#he calls himself the best because he's extremely self aware

[kinderedgeisc00t]

Not quite what I intended to start as my latest art post, but I might as well start off with the most cringiest thing ever.

If you know, you know.

[babydollmarauders]

SECOND (TO NONE) — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n has spent most of her life loving Jack, only to always come up second to her sister

notes: can you tell i love Little Women? with that being said, i was extremely inspired by THE Laurie and Amy scene in Little Women (2019), therefore, one portion of dialogue in this fic is not my own but instead borrowed from the scene and all credits for that go to Greta Gerwig. (5.3k words)

it started on september 20th, 2017.

how pathetic is that? i remember the exact date that my sister brought home the boy i would fawn over for the rest of my days.

i remember it clear as day, though most of it could be from the long-held sisterly grudge of my sister telling me to take the bus home; she was waiting for a friend and didn’t want me ‘bugging’ them.

at the time, i figured it was one of her girl friends. but merely a few hours later, i would meet Jack Hughes.

that day would be the wrecking ball for the next six years of my life. day in and day out, from the ages of fifteen to twenty-one, if you were to ask me what i was thinking of, or rather who, the answer would always be Jack.

i spent years of my life wasting away in the agony of unrequited love. because while i was pining over him, he was pining over her.

*** May 6th, 2018 ***

my shirt sticks to my chest, raindrops drenching my clothing and my shoes thoroughly soaked from deep puddles. laughing as i reach the front porch, i glance behind me in await of my best friend.

“Spencer, you’re getting soaked!” i state, though i’m sure he’s extremely aware of his own status.

“it’s just water, y/n. it’s not hurting anyone.” i roll my eyes, Spencer’s natural poetic demeanor incredibly unsettling for a seventeen year old boy.

as he meets me on the porch, my hand finds the front doorknob, slinging open the door and stepping into the warm air. my clothes drip onto the entrance rug, Spencer pushing me aside in order to step in and shut the door behind us.

“mom! we’re home!” my voice echoes throughout the house as i slip my wet sandals off, dropping my shopping bags on the entryway table, Spencer following suit.

“she’s not home! she’s having lunch with Ellen!” my sister’s voice calls back, drifting towards me from the living room.

wandering down the hallway towards the living area, i peel Spencer’s US National Development Program sweatshirt over my head, my cream colored shirt rising slightly as it sticks to the wet hoodie.

“you’ll never guess who Spence and i saw at the-” my words fail me as i reach the living room, my sister sat on the couch beside her own best friend.

all too quickly, i’m suddenly self-conscious about my appearance. finding insecurity in the way my hair has frizzed up from the humidity of the day, and the way my saturated clothes stick to my body as though covered in honey.

nestled into Jack’s side, Sara raises an eyebrow towards me, her expression silently ordering me to leave; a stark contrast to that of her close friend, who smiles warmly towards me.

“hey, bug.” Jack grins, his arm slung around my sister’s shoulder and effectively stinging my soul. “sup, Spence?”

my best friend smiles at his teammate, ignoring Sara’s deadly stare and making himself at home on the gray couch.

“hey, Hughesy.” Spencer gives a nod of acknowledgment, “hey, malibu barbie.”

“i have a name, Knight.” Sara hisses, her nose scrunching in disgust towards my friend. “you’re getting the couch wet.”

“mhm.” Spencer mindlessly hums, turning his head to look back at my still motionless figure, “you coming, y/n/n?”

nodding, i join the three of them on the ‘L’ shaped couch.

“hi, Jack.” i can feel my face flush already, blood rising to my cheeks; the most traitorous display of my feelings.

but Jack just smiles, “how was the mall? crowded?”

“no, actually pretty empty for a weekend.” i reply, my voice meek.

Spencer cuts in, sending me an obnoxious and horribly hidden smirk, “should’ve come, Hughesy. you could’ve kept me company while this one tried on all her new pretty clothes.”

if this was my friend’s attempt at helping me, it sure was a sucky one. Sara’s eyes bounce between Jack, Spencer, and, i before she rolls them, announcing her departure to the bathroom. pushing off the couch, she knocks Jack’s arm off of her shoulders, his smile dropping just slightly as she leaves the room.

“kinda wanted to go.” Jack clears his throat, “but Sara wasn’t feeling it.”

now it’s Spencer’s turn to roll his eyes, nodding his head in understanding, “ah yes, and what Sara wants, Sara gets.”

if this were any other context, the months-long feud between my sister and my best friend would be amusing me in the highest degree; but in the moment, all i can feel is the nausea that bubbles up as Jack’s cheeks twinge pink at his teammates teasing.

“shut up, Spence.” he mutters, eyes flickering back towards me, slightly widened as if he just remembered i was there, “maybe you should do a fashion show for us, bug. Sara’s told me you used to do them for her when you get new clothes, let us see ‘em!”

the cadence in which he speaks, though i know it’s not his intention, makes me feel small. like i’m a child and not only one year younger than him. and yet, the idea that he wants to see me model all of my new clothes makes my heart flutter in my chest; nearly pounding against the bars of the cage i keep it in, wanting nothing more than for me to confess my feelings right then and there on the fabric couch of my living room, a rom-com, annoyingly fitting of the moment, paused on the tv, and my best friend sat right beside me.

“she told you that?”

“yeah,” his brows furrow, “she tells me plenty of stories of when you guys were younger. i love that she loves you.”

right. this is about her, not me.

i smile halfheartedly as Sara walks back into the room, taking her place back on the couch and underneath Jack’s arm.

for a moment, i wonder if he would still be so smitten if he knew that she doesn’t look at him the way that i do… the way that he looks at her. if he would still pine after her and bend to her will if he knew that she had been going on dates with one of the boys on the soccer team, and that she looked at him with stars in her eyes, the same way Jack looks at her. if he would still look past me, still think of me as nothing more than Sara’s little sister, if he knew she had no intentions to ever make something more of their friendship.

would he move on from her? look for someone else to give his affection to? and would i be wildly insane to wonder if it would be me?

“i actually think i’ll pass,” i finally speak again, a lovelorn quirk to my lips, “don’t want Sara getting any ideas to steal any of my new clothes.”

my sister laughs, eyes twinkling as she winks at me, “i’ll see them next time i go shopping in your closet, don’t worry.”

a small flash of disappointment shines through in Jack’s beautiful blue eyes before he nods, “alright, maybe next time.”

*** January 8th, 2023 ***

“Jack!” my voice carries over the noise of a crowded shoe store in New York City, pushing my way through the people as i watch Jack’s head whip around in confusion. “Jack!”

his eyes scan the store, only landing upon me once i’ve finally made my way through the gaggle of people, now a mere few feet from him.

a bright grin spreads across his face, eyes twinkling, “bug!”

his laugh permeates my ears as i launch myself at him, arms latching around his shoulders and making him teeter in place before finding his core balance, his arms spindling around my waist.

“what are you doing here?” he questions as we pull away, his hands still resting on my waist.

“in a shoe store, or in New York?”

“New York, obviously.” he chuckles.

“girls trip! we were bored out of our minds and decided to spend a couple weeks here.” i explain, craning my neck to see if i can spot my friends in the hectic store.

“we?” he repeats, “is…”

my smile dims at his forlorn yet hopeful expression, shaking my head, “oh, no. she’s not here.”

“i came with some friends.” i tell him and he nods, letting out a seemingly relieved breath. “i’m sorry again, Jack. i can’t believe she-”

“let’s not.” he interjects, “if that’s okay? i’d rather not talk about it.”

i agree, my sisters final rejection of him being the last thing on the list of topics i’d like to discuss with my unrequited teenage love.

“who’s this?” someone cuts in, a hand slapping down on Jack’s shoulder. the new guest has a heavy accent, a neat scruff adorning his face… he’s cute.

“oh, Neeks, this is bug, or sorry, y/n.” Jack’s hands drop from my waist, a long-familiar shiver running through me at the loss of his touch. turning partly towards his friend, Jack’s face brightens again. “y/n, this is my captain, Nico.”

“y/n,” Nico parrots, “you’re Sara’s sister, right?”

it takes everything in me not to cringe, having worked so hard to make myself into my own person now; no longer used to being known as ‘Sara’s sister’ like i was in school.

“yeah.” i sigh, nodding my head, “that’s me.”

i should’ve known better than to think i could be my own person when it comes to Jack. that i could be someone more than the girl who used to follow he and my sister around everywhere.

even with Jack’s new friends, ones that have no connection to me or Sara, i’m still just the little sister of the girl who broke his heart.

“she’s not just Sara’s sister.” Jack tells his captain. he slings an arm around my shoulder, that once disappeared flutter reappearing in my chest, “this girl is the best friend of Spencer Knight and Cole Caufield. she used to go everywhere with us.”

and just like that, the flutter is gone, died out in a sudden burst of flames.

Jack looks down at me, “have you spoken to them recently?”

“yeah.” i force a smile. “i speak to them almost every day.”

“sorry to cut the reunion short, but Jack, we have to go soon.” Nico speaks, gaining Jack’s attention again, “it was nice to meet you, y/n. hopefully i’ll see you again.”

Jack backs away, looking at me again, “text me! you should come to the lake house this summer!”

*** June 20th, 2024 ***

last summer, i spent two weeks of July at the Hughes lake house; my days filled by boating, tanning, and golfing; my nights consisting of bonfires and bars.

it was nice, being surrounded by people i’ve known since high school. i had even convinced Spencer to join me on the trip, though he ended up staying longer than i did.

i felt like those two weeks really helped me solidify myself as more than just ‘Sara’s sister’ to the guys, which provided me with a sense of closure with Jack.

no longer was my mind plagued of thoughts about him anymore. my nights no longer accompanied by dreams of the sweet, blue-eyed boy that i so desperately loved in high school. i felt free.

for the first time since i met him, i was able to date without holding out an unrealistic hope that he would randomly tell me he loved me back.

not long after returning home from the lake house, i met Ryan; a lawyer who knew nothing about the hockey world, which i felt was exactly what i needed.

he asked me out and for once in my life, i was able to say yes without feeling guilty. without feeling like somehow i was cheating on my unrequited love. i was finally able to move on from high school love, for the most part.

on our first few dates, i opened up to Ryan; i told him all about how inexperienced i really was with the dating scene and exactly why. i told him about my six years of unreturned love for my sisters ex-best friend. i told him that i was still friends with him but that i felt that love was in the past. and he was okay with it, he was understanding and sincere and he wanted to be the one i moved on with.

within a few months, i was moved in with Ryan, and now here we are, only a month short of our one year anniversary.

only an hour ago, i arrived to the lake house for the second summer in a row. this time, for a full month of relaxation and catching up with friends. Ryan would meet me here for the last week of my month, it not being quite as easy for him to get away from work as it is for me, and i can’t wait to introduce him to the friends who made high school so easy for me.

**

“y/n!” my peaceful tanning takes a turn when most of the guys arrive back from the grocery store, Trevor appearing to be the most excited to see me.

my eyelids peel open, hand rising to flick my sunglasses to the top of my head as i look over at the hyper hockey player, “hi, Trev.”

his hands slip into mine, helping me up from the lounge chair in order to sweep me into a tight hug.

“how’s life been?” he grins, pulling back and slinging his arm around my shoulder as he guides us into the house.

i can hear the ruckus of rowdy boys from outside, though that’s not at all shocking, in my experience.

“it’s been great.” my mind flickers to my boyfriend, the one who texted me merely thirty minutes ago to make sure i made it here safe, promising to call me when he gets his lunch break, “really great.”

at my pink cheeks and surely dopey smile, Trevor guffaws, pinching my cheek as we step into the house, “did our little bug get a boyfriend?!”

the house goes silent, Trevor’s voice bouncing off the walls and echoing through the downstairs.

“i’m not little.” i mumble, effectively embarrassed by the overwhelming reaction to the news, “i’m only a year younger than you.”

Cole and Spencer are the only two who already knew of the progression in my dating life, being the two people i talk to the most.

“you have a boyfriend?” a voice chimes from my left, and i look over to find Jack, his face soft and his hands full of grocery bags.

i bite back a smile, suddenly feeling hot under all their gazes. nodding, i speak again, “yeah, his name is Ryan. he’s the plus-one i asked about.”

“he’s here?!” Trevor shouts in exasperation.

i giggle, shaking my head at the way the guys all start looking around, all but Jack, “no! he’s coming in a few weeks! he can’t get off work so easily.”

Trevor drags me to the couch, Jack’s eyes following me as he sets the groceries on the table, slowly dragging his feet behind everyone towards the living room.

“what does he do?” “how old is he?” “is he treating you right?” “is he a hockey fan?” “is he hot?”

my brows furrow at the last question thrown at me, looking at Alex in bewilderment, “what? i feel like it’s a good question.”

a hearty laugh drops from my lips, lowering myself to the couch in preparation to answer their many questions.

“he’s a lawyer, he’s twenty-nine, he treats me amazingly, he’s not a hockey fan, and i think he’s pretty hot.”

a collective gasp is heard around the room, my friends looking at me in utter disbelief, “he’s not a hockey fan?”

Cole shudders, as if the idea is the worst thing possible, “you left that out.”

“i couldn’t have you hating on him!” i shout in defense. my eyes scan the room of guys, finally landing on Jack, who stands in the entrance of the room, his hands in his pockets and his lips downturned.

“is that really what you guys are focusing on?” he scoffs and my eyebrows pinch in confusion at his sour mood, “he’s seven years older than her, and you guys are more worried about the fact that he doesn’t like hockey?”

a small part of me feels like a teenager again, honored that he’s so worried about me, but a much larger part of me is offended for both me and my boyfriend.

“i’m an adult, Jack. i can make my own decisions and i’m very aware of Ryan and i’s age gap, but if i’m not uncomfortable with it then why should you be?”

Jack raises a brow at my spiteful tone, clearly not used to having it used on him, “i’ve known you for nearly seven years, bug. i’m just looking out for you.”

“well don’t,” i sneer, “i didn’t ask for you to look out for me. it’s not your job.”

the other boys squirm amidst the tension between Jack and i, Quinn the first to speak up again.

“so, how serious are you guys?”

Quinn’s question gathers my attention again, butterflies swarming in my stomach as i remember a moment just a couple weeks ago.

“i think he’s gonna propose soon.” i confess, my face burning as Spencer lets out an ‘ooooh!’

“i found a ring in his nightstand drawer a few weeks ago, i think he might do it on our anniversary.”

Cole reacts first, pulling me in for a hug as the others cheer out a premature ‘congratulations’, only one member of the group staying silent. but when i look back at the living room entrance, Jack is gone.

“i think this calls for some boating!” Trevor sings out, already jumping up from his seat to go get changed.

“you just want an excuse to go out on the boat!” Luke yells, Trevor nodding in agreement as he disappears up the stairs.

**

after an entire week of boating, wakesurfing, and golfing, we end our sunday night around a bonfire.

orange flames lick at the air, the added heat making the summer night sweltering. yet, most of us can be found sitting around the fire pit, enjoying each other’s company.

“dude, she wasn’t flirting with you.” Cole yells across the blazing fire to Trevor, who’s still convinced the girl he met this afternoon was hitting on him.

“she so was!” Trevor huffs, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

almost everyone rolls their eyes, the rest of us knowing the girl was incredibly uninterested in the hyperactive twenty-three year old.

“y/n, she was flirting with me, right?!” Trevor turns to me, eyes wide in await of my agreement, but it never comes.

scrunching my nose, my head shakes in denial, making him groan.

“the only other girl has spoken… that was not flirting!” Spencer announces, “better luck next time, Z.”

“i don’t think y/n would know flirting if it hit her in the face. she doesn’t count.” Jack laughs, raising his beer up to his lips as he smirks at my offended expression.

“i have a boyfriend! i know what flirting looks like!”

“a soon to be fiancé.” Alex wiggles his eyebrows, shimmying his shoulders in a teasing manner as he stands up, “i’m heading inside, it’s too hot out here.”

a few others mutter in agreement, rising from their chairs and following him into the house, leaving just me, Spencer, and Jack.

i sit in silence, watching the flames as the two boys converse, not yet ready to head inside. instead, i’m pulled off in my own thoughts, my mind twisting as i think of this past week.

i thought Jack and i were fine. he said last summer that he didn’t hold my sisters rejection against me, but now i’m wondering if he was lying. ever since i’ve arrived, he’s been nothing but cold shouldered and a bit bitter towards me.

but the oddest part is that it hurts me more than i’d like it to. it feels like my teenage years all over again, vying for his attention and affections, desperate for him to love me. i thought i was over this unreciprocated love, but now here i am again, my only comfort being the knowledge that Jack doesn’t love me like that, but i have someone back home who does.

Spencer’s lips press to the crown of my head, pulling my head out of my thoughts.

“i’m heading inside.” he tells me, earning a nod of acknowledgment from me as i tell him i’ll probably be in soon.

and then there were two.

Jack and i sit in silence for a while, neither of us daring to break the peace as we admire the fire. i push up from my seat, stepping a bit closer to the fire pit in order to watch the orange burn of the logs.

“don’t marry him.”

my head snaps over to Jack, his eyes now glued to me as my face contorts in confusion.

“what?” i gawk.

“don’t marry him.” he repeats, finally standing from his chair.

“why?”

