here. anyways, i like to imagine that they take some sort of fascination with your body’s hair because it’s something they don’t experience and don’t know too much about. it’s a lot of fun. you’ll have to ask very nicely for scaramouche to not tug on your hair because he doesn’t really care if it hurts you or not— it’s just another way he can make things miserable for you since pubes are unique to you and not him LMAO

[elliespuns]

Quiet the Winter Harbor

Summary: After Ellie experienced horrors beyond her comprehension and was forced to do what was necessary, it completely broke her. Not knowing whether he was still alive or not, she slowly started to lose all hope of seeing Joel ever again. Terrified, helpless, and lost—that's how he found her when he appeared and took some of her pain away.

Pairing: Ellie & Joel, father-daughter

Wordcount: 1.5k

Tags/Warnings: canonverse, angst, comfort, fluff, found family, platonic relationship, father-daughter, soft Joel, baby girl Ellie, Joel POV, Ellie POV

Note: This one-shot of a 'story' is based on the actual TLOU game events; on a scene where Ellie kills David and Joel comes to take her away. Ellie & Joel mean so much to me. Writing them into fluffy scenarios will always make me happy. Hope this silly little 'scene' can make you happy too.

Rushing away from the burning building that's slowly tumbling down as the flames lick the air, Joel's arm is wrapped around the little girl's petite back as he's leading her away from the danger. She's trembling. She would never thought that she'd ever go through something like this. Ellie has killed people before, but this? This was different. He was trying to—was he? He definitely was. She keeps replaying the last few moments before her eyes, sobbing softly. She had to do it. She had no choice. She didn't want any of this to happen. Yet it still did, and it absolutely broke her.

The young girl who needs him right now is falling apart right next to him, and he has no idea what to do or what to say. The man Joel wishes to torture to death was trying to hurt her in ways no girl should ever experience. She's so young, innocent and fragile. There are no right words to empathise with something like this.

Instead of opening his mouth to say something that would only make her feel worse, he just gives her shoulder a gentle, loving squeeze with his hand and pulls her closer to him as the tears keep running down her freckles and leaving salty taste on her lips.

She's quiet. He is too. He feels miserable. If only if got there sooner. The anger, the frustration, the helplessness that suffocates him knowing he can't turn back the time to do something, and her little, quiet sniffs are not making this any easier on him. All Joel wants to do is to bring that motherfucker back to life, only to torture him and make him suffer in an agonizing way. Make him experience evil—evils that he had the nerve to put Ellie through.

And even after all this, he still can't believe what a brave and courageous kid she is. Hell of a fighter. He had never seen so much strength in a person before, let alone in a little girl.

When he arrived at the scene and he witnessed what she has done to the man, he knew that he would've done exactly the same thing. Except she's a kid. She shouldn't know what this feels like. Having her clinging to him tighly as she cried, embracing her, he finally realized that she must have gone out of her way to save his life. In that moment, he regretted everything he said to her back at the farm house and from this moment on, he decided to make his life's mission to dedicate his all this kid.

He should do something. Say something. He owes her so much. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't have been here right now. Feeling helpless, with nothing but love inside his heart for her right now, he can't take this deafening silence any longer. He stops and crouches down in front of her, putting them at eye-lever with one another. The freezing, snowy path sends an icy cold feeling through his entire body as soon as his knee hits the ground and his hands reach for hers, having her lift her red, puffy eyes on him. "Listen, Ellie. I er… I have no idea what to say because, honestly, there is nothing I can say or do to take away what you've just gone through." He says softly, his voice deep but full of endearment and understanding as he caresses the knuckles on her fists with his thumbs, warming her extremely cold hands.

"Joel, I don't wanna—" She sobs, her words stuck in her throat, her teeth chattering from the cold.

"You don't have to say anything. Just know that I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for everything. For every damn mean thing I said to you. I didn't mean any of it." He says, regretting the harsh words that left his mouth at the farmhouse before everything went down so fast and he has come to realize that he hurt her. "You deserve so much more." He assures her, his huge palms covering her fists.

"Joel, can we just—"

"No, listen. Listen, Ellie…" He stops her by cupping her wet, icy cheeks that are somehow burning up, wiping her tears away with his calloused thumbs as her sad, pained eyes peer into his and her lower lip quivers. "You are the bravest fucking kid, do you understand?" He says, his voice trembling as if he's on the verge of crying himself. "And you saved my life. No one else would care enough to take so many risks to do that for someone like me." He adds and smiles, his cold hands sticking to her cheeks as he's refusing to let go. "And you still did. You matter, okay? You matter to me. I should've never left your side and—"

It's when his words are cut short as the frail girl in front of him throws herself his way and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his jacket and weepeing softly. "I was so scared, Joel. I was so fucking scared that I lost you." She mumbles into his neck, searching for comfort in the smell of his shirt and coat.

It was as if his heart stopped beating for a second the moment she clung to him. His arms are suddenly taking on a life of their own when they instinctively wrap around her and pull her closer before one of his hands comes up to caress the back of her head as she keeps sobbing, leaving wet traces of her tears in the crook of his neck.

They never embraced each other like this before. Freezing on the cold ground, Joel's knee that's buried deep in the snow to keep his balance steady for her starts getting numb. But he doesn't mind. He doesn't care. It's the warmth of her heart that's softly beating through her chest right against his as they keep hugging tightly, quietly, and affectionately. If it weren't for the howling of the wind, he could have sworn he heard it too.

This girl means everything to him. How did this happen? He has no idea. But he curses himself for all the time he made her life a living hell by constantly rejecting her charming, beamy, and at times, ridiculously goofy personality. She might be the best thing that has ever happened to him after Sarah, and all he has ever done till now was be an asshole. Now he's going to do better with her.

Carefully breaking the embrace, he cups her cheek again. "You don't ever need to feel like you have to talk to me about what happened there, okay? Just remember… if there's ever going to be a day when you feel like laying all this burden out on me, don't hesitate." He pays her a smile. A smile so warm and full of love it made her heart flutter.

She's devastated after all that happened, but this? This smile on his face? Smile that he never gave her before? Smile that says, 'You'll never be alone ever again.' She can't help but nod and crack a tiny smile too, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. "Okay." She sniffs, her voice trembling as she's doing her best not to cry anymore. She doesn't know how, but Joel is making her feel better. He wouldn't take away the horrors she's still replying in her mind over and over again, but it means a lot. She's never thought that one day this stranger of a man would be someone that she deeply cares about. Someone whose love would mean the world to her.

"Okay, kiddo. I don't want to spoil the emotional moment we have here, but… you're going to need to help your old man." He chuckles, trying to loosen up the tension by using humor—the one thing he knows always wins with Ellie. "I think my knee got stuck to the ground, and I also can't feel it anymore."

Ellie smiles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand before she reaches for his. "You're such a dumbass." She shakes her head and lets a few little giggles out, helping him on his feet.

Slapping the snow and filth off his jeans, he reaches behind him to grab something that appears to look like Ellie's backpack. "Here. I believe you have a few valuable things in this thing." He hands it to her, watching her eyes beam at the sight of her pack that she thought she'd never see again.

"You might be old and helpless sometimes, but you're not totally worthless." She jokes, grinning at him before she flings the pack over her shoulder.

"There she is." Joel chuckles and is head over heels for his baby girl's smile, which he thought he had lost too.

The end.

Author's note: This is not an actual attempt at a fic or a story that has a continuation. This is just a silly little one-shot I wrote for myself, and the nice people here helped me overcome my fear of oversharing my privacy, so I finally posted some of it. If anyone else already wrote fics based on this scene, just know that I got inspired by the scene itself, not by any of the stories related to it. Anyway, I hope it's not that terrible, and keep in mind that English is not my mother language. Typos are possible.

[kaleidoscopiccc]

more headcannons to add to the pile:

ocean is the only member of the choir that doesnt have her ears pierced because shes scared to death of needles

mischa is banned from the only wafflehouse in uranium for reasons he refuses to explain

noel and ocean made a pact in like middle school to get married if neither of them were married by the age of 30

neither mischa nor ricky are allowed on aux under any circumstances because theyll play nothing but badegg and undertale fan songs respectively

mischa walks around in a t-shirt and shorts in the middle of canadian winter, hes just immune to the cold for some reason

ocean sorts all her stationary in rainbow order, she will explode if they get messed up

noel and ocean get into arguments about the best taylor swift albums constantly during choir

ocean is a lover and fearless stan for life an noels favorite is reputation

constance doesnt even try to make her case for speak now

one time she did and both of them turned to her in sync, yelled "no!", and went back to fighting

penny casually brings up her trauma in the middle of conversions and proceeds to leave the rest of the choir speechless (“oh yeah like that one time i got my entire family and friends arrested in a police raid on our drug commune” “the WHAT”)

ocean has a bunch of sapphic romance books hidden under her bed even though literally no one but her goes in her room

noel was a theatre kid but was banned from all school performances after the nativity incident so he started taking art instead

constance is the same height as (if not a little shorter than) ocean but always wears platforms so ocean ends up being the shortest either way

“100% of people who have sex as teens die, you don't want to die do you?” -ocean oconnell rosenberg, 2009

everyone in the choir needs glasses just to varying degrees most of them just dont wear them for reasons ranging from "yeah thats understandable" to "WHAT THE FUCK RICKY

penny hates pants with all her heart and will only wear shorts or skirts no matter how cold it is outside

constance hates pants almost as much and will wear shorts all the way up to like december

mischa refuses to close any of the apps or tabs on his phone and it literally dies quicker than he did

ocean loves cats but cats hate her, if they dont kill her from allergies, theyll start scratching the shit out of her (she cant be within 500 ft of the potts household without dying on the spot)

noel literally had to lock penny and ocean in the choir room together for them to confess to each other

it took them 2 hours

the others were just outside playing cards the whole time

mischa taught ricky poker during those 2 hours and ricky absolutely wrecked him every single round

mischa rage quit after the 5th time he lost in a row

the piano in the st cassian music room (/choir practice room) has been horrendously out of tune for longer than anyone can remember and no one bothers to fix it (ocean tried once but failed miserably and probably just made it worse)

[babyhatesreality]

I'm sick rn :( and just in pain 😭 so maybe thier baby is sick when they are on a Mission while she is by uncle tony and how would he handle it when she just cries for her daddies her daddies come back when she's asleep and comfort her after she wakes up

Oh man. I can FEEL Steve and Bucky's heartbreak just thinking about this...I hope you feel better soon darling!! Lots of water and rest. Sending you comforting hugs and healing vibes <3

They'd been gone a week with Natasha and Clint, working to bring in rogue Hydra agents, when they got a call from Tony.

