#genuinely though this is the most beautiful thing i’ve ever been told

[ekingston]

Re: anonymously tell me what my specialty as a fanfiction writer is

This is so fun because it’s like I get to brag about some of my favorite authors TO those authors. It’s also really hard to pick a ‘specialty’ for you - you’re a bit of a jane of all trades: character portrayal, world building, plot development, pace, laugh-out-loud wit-bits.

But I think if all of that were thrown into a blender labeled ‘specialty’, it’s the way you capture a moment. What I mean is, when I read your works, I am in the moment with the characters: whether it’s filled with tension, caked with irony, or a looming reveal I find myself engrossed in the moments you’re creating. Sometimes I get to the end of a paragraph and then immediately want/need to reread it again to relive the beats or charm or clever.

I’ve maybe thought/said/written this before, but as a branch of that is the way you keep the whole reading experience light. I never leave your works feeling heavier from them. The topics and themes might lean heavy, but you manage this amazing balancing act of fleshing out those details while never putting that weight on the reader, and that feels like such a special skill to bake into your writing.

WRONG. clearly my specialty as a writer is drawing in deeply kind & incredibly generous wordsmiths like yourself 🥺

[desos-records]

The part I appreciate the most in the Lockwood and Co show is how it handles depression and suicidal thoughts in teenagers. As a theme, it’s not often (ever) done well. Lockwood and Co is the only story I can think of that depicts it in a nuanced, realistic, non-romanticized way

but first, before I get into it: [if you’re in crisis or need someone to talk to and don’t want to/can’t use your national hotline, highly recommend Samaritans, genuinely saved my life] okay, let’s go

Lockwood is the most obvious, with his general disregard for his own life and admitted suicidal ideation. Lucy struggles with her self-worth and the intensity of the emotions she’s subjected to. George worries that he doesn’t belong, that there’s something useless or wrong about him. The show depicts these thoughts and feelings in a way that isn’t overblown or dramatized, it’s all but casual. Which is how it happens. Depression or suicidal thoughts don’t crash into you all at once, they creep into your life without you noticing

But more importantly (and again, something I’ve never seen anywhere else), the show also offers counterpoints to those thoughts and feelings. It shows that there is a way out, even though you may feel trapped and hopeless. This is crucial for the show’s target demographic. Bad media depictions of depression or suicide get internalized, contribute to the stigma, and make it harder for people to ask for help. This show doesn’t do that. This show tells its audience that, yes, things are scary and painful and it fucking sucks, but it’s not hopeless. And it says it so well

In the second episode, when Lucy wants to quit, she admits something that I’m almost certain she’s never told anyone

“sometimes I just think I’d be better off dead”

And when I watched this the first time, I expected Lockwood to react the way I’ve seen people react in my own life; with silence or panic or downright dismissal. But he didn’t. He stays calm and he says something that is so so important to hear when you’re struggling under the weight of feelings like this

“I understand that”

Saying this tells someone several things: that you’re on their side, they aren’t strange or monstrous for feeling like this, and that you’re not going to attack or abandon them because of it. And you can see the impact it has on Lucy, the way her face clears. She went from struggling to breathe and near tears to calm and steady. It’s no mistake that in this moment we hear his and Lucy’s theme for the first time (those simple, beautiful guitar strings)

The next thing he says is also important

“and it’s not true”

Simple, to the point, directly addressing her feelings, and (the most common mistake) doesn’t make it about him. Telling someone that you love them or that they’d be upset to lose you might sound nice, and it can be later on in the conversation, but in a moment like this, it’s infinitely more helpful to confront the thought itself

A similar moment in the first book stuck with me too, when they’re underneath Combe Carey Hall and Lucy almost steps into the well. What she’s hearing in her head (and the general phenomenon of malaise that ghosts produce) is very similar to depressive or suicidal thoughts. Before she can fall, Lockwood pulls her back

“no, Lucy, that’s not the way it’s going to be”

Depressive and suicidal thoughts deal in absolutes, so sometimes it takes an absolute to counter it

In the last episode, George has that heart-breaking moment where he says all the awful things he thinks about himself, partly because of the influence of the boneglass and Bickerstaff, but it’s also been building up, there in the background. Increasingly, it’s Lockwood and Lucy working together and George working on his own, which picks at old wounds (engineer, engineer, engineer, weirdo). He bonds with Joplin because he feels like she understands him in a way the others don’t

“it’s nice to have someone to show off to”

But Lucy pushes back against all that because she sees herself in all the ugly things George is saying, because she’s felt that way too. She understands that. She’s so surprised and horrified to hear him saying those things, resigning himself to dying down there, she’s not going to let him go on believing them

“you’re not a third wheel or an oddball or whatever it is that you think you are”

“you’re the best of us”

“we are not losing you, Georgie”

Flo called him that earlier too, but Lucy wasn’t there for that and coming unprompted from her it sounds so much like something you might call your slightly annoying younger brother. She’s so absolute about it all, with no opening for doubt, and you can see something like surprise on George’s face (but also pain because now Lucy’s in danger too)

For all Lucy knows, the boneglass will kill her. I don’t think for a second she genuinely believes her talent will protect her; she told Joplin that to protect George. It’s unclear when exactly she came up with the plan to use the skull, but she was willing to risk it anyway. And she knows, she knows, George will blame himself for this (because she would too, if it were the other way around), but even then, she’s very clear

“this isn’t your fault”

Their whole scene down in the catacombs is two kids trying to keep each other alive, physically obviously, but on the inside as well. And, oh god, George almost crashing down next to Lucy after he’s knocked over the boneglass, trying to wake her up. His voice

“Lucy, Lucy, it’s me, it’s me, say something, speak to me”

I think it’s down in those catacombs that George and Lucy really understand each other for the first time. In their own ways, they’re both curious and suspicious about the Problem and what causes it, trying to learn more about it (and stressing Lockwood out in the process). They both left their families; they both struggle with feeling strange and different than everyone around them. That connection pulls them both back from the edge

Lockwood, for all his confidence, is practically in crisis or was fairly recently (I suspect living with George helped). It’s fairly common, actually, for someone suicidal to overcompensate with an exterior shell to hide it, which can manifest in different ways depending on the person (they may not even realize they’re doing it, I didn’t)

And I love how the show handles it. He’s not made into this dark, tragic figure. He’s so full of life it hurts. He jokes around with George and Flo, fights with Kipps, admires Fairfax. He has dreams (plans) for the future. He’s struggling with trauma, they all are, but he’s not Broken™ in the way similar leading characters are often made out to be, in the way we often fear we are

And, of course, there’s Lucy, a wreaking ball through the precarious balance of Lockwood’s life. It’s not so much that she gives him a reason to live (although she definitely helps), but she holds him accountable in a way no one else does. This is the difficult part of recovery that no one talks about. Having people care for you (George) and sympathize with you (Flo) is great and necessary, especially early on. But at some point, you have to take responsibility for yourself and the noise in your head (you have to open your door on the landing)

What that looks like is complicated and messy and different for every person, but seeing it played out in a story is remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it. This is a difficult thing for anyone to learn (many adults never even try)

That shot of George, Lucy, Lockwood (and Kipps) rising up on the catafalque sums it all up for me. Each of them fell into darkness alone and rose out of it together. They inspired each other to fight and win their individual battles, even when they couldn’t be there to help

[a-lexia11]

Is it weird that I want to know Leah's POV from Part 2? Like, what's going on in her head? What's with her reactions? Thank you for a beautiful fic, by the way. Keep on writing!

Ask and you shall receive.

In the original version of the story, I had included Leah’s POV, but I decided to remove it to concentrate more on the reader’s emotions and perspective.

But since you asked so kindly, here’s the version with only Leah’s point of view.

(Btw thank you for the compliments, I appreciate it🫶🫶)

Full of love (Leah’s POV)

Part 1

Leah Williamson x reader(past)

Alexia Putellas x reader

———————-

Ending things with Y/N was, without a doubt, one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made, but deep down, I knew it was necessary.

The love I once felt for her had faded, and I couldn’t ignore the growing unhappiness in our relationship any longer. It wasn’t fair to either of us to continue pretending.

Looking back, I have to admit that the way I handled it was far from right. I should have been honest with her sooner.

Instead, I distanced myself, ignoring her and, in doing so, only caused her more pain. When she told me she deserved better, she was absolutely right. She deserved so much more than the half-hearted efforts I was giving her.

Y/N was truly one of the kindest and most selfless people I’ve ever known. She had a way of making everyone around her feel loved and valued, and I was no exception.

Those five years we spent together weren’t just filled with good memories—they were some of the best years of my life. I was deeply in love with her, and she brought me so much happiness during that time.

But somewhere along the line, something changed. I don’t even know exactly when or why it happened, but I fell out of love with her.

It was one of the most painful realizations I've ever faced.

This was the woman I once dreamed of marrying, of building a life with. I imagined us having children together, growing old side by side. But as much as I wanted those things, I couldn’t force the feelings that just weren’t there anymore.

The break up was devastating, not just for her but for me as well. It felt like I was tearing apart everything we had built. Yet, in a way, it was also a relief.

It was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders because I was finally being honest—with her and with myself.

I wasn’t living a lie anymore, and I wasn’t continuing to hurt her by pretending everything was okay.

So, while it was the hardest decision I've ever made, it was also the right one.

Y/N deserves to be with someone who loves her wholeheartedly, and even though it hurt to let go, I hope that by doing so, I’ve allowed her the chance to find that happiness again.

——

It’s been four months since Y/N and I broke up, and during that time, she has meticulously avoided me.

It’s as if she’s made it her mission to steer clear of any interaction, as if even the slightest chance of crossing paths is something she desperately wants to avoid.

Watching her like this has been incredibly painful for me. I can see the depth of her unhappiness, and it’s crushing to know that I’m the cause of it.

The once vibrant spark in her eyes has completely faded, leaving them dull and distant. It’s a stark contrast to the person she used to be, and I feel a deep sense of regret for what I’ve done.

Her attempts to appear happy around our teammates are painfully transparent. To others, her smile might seem genuine, but I know better. I can see through the façade she’s putting on.

There’s a heaviness in her expressions, and the joy that used to accompany her presence is now absent. It’s clear that she’s not truly happy, despite her best efforts to project otherwise.

It’s heart-wrenching to witness her struggle while knowing that I’m the reason for her suffering.

We were gathered in the meeting room, a place that usually buzzed with discussion and camaraderie.

Today, however, it was different. Jonas gave a subtle sign to Y/N, who stood up from her seat, her movements betraying her nervousness.

She walked over to stand next to him, her posture tense and her hands clasped tightly together.

When she finally spoke, her voice wavering. “I want to let you all know that I’ve decided to leave Arsenal and join Barcelona,” she announced, her words hanging heavily in the air.

The shock hit me like a physical blow. I couldn’t process the reality of her departure. The idea of Y/N leaving Arsenal—leaving me—was inconceivable.

My mind raced, but I found myself utterly speechless. The room fell into a stunned silence, the usual hum of conversations replaced by a heavy stillness as everyone absorbed the unexpected news.

I saw Y/N glance my way, and in that moment, she caught the full extent of my shock. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve, and it was clear she was aware of the impact her decision was having on me.

Beth began speaking to Y/N, but her words seemed distant and muffled as I struggled to process what was happening.

The noise of the room, the soft murmur of conversations, all faded into the background.

One by one, the other girls began to rise from their seats, moving toward Y/N to offer her hugs and words of support.

Their gestures were heartfelt, and they tried to provide comfort, but I remained rooted in my chair, unable to bring myself to join them.

I felt a profound sense of helplessness and disbelief, paralyzed by the gravity of the situation and the sudden void that Y/N’s departure represented.

“Leah,” I heard a soft voice, calling out for me

I looked up, her eyes meeting mine, and I rose from my seat, moving closer. “Y/N, you can’t just leave. Arsenal is your home, your family. We’re your family,” I said, my voice trembling.

“I know,” she murmured. “But you need to understand that I can’t heal here. Not with you here and the memories of us everywhere I turn. It feels like a huge part of me vanished when we broke up. Arsenal no longer feels like home; something has fundamentally changed. I’m not happy here anymore, and I need to address that. I can’t just stay and be miserable.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I quickly blinked them away, “Are you leaving because of me? We can still be close, even if we’re not together. I can still make you happy as a friend. You don’t have to leave.” I begged her desperately.

She gently took my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Staying friends will only complicate things for me, Leah. I want you to know that I will always care about you, but this is something I have to do for myself. I need to find a way to move forward.”

I nodded slowly, my voice barely audible. “I understand. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“It won’t be easy for me either,” Y/N admitted,“But I genuinely believe it’s the right choice.”

I remained standing in silence for what felt like an eternity, overwhelmed by a flood of memories and emotions.

My mind kept replaying the moments we had shared, the laughter and challenges, the bond we had built over time.

The realization that she was leaving for another country and joining a different club hit me hard. The weight of it all was crushing.

Finally, I broke the silence with a sigh. “When are you leaving?”

“End of the season,” she said quietly. “I want to make sure I finish things here properly, give it the closure it deserves.”

i just nodded sadly“Okay. I suppose… I’ll see you on the pitch.” I simply said and walked away.

Being around her was excruciating, knowing that she would soon be leaving. It was a constant reminder of the impending separation and the emotions I was struggling to keep in check.

I had to remind myself not to be selfish, even though it hurt to see her in pain.

Despite the fact that my feelings for her had changed and I no longer loved her in the way I once did, my care for her remained profound.

I wanted her to find happiness, even if that meant her leaving and starting anew.

Seeing her unhappy was unbearable, and if moving to another country and joining a new club was what she needed to feel fulfilled, then I had to accept that.

——

I saw Y/N again at her farewell party, but I made sure to keep my distance, avoiding her as much as possible.

I wasn’t keen on attending in the first place, but Lia had insisted, arguing that it would be disrespectful not to be there with the entire team.

From where I stood, I watched her quietly. Despite the sadness of the occasion, she appeared a bit more radiant tonight.

Maybe the anticipation of her new journey was lifting her spirits, providing a sense of excitement that was hard to miss.

As the evening wound down and people started to drift away, I felt a heavy weight in my chest. I refrained from hugging her, knowing that if I did, I would likely dissolve into tears.

Instead, I gave her a brief, gentle pat on the shoulder and offered a simple, “Good luck,” before turning and walking away.

It was a difficult moment, and I knew that this might be the last time I’d see her for a considerable period.

The reality of our separation felt almost unbearable, and I wanted to leave before my emotions got the better of me.

——

Today, I’m in Barcelona, visiting Keira after a long time apart. It’s great to reconnect with my best friend, and I’m looking forward to catching up.