“why?” he scoffs, “you know why.”

my mind is racing, my heart beating wildly in my chest as i turn to face him completely.

“no.” i shake my head, realization settling deep within the pits of my stomach, “no.”

“yes.” he steps closer, a mere 5 feet from me now, and i instinctively take a step back.

all week he’s been sour towards me and i’ve wondered what it meant, and now i know. he’s upset.

upset with me for finding someone else.

“no. Jack, you’re being mean.” i frown. old feelings rise inside of me, nausea plaguing me as tears spring to my eyes, and Jack closes up the space between us, his hand grasping my arm lightly, “stop it, stop it!”

“what? how am i being mean?” he mumbles, brows threading together as i shake off his touch.

“i have been second to Sara my whole life. in everything!” i cry lightly, “and i will not be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her.”

i step away, slowly backing up towards the house, still facing the man who held my heart for so long, only now wanting me when i’m finally taken.

“i won’t-” i stutter, gasping for breath, “i won’t do it. i won’t. not when i’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

Jack’s lips part as he stands in place, as if shocked. as though he wasn’t expecting such an easy confession to tumble from my lips.

“you just-” i sigh, tears spilling over my waterline as i freeze, the joints of my thumbs being pressed to my eyes in attempt to stop my crying, “why don’t you want me to be happy, Jack?

“i spent six years pining for you. i would’ve done anything to get you to love me. and all you wanted was her! and i don’t hate you for that, i can’t be mad at you, you can’t help who you love; but now that i’ve tried to move on, you want to tell me that i shouldn’t marry him? you don’t even love me!”

anger bubbles within me at the audacity that he holds, my hand flying between us in emphasis of my emotions.

“yes, i do!” he spits back, stepping towards me, “don’t tell me what i feel! just because i may not have felt it back then doesn’t mean i can’t feel it now!”

“you only want me because you can’t have her!” i argue.

“you keep saying that but that’s not true! and no matter how many times you say it, it’s not just gonna magically become true, y/n!

“maybe you want to be right because it would make this easier on you. but the truth is that spending time with you without Sara around just gave me the opportunity to get to know the real you. and yes, maybe i didn’t love you like this then, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that i love you now.”

his chest heaves as he closes the space between us once more, staring down at me the exact way that i’ve looked at him all these years; like i’m the only person in the world for him. like i hung the stars in the sky to shine just for him. like i hold his heart in my hands, the fate of his existence weighing in my decisions.

“i love the way you smile and the way that you speak so softly.” he whispers breathily, “i love seeing you in your glasses late at night, and the fact that somehow you’re always cold. i love your kind heart and the way that you care about everyone you meet, so easily. i love your smart mind and the fact that even though you know you’re smarter than literally everyone here, you don’t show it off or make us feel dumb. instead, you correct us lightly, even if it’s Trevor being stubborn and insisting he’s right.”

i let out a raspy chuckle at his words, tears still silently falling down my cheeks.

“i love your determination and that when you set your mind to something, you achieve it. i love your good and even what you say are your flaws. i love you, y/n. and i’m sorry that i didn’t see it before. tell me to back off and i will. tell me you choose him and i’ll leave you alone, i won’t push it. but i needed to tell you how i feel before it was too late.”

he finally ends his speech, his eyes flickering between my own and my lips.

my mind feels numb yet entirely too full with this new knowledge, and i can’t process it all with him staring at me expectantly.

“can i think about this? please?” i question, pulling away, “this is a lot for me to process right now and i need some time, Jack.

“i spent so long trying to get over you. i thought you would never like me the way that i like you, and now you’re telling me this and i have to make a decision and i just-”

“of course.” Jack cuts me off, nodding, “take however long you need. i don’t want you to feel rushed; really think about it, bug. i don’t want you to choose me just because you feel like you have to. if you want him, then choose him. but if you want me, i’m here. i’m telling you that i love you and i want you, and i’ll wait however long you need.”

i nod, turning and finally walking into the house, hands swiftly wiping at my cheeks to try and get rid of my tears before i reach the door, but it’s useless. just as fast as i wipe the old tears, new ones follow.

“and i— y/n, you okay?” Luke asks, stopping his story to the guys as i rush through the living room and towards the stairs.

i stop at the first step, sniffling but not turning to face them, “yeah, i’m gonna head to bed. i’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

a chorus of ‘goodnight’s are shouted my way as i ascend the stairs, shutting myself in my bedroom and locking the door.

crumpling to the bed, my tears won’t stop, heavy sobs wracking my chest.

hours pass by slowly until it’s eight in the morning, my body exhausted and aching from tossing and turning all night. i couldn’t shut my mind off, no matter how hard i tried.

i feel so conflicted, my heart being pulled into two directions, but i know that one direction is stronger than the other.

no matter how hard i tried to move on, i should’ve known that there was no ‘moving on’ from Jack. those feelings would always linger, still hidden under the guise of closure and friendship.

Jack is my home. my heart will always lie with him, no matter how long passes or who i meet.

my thumb hovers over Ryan’s contact, shaking but otherwise frozen, my body overwhelmed with anxiety at what might await me at the other end of the phone call.

the dial tone rings out, my cellphone now being pressed to my ear as i await the greeting from the other side.

“hey, babe. i was just about to call you.”

“you were?” my tone is raspy and low, my throat sore from crying.

“yeah, somethings come up. i don’t think i can make it on the trip like we planned.” a sense of relief fills me at his words.

“oh, that’s okay. i actually think i’m gonna come back early.” i tell him, my eyes staring straight ahead of me at my half packed suitcase.

“why’s that?”

“i think we need to talk.” i confess, pressure building back up on my chest as i think about the conversation awaiting me back home.

Ryan sighs gently and i can hear some papers being shuffled around, the creak of a door shutting before he speaks again.

“did you sleep with him?”

“what?” i’m appalled, my lips parted in disbelief.

“Jack. did you sleep with him?” he wonders so easily, like he just assumed it would happen.

“no!” i scoff.

“then it’s okay.” he replies, and though i don’t know how he would know, i can tell; he knows what i have to tell him. “i expected it. i really liked you, and i know you really liked me, but i’ve known from the start that i couldn’t compare to him.

“you may have have liked me, but you love him.” he tells me, “i just hope he doesn’t take you for granted, because you deserve the best. and if he is that for you, then i’m happy for you. but if he treats you like anything less… don’t settle, y/n.”

just when i had thought i had nothing left to give, more tears run down my rose tinted cheeks, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t be.” he’s stern with his words, showing me he means them, “i assume he told you how he feels?”

“yeah.” i sigh, “he loves me.”

“then don’t be sorry. you deserve to love and to be loved.”

“thank you.”

he mutters a goodbye, the call ending, and i feel a sense of determination flood through my veins.

rising off my bed, i fling open my bedroom door, stomping down the steps until i reach the kitchen, where i can hear the boys discussing the plan for the day.

at my whirlwind arrival, the boys silence, watching me with baited breath and curious eyes as i stalk towards Jack, who stands frozen at the counter.

“what’s going o-” Trevor’s words are quieted by the sound of my hand smacking against Jack’s cheek. the boys gasping at my action before Trevor begins to laugh.

“that’s for waiting so long.” i huff and Jack nods robotically.

“so i’m guessing that’s a no?” he wonders, voice solemn, as though accepting defeat.

“shut up.” i whisper.

my hands glide over his shoulders, wrapping around the nape of his neck as i pull him down towards me, crashing my lips upon his in a bruising kiss.

“oh!” “what the fuck!”

our friends reactions are thoroughly ignored, Jack’s hands coming to rest on my waist, his fingers gripping into my hips as he deepens the kiss. his tongue slides past my parted lips, but i pull away before we can get any farther in front of our friends.

“and that’s my decision.” i whisper, a beautiful smile spreading across his lips, “don’t make me regret it.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it, bug.”

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on Ron and Hermione as a ship?

thank you very much for the ask, @thesilverstarling!

i’ll state my position straight away: book ron and hermione are the best of the canon couples.

they will have a long and extremely happy marriage made rich by great and stalwart love, lust, fun, and faithfulness, rather than held together by duty and couples’ therapy like so many readers and authors (including jkr, who seems to have decided to spend the years since the conclusion of the series failing to understand anything about her own characters) tend to think.

i will state another position straight away: lest i seem like i’m just a fan with blinkers on, i think this even though hermione is, by far, my least favourite member of the trio. if she were real i would detest her, and i dislike how she is treated by the narrative as always justified in her negative characteristics. i like fanon hermione - perfect and preternaturally good - even less.

as a result, i think that it’s ridiculous that jkr has said that she thought ron needed to ‘become worthy’ of hermione. they belong together as equals - which is what they’re set up in the narrative as being from the off - and i hate seeing that undermined.

because ronald weasley? he’s an icon. and he doesn’t get anywhere near the respect he deserves in fandom.

there are multiple reasons for this - ron’s narrative purpose is to be the everyman sidekick, and so he is able to be less special than harry or hermione (the helper-figure); the amount of aristocracy wank in this fandom means that the weasleys’ ordinariness is less appealing to writers than making harry have twenty different lordships and call himself hadrian; the narrative interrogates ron’s flaws - especially his capacity for jealousy - much more intensively than it interrogates either hermione’s (cruel, inflexible, meddling) or harry’s (reckless, self-absorbed, judgemental) - but one i feel is particularly significant is that ron is such a british character that many of his traits are not understood as intended by non-british readers.

in particular - as is outlined in this excellent meta by @whinlatter - ron’s sense of humour isn’t indicative of immaturity or a lack of seriousness, but is, in fact, evidence that he’s the most emotionally aware of the trio.

ron is shown throughout the series to understand how both harry and hermione need to have their emotions approached - and i think there is no piece of writing which says this better than crocodile heart by @floreatcastellumposts:

That was what she liked most about Ron, she thought vaguely. He was very good at being suitably outraged on your behalf. For Harry, for her, for Neville. That sort of thing mattered, when you were hurt or embarrassed or wronged in some way. You needed to have someone else on your side, to be as emotional as you felt, maybe even more so, so that you might feel a bit more normal. It was very decent of him, and she was not sure he realised he did it.

ron’s inherent emotional awareness is an enormous source of comfort to other people. he does the work which isn’t flashy or special - he makes tea and tells jokes and is just there - but which is needed in healthy human relationships far more frequently than a willingness to fight to the death for the other person.

[as an aside, this normality - even though i think it is assumed rather than justified by the text - is also what ginny provides for harry. if you believe that hinny are a good couple but romione aren’t… i can’t help you.]

but let’s look at some specific reasons why ron and hermione belong together:

their communication styles mesh perfectly. ron is the only person hermione knows who feeds her love of being challenged and debated, and who is able to engage in this way of communicating without becoming irate when she refuses to back down. ron is good at picking his battles, but he’s also good at recognising that hermione’s tendency to argue isn’t intended to be confrontational a lot of the time - it’s just the way she works through feelings and problems. he’s far more easy-going about her tendency to nag, interrupt, try to provoke arguments, or speak condescendingly than he’s given credit for - and hermione evidently respects this, since when he does tell her not to push a situation (above all, when she’s trying to needle harry into talking about sirius), she listens to him.

that ron and hermione’s tendency to bicker is taken by fans to be a bad thing is because it’s something harry - from whose perspective the narrative is written - doesn’t understand. harry is extremely conflict-avoidant - he tends to take being pushed on views and opinions he has to be insulting; and he has a tendency to assume that he is right which is just as profound as hermione’s. he and ginny communicate not by debating, but by ginny having no time for his rigidity and refusing to indulge it - but ron and hermione bickering about everything is not a negative thing within their specific emotional dynamic.

[as another aside, this glaring chasm in communication styles is why harry and hermione would be a disaster as a couple.]

they each provide validation the other needs. it’s clear - reading between the lines - that hermione is a tremendously lonely person. the friendlessness of her initial few weeks at hogwarts seems to be a continuation of her experience as a child, and - outside of ron and harry - that friendlessness endures through her schooldays. i’m always struck, for example, by the fact that, when she falls out with ron in prisoner of azkaban, she has no-one else to spend time with, and that this is only avoided in half-blood prince because harry decides not to freeze her out. i don’t think her friendship with ginny is anywhere near as close as fanon seems to imply (ginny has no interest in being nagged either), nor do i think that she’s anywhere near as close to neville (not least because she is so condescending to him) as she’s often written to be.

and this loneliness seems to stretch beyond hogwarts. the absence of hermione’s parents’ from the narrative is - in a doylist sense - clearly just a device to maximise time with the trio all together, but the watsonian reading is that she doesn’t have a particularly good relationship with them. hermione’s obviously upper-middle-class background - the name! the skiing! the holidays in the south of france! - can be presumed, i think, to come with a series of expectations from her parents which she feels constantly that she’s not entirely meeting, particularly expectations attached to academic success.

[for example, the grangers - were she a muggle child - would undoubtedly have ambitions for her to attend an elite university and then go into a prestigious career. tertiary education of the type that they’re familiar with doesn’t seem to exist in the wizarding world - most careers seem to be taught by apprenticeship - and this, alongside all the other divides between the magical and muggle worlds which contribute to the distance between them, would be one very obvious area in which she felt the need to prove herself to them.]

ron, too, has quite a difficult relationship with his position in the family - voldemort’s locket is not wrong to point out that he seems to receive considerably less of his mother’s emotional attention than ginny or the rest of his brothers - and he too is constrained by expectations which he doesn’t know how to explain he has no interest in - above all, molly’s desire for her sons to achieve top grades and go into the ministry.

he also suffers while at hogwarts from being ‘harry potter’s best friend’, something which harry never appreciates. but hermione does. she recognises ron’s jealousy and never allows harry to minimise it (and she and ron are very much aligned on having no respect for harry’s saviour and martyr complexes). she appreciates ron’s strengths - above all his kindness and his sense of humour - and makes him feel as though he’s achieved things with them. and ron does the same for her; he is hugely observant when it comes to her, and he challenges and defends her.

the two of them clearly spend a lot of time together one-on-one while harry’s involved in his various shenanigans (including outside of school - hermione has often arrived at the burrow days or even weeks before harry, and they seem to write to each other frequently when apart). they do this within a relationship which is fundamentally equal. one issue with hinny is that, post-war, harry is going to have to get used to seeing ginny as a peer, rather than as someone he has to protect. but ron and hermione never have that issue - equality is baked into their relationship from the off.

because, to be quite frank, fandom overstates the role that jealousy plays in their relationship. it’s true that ron certainly doesn’t acquit himself brilliantly when it comes to hermione’s relationship with viktor krum (it’s because he’s bi and doesn’t know it yet), and a tendency to externalise his insecurity into trying to make others also feel insecure is one of his primary negative traits (hermione does this too, via her patented lofty voice when she’s trying to condescend to people). but this is often taken as the initial red flag for how the relationship would crash and burn, and ron’s toxic jealousy is often used in fan-fiction as the trigger for emotional and physical violence towards hermione which, frequently, seems to drive her into the arms of either draco malfoy or severus snape… who are, of course, the first people we think of when we hear the words ‘not prone to jealousy’...

but i think it’s important to point out several things in defence of ron’s jealousy over krum. firstly, hermione evidently regards his jealousy as ridiculous - she’s upset by it, yes, but her upset must be understood as being caused by the fact that she wanted him to ask her out. she doesn’t think he’s being possessive, she thinks he’s being stupid. secondly, hermione is equally as jealous over ron’s crush on fleur delacour and relationship with lavender brown. she behaves just as cruelly when it comes to lavender as ron does when it comes to krum - and the narrative only treats her actions as more sympathetic or justified both because harry dislikes lavender too, and because, by that point in the series, jkr has dispensed with any inclination to ever criticise her.

but, outside of this teenage pettiness, ron is never jealous of hermione over things which matter. he is never jealous of her intelligence or competence or ambition or success (indeed, he defends her constantly from attacks designed to undermine her in these areas). for someone who struggles with being overshadowed by harry, he is never upset at being overshadowed by her. he is clearly going to be happy to support her in any of the career ambitions she can be written as having post-war.

and, on this point, i think it’s worth interrogating why so many readers still seem to feel uncomfortable with the idea of ron and hermione having a dynamic where she is the more ‘powerful’ one. [it’s always a bit trite to say ‘but what if the genders were reversed?’, but actually that’s not irrelevant here]. if hermione ends up taking the ministry by storm and ron becomes a stay-at-home father or has a job which is just to pay the bills, what, precisely, is wrong with that? why, precisely, should hermione regard ron making that choice for himself as a negative thing? hermione so often seems to leave ron in fan-fiction because of a lack of ambition - something which seems to be particularly common in dramione - but, in canon, she is shown to not particularly care if ron and harry do the bare minimum when it comes to studying etc. she nags them to do their work so they don’t get in trouble. she doesn’t nag them to do it to the same standard that she would.

and, actually, i think that ron being less ambitious than hermione is something which is key to how well they work. because ron provides not only emotional support, but emotional clarity.

hermione is shown throughout canon to - just as harry does - have a tendency to become obsessive to the detriment of her own health. she is also often - as harry is - emotionally or intellectually inflexible, and finds it hard to move on when what she feels or believes is proven to be wrong. both she and harry are micro-thinkers, who lean towards knee-jerk assumptions and stubborn convictions (and, indeed, hermione has a remarkably hagrid-ish tendency towards blind loyalty).

ron is none of these things. ron is a big-picture thinker (it’s why he’s so good at chess). he’s a pragmatist. he’s the least righteous of the three. he understands that faith and loyalty are choices, and that sometimes these choices will lead to outcomes which are bad or hard. he is the one of the three most willing to own up to having made mistakes. he is the one least likely to act on gut instinct (and, therefore, the hardest to fool - i think it’s worth emphasising that he clocks that tom riddle is tricking harry immediately, the only one of the trio to do so). he understands that things are a marathon, not a sprint. he is the least obsessive.

and these traits contribute to aspects of his character which are underappreciated. ron worries about hermione making herself ill during exams, or when she is using the time-turner, and makes an effort to get her to set healthy boundaries and redirect her anxiety. ron stands on a broken leg in front of sirius or goes into the forest to fight aragog not out of righteousness, but out of choice. ron takes over the burden of preparing buckbeak’s defence when it is clear that hermione is approaching burnout. ron is completely right that harry hasn’t done any long-term planning for the horcrux hunt, and his anger does force harry to tighten up after he leaves the trio. ron has a clear head in the middle of battle. ron makes harry and hermione laugh. ron is unafraid of human emotion. ron arrests harry’s tendency to brood over the little things by looking at the bigger picture. ron will always come back.

ron is bringing his politician wife regular cups of tea and making sure she doesn’t work all night. he is helping his lawyer wife to feel less upset over losing one case by reminding her that she’s won ten others. he is noticing stress creeping in and whirling her off for a dirty weekend, or even just a takeaway on the sofa. he is teaching his daughter to be proud of her ambition and his son to treat women as equals and both of his children that all you can do when you fuck up is apologise and try to do better. he is making hermione smile on the worst days of her life. he is helping her strategise her long-term goals when she gets stuck on the short-term ones. he is telling her straight when she needs to get it together. he is seeing a misogynistic head of department call hermione a ‘silly little girl’ and choosing to tell him exactly what he thinks of that.

ron is the ultimate wife guy. hermione is a very, very lucky lady.