You all got to Facetime every night, so at first they just thought it was another call.

But when they saw Tony cradling you in his arms and your red and teary eyes pop up on the screen, both of their hearts stopped.

Tony explained that you'd come down with a cold, and were feeling feverish and achy.

They both ached to hold you in their own arms and comfort you when you were so obviously feeling miserable.

Steve, of course, the family hypochondriac, immediately grilled Tony about every possible symptom and the timeline of everything.

Tony had taken you to Dr. Cho, as Bruce was currently in Wakanda with Shuri working on the tech to bring back any other brainwashed Hydra soldiers. He hadn't known at the time about your...caution with Dr. Cho, and it had been an interesting visit to say the least.

You clung to Tony like velcro the entire time. He also was pretty sure you didn't blink once when Dr. Cho was in the room, which just added to your misery of scratchy and tired eyes.

"I don't gotta get a shot, right Unca Tony?" you had asked in a whisper when Dr. Cho left the room to get some medicine for you.

"No shot, shortstack," Tony had confirmed. You immediately relaxed, but buried your face in his chest as you were still feeling lousy.

Tony described the decongestant and cough syrup to Steve in patient detail, when you burst into the conversation.

"Coughy syrup yucky," you grumbled.

"I know baby, but you gotta listen to Uncle Tony and take it. You understand?"

"Don't wanna, Papa."

"I know you don't. But the more you take that syrup, the better you'll feel when we get home. Okay?"

"You come home now, please?" you asked quietly, putting your little hand up on the screen, touching their pictures.

Tony could hear both their hearts shatter from across the globe.

"Soon, baby, we promise," Bucky croaked out, grabbing Steve's hand off camera for support. "We'll be home before you know it."

"That's a promise," Steve said in a husky voice. You just nodded and turned your face back into Tony's chest.

Two important things happened that night after that call.

The first was that Tony didn't put you down all night. He carried you around the complex, rocking you, telling you stories, comforting you, even singing a little ACDC to you to help keep you calm and relaxed.

The second was that World War Hydra was unleashed and won, all in a single night. With their stamina, strength, and the image of you needing them in their heads, Captain America and the Winter Soldier tore through the secret Hydra base and eliminated or captured every single threat. For every one member than Natasha or Clint brought down, they brought down five. The entire battle was over before Hydra even knew they were there.

Natasha flew home as fast as she could, refusing to let Steve fly as he was clearly still in an over-emotional state. But she pushed it to the absolutely max that she safely could.

It was five am when Steve and Bucky made it to the Stark floor of the Tower. JARVIS had alerted Tony of their homecoming, and they went straight to you.

Tony gently put you in Steve's arms while Bucky hovered nervously.

And in your sleep, you sighed and smiled.

Even though you were fast asleep, you still knew they had come home to you. Just like they promised.

[stedefxckingbonnet]

So this is gonna be entirely too much info but like. I've fallen into reading your reader x Izzy fics and I LOVE them! I've been going through a hard time with it getting to Christmas and having no family, and the Izzy fics just make me feel lighter. So mostly just thank you thank you thank you!

Now the cheeky bit - is there any way we could get a Male reader x Izzy with a pride and prejudice element. My friend said something about Con O'Neil as Mr Darcy and I damn near swooned. Either like a Colin Firth wet white shirt scene or like anything like the Matthew Macfayden Darcy (The hands! The sopping wet pathetic man!)

If not, that's more than okay! I still love your work so much! And again, thank you so much for it!

Hi, anon! First of all, I completely understand how rough the holidays can be, especially without family around. My heart is truly with you during these times and I hope you can still find joy, peace, and love this winter. If you ever need anything, I am always in your corner. I know I'm just a random writer on Tumblr but I truly do care for you, each and every one of you, for that matter! I'm happy I could even bring you a sliver of joy with my work. Thank you endlessly for reading, and I am sending an abundance of my love your way <3 feel free to message me if you'd like, I'd love to be your friend! My messages are always open, everyone! But if not, that's okay too. I'm just happy to share this with you!

Anyhow, I absolutely lit up at this request—I love Pride & Prejudice! OFMD and P&P intertwining is honestly heavenly, I got so excited to write this that I put a pin on another x reader I was writing (never fear! You will all get this one by the end of the week if finals don't absolutely drain me!). This one is reminiscent of Pride & Prejudice and the vibes it emits, but more so, my own spin on it, as well as twists and turns. Like, Izzy honestly exhibits more of a Lizzie in this one but it's also very clear his actions parallel Darcy. I really, truly hope you enjoy this nonetheless!

Lastly, speaking of the holidays, I'm thinking of writing some holiday headcanons for Izzy or a few x readers regarding the holidays with Izzy! So stay tuned for that! Thank you everyone for your everlasting kind words, understanding, patience, and encouragement with my slight delay with writing in the past week.

My Gem | Izzy x Male Reader

Warnings: slight angst, some strong language, slight enemies to lovers, not so in depth research of 1700's aristocracy (even though I'm a damn dramaturg, but we'll look past that for now), made up my first non-canon canon character because just referring to her as "she" felt inhumane, brief mentions of fake suicide note, kissing

Word count: 2324

Thoughts of the first mate of The Revenge were absolutely consuming you. Devouring you alive, plaguing you—you truly couldn't get him out of your head no matter how hard you tried. Oh, yes, you tried. But there was no use. Daydreams would always swirl in your mind and they would only increase tenfold throughout the course of your days.

You were grateful that you at least didn't have to carry the burden of breathing the same air as Israel Hands anymore. You would even collapse being within ten feet of him, let alone seeing him every single day. Your chest ached even at the mere thought of the man.

To say you were confused by his last actions toward you was an understatement. Confused, embarrassed, miserable, even flattered...You couldn't get Izzy Hands out of your head. You couldn't get his hands out of your head...

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"So you really are doing this, then."

"Yes," you nodded. "I am. I don't belong here—"

"You are a damn great pirate," Izzy almost seethed. "I'll be damned if I believe you really want to go back to that...lavish lifestyle."

You looked slightly frantically behind you in hopes that no one heard Izzy's dig at what was about to be your life again. You hesitantly looked back at Izzy, almost biting your lip in disbelief. "I just need to do this."

"Really? That's all you have to say?"

"What—what else am I supposed to say?"

Silence loomed between the two of you. He nervously fidgeted with the coat that Stede had lent him to disguise himself as an aristocrat. He couldn't wait to toss it back into Bonnet's arms, but he needed this in order to see you off safely, without any suspicions of what you had been up to in your absence from the life you were born into. He knew full well that you were making a mistake, but that you couldn't be convinced of this. His chest ached upon realizing that you wouldn't change your mind, that he wouldn't be able to change your mind.

"Goodbye, Israel."

Instead of responding, Izzy carefully intertwined his fingers with yours as you were about to step up into the carriage. You froze, yet began to melt into his touch, his warmth. You finally met his eyes just as he let go of you, and before you knew it, you were riding off into the distance, Izzy becoming a small speck fading from your sight. Before he began to fade out of view, you caught a glimpse of him flexing his hand by his side as he watched you depart.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You scoffed as the yellow carnation was pinned to your coat.

"Is something wrong, sir?" one of your dressers inquired, concern washing over his expression.

You almost laughed at such a question, thinking back to all of the late nights you spent studying flowers and their meanings, dying to tell him how this marriage was going to be doomed if you had to wear a yellow carnation. At the last minute, you decided against it, holding your tongue. "Everything is perfect. Thank you."

He nodded, exiting the room as soon as he finished dressing you. You turned toward the mirror, a frown falling onto your lips upon seeing your reflection. You had never dreaded a coming day like you dreaded tomorrow. Before you could internally lament further, a rhythmic knock was heard from your door. Genevieve—future wife. How delightful. It's not like you dreaded it every time she walked into a room, let alone walked over to your side, and it's not like you could tell she dreaded you all the same.

"Yes. Come in," you sighed, plopping down onto your bed. Only, it wouldn't be your bed anymore—you would share it with her, come tomorrow. Your solitude would be interrupted and put on pause forever.

Genevieve quickly rushed in, making sure to shut and lock the door behind her. She fixed her hair a bit as she did so.

"What is it that you want?" you demanded softly, your brows furrowing.

"Hello to you too," she rolled her eyes. "I'm not looking forward to tomorrow—"

"That makes two of us, Genevieve! Finally, something we can agree upon," you laughed, falling backwards onto the bed.

"Will you let me finish?" she crossed her arms without realizing it. Once she had in fact realized, an expression of guilt overcame her as she untwisted herself. A guilt you had never once seen her bear. You sent an apologetic look her way. "I'm not looking forward to tomorrow, nor the rest of our lives together, but I just wanted to say that you are lovely. I don't hate you. I just hate this."

"I don't hate you either," you sat up carefully, your head sort of spinning as you did so. "Far from it. This is just an...unfortunate situation we've found ourselves in."

"Yes," she agreed, carefully placing herself beside you on the edge of the bed. "You know, I would love you, if you were...there's no way to dance around this. I would love you if you were not a man."

"Oh!" you realized, looking over at her, relief crashing over you. "And I would probably love you if you were not a woman, quite honestly."

Genevieve gasped in delight, wrapping her arms around you as she laughed happily. You couldn't help but smile upon her embrace.

"Who is the lucky woman?" you playfully smiled, nudging her shoulder. You watched intently as you watched the pigment of her face turn rosy.