However, being in Barcelona also means I’m bound to see Y/N, especially since Keira invited me to join her and some of the Barça team at a bar tonight.

The thought of seeing Y/N again brings a swirl of emotions.

When Y/N joined Barcelona, I asked Keira to give me updates on Y/N. I was hoping to hear that she was thriving and happy.

Keira, at one point, mentioned that Y/N had become close with Alexia Putellas, which made my heart skip a beat.

It stirred up feelings I hadn’t anticipated, a mix of curiosity and something deeper that I couldn't quite place.

When I arrived at the bar, I took a moment to scan the room, searching for Keira. That’s when I spotted Y/N, and I was struck by how beautiful she looked.

Barcelona seemed to have suited her well; she had a glow about her that I hadn’t seen in a while. Alexia was beside her, her arm resting comfortably around Y/N’s shoulders.

It was a familiar sight, one that reminded me of how I used to hold her similarly when we’d go out with our teammates.

As I made my way toward Y/N, my nerves were on edge. She noticed me, as did Alexia. I watched as Alexia leaned in, speaking softly to Y/N. I saw Y/N nodding, and then Alexia placed a tender kiss on Y/N’s forehead.

It was a gesture that resonated deeply with me, reminding me of the affectionate moments we had shared.

Seeing this intimate display stirred a mix of nostalgia and regret, leaving me to navigate the complex emotions swirling within me as I approached them.

“Y/N,” I said, my voice shaking a little. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Leah,” she replied, her tone light. “How’s London?”

God,I missed the sound of her voice.

“It’s… London,” I said with a small smile,“How about you? Barcelona seems to suit you.”

“It really does” she admitted. “I love it here. The city, the team… everything.”

I glanced around, taking in the lively atmosphere. “I can see why. It’s beautiful.”

A brief silence fell between us, and the unspoken tension was palpable.

I could hardly believe that, after all these months, she was standing right in front of me. It felt like seeing her again for the first time.

“So… Alexia?” I asked tentatively but curiously,“You two seem close.”

Y/N glanced over at Alexia, who was chatting with Keira but I noticed that Alexia still kept an eye on Y/N, looking her way every once in a while. Y/N nodded. “Yeah, we’re dating.”

When those words came out of her mouth, I felt a slight tightening in my face, a physical reaction to the reality of the situation.

I had been prepared for this; Keira had given me a heads-up, but hearing it directly from Y/N made it all the more tangible and impactful.

I struggled to grasp why I was experiencing such intense emotions—jealousy and envy—despite my belief that my feelings for her had faded.

I had convinced myself that I was no longer in love with her, or at least that’s what I had tried to believe.

Yet, seeing her now, so vibrant and full of life, stirred something deep within me. Her smile, her laughter, the way she spoke—it all evoked memories of the Y/N I had once loved so deeply.

It was as if the past had resurfaced, and I was reminded of the affection and longing that still lay dormant inside me.

The realization hit hard: perhaps I hadn’t truly moved on; perhaps, on some level, I was still very much in love with her.

I forced a smile. “That’s… that’s great. I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “She’s… different. It feels right.”

I looked down, my fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy.”

I’m genuinely glad that she’s found someone who makes her happy—Alexia clearly brings her joy.

However, I won’t pretend that I don’t wish I were still the one who could bring her that happiness.

“Um… how about you? Have you found someone?” She asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

“Um… not yet,” I responded quietly, almost in a whisper. “I’m trying to put myself out there again, but it’s been challenging.”

It’s been incredibly challenging for me because, with every date I’ve been on, I find myself constantly comparing the other girls to you. None of them have come close to matching the unique qualities that you have. Each time, I’m reminded of how special you are, and it makes me realize just how irreplaceable you are… you were in my life.

But you don’t need to know that.

Y/N nodded understandingly, and offered me a gentle smile “I’m confident you’ll find someone, Leah. You’re an incredible person, and anyone would be lucky to have you in their life,” she said encouragingly.

I genuinely valued her words, but they don’t reflect the truth. I don’t see myself as an incredible person.

Someone truly incredible wouldn’t have caused such deep hurt that someone had to leave the country, nor would they have given up on the love of their life.

As the conversation lulled, Alexia got closer to Y/N and gently touch her back, and send me a smile.

“Leah, it was really good to see you,” Y/N said. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here.”

“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a smile. “It was good to see you too, Y/N.”

She gave me a small wave before turning back to Alexia, who immediately wrapped her arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close in a tender, intimate gesture.

From where I stood, I could see the way Y/N looked at Alexia—her eyes brimming with genuine love and affection, mirroring the way Alexia gazed at her. It was a beautiful and heartwarming sight to witness, and it was evident that Y/N truly deserved this kind of happiness.

Alexia was treating her with a tenderness and care that I had failed to provide, making Y/N's joy and contentment unmistakable.

As I observed them, a deep, lingering part of me acknowledged that I still harbored feelings for Y/N. It was a painful realization, compounded by the knowledge that I had hurt her profoundly. I had driven her away, and now she was finding solace and affection in someone else’s arms.

The finality of it all hit hard—I lost her forever. I couldn’t help but second-guess whether ending our relationship had been the right choice.

Seeing her so happy with someone else made me question whether I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

No, it’s not a question it’s a fact, I made the biggest mistake of my life.

[chelseeebe]

promise.

eddie knows about covering bruises and pretending to be fine all too well. but can he save the one woman he thinks he’s ever loved?

a/n: ok i’ve been a bit shit the last few weeks and this is genuinely the only thing i could conjure up but forewarning, it is sad and it does mention some pretty heavy topics that i know aren’t for everyone so i completely understand if u don’t want to read! my adhd riddled brain has already started a part two which does have a happy ending

title based on promise - ben howard i just thought it was a really lovely song and fits well with part two

read part two here.

18+. mdni! mentions of domestic violence, not explicitly described but the injuries are there and it is referred to multiple times throughout (eddie is not the perpetrator). smut. v much hurt/no comfort but not for long.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

eddie is positively wrecked.

who would have ever guessed working in a shoddy, run-down bar would be so fucking tiring?

graham had said that if he picked up a few shifts at the hideout a week, then corroded coffin could play once a month. a guaranteed slot and he got paid? this was like heaven to him.

he just hadn’t expected the little bar to be so exhausting. he supposes that his lack of work experience and the fact he was used to doing sweet fuck all most of the time was to blame. that’s not his fault. not really. after finally graduating high school a year or so ago, he just hadn’t found any work in the tiny town.

on one particularly boring mid-week shift, eddie’s sat behind the bar doodling on the back of an old receipt, tapping his foot along to the kiss tune playing on the stereo. wouldn’t be his first choice but he’s not complaining.

‘you coming for a smoke?’ you exclaim suddenly, causing his head to jolt up, running the biro over his shitty drawing, ruining it completely.

‘uh.. then who would be on the bar?’ he utters, quickly hiding the doodle before you could judge it. not that he thinks you would, but just in case.

‘eddie, it’s dead,’ you say flatly, looking around at the empty tables.

truth be told, he hadn’t seen another soul bar from you and graham since he’d arrived which was odd for a thursday. assuming that the usual bums that lined the dusty old stools were otherwise engaged today. that or they just hadn’t been paid yet.

‘oh.. yeah, okay,’ he nods, hopping down from the stool and grabbing his jacket. you’re already gone, bounding off down the hall to the fire exit you all used for smoke breaks.

eddie’s still fairly new and very rarely got invited on the group breaks. which was fine, he just wished that you’d all take it in turns so that he could smoke too. he gets it though, like he talks enough but yet not enough to really make friends with any of you.

you’re leaning back against the brick wall, cigarette hanging from your lips, ‘you got a lighter?’

it’s not like he’d been staring or thought about it that much, but he’d noticed how breathtakingly beautiful you were on his second shift. okay, maybe that’s a lie. he’d thought about it a lot. but anyway, he’d been utterly in awe at the way you handled the drunks, brushed off their creepy comments and stood your ground no matter how angry or persistent they were being. he admired that and just wished that he had even a smidgen of the confidence you had.

he fumbles in his pocket for the lighter, clumsily handing it over before getting his own pack out. it feels wrong to look you in the eye, god that sounded pathetic. you were older, far cooler than he was and positively stunning. if he remembers correctly, you must’ve been a couple grades above him at school but had left long before he graduated.

‘thanks,’ passing the lighter back to him, fingers ever so slightly brushing against his. it’s like electricity sparks through his veins.

he really needs to get a grip.

‘you enjoyin’ it here?’ you ask, eyes intimidating as they bore into his.

‘it’s okay.. tiring though,’ he shrugs, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact despite his inability to look pretty girls in the eye.

‘yeah.. you’ll get used to it,’ you chuckle, the smoke flowing out of your lips perfectly. he’s so pathetically down bad for you and you have literally no idea.

‘how long have you worked here?’ longing to keep the conversation flowing.

‘shit.. too long,’ chuckling as you take another drag. eddie could listen to that sound all day. ‘i think i was eighteen when i started so..’ pretending to count on your fingers, ‘six years?’

eddie blows the air out of cheeks, he’s probably be in a similar position if he’d have just graduated when he was supposed to so he can’t exactly pass judgement.

‘i think we went to school together, i mean, you were a couple grades above me but i remember you,’ hoping that that didn’t sound as creepy out loud like it did in his head.

‘oh shit, really?’ your eyes narrow, trying to place him though it’s obviously not going to happen, ‘i don’t remember you.. i’m so sorry,’ playfully hitting his arm.

the connection is enough to keep his delusions going for at least another month.

‘it’s fine, didn’t think you would,’ not many people did to be honest. he tosses his cigarette into the overflowing makeshift ashtray, waiting for you to lead the way back inside.

‘hey, it was a long time ago, i’m old now!’ you joke, walking back through the dim hall back to the bar. he tries his hardest not to let his gaze slip to you ass but he swears it’s only for a second.

the bar’s still dead, the stereo now blaring out some madonna tune he hated.

‘ugh.. turn this one off,’ he mutters, mostly to himself as he repositions himself back on his perch.

‘what?’

‘i hate this song.’

your jaw drops in faux-offence, ‘i made this mixtape you asshole,’ going to shove him off of the stool, ‘i can’t believe you can’t drop the cool guy act for one second to appreciate some madonna,’ laughing as you start collecting glasses.

his frown turns into an immediate grin, begging for your forgiveness as he starts to bop his head along to the beat. it’s not like anyone would see him and hell, even if they did, he didn’t care. not if it made you smile.

-

‘holy fuck, you been fightin’ with the door again?’ james remarks, pulling eddie’s eyes from his paper to spot you rushing into the bar.

your head is ducked, flashing the older man your middle finger, disappearing into the back before eddie can properly get a glimpse of your face.

but he knows.

there’d been a handful of times that you’d come in wearing a massive sweater instead of your usual low-cut tops and when you reached for something high up, the sleeve would reveal just enough for him to see the dark blue marks on your wrist.

he’d never been sure, not until now. but his stomach drops the second his brain puts two and two together.

ditching the paper and that asshole james behind the bar to slink off into the back, approaching the tiny staff room with the upmost caution. it’d never be wise to start throwing accusations around but he’s not stupid. eddie had watching his mom go through the exact same shit for years. knew all the tricks in the book to cover up bruises, cried his heart out every time his mom went back to his asshole dad.

only god knows how many times he’d planned out his fathers death. anger brimming in his tiny body the second he heard raised voices.

he knocks gently on the door, watching as you hurriedly wipe the makeup onto your eye. it’s not doing much, in fact, it’s not doing anything at all. the purple shining through undeniably.

‘you okay?’ practically whispering as he enters the room, knocking the door shut behind him. james’ comment had meant that this obviously wasn’t the first time you’d come into work with such horrid markings.

you sigh, giving up on attempting to cover it, slamming the metallic compact back into your locker. ‘i’m okay.. i’m fine,’ refusing to turn and face him.

you’re obviously not okay and it hurts eddie to know that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to help. instead, he takes a seat on the communal bench, if nothing else, he’d lend his ear for whatever story you wanted to tell him.

‘what happened?’ he dares to ask, not expecting to know the truth but it felt better than silence.

you sniff, closing your locker and finally facing him head on. there’s pain and guilt wracked all over your face, ‘i’m just.. clumsy,’ shoulders slumping, ‘i tripped..’

‘clumsy?’

you were anything but. eddie had watched you balance trays full of glasses without spilling a single drop. maybe other people bought your story but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

there’s a short silence and eddie shuffles, patting the empty space beside him, ‘you don’t have to lie to me.’ he swallows his anger, lets it rest in his stomach for a later date. there’s no doubt that if he got the opportunity, he’d kill the asshole that did this to you.

you swallow, reluctantly perching on the bench, ‘why are you even asking when you already know?’ not quite meeting his eyes, staring off somewhere into the distance.

‘i don’t know.. didn’t wanna pressure you..’ he’s familiar with the whole routine. the denial from his mother had broken his heart at such a young age even though he wasn’t stupid.

you blink, meeting his eyes for the first time, ‘he didn’t mean to.. was my fault,’ wiping the back of your hand against your sodden cheeks.

even hearing the words makes him inexplicably frustrated. not with you of course, but with the fact that you can’t see how much you don’t deserve that.

‘i don’t think you could do anything to deserve that,’ motioning towards your blackened eye. he’s not going to push it but he needs you to know that he’s here and would quite happily wrap his hands around that bastards neck.

‘you know.. my dad used to hit my mom,’ swallowing the large lump that had gathered in his throat, but finds enough strength to continue, ‘she was the nicest lady in the world.. she didn’t deserve that and neither do you,’ licking his suddenly parched lips. it wasn’t an easy topic then and it certainly isn’t now.

he’s not particularly ever open about what happened to his mom but if it convinced you even a tiny bit to leave him, it’d be worth it.

there’s a beat, followed by a muffled sniff but you’re nodding, staring down at the grimy tiles rather than his face. eddie reckons that he’d be overstepping his mark if he did what he wanted and leant over to hug you. so he doesn’t. putting a sympathetic hand on your shoulder instead.

‘you’re an angel, you know that?’ the hints of a smile creeping onto your lips.

‘yeah i know,’ he scoffs, bashing his shoulder into yours, only gently.

‘shut up,’ knocking him straight back.

you get up from the bench, puffing your cheeks out as you take one last look into the mirror.

it’s a gut-wrenching, awful sight and god forbid eddie has to ever see you like that again.