[pickmans-muse]

Submissive Headcanons Attack on Titan

TW: dom reader, pegging, fingering, cursing, degrading, praising (char. receiving), painplay, petplay

Levi Ackerman

Levi’s more than a little touch-starved. He’ll die before he admits that, if he’s even aware, though, because he doesn’t want you to think he’s “weak.” There’s a lot of trauma for him around having to be “strong” for everyone around him—which started in the Underground.

If you touch him, he’ll melt. Seriously. He’s spent so much time fighting that a gentle touch is weird to him, in a good way. He drinks it up like a cat that wants cuddles, and the more he gets used to it, the more he’ll start to seek it out. It’s going to start small—“can you touch my hair again?” “remember when you held me?”—but when he finds the confidence to ask for what he wants, Levi will be Very Touchy. Almost clingy, actually.

He has a pretty low sex drive (sorry guys), but he seeks you out for affirmation and affection. He’s a little kinky, but not in surprising ways—he wants to be praised constantly, he likes you to tell him what to do and how to do it (he’s not very experienced when you start having sex, and he likes the way you order him around in the beginning), and he will absolutely let you tie him up. Carefully.

He likes German nicknames, simple ones—schatz, schatzchen (literally, treasure, or sweetheart). You speaking German is an immediate turn on for him.

His favorite thing about subbing for you is when you finger him. He wants to feel your skin on his, and it always makes him short of breath—in the best way. And if you overstimulate him until he can’t think? Best night of his life. He may not have a high sex drive, but his stamina is amazing when you do get him in bed, and he will want to come at least three or four times a night.

Levi’s aware that you find his ass sexy. He’s a bit embarrassed when you praise him, or touch him during sex—he goes all blushy and quiet, it’s really cute. He’s pretty sensitive, especially his nipples. Get clamps for him, and he’ll be so much louder, it’s insane. Nobody in the building will sleep if you do, though.

He wants a soft dom, one who will check in on him during sex and do a lot of aftercare later. Levi’s secret desire is to be able to be his dry-humored, soft-sided self—not just the strength he wears around every day. He wants to be taken care of.

Armin Arlert

The kinkiest of the AoT boys (I don’t make the rules), Armin takes submissive and needy to a whole other level. He’s got the highest sex drive out of everyone—with the possible exception of Porco—and this man is so damn obedient.

You want him on his knees, in a collar and leash? He will literally roll over and woof for you. You’d rather have him in shibari or some other bondage? Armin’s there. Want to put him in a ball gag or blindfold while you have sex? He’ll do both, as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

However, Armin is a people pleaser, which means that you have to remind him that you’d rather he safeword out than push himself too far for you. Do not let him near the hard stuff until he’s comfortable enough to safeword out, knowing it won’t disappoint you.

His biggest kinks are pet play (let him be your kitten or puppy, that’s his favorite thing), dacryphilia, and dumbification. Basically, he’s going to be such a good boy that you’ll overstimulate him until he’s sobbing, without a thought in his head. That’s the goal for him. He’s extremely sensitive, so it’s not hard.

Most of the boys like pet names, but Armin’s obsessed with them—hündchen (puppy), kätzchen (kitten), especially. Do not call him these outside the bedroom, unless you want him to turn bright pink and pop the mother of all boners. (If he knows you’re going to do it, he’ll enjoy it, though.)

Low stamina—it really doesn’t take much to completely overwhelm him. If you make him come three times, he’s going to be completely brain-dead, with his tongue hanging out and his eyes teary. He won’t exactly mind that, provided you tell him he was a good boy and he did a good job.

His favorite thing about subbing for you is surprising you when you come home. He’ll wear cat ears and a tail plug for you, or lacy blue lingerie. He loves to dress up for you, and be waiting when you arrive.

As long as you make sure Armin knows you’ll never judge him for using his safeword, he’ll be comfortable with you—and a comfy Armin will be the most obedient sub you’ve ever had. Seriously.

Reiner Braun

Reiner may be a physically imposing guy, but he’s always struggled with self-image issues. Where Armin wants to be obedient, and Levi wants to be loved, Reiner’s desire to sub comes from a need to be affirmed. He wants to feel like he can be good enough after all.

Never degrade him, with words or role play. Reiner wants, more than anything, to be good. Tell him he’s doing well for you, that he’s so pretty, that he’ll always be enough for you.

His favorite part is when you ask him to pleasure you. He wants to be helpful, useful, and it never fails to hit that button when he gets you off—with fingers, mouth, or anything else. He wants to serve you.

Reiner is pretty vanilla, when it comes to sex. The big thing for him is that he always wants to touch you. He’s very attentive, and he remembers exactly what and where makes you groan, gasp, and shout. Whatever makes you happiest—that’s all he wants to do.

He likes being underneath you, especially if you’re smaller than he is (which isn’t hard). The thought of being controlled by someone smaller than himself, of being totally subservient to someone tiny compared to him—that’s really his only kink.

Reiner wouldn’t have a problem with being gagged or blindfolded, so long as he’s allowed to touch you. He will absolutely worship your body, and he cares way more about your release than his. So if you’re going to dom Reiner, make sure to tell him that you want him to get off too.

Reiner has a middling sex drive, but his stamina is insane, by which I mean he will come basically all night. He’s not particularly sensitive, but getting you off gets him off—knowing he’s doing a good job is the key for him.

Porco Galliard

An absolute brat. He wants you to dominate him, push him down, and fuck him rough and sloppy. Does not want you to coddle him (until afterwards), and will complain loudly if you’re “not fucking him hard enough.”

Pegging is his happy place, the faster and rougher the better. This is a way for him to unwind. For Porco, sex is a place where submitting isn’t bad, unlike the pecking order everywhere else in his life—but he likes to be put in his place.

Use a leash of some kind, maybe the tie of a uniform, or even just pull him around by his hair. Give it a little jerk, just to show him who’s in charge, but don’t choke him. That will snap him out of the scene and into an actual panic so fast it’ll give you both whiplash.

Speaking of whips, Porco is a bit of a masochist, and pain will get him off without fail. Does he have a box of crops and floggers under his bed? Yes. Will he let you use them? Hell yes. Will he ever even suggest that he’s not the dom outside the bedroom? Not for a second. It gives you an excuse to spank him for being bad, and that’s the whole point.

Will start off by insulting you and end by calling you by an honorific—ma’am, sir, captain, etc. Porco likes roleplay, as long as you’re acting the part of a superior putting him in his place—his favorite is when you’re playing an officer, and he’s playing your secretary. And if you peg him in the outfits for the roleplay? He’s on cloud nine.

His favorite position (he will die before he admits this) is when you fold him into a mating press. The feeling of being so easily manhandled, like all his muscle is for nothing, is his favorite part of it.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Ok so Harry has a tendency to blatantly state out loud just how much the Dursleys don't give two shits about him (to the point that the people around him think it's just a typical teenager over exaggerating their complaints), but... Does he realise that the way he is being treated by them is wrong?

Also like, I know that the way the Dursleys treated him plays a huge part in the way Harry behaves and views himself- specifically him not thinking an adult is a reliable source of help and protection + his disastrouly low self esteem + how he doesn't respond to Snape's everything (which is the exact opposite of what James would have done) ... But what are the other ways in which he got affected and it shows? (Someone once mentioned that they hc that when feeling extreme emotions Harry tends to skip out on food and may have nearly wasted away in his second year had it not been for Ron and Hermione- which is also why they act so much like Harry's bodyguards)

Yep, Harry put no effort into hiding his abuse. He literally told anyone who would listen. By 5th year, he was making jokes about it to Ron and Hermione who seemed used to it.

Now, you've raised a few questions and I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability.

Does he realise that the way he is being treated by them is wrong?

I think he does. Most of his comments about his relatives' treatment definitely sound like Harry is very aware that he shouldn't be treated like that.

“I told you, I didn’t — but it’ll take too long to explain now — look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so —” “Stop gibbering,” said Ron. “We’ve come to take you home with us.” “But you can’t magic me out either —” “We don’t need to,” said Ron, jerking his head toward the front seat and grinning. “You forget who I’ve got with me.” “Tie that around the bars,” said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to Harry. “If the Dursleys wake up, I’m dead,” said Harry as he tied the rope tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car. “Don’t worry,” said Fred, “and stand back.”

(COS, page 31)

“It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped. “They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(COS, page 39)

But Harry wasn’t going to stand for this. Gone were the days when he had been forced to take every single one of the Dursleys’ stupid rules.

(GOF, page 33)

“Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer.

(OOTP, page 54)

“You don’t seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles. . . . All they want is an O.W.L. in Muggle Studies. . . . ‘Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience, and a good sense of fun!’ ” “You’d need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle,” said Harry darkly. “Good sense of when to duck, more like . . .”

(OOTP, page 657)

It seems Harry is very much aware that the way he is being treated is wrong. the younger Weasleys and Hermione are clearly aware of that too. Harry calls the Dursleys' rules stupid, he knows the Dursleys aren't treating him the way they should and that he doesn't have to take it. That he shouldn't have to take it.

Harry is kind of a best-case scenario of an abused kid and Dumbledore was so lucky Harry ended up functional enough for his plans. It could've so easily gone down differently.

Honestly, I'm enraged on Harry's behalf at how Arthur, Molly, and Lupin (and every other adult) just completely ignore his mistreatment. He really does just state plainly what's going on and has Ron, Fred, George, and Hermione backing up everything he says.

What are the other ways in which he got affected and it shows?

I do like when Harry's approach to food is affected by the Dursleys starving him, that being said, there isn't really any book evidence for it. It's an interesting headcanon to explore though. His low self-esteem, willingness to endanger himself, and his thinking that adults be counted on are definitely effects seen in the books. As for other things we do see in the books:

1. Harry is actually really quiet. He doesn't speak as much as Ron and Hermione and he's pretty awkward with social interaction. He mimics Ron in many ways since he never had any friends before him.

His approach to studying is one of the ways he mimics Ron socially. Harry actually read their school books before 1st year, he found Hedwig's name in a History of Magic. And he planned to study at the beginning of Philosopher's Stone. Then he meets Ron and realizes no one in Gryffindor except Hermione actually studies, and she is hated for it. So he didn't bother studying either, even though he planned to because he wanted to fit in.

2. Harry isn't great at emotional regulation, specifically anger. Harry is a pretty angry character and throughout the books, he actually has moments when he completely loses himself to a sense of anger.

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill.

(POA, page 339)

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!” Somewhere under Harry’s numb disbelief he felt a ripple of anger. Little boy?

(GOF, page 275)

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GOF, page 300)

If Dudley’s friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him, and what would Dudley do then? He wouldn’t want to lose face in front of the gang, but he’d be terrified of provoking Harry. . . . It would be really fun to watch Dudley’s dilemma; to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond . . . and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, Harry was ready — he had his wand . . . let them try . . . He’d love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell —

(OOTP, page 11)

He does calm down the older he gets. But he definitely has a lot of anger in him.

3. Harry, in general, has a disrespect for authority. I assume this is an extension of his distrust of adults, in that no teacher or nurse ever helped him. Harry is so anti-authority and anti-orders, that he can resist the Imperius Curse decently from the first try.

Harry just doesn't do orders or authority. Actually in the earlier books, and even in books 6 and 7, Harry has his doubts about Dumbledore. He repeatedly tells people he's Dumbledore's man, but in his head, he has doubts. Like he has for any other adult with authority over him.

“Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. “He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true —

(COS, page 282)

“Because the Ministry of Magic’s still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There’s not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix . . . or so Dumbledore feels.” There was something about the slightly flattened tone of voice in which Sirius uttered Dumbledore’s name that told Harry that Sirius was not very happy with the headmaster either. Harry felt a sudden upsurge of affection for his godfather.

(OOTP, pages 82-83)

He's very distrusting of adults and authority, but also his peers. He doesn't tell Ron and Hermione everything in the earlier books because he is very slow to trust. Which, makes sense for someone who grew up like he did.

4. His occasional impulsiveness is an extension of his issues with emotional regulation, I think.

5. I think Harry's cunning Slytherin streak is a result of his abuse. The Dursleys' mistreatment taught him to sneak around, to lie, to be clever. It taught him to keep a blank face when being yelled at because if he reacted it'll make it worse.

He learned how to insult the Dursleys in ways that go over Dudley's head. His little way to rebel.

6. His response to pain as well. We see it with Umbridge and the blood quill for example:

He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry’s right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth. Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. “Yes?” “Nothing,” said Harry quietly. He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time

(OOTP, page 267)

Harry can hide his pain and not react to it, and he does it well. He learned from the Dursleys that she wants to see his pain, and he isn't going to give her what she wants. Instead, he grits his teeth through it and doesn't react externally.

Even later in the book when Umbridge threatens with the Crociatus Curse, Harry just braces himself for it, not planning to break (in later books too, Harry is very willing to get hurt and just deal with it). He is willing to take torture without reacting, and I think this is something he got from the Dursleys.

These are the some other things that came to mind regarding your question. There are probably more that I can't think of now that I might add later. Harry is who he is in part because of his nightmare of a childhood. So many facets of his personality just link back to it.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 5 MATCH 3

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

Dimitri propaganda:

“He's chivalrous, he's blood thirsty, all rolled up into one package and calling you "his beloved". Get you a man who can do both.”

“My husband <3 He's schizophrenic just like me and I love him for that.”

"First, look at him. No disrespect to the monster lovers, but even if blonde, blue-eyed hunks aren't your thing, you can't deny that Dimitri is very pretty.

Second, one of the things I love most about Dimitri is how self aware he is of his privilege as a prince (or king) and how seriously he treats the gravity of his position. He has a strong sense of duty and wants to be a good leader who listens to and provides for the needs of all of his people. This includes the citizens of Duscur, who were nearly wiped out by his own countrymen in (mistaken) retaliation for his father's murder. His commitment to righting this wrong is one of his primary goals in life.

Third, while he is more than capable of crushing a man's skull with his bare hands, under normal circumstances he absolutely wouldn't. A large part of the reason why his fall is so shocking and devastating to witness is because by the time he snaps, we know that Dimitri is actually a kind and gentle soul who hates violence and understands that even his enemies are human. Even at his worst point he still recognizes this, which feeds into his extreme self loathing. He extends compassion and forgiveness to others but struggles mightily to allow himself any forbearance for his own mistakes. He's kind quite literally to a fault, as his empathy is both his greatest strength AND his biggest flaw and I find that as heartwarming as it is heartbreaking."

"Okay first for all the "he needs therapy haha funny" (and its annoying corollary "I can fix him") comments, 1) don't we all? And 2) you can't romance him til end game when he is in a much healthier place due to his own choice to change his priorities and the support of you and his friends. He battles daily with severe mental illness in a repressed society that doesn't talk about it. And on multiple occasions tells people that it is okay to feel your feelings and offers support despite his own struggles (I include that bc that is a date able trait to me). If he's not your fave that's cool, but leave the ableist language out of it pretty please 💙💙 Okay reasons he should be your boyfriend now!!

He calls you his beloved and wants to hold your hand 🥺

His happiest moments in game are when you smile

And in conclusion, he is shaped like a dorito and has a huge cloak to snuggle you up in"

[harmonictechnicality]

Memory Log: Day 52

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here | part 5 here | part 6 here (ao3 link here)

After seeing his ink-smeared biography all over Eddie Munson’s arm, Steve becomes extremely motivated. Obsessed, even.