"Well...we've known each other since we were babies," she sighed happily. "But our families have been dear friends since before we were even conceived. It would never work out."

"Take "never" out of your vocabulary this instant!" you exclaimed, shooting up off the bed and onto your two feet.

"What are you planning?" Genevieve tilted her head.

You rushed over to your desk, filing through all that had piled atop it until you found a quill, some ink, and some parchment.

"We can't say you've run away—no, that would give hope that you're still alive and then you would be seeing wanted posters with your face plastered across trees anywhere you go," you sighed. "No. We'll fake your death instead. And you'll run away tonight."

Genevieve bit her lip concernedly. "Are you sure this will work?"

"I'm certain," you assured her. "Are you able to communicate this plan to your love before midnight?"

"Yes, she is coming to the rehearsal dinner tonight and I'm sure we'll sneak off to the gardens," she nodded.

"Wait—is that why you and Alice go there every time—"

Genevieve's hands flew up to her face, covering it as she giggled.

"My goodness!" you couldn't help but share the laughter. "Wow. I am not surprised, honestly."

"What about you?"

"Have I ever snuck off to a garden to—"

"No!" Genevieve rolled her eyes playfully. "Do you love another?"

"I..." you sighed. "Well, it's complicated."

"I've got time."

"I'm kind of upset with him at the moment. And I'm not sure how he feels about me. And I didn't realize I love him until after I left—"

"One thing at a time!" Genevieve tilted her head back to laugh. She place a hand on your shoulder. "Why does he have you upset?

"He held my hand before I left." you admitted, staring out the window as you spoke. Most days, you would have the curtains closed in order to mask the view of the ocean, as it would only bring you feelings of sorrow and regret.

"And you really question how he feels for you?!"

"Well, he's not like us," you frowned. "Believe me, I'm glad he's not. Though I just don't think he understands what a touch of the hand means to someone like me."

"You may come from different worlds with different values and rules, but holding hands is still an expression of affection wherever you come from," Genevieve pointed out.

"He did wear a fancy ensemble just to see me off safely..."

Once again, Genevieve's laughter filled the room. "You are blind!"

"It's just hard to tell with him!" you protested, laughing along with her. "He's hard to read. He's...very easily irritated."

"Is he like that when he's with you?"

"Less so, but yes," you shrugged. "He is a complicated man."

"But his feelings for you are apparent."

"My god, I need to go!"

"Yes, you do!" she encouraged you, patting you on the back.

"I can't right away. I have to get in contact with someone first, and if both you and I are found missing or dead by morning, it's going to be terribly suspicious—"

"You will find a way. I know it," she assured you. "Let's go and oversee the menu for tonight. I'm starved."

You laughed as she jokingly linked arms with you, leading you out into what you were about to leave behind once again.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

All had gone according to plan—you saw Genevieve and Alice off safely, and falsely mourned your fiancée the next day, and for only a few days after before Stede caught wind of your message. As soon as he had, you scurried to the beach, only bothering to bring a few possessions with you. You hadn't even bothered to leave a note—nothing attached you to the aristocratic life anymore. For good this time.

"Captain!" you exclaimed, almost out of breath. "Thank you. I'm so, so sorry."

"No need to apologize to me," Stede assured you warmly. "Believe me, I get it."

"I wish you warned me—"

"Oh, you wouldn't have listened," he teased. "I do regret having done the same thing you had, but if I hadn't, I never would have gotten closure with Mary and bade farewell to that side of me fully. You had to do the same."

"And you and Blackbeard—he forgave you?"

"We're working on it," Stede laughed. "He has, mostly."

"Do you think Izzy will ever forgive me? How is he?"

"Go see for yourself," Stede suggested kindly. "He's on watch tonight. I'll be in my quarters should you need anything at all."

Before you could thank him again, he vanished into the darkness. You smiled, though you could have swore your heart stopped upon the sight of Izzy Hands. You almost choked on the breath you had taken before gaining the courage to waltz over to him. Before you knew it, you were beside him once again. Izzy jumped upon sensing your presence.

"Jesus fuck," Izzy mumbled.

"Hello to you too."

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Oh, Izzy, I'm happy to see you too!"

"I'm serious—what the fuck? You just up and leave and then you're back. Is this some sort of pattern? How long will your stay be this time, perhaps only a day, maybe two—"

Without much thought, you found your fingers laced between his once again. Izzy's train of thought stopped in its tracks and all he could focus on now was the feeling of warmth that had been yanked away from him ever since you left, and that now, it had been restored. A warmth he thought he would never get to experience again, nor experience at all. Whenever he spent countless days and hours reminiscing upon it, he scolded himself, convincing himself that he should be grateful he got to feel that at least once in his life. It was one more time than he ever expected he would feel it. It should have been enough, but it wasn't even close. His heart began beating out of his chest—what was this feeling he couldn't quite place? He knew it all too well and he was tired of pushing it down to drown. Eventually, you softly removed your hand, and you noticed Izzy's hand flex by his side once again.

"Did it mean something to you? When you held my hand before I left."

"I was giving you a boost onto your ride," he shrugged it off, turning away in hopes that the darkness would hide his smile.

"Right," you laughed. "Izzy, seriously. I have been going crazy. Every single day, wondering if you ever understood what such a gesture meant to me or if it meant absolutely nothing to you."

"Of course it meant something to me, dammit," Izzy sighed. "You are such a fool if you thought for a second that it didn't."

You laughed breathlessly, relief overcoming you instantly as you pressed your forehead against his. The way the moonlight shone upon his face made him even more breathtaking, even more earth-shatteringly beautiful. You couldn't believe what your eyes were allowing you to see, and you couldn't believe how warm you'd felt. You almost swore you'd never shiver once again. Your lips softly grazed his forehead before you pressed another kiss upon his cheek, before resting your forehead against his once again, your eyes fluttering shut, butterflies flying around in your stomach as you reached for his hands once again.

"Mark my words. I will never, ever leave again—"

"Shh," Izzy gently whispered against your lips. "We can talk about it later."

"Later," you nodded gently as finally, your lips collided. Your heart did pirouettes as your lips danced against one another's. In the darkness of your vision, you caught a glimpse of your future aboard The Revenge, with Izzy. You had never seen so clearly, until now, that you had finally found the place you were meant to be after denying it for so long. You had found your family and your lover, and they were all gathered in the same place. This was a luxury that would always beat the fancy balls you attended, the gold-laced coats you wore upon your back, the gems you were gifted often. Izzy was your gem, and he made your life shine brighter than it ever had.

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Track Marks And Dial Tones I

Summary: A late night call from your informant sets off an unexpected avalanche of gut-wrenching events…

Pairing: Clay Roach x fem!cop!Reader

Word Content: ~ 2.5k

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat!, 18+!, Lots Of Hurt And Hardly Any Comfort, Slow Burn, Addiction (Duh), Substance Abuse (Obviously), Used Needles, A Belt Used As Tourniquet, Clay's Disgusting Living Situation, Clay Being Absolutely Fucking Miserable, Crying…So Much Crying, Talk About A Wilfully Induced OD, ANGSTY AF

A/N: The dove isn't just dead anymore, it actually started decomposing a while ago…

I'll add the appropriate content warnings with the progress of this story!

For anybody interested: I've made a Spotify playlist to go along with the fic!

Find Part II here!

Tagging the horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess @doddernix @svgarcaine

Somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite

I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?

It's harder and harder to get you to listen

More I get through the gears

Incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas

- Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? By Arctic Monkeys

"Shitbum." Pale, white letters on the screen of your vibrating phone proclaimed for the 3rd time tonight.

With each new buzz of vibrations passing by, your eyes narrowed down on the display. There wouldn't be anything good in store for you if you picked up, that much you knew for sure, but him calling three times in the span of an hour and not in one manic rush of back to back calls that ended in nothing but halfway nodded out gibberish on your voicemail was something new. Not one singular voicemail had been left so far and after your mobile phone fell back into motionless silence you waited for a notification to pop up, for the screen to inform you that "You have one unattended voicemail by Caller ID: Shitbum." But nothing like that happened. Just another unanswered call in the purgatory of your push-up notifications.

With curiously arched brows, you forced yourself to take your gaze from the phone and redirect it to your bedtime read. It wasn’t an entirely fruitless attempt, you even managed to read half a page before the screen of your phone flickered up again. You saw the display glowing in the corner of your eye and all of your attention shot right back to the device.

"Jesus, fuck…" You muttered under your breath as you rolled your tired eyes at yourself while practically snatching the phone from the nightstand.

"I need you, please." The message read as soon as you unlocked the display.

For a moment you just stared at the words, frowning and your lips subconscious pursing slightly.

"Help." The cold casing vibrated again in your touch and you felt your stomach dropping.

Clay had never asked for help before, never, not once. He might have been a dope-sick informant but he always carried his head high in his very own way of snarky arrogance and stubbornness.

"Shit, Clay. What did you do?" It shot right out of your mouth as you slid out from underneath your warm duvet and reached for your thick police jacket.

Right now you couldn't be bothered to change out of your checkered PJs, everything happened automatically; your phone got shoved into the jacket while your other hand searched through a drawer as your feet pushed themselves into a pair of sturdy winter boots.

Your fingers held onto as many clean rigs as they could while your pockets got stuffed with FTS kits, the usual you brought with you when you stopped by to check in on Clay. It happened maybe once or twice a month and absolutely nobody at the Boston PD would be pleased with knowing about it but you didn't really care. You saw something in him, something more than just a fucked up addict.

The pockets of your jacked nearly teared open with how full you had stuffed them as you leaned down to tie your shoes before rushing downstairs to grab the keys to your car from the kitchen table. Your mind was almost blank, no thoughts just operating as you threw the door behind you shut and nearly ran towards your car.

At this time of night the streets were practically empty and you very clearly speeded down the set of blocks separating you from Clay's flat...if you could even call it that. His housing situation was that of a stuffy, damp bunker that's been trashed and vandalized for god knows how long. Clean or organized were attributes that didn't exist in his realm of clutter, debris and moldy dishes.