-

perhaps rather naively, eddie assumes everything is fine for the next few weeks.

understandably, you’re a bit subdued for a few days but you do revert back to your usual bubbly self come friday evening. no more bruises, no more groaning when you change the keg and absolutely zero mention of your wretched boyfriend.

so when he pulls into his gravel driveway one gloomy saturday night, he’s aghast to see you perched on his trailer steps. blinking through his headlights, soaked through from the rain with a busted lip and a torn shirt to match.

he near enough launches himself from his van, rushing over to your hunched over frame. damn near falling over his feet to get to you.

‘what the hell happened?’

you stand, clinging onto your poorly packed rucksack, ‘i.. i didn’t know where else to go,’ utterly defeated, any traces of life drained from your face.

he doesn’t say another word, bundling you into the trailer, slamming the lights on to get a proper look of you. his hands firmly on your drenched shoulders as he examines your injuries. your lip is cracked, the blood had wept from the cut and dried on your chin.

it’s awful. knocks him sick just to see you like this. your cheeks are stained with a mixture of rain and he presumes tears, hair hanging limp around your beautiful face.

‘what happened?’ he says softly, studying your face. he notices the small gash on your forehead, using everything within himself not to storm out of that door in a murderous rage.

your mouth opens but no words come out. it’s not as if he can’t put two and two together, he just doesn’t understand how it got to this point after last week.

‘it’s okay.. c’mon let’s get you out of these clothes,’ he blinks, collecting himself before taking your sopping wet bag. the clothes had all suffered in the downpour, damp and unwearable.

so he leads you into his cramped room, hastily rummaging through his drawers for something you can wear.

it’s a little self-indulgent and completely the wrong time but his heart flutters when you reappear out of the bathroom sporting his tee and a pair of old gym shorts. now showered and without the blood stains on your face, it’s a welcome sight.

‘better?’ he offers, though he knows a shower could never really help.

you nod, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. it’s so adorable and eddie seriously has to fight his compulsion to just pull you into his arms. he knows there’s no way he can protect you from everything but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

‘you want a drink? beer?’

your eyes light up, a minuscule smirk appearing on your battered lips. he’s sure wayne would understand why he came home to a non-existent six pack. the berating would be worth it to see you smile again.

he collapses onto the couch next to you, beer in hand as he watches you slowly relax. delighted that he could offer a safe space for you, even if it did come with some very complicated feelings.

that night, admittedly very creepily, he watches as you sleep. terrified to fall asleep in his makeshift bed on the floor in case you needed him.

-

at some point in the last two weeks, eddie had gone from sleeping on the floor to sleeping in his bed next to you. you’d told him it was far too cold for him on the floor and he should just get in. which he did, with great pleasure. there was nothing to it of course, but a few times he’d woken up to your leg entangled with his or your face pressed against his back.

everything had just got a whole lot more comfortable. rides to work, cooking for one another and some shared looks that he’d been unable to put his finger on. not wanting to believe they had any deeper meaning but at the same time, he knew that that wasn’t how friends looked at each other.

it’s a rare night you both have off, sat in the trailer watching halloween, neither of you really interested in what’s going on on the screen. there’s an inexplicable tension in the air tonight, you’re quieter than usual which eddie doesn’t like.

‘you okay?’ he dares to ask. he’d felt a little overbearing those first few days, constantly checking on you to make sure you were okay.

‘hmm? oh, i’m okay,’ setting your bottle of beer on the table, ending up much closer to him when you sit back.

‘you sure? you’re quiet,’ keen not to let on that he was absolutely buzzing about your close proximity.

‘just thinking.’

‘about?’

you let out a soft breath, twisting around to look at him fully. the only times he’d been this close to you were in bed where he laid and listened to your soft snores and when you’d been covered in injuries. neither one were exceptionally great circumstances.

‘you,’ you blink up at him, smiling just enough to make his heart skip a beat.

‘me?’ he can’t decipher whether that’s a good thing or not.

‘mhm.’

‘what about me?’

you don’t respond for what feels like an eternity but your gaze lowers, glancing at his lips and back to his eyes. if he weren’t staring directly into your bright eyes, he’d have missed it.

‘i really want to kiss you,’ you say, so brazenly that eddie’s not quite sure if he’s heard you correctly, almost sputtering on his breath as the words process.

‘you.. you wanna kiss me?’ trying hard not to sound so astounded. pretty girls didn’t want to kiss eddie, not like this.

you nod, ‘can i?’

there are stars in his eyes, blood pumping around his limbs at an alarming rate. his head is fuzzy and if he weren’t sitting, he’d probably have fainted.

‘please,’ he chokes, desperately forcing the word out before it becomes impossible.

your palms are soft as they caress his cheek, wishing that he’d shaved before this had unfolded. his heartbeat stutters, bubbling with anticipation as you lean in, gentle lips locking onto his as his eyes flutter shut.

this is it. he’d dreamt of kissing you for weeks, practiced on his hand an embarrassing amount of times and yet still nothing could’ve prepared him for how earth shattering this felt. his heart is practically jumping out of his chest and he’s sure you can feel it thumping against yours.

it’s as if fate had bought the two of you together, moving against each other in perfect harmony. if he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

your hand creeps down onto his chest, holding yourself upright as you shift onto your knees. do you want to have sex with him? is this actually happening? his fingertips vibrate as they connect with your waist, like you weren’t even real and just a figment of his overactive imagination.

the second your lips part from his, he wants to cry, pull you back in and never let go. the absence of contact makes him whine, opening his eyes to see yours gazing back, they look different. different to how you’ve ever looked at him before, full of something unspeakable.

‘do you want to?’ you ask quietly into the minimal space between you.

eddie wants to so bad, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. nodding hurriedly to let you know just how eager he is. there’s not a chance in hell he’d let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

your lips twitch into a smile at his permission, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt.

but before you get any further, the trailer door clicks open and wayne is stood in the doorway, pizza box in hand accompanying his unimpressed scowl. ‘okay well, i think that’s enough of that,’ he grumbles, shuffling into the trailer as you climb off eddie’s lap, back into your own spot.

‘sorry wayne.. i didn’t know you were back so early,’ his cheeks burning, bashful as ever. it wasn’t enough for wayne to walk in on that but he was always now straining against his jeans, trying desperately to hide the tent while you reshuffle, pulling your shorts back down to a more appropriate length.

‘yeah yeah whatever,’ his uncle shakes his head, trundling over to the couch and tossing the box onto the cluttered coffee table, ‘move over boy, i wanna watch my programme,’ collapsing into the empty seat beside his nephew with a deep, guttural sigh.

the two of you share a sly smirk, tuning in to whatever shit wayne had put on without saying another word. stifling your laughter with a piece of pizza as eddie tries and fails to discretely pull a pillow onto his lap.

it’s hours later when you both crawl into bed and eddie has checked five times that wayne’s actually asleep before he gets to kiss you again.

bundled up under the covers when you pull him on top of you, your face gloriously basked in the bright moonlight shining in. it’s breathtaking.

‘you want to?’ you ask again, as if his answer had changed in those few hours.

he nods, his curls brushing fall down and brush against your cheek, ‘have you.. before?’ you ask cautiously. he’s not offended, even if he should be.

he has had sex before. only twice. when ellen had first joined hellfire, they had sorta had a year long fling which had ended after they had sex and ellen realised that maybe she didn’t actually like men. that was a super boost to his confidence. and then at senior prom when tina took great pity on him and somehow they ended up having sex in the back of his van.

he nods anyway, granted he’s not the most experienced but he’ll sure as hell try.

‘good,’ you smile, warm thighs wrapping around his torso as you reconnect your lips. it’s soft, gentle even. world’s apart from his previous encounters. this felt real, like you weren’t just kissing because you had to but because you wanted to.

it’s too cold in the trailer to care about removing your clothes, though he’s sure that’ll change in a minute. focussing on getting his tongue inside of your mouth, rutting against your pajama shorts. the friction causing his already semi-hard dick to rise, unable to contain the moan from escaping.

a smirk flashes across his face as his hand drags your shorts down your legs, savouring every moment of being able to touch your bare, supple skin. his hand makes its way back up your legs, repositioning the one he could grasp back around his lower back.

he has trouble getting his boxers down, too excited to focus on being smooth about it. appreciating the feel of your hand tugging the fabric down. you’re barely kissing at this point, your lips connecting with the corner of his mouth, all messy as the anticipation takes over.

‘you sure?’ he asks, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. he could just about remember what to do. sending a quick prayer upstairs to not let him be utterly useless.

‘i’m sure,’ you breathe, the feel of your fingers tangled into the hair that covered the back of his neck.

‘okay..’ he nods, mostly to himself as he wraps a head around his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. taking a brief moment to just capture this moment in preparation of it never happening again.

the pleasure overcomes his body as he slides in, already almost losing himself as he fills you up. a soft moan escapes your lips, gripping onto his neck. he is acutely aware that his uncle is asleep on the other side of the old trailer so he muffles his face into your neck, lips connecting with your jaw bone, kissing any and every bit of skin exposed to him.

sex had never felt like this before. at best, it had felt slightly better than when he jerked off, but this was something else. eddie knows it’s cliche and is definitely only because you feel so fucking good around him, but it’s as if you were made for each other.

hands pressed into the pillow so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a permanent dent either side of your head. using everything within himself not to start hollering, eyes fluttering shut against your neck. he moves in and out at an agonisingly slow pace. the small room filling with the sounds of your soaking wet cunt. its undeniable to anyone with ears and he just hopes to god that wayne is still asleep.

his own low groans vibrating against your cheek, mouth hanging open as his thrusts grow faster. you’re panting softly directly into his ear, spurring him on. despite the feel of your perfect cunt around him, the best feeling is knowing that he’s making you feel good.

‘h-holy shit,’ he mumbles nonsensically into the crook of your neck, not allowing himself to come for air because he know that the second he looks at your face, he’ll cum.

your one hand is splayed out on his upper back, the other holding onto his sweaty neck beneath his mop of hair. whining his name into his ear, driving him into a frenzy with the sound of your breathy voice, desire rippling through your moans. he should tell you to be quiet but that’d be cruel and he’d rather take the shame of wayne knowing than not hearing you.

your legs shift higher the position allowing him to reach the golden spot, nudging the soft, spongy spot over and over. eddie figures you’re far more experienced than he is. with no offence meant to you but you obviously know what works. this is new territory for him, a closeness that he’d never known possible.

you’re engulfing him completely, every single one of his senses encompassed by you. you’re all he can see even with his eyes screwed shut, all he can hear, taste and smell. god knows you’re all he can feel, calves squeezing around his back and your perfect pussy tightening around him.

he groans, feeling his stomach begin to twist in that all too familiar feeling. orgasms had never felt so good, it’s like everything was dialled up to level ten. ‘i’m gonna.. shit- i’m gonna come,’ he babbles far too loudly.

every noise tumbling out of your mouth was pulling him closer, no record could ever come close to the sweet mewls that were slipping between your lips. his arms begin to tremble under his own weight. feeling your legs quivering around his waist as your orgasm begins to overtake your body, sinful noises echoing around the otherwise quiet trailer.

‘ohh fuck,’ he growls, feeling your walls clenching around him, it was like he’d been pushed over the edge. the only way he can begin to describe it was otherworldly, flashes of white light illuminate his eyelids.

images of your face accompany your honeyed whimpers and he has to pull out before he explodes. spurts of his release cover his hand and admittedly the back of your thigh. if he had any semblance of control, he’d have been embarrassed but he’s not exactly sure that he’s still on planet earth.

he dares to open his eyes, watching as your chest heaves below him clinging onto his forearm with desperate fingertips. you’re looking up at him as if he’s the only person you’d ever seen. mouth slack as you regain your breath.

‘jesus christ,’ he whispers, hand resting on your angled knee as he floats back down to your planet.

eddie clambers off of the bed with a grunt, wiping a hand over his sweaty face. reaching down to grab his previously discarded towel. it wasn’t the epitome of romance but he darent to leave his room, petrified that wayne had just heard that entire encounter.

he’s a gentleman, of course, running the towel over your thigh to clean his mess. offering you a tiny shrug as if to say sorry. rather suddenly he feels rather conscious of himself, refusing to look at you as his cheeks flame.

it’s ridiculous. he’d just been buried between your legs and yet now couldn’t even look you in the fucking eyes.

before he gets up again, your hand reaches out, curling around his t-shirt. ‘stop,’ using his shirt as leverage for you to sit up.

in one quick movement, you’re placing a tiny onto his lips. a reassurance he really shouldn’t have needed but he appreciates nonetheless.

‘don’t do that,’ you hush, millimetres from his face, the shadow of his broken blinds shine upon your cheek. it hurts him to know that someone would dare look at you and want to hurt you.

if it were possible, he’d take all of your pain and carry it with him instead.

‘okay..’ he nods, resisting the urge to apologise once again.

you giggle and it sounds like the heavens have opened, pulling his body on top of yours as his bed makes an almighty squeak. if wayne wasn’t already awake, he certainly would be now.

-

eddie doesn’t know where the fuck you are.

you hadn’t come back to the trailer after work last night and now you’re nowhere to be found. you were supposed to start half an hour ago but hadn’t turned up and now his heart is pounding, mind racing at the horrific possibilities of what could’ve happened.

at first, he’d thought maybe he said something wrong? he’d just thrown out the suggestion of going to get the rest of your things and moving them in here while you got back on your feet. he hadn’t meant to push you out, god no, that was the last thing he wanted.

maybe stupidly he had presumed you wanted your own space. whatever the hell was going on between you two was so fresh, he didn’t want to even chance fucking it up.

the guilt wracks his brain, tempted to drop everything to drive around this tiny town looking for you. he’s so stupid. should’ve just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed it while you were there.

he’s just about to tell james that he’s leaving when the door to the bar opens and a rough looking man comes through with you held tightly underneath his arm. your eyes avoiding his direction, staring at the floor as the mystery man ushers you towards the back, making himself comfortable at the bar.

eddie’s heart shatters into a million pieces, watching open mouthed as you disappear into the back.

judging by the look on james’ face, he recognises him, reluctantly pouring his beer as they engage in useless small talk.

‘thought i’d better sit in for her shift.. wouldn’t want her running off again,’ the man announces, beady eyes glaring right into his soul.

eddie knows who he is. he’d never seen him before but he could tell. they all had that sinister aura about them, like they could flip at any given moment. his dad was the same, walking on egg shells around him just in case he said the wrong thing or looked at him the wrong way.

you emerge from the staff room, still vehemently avoiding eye contact, a shell of the you he saw just yesterday. ‘hey.. you okay?’ eddie asks, but it falls flat as you walk off without so much as a look back towards him.

he can’t believe it, how you could be so different so quickly. as if the past few weeks you’d spent together had meant nothing. he can’t blame you. not really. it’s a cycle and he knows better than anyone that it takes a thousand attempts to actually break out of it.

his shoulders slump as he rushes out the back, refusing to look at that assholes face any longer. willing himself to get a grip and not jump over that bar to strangle the piece of shit right now.

a hand clamps down on his shoulder and for a brief moment he thinks he might be you until james clears his throat, shuffling on his feet behind him, ‘you can’t save her man,’ squeezing his shoulder firmly, ‘you think we haven’t tried?’

eddie sniffs, shrugging him off. he didn’t appreciate the patronising tone in which james was speaking to him.

because god knows, if he couldn’t save his mom, there’s no fucking chance he’s not saving you.