He assembles a makeshift army. Eddie’s Memory Soldiers, he calls it. Okay - he doesn’t call it that out loud, only to himself (because even Steve is self-aware enough to know how deranged this all sounds).

Steve compiles a ragtag group of Eddie’s friends to nudge his brain along faster. Band mates, theater dweebs, potheads that can carry a tune. All of them bring mixtapes on their visits. After two weekends, there’s already a fuckload of thrashy melodies for Eddie to choose from.

He lets them take the reins on this music-healing plan because there’s no fucking way Steve will be helpful in that department. It means less visits that include his presence, which sort of sucks, but it’s worth it. Worth it to get Eddie back to where he used to be.

Before Steve heads out for one of his morning visits, Robin interrogates him. Asks him the question he’s been ignoring for weeks.

“Steve… not to sound harsh, but why do you care so much?” 

Yeah. Why does he care so much? 

She quickly follows it up with, “I just didn’t know you two were friends now. So I’m just curious, I guess.”

They’re not friends. They’re lukewarm tolerators - tethered together by monster hunting and Dustin Henderson.

They’ve flirted, sure. But who doesn’t? Steve would flirt with half of the leggy cartoon characters that appear on Saturday Mornings if he could. So that’s a weak argument to assume they’re more than just friends. Tolerators. Whatever.

So he lies. To Robin. To himself. Lies so much that it sits in his stomach like motion sickness.

He answers the exact same way he’s been answering since day one:

“I’m just doing this for the kids, Robs.”

He’s pretty sure neither of them are buying that statement. He tries again. Stamps the words onto his confused brain. Considers writing them on his arm just like Eddie might do.

“I’m doing it for them.”

Eddie is always on his Walkman (Steve’s Walkman) now that he has skyscraper of cassettes on his desk. Pretty much every time Steve returns, Eddie is head banging. Won’t stop until the nurses scold him.

Or Steve. He’ll stop if Steve scolds him too.

“You can’t keep jostling up your brain, Munson.” Steve whips the headphones off of Eddie’s ears. “Gonna undo all of our hard work.”

“Our hard work?” Eddie attempts to grab the headphones back. Gives up as soon as their hands make contact. “And who might be included in this our that you speak of?”

“You know…” Me. “The doctors and nurses and your friends.”

“Right.”

This is how things have been going lately. Eddie teases him mercilessly and Steve bats it all away. Doesn’t encourage it for a second.

Which blows so hard because he wants to flirt back. Steve wants to know what Eddie feels like beyond tubes and bandages and hospital gowns. He wants way too much after watching Eddie fall asleep smiling that night. After finding out that Eddie scams his own mind into remembering Steve in technicolor details every day.

But it feels wrong. Deep down, there’s this part of Steve that worries that Eddie only likes the scribbled notes, the good qualities of himself. The non-prickster qualities.

He doesn’t scribble the bad qualities on his arm. Eddie lets himself forget about those every night. 

So it seems wrong. Unfair to let Eddie only remember the good parts of him and take advantage of his weak mind.

Life was a fucking breeze before Steve cared about not taking advantage of people. Shit, he used the world’s biggest advantage-taker before all of this evil wizard nonsense.

“Quiz me, Harrington.” Eddie insists.

So Steve does. Steve goes down the list of questions. Things that Eddie’s memory typically hesitates to recognize. 

Music helps Eddie remember his childhood memories the best.

That’s the biggest discovery they’ve made over the last fourteen days. Tapes that include songs from the early to mid 70’s have the biggest mental impact on his memory skills. Every day, he recalls more moments from his past.

Winter birthday parties. Recess and tire swings. Nineteen chickenpox. A pet hamster named Sterling.

“Can’t believe Wayne trusted you with a living creature.” Steve sneers.

“Never said he did.”

He always gets fuzzy with stuff from the late 70s though. And the early 80s is just a jumbled-up shit show. That’s when Eddie really starts failing his quiz.

“What year did you get the tattoo on your chest?”

“You mean this one?” Eddie pulls down the wrinkly hospital gown, exposing way too much of his collarbone. “Or this one?” He pulls the fabric down even further.

They must’ve finally turned the heat on in this place. Or maybe Steve’s sweater is just extra itchy, scratching his skin all splotchy red. He rubs furiously at the collar, spreads the flush all over by accident. 

His eyes dart up to the fluorescent lights. Away from Eddie’s chest. “Um… the… creepy guy.”

“You’ll sprain your neck looking up like that.”

“Good thing I’m in a hospital then.”

“Okay - seriously, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure.” Eddie snorts. His heart monitor beeps faster. Steve hates that laughing must be a bit painful for him. “And he’s not some creepy guy. He’s a creepy demon. Please respect the body art and get your facts right.”

“Fine.”

Not flirting back makes Steve feel like he could break out into hives. He has a fucking stockpile of pickup lines. He hoards provocative catchphrases like a horny pack rat. Talking is becoming increasingly difficult when he can’t banter back the way he wants to.

“Don’t remember what year I got it.” Eddie admits. “Sorry.”

Steve pulls his focus away from the ceiling and scribbles that down:

Eddie still can’t remember when he got his tattoos.

“Gee mister,” Eddie imitates a very masculine Shirley Temple voice. “Am I failing the pop quiz already?”

Eddie remembers who Shirley Temple is (weird, but okay).

Eddie does a really shitty impression of Shirley Temple.

Steve just keeps writing. Not even writing words anymore, just moving the pen to stay focused. Stay distracted from flirting.

The energy starts to feel swampy and stiff as he continues to give short responses with lifeless enthusiasm. Steve can tell that Eddie is picking up on the weirdness too. 

He’s so fidgety. Drumming his fingers, twisting the one ring he’s allowed to wear on one of his less busted fingers. Bobbing his knees and kicking off his blankets. 

Eventually, Eddie puts his (Steve’s) headphones back on and closes his eyes. A nonverbal surrender. A borrowed Walkman instead of a white flag. Why does it feel so shitty to see that he is just as defeated as Steve?

Once Eddie is asleep, Steve peaks over at his arms.

The notes are still there. Fading, but there.

It shouldn’t jab him in the heart the way that it does every time he checks, but christ. It’s so fucked up.

Slowly but surely, Eddie is gaining pieces of his past, but never his present. Why the fuck is that? Steve is so selfishly pissed about that because he’s a main role in Eddie’s present life. 

He’s the one that’s here most days. He’s the one that listens to Eddie’s rants and incessant complaints. He’s the one that calls the nurses when Eddie is too prideful to admit when he’s in pain.

Steve should be remembered without smudgey reminders and foggy recollections.

Steve should be un-fucking-forgettable.

After an unhealthy amount of moping, he comes up with an idea. Well, Dustin comes up with an idea, actually. Steve bribed him with nougat and R-rated movie rentals to construct a gameplan.

“And you need Eddie to remember your favorite sweater…why?” Dustin’s mouth is full of chewy candy as he asks.

Steve chucks a raisinette at his dumb hat. “I thought we agreed this was a no questions asked request.”

“You suggested that.” Dustin points at Steve. “I never agreed to it though.”

This is the part Steve despises. If he admits it to others, he has to admit it to himself. And while he’s come a long way since that first day with Eddie, he’s not there yet. His pride can only take so much vulnerability before it fractures completely. “Just… I’m testing a theory I have on his newest memories.”

“Right. And what theory would that be?”

That he thinks about me in kissable ways. “That he remembers more than he gives himself credit for.”

Dustin chugs back his soda and scrunches the can in his grasp. “Okay. Well, the mixtape theory is working decently well with older memories, right?

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“So maybe it can work with newer memories too.”

Steve is lost already. “Meaning?”

“Find songs that relate to you.” Dustin shrugs like duh. He must sense Steve’s hesitation, so he sputters back into his brainy explanation. “Think about it: you’re there all the time -”

“Not all the time, but -”

“Shut the hell up. You’re there all the time, so he must remember the essence of Steve Harrington.”

Steve fake gags. “Don’t say essence, that’s fucking gross.”

“Will you stop interrupting? Jesus christ.” Dustin yells, scrunching the soda can even more with his irritation. “Just make a mixtape with stuff that relates to you. Get his current memories to stick with lyrics and shit.”

Steve twists his mouth to one side. Then the other. “That’s…”

“Genius?”

“I was gonna say worth a shot, but sure.” Steve agrees. “We’ll go with your conceited analysis.”

Dustin finally picks up the raisinette from earlier. Throws it back at Steve. “You should be nicer to me. I possibly just solved your dilemma.”

“I should be nicer to you?” Steve tosses the raisinette into his mouth, despite its questionable duration on the floor. “Dude, you’re never nice to me.”

“Yeah, but it’s affectionate hostility.”

“And that makes it better?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Fine.” Steve rolls eyes, offers a hand to Dustin. “Thank you for the hostile affection.”

Dustin accepts the handshake. He’s overly smug about it too. “You’re very welcome.”

Memory Log: Day 53

Right away, Steve determines it’s a Kathy Day. Eddie is a verbal nightmare already, whining about the dead batteries in his tv remote.

“I’ll get Sam to grab some batteries when her shift starts.” Steve reassures the bitchy entity possessing Eddie Munson’s body at the moment.

“Why don’t you just get the damn batteries?” Eddie bites back. “You have legs, don’t you?”

“You have eyes, don’t you? Of course, I have fucking legs.” Steve can play it this game. Doesn’t want to but he can be just as obnoxious if Eddie keeps going with his attitude. “Please don’t pull this Kathy shit today.”

That simultaneously shuts them both up for a while. Steve begins flipping through one of the outdated magazines on Eddie’s desk, avoiding the escalated atmosphere. At this rate, there’s no fucking way Steve is going to bring up his mixtape. Kathy/Eddie will probably smash it. Roll over it with the wheels on his imprisoning hospital bed.

Eddie clears his throat, speaking softer than he did at Steve’s arrival. “You know… you were sort of a Kathy yourself yesterday.”

Eddie remembers Steve’s weird mood from the day before (needs to check Eddie’s arm notes to make sure he didn’t write that down).

“Yeah well… I’m allowed to be the pissy one sometimes.” Steve doesn’t look up. He just keeps pretending to read the fossilized magazine in his hand.

“Whatever you say, Harrington.” There’s another pause. Just as awkward as the last one. Their dynamics today are clashing harder than their music styles. Eddie breaks through the awkwardness once again. “So… what’s on the brain agenda today?”

Eddie remembers their pop quizzes.

Right. The quiz. The quiz that Steve has no intention of administering today because he’s supposed to give Eddie this stupid mixtape. 

And look, Steve is pretty good at avoiding shit - homework and phone calls and extended family members. He’s good at dodging shit too, like the relentless one-night stands that can never seem to take a goddamn hint.

But this situation is different because Steve would clearly like to avoid the potential weirdness of giving Eddie Munson a gift. However, he’s innately aware that this particular gift could be helpful. Maybe more to himself than to Eddie, but who knows? If Eddie gets his memory tank back on track and Steve gets someone that reciprocates his affections? 

The payoff might be worth the weirdness.

“I actually wanted to contribute to your…” Steve gestures apathetically at the stack of tapes.

Eddie looks over at them and then back to Steve. “Oh you mean, Munsonopolis?”

“Boooo.” Steve heckles him immediately for that.

“You think of something better then.”

Steve thinks about this way too hard. “The Ed-pire State Building.”

“Boooo.” Eddie imitates Steve’s heckling.

“Better than yours.”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone with a sense of humor.”

“Brave of you to call that a sense of humor.”

“What can I say?” Steve clicks his mouth twice and does the most douchey finger-gun bit, blowing out the nonexistent smoke from each index finger. “I’m something else.”

Eddie bites down over his lip, hard enough that it goes white for a second. Doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve while he bares down.

“You sure are, Steve.”

Oh shit - did they just mindlessly segue onto Flirtation Boulevard without even trying? Is it really that natural with Eddie? Damnit, Steve needs to get his mind on the task at hand.

“Here.” He walks over, lays the tape on Eddie’s lap.

“Is this another one from Gareth?” Eddie flips the tape over, studies the back. “Cause I already assured him that I remember the concert we went to back in ‘84.”

Eddie remembers one of his closest friends.

“No, this one is actually…” Just fucking own up, Steve. “Well, I made it.”

Eddie’s eyes do that sequin thing again. Almost turn into disco balls. “You made me a mixtape?”

Ugh. “Don’t get too flattered, Munson.” 

“Too late.”

Steve was afraid that might be the case. So he does his damndest to channel Dustin Henderson. Provide a scientific explanation to his crush-driven theory. “It’s just an extension of our little music experiment. Some stuff that will help you remember me.”

“And why exactly do you want me to remember you?” Eddie does the same lip biting thing from before. He bites harder, and the color stays white even longer this time.

Steve involuntarily glances down at Eddie’s arm, giving himself away.

“Oh.” Eddie stops biting his lip, swiftly lifts the blankets over his arms. Hiding what Steve already knows is there. “Look… that’s just -”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, really.”

Eddie looks down, nodding in agreement. “Right. But it’s not-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder because he can’t. He can’t listen to whatever Eddie is about to confirm or deny. “It’s okay. I mean it.”

He’s not ready for it, for whatever barricade that’s between them to come crashing down. Steve didn’t bring the proper tools to shield himself from raw emotions or desperate declarations of true feelings. And from the way Eddie goes breathless and tense under Steve’s shoulder-grip, he doesn’t think Eddie has the proper tools for that either.

“So you uh…” Eddie peers down at Steve’s hand. Catches a glimpse then abruptly looks away again. “Do you want me to listen now or…”

God no. Steve releases his grip at that thought. “Wait till I leave.” 

“Got it.”

The rest of the visit goes both fairly smoothly. There are only a few lingering particles of awkward tension left behind. It doesn’t bother Steve, not necessarily. The whole day has been kind of all over the place, just like Eddie’s Literary Behavioral Scale. So this uneasy atmosphere is to be expected.

They talk about movies while Steve packs up his things to leave. Eddie asks about all the new movies that have come out since he’s been in the hospital. Steve tells him to make a list of the ones he’s interested in seeing. Tells him that they’ll have a marathon at his place once they’re released to vhs. Eddie says he knows a guy that sells bootlegs before the vhs release date, but Steve shoots that idea down so fucking fast.

It’s not their usual banter, but that’s okay. At least they're talking. Getting along. Tolerating one another at a lukewarm temperature again.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve is met with the most anxiety-ridden face. Eddie’s whole forehead is covered in wrinkles, like that one fancy dog breed that his next-door neighbor used to have. There’s no shimmer in Eddie’s eyes, no disco balls. It’s all just dull. Fearful.

“Sorry if the arm thing made you...” Eddie trips over his words. He pinches the skin between his eyes, makes his even more forehead wrinkles. “I don’t know what’s the word I’m looking for.. Uncomfortable, I guess.”

“Don’t worry. It didn’t.” It made Steve a lot of other things: gutted, determined, confused, sulky, smitten. But no. Worried did not make Steve’s grocery list of Feelings.

“Don’t forget to tell Sam about the batteries on your way out.”

Eddie remembers bitching about the batteries.

Yeah, Steve’s memory isn’t the faulty one here. Even so, Steve reassures him:

“I won’t forget, Eds.”

Day 56:

Wayne had a couple days off from work and took over Steve’s Wednesday and Thursday shifts in the hospital. It’s probably for the best - especially since Steve decided to do the most high school shit ever, and gift Eddie a fucking bouquet in the form of radio hits and plastic.

He’s breaking out from the stress, just marinating on what Eddie’s thoughts might be of the mixtape. It can’t be good. None of the songs are his typical riffs of eternal damnation or whatever. But it certainly sounds like Steve Harrington in a Speaker. So it better help him picture Steve dressed in the tackiest, most burnable sweaters imaginable, goddamnit.

But like, why is he breaking out from thinking about Eddie Munson? Absurd. All of it. The feelings and the acne. His weird little crush is making him regress into adolescent woes and it’s pissing him off.

After popping the zit and crossing his fingers that it’s not outrageously noticeable, Steve sucks in a deep breath, and heads into Eddie’s hospital room.

“There’s my favorite Material Girl.” Eddie lowers the headphones, smiles bonus-level wide.

Steve’s gulps. His face feels like a fucking toaster. “I take it you listened to the tape?”

“I didn’t just listen to the tape.” Eddie picks up the Walkman and smacks it against the side of his head. “I practically absorbed that bubblegum bullshit. Think some of it is still stuck in my teeth.”

Steve plays along, hoping that his face will return to its usual complexion. “You should see a dentist about that.”

“With what insurance?”

“That’s fair.” Steve slides his hands into his jean pockets. He’s so rigid. “So?”

“So?”

“Final conclusion?”

“Oh, I hated it.” Eddie says bluntly. “In a very stick-that-syringe-in-my-neck kind of way.”

“Shocker.” Steve actually expected a meaner response than that.

“Why did you put so many songs on there that use Girl in the title?”

“Hey - it’s not my fault that all of the rich poster child songs are about women.” Steve gets defensive about that one. Honestly, it’s true. There needs to be more music about wealthy guys with genetically flawless hair. Somebody needs to get on that shit so Steve can have more songs that apply to him.