Cold wind hit you right in the face as you left the comforting warmth of your car and hastily stepped down a flight of stairs to the subterranean flat.

"Clay? It's me. Can I come in?" You spoke through the old, creaky door and knocked loudly to make your presence known.

No response. You knocked again.

"Clay?" You heard the tremble in your own voice and you were met with nothing but silence again.

"Fuck that shit." You huffed, took a step back and kicked your heavy boot against the door with such vigor that it easily cracked out of its lock.

The fact that your intrusion wasn't accompanied by just any reaction whatsoever had your stomach dropping and twitching in every possible direction. Jumping right into that nervous cramping right beneath your lungs, a pungent yet sweet stench of decay swept out of the open door right into your nostrils.

"Oh god..", You gagged and dry heaved, stumbling back and coughing a lump of saliva onto the wet pavement, "Oh fuck…ew."

You tried to cover your mouth and nose with the sleeve of your jacket but it was little to no avail, the foul odor nearly burned in your nose as you took careful steps through the trash filled hallway.

"Clay?" You called out again, receiving no answer once more.

As soon as you turned a corner into the hellhole that could be described as his "living room", you learned why.

"Oh no! You better fucking not you fucking idiot!" It rambled out of your trembling lips as you saw his statue propped against the wall, head dangling to the side, unresponsive.

With your heart hammering against your ribcage, you practically jumped over all the rubbish piles and crouched down in front of him.

"Clay! Hey!" Your hand touched his sweaty, cold to the touch cheek before all your self-control left you and you smacked him right in the face. No reaction.

"You better fucking talk to me, Clay!" Your fingers searched for his pulse point under strands of knotted, unkempt hair as your professionalism crumbled into nothingness and a flash of tears dreaded to erupt from your lower lash line. You forced them back with every ounce of countenance you could gather whilst a sharp breath escaped your mouth as you felt his pulse. Low and slow, but still very much there.

"The fuck you think nodding out on me like that, shitbum?" You scoffed, plopping down on your ass with a heavy sigh, a bunch of music and TV magazines crumpling under you.

"Let's get this mess here sorted out.." With a wrinkled nose and furrowed brows, your gaze wandered to his left arm, the sleeve being rolled up until above the crook of his elbow.

"Okay, here we go…" You murmured, hoping, imagining that he could hear you as you raised your fingers to slowly loosen up and carefully pull the black leather belt, he had used as a tourniquet, off his arm.

"Almost done…" You placed the belt next to you before you turned back to him and drew the plastic body of an empty syringe out of his arm.

For a brief moment you just looked at it, in anger and in fear to equal parts, fighting the inner urge to just smash the needle into the ground until it would break. Instead, you placed it with the belt and sat back down, taking a look around. The flat was…bad, even for Clay's standards downright messy. It gave the heavy impression that he'd lost the plot since the last time you had seen him about 2 weeks ago. Your mind hardly knew how to respond to your eyes recognising his floor being littered with used fentanyl test strips but it brought an awkwardly lopsided, faint smile to your lips. At least something. He was using them for a minimum of harm reduction.

As you let your eyes roam through the room, you eventually discovered the source of the deathlike stench filling the flat. Even from afar you saw a thick layer of not only green but black mold practically growing out and eating through the thick paper package of some Chinese takeaway you'd brought him 2 weeks ago.

"I paid for those noodles, asshole." You huffed under your breath, a desperate attempt to ease yourself from some of the relentless anxiety raging in your chest.

The box of rotten noodles wasn't the only thing that doused this room in its odor. Countless small cardboard boxes of strawberry milk with their counterpart straws were piled up high in a corner close to the open arch leading into the dirty misery that had been something resembling a kitchen once.

From early on, you had learned that cheap stir-fried noodles and strawberry milk of all things acted as the two main pillars of Clay's cranky diet and you never really tried to change anything about it. Who were you to tell him what to do only because he worked as your informant? Overall, you just felt content knowing that his still severely malnourished body got any sort of culinary input at all.

"What am I gonna do with you now, huh? Jesus, Clay. Freaked the shit out of me." You turned your body back towards his statue, your fingers carefully rolling his sweater back down to his wrist, your fingertips lingering on his sweaty hand for a moment before pulling back.

For a good few minutes, you just looked at him and pondered over what to do now. He'd freak the hell out if you'd drive him to the ER and the ER would most likely just not give much of a fuck since he wasn't straight up ODing. You also didn’t want to leave him here like that. There must’ve been a reason for him to call and text you the way he had and you'd do jackshit before you knew what all this was about.

"Mhmmm…." Your ears perked up the very second you heard the dragged out, low groan trickling out of Clay's mouth.

"Hey there…" You practically whispered to him, careful not to spook him.

"The fuck…are you doing here?" His speech was a little slurred but he seemed to come back slowly.

"You called and texted me, Clay." You answered to him calmly whilst pulling your phone from your pocket.

Before you turned the unlocked display towards his face, you tuned down the brightness.

"Remember?" He swiped his hair out of his face and squinted at the screen, pupils blown out wide.

Clay didn't answer right away, his fogged up mind trying to piece together what had happened during the last 2 hours. The expression on his face told you that he clearly didn't like what his jumbled thoughts came up with.

"Oh….oh, no…." He stammered, sluggishly trying to sit himself up straight again, the features of his face contorting into a pained frown.

While still holding up your phone, you looked at him attentively, following how he clenched his jaws as his eyes got covered by a watery sheene, indicating the growing distress he found himself in.

"It's okay, I promise. I'm here now and I'll help you." You sought to calm him down as you put the phone back into your jacket and tried to smile at him.

It wasn’t a happy smile by far but one of affirmation and understanding.

"No…no, no…" Clay suddenly started to scurry away from you, unaware that his back was already pressed against the lifeless concrete wall.

"No, what? Please talk to me." You felt your brows arching up in worry.

"This is pathetic.", It ruptured out of his mouth in a choked back sob, "You shouldn't…I wasn't…fuck."

"Hey, now.", You carefully scooted a little closer to the dirty mess of a mattress he was sitting on, "Clay, take a breath and please talk to me about what's going on."

"Fuck off!" He spat back, turning his head away from you but you still could see a few vagrant tears running down his cheeks.

"No." You stated bluntly, stopping in your movements to give him room.

"I-...I can't do this shit anymore..", Clay's voice rendered sore and out of breath with every word, "Fuck…I-...I wasn't supposed to wake up."

At his sudden confession all the pieces in your mind fell into place and you were painfully sure to feel something breaking inside of you. A jolt of emotional hurt and plain dread ruptured through your chest, threatening to knock the air out of your lungs as the man in front of you lost his posture entirely and slumped into you, wailing and crying violently.

You caught him in a loose embrace, you recognised your body doing it but your mind could hardly catch up with what was happening.

"Oh God…I should've texted you back. Should've picked up the damn phone. Fucking hell, shit, Clay, I'm so sorry." Your own voice started cracking and flailing dangerously as the weight of what had presumably happened doubled down on you.

"No…no. I'm not your…not your problem." He sniffled into your shoulder, his weak body shaking with every heavy sob erupting from the depths of his lungs.

His croaked out words served yet another fatal hit against your already rapidly crumbling composure. You felt like simply breaking down right here, too, the need for crying and screaming all the pain and guilt out of you growing stronger with every desperate whimper of his that cut right to your bones. However, you forced yourself to keep your shit together, simply had to for Clay right now.

"Issok…", You hummed into the crown of his head, carefully tightening your embrace around his slender shoulders, "You're not a problem or a burden to me. Don't you ever think that, Clay."

Your tender words were only met by a new, reckless wave of breathless cries.

"Help me, please, help me." He whined out, the realization about the reality of his own situation heavy in his voice.

"I will, I promise. You heard that?! I promise!"

[batty4steddie]

The Christmas Cold

For day 20 of @steddiemas Sick Day/Winter Blues ❄️💙❄️ written in partnership with @spicycinnabun💙 | WC: 5,848 | Rating: T | Read, kudos or comment on ao3 💙

The week leading up to Christmas, Steve was in the middle of a Christmas cookie bake-off with his mother. He hadn’t heard from Eddie. He thought that they were going to go ice skating tonight, but Eddie sounded horrible.

Steve took the call in his bedroom. “Baby, what’s the matter?” he asked, dusting flour off his apron nervously. He was already concerned about how nasally his boyfriend sounded.

Instead of an answer, a coughing fit followed by three sneezes was all he heard. 

“Bless you,” Steve said cautiously, worried there would be another sneeze.

Eddie had really wanted to go ice skating. He’d planned to surprise Steve with a light show of illegal fireworks helpfully set off by Gareth and the boys. He also had a special gift that he was going to present to Steve at the end of it. 

That wasn’t happening now, and it was all his stupid body’s fault. 

There had been a tickle in Eddie’s throat that he had been stubbornly ignoring all week, and last night, it had finally turned into an all-out cold with bonus fever. He was so disappointed he’d ruined their Christmas date.

“Steeb, I’m sick,” Eddie eventually said after blowing his nose loudly. 

Steve held the phone away from his ear as his heart ached for him. “You sound it,” he said softly. “You need me to bring you something? Medicine? Soup? Yeah, I’ll make you some soup when I come over. We just finished baking Christmas cookies. I’ll bring you and Wayne some of those, too.”

Eddie clutched the phone, listening to his boyfriend’s angelic voice crooning in his ear. “Yes, please. Sweet aygel, sweetheart. Cub over.”

This wasn’t the first time that Eddie had called Steve an angel. It was becoming more and more of a thing. The last time Eddie had called him that, they were in a very intimate situation. Steve’s cheeks got rosy from the memory.

“I just hope I doht pass away before you get here,” Eddie added. 

Eddie was dying. When he swallowed, it felt like his throat was lined with razor blades. His eyes were red from getting no sleep (and maybe a tinybout of emotional weeping), and he was getting a cough that was steadily worsening and rattling his chest. His nostrils were absolutely fucking useless at this point, too. He couldn’t breathe out of either one, but they were simultaneously leaking like a faucet. 

He had a mountain of used Kleenex by his bed, and Wayne had even set up the Vicks vaporizer on his nightstand that was steaming away by his pathetic, puffy face.

“What?” Steve furrowed his brow in concern. What Eddie said was jarring. “Eddie? Are you there? Eddie bear, are you okay?”

Eddie thought he said a garbled see you soon and love you to Steve, but he’d actually just passed out with the phone smooshed against his cheek mid-conversation. 

Wayne eased it away and held it to his ear after wiping the receiver off on his shirt. “This is Wayne. He fell asleep.”

Steve was startled when Wayne’s voice replaced Eddie’s, but he relaxed because Wayne didn’t sound concerned. Eddie wasn’t dying. He was just being as dramatic as he normally was. “Oh.” Of course.

Eddie had fallen asleep on the phone with him before, but the last time was because they were arguing about who should hang up first. Steve had been pissed when Eddie actually fell asleep. That made him have to hang up first. Steve had given him the cold shoulder for an entire day. He was surprised he’d made it that long. Ultimately, he hadn’t been able to stand not talking to Eddie anymore, and he’d gotten over it.

This was different, though. Steve wasn’t mad. He was worried. At least Wayne was there for now.

Wayne looked at his nephew, who let out a soft, wheezing snore. He looked miserable, wearing a pout like he was eight years old again. “Appreciate you comin’ over. I gotta head to work in half an hour.” 

Eddie was an adult and would have been fine on his own, but Wayne still didn’t want his kid to be alone. It was far from his first time taking care of Eddie like this. When he was just a kiddo and he got sick, Wayne would step in since his dipshit of a brother was never there to take care of the boy. Not when he was really needed as a parent. Always conveniently missing in those times.

Steve blushed when he realized the last thing he had said was Eddie’s pet name. Had Wayne overheard that? God. “I’ll be there soon.” He rubbed his hand over his face after he ended the call.

He didn’t have long to get there before Wayne had to go to work. Steve packed an overnight bag with some clothes and toiletries. He raided the medicine cabinet for a few different cold medicines, then the pantry for various soups and flavors he thought Eddie would like.

Steve already had his date outfit picked out. He ditched the apron and put on his holiday reindeer sweater.

Before leaving, he put together two different containers of cookies so Eddie and Wayne would each have their own. They both had bad sweet tooths. 

When Steve arrived, Wayne accepted the Christmas cookies and ruffled his hair in thanks. Steve looked a little embarrassed by the gesture, blushing visibly like he did whenever Wayne did anything fatherly to him, but Wayne didn’t think he minded. From what Eddie had told him, Steve’s dad was about just as useless as Al, though in a different way. 

Wayne had two kids now. Eddie was infatuated with the Harrington boy, and that made them family. Wayne had given Steve a bit of a hard time in the beginning, protective as he was of Eddie, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out Steve was an honest, genuine individual who cared for Eddie very much. 

“Tell your mother thank you for me,” Wayne said as he put on his coat and cap by the door. He grabbed the Tupperware and tucked it under his arm. “These are delicious.” He was taking the rest to eat during his break.

Wayne was always about a thousand times more affectionate towards him than Steve’s own dad had ever been. It still made him feel flustered whenever Wayne was warm to him.

“Promise I will,” he agreed. “Have a good night at work.”

Wayne headed out the door, and Steve went into the kitchen to drop off the cookies and cans of soup he brought. He heard Eddie's labored stuffed-up snoring while he was standing in the kitchen, so he took himself and his bag down the hallway to Eddie’s room.

Eddie’s nose looked bright red when Steve saw him, giving Rudolph a run for his money. The rest of him was even paler than usual. Steve still found him really fucking cute. His heart was fluttering like usual, though he felt bad that Eddie was so sick. 

Steve did a quick tidying of all the used tissues. Eddie’s room was even more chaotic than usual. He straightened the rest of it up, too. He just wasn’t sure what else to do. Eddie was dead asleep, and he’d never taken care of someone who was sick before. He knew that he could do it, and he wanted to. He didn’t want to disturb Eddie’s sleep either. If he was asleep, he was fine.

Once Steve was done cleaning, he carefully sat on the edge of Eddie’s bed and felt his forehead. He was burning up. Steve got up and went into the bathroom for a washcloth. He ran cold water over it to get it nice and cool before wringing it out. When he returned, he gently placed it on Eddie’s forehead in hopes of cooling the fever down some. 

Eddie had fallen into a deep doze. That was rare. He was a guy who usually slept lightly, with weird shit dreams fueled by Miss Mary Jane or nightmares that spooked him into waking. His body was getting uncomfortably hot underneath the covers, though, and as he started to sweat, he came back to consciousness. 

His eyelids fluttered when something cool landed on his forehead. It was a relief, and it made him whimper quietly. His eyes cracked open, and he saw a brown-eyed, brown-haired angel hovering over him.

“Steeby,” Eddie said, giving him a loopy smile. “You’re here.” 

“I am,” Steve said, smiling back.

Eddie was so happy to see him. He sat up even though his head was pounding, the damp cloth falling onto his lap, and held out his arms. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to be held by his gorgeous hunk in his incredibly dorky reindeer sweater. Steve would make everything better. He looked so cozy and probably smelled lovely, like warm cinnamon from the cookies and his cologne, and… 

Eddie wasn’t even going to be able to smell him. Fuck, that made him sad.

He realized something as he sat there with his arms out like an expectant toddler. He was contagious. Also disgusting. Eddie deflated, dropping them by his sides morosely. “Oh, I guess you probably doht wadda hug be right dow, huh.” Why did Eddie sound so adorable and pitiful right now?

Steve wasn’t expecting him to be so happy that he was there or to sit up so quickly. Of course he wanted a cuddle. Steve wanted to embrace him, too. He didn’t care that Eddie was sick. He just wanted to make him feel better. His face softened, and he shook his head. “Hey, no, that’s not true.” 

Steve picked up the washcloth that had fallen into Eddie’s lap and unfolded it. “You just need a little tidying. You’re still cute, though. You might have to call me Steeby when you don’t have a cold. I like it.” Steve chuckled as he gently wiped the crusty bits from Eddie’s pretty face.

It was a little embarrassing to be de-snotified. If Eddie weren’t already burning up, he’d probably blush under the gentle swipes of the cloth and equally soft teasing. It felt nice to be doted on, though. Steve was such a sweetheart. Eddie didn’t deserve him.

“I’m gonna hug the hell out of you now.” Steve put the cloth on the nightstand and then shifted Eddie to lie back.

Eddie perked up visibly at the words, letting himself be moved wherever Steve pleased as his boyfriend climbed onto the bed with him.

Steve moved to lay beside him comfortably and pulled Eddie into his arms. “I’m sorry you’re not feelin' good, baby.” 

When Steve’s arms were snug around him, and Eddie was pulled against that broad, reindeer-covered chest, he made an audible moan of happiness, nuzzling into the soft, fleecy fabric. “Oh yeah. Shit, I feel better already. Ad I’b the sorry wod, Steeb. I ruid our Christmas date.”

Eddie glanced at the door. His rented hockey skates were hanging on the doorknob by the laces, the sharp blades covered with black protectors. Steve’s present was hidden in his dresser drawer. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You couldn’t help getting sick,” Steve told Eddie while lightly stroking his warm cheek with his thumb. “This is exactly how I wanted our date to end anyway. Us in your bed, cuddling just like this.”

‘Course, he had figured they would’ve gotten to fuck before the cuddles, but he loved being close to Eddie in any way he could be.

Eddie let out a wheezing sigh. Unfortunately, that prompted a coughing fit, which he tried to shelter Steve from by curling away as he hacked. Steve winced a little. Eddie flopped back against Steve when it was over, head-butting gently under his chin. Steve rubbed Eddie’s chest, then rested his hand over his heart.

“Did you have fud bakig with your bob?” Eddie asked.

He knew Steve had spent the afternoon in the kitchen whipping up holiday treats. Eddie was picturing Steve in a frilly little apron covered in flour, bending over to put cookies in the oven. (Mrs. Harrington was excluded from his mental picture because it wasn’t exactly an innocent one. Even being on death’s doorstep couldn’t totally fry Eddie’s libido. He couldn’t wait to feel better again so he could eat his boyfriend’s goodies. The cookies, too.)

“Yeah, of course. We listened to Christmas music, and I got to lick all of the spoons.” Steve chuckled. “I brought you some of everything we made. You don’t even have to share with Wayne. I brought him his own.” 

Eddie hated sharing. That was great news. 

“You’re such a geb, Steeby,” Eddie replied, smiling. That was a tiny hint about Steve’s Christmas gift —not that Steve would catch on. Steve’s expression said he didn’t understand what the fuck Eddie had said at all. “A diabud?” More confused lip pursing from Steve. “A precious stode?”

Eddie must’ve been delirious. Steve couldn’t make out what he was saying like he could earlier. He was trying to listen, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. He even turned his ear towards Eddie’s mouth, but none of it made sense. He was a geb, diabud and stode?

“What?” Steve asked.

Eddie sighed. Being cute wasn’t working.

“You’re the best boyfred,” he clarified. That, at least, couldn’t be misconstrued by his nasal inability to pronounce any m' s or n' s.

 “Aw.”

Steve was beyond flattered. He figured that those other things were just various compliments. The last statement, though, made his chest puff up with pride. He tried to and wanted to be a good boyfriend, but the best? Yeah, he’d take that.

“Love you,” Eddie continued in a softer tone as his eyelids grew heavy again. 

Steve smiled and managed to say that he loved Eddie back, but he wasn’t sure if Eddie had heard it. Loud, stuffed-up snoring resumed within seconds of Eddie’s eyes falling shut. 

It took a week for Eddie’s cold to ease up enough for him to do everyday things like leave the trailer. 

After he had woken up, Steve had herded him into the shower, and then mother henned him with hot soup and more cuddles. He’d taken care of Eddie even after Wayne got back and kept stopping by through the week to see him and spend time with him. 

Eddie was more than grateful because he had been so fucking bored being stuck in his bed that he had been driving himself (and Wayne) insane. He hadn’t been able to focus enough to read any of his books, and his headaches had made listening to music or playing his guitar a miserable experience. 

But he and Steve had watched many movies snuggled up on the La-Z-boy together. With the volume low, it had been perfect. Eddie was pretty sure they’d gone through Family Video’s entire catalogue. It’d also given him a lot of insight into the types of movies Steve liked (bad ones).

Unfortunately, Eddie didn’t get better as quickly as Steve thought he would. Eddie hadn’t gotten to work, play music or run campaigns. It was a real Christmas miracle that he was all better by Christmas Eve, and they could go on their much anticipated ice-skating date.

Steve had been diligent in taking care of him every night after work. He’d bring a new movie, make dinner to ensure Eddie had one good meal, and make sure he was taking his medicine. Steve had allowed him one Christmas cookie during their nightly movies.

Usually, Eddie ended up falling asleep halfway through. Steve had known by the second night that it probably hadn’t had much to do with him being sick. Steve had cackled at all the dumb and funny parts, but Eddie had seemed disinterested and had only smiled at Steve’s delight. Steve hadn’t minded.

The way Eddie had clung to him when he was sick had been different than usual. Steve liked feeling needed, and it had felt like they’d gotten even closer. That was the snuggliest Eddie had ever been with him. He had been more than earning his Eddie bear nickname. 

Eddie was excited to be outside, breathing fresh air. And while there wouldn’t be any fireworks that night, sadly, since Eddie’s boys had Christmas Eve plans of their own, some cheerful holiday music was being played from the ice rink speakers, and snow was falling, making the ground sparkle. It was acceptably romantic.

Eddie liked how the cold air made Steve’s cheeks and lips look so pink, and he had snowflakes in his hair, catching in his eyelashes. 

“You better not fucking laugh when I fall on my face,” Eddie said, giving Steve a look as he took both of his mittened hands and shuffled onto the ice like an awkward baby deer. He knew he should have practiced first. Skating was more challenging than he thought it would be.

“No falling on your face. There is a proper way to fall, and it is on your butt. Falling is par for the course,” Steve promised.

“And of course you’re perfect at skating, you talented hunk,” Eddie muttered, flailing a little when Steve let go of his hands. Steve was standing there on the ice with the same confident posture he wore on the basketball court.

Steve laughed. He’d played ice hockey growing up, so he had advanced skills, but he could teach Eddie, too. It really wasn’t that hard. “Thanks. You kind of look even more like Bambi on those skates than you normally do.”

Eddie was so cute Steve could barely stand it. He was in his leather jacket, but his appearance was softened by the fabric of his scarf, gloves and hat. Steve was beyond smitten. The light snow made it the most Christmas-y atmosphere ever.

Eddie huffed lightly. Or he would’ve if he could concentrate on anything but the frigid dancefloor his feet were slipping and sliding all over. Steve loved to compare him to cute little forest animals instead of the metal badass he was. He would admit, though, that he wasn’t doing his best impression of badassery right then. “Just watch me for a second.” Steve fell back comically to soften the blow on the ice. He smiled up at Eddie from down on his butt. “Try to fall like that. Remember, if you feel like you’re going to fall, put your hands on your knees, then fall on your butt.”

“I don’t have as much cushioning as you do,” Eddie complained. “You know my ass is ninety-five percent bone!”

Steve shifted onto his hands and knees. “Then to get up, turn over like this.” Steve winked after he got into the position. He knew Eddie could easily get on all fours since he’d done it for him.

Eddie’s eyes widened, mock scandalized. "Steven! You hussy!”

He was going to have fantasies now of them doing it doggy-style in their skates. But hey, Steve’s scarf was perfect for using like a leash…

Steve lifted a knee so one of his skate blades rested on the ice. “Put both hands on your knee and push yourself up.” Steve did that and got himself up with no problem.

“Alright, okay,” Eddie said, putting his hands on his hips and then quickly thinking better of it when that made him tip. Keeping balance, even just standing on the ice, was proving complicated.

He kept his arms out like a fool instead while he watched Steve. Eddie’s legs tensed as he slowly glided forward and almost ran into someone zipping around the rink. Since he had rented hockey skates and not figure skates, there was none of those toe-spikey things to stop him.

“To get started, you march.” Steve did a little march forward to get moving. “Once you have momentum, you can glide forward. Squeeze your butt.” Steve squeezed his cheeks as he glided along, smirking as Eddie’s eyes dipped to his ass. 

“Nice form, Coach Harrington,” Eddie teased.

“I can also show you a trick. It’s called a swizzle. Swizzling is just forming two shapes. An A and V with the skates. It’s easy and fun once you get it down.” Steve continued with the demonstration. “To go backwards, all you gotta do is wiggle your butt while doing the opposite with the skates. V then the A shape.”

Eddie appreciated the demonstration. It made him feel like less of a complete failure, and Steve was a cute teacher. He tried to focus on what Steve was saying, but it was difficult to with all the butt flexing and wiggling going on. Steve’s butt was truly a gift to the world. Eddie’s world, especially.  

Steve got to wiggling his butt and quickly made his way back to where Eddie was standing. He stopped with precision right in front of him. “Got it?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Absolutely,” Eddie responded confidently. He absolutely did not have it.

Steve took Eddie’s hands and placed them on his hips. He looked forward again and started to march like he had instructed Eddie to do when you began to skate. He smiled when he felt Eddie starting to march along with him. They went forward. “That’s right. Just like this.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hips as Steve led him along like a mother duck leading its duckling, barely able to feel them through the thickness of his puffer jacket. Eddie copied his movements as best as he could and grinned when they started picking up speed. It was making his heart race. It was fun.

Steve smiled, and when they began to glide together, he broke away from Eddie’s hold. He quickly picked up momentum by swizzling his way around the rink. He was confident that Eddie could do it once he wasn’t holding onto him anymore.

Eddie wasn’t totally ready for Steve to let go, but he kept up with the simple gliding and managed not to faceplant as Steve showed him his swizzle trick. It was cool to see. Steve had a lot of skill on the ice. He made it look so easy and natural.

Eddie watched in amusement as Steve turned around and came back to him, starting to skate circles around him. “Show off.” On his next pass, Eddie reached out and tried to catch him, laughing when he missed and remembering to clench so he didn’t fall. “You slippery fucker!”

When they got tired of playing, and Eddie had fallen a handful of times - not hurting himself or his bony ass thanks to Steve’s method – they got off the pond and put on their skate guards, heading over to the large, windowed pavilion with their duffle bags. It was heated inside, and there was a vending machine that sold hot coffee and hot chocolate. Eddie bought them a hot chocolate while Steve saved them a bench by one of the floor heaters.

After they removed their skates, they sat down with their styrofoam cups cupped in their hands and their woolly-socked feet toasting over the vent. Eddie watched through the windows at the other couples on the pond. He felt a pang of longing. They were all holding hands. He wished he could’ve held Steve’s hand while they’d skated, but they had to keep up the friends-only charade in public. It was bullshit.

Usually, Eddie didn’t give a crap about following societal norms even if people hated him for it, but this was a situation where he couldn’t just stick his middle finger in the air and say fuck it. Steve’s safety was on the line. Eddie had heard about what happened to homo couples on the news plenty of times.

If he showed his affection where people could see it, they could be targeted. Steve could end up hurt or worse. Eddie absolutely wouldn’t risk that, no matter how angry it made him.

Maybe if they moved to LA or the Big Apple, where people were more open-minded, they could have the luxury of being themselves, of being together for real.

So, instead of wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders, Eddie kept his hands to himself, but he did sit close enough that their thighs were touching. “Cold,” he said to excuse it.

Steve had so much fun showing off and skating with Eddie. They’d both fallen a couple of times and had fun chasing each other. Steve would’ve loved to hold Eddie’s hand and twirl him around. It was hard not getting to participate in the same public displays of affection he was used to, but when they were alone, it was always worth the wait.

Eddie wondered if Steve had ever done this with Nancy. He had probably held her hand. Steve had given up a lot by entering into a relationship with him. Eddie suppressed a sigh. The small velvet box in his coat felt weighted like a stone. Eddie put his hand in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around it. If he gave it to Steve, would he just be trapping him?

They had arrived at the pond pretty late, so by the time they finished their cocoas, almost everyone had gone home. Eddie was still stewing over whether or not his gift was a good idea, lost in moody silence. 

Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet as they had their cocoa and warmed up. Steve was wondering why. He saw that Eddie’s gaze was lingering on the rink. He wished that he could read his mind. He hoped that Eddie had fun. Going skating had been his idea. 

It must’ve been getting close to closing time. Steve noticed they were alone, and the soft background Christmas music had stopped. Steve squeezed Eddie’s thigh to get his attention. “Hey, do you want your Christmas present now?”

Eddie had been so disappointed when Metallica cancelled their last Indiana show because the lead singer had broken his wrist the day of. When Steve had heard there was a chance to win tickets and backstage passes to their show in the new year on the radio, he’d kept it tuned to the rock station while he’d worked. He’d even roped Robin into using the store’s second line just so he could get through. Due to his dumb luck and fast fingers, he had been caller number twenty.

Eddie’s frown smoothed out, and he turned towards Steve with a soft smile. “Yeah,” he said, touched that Steve had bought him something. Steve quickly unzipped his coat and pulled out a thick red envelope. He handed it over with a nervous smile. He’d written Eddie’s name on the outside. The I of Eddie had been dotted with a heart. Inside was a cute Christmas card representing the nickname he’d used tonight, and the tickets and passes he’d won were tucked inside it. Under them was a short and sweet message: Merry Christmas, baby! Love, Stevie

He bit down on his lower lip while Eddie opened the envelope, then laughed happily when Eddie immediately fawned over the deer.

“This is so fucking cute,” Eddie told him.

“Yeah, that’s you,” Steve agreed. His smile grew when Eddie opened the card, and the actual present came into view. Eddie’s expression turned from disbelief to pure delight. 

There were sparkles in Eddie’s eyes as he lifted the tickets and read them. The card had been enough itself. It was the sweetest thing, and Eddie would keep it forever. But these —tickets!!!  

“Oh my god! Steve! ” Eddie threw his arms around Steve, hugging him tightly. He didn’t even think to look around and make sure the pavilion was empty first. “This is so fucking cool, sweetheart, thank you so much. I can’t wait to go with you.” 

Eddie’s reaction was better than Steve could’ve imagined. He was thrilled when Eddie yelled and instantly pulled him into a hug. Steve squeezed him back and smiled so big that it hurt.

Eddie was grinning when he pulled back in a way that he was sure looked completely fucking manic, but he had been positive he wasn’t going to be seeing Metallica any time soon. Especially after he’d been stiffed his refund for the last cancelled show. “How did you get these?” 

As far as he knew, the show had already been sold out for a few weeks. His jaw dropped when Steve told him he’d won them over the radio. “Are you serious? I tried calling in all afternoon!” Eddie yelled, taking Steve’s shoulders and shaking him playfully. He laughed. “I was so mad! I had to stop because I had to go to work. I didn’t get to hear the winner.” 

Steve laughed, too. He felt a little woozy from being squeezed and shaken up, especially after consuming the hot chocolate. It was so comical that they both had been calling. Luckily, Steve had already been at work, and it was a good thing Eddie hadn’t heard that a guy from Hawkins had won.

Eddie laughed to himself again, rubbing the tickets between his fingers like they were made of pure gold. His smile shrank a little as that reminded him of the ring. 

He swallowed hard, his hands starting to tremble and sweat. He was excited but nervous. He had his fears about the future of their relationship, but his fears were more founded on how the world outside the two of them would try to break them apart. Steve was his person, his soulmate.Eddie felt that so strongly, with all his heart, that it was terrifying as much as it was thrilling. He hoped Steve felt the same way about him. That he wanted Eddie for real, for keeps.

“I got you something, too.” Eddie carefully tucked the tickets back into the card, hand going to his pocket again. He pulled out the velvet box, watching Steve’s face. His heart was pounding so hard Steve could probably hear it. 

He wasn’t proposing —it wasn’t fucking legal, for one - but for how serious he felt, he may as well have been down on one knee. 

They hadn’t planned on exchanging gifts that night or at least hadn’t said they were. Steve had thought they might. That was why he’d brought the tickets, but hearing that Eddie had something for him, too, made him flush a little. He wasn’t used to receiving gifts. He loved giving more, and of course, his parents had gotten him nice things because they could, but he’d worked for everything he had now.

Eddie seemed nervous. He was shaking like a little leaf, but his hand steadied when he pulled the gift out. 

Steve instantly knew it was a jewelry box. His mind went to the necklace Eddie had given him, and he smiled. It hadn’t come in a box like this, but Eddie had put it on him one night when they were lying in bed, and he hadn’t taken it off since.

Eddie popped the little clasp with his thumb, and the box opened, revealing a yellow-gold band with a small square sapphire in the center. It was the most extravagant thing he’d ever purchased. He’d done everything he could to save up for it. He’d even borrowed some money from Uncle Wayne (which he’d tried to refuse multiple times, but Wayne hadn’t let him). 

Steve’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t believe Eddie was giving him a ring. An incredibly beautiful and expensive-looking ring. 

“I really love you, Steve. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I only want to be with you, and I’ve known that for a while now.” Eddie’s voice was low and thick with emotion. “This ring symbolizes my loyalty and commitment to you. And… it would be an honor if you would accept it.” 

Eddie didn’t take the ring out of the box or say it would make him the happiest man alive, although it would. The last thing he wanted to do was guilt Steve into wearing it.

Despite most signs pointing to Steve accepting, Eddie was still braced for a rejection. Since it was Steve – the big sweetheart - it would be a gentle one, at least. Steve would be logical. Maybe he’d say it was too soon, that they hadn’t been dating long enough to really know they wanted each other for the long haul. They were going steady, but they weren’t promise ring steady yet, and that was okay, but now just wasn’t the time.

Life, after all, rarely went the way you wanted it to. Eddie had experienced more than his share of letdowns through the years. It hadn’t stopped him from being naïve as hell, hadn’t stopped him from continuously being the idiot who got his hopes up, who wished and waited, even when the odds were laughably slim.

But Steve wasn’t like his dad, and Steve wasn’t someone who saw him as nothing but his last name. Steve wasn’t using him or blackmailing him. Steve saw the real him, the real Eddie, and still wanted to be around him. Wanted him for the right reasons and not because he just needed something from him.

They were already going steady, but Steve listened to what Eddie had to say. It felt like he was going to melt. His cheeks got even rosier, and his eyes started to sting really bad. “Eddie, I love you too. I want that, too. I’m never going to take it off,” he promised as he took it out of the box and put it on.

Steve wasn’t rejecting him. Eddie was a little horrified when Steve’s eyes got glassy and filled with tears until he spoke, and Eddie realized they were happy tears and Steve was putting on his ring, saying everything Eddie had hoped to hear.

Steve wasn’t sure how, but it fit perfectly on his ring finger. Steve let a couple of tears fall as he looked at it, then took his ring-clad hand, cupped Eddie’s face with it and kissed him.

Eddie could feel the cool metal of the ring on his cheek, a stark contrast to the warmth of Steve’s palm. It sent a bolt of emotion zinging through Eddie. Steve was wearing his ring! Steve wanted him! Steve loved him! Those thoughts twirled in Eddie’s head like a carousel as Steve kissed him. Of course, Steve had told him he loved him already more than a few times, but this cemented it. Eddie kissed him back tenderly, sparks flying behind his closed eyelids.

Not even a mountain of perkies could give Eddie the feelings he was experiencing now. He felt like he was a million miles up in the sky, like his heart was too big for his chest and it would explode.

Eddie reached up to brush away the tears leaking from Steve’s eyes. Tears of happiness. When they broke apart, Eddie pulled Steve’s hand off his cheek and kissed his palm, warming the ring with his lips. His smile was as bright as the lights as he lowered Steve’s hand and cradled it between his own. “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

[awesomefringey]

This is different from the other ask I just sent you, but everyone needs to remember that we can't judge the relationships during the band as fact when absolutely none of them were real.

Zayn dated and got engaged to Perrie. Perrie was from another up-and-coming band under Syco and won the Xfactor. Zayn had dated a girl during the Xfactor, so his dating another girl didn't seem so farfetched. Perrie and Little Mix got a fuck ton of promotion from being associated with One Direction, from ticket sales to album sales, especially outside of the UK. They probably would have been ok in the UK, but the exposure to the rest of the world through Zerrie was really helpful.

Liam had two relationships during the band. Danielle Panzer and Sophia Smith. Danielle was already a dancer on the Xfactor, attempting to find fame in various ways. Placing her with Liam put her name out there to the entire world; I remember she tried modeling for a little bit, but they ultimately broke up after the Up All Night Tour (I think). Sophia was different. She was Liam's childhood friend, and they seemed to have a comradery from their shared experiences and growing up together. However, Sophia also attempted to be a model in the UK during their relationship, as Liam Payne's girlfriend got her exposure. She was known to the fandom as a model and often spent time with Perrie and Eleanor when they were all supposed to be with the boys.

Harry and Louis were obvious with Harry's winter girlfriends, and Louis openly looked miserable with Eleanor during the majority of their relationships, the first time and the second.

Niall was different than all of them; other than Harry, he was supposed to be the single one. The available one, for the fans to think they had a chance with. Similar to how Harry was treated in the Media. Niall also admitted more recently that he'd been in a relationship from 17 to 19 but wasn't allowed to tell the fans because it would ruin his available image.

While I could definitely believe that Liam and Zayn are both some level of queer since they had fake relationships too. I think the only true relationships in the band besides Larry are (Niall and Amelia) Zayn and Gigi. I have reason to believe that Liam and Cheryl were more of a friend asking another friend to be the father of their child since, compared to the rest of Liam's relationships, Cheryl is the only one who seemed to care about him when he got sick last August/September. Though this is just my opinion about the whole thing since every relationship regarding this band has been shady.

I honestly couldn’t say whether Zayn’s and Liam’s relationships were designed to boost publicity or if it was two people with a similar lifestyle and the beneficial side effect of PR.

However, fake dating for publicity is a common marketing tactic, and I don't see why Modest Management wouldn't use that effective strategy with as many members of the band as possible, regardless of their sexual orientation.

Oh God, Cheryl and Liam? They were such an odd pair. They always made me scratch my head. And naming the kid Bear, when RBB/SBB were literally the babygate mascots just a year or so before… seriously, what were they thinking? 🫠

[queen--of--shadows]

A Formidable Pair: Part 1

Azriel x Reader

Summary: As spymaster to the Spring Court, the Reader meets her unfriendly match from the Night Court as they work together to train, rebuild and repair Court relations. 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 865

Notes: hi friends im back 🥲 first and foremost thank you to the anon who requested this! I love your prompts and had so much fun writing a short intro to this new series! I apologize for the unexpected hiatus—I had already written this chapter once before then lost all of my work when my laptop crashed 🥲🥲 anyways I hope you all enjoy! I aim to get the next chapter out sometime this week 🖤

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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

Sweat gathered and trickled down your neck as the thick, sweltering spring air weighed heavy with the creep of the afternoon sun. Winters in the Spring Court were enjoyable for the average female, a vacation spot even. But as a member of the Autumn Court, and despite your many years of serving the High Lord of Spring, you hated your posting here.

“Does that sound alright, Y/N?” Tamlin asked, his shoulder-length golden hair catching the light with a slight cock of his head.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, tilting your chin down, hands clasped tightly behind your back.

You had been trained for this since you could remember how to walk. Your parents, close friends of the Vanserra family, had recognized your talents from childhood and began lessons under the spymasters of the Autumn Court.

Bred for stealth, obedience, discipline, brutality, lethality.

You were unforgiving. Cold and distant. Like all good spymasters were.

Just like the Night Court spymaster, now standing at your side.

The High Lord of the Night Court’s lapdog.

Lucien had asked you weeks ago to serve as lead spy for a few months as they attempted to repair and rebuild not only physically, but also their relations with the other Courts and High Lords. You accepted, but not without letting Lucien know that he owed you big time. You hated being in the spotlight like this. And the deathly glare you snuck in before averting your gaze back to Tamlin served as a reminder to the handsome redhead, his mouth parted now in a wicked grin.

The past few months, you had been working as Spring Court emissary and spy, traveling to both the mortal lands and across Prythian to the other Courts on behalf of Tamlin to improve relations. Winter, Summer, Autumn, Day and Dawn.

But you hadn’t signed up to work alongside the Shadowsinger, his presence now like an oily stain to your left.

You had been avoiding the Night Court as long as possible. A war-mongering people, their long history of vicious brutality initially intrigued you, but their arrogance and ego, whether a front or not, were repulsive enough that you learned to stay away.

But the Winter Solstice Party was nearing, an invaluable opportunity to show that the People of Spring wanted peace. The trip up north became inevitable.

Rhysand and his spymaster had been visiting over the past week, traveling throughout the Court with Tamlin to learn how he had been rebuilding since Amarantha’s reign tore the entire southernmost lands of Prythian apart. You were praying to the Gods that he wouldn’t rope you into whatever political games he was playing. Still, to your dismay, Tamlin requested that you and the Shadowsinger train the new class of spies in the Spring Court over the next few days before heading north to attend the Solstice Party with Lucien.

If the shadows that nearly enveloped the tall male to your side were any indication of how he felt about being here, this next week would be absolutely miserable.

It wasn’t the bland mask hiding the killer underneath that bothered you. It wasn’t the shadows constantly whispering in his ears, nor was it his deadly, unrelenting gaze as he assessed you like a threat in your own Court. No, it was the haughty, pompous, self-important swagger, the fact that he hadn’t said more than two words to you since his arrival. You knew, just knew he considered himself a better spy than you.

That wouldn’t stand. No, that was going to change. You would shred his Illyrian pride to bits.

You kept your face neutral and didn’t let any emotions shine as you sketched a bow to your High Lord and made your way out to the training rings, sending a silent fuck you to Lucien, who still donned that wicked grin.

You heard the Shadowsinger muttering to Rhysand, likely receiving instructions from his High Lord about what information he wanted over the next week, before the violet-eyed male winnowed away. Then the near-silent footsteps trailing behind you.

He remained wordless as he followed, but his shadows indicated his presence, snaking along the floor lazily—a silent warning. You snorted.

“Is there a problem?”

You stopped in your tracks.

His words caught you off guard. Guttural and deep and dark, like the cold midnight sky given a voice.

You wiped any expression off your face, save for mild amusement, as you turned on your heel to face him.

“I’ve never met a spy that had to rely on anything other than their own wit and training,” you said sweetly. “Your…pets are interesting.” A dark, inky shadow circled you curiously, like a snake assessing its prey.

He pinned you with an icy, lethal stare—the mask of a trained killer, an Illyrian warrior.

A flicker of annoyance shone in his hazel eyes, glowing bright in the sunny rays streaming through the windows lining the halls of the manor.

He stalked quietly past you and out into the courtyard to the spies-in-training, his steps swift and precise.

Ice coated your veins at his dismissal.

You pushed against the rage threatening to lock up your limbs, following the winged asshole outside.

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

taglist: @cute-baby-ducks @brekkershadowsinger @iangelofmusic @j-pendragonx @foggypeanutmongeroaf @luckypersonmentality @eddiesbixch696 @davinaclaire16 @lexie1o9 @thewarriormoon @halfmeltedcandles @cartoonnerdgirl @wrensical003 @abigailrose98 @cafe-inaaa @moonlightazriel @caosfanblr @redbleedingrose @lovebookie123 @sarahstone217 @minetticatinwonderland @jtargs @bookish-dream @blurredlamplight @rellik181 @simplywitchy @his-sweet-nightmare @theravenphoenix26 @icantthinkofanythingplease @sebby-staan @brooke3132 @azriels-angels @mrs-azriel @sparklymiraclecheesecake @cityofidek @dreambeliever13 @atlascorriganlovescookies @fo-cus @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @elenas-safe-spot @dreambeliever13 @mysticalcheescakemiracle @marina468

[quillkiller]

bartylus!! Thoughts?

they make me sick in the head.. sick i tell you.. but i’ve compiled a little collection of posts for you about them <3 + there’s a lot of stuff under my /bartylus tag!!

this is a fic im currently writing but honestly im writing it so slowly that im starting to doubt it’ll ever be posted. it’s loosely based on the orpheus and eurydice myth but darker. long story short barty brings him back after the cave and it changes nothing in the narrative. miserable <3

this is a poem by richard siken that drives me crazy and is also a huge inspiration for my bartylus opheus/eurydice au……. like: ”Okay, so I’m the dragon. Big deal. You still get to be the hero.” and ”You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.” and ”The entire history of human desire takes about seventy minutes to tell. Unfortunately we don’t have that kind of time.” - but honestly. the entire poem makes me feel sick to my stomach about bartylus

bartylus moodboard i made a very long time ago….. when i was first getting into them….. i should really make another (better) one…..

and!!!! i read this bartylus microfic by @carniferous a while back which made me fucking choke. i hadn’t thought about bartylus in a while because i’ve been absolutely insane over over ships (bellucius, lurthur, maryjames, tl, etc…). like i genuinely had to lay down after reading it and i frequently go back to it still to reread it. ”you were hardly the first to ask,” ”i didn’t ask,” like are you JOKINGGTTTTGGG. i think about it sometimes randomly at work and my head starts spinning. genuinely insane. please follow dil and read their fics and microfics. insane insane insane

bartylus makes me insane. i used to be sort of anti bartylus as a ship ???? like it just didn’t make sense to me at all for a while and then something just. clicked. probably thanks to @stillagoodwitch…… my favorite version of them is canon bartylus i think. everythings miserable and awful, but they’re also just teenage boys at magical boarding school. like yeah, sirius said he hated regulus during winter break, but barty’s waiting for him at kings cross with a black eye from his father but he’s also sporting a huge grin when he sees reg. like.. they also had fun and that drives me fucking insane. they stay up late in the common room making each other laugh and everything else (everything that’s about to come) is just background noise. like…. they’re just boys.. despite everything….

[k-s-morgan]

I heard news about a snowstorm in Ukraine that caused several deaths, and I was so worried for you. Are you okay, Morgan? Is your family safe? Are things calming down there? I keep checking for news that announces the end of this war, and it's disheartening to see that it never arrives. I can't imagine what it must be like to live through this. Is there anything we can do for you? Do you need somewhere to take refuge outside the country? Is the money you receive from your job sufficient for you and your family to live comfortably? I always check the updates you post, and it's admirable that these horrible events haven't changed the golden heart you have, you are a wonderful person and you don't deserve any of what is happening, I hate that I can't do anything to stop it this war, but whatever I can do for you I will.

please be safe, please keep fighting.

Another ask: Hey, I hope you're just busy but please give us some sign that you're okay, please. I'm worried

Another ask: Katrin, you are okay??

Another ask: You okay??

Another ask: How are you going?? Is everything already? Please asnwer 😭

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

Hi! Thank you all, you wonderful anons (and my lovely first anon, I'll respond to your questions further down in this reply). I'm so touched that you've been thinking about me! There was indeed a serious snowstorm that caused some deaths, but I'm fine: honestly, I'm such a hopeless stay-at-home introvert that I usually leave only for short trips to the shop and to feed pigeons & stray cats. So I meet most storms safely tucked in my bed))

It's all right now, though everything is still covered in snow. If there is snow where you are, too, and you see miserable pigeons or other birds around, please feed them if possible! They rely on us entirely during winters. Some grain would be ideal.

I was hoping to make a monthly post, but my tight work schedule + migraines ruined these plans, so I decided to give up on it. Russians haven't attacked my city again yet after that the most massive attack by drones. I'm pretty sure it is coming, though, especially on holidays. They tried to tun our last New Year into hell on purpose by sending missiles during the day, killing people, and then sending drones at night. I worry that this year might be even worse, but I've been teaching myself to live in the present and enjoy peace while I still have it, so I manage to keep my fears at bay.

First anon, thank you so much for your kindness! I have places where I could go and stay beyond Ukraine, but for the next year at the least, I intend to keep holding on because I can't leave without my family (and the bigger half of my family is not allowed to leave legally yet). If Russian attacks get completely unbearable, I might go to Poland to my relatives for a month or two just to unwind and to repair my sanity a bit.

As for the money, I'm doing more or less okay, and people who keep supporting me on Patreon help me to stay afloat. I have some debts, but they are under control - I owe the bank $300, which is 1/3 of my monthly salary, so I'm capable of paying it back little by little. The situation is not ideal, but nothing to worry about.

Like many Ukrainians at the moment, I feel burned out regarding the war. There are many amazing, kind people in this world, and our soldiers are absolute heroes who deserve all respect in the world, but those with power to make decisions like money way too much. It's an unfortunate fact that has been making people all over the world suffer generations after generations. Many US, European, and Chinese companies continue to help Russia manufacture its missiles and other things they use to kill us. The help Ukraine gets is enough to let us survive but not enough to let us win. Those who can make money on it eagerly grab the chance, including some members of our own government. I'd like to be optimistic, but I really don't see a scenario that would end with justice. It's very difficult to accept the fact that terrorists and murderers won't be punished - on the contrary, many of them will continue to live in luxury, unable to imagine what an explosion even sounds like, until the day they die. But like I said before, it is what it is. The world is full of bitter examples like this.

Thank you for being with me and supporting me, reading my stories and sending your asks. I hope to end this month with posting two chapters for my two stories. My second job comes to an end December 15, and hopefully, I'll get a chance to really dive into writing after this!