[vickyzangels]

% “..but i kinda hope they catch us, anyway.”

# synopsis ; an anon asked for sfw and nsfw headcanons for tom but i accidentally deleted the ask while trying to fight for my life against tumblr because every time i added a border two other pictures would disappear tumblr i hope you fall down the stairs

# pairing ; tom kaulitz x reader

# word count ; 551

# tags ; nsfw further under “keep reading” (mdni)

a/n ; i’m gonna drop this first but i have a nearly finished smut oneshot literally sitting in docs rn if i get decent enough feedback on this i’ll drop it

sfw

y’all remember that interview where he said he’d “fall in love for only a night but that he’d be down for true love later”? yeah unfortunately that applied to you, too

this can go one of two ways, you work close to the band as staff or you were a fan at one of their concerts that for some reason has to keep coming back and tom took a visual liking to you

what goes down between you two after he first notices you is vague but tom keeps seeing you every time you’re around and you started weaseling your way into his head at every hour of the day

he’d never admit that though (yet), so he’s still gonna keep up his playboy act for a bit but you’re gonna pick up that he’s being closer to you like making small jokes with you and being a little nicer

god it took you so long but he finally let you squeeze through his shell enough to be relatively close friends for a while but this definitely became a “do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways” situation

yes the feeling did flow both ways, too bad he was still a player and you didn’t wanna ruin anything so you just endlessly flirted with each other

i am 92% sure he came to you first at an afterparty absolutely wasted and told you in german “du bist so unglaublich schön und ich will dich so sehr.” you are so infuriatingly beautiful and i want you so bad.

unfortunately, bill had to translate for you

i’ve been talking a lot so i’ll try to sum up a relationship with him and add miscellaneous points

he makes an effort to act like a boyfriend in your relationship, like he doesn’t openly flirt with other people out of genuine respect for you

first date was something like you two staying over at one of your houses for the night like a sleepover or doing something in the city

he has never forgotten any important day for you. never. and on that topic, he’ll get gifts for those days nearly months in advance

he appreciates a person with aesthetic

i’m lying, tom would fall head over heels in love if you wear something even remotely close to his style

nsfw

tom is a dog, y’all have seen the way he talks about what he wants to do during sex but he’s the most respectful person someone could probably ever ask for, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to pause everything if you told him you felt a little uncomfortable

the type of guy to fake bang you from behind when you bend over to grab something.

he’d spit in your mouth, having you kneel in front of him and holding your jaw open by squeezing it then making you swallow it if you wanted to be touched at all

this almost isn’t a headcanon but he’s a tit guy, regardless of size he’d froth at the mouth just to hold them

there’s not a big dom/sub thing between you two but he’s a switch because i said so

y’all… his favorite position is doggy or prone bone doesn’t matter as long as he gets to pull you by your neck up to him

a/n ; wow. didn’t think i could write something like this but i have a lot more so lmk if i should make a part 2?

© ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO VICKYZANGELS. do not steal, repost, plagiarize, or use my work for anything.

[personne-reblogs]

AUTISTIC SWEEP

The shouts of the crowd are fading into white noise. 

The curtains are closing. 

The lights are dimming. 

The air still feels filled with static, though. 

This is a fight Donatello had known he couldn’t win, logically. The competition had been all fun and games, but this challenger was another story. No amount of support or hype could make up for such a gap; the bone deep certainty didn’t leave room for hard feelings. 

Struggling to catch his breath, battle shell against the wall, Donatello looks up from where he’s been getting some rest - not passed out rest, mind you. More like a beauty nap.

He lets out a genuine chuckle. 

Shigeo Kageyama is simply standing there, as he has been for most of the fight. 

“Sweet Marie Curie,” he puffs, keeping his voice level. The roar of the crowd hasn’t entirely died down, but he knows he is heard. “You don’t even have a scratch.”

The one they call Mob is giving him a stare. He still seems a little out of it. 

“You fought well,” he states calmly, and Donnie giggles. 

“Oh, please. I’ve been losing tournaments at home for as long as I can remember. You don’t need to feel sorry for me.”

At that, Mob flashes a grin. “I’m not sorry,” he says bluntly, coming over in lazy steps. “But it hasn’t been easy, either.”

He sits down, legs stretched out in front of him, and Donnie can now see that his breathing is a little heavy. He feels himself get cocky. 

“Well, I wasn’t about to just let you win. If I had to go down, might as well give ‘em a show, right?”

Mob sends him a sideway glance. “You really are all about dramatics.”

“What can I say?” Donnie sighs theatrically, proving his point. “This whole competition is about being swag. I could hardly disappoint.” 

“I don’t think you could," his opponent utters. “You’re very expressive.”

Donnie raises a perfectly drawn eyebrow. This is something he hasn’t often been told. He looks over to Mob, and the tension in the boy’s shoulders makes him hum in thought. 

“I don’t know who’s next, but you are going to crush them,” he provides. When Mob gives him a nonplussed glance, he goes on. “And even if you don’t, it’s still the last one. How good does that sound?”

“... it has been getting a bit much, to be honest.”

“Yeah, this is wild,” Donnie agrees. “Anyway, what are you gonna do with your trophy once you get it?”

Mob’s smile is a little shy, but he seems happy with the distraction. “I don’t know, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten one. What would you do?”

“Well, you see, there was this one time I won the Lair Games…”

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

In the next room, a very proud sensei and three worried brothers are getting impatient. 

The student and the sibling don’t seem to care at the moment. 

The crowd is gone. 

The curtains are closed. 

The lights are off. 

For now, making small talk with a former rival is just enough.

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

EDIT: there is now a sequel!

YOOO IT'S BEEN SUCH A WILD RIDE

Disclaimer: I have never read/watched mp100 and I deeply apologize for making him probably very ooc. Just wanted to celebrate this beast of a match in my own way, which is wishing I could draw and deciding to heave words on a doc instead lol

CONGRATS ON MOB!! The final match between mp100 and undertale is gonna be soooo funny but I think Mob's gonna win this thing like it's nothing tbh (he has my vote at least)

@autismswagsummit thank you for reblogging all that Donnie propaganda, I genuinely think he never would've made it this far without the signal boost!

All my thanks to the Rise fandom for these past few days! You guys have made such powerful content and there's been so much hype I'm shocked. SHOCKED I TELL YOU

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can we get a sequel to the story of reader liking Pavitr, but Pavitr and Gayatri are happily together? Like Hobie or Gwen visit Pavitr and the reader meets them and they form a bond? romantic or platonic, reader just needs a buddy.

Thank you for everyone who wanted a part 2! Also this is kinda a long one so…I still hope you enjoy. 🦦

@sh-tposter2021 @thebiggestsimpoutthere @ii01vp

Part 1

It had been several weeks since you learnt of Pavitr and Gayatri’s relationship, and it’s been just as long since you’ve distanced yourself from Pavitr. While his absence was greatly felt and while there were times where you felt like being a hypocrite and run back to him, you had to remind yourself of why you were doing this in the first place; for the betterment of your own health and to remind yourself of who you were before ever meeting Pavitr because once upon a time there were chapters of your life that didn’t involve him.

You had to frequently remind yourself that you’ll be fine without Pavitr as he was seemingly fine without you now he had the prettiest girl in Mumbattan hanging off of his arm to fawn over, and all without having to take into account of how you felt about the public displays of affection that’d pierce your heart over. And over. And over again.

And yet while you’ve lead yourself to believe that Pavitr has seamlessly moved on without you, what you didn’t know was that Pavitr had been wanting you to meet his other friends, Hobie and Gwen, for a really long time now and even went as far as to set up the whole thing; only for it to come crushing down on him days later when you walked away from him with tears in your eyes and a forced smile. So when the day of your supposed get together came, Pavitr genuinely didn’t know what to tell Hobie and Gwen when he saw them. He didn’t want to send them away, that would be considered rude and disrespectful of the time that they had both set aside to be here, yet he didn’t want them to stay if you weren’t going to be there.

Fortunately and unfortunately for Pavitr, Gwen and Hobie could tell that during the period between their last visit to Mumbattan and now, something had to have happened for Pavitr’s demeanour to drastically change. ‘So where’s this y/n you’ve been talking our ear of about?’ Hobie asked, looking about the room as though you were going to pop out at them.

‘They’re not coming,’ Pavitr solemnly told them, ‘I’d like to think we’re still friends but it’s been so long since I’ve last seen them, that now…now I’m not so sure. I don’t want to loose my best fiend but I’m pretty certain they don’t want to talk to me.’ Pavitr then looked between his friends almost helplessly as he fiddles with the friendship bracelet that you made him out of habit. ‘All I wanna know is what I’ve done and how I can fix it.’ Gwen stepped forward and pressed a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. ‘I’m sure they’re not mad at you Pav but I’m assuming they just wanted a little space to themselves.’ She told him but it didn’t seem to have helped at all.

‘We can go look for them and get the answer out of them that way?’ Hobbie said but before Pavitr could answer, he was reminded that he had a date with Gayatri later. The thought of his beautiful girlfriend made all his daily worries seep away from his mind as though she was the cleansing he required, there wasn’t a day where Pavitr didn’t count himself lucky in being able to date the most beautiful, amazing, most funniest girl; and he never fails to tells her every day how happy he was to be with her and be able to have the honour of calling her his. ‘Oh I can’t, I’ve got a date with my girlfriend Gayatri soon.’ Pavitr told Hobie.

‘Then how about me and Hobie go talk to them on your behalf?’ Gwen pitched.

‘But we don’t know where they’ll be right now.’ Hobie countered. ‘We’d waste the day away trying to look for them like we’re a bunch of headless chickens.’

‘We might not be on speaking terms but I do know where they’d like to be whenever they want to be left alone.’ Pavitr pipped up before telling the pair of the exact location before they parted ways; Hobie and Gwen to look for you whilst Pavitr went on his date with Gayatri.

Following Pavitr’s instructions, it didn’t take Hobie and Gwen long to find you sat on your lonesome upon a barren rooftop aside from a few weeds and bunches of moss that were growing up and through the cracks within the concrete. One look upon your worn out face told the pair that whatever happened between you and Pavitr took it’s toll on you a lot harder then it did Pavitr; not that they were saying that he wasn’t suffering but he had Gayatri, whereas you probably only had Pavitr to fall back on in times like this but now you probably had nobody. Both Hobie and Gwen were very familiar with the feeling of having nobody in your corner, so it was fairly easy for them to recognise the signs.

‘Is that them?’ Gwen asked Hobie, watching you as you looked out over the liveliness that filled the streets below with the vaguest look upon your face. Hobie shrugs, ‘must be, otherwise Pav wouldn’t have told us to come here if that weren’t the case.’

‘They look-‘

‘Lonely, yeah I agree.’ Hobie finished Gwen’s thought before he started moving towards you when Gwen called out to him. ‘What’re you doing?’ She asks and he looks back at her and said, ‘being a descent human being.’ Before continuing on his way towards you;only to be joined by Gwen not a moment later.

You weren’t fully aware of their presence until you felt Hobie seat himself at your left as Gwen seated herself at your right, but even even then you didn’t have it within you to remove yourself, the company of strangers felt nice to your aching soul because after all humans are social creatures that thrived off of having company. ‘Hey.’ Gwen said, catching your attention first. ‘Hi, I’m sorry but I don’t believe I’ve seen either of you here before.’ You told her, not wanting to come off as rude. ‘You’re right but we’re just paying our friend Pavitr a visit but he’s on a date right now and told us to come hang with you.’ Hobie answered and upon hearing Pavitr’s name, you tensed; Something both Hobie and Gwen both took notice.

‘If you’re here to get me into talking to him you can think again,’ you told them rather sternly, ‘I ain’t getting my heart broken twice.’ You added softer this time as you rested your head atop of your arms that were atop of your knees that you had tucked tight against your chest. ‘What did you mean by getting your heart broken twice?’ Gwen asked, looking over at Hobie who was already looking at her. You chuckled humourlessly as you felt tears once again well up in your eyes, you genuinely thought you were past crying over him but it seemed as though the wound your heart sustained was still bleeding. ‘I had a crush on him, Pavitr,’ you began, ‘but it was obvious that he liked Gayatri more and I don’t blame him, she’s gorgeous, funny, cool, sociable, smart and sweet. It just got to the point where being with him while he was still openly pinning after her was physically hurting me and I didn’t want to complicate things all because I can’t regulate my feelings.’ You finished, feeling slightly better to have finally let it out rather then inside like you had.

So this was the thing that happened between you and their friend. You liked him to the point where you selflessly removed yourself so that your feelings didn’t jeopardise his dream relationship with Gayatri but in the process, you cut yourself off from the only support you ever had in your life and now you were paying the price by suffering through all your emotions on your own. ‘I’m sorry, neither of you should have to be on the receiving end of my grievances.’ You said after a couple minutes of silence, but that soon came to an abrupt halt when Hobie slugged his arm over your shoulder and brought you into his side as Gwen reached out to hold your hand within her own. ‘Don’t ever say sorry for things that ain’t under your control,’ Hobie started, squeezing your shoulder, ‘and besides we’re the ones who asked about it in the first place. So don’t ever feel as though you have to apologise for everything, alright?’ You hummed in response.

‘Hobie’s right, I’m sorry that I made you brought this up.’ Gwen told you, just about to let go of your hand, but you were quick to tighten your hold in a silent plea for her to not go as you shot her a weak smile. ‘It’s not your fault,’ you told her, ‘it was bound to come up and if anything I’m glad you did because had you not I was beginning to get scared that it would come out at the wrong place at the wrong time. So instead I should be thanking you, both of you and I haven’t gotten either of your names yet.’

‘Oh right, well I’m Gwen Stacy,’ Gwen introduced herself before gesturing towards the lad who still had you coddled into his side, ‘and this is my friend Hobie Brown.’

‘Hi.’ You said tearfully as a smile beamed across your face.