“Whatever you say, man.” 

“So did it…” Steve is still standing. Hovering a bit. “Did it help?”

Eddie sticks out both of his arms, flipping to reveal his forearms to Steve.

They’re blank, besides the usual tattoos and contusions. They’re as blank as Eddie’s arms can be at the moment. No more Steve Cheat Sheet to be found.

Steve exhales all of his relief. “And you remember me?”

“Remembering you was never the problem, Steve.”

“It wasn’t?”

Eddie shakes his head. “But if I ever allowed myself to forget, I…” He taps rapidly over the Walkman. Steve’s Walkman. “I just didn’t wanna risk starting over.”

“Oh.”

“With you.”

The metaphorical arrow, the one Steve has alway seen on department store Valentines Day cards, goes straight through his chest. Eddie aims the words with you directly for Steve’s heart. Punctures that wall he built up after Nancy Wheeler.

The monitor connected to Eddie is beeping faster again. It’s not like that day Eddie was writhing in pain. No, it’s a different tempo.

It sounds like his nerves are conducting the pattern. He’s nervous. Steve is making him nervous.

Or Steve’s lack of response is making him nervous.

But how does Steve respond? Is this Eddie giving him permission to flirt back again? To keep driving down the detour of attraction, take the scenic route?

Eddie’s heart monitor is screaming, ‘say something, Steve.’

But Steve’s archive of failed relationships is screaming, back, ‘don’t fuck this up, dickhead.’

Steve tries to meet the two in the middle. Say something inviting yet keep it simple.

“So… do you wanna make fun of the shitty soap operas together?” 

Steve puts a little emphasis on the together part, hoping it’ll tame the monitor. Make the tones evenly paced. He lets his hand tap once against Eddie’s arm. Right over his newly blank wrist. So clean. No more scribbles.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to check my schedule.” Eddie teases with his words, sure. But his hand lifts up. Tapping Steve back. Twice. “I’m a very busy man, you see.”

Steve shoves him away, laughing as he does it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re not wrong.”

His monitor is ballad again.

One of Eddie’s (many) doctors walks into the room during their third hour of mocking the Home Shopping Network. Eddie has developed an elaborate backstory that they’re all cyborgs who are taking civilian money to grow their army of killer robots. Steve is surprisingly on board with this theory after the second hour. Some red headed lady twitches her eyes way too much to be human.

The doctor runs a few tests, looks over Eddie’s chart, the typical procedure. However, at the end of the visit, he decides to put Eddie on a new medication for his headaches. 

Headaches…

Steve flips back to that first day he started visiting Eddie. Finds the note he passive-aggressively took back then:

Eddie has a headache (that’s not a memory thing - he’s just told Steve a thousand times now).

He fans through the other pages as well. At least two-thirds of them mention Eddie complaining about headaches. How did Steve miss this? How could he be so stupid? He was too busy fantasizing about Eddie’s chest tattoos and making shitty mixtapes, that he glossed over something so significant.

Dustin wouldn’t have missed this. Robin wouldn’t have missed this. Nancy definitely wouldn’t have missed this - hell, she would’ve already cracked the Case of the Missing Memories by now. 

Steve is the wrong man for this job. Not enough brainpower to fix a broken brain.

“Uh oh.” Eddie says. “Where you’d go, Harrington?”

Steve glances up to see Eddie pointing his finger at Steve’s head. “Just.. thinking.”

“Share with the class, please.”

Steve struggles to make his voice sound causal about this. “I should’ve known about the headaches. Paid better attention.”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asks. “Because if you are, we need to work on your delivery.”

“Not joking, no.”

Eddie’s tone is mildly annoyed, still gentle though. “Stevie… that guy gets paid a shitload of money to figure out my problems. Truly - the reason there’s no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is because it’s going straight into that guy’s pocket.”

Steve snorts. It’s even funnier to visualize because the doctor is kind of short.

“What I’m saying is, it’s his job to have a big brain.” Eddie’s eye contact is sharp. Broken bottle to his neck sharp. “And your job is to be my eye candy. Sit there and look cute while I try to not hack up my dinner.”

Steve’s hearing went crackly at all of the compliments. “Eye candy, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

Steve no longer has an excuse not to flirt back. Eddie has his mixtape; his arms are bare. He’s obviously encouraging it, even with the knowledge that Steve is a spoiled brat. He likes Steve, not just the good stuff. Eddie is still willing to pursue this even with Steve’s bad qualities.

So fuck it. Steve is gonna delve into his stockpile of pickup lines. He’s gonna rummage around his hoard of provocative catchprashes. Be the horny pack rat that he was born to be.

“Is the sitting part of my job description mandatory?” Steve leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“Oh, I’m very lenient on that detail.” Eddie’s voice drops lower. “The cute part… not so much.”

“So you’re only keeping me around for what? My great hair? My symmetrical bone structure? My biceps, maybe?”

“Definitely not your humility, that’s for damn sure.”

They share a smile as Steve gets up, inches closer to Eddie’s bed. He reaches out and pinches the sleeve of Eddie’s hospital gown between his fingers. He cautiously rubs it over a few times, waiting to see Eddie’s reaction to this droplet of affection.

Eddie catches Steve’s wrist with his other hand. Mirrors the rubbing motion Steve set in place with the material.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Steve nudges Eddie lightly. “Is this okay?”

And before he can even get a response back, Eddie’s face starts turning grayish-green. 

This happens. Eddie throws up biweekly, so it’s not a big deal at all. It’s just that Steve is usually not laying on the moves when Eddie is about to blow chunks. Honestly, it knocks Steve’s astronomical ego down a few notches.

He probably deserves it.

Eddie is really sick. He pukes three more times, and he starts running a fever after the second time. He’s all clammy and curled into a pillow, clutching it with shaky fingers.

It’s all side effects from the new medication apparently. Yeah, Eddie’s head is no longer splitting open, but his body is rejecting all of the cardboard hospital food.

Steve keeps an eye on him, not that he can do much about it. He gets a styrofoam cup of ice chips so Eddie can chew on it whenever his temperature spikes. He wipes the sweat off Eddie’s temples because one - it’s a nice gesture, and two - it gives him an excuse to be nearby.

The shivering is driving Steve crazy though. He’s so on edge just watching Eddie like this. Eddie keeps making jokes like ‘at least I’ll remember your stupid worried face in the morning’ or ‘damn, my past better be worth all of this.’ And Steve will chuckle halfheartedly each time.

The heart monitor is all jumpy now. Even, uneven, even, uneven. If Steve focuses on it for too long, it starts to sound like he’s driving by a highway collision. A pileup of beeps and tones.

He gets another cup of cafeteria coffee. Hopes the bitterness and chalky creamer will be enough to muffle his hearing. Steer his mind to an empty exit lane.

“What? No coffee for me?” Eddie is under an extra blanket now.

Steve scoots his chair even closer to Eddie’s bedside. “What’s the point? You’d just puke it all up.” He’s pretty lousy at supportive words, isn’t he?

“Aren’t visiting hours almost over?”

“You trying to get rid of me, Munson?”

“Never. Just figured you needed to catch the bus or whatever.”

Eddie remembers Steve taking the bus.

“Robin finally gave me my car back.” Steve conveniently leaves out how he demanded  for it to be returned to him. “So, I’ll stay until they kick me out… if that’s cool with you.”

He places his non-coffee holding hand over top of Eddie’s open palm. It’s sort of instinctual. Doesn’t give his mind a moment to wonder if this is crossing a line. 

Holding hands in a hospital doesn’t mean romance. It never has. People do it all time, no one bats an eye at them either. It’s just a gesture of helpless support. It’s what people do to signify, ‘I can’t heal you with medicine, but I can warm your under-circulated skin just a little.’

But when Eddie’s fingers curl around his own, Steve’s stomach swells like its romance. It swells with hot air, helium maybe. It swells and stays swollen. Stays thermal and full.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to pay my eye candy overtime.” Eddie’s face rushes all pinkish-red. Almost as if he’s trying to combat his blush with humor, but it’s not working. He’s all the colors now. And with or without them, he’s attractive.

“You don’t pay me at all.”

“You got me there.” Eddie shakes a frizzy curl in front of his cheek. A poor effort to hide his flushed face. “I’m a terrible employer.”

Steve traces the grooves of Eddie’s palm lines. Pretends that they form a railroad track. “The worst.”

Once his fever finally breaks, Eddie falls asleep. His body unfolds, his fingers uncurl. It’s a heavy sleep, one that makes him all languid and soft. Any traces of bones are questionable now.

And even though Steve is about to pass out from exhaustion, he doesn’t move his hand from Eddie’s. He’d rather give up his whole arm than move it.

Sam peaks in just before Steve nods off. She lets in the bright hallway light, not too much though. Not enough to wake Eddie. Honestly, not a lot of things wake Eddie up these days.

“Sorry.” Steve yawns. “I overstayed my welcome.”

She shrugs, checks the fluids in one of Eddie’s IV bags. “You know, you can stay the night, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“It’s pretty late… you shouldn’t be driving on the highway at this time of night.”

“Won’t I…” Steve reworks the phrase. Tries to be less selfish about it. “Won’t you get in trouble for letting me stay?”

“Oh no.” She winks. “Because I never saw you here.”

Steve smirks. “Got it.”

“But if I did see you here,” She gestures her head to the door on her right. “I would tell you there’s extra pillows in the linen closet over there.”

Sam deserves a fucking raise. Steve would become a goddamn patron of this hospital just to give her more money. Let the godsend of a woman retire early for christ’s sake.

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve whispers.

“Thank you for keeping him company.” She whispers back. “He’s lucky to have someone like you.”

Steve doesn’t know if that’s true, if Eddie is lucky to have him, but he nods anyway. Gives a gentle wave as Sam heads back out of the room.

He sets the pillow next to Eddie’s leg, keeping their hands connected as he dozes off. Steve falls asleep the same way he used to fall asleep in class. All bent over in his chair, one cheek flattened out on the desk. It’s very reminiscent of that.

Only better because he’s with the guy that makes his chest swell, even when he’s being sarcastic or melodramatic. Even when he’s cobwebbed himself into a maze of cords. Even when he’s bitching about batteries and Steve’s vomit-inducing fashion sense.

Steve thinks maybe he likes the undesirable traits of Eddie Munson just as much as the desirable ones.

And once he’s knocked out entirely, the rhythm of his heart matches the beeping monitor hooked up to Eddie’s chest.

Day 57:

It’s been a long time since Steve has had a decent dream. And this dream he’s in right now? It’s fucking luxurious.

He’s at the hair salon, because of course he is - it’s his home away from home. 

His head is reclining back in that giant sink thing. The one that’s like a soup bowl for hair or whatever. The stylist is shampooing his scalp, scrubbing all of those foamy products into his roots. This is Steve’s favorite part of getting his hair done, he always feels blissed out of his mind afterward.

They keep washing it for the whole dream, digging their nails into his head, dunking water over his hair every so often. It’s downright perfection. A dream he could stay stuck in forever. 

The scenery of the dream flickers out, but the sensations linger as he gains consciousness. His squints both of his eyes open, immediately greeted by too much brightness, too much sunlight. Steve shuts them again, soaking up the remnants of his dream. The hair scratching that’s ongoing even though he’s awake.

Awake.

Steve is awake and can still feel all of that salon paradise. His brain finally wakes up enough to realize it isn’t a dream. It’s Eddie’s hands in his hair, combing it thoroughly.

Fuck, it feels so good too. Steve wonders if Eddie is aware of what he’s doing or if he’s also in that suspended place between awake and asleep.

It doesn’t matter, not really. It all feels way too incredible to care about the logistics. Steve nuzzles deeper into the pillow to hide the happy little hums that keep escaping through his mouth. 

Eddie doesn’t stop. He keeps moving his hand around. Twirling strands and releasing them. Ruffling strands and smoothing them. Massaging the pads of his fingers in all the right places. Every bit of it is dreamy. Better than the dream Steve initially believed to be unbeatable.

Being Eddie’s own personal petting zoo is way better. Miles, light years better. Is there any form of measurement longer than lightyears? Because it’s bigger and better than that too.

Eddie tugs a little harder, just once, but once is all it takes to make Steve melt. He open-mouth sighs into the pillow, hoping the fabric mutes the neediness of it. There’s drool on the pillow and it’s unclear if it’s from when he was asleep or if it occurred just from that one hair tug. 

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice still sounds coated in sleep. “Is this weird?”

Steve shakes his head no, still unable to lift his face from the pillow.

“Should I stop?”

Steve shakes his head much faster. Absolutely not. Stopping should be banished from Eddie’s vocabulary. The word ‘stop’ should be homeless as far as Steve is concerned.

Eddie tugs again, more firmly this time. The tug goes straight to Steve’s dick, which yikes. Humiliating. Yeah, it’s morning and this shit happens, but not this kind of boner. Not one brought on by hair salon fantasies and a metalhead with magical fingertips. This can’t be the reality of Steve’s life right now but somehow, it is.

“I think I combed through all of that cake-up hairspray.” Eddie talks as his hand continues to roam around Steve’s scalp. “Feels like cashmere now, so you’re welcome.”

Steve sighs again, pretty sure it’s much more audible this time because Eddie laughs.

“Embarrassing.” Steve mumbles. That’s all he can muster out without becoming a puddle of humiliation.

“The sounds you’re making?”

Steve nods.

“Oh that is not the adjective I would’ve gone with.” Eddie claws his fingers all the way down to Steve’s neck. “Not even close.”

Steve is all hormones now, all slurred speech and thoughtless words. “So good, Eddie.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie whines, sounds breathier than Steve. “You cannot say my name like that when I’m in a tissue-thin gown.”

Steve wants to sneak a peek, see if what Eddie is suggesting holds any truth. He resists, only because he’s trying to sort out his own tent-pitching problems at the moment.

He gradually lifts his head off of the pillow, back cracking as he straightens his spine out after hours of being shaped like fucking tetris piece. It’s the last thing he wants to do because it means Eddie has to take his hand out of Steve’s hair. But as Eddie pulls away, his knuckles brush against Steve’s ear, awakening this newfound urgency to not let this moment fizzle out.

Steve hops up onto the bed, sitting side-saddle next to Eddie. He looks through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that remind him of shimmery dresses and the backseat of his car on prom night. He looks through to find a reason to stop his actions. Stop his need to touch Eddie’s jawline or thumb over his lips. He’s searching for a reason to stop and finding none whatsoever.

“Do you remember me?”

“You’re Steve Harrington.” Eddie kind of stutters as he says it. “Hometown Slut extraordinaire.”

The nerdy bastard is never going to let that one go.

Steve gives a quiet laugh, leaning in to his impulses. He slides his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, curving around, mapping invisible outlines. A blueprint for his imagination when they’re apart later. “Am I reading this wrong?”

Eddie’s gaze is glued to Steve’s lips as he shakes his head no.

“Good.”

Steve uses his free hand to lift himself up, get closer. Breathing in the same stale oxygen, sucking up the same early morning courage, existing in the same dizzying climate.

He can feel Eddie exhale softly over his skin when there’s a knock at the door.

Steve has never stood up so fast in his damn life. Gets a head rush that’s so overwhelming that his vision speckles out momentarily. 

It’s Sam. Thank god it’s only Sam. But also, screw god for interrupting what almost happened just now. Not cool, sky man.

“Just a heads up,” she starts, shutting the door behind her. “You have another visitor that just arrived.”

Right. It's the weekend.

Steve and Eddie say it in unison. “Dustin.”

Sam hums in reply. “I can stall him for a couple minutes. Give you time to sneak out the stairs that are tucked in the back hallway.”

“You’re the best.” Steve says. “I’ll be quick.”

She leaves, cracking the door on her way out.

Both of them just look at each other for a moment. There’s no time to even discuss the events that just took place. No time to recover the kiss that is already sneaking out the back hallway stairs.

Steve nervously whistles. “So…”

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday.” 48 hours apart seems insane. “Yeah.”

Steve hurriedly makes his way to the door - refusing his horny impulses the opportunity to kick back in and ruin everything. “See you later, Eds.”

Eddie licks over his bottom lip - the one Steve mapped out with his thumbprint. “Later, sailor.”

Um. What?

Steve’s eyes go large. “What did you just call me?”

“Go.” Eddie flashes the wickedest grin. “We’ll talk all about your ocean of flavor on Monday.”

This can’t be happening. “Ocean of -”

“Get out of here already!”

Steve flings himself out of the room, sprinting down the hall. Does Eddie actually recall Steve working at Starcourt? How can that be possible? Steve doesn’t remember seeing Eddie outside of school ever. 

Plus, they’ve never even talked about his job at Scoops Ahoy. Family Video? Sure, that’s more recent. But Scoops? Steve tries to forget just about everything from his time at that seaside shithole.

Goddamnit, this is confusing. The hair foreplay. The almost-kiss. The nautical nickname. Confusing is an understatement. Steve needs to go back to high school and learn a better word for what this is. Confusing isn’t cutting it anymore.

If Steve can make it till Monday without spiraling into a bucket of nerves, he deserves a fucking trophy.

And a kiss on the lips.

Mostly the second option (although a trophy would be nice too). 