‘Hiya yourself.’ Hobie replied as he wiped away some of your tears. ‘Despite crying you’re heart out, you still find it within you to smile. Now that’s a power I ain’t ever seen before and I find it admirable because it tells me that not only are you selfless but strong too.’ He adds and you couldn’t help but feel more tears arise to the surface, causing you to avert you gaze. ‘I’m sorry.’ You said weakly as Gwen felt her heart break for you as Hobie held onto you tighter whilst softly shushing you. ‘Please don’t ever apologise for having emotions.’ Gwen told you as an idea popped into her head as she adds on, ‘would you like to getaway with us? Do something to take your mind off of Pavitr?’ You looked at her before looking at Hobie who, in his mind, had already taken you under his wing and was on board with whatever Gwen had in mind.

‘Only if it’s alright with you guys, I don’t want to intrude on anythin-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Hobie had already begun to stand up before then proceeding to dragging you up along with him, whilst also managing in keeping you under his arm. ‘It’s too late, you’re apart of us now y/n, there is no such thing as intruding in anything when you’re with us.’ Hobie states as Gwen caught up with you two with a smile on her face, revealing her gap tooth as she nudged your side. ‘Your stuck with us now, how terrible is that?’ She joked and you couldn’t help but smile back at her, feeling deep inside that everything was going to be okay now that you had Hobie and Gwen. ‘Yeah, what a terrible fate I’ve been doomed to.’ You joked equally.

[notsoattractivearenti]

Comfort Person (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader)

WC: 700+

Warnings: curse words

A/N: a quick and short one written for my girlies for a little pick-me-up, especially @swimmingismywholelife 🤍 hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 🫶🏻 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated ❤️

—

It has been a long difficult few weeks for you and you felt like the universe was punishing you for simply just existing. Bad things after bad things kept happening and made you feel like shit – the worst thing was that most things were out of your control. The helplessness you were experiencing was quite exhausting and a lot for you to handle.

You came home after work looking all upset and tired – you just wanted to lay in bed with your boyfriend, Christian, doing nothing until the day is finally over and probably have to go through another shit day all over again. You acted like you had no will to live anymore, though you kept wishing for good luck to finally be on your side.

Christian greeted you cheerfully the second you got home, your grumpy face caught his attention.

“Hello my beautiful lady, why so grumpy?”

“Ugh, another day another crap.” You grunted.

He pulled you in and gave you a kiss on your forehead and a big hug.

“Oh, my poor baby. Want to tell me what happened today?” He softly asked as he stroked your back.

“Maybe later, I need to change first. And eat. And watching a series.”

“Okay…” He kissed the top of your head. “Hope you don’t mind having Italian for dinner because I already got us some pasta and pizza.”

“Love it. Thank you.” You slightly smiled.

One of the things you love so much about Christian is that he knows how to give you the comfort you need. Somehow he always finds the right way to lighten up your mood no matter how terrible it might be – and this night was no different.

Now you’ve changed into your comfy clothes, you went to the living room and saw Christian was already there setting up the table in front of the TV and putting on your favorite show. He saw you coming over and his face lit up.

“Come on, dinner is ready!” He said as he pulled your hand and sat on the sofa.

He knew you just wanted to lay down and relax, therefore he brought the dinner to the living room so you could lay on the sofa and have your dinner there.

“So, do you feel ready to let me know what happened today?”

You sighed.

“Yeah… This day was terrible, again. Are you sure you want to hear shitty things all over again?”

He pulled you closer and let you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m all ears, my love.”

You then told him everything that happened to you earlier today. He was listening closely to you while you ranted about having to go through another difficult day – not once he let you out of his sight. He stroked your arms and your hair and gave you little kisses during. He really was empathized with you for what you went through, and he knew the only thing he could do was to be there for you – to comfort you in any way he could give you.

“Y/N, sweetheart… I’m sorry things have not been easy for you lately, but you know I’m here for you if you need anything.”

You sighed and slowly nodded.

“You know what, you are the strongest person I’ve ever known. Though life keeps throwing bad things at you, you’re still able to move forward. You should be proud of yourself! You and your resilience will never fail to amaze me.”

“Resilience? Do you mean me bitching about my problems?”

“I mean, that is the way you cope… And it is totally acceptable! I don’t mind hearing you, as you said “bitching about your problems”, because I’d rather you talk to me rather than keeping them to yourself!”

You let out a genuine smile and your eyes were already watery and red. God, what did I do to deserve a wonderful man like him? You thought to yourself.

“I… Ah, I don’t… I don’t know… I don’t know what to say…” You stuttered, your voice was breaking.

“You’ve said everything,” he chuckles, “don’t worry my love. I just said what I needed to say.”

You leaned in and kissed him on the lips. You couldn’t hold back your tears any longer, you started to cry.

“Chris… Despite all this shit, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you, and I’m forever grateful to have you in my life…” You tearfully express your gratitude for him.

He wiped away your tears then kissed you.

“I love you more, Y/N.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem

[the-lonelybarricade]

What Do You Know About Love - (4/?)

Summary: When Elain discovers a centuries old love letter, written in secret and never sent, she decides that she's going to be the one to finally deliver it. Even if finding its intended recipient means going on a mission with Lucien Vanserra. Set post ACoSF.

A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 4: High Society

Chapter 4 - Of Nights and Days

Read on AO3 ・Previous Chapter

-

As a child, Lucien’s Mother used to tell him stories of the Day Court.

She had never been to the Solar Court, as far as he could tell, but she always spoke fondly of its people, its customs, whenever the two of them were alone.

Not all Courts are like ours, she once told him. In Autumn, we’re so confined by rules; where we can go and what we can say and who we can speak to. But I’ve heard that in the Day Court, they value community over hierarchy. They relish in communal spaces—I’ve heard the High Lord even shares meals with his servants.

It sounded like an impossible thing to Lucien, at the time. His father barely indulged in a meal with his own children, let alone a servant. And he’d often been told, from his brothers as well as in his studies, that the High Lords of the Solar Courts were arrogant and self-serving.

He’d always privately thought his mother was embellishing her stories, trying to stoke whimsy in a childhood that sought to stamp any brightness out of him. Or that perhaps she wanted it to be real, for her own peace of mind.

Regardless, Lucien always thought of her whenever he was in the Day Court. Always wished he could write to her, to tell her that everything she’d hoped was true.

It’s freedom like you’d never seen, he would write. Their spellwork is so advanced that they have no need for doors or locks. The entire palace is open archways and exposed atriums. A breeze off the sea could flow from one end and out the other.

It always astounded him, the openness. As if the High Lord of the Day Court had no qualms of someone wandering in and discovering all his secrets. If not for his mechanical eye, he would believe that, but a cursory glance was all he needed to detect the hundreds of overlapping wards, some of its spellwork so complex that it would take a scholar centuries to untangle its magic.

“Wow,” Elain breathed beside him, sweeping wide brown eyes over the pointed archway before them, and the row upon row upon row of arches behind it, each of them detailed with colorful tiles and carved pillars.

Then she turned, casting her attention over the railing of the veranda they’d winnowed into, taking in the temperate air and the swaying palms with no shortness of reverence. It agonized him, the way her pink lips parted so softly in wonder, the way his thumb twitched to trace the curve of her lower lip.

If there was one thing he regretted most about the Solstice, it was that he’d walked away knowing how those lips felt against his own. How they could let out the softest, sweetest little gasp. How he hadn’t, not for a single moment of reprieve, managed to stop thinking about them, even in moments where he needed to start thinking about something, anything else.

Moments like this.

Where Elain turned to him, something sparkling in her eyes, and said, “It’s beautiful.”

No it’s not, he wanted to say. Not even close.

There was no definition of beauty that could ever skew away from Elain herself. Though perhaps, through the standards that existed before she rose from the Cauldron and rivaled his every understanding of the word, the Day Court could be considered beautiful.

“I’m sure there will be an opportunity for a tour later,” Lucien said instead, somehow coaxing his voice into neutrality. “I’ve heard Helion boasts an expansive garden,”

“I heard there’s a thousand libraries, too,” she said, still with that thrilling look in her eye.

Excitement, Lucien thought. He’d never seen it on her before. Feigned enthusiasm, if he was lucky, but pure, genuine excitement? He knew he had nothing to do with it, that it was simply the result of being here, outside of the gods-forsaken Night Court for a change. Even so, an absurd swell of pride filled his chest, some latent instinct sated at knowing his mate was happy. That he’d brought her that happiness, indirectly or otherwise.

“There is,” he said, unable to help his small, satisfied smile. “Its scholars may even be able to help you find the recipient of that letter.”

Her face lit up. “You think?”

“They are expert historians. And,” he glanced at the palace’s entrance, ensuring no one was coming by, before saying, “I hear they’re insufferable gossips. If there was a scandal at a Halieia ball, one of them surely knows something about it.”

Elain laughed. Laughed. Just a small, bubbly giggle, really, and he swallowed, uncertain if he’d ever heard the sound before. If he’d ever elicited that sound before. He wondered how he would be able to cope for every infinite expanse of moments after, knowing what her laughter sounded like and that he was not presently hearing it.

It reminded him of the stories they used to tell children at revelries, the ones that were eventually passed to the human realms and became the fabric of myth and legend. Don’t eat the food, don’t drink the wine.

He knew the reason. There were fae wines rumored to be so sweet that a sensible male could become an addict from just a single drop. One taste, and he would become enthralled, willing to trade anything for another sip. A slave to his own desire.

That was how it felt to hear Elain’s laughter.

And as he contemplated all of the things he would be willing to do to hear it again, he considered how he was so, catastrophically, fucked. It would be impossible to endure one day of this, let alone a hundred—potentially more. Rhysand had given no indication of how long Lucien was expected to stay, nor what Lucien was even expected to do.

It was concerning to think that was how blindingly loyal he’d become to the Night Court. In a thousand centuries, he never thought he’d play willingly into the High Lord of Night’s machinations. Yet there he was, dressed in regalia that spoke of pride. Allegiance.

Rhysand hadn’t requested any bargain or oath of loyalty, but he hadn’t needed to.

The High Lord knew that Lucien would do whatever he asked. Because of her.

Elain looked at him, oblivious to the ways she’d permanently warped his loyalties. And to the carnage she wracked in him by slotting her teeth against her lower lip and saying, “That’s reassuring, because gossip is something we’re experts at in the human realm.”

“Oh, I’ve heard.”

Lucien thought of the endless gossip Vassa and Jurian liked to share with him. Who was seen where with whom, who was getting married, who was having children, who was running away with the blacksmith’s daughter. It all seemed tedious to Lucien, and always boiled down to two people fucking—or wanting to fuck, and avoiding doing so for strange, prudish human reasoning. He supposed with short life spans, humans felt the need to sensationalize every trivial event in their lives.

Though suddenly, Lucien wanted to know every petty piece of human gossip Elain had ever felt inclined to keep hold of.

The smile she offered him was intriguingly conspiratorial.

“There’s a secret to it, you know.”

He leaned closer, completely entranced. “A secret to what?”

“Gossip.”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“It’s a game,” she said. “At least in the mortal realm. There’s a delicate balance between offering up too much or too little. If you offer up nothing, your peers will think you're oblivious to your surroundings or worse—sanctimonious. But if you share too much that makes you untrustworthy.”

“I can see it already,” he murmured, fascinated at the gleam in her eyes. She had a competitive streak, and he was eager to file that discovery away for later use. “You must have been fierce competition during the social seasons.”

The proud tilt of her chin certainly suggested as much, though she was too polite to admit it.

“I perfected how to share details just tantalizing enough to not betray anyone who held me in confidence. And because gossip is always a competition of who knows most, I always received the most scandalous rumors in exchange.”

“You would make an impressive emissary with that skill set,” he said, pleased to see a flush crawling up her cheeks. In the past, she’d always shrunk away from his attempts to compliment her.

Encouraged, he edged the slightest bit closer, placing his palm against the rail to steady himself for her scent. In the open air, some of it was being carried away, drifting towards the green bay at the bottom of the hill. But the remainder of that sweet jasmine and pear scent lingered in the air around her, tangling his senses like a hidden snare.

Elain stiffened at their proximity, but she didn’t pull away. It was progress, he reasoned.

“What would you share with the scholars, then, to find out what happened at the ball?”

After a moment of thought, she said, “Do you think they’d be interested to know that the High Lord of the Night Court has taken up knitting as a pastime?”

“Oh?” drawled a deep voice. “How quaint. Do you think he’d knit a loincloth for me?.”

Elain’s hand flew to her chest, a gasp hitching out of those perfect lips as she scrambled back from Lucien, all of their so-called progress crumbling into sand. It was like she feared being caught alone with him, as if she didn’t want anyone to know they could be friendly with each other. For the sake of his pride, he told himself it was a lingering scruple of the mortal realm.

Yet it still rubbed against an old, festering wound.

Unwanted. Unneeded. Undesirable.

Hastily brushing his bruised ego aside, Lucien turned to their new arrival.

It was difficult to examine him too closely, in the same way one could never glimpse the sun in full. Magic radiated from him, even with a glamor, like a kernel of the sun lived beneath the High Lord’s dark brown skin. He was covered in more gold than cloth—a spiked crown atop his head, a collar around his throat, draping a waterfall of golden chains across his exposed chest and arms. White cloth hung from his hips, secured in place by a slanted jeweled belt, and the fabric was slit on both sides to expose his wide thighs.

“High Lord,” Lucien greeted, exceedingly careful not to glance towards Elain. He had no interest in marking her reaction to the male and all of the skin he had on display. “Lucien, Emissary of the Night Court, at your service.”

“A Vanserra,” Helion repeated under his breath. Not a question—if anything it was grumbled. And as Lucien raised his head, he could see the High Lord of the Day Court raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his broad nose. “I call in a favor and the bastard sends me a Vanserra.”

Wariness of his family name wasn’t unfounded, but Lucien couldn’t help his stab of irritation. Helion knew as well as any other High Fae that he’d been exiled from the Autumn Court centuries ago.

“I don’t use my family name,” he said flatly.

Helion hummed. “I don’t blame you. Tedious lot, that family of yours. I was hoping for the beautiful Mor, but I suppose your Knowledge of the other Courts may come in handy.”

With that quick dismissal, the High Lord’s attention roved away from Lucien and quickly landed on Elain. Lucien was careful to keep his expression neutral as the High Lord appraised her with an interest that made his skin itch. As if it no longer fit the beast stirring and writhing beneath.

“Where have they been hiding you?”

That deep, rich voice was now dripping in sensuality. The High Lord stepped toward her, a taunting smile growing on his lips when he noticed the way Lucien tensed. He knew what Helion was like with females—with males, too. Rumor said Helion was indiscriminate so long as a person was beautiful, and Elain was the most beautiful of all.

The High Lord offered her a bow, extending one of his broad hands to her. And Elain, too polite or perhaps equally enchanted, allowed him to take her hand and brush a kiss to the backs of her knuckles.

Easy, Lucien coached himself, tightening his leash on the instincts that demanded bloodshed at seeing another male touch his mate. Put his mouth on her—

Easy. He took a deep breath. She’s unharmed. She’s safe. She’s…

Enjoying it.

That was laughter slipping past her lips, mirth crinkling at her eyes, and a deep swatch of scarlet creeping over her elegant cheekbones. The bastard was practically half-clothed, and yet there wasn’t an ounce of the reservation she always seemed to possess in Lucien’s company.

In fact, her eyes were wandering over the High Lord’s exposed skin, admiring the golden cuff around his forearm—or perhaps the swelling muscle it constricted. Was that what she liked, then?

A sharp bitterness rose at the back of his tongue. Lucien was admittedly leaner than the High Lord. He knew he didn’t possess the same warrior build as so many of the males she spent her time around, but that could be helped. He trained regularly to keep his strength, but he could heighten his regimen, if that would encourage her eyes to wander towards him more often.

Though, if the appeal was Helion’s beauty… his striking face, which was notably unmarred, or his amber eyes, which were a matching color and simmering with impish delight as they beheld her. If those were what caused Elain to part her lips in wonder, then there was nothing Lucien could do to rectify that shortcoming in himself.

“Well?” Helion prompted, humor lacing his voice. “What brings a sweet little morsel like you to my Court?”

“She’s here on leisure, not Court business.” Lucien tried to sound bored, uninterested in whatever game the High Lord was trying to taunt him into playing. “Before you get any ideas, Feyre made it clear that she’s not to be involved.”

He produced a letter from his pocket between realms, holding it between his fingers in offer, but not extending it any further. Helion could take his damned hands off Elain and collect it himself.

The High Lord didn’t let go of her hand, but he did raise his mouth from its place at her knuckles to regard Lucien, then the letter—each with a cool indifference. With a snap of his fingers, a sun-kissed breeze swept in from the sea and snatched the parchment from Lucien’s fingertips. The swift, jerking motion morphed the paper’s dull edge into a blade, and Lucien hissed as it sliced against his thumb.

By the time the letter floated to Helion and unfolded for his surveillance, the blood had already welled and sealed over. There was no apology in the High Lord’s grin, only challenge. And if Elain was aware of the transgression, if she could scent the copper of Lucien’s blood carried over on the breeze, she said nothing. Only watched with curious eyes as Helion unfolded the letter.

It didn’t say much. Similar to Lucien's meeting with Rhysand the night before, the details were frustratingly cryptic. A trade deal. That’s all he’s been told. Not which territory they’d be trading with, not the contents of what they’d be trading, no indication of any timeline.

None of it boded well. And Feyre’s refusal to let Elain be involved did little to ease his suspicions. If it was a simple negotiation, why wouldn’t they want Elain to gain exposure to Court politics?

“I see,” Helion said, scanning the letter’s contents. He clicked his tongue, the golden paint smeared beneath his lower lashes glistening as he turned back to Elain. “Pity, that beautiful face would have made these tedious meetings much more bearable. But it’s a pleasure to have you in my court, nonetheless, Lady Elain.”

Elain bowed her head and, at last, withdrew her hand. “Thank you for your generosity, High Lord.”

“Call me Helion,” he purred. “If only because it will rile that mate of yours.”

She winced at the word. Mate. That sacred, special word that Lucien was so careful not to use around her. The one syllable monument to the fate they danced around, because if they were to acknowledge it she would get that look on her face, the one she was wearing now, and he would feel it like a serrated blade in his chest, sawing against the bone and sinew of a bond that refused to tear, though he felt each abrasion just the same.

Lucien resisted the urge to rise to the jab. He wanted to insist that he was not that kind of mate, that he was different than the territorial male she feared being shackled to. But if he continued speaking for her, it would only lend weight to the accusation.

He bit his tongue—bit it until he tasted blood in his mouth.

“Helion,” she said, testing the name and earning a lazy smile from the male in return. “I hear that you have a thousand libraries in this Court.”

“I do. Are you here seeking knowledge, Lady?”

Did she catch it, Lucien wondered, that subtle shift in Helion’s tone? Still warm, still overtly friendly, but sharpened just enough to suggest that he recognised the danger in the knowledge his Court guarded. And that by virtue of seeking it, Elain posed a threat.

She was a stranger to him after all. An Archeron, yes, but still mated to a Vanserra. That made her untrustworthy on principle. And despite her beauty and innocent demeanor, which may have earned her trust in the mortal realm, here it would only earn her scrutiny. In Prythain, any fae past infancy knew the flowers with the loveliest blooms were most often poisonous.

“No,” she said, turning timid beneath his assessment. “I—I never learned how to read, my Lord. My sisters and I lost any proper education to poverty. But I am fascinated by architecture, and I enjoy the quiet of a library to work on my embroidery.”

Elain, illiterate? He knew that Feyre had been, and that it’d once nearly gotten him killed. But surely he would know if his own mate was, too. Lucien’s mind scrambled back to every past encounter, trying to remember if he’d ever seen Elain reading. She’d been sitting in the library the first time he’d spoken to her, but she’d been thin and pale and absently staring out a window, not saying or doing much of anything.

Did she truly not know how to read? And no one in that house had noticed, or bothered teaching her?

Helion cast his eyes towards Lucien, measured the rage in his expression, and hummed. “We have tutors in this court who could teach you, if you’d like. And some say the architectural feats of my libraries do rival the knowledge they contain. I’ll let my scholars know you’re welcome to explore them at your leisure.”

Elain curtsied again. “You’re too kind, my Lord.”

And as that subtle gleam returned to her eye, the memory clicked. The letter that inspired her to come here. Just this morning, he’d cradled a flame in his palm and admired how his magic cast streaks in her hair while she’d read the letter’s contents.

“Helion,” he insisted again, gentler.

She played him. And he bought it.

Lucien had to turn away, casting his eyes toward the veranda and the city sprawled along the hillside below. There was no one to witness the smile twitching over his lips, the one he couldn’t restrain, though he tried.

Elain manipulated one of the most powerful males in the world. Someone who far exceeded her in age and power and stature. She did it without blinking, or losing the bashful glow on her cheeks.

And it was the most attractive thing Lucien had ever witnessed.

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 4

a/n: sorry this is a bit late, Halloweekend got very busy. Enjoy!!

Other chapters

Warnings: none

Word count: 2k

“I suggest someone else take her back, she did not have a good time during the flight” Cassian says and flashes you a mischievous grin. His face drops when he sees the far away look in your eyes and the wet streaks on your cheeks “seriously though, can someone winnow her?” “I need to speak with Lucien so I can take her, but I have a few meetings until later in the afternoon” she looks to Mor “do you mind giving her a tour of the house and finding her a room in the meantime?” Mor adjusts her hair and says “of course, we can have a little girls day and get to know each other a bit. I’ll fill you in on all of our juicy gossip” she winks at you. You wipe your tears away and put on a poor excuse of a smile “that sounds great, I love to gossip”. You laugh, kind of, trying to ignore the pang in your chest. Memories of long gossip sessions with friends flashing through your mind. At coffee shops, during phone calls, at sleep-overs before you fall asleep. Amren gets up from her chair “I assume this meeting is over. I’ll see if I can find something in my personal library” and walks out. “Meeting adjourned '' Rhysand announces and the group stands to go their own ways. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, y/n” Feyre smiles and walks out of the room. Mor is waiting for you by the doorway “Come on, girl, there’s a lot to see”. 

“I think this should be your room” Mor opens the door and lets you walk in first. The tour had been… a lot to take in. The house is huge and it’s beautiful but it has about a hundred floors and a million rooms. When you step through the door, you’re not shocked to see a beautifully decorated room with an incredible view to match. Velaris, the city of starlight, Mor had told you. “It’s close to the stairs, has its own bathing room and if you pull this back” she goes towards the curtains and reveals a glass door that blends in perfectly with the wall of windows “a balcony! I think no one has claimed this one because it is a little on the smaller side but if all goes well you’ll be on your way home soon” she smiles as you look around. This room is twice the size of my room back home. The bed looks divine, it is made with expensive looking linens, it has about ten decorative pillows that take up half of the mattress. You sit on it and lay back. Good god, I’m never leaving this bed. “This is the most extravagant bed and room I’ve ever seen, let alone stayed in” months of traveling on a budget had gotten you accustomed to thin mattresses at crowded hostels or questionable spare bedrooms from online listings. This was luxury. From what you had gathered last night, a High Lord is someone akin to a king and by the looks of this “house” Rhysand has the taste and wallet of true royalty. “I can’t disagree, it is beautiful” she sits next to you “so… I was serious about the gossip. There are some things you might want to know about the whole dynamic within the Court of Dreams” you can’t help the genuine smile that comes on “tell me everything”. “I knew there was something about you that I liked” she giggles “ok so since you’ve met Lucien I guess we can start with him and Elain. This is crazy, the poor male has terrible luck. Anyways Elain is Feyre’s sister and quick backstory, Feyre and her sisters were humans but for different reasons got turned Fae a while back. Elain and Nesta got dunked in the Cauldron and that turned them. The thing is that all of us were there when it happened and when Elain came out of the Cauldron, the mating bond snapped between her and Lucien-” Oh this is good. “Mating bond?” “Oh right, a mating bond is something that happens between two people destined by the Mother, as I was saying Lucien just says it in front of everyone and Elain is there like totally in shock. Flash forward to a few weeks later her mortal fiance hates Fae and wants nothing to do with her now and she wants nothing to do with Lucien and then Azriel kind of likes Elain now” she goes on to tell you about how Feyre and Rhysand met and Cassian and Nesta. You noticed that she didn’t tell you anything about her own drama but chose to not acknowledge it. It was comforting in a way that these magical beings had personal dramas and gossiped about it like you and your friends did “those stories are wild, Mor” she nods “we’ve been alive so long that we really have to work hard to keep things interesting” you snort and there's a knock on the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt but y/n, I’m ready to go when you are” Feyre says and you quickly get up from where you’ve made yourself comfortable on the bed. “Yeah, let’s go. Thanks for everything Mor” you quickly hug her and go towards Feyre. “How are we getting there?” you ask, not sure what to expect  “I’ll winnow us, you’ll see” you walk until you reach the terrace where you had landed with Cassian earlier and look at her wearily “this place is warded against winnowing so I’ll fly us out until we pass the wards and then I’ll winnow to the Manor”. As she speaks, wings appear on her back and she holds out her hands for you “it’ll be quick. I promise” you gulp. 

Feyre did not lie when she said it would be quick but left out that it would feel like the world is slipping from your grasp. You feel sick as she puts you down. You rest your hands on your knees in an attempt to steady yourself. “It takes a bit of getting used to” she lets you take a breath and you say “It beats going through TSA”. Feyre nods and when you’ve gathered yourself begins the short walk to the manor. 

Packing up your belongings was incredibly underwhelming. You had folded the tunic you’d been using as pajamas and the dress Vassa had given you and stuffed it in your bag. Feyre and Lucien had gone to the library to talk about whatever it was they had to discuss. You had a feeling they were talking about you and if you posed a threat of some kind, feeling that the offer of staying in the House of Wind came from the Court of Dreams wanting to keep a close eye on you. You zip everything up and descend the stairs to find your hosts and thank them for everything. Walking to the kitchen you find Jurian making dinner “they really take advantage of your talents here”. He turns from where he is chopping up produce and lets out a chuckle “it’s the price I pay for pissing Vassa off”. “What did you do?” you ask but before he can answer a lovely feminine voice interjects “he was being an idiot as usual” Jurian rolls his eyes but does not defend himself. “On that note,” you try to diffuse the tension “I’ll be staying at the Night Court while they research how to get me back home, thank you so much for everything. I think I would’ve been dead days ago if it weren’t for you” Vassa pouts “I’ll be sad to see you go, it was such a relief to have some feminine energy around here, but I understand” she walks over and hugs you tightly “please come say goodbye once you’ve figured it all out” you hug her back. Jurian stays by his vegetables as he says “you have to eat dinner here though, I’m making enough for the four of us and Lucien brought pie for dessert”. Your chest warms. He really got the pie. “In that case Feyre, will have to wait” you beam. 

After dinner and dessert with the exiles Feyre lets you know she’ll be waiting outside while you say your goodbyes. You hug Vassa and kiss Jurian on the cheek. Lucien offers to walk you to the door and you take the chance to say “thank you for the pie, it was delicious”. He offers you a half smile “you’ve had a rough few days, it’s the least I can do”. “Will you come visit?” you ask hoping the answer is yes. Everyone in the Night Court seems nice enough but Lucien, Jurian and Vassa have a special place in your heart. “I’m due to go there for a meeting in a few weeks. You’re always welcome to use your room here as well” nodding you hug him and without letting go say “I’m nervous”. He hugs you back “you’re in good hands, the House of Wind is safer and you’ll have everything you need”. You let go and walk out the door. 

Feyre walks with you until you reach your room “Mor showed you the kitchen and the common areas?” you walk in and set your bag down. “Yes, she was very thorough with her tour” you felt heavy. Maybe it was the flying and winnowing or saying goodbye or the weight of your reality crashing down on you. “Alright, try to sleep, if you need anything ask the house and if there’s an emergency you can wake up Azriel, his room is across the hall”. You remember him from earlier, tall, wings and devastatingly handsome. Historically, you had never figured out how to act around attractive men and during the meeting it was incredibly difficult to focus on retelling your story. “Thank you, Feyre” she goes to walk out and says “I’ll let you know tomorrow when the priestesses begin their research so you can join them if you like”. 

Wait, did she say ask the house if I need anything? You go to ask her but she’s gone. “House? Can I have water?” you ask to see if you had heard correctly. You are shocked when you see a tray with a jug of water and a glass appear on the bedside table. That is the best thing I’ve ever seen. You do your night routine: you bathe, brush your teeth and hair and put on your tunic. You pull the covers from the bed and get cozy. The house turns off the lights and the curtains are open, letting through the shine of the city and the stars. During the day it’s easier to ignore the ever growing helplessness. It feels like you’re drowning in it. Trapped in a glass coffin in between space and time. You feel your throat get tighter and your chest feels hollow and- Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Count the stars, do something. Your mind screams. One, two, three, four, this isn’t working. You get an idea. Getting out of bed and walking towards your bag you pull out your phone. You haven’t used it since… well, since everything. It should be charged. Your heart skips when the screen lights up and you scroll to your photos as quickly as you can. Forty-five percent. You see a picture of your dog that your mom had sent you on your last day on Earth and tears well up. It hurts but it brings you comfort to know that they have each other. Committing the picture to memory, you shut it off and get in bed again. They have each other. They are not alone. Eventually sleep takes over. Mercifully, you have no dreams.