[dilfsonic]

Okay so, unpopular take that applies specifically to my Service Animal AU: Shadow and Maria are not siblings/“sibling coded.”

If you’ve read the notes on the original lore post describing them, you probably already know what I mean. While they can and will have moments of inspired ‘sibling’ like love for each other, that’s simply too disingenuous a way to describe them. They’re so much more. They’re each other’s only friend, they’re charge and ward, they can mimic the attitudes of siblings but never fully understand them, they have no romantic interests (until sonic shows up) and so mimic certain attitudes in that way with each other as well. But all of these are mere approximations and mimicry without fully encompassing any of those relationships. Shadow’s “affections” can be easily misconstrued for holding more weight than they actually are intended, as gestures such as hand holding/cuddling/purring are all utilitarian expressions meant to ease Maria’s physical discomfort or anxiety in accordance to his job as her service animal. Nothing more, nothing less. Maria knows this, but others can and do easily make their own assumptions.

I’ve been a little nervous to express this interpretation as I feel it can be really easily misunderstood, and I don’t want to give people the idea that even the immensely “”romantic”” or affectionate gestures or affiliations applied to them are actually meant to be shippy. Their love is an all encompassing one, and to call it sibling-like or romantic are both incorrect, as they’re neither. Ultimately applying any real world label to this au will be incorrect and a little too extreme in either direction; the closest possible relationship that may most accurately describe them is that between a service dog and their owner, if such a service dog was as intellectually capable of their human.

They’re what you get when you’re the only two people in your whole world. They’re what you get when you pair together someone who’s indebted to the other for their existence, which goes both ways. And by normal relationship standards, I would disagree to consider it a ‘healthy’ dynamic, but it also cannot be judged by the milestones of what a normal and healthy dynamic even looks like.

Shadow is nothing without her (in his own mind), and this lends itself to an inability to conceptualize a ‘self’ to even express. Maria hates how Shadow views himself — a tool, a trained dog, a guard, a companion of necessity — but she also can’t avoid using him accordingly. That means having no choice but to treat him not as a person, but as her crutch. Shadow is little aware of her internal struggle with the dehumanization of him because they communicate this almost never. Nor does he mind being dehumanized, he has never been a ‘person’ since the day he was created anyway.

Maria would love nothing more than to call Shadow a little brother, her best friend, someone who she could’ve had take her to prom because nobody at her school wanted to indulge the sickly child, nor did anyone even know her well enough considering she spent most of her time out of school than in it. She’d love to call Shadow these normal things, but she can’t. Not yet at least. Sonic will slowly change them and the way they can view friendship and the world and what it means to belong to each other, but it’s hard work on Shadow and Maria’s part.

They are something that can’t be easily defined, because it’s complex, and messy, and while there are bright moments of wonder and joy, is also overwhelmingly dark in its implications, and they can feel utterly alone even when standing right next to each other. Shadow owes Maria everything, and Maria owes Shadow everything, but each underestimates the full gravity of how their own existence touches and expands the other. They consider themselves worthless compared to the other, and that’s what gets in the way of them truly being able to open their hearts to each other. The way Sonic later teaches them HOW to open their hearts.

So yeah. I hope this concept of blurring the lines doesn’t scare too many folks, but this is based on my personal interpretation of how I feel a continued existence between them in canon or a canon adjacent world might have been like. I know it’s easy and delightful to see em like wholesome siblings — which is also an interpretation I wholeheartedly endorse and adore, particularly the way my bud @ratrrriot draws them (please go follow them if you don’t already, their shadow and maria artwork is to die for!) — but this is just a slightly different and admittedly darker take on them that I hope won’t ruffle too many feathers. Sibling coded relationships between characters are so wonderful, but in this case doesn’t feel satisfying or like it can possibly cover the scope of them for this particular au. I dislike labeling them or comparing them to another dynamic, like Sonic and Tails who are very explicitly brotherly with one another.

I may make a separate post on Sonic’s impact in this world and how he touches the lives of Shadow and Maria, Helen (when she comes along), and this world’s version of Robotnik (Julian) if people are interested in that. I take a lot of inspiration from his characterization in the Adventure games and Sonic X for this AU, as he’s most closely canon-aligned compared to Shadow and Maria who are a little different; though I’m gonna try my best to fit their “canon” personalities into a completely different scenario. Such as, Shadow lacks the innate hatred he has for mankind as he never loses Maria, but he will retain the “my body is a tool” mentality and the general uncaring of others opinions of him, etc.

[cilis-readings]

pac which deity should you reach out to

reminder: these are very general readings. messages can be picked from each pile and apply to you and your current situation. take what resonates, leave what doesn’t :)

just to preface, i work with a few deities regularly and have communicated with several for various reasons. this reading is all in good fun, all of the deities that came through in this pick a card reading were made aware that this was for a collective group of people and they agreed to be included! if you feel called to reach out to any of the deities below, feel free to do so! just be sure you do some research before diving into things — if you need help or don’t know where to start, my messages are always open :)

pile 1

the deity that made their presence known for pile one is the greek goddess selene! she made herself known with the moon card. selene is the greek personification of the moon. she is typically worshipped during the full moon and new moon but she can be called upon whenever you need her energy. she sees everything that goes on in the night and she travels across the sky in her chariot every night, pulling the moon behind her.

she may be helpful in your healing process if you have emotional wounds that still haven’t healed. she can be somewhat cold at times but that’s because people don’t truly understand her and her experiences. she can help you tap into your unconscious and become aware of the tools you need in order to heal. she also brings forth our shadow self, making us face those parts of ourself that we tend to shy away from. her main goal usually lies within the realm of having us let go of the things we truly have no control over. letting go of those things we cling so hard to gives us the freedom to heal and be happy with who we are and what we have.

pile 2

the deity that made their presence known for pile two is the egyptian goddess isis! she chose to make herself known through the temperance card. isis is the goddess of a multitude of things, including but not limited to healing, magic, fertility, and even motherhood. she is a goddess who is fiercely protective over her worshippers and even those who just casually work with her from time to time. she provides a very nurturing environment and makes you feel safe and warm inside.

she can help us hone in on our intuition and help give us the guidance we need to feel comfortable enough to share our intuitive gifts with others. she is also helpful when it comes to making decisions that might be difficult for us to fully comprehend, thus giving us the clarity we need to make the best decision for everyone involved. since she has that motherly spirit about her, she’s also strict when she needs to be. if she catches you procrastinating or losing motivation, she will put you in your place. she allows us to get into the habit of practicing moderation. she is very upfront about not wanting to deal with extreme behaviors or personalities, she wants to promote balance in any way that she can.

pile 3

the final deity that made their presence known is the norse god odin. he chose to make himself known through the magician card. now odin, just like isis and selene, has so many different facets about him but i’m going to try to limit myself for this collective reading. odin is the all father in norse mythology, he is the god of war and death, but also poetry and magic, hence him coming through as the magician!

odin is a great deity to reach out to do just about anything, but my experiences with him have to do with finding my own inner strengths and knowing when to reach out to others. i know that everyone’s experience is going to be different but those are just a few things he helped me with. moving forward, he can help us see what we aren’t seeing, he sees all and isn’t afraid to show us what we need to see. he can also help with learning to trust your own abilities and not having to rely too much on what other people think about. he can help us feel like we are truly capable and competent when it comes to knowing what steps we need to take to get to where we want to go. he also has a more parental aura about him like isis due to him being the all father. his wisdom and skills are very strong aspects of his and they tend to rub off on the people he works with.

if you’d like a more in depth reading i offer paid readings here!! i also have a tip jar if you’re feeling kind,, tips are not expected but they are very appreciated! any feedback is appreciated as well, i hope this reading was helpful to you in one way or another :)

[jqhotchner]

love of my life

one

spring happened to be the best moment in your life. your first kiss was in spring, first date was in spring, first time was in spring, and the man you’d spend the rest of your life with, you met him in the spring time. most importantly you have your first baby in spring.

you and harry couldn’t be happier with your lives. unfortunately all good things must come to an end.

you met harry at one of the first few tours one direction had. your little sister was obsessed with the band. your dad, having amazing connections, bought the tickets and you took your sister to see the band live. your dad had got two backstage passes and you could tell your sister was gonna pass out just by how she looked.

finally getting to meet the boys you didn’t expect to fall in love. but the curly haired boy was beautiful. plus the accent wasn’t all bad either.

you didn’t wanna get ahead of yourself but he didn’t even miss a beat. he asked you out that night. since, you two have been inseparable. falling in love with a pop star wasn’t easy though.

you’ve seen front hand what that could do. your dad, being a lawyer, had many celebrity clients. you had met so many people in your life. and some of them even opened up to you as you got older. and the things you’ve heard.

the hate fans give people simply because they’re dating their favorite musician or actor. you knew if you wanted to be with harry you had to keep your relationship extremely private.

and you have, since the very beginning! the two of you were careful. very careful! no one knew who you were and the media made harry out to be a player.

the truth was you’ve started dating when you were fifteen, he was sixteen, got engaged when you were twenty-one, and got married a year later.

now you’re thirty and you have a beautiful daughter together. and still no one suspected a thing.

until the day you got caught

you two were enjoying each other. it was your first night out since having maybelle. she was currently with her grandparents while you and harry spend a evening out. harry has been planning his tour while filming two different movies.

the two of you rarely get to catch up. you missed your husband dearly but you knew he loved his job. seeing the smile on his face as his fans scream the lyrics back to him. it was something magical.

harry talks about the movies he’s starring in. he enjoyed the cast on both sets. you just loved listening to him. his eyes shining bright.

“babe, you’re gonna love my policeman.”

you hum as you sip your wine.

“what’s that look?”

“it’s just the movies aren’t always as good as the book. i don’t wanna be disappointed.”

harry playfully rolls his eyes at his wife. you just shrug your shoulders. harry continues to talk about the cast. the two of you were too busy enjoying each other.

normally more self aware of your surroundings. making sure paparazzi wasn’t around or a fan wasn’t taking pictures.

today you just wanted to enjoy each other. unfortunately the paps had been called when a ‘fan’ spotted harry on a date with a mystery woman.

neither of you noticed. after awhile harry grabbed the check and paid. he leaves a generous tip before he grabs you hand and kisses the back of it.

you lean your head on his shoulder as you walk towards the car. he opens the door for you before getting into the car himself and driving off. neither of you ready for the storm that’s coming your way.

you weren’t paying too much attention to the tv. it was just white noise while you played with your four month old daughter.

you never knew you could love a person so much until you had maybelle. she was your life! she looked so much like harry. her eyes were even a beautiful green.

she had harry’s dimples as well. you basically birthed a photo copy of your husband. harry kept telling you she had your nose and your smile. but the only thing she had of yours was your skin tone. you didn’t mind though, she was just adorable.

“next topic, harry styles.”

“oh, look may, they’re talking about daddy.”

her head turned when you called his name. she looked at the tv and smiled when she saw her father. her body bouncing up and down excitedly.

“looks like our pop star is in another relationship!”

you roll your eyes. it’s been years and they’re still labeling your husband as a womanizer. sure he had a lot of female friends. but you know all of them personally. plus you trust your husband completely. he loved you and he’s proven that time and time again over the years. you didn’t care what the media thought.

“he was seen on a lunch date with a mystery woman. we have no idea who she is but she sure was cuddled up to the superstar.”

you turned your head and gasped. their you were on tv. how the hell did they find you? you wanted to shed tears. instead you grabbed your cellphone and called your father.

“daddy,”

“i was just about to call you darling. ive seen the news.”

“what can we do?”

“i can try to find the son of a bitch and sue his ass for everything he’s worth. it’ll take some time but ill get it done, baby.”

“daddy, this isn’t—i have maybelle now. i gotta protect her first.”

“i know darling. we’ll make sure she’s safe from any media outlet. have you talk to harry?”

“no, called you first. i—i don’t think he’s seen. he would have called me.”

he was most likely busy filming. you knew when he was done for the day he’d have multiple notifications.

you just knew you needed to prepare yourself for what’s to come. for the sake of your sanity and your family.

[killemwithkawaii]

Hello! I’ve been reading your stuff for almost a year now, and idk if your taking requests rn but do you think I could get headcannons of yan!Sal being your best friend and what that would consist of? If your able to of course. Also I love all of your work! I always come back to read it!

Aw yeah, gotta love some platonic yan~ 💖

Sal as your Yandere Best Friend (forever and ever and ever)-

[CW: Yandere, obsessive behavior, borderline stalking, self-sacrifice, emotional manipulation]

>Sal is extremely sociable and gets attached to people quickly. He’s likely to be the one to introduce himself to you and invites you to hang out with him and his other friends almost immediately. Once you guys click, you go from casual acquaintances to ride-or-die overnight. You’re pretty much stuck with him after that (he doesn’t take friendship lightly!) 🤝💙

>Constantly wants to hang around you, even if you’re not doing anything in particular, invites you along to pretty much everything, and shows up at your place unannounced for impromptu bro time. He just really enjoys your company! Because he's constantly asking what you're doing when he's not there, he knows your schedule and where you are pretty much at all times. He would feel very left out if you mention that you did something fun or important without him. (He covers it up well, ‘Oh, I’m glad you had fun! That sounds awesome, I’ll have to try that out/ go there sometime…’ but you can tell by his mood change that he’s upset about not being included 😞)

>Incredibly generous, always willing to do favors for you without expecting more than a ‘thank you’ in return, and is happy to go out of his way to help or please you. He will literally give you the shirt off his back, if it seems like you’re in need of it. After all, what are friends for? (He of course has his limitations, but you’d have to make some pretty preposterous requests for him to deny you something.) 🙇‍♂️

>Wants to do everything that you do. Take the same classes, join the same clubs, have the same hobbies, listen to the same music, and live in the same house as you, if he can manage it... He wants to appreciate what you’re all about, really get to know you on an intimate level and know who you are at your core. Doing all the same things is a great way to do that and an excellent way to spend more time with you, especially if he can get you to teach him a new skill or you both learn something new together. 🎨📸📚

>Very physically affectionate. He’s always down for a hug and likes to stay within close proximity (almost zero personal bubble, unless you make it very clear you need some space, which he will do his best to respect). He’s not keen on strangers getting to close to either of you, but you guys might as well be conjoined at the hip. 🤗

>Is quick to be your scapegoat and come to your defense. He’s great at lying and coming up with excuses to get the both of you out of trouble (or just get what you want), will always politely yet firmly speak up when you’re slighted, and he never lets anybody get away with being a jerk to you. Sal can be absolutely scathing when the situation calls for it! Assholes get roasted on the spot if they dare to mess with his BFF. (Be aware: He can take a punch, but he’s not much of a fighter, despite his willingness to get into physical danger for you. Don’t let things get too heated or you’ll have to help patch him up later.) 🩹

>Texts you often and at all times of the day because of his insomnia. If something reminds him of you, you’ll know about it. 💬

>Highly sentimental. He keeps receipts, tickets, photos, and other small mementos from the times you’ve hung out together and talks about those memories with a deep, rose-colored fondness.  🎫💭

>Always wants you to talk about your feelings (sometimes to the point of prying), loves it when you tell him your secrets, and plays therapist for you all the time. He delights in lending an ear when you want to vent and when he gets you to spill all those juicy personal details, especially the ones you haven’t really told anybody else about before. Letting him know those things about you means that you trust him enough to be vulnerable and that you two have a really strong bond. He’ll always be there for you, no matter what! ♾💙

[wellwrittenevilbitch]

A friend suggested I do this. I'm submitting an evil bitch that 90% of the fandom would disagree with but I have solid evidence.

This is Takami Keigo/Hawks from MHA and he's probably one of the best examples of someone who has allowed himself to believe he can do awful things and still (try to be) a "good" person, and for the sake of a greater good, and this has ended up causing massive problems in the story. He's framed as a hero with no choice but recent chapters have reiterated that others in his position could make other choices that didn't involve killing people (especially a friend). He's kind of a character of extremes and polarities and paradoxes. He'll do everything to save others, sacrifice himself, and sacrifice his own humanity, for abstract other he has to save, and that ends up meaning there's blood on his hands, which he'll say he's got no other choice. The interesting thing is that he was essentially built up this way and this is where the really good writing comes in. He's essentially a victim of child-trafficking and institutionalization, raised to be a child soldier/assassin/spy and to be so cruel and ruthless even if he's a "professional hero" but as much as he's aware of the cage he's in, he's somewhat grateful for it. The deep isolation he faced as a little child born to criminal, abusive fugitive parents who abused him and kept him so far from t that he didn't understand the basic idea of their world (that heroes are a profession and not saturday morning cartoons) and also instilled a deep self-hatred of himself and his abilities, to the point he calls his abilities filthy and seems to be stuck in this idea that his purpose in life is to be useful to others'. And this is why he's okay (he's capable of feeling guilt and regret but it doesn't mean he thinks he did wrong) with justifying dirtying his hands by manipulating and lying to others and even letting others get hurt for his goals, even if he likes them. One of the climaxes of this manga is him killing a man he believes is a good person, but is too dangerous a villain to let live (killing him ends up not preventing what he wanted to prevent), and even after his death, he has extremely opposing reactions in where he praises the man he killed and says he wants to be like him and then when he sees "him" (or someone using his powers), his immediate reaction to yell that they need to kill him again. And again, shortly after defeat, repeats that the man was a good person.

Anyway, he's an evil bitch, but more in the delusional/in deep denial and "looks too morally grey" for people to call him one. What makes him good is that he's a person who does awful things because he desperately wants to be a good person. Definitely a "well-intentioned" extremist/utilitarian mindset.

also he's soooo bitchy and so very cunt about it, too.

oooh sounds interesting

In!

[gyutarling]

CHASING THAT FUZZY FEELING

txt as my favourite shoegaze songs

♯ — txt x gn!reader ⋆ fluff ⋆ angst ⋆ blurbs

warnings! — cringe, cheesy, not proofread, lowercase intended, extremely corny

note — i'm not completely satisfied w soob's n tyun's T-T notes, reblogs, feedback always appreciated!

YEONJUN — lovely crawl by fleeting joys

"i’m looking for something that’s lost in the light"

yeonjun can be considered what some would call a hedonist. always looking for cheap thrills, things that numb and burn, that die out just as quickly as he does come morning time. everyone knows it, they pity him, and they pity you. you, who despite being aware of yeonjun’s ways, fell victim to his never-ending pursuit of pleasure. he’s here for a good time, you’re here for a long time. you thought you’d be content with the superficial affection he provides, but alas, you long for substance. constantly teetering on the edge of nothing and something, yeonjun only wants you at your best, and your best is when you’re igniting his flame of hedonism. it drowns you— the noise, the strobelights, the waiting. you’re always waiting for more, for something. but on fleeting occasions, when yeonjun’s not even conscious, passed out on the floor from the highs of self-indulgence from the night before, when it’s quiet. that’s when you can crawl up next to him, the physical closeness aids in the illusion of there being something more.

SOOBIN — bloom by glare

"your smile blooms one on me"

to say that soobin is the embodiment of a first love is like saying the sky is blue. but it’s not the exciting, puppy love type that people always say it is. falling for him is a slow descend, that budding feeling that grows, a kind of affection that’s been there all along, it just needed to sprout. soobin is a flower. a flower that opens up when the time is right, and when it is, he brings a soft hue of salvation to your bleak world. you may be fooled, because a beautiful flower can be admired by many, but you know that the blossoming emotions that soobin feels are true to only you. delicate but strong, he can withstand all the harsh conditions that the world rains down on him because you’re here, it’s a mutual assurance. it’s a love that’s gentle and nurturing, in the way that he makes you want to grow and become beautiful just like him. he supports you in every step of the way, with a smile, and it’s all you need, really.

BEOMGYU - mellow by whirr

"always between me and you"

beomgyu is aware of the ephemerality of life. he thinks there’s a certain beauty to it, honestly, how nothing lasts forever. that’s why he would consider himself a simple person, taking pleasure in the little things that make up the transience called happiness. but deep down, beomgyu is afraid. he has been loved before, and he has loved, too. he has loved too much, too intensely— but unfortunately, love is not an exception, regardless of how much beomgyu wished otherwise. so when you came into his life, beomgyu desperately hoped that nothing would take you away, that you’re not just a fleeting moment. no one gets him like you do, the way you just know. beomgyu thinks that you might just actually be his soulmate, because your connection transcends anything words can describe. he’s convinced that he must've been surrounded by cardboard cutouts his whole life, as no one but you has ever conveyed so much depth with their existence alone. monotony is beautiful with you— in fact, he would be content with just laying on the floor in your presence for eternity. so just this once, he wishes for you to be the exception.

TAEHYUN — angel by drop nineteens

"and i believe that dreams come true, cause you came when i wished for you"

“larger than life” is a phrase that would encompass taehyun’s existence perfectly. his genuine love for this cruel world impresses many, as if he knows of a transformative secret that is the key to living his life to the fullest. maybe it’s his vast curiosity, to want to know not only of the wonders of life, but also how he can get back up even after it knocks him down. taehyun believes that negativity is too draining, because of that, being with him is like a transformative experience in and of itself. he must be a higher being, an angel, 'cause even at your lowest, just one hint of a smile from him is enough for you to ascend to the clouds. that floating feeling never leaves you when you’re with him, it swallows you whole, and it makes you wonder how you could feel sad ever again. even when the clouds clear, when you two are at your most vulnerable, under the gaze of the stars, you’ll watch the skies in taehyun’s eyes instead, they shine brighter in there anyway.

HUENINGKAI — how fast can you love by pia fraus

"tomorrow, please love me"

kai has been patient his whole life. his passion drives him, he’s been walking a lonely road to achieve his dreams. he had always thought that he grew up too fast, no time for insignificant matters, kai’s world is a world in which he has to fight to survive. of course, that doesn’t mean that he’s completely immune to youthful desires, and kai wishes for nothing more than to turn back time so he could feel like a real person again, even just for a little while. and when you came into his life— a force to be reckoned with, you are, he thinks that letting himself indulge for once wouldn’t hurt. so he lets his passion consume him this time, and only then does he realise how lonely he has been all along. kai is tired of being patient, and it shows through his complete vulnerability when he’s with you. even though it’s hard, he’s so used to locking his emotions away in his heart-shaped box, you can tell he’s really trying. kai puts every ounce of himself in the potential of your love, because then he would finally have something to hope for, no matter how unsure he may be.

[skeleton-mischief]

Dream Sans

How could he have known? How could a child understand the sins of selfishness? Well, he's now older, and Dream is tired of it all

Headcanons below, please note some things aren't canon to the actual story because I straight up just changed it for my own idea of the AU

- Official height 5'7

- He/They

- Positive nihilist

- The embodiment and King of Positivity. A God if you will

- strict when it comes to the safety of others

- Naturally warm to the touch, he doesn't get hot or cold easily if at all

- Has a staff that turns into a bow & arrow or even a harp

- He dreams of other versions of himself, but can never find them. He wonders if they're even real

- Cries loudly, sniffles and whimpers. He can't stop crying once it starts and he tries to hide his face

- open-minded, carefully optimistic, intelligent, serious, kind, well mannered, loyal, cleaner, creative, assertive, pacifist, honest, patient, charismatic, trustworthy, cheerful, and reflective

- self reflective, he reflects on things about the world and about others

- He holds an air of maturity different than others, due to their time in the multiverse

- He does not get close to others, not often anyways

- He used to follow fate, but grew to revolt against it and even "make his own reality"

- Has a yellow powder that can put others to sleep if they're exhausted already or deprived of it. If they're actually well rested, it soothed

- He can read people very easily, often picking up on body language and details that not even the monster or human is aware of

- He loves any nicknames given to him, he treasures them. However, no one is allowed to call him Sunny

- He feels every emotion others have but can only influence happiness by giving it to others

- He has synesthesia, able to see emotions and even smell them

- He loves the color yellow and so he aims for yellow outfits, but his favorite color is actually blue and purple. It reminds him of Nightmare

- The back of his cloak looks like a scarf in some sense, but it can magically form into wings

- His favorite flowers are sunflowers, poppy flowers, and lilies of the valley. These flowers actually are symbolic of the past for him, and now he can be seen near marigolds. I suggest looking at flower language

- He is always reminded of his brother when the color purple appears, so he sometimes collects jewelry with splashes of it

- He encourages rest for others but he himself struggles to sleep and even resents it to some extent due to his bad dreams. He always has nightmares, never dreams. It's always the same scene, but it changes from time to time. It always ends with seeing his brother change due to the corruption

- He is capable of going into other people's dreams and altering them to something more positive. However, he cannot do this for himself and he is always forgotten inside those dreams

- He doesn't lie unless necessary, since he hates lying in general

- His hobbies are playing the harp and writing poetry

- His favorite snack is bananas or apple pie

- He can't stand being near statues and gets uncomfortable since he has to constantly remind himself that they're not actually sentient in any way. He used to be one after all

- He doesn't understand slang very well since his form of speaking is very formal

- He has a pet owl, but he has to summon it first. It happens to be that of a golden color, as it appears to be that of a magic species

- They have a love for architecture, often fangirling over large and elegant architecture

- He is a bit of a germaphobe, but not to an extreme extent

- Very touch oriented, he learns best through touch and sensations. You won't see him without his gloves, however, unless he's healing

- He doesn't tolerate hatred towards others, as it reminds him of how he failed his brother while he was bullied and terrorized by the village of his past

- He is wonderful with children and loves to be around them when possible, he tends to gravitate towards lonely children in order to comfort them

- He is the best at giving advice, as he has to learn the hard way by being alone for so long

- His relationship with Ink is complex as both were childish when they first met, but that doesn't mean that they grew apart. They don't hate each other or even dislike each other, but when they talk it's usually heavy conversations and rarely a friendly visit

- Surprisingly, he sometimes drinks, it's when he's beyond stressed and he has to drink a lot or use magical beverages to get intoxicated

- He's a workaholic, often pushing himself to his limits since it's all he knows

- He hates small talk since why bother when there's more to talk about, but can manage

- He loves making gifts for others and has excellent memory

- He is practically a Disney Princess when it comes to animals, they just gravitate towards him and hes excellent with them

- Can be up stupid early and trains frequently

- Is the best at acrobatics and flexibility

- Deeply emphatic

- Multilingual, he can speak every language

- He's secretly insecure about his aura, worried that people only like him because of it

- He is nostalgic for apples as it reminds him of his mother, but he doesn't really comment on it since it's not quite a trigger, but it's a sensitive topic since he can freeze up if he thinks too long about his past

- He has claustrophobia and a fear of being helpless, the idea that he can't move or do anything is triggering from when he was going through the incident and was a statue

- Sexless, they mainly just like masc or gender neutral pronouns

- Hates smoking, the smell brings them back

- He barely learned how to read and write as a child, so now that he's the God/Guardian of Positivity, he still struggles. He didn't get the chance to grow those skills, so his handwriting is shaky

- Fire in general is a trigger, he never saw so much in his life when Nightmare was Corrupted. He gets nervous near flames, and the scent makes him lightheaded into a panic

- He is a healer, something he learned after he awoke from the stone. However, he has to wear gloves or else it can overflow into things such as plant life. He couldn't heal the mother tree though, he already tried

- His mentality didn't change when a statue, but his body did. He had to stay in his destroyed world and his mind was altered. He has since then grown, but his mental state is in constant distress because he feels like a child in some ways. He didn't know what he was doing when thrown into the world, but since then he's becoming more and more jaded

- On the aroace spectrum, he doesn't have any sexual attraction but it's possible for a romantic sensation to form

- His magic smells like something akin to green scents such as dew grass, while his magic tastes like sweet citrus such as a flavor of lemon

- He often had a freeze response due to being in the statue, frozen and unable to stop himself as he felt helpless to react. It would only worsen with his own self deprecating nature. It took awhile to improve

- He noticed that Ink only cares about the AU rather than the souls inside, more attentive to the issues there rather than the overall improvement of AU conditions

- He can heal himself pretty well along with others as long as the injury is on a scale of 1-3. 4-5 on the injury level is more challenging. It takes more time and magic, this means that he can actually pass out due to excessive healing

- He follows more of a duty as a guardian rather for himself and finds it his job to fix these AU's. For awhile he just tried to make everyone happy, even forcefully, but as time grew he was able to see how this isn't good. He's better at understanding the flaws of constant positivity

- He's not used to receiving physical affection since he usually is the giver. If he was hugged he'd actually just feel like the sound of Lego bricks falling apart

- He has hallucinations sometimes, especially after waking up, of his bones turning back to stone sometimes. He ends up trying to chip away at his bone in order to remove that stone, panicking and ending up becoming worse. As a result, he covers up a lot and it's why he wears so many layers

- Before the Corruption, he lived with a world lacking technology. So, he only had drawings (if they weren't destroyed) or other natural crafts to remember Nightmare's face. He has kept one drawing that Nighty drew of the two happy safe in his inventory, often pulling it out and reflecting on those memories. He's desperate to return to when he and Nighty were happy, but he knows that's impossible and he feels selfish for it

- He wasn't actually aware of his brother being abused, and in fact he was abused as well. He was constantly pleasing others, pressured, and manipulated by the village because he was seen as something "other." He was scared for his brother, often seeing him in distress. He always offered physical comfort, and in fact he doesn't even resent his brother for what he did. Nighty was just hurt, and he understands that. Still, he feels like he failed him and feels awful for it. He doesn't know that Nighty doesn't actually truly blame him

- He knows ASL and actually had to relearn how to speak properly, he has a bit of an accent and a rasp in his voice as a result

- Finds Ink weird, especially since he doesn't know that they're soulless

- Never learned how to cook, but hes great for natural gatherings and identifying poisonous plants, berries, etc

- the arrows of positivity can kill due to the excessive amounts, its something he only uses with Nightmare as a result

- Excessive negativity can hurt him because of his soul literally turning into a positive apple

- Because his soul is something else in some sense, he actually can't get his soul grabbed by anyone, including Error. Error is one of the only select few that knows this, since he can always tell if someone doesn't quite have a "soul"

- One of the only things that can hurt him is Nightmare's negativity, and he in turn is one of the only things that can hurt Nightmare

- He can make someone "too" happy if he wished, causing them to smile so hard they're sore and laugh to the point of becoming lightheaded and out of breath. He doesn't do it often, but he's capable of it and it's one reason he doesn't feel even close to being intimidated by others. He's actually rather dangerous when he chooses to be, he just decides to enact mercy

- After eons of having his own happiness taken away by him and dealing with negativity more intensely than he did as a child, he slowly didn't realize that he was becoming something else and the only reason he hasn't fallen down is because he ate the last golden apple

- He thought Nightmare died when he lost himself to the corrupt apples, and when he came to, he was stuck in his world mourning the death of everyone. The villagers, the only family he had. He tried to talk to the mother tree even when she was chopped, only to cry when no response was given.

- He was only able to leave his world when Ink found him, but there actually would be a single incident before that where he was found by Nightmare who thought he was the stone that was on the ground and crumbled. It didn't end well

- He hates silence. He hates it because when he crumbled from being a statue, he has never heard such silence ever in his life

Closing Notes: heourgh. Don't look at me, these two have made me genuinely cry before. Don't acknowledge me, don't even know I exist. I love them, always have

[bellysoupset]

Vince and Wendy going out on a dinner date and one of them ends up getting food poisoning

Hi anon! I removed the "out" part, because everyone ignores that Vin is the best cook out of my boys and I'm personally offended. Cook!Vince for the win.

------

"Stop," Vince said in a measured manner, when he felt Wendy press a kiss between his shoulder blades and wrap her arms around his torso, "you're gonna make me spill, little miss."

Wendy's cheeks caught on fire as she heard the nickname and she pressed another kiss on his shoulder, tiptoeing as much as she could to kiss his cheek, "I can't help it, you cooking is sexy."

"Everything I do is sexy," Vince scoffed, bumping his hip with her tummy so she'd stop interfering in his plating of the lasagna, "move out of the way, Wendy."

She let go of him, moving to the opposite side of the kitchen and jumping so she could sit on the counter, reaching for the wine bottle Vince had been using to season the food. She took a sip, noticing he too had been occasionally sipping from it by the way his cheeks were rosy.

"Alright, baby, in the oven you go..." Vince whispered, crouching down to put the large glass tray in the oven and then shutting it gently. Wendy pressed her lips not to laugh.

"I'm jealous, you never call me baby."

He scoffed, moving closer and slotting himself right between her legs, "you're so not 'baby', honey," Vin chuckled, nibbling at her bottom lip and bumping her nose with his, "did you..." he pulled back, "did you have cherry today?"

"Uhm?" Wendy wrapped her legs around him, ankles locking around his ass and pulling Vince closer, "no, a raspberry cupcake earlier when I was out with Bella."

Vince made a small appreciative noise as he could still taste the berries in her mouth, going in for a kiss.

She was excited about him cooking. Wendy had heard the guys talk about Vin's cooking before and she had been told by his sister that he was good at it, but somehow she had never had the chance to actually prove it. Something always got in the way, so much so it was a running joke between them that his chef apron was cursed. Every time he had put it on, something else had happened and forced their attention.

Her stomach growled with hunger and Vin pulled back, all smug, "right on time for dinner."

He had outdone himself. Wendy's mouth watered as Vince served her a large piece of spinach lasagna, pressing a kiss to her temple, "enjoy."

For dessert, it was strawberry gelato and Wendy could've sworn she died and went to heaven, "so they weren't exaggerating about your cooking," she moaned, digging on the bottom of the serving dish, her third serving of dessert, while Vince chuckled, eating his fourth serving.

"Oh yeah?" He said, tipping her chair and causing Wendy to scramble and glare at him. She licked off her lips.

"You want praise? Yeah, this is the best food ever, I'm never cooking again. You can take over the kitchen forever," she sighed happily, setting the dish down and then groaning, pulling on the elastic of her skirt, "I may have had a plate too many."

"No such thing," Vince rolled his eyes, pulling her chair closer with his foot and the movement caused a little burp to slip past her lips. Wendy's whole face turned red as she pressed her fist to her mouth and mumbled "excuse me."

Despite her kink, or maybe because of it, she was hyper aware of every little noise her body made. Tummy growls that she found the hottest thing when they came from Vince, made spikes of embarrassment run down her spine when they came from her. Little burps that turned her on when they were her boyfriend's, made her cringe and want to run when they were hers.

"You're in your head, doll," Vince said, getting up from his chair and kissing the top of her head, "you ate a little too much, so what."

"It's gross," Wendy pouted, extremely self conscious of how her stomach was pressing against her skirt and how she wanted to change in her pajamas, how her body would look. She wanted to be hot and cute and... Attractive. This didn't feel attractive.

"Nothing about you is gross," Vince said, returning to the dining area and starting to load the dishes in the dishwasher. Wendy frowned, getting up and biting down another burp. Her stomach gurgled and she fought the urge to touch it, walking to the kitchen and leaning against the doorway, grimacing as the wall pressed on her upset belly.

"It's not exactly dainty," she said and Vince frowned, as if the thought hadn't ever occurred him.

"Dainty?"

"Yeah, cute. Girly," Wendy grimaced, another burp gurgling up her throat and being swallowed back down, causing her stomach to bubble uncomfortably.

He raised his eyebrows, "eating isn't girly?" Vince closed the dishwasher with his hip, twisting the dishcloth in his hand.

"Being a slob isn't," Wendy scoffed, "cute girls don't overdo it and get upset bellyaches and all burpy and bloated and-"

"Honey," Vince chuckled, "you're the sweetest looking thing I've ever seen and you burp. Big deal," he rolled his eyes, "how come stomachaches are only hot when I'm the one suffering?"

"Because you are hot," Wendy wrinkled her nose as he used the dishcloth as a lasso and looped it around her back, pulling her closer, "but I'm-"

"Shut it," Vince scoffed, cupping her face and stopping Wendy's hurtful following words, "don't you dare say that about my girlfriend."

She let out an unhappy noise, mouth snapped shut by his hand cupping her chin, "it's not pretty-" Wendy mumbled and Vince glared at her.

"You're not a barbie doll, Wen. I don't want you to be one," he pressed a kiss on her mouth, muffling the next words, "stop with this nonsense, honey."

Wendy let out a frustrated sigh, but she nodded, knowing there was no hope for him to change her mind with just a couple of words or for her to change his. Vince wrapped his arms around her, steering them back to her bedroom and she unhappily changed into her pajamas, purposefully picking to pair one of his shirts with her little shorts, since it easily dwarfed her and didn't stick to her belly.

If Vince noticed, he said nothing. She sat down on the bed, muffling a string of wet belches as she heard him move around in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, taking a leak and tying up his hair in a little bun. He had the worst habit of stealing her scrunchies, at this point she was sure he had more scrunchies in his dorm than she did in her apartment.

"No skincare tonight?" Vince asked, throwing himself on the bed with a satisfied groan and kicking off the blankets. Wendy grimaced as a cramp squeezed her belly.

"No, I can make up for it in the morning," she groaned, getting up and going to brush her teeth. As she was doing so, the toothbrush triggered her gag reflex and suddenly all the food rushed up, causing her to brace against the sink, squeezing it as she tried to gulp down the awful burning in her throat.

She vaguely heard Vince say something, as she washed her mouth and face, now with sweat prickling her upper lip. The urge to gag lessened, but the nausea stayed, sitting heavy in her belly.

"What did you say?" Wendy mumbled, coming back to the room and turning off the lights on her way in, so he couldn't get a good look of her face.

"I asked if you want to continue Outlander," Vince hadn't gotten the memo she didn't feel like being touched, because he reached in the dark, illuminated solely by the red Netflix logo on her TV screen, and grabbed her thighs, pulling her to lie on top of him.

"You hate Outlander," Wendy said, hiding her face against his chest and cringing when the position put even more pressure on her stomach. She hoped he couldn't feel her belly gurgling something awful through the two layers of fabric.

"Well yeah, it's historical hot garbage," Vin scoffed, twirling one piece of her hair in his fingers, "but you like the little ginger fella."

"There's nothing little about Jamie," Wendy chuckled, but shook her head, exhaustion hitting her, "I think I just wanna sleep this tummy ache off."

"Do you want me to rub your stomach?"

It was an offer she should have predicted, seeing as she did that to him every time he had even a minor bellyache, but she hadn't. Both desire and mortification flooded her. The idea of a belly rub when it was feeling this upset was hot in theory, but the mortification of Vin being so aware of how gross and bloated her belly felt overrode her kink.

"No, don't touch it," Wendy said and he hummed in agreement, wrapping both arms around her and settling for rubbing her back until he lulled her into an unease sleep.

She tossed on the bed as soon as she was asleep, freeing herself from his grasp and curling on her side. Vince was still awake, watching Modern Family on a very low volume. He could vaguely hear Wendy wasn't feeling well, from the little whines coming from her tummy, but she was asleep, so he didn't think of waking her up.

He should've thought of it.

Vince was chuckling at Gloria's remark on the TV when suddenly Wendy lurched up. In her sleepy daze and nausea, she couldn't make out which way was where, so she turned to him. He heard a soft, delicate belch and then suddenly a flood of liquid covered the blankets.

"Dio-Jesus fucking christ, Wendy!" He jumped out of the bed, not angry but surprised, it took a second before concern had him circling the mattress and sitting behind her. There was no salvation for the blankets, not after that massive heave and so all he could do was hold the hair away from her mouth and rub her back, "oh honey, you really overdid it..."

She hiccupped, then let out a sob and Vince frowned, turning on the bedside table lamp since the tv light was hardly enough. It was a gruesome sight. All beige and sticky, the bits of spinach hadn't digested at all. He couldn't help but gag softly against his hand, quickly pushing the queasiness away as he heard yet another pitiful sob.

"I'm so sorry," Wendy whimpered, "I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean-"

"Shhh, I know you didn't mean to puke on my lap," he teased lightly, rubbing her back with a little more force and causing her to gag again, another mouthful of vomit joining the mess, "get it up, honey, you'll feel better..."

Wendy gagged, harshly and then attempted to wrap her arms around her stomach, something he quickly stopped her from doing since she had covered the front of her top with puke, "hurts Vince..."

"Take a deep breath, amore, your tummy should settle now it got the excess off," he patted her back, "it was just too full..."

"No," Wendy shook her head, "I'm still feeling really sick."

He frowned, but said nothing as she gagged again and even more puke joined the mess. It was frankly impressive the amount she could fit inside of her.

She let out a whimper and he bunched up all the hair in one hand, reaching in to wipe her tears, "shhh, you're alright, honey..."

"This is such a mess," Wendy hiccupped, "and my stomach is still hurting..."

"Are you done for now? Can we move to the bathroom?" Vince couldn't believe there was anything left for her to bring up after those massive gushes, but Wendy looked unsure.

"Help me," she said in a tiny voice and he held her arms, carefully removing her from under the ruined duvet and helping her hurriedly walk to the suite's bathroom. Wendy groaned as she caught a glimpse of her ruined pajama shirt, "that's so gross- I'm so gross-"

"I'm gonna get you a new top, honey," Vince promised, lowering her in front of the toilet, "hold on a second."

He rushed back in the room, grabbing a new pj top for her and folding the ruined blanket, running to stuff it in the washing machine.

"Here," Vince ran back to the bathroom, then cringed as he found Wendy draped over the toilet, the bowl already dirty with vomit, "arms up, doll-" he instructed, carefully peeling off the messy shirt. Wendy let out another humiliated groan, eyes tearing up all over again.

"I don't think the food was right," she mumbled, looking beyond nauseated as Vince manhandled her arms in the correct arm holes. He frowned, feeling a little offended.

"...I- But I ate more than you did and I feel fine..." Vince pouted and Wendy let out a little hiccup, turning back to the bowl and spitting the excess saliva.

"Not yours..." her voice was thick with the nausea, "the lunch-" more vomit rushed up and Vince had to scramble to hold her forehead, so she wouldn't hit it against the toilet seat with the force of her heaves. He felt an odd sense of relief that it wasn't his food making her sick.

"Oh no," Vince sighed, grabbing a handful of toilet paper and wiping her mouth when it seemed she was done for the time being. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheeks and forehead, but indeed she was cool to the touch, "you and Bell had the same thing?"

"Yeah..." Wendy leaned heavily on his touch, wincing, "I need... Fuck, I need some privacy," she pushed his arm and Vince raised his eyebrows in confusion, only to be answered by her tummy growling loudly. He flinched in sympathy, having been in that position too many times to count.

"Take your time, I'm gonna go out to call Lucas, make sure Bells is fine," Vince said, reassuring her he'd be nowhere near to hear any noise, knowing his girlfriend would definitely feel better that way, "shout if you need me."

"Uhummm," was all Wendy replied, squeezing her eyes shut as a cramp hit her.

It worried him to leave her alone, but true to his word he did get out of the bedroom, opening the windows to get rid of the smell of vomit and walking to the laundry room, phone pressed between his cheek and ear.

It rang only twice before Lucas picked it up, despite the fact it was late at a night. A bad sign in itself.

"Hey," Lucas said, voice alert, "I'm guessing you're calling because of Wen?"

"Bella also got it, then," Vince sighed, "how is she?"

"Bella, you wanna answer Vince how you're feeling?" Luke's playful voice travelled through the phone and then a loud whine, causing Vince to let out a snort.

"That great, uh?"

"Amazing," Lucas scoffed, "but I think it's just food poisoning, she's already holding down liquid. I'm not worried... How's Wendy?"

"Sick as hell," Vince cringed, turning on the washing machine and leaning against it, "I'm a little worried, she's tiny..."

"She'll be fine, it's just food poisoning, Vin," Lucas reassured him, voice getting deep as he yawned mid sentence, "look, give her sometime, if she's still sick in the morning then call up Jonah."

Vince bit the inside of his cheek, nodding before he realized his friend couldn't see him, "yeah alright. Tell Bells I hope she feels better soon..."

"I will," Lucas yawned again and then hung up with a sleepy "bye", Bella echoing him in the background.

Vince walked back inside the common area of the apartment, walking back to the bedroom. The bathroom door was still shut, so he knocked, "Wendy? Are you okay?"

"Yes, go away!" she exclaimed immediately and he pulled back from the door, frowning.

"Do you need anything?"

"For you to go away!"

"Ah, okay..." he pouted, "I'll be in the living room."

True to his word, he walked out once again, but couldn't bring himself to sit in the living room when she was this sick. Instead he sat down in the hallway, battling sleep and mentally counting. If she wasn't out soon, he'd go and knock again.

Ten minutes passed with no noise, no nothing and Vince inched closer to the door, poking his head back inside the room, "Wendy, I'm worried-"

"I'm fine!" she exclaimed again, although he was pretty sure she was crying. Vince's heart squeezed.

"Honey, please let..."

Finally the door opened and Wendy stumbled out. Her face was waxy pale and she had pulled her hair back with the pink wool headband she used when doing her skincare. It looked comically out of place.

Vince rushed up crossing the room in two steps and reaching to hold her, a good thing he did because it looked like she could barely stand.

"It hurts, Vin..." Wendy choked up, allowing him to pull her to the bed. Vince let out a whimper of his own in sympathy, helping her get comfortable.

"I need you to drink some water, Wen," he said, sitting next to her and planting a hand on her back as Wendy curled up around him as if he was a teddy bear.

"No," she groaned, "it's just gonna come back up... Or worse."

"Maybe, but you still have to drink," he reached to grab his own water bottle and held it to her mouth, "just one sip," Vince bargained when she wrinkled her nose and tried to pull back.

With some ushering he managed to get her to drink a full gulp, Wendy immediately curling up even more and muffling a sick belch against the pillow.

"I don't want you to see me like this," she moaned, face buried in the soft pillow case and Vince rolled his eyes.

"You're delirious," he joked, leaning in to press a kiss on her forehead, "move, let me rub your belly."

"I'm not feverish," Wendy scoffed and refused to move, her pale and clammy cheeks gaining a pink flush at his offer, "don't touc-"

She never finished that sentence, because Vince scooped her up easily, sliding under her and lifting up the pajamas top so he could plant his hand against her turbulent tummy.

"Excuse me?" Wendy scoffed, but all annoyance melted on her face as she pressed her head to his lap and Vince gently started to knead her belly, "god, this feels horrible..."

"Luke said Bella is already keeping down liquid, you'll be out of the woods soon," Vince said, frowning as he could feel all the angry bubbles under his hand. Wendy had a soft, squishy tummy most days, but now it was bloated so much that it felt hard to the touch, "you should sue."

"I should," Wendy planted a hand to her mouth, muffling a sick belch and mumbling "excuse me."

He patted her ass with a frustrated groan, "there's no point in the belly rub if you don't let the gas out, Wendy," he moved his hand back to where it was, "I'm never grossed out by you, I love you."

She sighed, turning so she could press her face to his stomach instead of being facing away, "I know, it's just... It's just hard... I don't want to be disgusting, I want to be beautiful and I don't think... I don't like you seeing me like this."

Vince slid down the bed a little, running his free hand through her hair, "you are beautiful, Wen. I'm serious, you're gorgeous... Being sick doesn't change that."

She let out a groan, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye and Vince frowned, he knew this was an emotional talk, but it was clearly harder for her to say this out loud than he was taking into account.

"I'm scared that you'll find me repulsive and not want to be with me anymore," Wendy mumbled, as if the words physically hurt her to say and Vince's heart broke in a million pieces.

"I don't like the guy I am in your head," he chastised, cupping her face, and she widened her eyes, scrambling to interrupt him, but Vince pressed a finger over her lips, "I love you. Do you understand that? It means so much more than how you look, honey."

She seemed ready to cry, so she ducked her head, pressing her cheek to his chest, "I love you too," Wendy said in a little voice and Vince sighed, kissing the top of her head, not feeling one bit reassured. He wondered who had convinced her she'd be unlovable if she was ugly.

[yurislilygarden]

Hello, inspired anon here again ✨️

Happy you liked that ask and now it's yours to keep.

There were some details that I wasn't able to include in the skit about the angels thinking about Reader being God's sibling (leaning towards sister obviously) so I'll just include them here. There isn't really any talk about them being self aware and feel free to pick and choose any parts you like for yourself (also there is some easter eggs of a particular game I like, so expect that too).

Emily originally through Reader was God too but realised that they didn't act or sound like the way other people described God which started her thinking that they must be two different beings.

Emily wants to know if Reader has created their own Heaven, Hell and Earth or something completely different and if she could go and see them. She also wonders if Readers Earth would have its own humans, she can't exactly call them Adam and Eve so she calls them Alex and Steve.

Emily doesn't like that Sera stops her from talking to others about Reader, she just wants everyone to welcome this new deity and wants someone to gush over how God has a little sibling.

Emily likes to draw what she imagines Readers 'seraphim' would look like which are basically normal many eyed, many winged seraphim but with insect wings, mainly butterfly and moth ones, instead of feathered ones since Reader takes the form of a butterfly, she draws them in her idea of Readers heaven which involves lots of floating islands under a vast starry sky. She has made Sera and herself 'Reader angelsona' but keeps them hidden.

Sera was 100% sure that Reader was God until Emily's talk. Sera took along time to agree that Reader isn't God but someone else but still is hesitant to actually say that, God does like to test people and she fears that if they are mistaken and Reader is really just God in disguise that they would be harshly punished for blasphemy.

She also worries that if this IS a different God, then what does it mean for heavens future? Is this new God going to upset the balance of the universe? She would be powerless to stop them if they were going to. Good chance she'd think Pentious's redemption is Readers doing instead of God's.

She would eventually give Reader a vague title such as The Observer or The Watcher to distinguish them from The Lord without full differentiating them, just to play it safe.

Adam would claim that Emily, and eventually Sera, are just crazy for thinking that there's another God after the shock of Emily's talk passed. Firmly believes that there is only one divine being, the big G man himself. This is a lie though as he almost instantly believed that Reader is different to God, he should know since he used to talk to God alot.

Adam actually is in hard denial since he's actually extremely worried. He knows one of the reasons God favoured him so much was because he was made in his image, so would that mean you would favour Lillith and maybe even Eve if they were made in your image? He knows that he doesn't exactly have the best history with them and he's worried that you'd believe their telling of events over his, he's seen what happens to those that anger a God and he doesn't want any of that happening to him.

On the other hand, he does still want to meeting Read. He's sure that he'd win them over with his charm once them met and well, he wouldn't mind thanking them for being the blueprint of all women.

Lute isn't really bothered if Reader is God or not. As far as she's concerned, it doesn't really effect her. She has a job to do and as long as Reader doesn't have an issue with it then she'll just carry on just as she's always done.

Sure Lute is curious about there possibly being another divine being and had thought about trying to prepare plans just incase Reader was planning to take Heaven from God but she realised that it would be pointless to try and fight something as powerful as a deity.

Lute is concerned for Adam though. She is worried about how Adam isn't taking the idea of there being a second deity well and is worried that he'd accidentally offend Reader and be punished for it.

St. Peter hasn't been told about the idea of Reader not being God and is under strict order to welcome them as much as possible and to alert Sera of their presence when spotted.

I genuinely had to reread 3 times because I just had no words anon😭 Whoever you are, goddamn bless you, I'm so using your ideas once I get to writing heaven-

I have nothing really to add to this perfection, but I do wanna say that I will still try to keep in mind to use gender-neutral terms, even with the fact that it will imply reader is female because of the image that Lilith and Eve were made from is supposedly reader and shit, I will still use things like 'sibling' and stuff in the works to make it as gn as possible😭