The house had closed the curtains after you fell asleep. When you woke up to a dark room you almost thought you had slept through an entire day. Sensing you had awoken, the curtains flew open and you see the sun above the city. It looks like it’s still early. You put on your dress and go have breakfast in the dining room. Azriel is the only one there. “Good morning” he greets. You fiddle with your dress, suddenly aware of the dirt that’s staining the hem and the way it falls off your shoulder. “Good morning”.

[imaginestuffs]

Eternity- Fred Weasley x Lupin! Reader

word count:1696

warnings: fluff, if there's anything else please let me know.

summary: One moment in eternity for Fred and the Reader.

(gif not mine!)

The day had been a long one, but not in a bad way. It was in the best way possible, spent with friends, and Fred, drinking butterbeer and wandering a little too close to the shrieking shack. Snow was falling, and the moon was a beautiful crescent in the sky. Knowing that your father was safe and sound at home most likely reading with a cup of tea beside him was always a nice thought. It all felt right. Things felt like they would be ok, it felt like there was nothing that could go wrong despite the war that you were soon to face. 

You were soon to head home for the holidays and it always excited you knowing that you would be with your father on Christmas morning, and your boyfriend on New Year's. You smiled and laughed as Fred and George made jokes and tossed around old stories with Lee in the common room. You could barely pay attention as you gazed so lovingly at the redhead beside you, his smile something to behold and his laugh as contagious as ever. You instinctively leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. He stopped talking and looked over at you with a smile on his face. 

“And what was that for?” he asked. “Just because,” you said and your smile brightened as he tucked you into his side even further. He looked down at you and gently nudged your chin up so he could place a kiss on your lips. You let your hand move to rest on his cheek, and his encircled your wrist keeping you where you were.  All the noise of George and Lee bickering was muffled, as you kissed Fred. It felt like nothing was real except for the person in front of you, you’d be lying if you didn’t say that you wanted it to last a lifetime. 

He pulled away from you and before he could get too far you placed one last peck on his lips. He didn’t have his usual smirk or smug grin, he had a genuine smile on his face as he looked at you. 

“And what was that for?” you bit your lip trying to hide a smile. “Just because,” he said and kissed your forehead before turning back to his friends. 

You sat there for a while longer before deciding that you would go up to your dorm and read for a while, maybe even write to your father before you left for home the next week. 

“I’ll be in my dorm if you need me alright my love?” you told Fred as you began to stand up. He looked over at you with slight confusion, “Why? Are you alright?” he asked and you nodded with a reassuring smile. “I’m just going to go read and write a letter to my dad. You know you can come up anytime, everyone’s out for the evening,” you told him and stood up fully before placing a kiss on his head. Seeing as it was later into the night you bid everyone goodnight before heading up to your dorm. 

As soon as you started up the stairs your mind wandered, you thought of how long you had left at the castle. You and the boys were getting older and you knew Fred and George wanted to open a joke shop. Yet you still had no idea what you would do, you had always been set on being an Auror, but lately, you had been questioning that choice. Something just seemed different, you wanted to be close to Fred, you wanted to spend your days and nights with him. You wanted to be near him because you love him but in the back of your mind you knew there was another reason you couldn’t pinpoint. 

You opened your door and stepped inside, immediately making yourself comfortable. Changing out of your coat, sweater, and jeans and into one of many shirts you had stolen from your boyfriend, along with a pair of pajama shorts. You sat at your desk and got started on your letter. 

Dear Father, 

I know for a fact that you hate when I call you Father so I wittingly decided to begin the letter by calling you just that. I truly miss you, I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen you last, though it’s only been months. The moon is a crescent tonight, and it warms my heart to know that you’re safe. I’m more than excited to come home for Christmas, I’ve got loads to tell you that I can’t through a silly little letter. I just know you’ll laugh and roll your eyes at what the twins have gotten up to this year.  

You know, we went into Hogsmeade for the day and I got you something that I hope you’ll love. I won’t give any hints, but I also have one more gift for you and I do hope you’ll enjoy it. I also must have you know that I do expect pancakes on Christmas morning the ones with whipped cream and yes, the sprinkles. I know I may be too old for them now, but when I was little I remember you promised them to me every year for as long as forever would allow. Speaking of forever, I am very sure that I am more in love than anyone has ever been in the history of the world. Dad, I’m so very happy, and I wish on every eyelash, dandelion, and birthday candle that it will last forever. Do you think it will? 

I love you very much. 

All my love always, 

(y/n) 

You finished your letter and sighed happily quickly drawing a heart next to your name as you always do. You sealed the letter and gave it to your owl, opening the window and curtly sending her on her way. You closed the window once more and grabbed the book that you had gotten whilst on a trip to London. It was a book called Pride and Prejudice, it was in your opinion one of the best love stories ever written. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were the perfect match, despite some tribulations throughout their story. 

The story of love and class is so easily captivating, you got lost almost immediately despite it being the second time you’ve read it. You sit curled up on your bed, your nose buried in the pages. You didn’t truly notice, that someone had entered the room until you felt the bed dip at their weight. Your eyes glance up and over the book to see your favorite person. Fred sat on the edge of the bed with a smile on his face. 

“Did you know that reading actually decreases my love for you?” he jokingly prodded at you. You rolled your eyes, “Sure it does, you love it when I read to you,” you smiled and let out a soft laugh.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked. “Very,” you said with a smug smile. 

Before you could say anything else, he took the book from your hands and began reading it out loud. He started from the very beginning. 

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. 

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of someone or other of their daughters.” He read. You chuckled at his reading and his confused face. 

“What are you reading?” he asked. “It’s Pride and Prejudice. It’s a love story,” you told him. He looked at you with a raised brow. “Oh really? Is it now?” he questioned and began to flip through the pages. “Do you think it’s better than ours?” he asked and your gaze softened at his question. 

“Nowhere near,” you answered and he looked up at you with a bright smile. 

“That’s what I thought,” he said and you chuckled. 

You got up from your spot on the bed and walked over to meet him. He looked down at you with a grin, and you gazed up at him with starry eyes. You reached up to take the book from his hand, and he let you. You marked your page and set it on your bed. 

You stretch your arms up and around his neck, while his closed around your waist bringing you closer to him. You pulled him down so that you could press a kiss on his lips. The kiss was soft and sweet, it wasn’t bold and passionate. It was everything you needed at that moment, it was a side of him he rarely ever showed but when he did, it was with you. Gentle, calm, sweet, and mind-numbingly precious. 

You softly pulled away to breathe and before you could get too far he pulled you back in softly kissing you over and again. An I love you between each of the three kisses. You knew he was a romantic at heart, and it made your heart warm up each time he showed it. 

“If I were to give you a kiss for every lifetime I’ll love you, then I’d be kissing you for eternity,” he spoke softly against your lips. A huge smile broke out on your lips and you felt your eyes water. Tears threatening to fall down your rosy cheeks. “An eternity huh?” you breathed out shakily. “More than likely a few,” he spoke and you felt the teardrops run down your face. “I love you, Fred, more than anything,” you told him as your hands moved to his cheeks. He gently moved his hands so that he could wipe your tears away. He pulled away slightly so he could look at you, his gaze was filled with love, and you knew yours was too. 

“You can cry, love.  We have enough time to make up for it don’t we?” he asked and you just nodded your head. “Yeah, we do,” 

[bigassmoonchild]

Can you pleaseee do a soap fic where a slightly bitchy short girl transfers to the task force as a sergeant or like a higher up to soap and he instantly starts flirting with him to which he instantly fires back by insulting him and adding something flirty at the end like a wink.

(a/n: i don’t usually read for soap, but i’m more than happy to write it! could be ooc, but i don’t think it’s too bad)

‘this is your stand-in lieutenant, at least until ghost is cleared to return’ price had told them. when he saw you, soap couldn’t take his eyes off of you. beautiful, anyone on base could see it, and they definitely saw it.

the first time soap interacted with you, it hadn’t been too pleasant of a conversation (for him). ‘where ye keepin’ the rest of you?’ he’d teased, flashing you a smile. you stared him down, rolling your eyes before answering shortly.

‘up your ass,’ and you walked away. soap wasn’t sure if you were just prickly because of a new team, or if that’s just how you were.

even the other people and recruits on base could see it, you were more talkative than ghost but just as mean at times. you stared through people when they made dumb comments or snapped back at them shortly.

‘you don’t kiss your mother with that mouth, do you?’ he’d asked once. ‘you could kiss me with it, though,’

‘i’d rather kiss the pavement,’

through all of it, he’d never seen you pull rank, though, and he thought that was commendable. you were going to fight through the military without pulling rank on anyone.

‘i’m not listening to you,’ a recruit snapped at you once. you turned to look at him, eyeing him down.

‘i’ve seen children with better manners, so go throw a hissy fit with someone who cares. i don’t.’

and sometimes people would think sparring with you meant a better advantage. soap had learned first hand that you might be short, but you could still kick his ass.

‘jesus, where’d you learn to fight like that?’ he’d asked.

‘from your mother,’

the recruits also learned that the hard way, most of them forgetting you were a lieutenant. the little things, he’d discovered, was what the recruits didn’t catch. like the way you moved when you walked, ready for action. or how your body wasn’t just built that way for the aesthetic, that it was for use.

or the way you’d eye the sky when dawn or dusk began, watching the colors shift every few minutes.

sometimes soap would catch you in the gym, glancing at you while you ran or lifted some of the weights. he’d always give you little comments, and he would enjoy hearing the response.

‘need something else to sweat about?’

‘absolutely not, not with you,’

often, people weren’t sure where you would go on base, disappearing for hours at a time. soap would try to look for you, and the one time he did you’d been as snarky as ever.

‘been looking all over the compound for you,’ he was genuinely worried for a moment there. ‘thought you might’ve made a run for it,’ and he could almost feel the eye roll you gave him.

you turned your head to get a view of him, brows raised. ‘and i thought i could get some quiet up here,’ you answered. you looked him up and down shortly, swallowing and turning your head back to where it had been. ‘you missed me enough to come lookin?’

without being able to see your face, he couldn’t entirely read your tone. he sat slightly behind you, glancing out at the forest just ahead.

‘pretty view,’ soap mentioned and you turned to look at him.

‘i’m looking at a better view,’ and you sent him a wink.

[quietwingsinthesky]

For the film ask: the doctor who tv movie

never seen | want to see | the worst | bad | whatever | not my thing | good | great | favorite | masterpiece

It’s the best movie I’ve ever seen. This movie has everything. the Doctor dies 5 minutes in by Gun. Paul McGann from Amazon. The Master butching it up. The Doctor’s Body. an atomic cock- i mean clock. grace <3 weirdest night of Lee’s life but at least he got paid for enduring The Horrors™️ THE TARDIS AT HER MOST GORGEOUS AND HOMEY AND I WANT TO EAT THE FUCKING SET. halfway through the doctor threatens to kill himself for funsies <- unclear what his plan was here. jesus allegory. babygirl moments prancing in a field. i’ve been told that None of the lore is correct 🥰

genuinely, though, it’s a movie that i can see. Has Problems. but its so. its so beautiful. there is so much happening and it all works somehow. is it consistent with fucking anything else in doctor who? No <3 but it works. sometimes all you need is paul mcgann bouncing around on your screen. no wonder they gave him 9 million audios and books afterwards. all i have rn is the movie and still he compels me.

[fromkenari]

Waterloo Letters #4 (4/4): Hometown stuff

Re: Hometown stuff A agcd@eclare45.com                9/4/20 8:31 PM to Henry H, Fuck. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m so sorry. June and Nora send their love. Not as much love as me. Obviously. Please don’t worry about me. We’ll figure it out. It just might take time. I’ve been working on patience. I’ve picked up all kinds of things from you. God, what can I possibly write to make this better? Here: I can’t decide if your emails make me miss you more or less. Sometimes I feel like a funny-looking rock in the middle of the most beautiful clear ocean when I read the kinds of things you write to me. You love so much bigger than yourself, bigger than everything. I can’t believe how lucky I am to even witness it—to be the one who gets to have it, and so much of it, is beyond luck and feels like fate. Catholic God made me to be the person you write those things about. I’ll say five Hail Marys. Muchas gracias, Santa Maria. I can’t match you for prose, but what I can do is write you a list. AN INCOMPLETE LIST: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES 1. The sound of your laugh when I piss you off. 2. The way you smell underneath your fancy cologne, like clean linens but somehow also fresh grass (what kind of magic is this?). 3. That thing you do where you stick out your chin to try to look tough. 4. How your hands look when you play piano. 5. All the things I understand about myself now because of you. 6. How you think Return of the Jedi is the best Star Wars (wrong) because deep down you’re a gigantic, sappy, embarrassing romantic who just wants the happily ever after. 7. Your ability to recite Keats. 8. Your ability to recite Bernadette’s “Don’t let it drag you down” monologue from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. 9. How hard you try. 10. How hard you’ve always tried. 11. How determined you are to keep trying. 12. That when your shoulders cover mine, nothing else in the entire stupid world matters. 13. The goddamn issue of Le Monde you brought back to London with you and kept and have on your nightstand (yes, I saw it). 14. The way you look when you first wake up. 15. Your shoulder-to-waist ratio. 16. Your huge, generous, ridiculous, indestructible heart. 17. Your equally huge dick. 18. The face you just made when you read that last one. 19. The way you look when you first wake up (I know I already said this, but I really, really love it). 20. The fact that you loved me all along. I keep thinking about that last one ever since you told me, and what an idiot I was. It’s so hard for me to get out of my own head sometimes, but now I’m coming back to what I said to you the night in my room when it all started, and how I brushed you off when you offered to let me go after the DNC, how I used to try to act like it was nothing sometimes. I didn’t even know what you were offering to do to yourself. God, I want to fight everyone who’s ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn’t it? All that time. I’m so sorry. Please stay gorgeous and strong and unbelievable. I miss you I miss you I miss you I love you. I’m calling you as soon as I send this, but I know you like to have these things written down. A P.S. Richard Wagner to Eliza Wille, re: Ludwig II–1864 (Remember when you played Wagner for me? He’s an asshole, but this is something.) It is true that I have my young king who genuinely adores me. You cannot form an idea of our relations. I recall one of the dreams of my youth. I once dreamed that Shakespeare was alive: that I really saw and spoke to him: I can never forget the impression that dream made on me. Then I would have wished to see Beethoven, though he was already dead. Something of the same kind must pass in the mind of this lovable man when with me. He says he can hardly believe that he really possesses me. None can read without astonishment, without enchantment, the letters he writes to me.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 301-304). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

1 | 2 | 3

[himbodruid]

Forged Hearts

Part 1

Dammon x F!Tav

Named!Tav | Tiefling!Tav

A/N: i’ve wanted to do a DammonxTav fic for a while, but everything with the VA soured the motivation to do much of anything. But i decided to separate him from his character and love Dammon in the way he deserves regardless. Part one takes place at the tiefling party, spice is imminent

18+ MINORS DNI

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57570592

Ch 1: Yet Like Lovers

Naerys inhaled the scents in the night air. The bonfire, alcohol, and general revelry was tainted by the undertone of the previous day’s bloodshed. The others seemed capable of ignoring it, but it set her on edge.

Which is why she found herself sitting on an outcropping of rocks at the edge of the creek and watching the stars instead of joining the celebration. The goblin camp was defeated, along with its leaders, but there was still so much more to deal with. Questions left unanswered. Making a face, Naerys lifted the bottle of ithbank to her lips and took a hefty swig.

Before all of this illithid nonsense, she had been a ranger. Making her home in the forest and staying away from the people that otherwise gave her a wide berth because of her indigo skin and devilish horns. Add to that the silvery hair she inherited from her drow father, she may as well have been a pariah. She found solace in nature and being in forced proximity to others that shared her brain worm ailment took some getting used to. But she grew fond of her companions…except for when they annoyed her with their own issues against each other.

Finding a druid’s grove housing tiefling refugees had been a surprise. She’d heard of Elturel’s fall to Avernus whispered in the winds, but she didn’t expect to find anyone surviving that fall. They also seemed to be free of the parasite that infected the mishmash of unlikely companions. Lucky them.

Her tail flicked in ironic amusement as she let loose a dry chuckle. Another swig of wine to add to her mirthless humour. Things could be worse, she supposed. She could be a mindflayer as Nettie suggested. She could also be dead, especially if that first arrow she ever took from a goblin had found its home in her heart instead of her shoulder.

That memory brought out a genuine chuckle from her. That poor blacksmith fellow, Dammon, being subjected to the litany of curses that flowed from her as her companions pried the broken shaft from her chest right on the steps to his forge. He was a fine man, dedicated to his craft. Kind hearted, as well, even after everything he’s been through. Naerys would never forget the way he jumped at the chance to help Karlach with her engine. How those beautiful eyes glowed with excitement at operating on infernal machinery again. How those deft fingers of his worked the metal into submission. The rippling muscles as he-

Naerys cleared her throat and took another long drag from the wine, embarrassed even though nobody was around. Maybe it was the sexual tension permeating the air from all of the party folk sneaking off to their trysts for the night, but her line of thinking was dangerous. She didn’t want to get involved, or at least that’s what she told herself.

Truth of the matter was…she hadn’t been held by a man in entirely too long. So many years that she had lost count, but she only had herself to blame really. The forest had been her chosen companion for most of that time. But, hells, she would be lying if she said she didn’t find that damned blacksmith enticing.

She imagined that under that apron and shirt, he had lithe muscle from a life of hard work with a hammer. His shoulders were broad and lead to a tapered waist. A strong jaw, bright eyes that practically glowed. Eyes that sent a shiver through her every time they alighted on her. Eyes that softened when he saw her and her companions approaching his forge. Eyes that seemed to bore into her very soul.

Ugh.

Naerys shivered. It’s definitely been too long, and she had to admit that maybe she was a bit touch-starved. Maybe she could…no. She wouldn’t know the first thing about propositioning for a fling, and rejection would be more than mortifying. She-

“Here I was, bringing you a drink, but I see you’ve already got plenty. Shame,” came a voice from the darkness. A voice she was fairly familiar with now after weeks of purchasing his wares. Forged from the heart- the phrase from him she would never be able to forget.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the rest of your camp?” The words felt too abrasive so she tried softening them with a smile.

Dammon smirked back at her and sat beside her on the rocks. He produced a bottle of fireswill and two tin cups. He set the cups down to uncork the bottle, but before he could pour it out, Naerys took the bottle from him. It burned on the way down in a way she didn’t realize she was missing from the wine. Dammon chuckled and took the bottle from her when she offered it back to him. After a drink of his own, those damnably beautiful eyes settled on her.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the rest of your camp?” His repeat of her question let loose a surprise burst of laughter from her.

“Touche,” she replied with a chuckle, leaning back on an arm and looking back at the sky. She could feel his gaze still on her, and she was grateful for the darkness that would help hide the staining of a blush on her cheeks. If he mentioned it, though, she could blame the alcohol.

“It’s a beautiful night, shame to spend it alone,” he murmured.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’ve come along, though I'm not sure I would be considered good company,” she said, casting him a sideways glance.

“You dont hear any complaints from me, do you?”

“Not yet,” she replied.

“Why are you up here alone?”

“I’m not much for celebrations personally. They make me feel…claustrophobic? I don’t know. I’ve spent so much time alone that i’m not used to crowds anymore.”

She was blabbering but she found she couldn’t stop. She was going to blame her loose tongue on the alcohol too.

“We have that in common, then. I suppose I will have to get used to crowds when we make it to the city, though.”

“Do they even allow our kind there?” She scrunched her nose as she asked the question. Even in her small village, tieflings like herself were considered curses upon the families that birthed them.

“They do, as far as I know. Rolan at least has work to look forward to when we get there, as that one wizard’s apprentice.” Dammon took up the fireswill again and threw back another gulp of it.

“And what about you? You’re already an accomplished blacksmith, I’m sure folks far and wide would line up at your door for your wares,” she said, taking the bottle from him. He chuckled, such a warm rich tone that made her shiver. This sent a small stream of the fireswill dribbling down her chin. She shifted the bottle from her face to catch it before it could stain her tunic.

But then he was there. Dammon had leaned towards her, his hand coming up to deftly catch the rivulet. And then, hells, and then his mouth followed after, his tongue snaking out to capture the spilled rum. Her breath hitched and her body froze. Surely that didnt mean…

“Oh. Oh gods, I-I am so sorry,” Dammon stammered when he pulled back and realized what he had done. An adorable blush spread across his cheeks and his eyes were wide with horrified embarrassment.

Naerys silenced him by pressing her lips against his. Her body shuddered when Dammon’s hands reached up to cup her face. It was a wonder that such rough, hardworking hands could provide such a soft and tender touch. But Naerys wasn’t sure she wanted soft and tender, not right now, not when death was at every possible corner.

She pressed hard into him, coaxing his mouth open so she could plunge her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his. Dammon growled in response, and hauled her to him so that she straddled his lap. The soft fuzzy feel of his undercut came as a surprise to Naerys when she trailed her hands up. Gods, then he scraped his teeth down the column of her throat, and she couldn’t help but throw her head back. With free access, he bit gently into the soft flesh of the slope of her neck. The moan that burst free from her was full of need and her hips ground against him almost of their own volition. He growled again, his grip on her tightening as his own hips tilted up to meet hers. The thick length of him growing hard under her drilled a primal need into her.

“Dammon,” she whimpered, grinding against him again. He muttered a curse in infernal at the desperation in her tone. One hand came to rest on her hip, while the other tugged at the collar of her tunic to bare her shoulder and the upper swell of her breast to his exploring mouth. Meanwhile, her own hands worked at the laces that loosely tied the collar of his tunic closed. Once she was sure the opening was enough to clear the tapered spikes of his horns, she all but ripped the fabric from him.

She knew that he had to have a certain level of strength for his profession, but hells, she was unprepared for the sheer powerful cut of his figure. His body may as well be forged from the very steel he manipulates with those rough hands of his. The infernal ridges of his heritage added to his sculpted beauty and Naerys knew she would never see a more stunning man. She leaned into him, her tongue tracing those devil lines along his chest. A chest that rumbled in approval beneath her touch, the sound turning near feral when her hand reached down between them to cup his length through his linen trousers.

In a sudden rush of motion, Naerys found herself on her back, her tunic tossed aside and the cool stone below her pebbling her nipples. Her legs were still hooked around his hips. He knelt there, eyes hooded with desire as they trailed along her own infernal ridges.

She lifted her arms above her head and arched her back to push her breasts up. “Like what you see, blacksmith?”

His nostrils flared and he fell upon her. Mouths clashed, tails thrashed. Before either of them knew it, their bodies moved together without the restrictions of clothing. The ridged length of his cock slid against her clit, eliciting a breathy moan from her.

“Dammon,” she whined as the head of him just barely slid into her folds. She tilted her hips upwards in an effort to take him in further, but he denied her.

“Say it again,” he growled against her skin.

“Dammon,” she said again, and he slammed into her with a harsh growl. Hells, how well he filled her.

“Again.” His voice was rough and ragged in barely restrained ardor.

“Dammon.” Her voice came out as a gasp as his hips rolled back, only to slam forward again. Any control he may have disillusioned himself to have evaporated the moment her nails dug into his back, and her thighs clenched around his waist. Over and over he thrust into her, the ridges adorning his cock catching against her inner walls and heightening both their pleasure. Their voices rang out into the night, uncaring of who might hear.

Frenzied. Frantic. Perfect.

They lost themselves to each other, chasing the high of pleasure until Naerys arched into him with a shuddering cry. Her walls gripped at him and he rolled into his climax shortly after her. Deep, so impossibly deep, she milked him for everything he had to give. The intensity of his release sent spasms through him, and his body jerked while she continued to grind herself against him.

“Naerys,” he ground out her name with another guttural growl. Still, her hips worked him into thorough overstimulation until he spilled into her again with a strangled cry. His body jerked and shuddered with his panting cries, and the twitching of him inside her sent her into another trembling climax.

***

The following morning didn’t bring any of the awkwardness that Naerys expected. At least not between Dammon and herself.

The pair had snuck back into camp as the sky began to lighten in the earliest hours of the morn, where they had more forays in her tent- these much quieter but not any less frenzied. She awoke to her head resting on his chest and his hand trailing circles on her shoulder. Warmth bloomed in her chest, as she fully expected him to have slipped back to his own camp sometime in the night.

She lifted her head and met his lips with hers in a much gentler kiss than the ones shared the previous night. When she sat up, she could feel that her body was sore in all the right ways. He sat up beside her and rested his forehead against hers. Outside the tent came the sounds of the refugees making final preparations before departure. Excitement permeated the air, but the pair exchanged a solemn glance. It felt too soon to let go of whatever this was, but Naerys knew better than to form attachments, anyway. It always ended badly in her world.

They dressed, sharing touches and kisses as they went, and left her tent. Naerys pointedly ignored the waggling eyebrows and knowing grins of her companions when they saw the blacksmith sauntering away to gather the last of his belongings. No questions were asked over breakfast, to which Naerys was eternally grateful. The group packed up their own camp and then headed into the grove to lend aid wherever it was needed.

With the wagons lined up, it was time to send the refugees on their way. Naerys and her companions made their goodbyes to the new friends they made, with promises of reuniting in the city.

“Find me in Baldur’s Gate,” Dammon murmured to her, tilting her chin up to kiss her. So terribly sweet, and in broad view of anyone that cared to look. He knew the companion’s work in the valley wasn’t done, and he knew better than to beg her to go with him. If it was meant to be, their paths would cross again.

But they would always remember what they shared together the previous night.

[thecasualfkfan]

As the Red,White and Royal Blue movie is released,here's an email from the book which I really really love-

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A <agcd@eclare45.com>

9/4/20 8:31 PM

to Henry

H,

Fuck.

I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m so sorry. June and Nora send their love. Not as much love as me. Obviously.

Please don’t worry about me. We’ll figure it out. It just might take time. I’ve been working on patience. I’ve picked up all kinds of things from you.

God, what can I possibly write to make this better?

Here: I can’t decide if your emails make me miss you more or less. Sometimes I feel like a funny-looking rock in the middle of the most beautiful clear ocean when I read the kinds of things you write to me. You love so much bigger than yourself, bigger than everything. I can’t believe how lucky I am to even witness it—to be the one who gets to have it, and so much of it, is beyond luck and feels like fate. Catholic God made me to be the person you write those things about. I’ll say five Hail Marys. Muchas gracias, Santa Maria.

I can’t match you for prose, but what I can do is write you a list.

AN INCOMPLETE LIST: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES

1. The sound of your laugh when I piss you off.

2. The way you smell underneath your fancy cologne, like clean linens but somehow also fresh grass (what kind of magic is this?).

3. That thing you do where you stick out your chin to try to look tough.

4. How your hands look when you play piano.

5. All the things I understand about myself now because of you.

6. How you think Return of the Jedi is the best Star Wars (wrong) because deep down you’re a gigantic, sappy, embarrassing romantic who just wants the happily ever after.

7. Your ability to recite Keats.

8. Your ability to recite Bernadette’s “Don’t let it drag you down” monologue from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

9. How hard you try.

10. How hard you’ve always tried.

11. How determined you are to keep trying.

12. That when your shoulders cover mine, nothing else in the entire stupid world matters.

13. The goddamn issue of Le Monde you brought back to London with you and kept and have on your nightstand (yes, I saw it).

14. The way you look when you first wake up.

15. Your shoulder-to-waist ratio.

16. Your huge, generous, ridiculous, indestructible heart.

17. Your equally huge dick.

18. The face you just made when you read that last one.

19. The way you look when you first wake up (I know I already said this, but I really, really love it).

20. The fact that you loved me all along.

I keep thinking about that last one ever since you told me, and what an idiot I was. It’s so hard for me to get out of my own head sometimes, but now I’m coming back to what I said to you the night in my room when it all started, and how I brushed you off when you offered to let me go after the DNC, how I used to try to act like it was nothing sometimes. I didn’t even know what you were offering to do to yourself. God, I want to fight everyone who’s ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn’t it? All that time. I’m so sorry.

Please stay gorgeous and strong and unbelievable. I miss you I miss you I miss you I love you. I’m calling you as soon as I send this, but I know you like to have these things written down.

A

P.S. Richard Wagner to Eliza Wille, re:

Ludwig II–1864 (Remember when you played Wagner for me? He’s an asshole, but this is something.)

It is true that I have my young king who genuinely adores me. You cannot form an idea of our relations. I recall one of the dreams of my youth. I once dreamed that Shakespeare was alive: that I really saw and spoke to him: I can never forget the impression that dream made on me. Then I would have wished to see Beethoven, though he was already dead. Something of the same kind must pass in the mind of this lovable man when with me. He says he can hardly believe that he really possesses me. None can read without astonishment, without enchantment, the letters he writes to me.

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- Ch 11, Red white and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston