#i wrote this sporadically so I apologize

[soullessdianthus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 | 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐔

❗ APOLOGIES for the tag list in the comments, Tumblr has an issue with tagging more than 5 people ❗

Summary: Victorian AU where you are hired by Lord Simon Riley as his housekeeper in the secluded countryside. Besides the gardener - Johnny, you barely sees anyone around the house and the strange things begin to happen around you. The manor, or rather its residents, hides a terryfing secret.

AO3 link ⟶ 𝕏

A/N: Huge thanks to @starsexplodeatnight who was so kind and sweet to help me with the fashion aspects of this fic. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Also, won't lie, @ohbo-ohno's works and Ghoap dynamics inspired me to go back to the roots and to write some darker, gothic romance with Ghoap and Reader. At least I tried. ╮(￣▽￣"")╭

Warnings: dark themes, religious themes, dubcon/noncon (full list on Ao3)

Word count: 7.6k

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄

Lord Riley’s house seemed to be alive at times. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. 

You hated how untamed your imagination was especially after nightfall, when the darkness creeped in every hollow and corner of the manor. Since the first day, every night you would leave a single candle lit on the bedside table just to ease the vivid imaginations. When you were a child your mother scolded you about reading such profanities about ghosts and curses. 

And now you knew why. If the candle wasn't lit, strange figures danced in the shadows, their eyes imprinting into your skin and if were they real, would they try to hurt you or rather warn you?

But now, as a grown up woman, those nightmares of your childhood came back to haunt you once again. 

With all of your heart you were grateful for Sir Jonathan Price, a friend of your family, who helped you get into Lord Riley’s favour. It was him who wrote a letter of recommendation to make it easier for you to find a good, suitable job as a woman of your status. 

But he didn’t mention once that the manor was so far from civilization. 

Johnny quickly became your closest confidant around here. A Scottish gardener whose brown hair reached down to his broad shoulders and sparkly eyes in the colour of clear sky. He took care of the gardens as well as master’s horses and sometimes you could find him repairing a fence or something of sort. Johnny was a hardworking man, only a few years older than you, but he was also gentle, clever and jolly.

Such an opposite to Lord Simon who was everything but what Scot was – silent, harsh former lieutenant who would rather spend his time in the solitude of his chambers. Otherwise he would go on a ride or hunt into the forest on one of his favourite studs. Simon’s face was pale as a ghost’s and covered with shallow scars, remnants of his service in the army. 

Nonetheless, the tall, portly man seemed to enjoy your presence, if you dared to assume that, purely because you were quick to adapt. Lord liked his silence and you did not want to disturb your master’s peace, wouldn’t you? 

Within a week you have learned the following pattern – each day started with breakfast, which you ate alongside Lord, sporadically noticing the presence of busy cook, Kyle Garrick, who didn’t happen to talk much. Then, you would proceed with your everyday duties. Which did not include sneaking around to go and talk with the gardener, but nevertheless you did.  

And as the evening would finally come, you were sitting in the playroom of the manor embroidering while Mr. Riley was reading his book. Even Johnny was allowed to come sit with both of you, gnawing at the wooden pipe between his teeth. It all felt so domestic in such a short period of time. 

And how could you believe such gossip about Lord’s hospitality, or rather its lacking, hearsay in the city? 

Sundays were always a day of rest. You were sitting in your bedroom on the highest floor, reading one of the novels you brought from home. Too entertained with the story, you blindly reached for the cup of tea standing nearby. The noise of ceramic pot splattering across the floor caused you to tense immediately. 

It shattered to pieces. Such a waste, it was a pretty one. 

You closed the book with a sigh and set it aside, slowly walking towards a storage on this floor. With a small broom in your hand you returned to your room only to find it oddly… clean. The staining of spilled tea on the flooring was gone just as the bits of what was left of the floral cup. 

Almost like it never even happened. 

Your eyes wandered across the chamber, searching for the mess you just made. But every little trace of it was gone. You kneeled down and looked under each piece of furniture. Still, nothing was found, a broken teapot swallowed by the void.

Slowly you retracted from the room onto the long hallway, searching for the maids or signs of their presence. It must have been one of them, right?

— Hello? — You asked with hesitation in your voice, but there was no living soul to answer you back. Not nearby anyways. 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

Coos of the crows and rattle of their wings echoed through the old trees. And although the sky was grey and cloudy that day, no rain had yet fallen. Alongside Johnny, you went for an afternoon stroll down the borderline of the forest, enjoying a minute of break.

— How long have you been working for Lord Simon? 

— A couple of years now — the man reached down the wild grain growing on the field and plucked a single piece. He continued to play with it between his thick digits, brows narrowed as he reflected on his further answer. — He hired and gave me a roof over my head when I retired from service.

— You were a soldier too?

Johnny nodded with a simple “aye” and you smiled.

— What?

— Nothing. Didn’t think such a gentle gardener was once enlisted. 

— Yeah? Didn’t think a pretty lass like yourself would be so nosy. — He smacked the tip of your nose with the stalk he was holding. 

Your cheeks grew rosy and warm, when he paid you a compliment. Not that you were a prude! Actually far from that, but it was just that Johnny was so charming and he definitely knew how to sweet talk to a woman like you. 

— Not nosy, it’s considered rude — you explain to him, fidgeting with your fingers yet a smile is painted upon your face. — “Curious” I think suits me better. Those who spread gossip about others’ affairs and tragedies are the nosy ones. See, that’s the difference. 

Johnny stopped suddenly and took your hand into his palms. He held you gently, almost like you were made out of glass and he, with his admirable strength, could break you into pieces. What a great waste it would be to destroy such a pure soul. He leaned closer to your ear, warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and your heart almost jumped out of the ribcage. Should his closeness excite you so much? Should a grown woman be this rash?

— Only if we were seen by someone, here on the glade, alone. Scandalous — the man mocked such behaviours, while brushing a single strand of your hair behind the ear. — What would they think, hm? 

Before you took a step back, your gaze met his for a brief moment. There was a hint of curiosity and playfulness in his blue eyes. And perhaps something else, something much more obvious than you believed it was. 

Something that made men weak.

— Right, what would they say, Johnny? Who? — You asked him playfully, though your expression was full of sorrow. —  I barely see anyone around the house. I’m starting to believe those servants are some… ghouls living in the attic or they simply avert me so often. 

— Lord likes his peace, they work as if they weren’t there. Just as it needs to be. 

— It’s been some days now and I hadn’t met any of them. You’re the only person who actually talks to me. Don’t you get lonely there?

— Simon’s and your presence is enough for me. And well, it’s nice to talk to Mr. Garrick sometimes. 

— He talks to you? 

The cold breeze danced through your hair, causing you to shiver. Dry and brittle leaves crunched under your soles when the two of you continued to walk down the old pathway. 

— Autumn here is tough, lass, you should have worn a sweater. We should head back home, the nightfall is coming. 

You loathed the cold weather and how freezing the chambers got in the morning. Your first winter in England’s countryside might not be as pleasant as you thought it would be, with cold feet and no one in the manor to warm your spirit up. 

No peers, no guests, no neighbours. Just you, Johnny and Lord Riley.

You stood back in the middle of your quarter, looking at everything and anything at the same time. Each detail like a porcelain vase with flowers or lace tablecloth looked so neat, with no sign of dust it was almost impossible. Many questions were stacked inside of your head. 

Was your chamber cleaned every single day? If so, when did they do it? And why hadn't you even bumped into any of the servants of the manor? Yes, the building was large, but at some point you had to meet the staff, right? 

It has officially been two weeks since you moved to live and work here. Although using the word “work” was far-fetched. You hoped to become a governess to Lord Riley’s children, but that dream was quickly demolished as he had none. So then it was told that you were responsible for the house work, but there was no one to supervise as they were constantly hiding from you. So you were sitting there at the end of the day in a living room, chaperoning your Lord. This time without Johnny.

Fireplace was spitting long flames, popping ashes into the air. The interior was welcoming, when the wind behind the windows grew stronger. A storm was coming. 

— May I ask you a question, Sir? — You had put aside your embroidery set, before finally asking. The blonde man hummed, eyes still transfixed on the lecture he was reading. — How often do the maids come to my room?

— As often as needed. Why?

— I wanted to rearrange my quarters this morning, just to push the bed closer to the wall, but when I returned from the afternoon stroll, it was back in its primary place. 

— Then they fixed the furniture, didn’t they? 

You had a feeling that was not the case. You scratched the flooring during the first attempt, if the staff was to push the bed back to its origins, they would only do further damage. Yet, the wooden planks were brand as new. No signs of any scratches.

Were you hysterical? Was it all your vivid imagination?

— But it’s heavy, my Lord.

— And yet you managed to move it. So did they. 

Lord Riley was grumpy again, his voice hoarse and accent thick. 

You once again took the needle threaded with string into your fingers and returned to the unfinished piece, but the urge to continue pushing him was stronger. You might rather bite your tongue in the future. 

— Maybe I should talk with them and explain that I prefer it the other way. 

— I prefer when the rules of my household are followed. You wouldn’t have such an idea if you didn’t have so much free time.

Your hands dropped to your lap as you abruptly looked at him, slightly offended. And even though Lord tried to conceive this, you noticed how the edges of his lips twitched in a tiny smile. He was toying with you.

Simon was strict. Perhaps he never abandoned the military's rules and drills. He was an adamant man who valued his own comfort. That means, obeying his rules. 

— Come, I might have an idea how to keep you busy.

The Lord of the house rose from his seat. Each time you stood next to him, you were intimidated by his height and solid build. Despite being off duty, he kept his admirable physics of a Greek god. 

At least that is how the books you kept so dear to your heart described the brave warriors. 

You followed the master into his private library and patiently stood right behind him, when he was searching for a certain book. Finally he reached a thick tome in your direction – “A Mortal Immortal” by Mary Shelley. 

— Here, this may interest you — but when you stretched out to receive it, he moved the novel out of your reach. — Ah, ah. What do we say?

— Thank you. For borrowing me your book. 

— However, when I think about it, I’m worried this will only worsen your… troubled mind.

— My mind?

— Johnny told me you worry too much about some nonsense that should not be your priority in the first place. You’re letting this place and its solitude haunt you. Are you of a weak mind, girl? — You quickly understood what he was referring to, so to prove the point you denied the vile accusation. — So, I’d recommend you stop being childish and focus on your chores. Then everything will be alright, understood? 

— I’m not childish.

— Is that clear? — He repeated with much harsher tone.

You nodded slightly, barely visible, but enough to agree with the Lord.

— Now, go to your chamber, it’s getting late. 

His dark eyes carefully inspected your figure. You noticed him staring at your neckline for far too long than what was decent. His coarse hand swiped over yours when he was giving you the book. The cold metal of his signet felt like a thousand sharp stings. 

What kind of game was the Lord of Riley Manor playing with you? 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

The simmering sound of something powerful cracking snatched you from the peaceful dream. Every muscle in your body tensed and you sat up, holding the duvets tight when a thunder enlightened the black sky. Your heart beated fast within its cage of bones and breath shattered, anticipating.

Surely, thunderstorms can happen in late autumn, but you had never predicted it to happen this night. You felt uneasy, when another loud rumble made you scared. Then there was the banging window frame, somewhere in the long hallway and those horrible, horrible whistles of wind. They sound almost like human cries. 

At first you ducked down beneath the covers to shield yourself from the haunting sounds, thinking that the servants would take care of the open window. But minutes passed and they didn’t. 

With a lit candle on a metal holder you walked down the corridor, the flame being the only source of light. 

So when the wind coming through the window blew it off, you gasped loudly in panic – you barely saw your own hands in front of you!

— No, no, no…

You almost screamed when someone placed their hand upon your shoulder and then your mouth. A familiar figure was illuminated by another lighting. You could never mistake those blue eyes for another. 

— Shh, bonnie. It’s me — Johnny whispered, slowly uncovering your mouth. — I heard the fuss. You alright? 

— Actually, no… Did you hear those sounds?

Your hands squeezed the candle holder, when the gardener rushed to close the open window. You shivered, only a thin layer of nightgown covering your skin. You looked behind, checking if you were alone in the hallway. It certainly felt like you weren’t. It had to be the ghouls. 

— What sounds? 

— Howling, distressed cries? Wails? I-I heard them in my chamber. 

— You’re scared of the storms?

— No, that’s not-

— It’s okay to get spooked sometimes — he cut you off and grabbed your hand, slowly leading you back where you came from. — Come, let’s get you to your room.

— Oh, don’t belittle me. — You frowned upon him, yet you doubt he had seen it. You clung to his strong arm like a scared girl, not eager to get lost in the darkness again. 

— That was not my intention. Was just trying to comfort you.

When you finally reached your room, you couldn’t find the strength to let go of his hand. You interlocked your smooth and delicate fingers with his digits.

— Please, Johnny, don’t go. I’m… scared. 

— Of thunder? — He chuckled, petting the palm of your hand. 

— No, this place. Something is not right, please, I–

— It’s okay, you got scared a little, that’s all. You really want me to stay? 

You shuddered when taking a deep breath, calculating every possible consequence of this decision.

This was not right. 

— Yes.

When he stepped inside of the room, a rush of excitement flooded your veins and sank on the bottom of your stomach. Perhaps it was foolish and considered promiscuous inviting a man into your bedroom, but your body and heart desired otherwise. 

Johnny’s presence brought you comfort that you were longing for, his touch ascended your worries to the void and filled the troubled mind with pleasure. Nothing else.

Without a word spoken the two of you moved to the narrow, still warm bed and climbed under the sheets. Johnny captured your head between his hands and pulled in a gentle kiss on the lips. In his performance he was eager, sloppy yet charming. One of his palms gripped your hip through the crumpled material, just as you hooked one of your thighs over his hip. 

Foolish, foolish girl. 

— You’re so pretty — he whispered through the thick air as he pressed his forehead to yours. The curve of his nose filled your bridge as you looked at him from under your lashes. — The moment I first saw you getting out of the coach, that day you arrived, I knew I couldn’t ever let you go, bonnie.

Johnny swiftly moved on top of your lying form, holding that one thigh open. He continued the passionate assault on your lips, carefully rolling the hem of your nightgown up. 

Your body was on fire, everything inside of you screamed this was wrong, but somehow, the sinner inside of you called for him. For his touch, for his affection and his sweet, sweet nectar. 

Only when he started caressing your mound and its slit did you acknowledge where his hand wandered. And although his skin was rather tough  from all the years of hard work, his touch was gentle and surprisingly precise. You gasped lovely. It didn’t take that much of a hassle for him to make you wet and eager down there.

— Oh, Johnny… 

His name rolled off your tongue like honey, a music to his ears. It wasn’t long enough before he was grinding over your thigh with his excited and leaking length. 

— You are what we needed. A little warm sunshine, eh? 

Did you hear “we”?

But before you could ask him, he began stretching your cunt a little bit too carelessly to your liking. All his prudence was gone, as he got drunk on your scent and how you felt around him. Your hand gripped his bicep and your glossy eyes went wide like a scared doe. 

— Johnny, Johnny, slow — you breathed out through muffled whine and the man atop of you stilled. — Slow, please.

He could feel how your heart pumped within your veins. 

— I’m sorry, bonnie. Let me kiss it better — the gardener leaned down to pepper your face with kisses. And when he got to the sweet spot on your neck, you giggled — shh, we don’t want to wake him, don’t we? 

Obviously he meant Lord Simon. 

He set a steady yet bearable rhythm as his hips rolled into you in waves. His chest was close to yours, brushing sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of a nightgown. You were pushed into the cushioned pillow, hair splayed beneath like roots of the ancient tree. 

You felt so lightheaded yet so good at the same time. Sparkling, increasing sensation tickling the nerves and blinding the vision. Johnny was all you could experience in that moment. He was the only thing you could smell, touch and taste, when he was trying to steal the air from your lungs. You fell into the abyss of pleasure quickly, all the latest worries fading away.

And the horribly loud storm? Didn’t matter at that moment. All thunders quietened down and the entire world could be burning in flames and ashes, but you wouldn’t even notice. 

The man moaned deeply from his throat, when he got closer to his peak, hips frantically snapping against yours. You barely managed to entangle your shaking fingers within his brown hair, right above the nape of the lover’s neck. With one more final thrust both of you indulged sweet, sweet pleasure.

Johnny stayed until the morning came, just as he promised. With an expression of pure ecstasy and lust, you snuggled into his chest. He wrapped a pair of arms around you and for the first time since the arrival you felt at peace sleeping in the manor. The candle remained snuffed out. 

In the morning of the following day, you went to the city with Mrs. Garrick to receive the remaining letters and a few other errands. You and the cook split to settle matters quickly. 

The post office was a small place with barely anyone inside but a friendly looking old lady behind the counter. 

— Good morning, I’d like to receive the mail for Lord Riley.

You put on a polite smile, walking closer to the counter and removing the bonnet from your head.

— So you are the new housekeeper, I’ve heard about you. It’s been a while since someone got his letters, guess he still ain’t leaving the house?

— No, ma’am. Lord is rather… — you paused, searching for the right description of your employer — a private person. 

— Always had been, even before he went to war. But oh, that was years ago, I hope he softened at least a little. Such a sad and grumpy boy he was. 

There was something in the way she phrased it that made your body still. Blood got so heated up anyone that touched you could feel it on the outside. Did she mean the previous Lord, father of Simon Riley? But that couldn’t be the case, this title was newly found when he returned from the war. So what was this all about? 

— Forgive me, you said “years ago”? How long ago was it? You see, I’m not from here and the Lord doesn’t share much about himself.

— Of course he does not and do not expect otherwise — she waved with her wrinkled finger, before reaching for the bile of letters from the shelf behind her. — It was around twenty five years ago, Lord Riley was the same age as my son when he joined the Queen’s army.

— I see. 

You were confused, extremely confused. The blonde Lord with scarred face did not look a year past his thirties, how could this be that he enlisted quarter of century ago? At that moment you felt so horrified by this anomaly. 

Through the rest of the day and the day that followed, the old maiden aunt’s words echoed inside of your head:

— I am surprised anyone actually was willing to take that job. Lord Riley is a… forgive me for speaking so freely, but he’s a strange man who abandoned the word of God years ago. Why do you think he got pushed away from the post earlier? 

He was…? 

You didn’t look the same into the depths of the windows of the Manor, nor did you stare at the dark corner of the hall. Every sound of wood creaking sent shivers down your spine. They were coming. 

Oh God, have you gone mad?  

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

You stirred the porridge over and over again, watching as the gooey mush slipped from the spoon down to its den. Despite the tremendous amount of honey you added it still tasted rather bitter this morning. 

— Did you finish?

— Excuse me?

You tightened the hold over the silver spoon when Lord’s hoarse voice brought you back to the eerie reality. 

— The book. I asked if you finished the book? — Blonde man raised his thick brow in question, curiously looking at you from his own plate. 

— Oh, yes, yes. I enjoyed it, however I found Winzy’s life quite miserable to be honest. And tragic.

— Why so? 

— Well, he lost the woman he loved so dearly and then had to continue living eternally without her. Imagine how lonely his life had to be, when he must have outlived every single friend he had made. 

— If he was so miserable as you say, then why wouldn’t he just end his suffering and join the woman he claimed to love? Maybe he didn’t really care after all. — Simon leaned back in his chair, exhaling loudly. — I sometimes wonder what his life would look like if he had given the potion to Bertha. A pair of immortals walking this earth, would they become some sort of Gods?

— Doesn’t the thought of living so long… make you feel… I don’t know, unease , my Lord?

— No. I’ve seen worse things than an old man. Those who fear death might go to extremes just to avoid their end.  

— We were not made to live forever, don’t we? We should not play God.

— There is no God, sweet girl. Only sinners and fools. Those who play and those who lose. Are you a loser?

— No, Sir. 

His dark eyes glowed in a mysterious manner as the silence fell between you two. The man was bright and had seen right through you. 

— Good. If we speak of the matter of sinners, I’d like to make one thing clear.

The Lord stood up from his seat, putting the white napkin on the table. His figure loomed closer toward his housekeeper and finally leaned on one of his hands over you. You could feel his breath on your neck, his closeness made you shiver. 

— You’ve been living under my roof and by now you should know I despite disobedience and liars. 

— I am no liar, Sir. 

— Perhaps not, but you hide things from me. Captain Price spoke of you in high regard - a well behaved woman from a respected family, yet you’ve proven yourself to be rather promiscuous. You even ensnared poor Johnny, didn’t you? 

That… was straight forward. 

— I did no such thing!

Suddenly he wrapped one of his strong hands over the nape of your neck, causing you to tense and lean away from his touch. The man began drawing circles over your skin with his thumb, almost like he tried to soothe your shattered nerves. You gasped at the sudden force he had put you in place.

— Watch yourself and think twice about answering again. 

— It was mutual.

— Mutual? — He repeated mockingly. — Johnny boy would fuck anything that moves in ten miles radius. And it just happened to be you. 

— How dare you speak like this? — You turned your head to look him in the face. When you did, you saw the insolent smirk painted over his pale face. — He is at least decent towards me, he’s kind and caring. We did nothing wrong. Why do you care?

Simon leaned down right next to your face. He continued to stare you down, his brows narrowed in deep disappointment. 

— You’ve built a wall between us, sweet girl. Yeah, you did. If there was something you ever needed, you should have come directly to me, your Lord. And I can assure you, Johnny did not give what you craved and desired. 

Inconveniently your face changed its colour to vivid blush, when he suggested such things. Your stomach felt like one, big knot twisting its way to get stuck in your oesophagus. Was that it? Was this how he perceived you? Was he jealous of the fling between you and Johnny or was he simply cruel?

Lord Riley let go of your pretty neck and caressed your cheek with the knuckles of his fingers. Just like one would touch a lover and another – a pet. 

— You’re frightened. Are you scared of me, is that it? Be obedient and you won’t have to be. Or do you really want to be punished so badly?

You quickly denied by shaking your head to the sides to which he only hummed. His weight shifted behind your back and a trail of footsteps could be heard as the Lord of the house left the dining room.

A moment passed before you caught yourself staring at the bowl of now cold porridge, slowly digesting the conversation you just held with him, your Master. 

The burden upon your poor, poor mind has overwhelmed you and the realisation of a potential madness weighed heavily upon you. Nothing made sense. Not a single logical explanation has come to light to soothe your fears. 

After those couple of weeks the staff and maids stayed in the shadows, Lord’s age did not match the tales of his youth and those horrible sounds you continued to hear at night? Ugh, they kept you awake, causing dark bags to show under your pretty eyes. 

The manor itself seemed to have poisoned you. Was that it? The reason? You knew you had to leave the house as soon as possible. You had to…

Oh God, what have you gotten yourself into? 

That night was no different to those before it. Wind blowing through the crack in the window’s frame, wheezing and whistling. Your bedsheets are exceptionally cold this time, causing you to shiver and tremble. The candle is still burning, a metal holder standing on the table. 

When you finally manage to curl up under the sheets and doze away slightly, you hear this agonising, scary wails. 

Wait. No. 

Those are no wails.

I-Is someone moaning?

You raised up to a sitting position in a half asleep state. Loose strands of hair stick to the forehead as you continue to listen for more sounds. 

Those seem to be almost human-like. Maybe they are? 

You throw the sheets to the side and crawl out of the bed. You’re frustrated and moody, close to tears from the exhaustion of not being able to sleep. Before you left your chamber, you grabbed that damn candle light and took a deep breath. 

Your bare feet left no traces behind as you walked down the dark hallway. The heart in your chest was about to burst, obviously you were still scared of the dark and what possibly lurks within it. The hem of your nightgown sweeped the wooden flooring that cracked underneath your weight. 

Then, you heard those moans again, louder. You were getting closer. Following the awful sounds you finally get to its source. You knew where your feet happened to take you to and that you shouldn’t have dared to enter this chamber. Nonetheless, you did. The shroud of mystery had to be torn. 

You slowly creeped towards the half-opened, heavy doors and sneaked inside where the darkness swallowed almost everything. Single candles had been lit across the room, creating an ascended ambience. You should have turned around and left, you understood that perfectly well. However, you wanted answers to all the secrets of the manor and its habitants. 

Behind the wooden screen there was a large bed and two figures sitting on its edge. Gardener who was completely bare and whining into Lord’s shoulder, drool leaving the corner of his mouth. Thighs spread open and eyes closed tight. And there he was – Lord Simon dressed in trousers and loose, white chemise. His big hand was tightly wrapped around Johnny’s angry cock, pulling and twisting the sensitive skin. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as Johnny whined pitifully again at the sensation. 

At least now you finally knew what those sounds were exactly – that stormy night Johnny came to you, were they also together? You couldn’t move and kept standing close to the screen, eyes transfixed at the scene you witnessed. So many emotions washed over you – were you embarrassed, scared or even jealous? The dots and the facts slowly began connecting. You had to make haste and leave this room. This house. You knew you had to get away tonight, before things would escalate. Oh God, you couldn’t properly breathe, your face and lungs felt like they were on fire!

— Looks like we have company — the coarse voice of a blonde man made your skin cover in goosebumps. He stared directly at you. — Want to join us? 

Unknowingly you made a muffled whine of embarrassment as you swiftly turned around and started to walk away in a hurry. As if you were in some kind of trance, your body going automatically. You rolled up the long hem of your nightgown not to stumble upon it as you found yourself on the corridor again. 

Christ! You forgot to take the candle with you! 

The breathing became difficult as you had to navigate somehow in the complete darkness. A part of your heart felt betrayed by the erotic scenery you just witnessed, although you couldn’t completely understand why. You and Johnny were a one time thing, why would you feel sorry for him bedding someone else? 

Probably because this “someone else” was your mutual employer.

There were heavy footsteps behind you, they were getting closer and closer. He was right behind the nosy intruder. You tried to fasten your pace, blindly going forward, hoping to find a staircase. Then it would lead you downstairs and outside of the building. But before you even made it halfway to the stairs, you bumped into a slim table standing by the wall. The vase standing on it fell and broke as the painful impact of the table's corner digging into your abdomen sent you to the ground. 

When it was clear you were within his grasp, you tried to crawl further away from him, trying to escape somehow. But Simon was faster and he collected you from the floor. 

— Come, before you’re gonna hurt yourself. — Lord Riley said as he managed to lift up and throw you over his broad shoulder with little effort.

You tried to break free by kicking like a goat and punching him with your curled fist. But how could the strength of a city girl ever compare to the former soldier’s? You groaned, you kicked and you cursed. Nothing could have prepared you for the harsh slap that Simon planted on your bottom. It stung, causing you to go still over his shoulder. And when he spanked you again you bit your lower lip, trying to confide any pathetic whines. 

— Should have whipped you long ago. Maybe it would teach you some respect. 

— I didn't mean to interrupt, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, my Lord!

— Oh, you happened to join us just in time. 

Lord Riley took you back to his bedroom and tossed you down onto his remarkably large bed. This time, he locked the doors from the inside and removed the key from the lock. You were stuck there with them. You managed to back up a little, before Johnny reached you. He sat at your side and carefully extended his hand towards your petrified face, a curtain of hair covering your pretty features.

— It’s alright, bonnie. Calm down. 

— I don��t want to be a part of this. — You stated, kneeling on the bed sheets splayed beneath. Simon stood tall with his hands crossed in front of you and the gardener. Johnny gently began to caress your back in a soothing manner. 

You were caught red handed, busted the only chance to run away and now you were more than positive he would never let you go. You tried to conceal the fears and shame, because now was the time to uncover the truth. 

— What is this? — You asked with a shaking voice, eyes transfixed on the two figures of men, going from the blonde to the brunette. — What’s going on? Please, let’s forget about this. I’ll go back to bed. I–I…

— You already are in one — Lord took a step forward and caught your jaw. He yanked your head up, forcing you to look at him. — Have you finally figured it out? I directly gave you clues. Come on, you’re a smart one. Put the pieces together. 

How could you come up with a logical conclusion? Everything you gathered through the weeks could be interpreted as a mad woman’s nonsense. But you weren’t ill, you were aware of the games going around you.

— You’re much older than you look, that’s what I know. And that you’ve done horrifying, unforgivable things during your service. Lord– Simon — you corrected yourself — what have you done? 

— Think. Harder. 

His patience was running thin. Simon spoke through his bared teeth. 

— Oh, God. Are you a part of this? — You looked at Johnny, before the blonde man caught your throat and lifted you on your feet again. 

— Don’t be harsh on her! She doesn’t know better. She needs to learn. — The Scotsman said to your defence, narrowing his thick brows and scrambling the bridge of his nose. All this time he was sitting comfortably on the bed, absolutely not bothered with his nakedness.  

— There is no God here, sweet girl, I already told you. Only me, Johnny and well, you. I’ve been kind enough to share a piece of me with you and that’s how you repay your Lord? In such childish, pathetic disobedience? Fucking nosy, aren’t we? Or just eager? 

The tall, bulky man reached with his other hand and forcefully cupped your crotch through the thin material of the nightgown, causing you to wriggle in his hold. He prodded against your slit with his finger, toying with you, testing the limits and your responses. And you were very responsive. 

In that moment you thought about the choice of literature Simon had given you. The main plotline revolved around immortality and its consequences, which would somehow explain… some things. Yet what about God? Why did Simon detest him so much?

— God turns his back on people like me and once you sin for us, he will turn on you too — he mockingly snorted, before continuing your torment. — If he didn’t already. 

You tried to tear from his hold, shaking yourself and pushing his chest away. Lord Riley stood like a mountain, not moving an inch. In a quick movement he twirled you around and took a firm hold of the nightgown material at your back. Then you heard how loudly the stitches broke and the teared material slowly fell to the ground, exposing your much alive and young flesh.

Before you realised you were completely bare and managed to cover yourself somehow, Simon grabbed your arms behind your back so you couldn’t move further. 

— I think he sent you to us as a gift — the man leaned against your shoulder, whispering into your ear. — Yeah, that’s what you are – a sweet, innocent present. Isn’t she cute, Johnny? 

Brunette finally stood up from the bed and gently caressed your hip. He was standing so close, you could feel his pulsating cock and its leaking tip on your supple thigh.

— Aye, she is lovely. 

— Have you tasted her, boy? That night you sneaked under her covers? — To which the dark haired one denied. — Well, I think you should compensate the little lady, no? Help her calm down, you know how women can get… hysterical. 

— W-Wait, wait, no, n-no… 

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed and placed you between his massive legs. One of his hands wrapped around your fragile, swan like neck and the other cupped your left breast. Meanwhile, Johnny got down onto his knees and moved closer to the two of you and before he dived between your thighs he looked into the dark irises of his Lord. Not yours. 

— He eats like I starve him beforehand. You’re gonna find out, lovely. 

You tried to squeeze your legs shut, but the gardener kept them spread wide so he could lean closer to your cunt. And when you tried anything like moving or wriggling away, Simon would pull or twist one of your nipples causing you to yelp. 

— She’s really pretty — the Scot said, parting your lower lips apart. The shame washed over you, causing your head to turn into Simon’s shoulder. — Never could have pulled such one while in the army. 

Then he flatten his tongue over your most sensitive parts and started dragging it along the slit. You entangled one of your hands within his brown strands of hair, on top of his head pulling slightly. When his lips sucked at your clit you finally moaned, releasing some tension and anger within you.

— Bird’s already singing.

Simon purred into your ear, nuzzling his eyebrow ridge into your head. The feelings and sensations you were experiencing overflowed your system. The man you trusted as your lover was assaulting your cunt with his mouth and the Lord you were supposed to work for was enjoying the show. You pressed your eyes shut, trying not to cry. But you finally broke and the salty streams began to run down your rosy cheeks. 

— You think she deserves to cum, Johnny? — To which the kneeling men nodded vigorously. — Use your words, stupid mutt. 

— Please, Si, let her. Look how stressed she is. Poor thing, she might need a few more.

— A few- Ah! M-More?! — You squealed again, when someone rolled your nipples between their fingers. 

When your peak neared, you tried to turn your head away and hide. You didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing your face in pure bliss. Simon held your head against his sternum, pressing your forehead backwards. 

You felt like you were on fire, orange flames licking your fingers, your breasts, your inner thighs. 

— That’s it, good girl. 

And when the knot finally bursted, a wave of painful, white pleasure washed over you. The orgasm was so strong, it blinded your senses for a short moment in which the men flipped you around the bed. 

Johnny was supporting your shoulders and your head, while Lord was stirring in front of you. He threw your legs over his thighs and scooped closer to your still wet with saliva crotch. And not only with that…

The new wave of panic overwhelmed you when Simon began to undo his trousers. He was taller and bigger than the gardener in every aspect, you were scared. Taking two lovers, without marital vows? Does this make you a whore? But you didn’t want this!

— No, no, no… — You weeped sadly, trying to crawl away, before Johnny began to caress your head. His grip was tight and successfully held you in place. 

— After tonight, we’ll be joined as one, bonnie. Just us, here in this house, forever. 

— But I-I don’t want this, Johnny! Please, let me go. Let me go.

You repeated as Simon pulled you by the hips closer to him. His now exposed, thick cock stiffened over your soft abdomen, leaking some precum. 

— Shh, Simon knows what’s best for us. He knows. 

When the tip of his length caved his way inside of your warm, silky walls, he was at least decent enough to take it slow. If you felt full during that first night spent with Johnny, this time it seemed even fuller. With his flesh, Simon filled you to the brim, still not even moving. The man saw your struggle to relax, so he leaned down and sucked the thin and delicate skin below your jaw. 

Meanwhile Johnny brushed your hair backwards and with the other hand he caressed your ribs. Somehow they knew how to press each individual button to make you docile enough. 

They learned how to tame you. 

Only then, Simon began to move his hips, thrusting slowly and continuously fastening the pace. His movements made you sway along Johnny’s knees. Your breasts bounced within the rhythm and your eyes searched for them through the half absent haze. 

You got lost in the moment, every breath merged with another. Hands roaming over your body, whose owners you couldn’t really assign, the burning stretch in your cunt that began to lube itself to ease the friction. 

The pleasure that crushed over your sensible thinking, put you in an almost ascended state. You were still sobbing, when Simon fastened his pace and his cock penetrated you deeper, kissing your cervix. You were still trembling, when the two men started making out above you. Their lips crushed in a vulgar exposition of their affection.

— Can’t you see that you’re lost without us, lovely? — The Lord’s voice shaken as he was getting closer to his climax. He leaned down and kissed you, almost stealing your breath away. 

— Wouldn’t last without us, would you, lass? 

They continuously somewhat mocked you and each time after they did, they cooed at you or leaned down to “kiss it better”. By the time Simon finished inside of you, groaning loudly, he spilled the warm seed inside your walls to, as Lord claim, “make you theirs”. 

— Don’t worry, we got you now. We’re gonna take care of you. Just let us… get familiar first. — Johnny said calmly, when the blonde was massaging your tense things. You knew they weren’t yet sated. 

That night you happened to lay over one of Simon’s bulky arms like a pillow. He caged your body from behind, his chest pressing tightly against your spine and Johnny laid on his side in front of you. Through a half awakened state you managed to look through the window that faced the treeline. An edge of forest shrouded in thick, morning mist. 

Tonight you finally were able to put the pieces together. However it was too late anyways.

The house seemed to be stuck in time and space, so were its residents. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. Every aspect of the building stays the same, untouched and reclusive for many years to come. 

You finally let the heavy eyelids close. The sun was rising.

Obviously very inspired by Ghost's music and Crimson Peak, here is Spotify playlist ⟶ 𝕏

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Just fluff, heart-wrenching fluff

Notes: Okay, so. Last Sunday in my most graceful hour, I dislocated and subsequently fractured my thumb🙂 I also hated what I originally wrote and spent all week re-writing and re-writing this scene. I hope this isn’t trash and you guys like it, I’m so sorry for the delay on this one🥲

Word Count: 1614

Series Masterlist

• April 1st, 2006 • Home •

Reader

Ten o’clock on the dot, as promised, a knock on the front door draws me from my reverie. I’d spent the last 30 minutes after getting ready, lost in my head on the couch. Surely today’s talk with Jasper won’t end badly, god I hope not.

Swinging the door open, my eyes snap to his and a smile takes over my face on instinct. “Hey.”

“Good morning, darlin’.” The way his accent wraps around that familiar term of endearment will always make me weak in the knees.

He almost completely blocks my view but bright yellow behind him just barely snags my vision-is that?

“Did you-?”

“Borrow my sister’s apology gift? Yes, it’s a little bit too wet for a bike ride, sweetheart.” Turning to look at Alice’s car, he misses the blush heating my cheeks at the memory of the last time I was on his motorcycle, holding him close.

“Fair enough.” I turn to snag my coat from the hook near the door before closing and locking it.

His outstretched hand helps be down the front stairs before leading me to the passenger side of the beautiful Porsche. Beautiful is an understatement for this piece of machinery, I hate to even ruin the floor mats with my wet shoes.

“Alice chose her gift wisely, Edward did good.” Jasper chuckles slightly at my comment as I lower myself into the seat and he shuts the door gently, cocooning me in silence momentarily until his door opens.

“What she did for him - to save him, this was the least he could do.” Watching him start the car, I realize it’s a manual transmission.

He smoothly shifts it into reverse to exit my driveway before shifting again to leave the neighborhood. My brain stutters a little as I watch him maneuver the car, god - is everything this man does going to be ridiculously attractive?

“Where are we going?” I manage to drag my gaze from his hand and I’m caught, he smirks like he fucking knows.

“Since everyone is home, we’re going somewhere with privacy.” A shiver trickles over my skin quickly even though I’m wearing a coat, somewhere with privacy.

Excitement begins to bubble up in my chest and I opt to watch the trees as the pass by quickly outside my window, trying and probably failing to hide my own smirk.

Jasper

Easing the car to a stop, I watch as the realization of where we are dawns on her.

“Our spot!” A breathtaking smile overtakes her face as she turns to me quickly and I’m stunned, it’s like I’m staring at an angel incarnate, gorgeous.

I chuckle and exit the vehicle, excitement and pure joy flow from her unmitigated and I smile to myself, letting her emotion wash over me like waves gently lapping at the shore.

I barely graze the door handle with my fingers before her impatience at my lack of speed flings the door open. The moment I met her quickly flashing through my mind before I catch the door, stopping it from snapping back closed in her face. “Darlin’-” I tease her, but I’m not the object of her focus.

“This view really is unfair.” Her voice is gentle as she brushes past me and closes in on the railing at the edge, protectiveness flaring in my chest at her proximity to danger.

Sporadic, gloomy clouds dot the ridge line, but the scenery is bathed in a wetness from the rain that highlights the deep tones of the forest. The air is crisp and humid, clean but also heavy with the scent of drenched wood.

“It is.” But I’m not talking about what’s beyond, I’m looking at her.

She turns at my comment and realizes my words since my eyes never leave hers, a warm blush floods her face and I quickly remove the distance between us, my finger under her chin to stop her from hiding bashfully.

“No hiding from me, not this beautiful face.” I whisper as my eyes dance along the planes and contours of her. Her joy increases tenfold and I swear it gives me a new life, she gives me new life.

I kiss her quickly even though it goes against every fiber of my being not to take my time with her mouth, but we’re here for a purpose. For a conversation long overdue.

Jasper

Taking a deep breath and a step backwards to keep my head on straight, I dig down to my very core - somewhere no one else has been, and begin.

“To know me is to hate me - to hate me like I hate myself. I hate what I am at a cellular level. I can’t be a normal guy in love with a normal girl. I can’t allow myself to be caught up in you, your scent, your touch. I have to keep myself in check, I can’t let my thoughts or feelings run away from myself with you near. I can’t seduce you in ways I wish I could without the fear of hurting you.” A deep breath in and out, my throat is raw for the first time in a very long time, like the words bubbling up are burning. “And because I hate what I am, I hate who I am. I’m a monster that killed without complaint or a second thought for so long. It withered away at my soul, at my very core. It changed me entirely, I can’t rewind and get that version of myself back.” I swallow hard. My fingers run furrows through my hair, my skin is fucking crawling. “So how am I supposed to let you love someone like myself? How do I tether an angel like you, to a demon like me? How do I ask you to compromise yourself to fit into my world? Because you have to bend to me, you have to keep my secrets and give up so much of a normal life just to be mine. How do I ask that of the person I hold in highest regard? In the chance you choose this life, choose to change - you’re giving up on moving forward, having children, grandchildren, growing old with someone you love, staying in the lives of your loved ones, the list goes on and on and on. You could potentially come to resent me and darlin’, I wouldn’t survive that.” I pause, letting the words ruminate.

I feel slightly human again, breathing like I’ve run for miles. And I have, I’ve been outrunning this horrible inner monologue for one-hundred and forty-three years. Alone.

Until now. Until her.

Reader

I-I’m stunned. He can’t possibly think all of these things about himself, not this absolute gentleman, this tender and kind man?

“To get to know me-to love me, is a death sentence. I’m a walking liability, I’m not safe. With everything I’ve done, I’m a monster.”

“You are no such thing-” he opens his mouth to interrupt, but I’m quick to stop him. Giving him an encouraging smile I ask, “Let me get this out?”

His eyes are desperate and hanging on for dear life waiting for what I have to say.

“To know you is to love you, Jasper. You are so many things, but a death sentence - a liability, isn’t any of them. Nobody is safe in this world and I’m certainly safest when I’m with you.” Happy tears prick at my eyes as I dredge all of these feelings up, words he should’ve heard a lifetime ago. “And above it all, you. Are. Not. A. Monster. In any shape or form, Jasper Hale. You had a master manipulator as a creator, and she twisted you until you couldn’t take it anymore - until you had to run away. Monsters don’t feel remorse, regret, or empathy. This right here - what you’re feeling when you look inwards, is proof enough that you are not this terrible horrible thing incapable of giving or receiving love.” I smile up at him, so relieved to get this off my chest, “And if the last six months is anything, it’s proof that I don’t want this life if you aren’t in it. It’s insanity to even suggest that I could love anyone else a fraction of the amount that I love you, even more so to insinuate I’d ever build a life with anyone other than you. So no, I don’t care about any of those things, not if I can’t have you.”

I can see the racing thoughts behind the storm in his eyes, the war my words have waged on the inner monologue he’s had for most of his life. I don’t expect to change his way of thinking instantly, but all I’m looking for is just a ripple, a slight shift in the tide, something to work with and build over time because I’m not fucking going anywhere.

This man deserves someone to fight for him and I was meant to dawn this armor.

Jasper

“You have to know that you have an out, you don’t have to do this.” She’s stepping forward to cup my face and the depth of her eyes has me in a trance.

“I’m already all in, I’ve been in since the moment I met you. Stop offering outs, no amount of harsh truths are going to scare me away. It’s me and you.” She says it with such conviction my breath stutters.

“Me and you?” Unreal, this anchor holding me to earth, this angel willing to brave this life with me.

“Always.” She confirms my fate - our fate, like a simple fact. Short and sweet, just like her

Next

Taglist Part 1:

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[chaifootsteps]

something else that just occurred to me

when Blitz gets drunk off his face and has to be brought home from the party by Loona, it's framed like a problem because she has to take care of him. as far as parenting goes it's his worst misstep outside of his over protectiveness and smothering of her, but it's at least a momentary blip on his part, and the rest of the time he's supportive, loving and puts her ahead of anything else (something Stolas could stand to learn a thing or two about). we also see in Ozzie's he calls to let her know when he'll be home late - she's old enough not to wait up but he still does it as a courtesy

Stolas meanwhile is about to down a bottle of absinthe at the party before he sees Blitz again, then after Ozzie's is shown waking up after being passed out drunk on his floor

then again in Apology Tour he gets drunker than we've ever seen him

but when Stolas does it, his drunkenness is never framed as being all that bad or as costing him anything. The question "don't you have a daughter to get home to?" just never comes up. And Via is 17 - an older teen but still a teen; she's not 20 like Loona is and she clearly desperately needs some attention from Stolas.

With the night of Ozzies/The Circus we at least know Via was with her mother, but what's the excuse for Apology Tour? what would have happened if Via called Stolas for help with something after Ozzie's the way Loona called up Blitz? And if she's with Stella again, is Stolas really letting his daughter still have visitation with her mother now he knows for sure she tried to kill him? Is he that dumb?

But as far as the writers are concerned Via stops existing as a concern whenever Stolas is supposed to do something most parents would think twice about, because they know they have someone who's dependent on them. They don't think the audience will think this reflects poorly on him because the writers themselves haven't thought about it at all

instead his drinking is yet another thing used by the writers to get across how sad he is - both times he drinks himself into oblivion it's after a fight with Blitz and the viewer is pretty clearly supposed to judge Blitz for "making" Stolas do this by not loving him enough (or at all, tbh). It's yet another yucky parallel between Blitz and Stella, since the other time he starts drinking is at one of her parties. To the writers any emotional pain Stolas has is of the same intensity: whether being demeaned by his wife or rejected by the imp he'd been using for sex

it's the same with his anti-depressants: there's little to no examination in the text about how depression, like alcoholism, is negatively affecting his life. fans keep theorizing his bad reaction to Blitz actually having feelings in full moon was because he was shown to have run out of his meds, but even assuming they wear off that fast we don't see any difference in how he behaves to how he is normally. And given how self-centred and unempathetic he is normally, I doubt there is a difference tbh. His meds are just a shorthand for how sad he is. because that's what depressed people do, right? just take a fistful of pills on an empty stomach with nothing but alcohol in it? and take them in sporadic bursts so they can run out right when the writers need them to have an excuse for behaving like a gaslighting jerk?

honestly when they finally give Stolas his happy ending on a plate it wouldn't surprise me at all if they just wrote him to be magically cured of his depression and his alchoholism because that's how they think it works

That's a very good point, and one I don't think I've heard brought up before. It's another good example of how everyone except Stolas needs to be on their best behavior at all times. Stolas, on the other hand, is allowed to drink as much as he wants, yell as much as he wants, disregard the feelings and consent of others as much as he wants, and ignore his daughter as much as he wants.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that they could show a scene of a younger Stolas getting drunk and forgetting to feed Octavia and I firmly believe this fandom would either rush to make excuses or try to pin it on Stella.

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

Maybe you’d waited for too long, maybe the book you chose had bored you until you fell asleep. Whatever it was, you didn’t know you were in danger until the last second, a knife pressing against your throat and a croaky voice that wouldn’t normally belong to a kid reached your ears.

Chapter 7 < > Chapter 9

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog, @katrina0-0

Gotham wasn’t known for its beautiful weather; the blue, clear skies the granted wish given to a shooting star. Rather, her citizens were creatures of water and fumes, so accustomed to the rain soaking up their clothes and fog clogging their lungs.

It was only fitting the sporadic sunny days had ended that moment, the light drizzling had turned into a downpour, caging you in the gazebo, the vines coiled around the posts and the roof frame welcoming the rain.

Sitting down on one of the patio chairs, with your legs leaning against the railing, you watched the water fall, your breathing in sync with the droplets falling from the ceiling onto the tip of your shoe.

One hour had turned into two, the rain long gone but the clouds still as ominous as ever. You debated between heading back inside the manor, your thin shirt ill-suited for the cold that the rain had left. However, you couldn’t do it.

And how could you? What had you given them besides problems and pain? Making it known their lives were not real, their whole existence did not hold a single drop of significance, with people having no issue with killing them, even if they were just children.

A hand spurred you out of your thoughts, hoping to see two gems looking back at you, however, even though you held a special place for her in your heart, you couldn’t mask the disappointment in your face at seeing Cass standing next to you, a first aid kit on her hands.

“May I?” She gestured to your bandaged wrists. With your reply a simple nod, she sat down next to you, leaving the box on a wooden table, and taking out whatever she needed to clean you, internally hissing at seeing the bottle of alcohol. You had never been able to handle pain. Even less to the degree they all had become accustomed to due to their night life.

Your reddened skin was exposed to the world, the cuts healing well, a part of you hoping for Cass to decide they were good enough to not need cleaning, nonetheless your hopes didn’t last long, as the cotton balls and alcohol was the first thing she grabbed.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” She asked right before pressing the cotton to your right arm, a groan coming out of you.

“’Bout everything my world did to yours. Dick’s parents, Bruce’s parents, Tim’s negligence, your abuse… Jason’s death.”

Cass was silent for a second, calmy changing your bandages, not a single emotion on her face. There was rarely one if she didn’t want it to be seen.

“You wrote the stories?”

“No.”

“Is our world shaped by yours?”

“… I don’t know”

“Why are you apologizing, then?” You opened your mouth to explain once more why— but it came out empty. “Even if we only exist because of you, you did not choose to hurt us. You chose to love us. Despite our flaws and… Traumas, yes, our traumas.”

“But you suffered so much—”

“By people who have no relation to you. Yes, we have suffered, but… I like my life; I have a family who loves me. Despite my up… Upbringing. I cannot imagine living without them.”

It was the most you’d heard her talk in once sentence. Silence befell the two of you while she finished changing your bandages, asking if she could also look at the cuts you’d gotten on your back when you were dragged across the floor.

By the lack of use of alcohol, you assumed nothing major had happened, feeling the fabric fall down your skin once again.

Did it matter if you knew if it was your fault or not, when the person you cared about thought it was?

-

With having been on the manor for only a week, the safest choice for you was to stick to the areas you knew how to get back to your room, being mainly the kitchen, the drawing room, and the library, the latter being the place to find you at the moment, looking for a new book to chase away your boredom.

As well as hoping to run into Jason.

---

Maybe you’d waited for too long, maybe the book you chose had bored you until you fell asleep. Whatever it was, you didn’t know you were in danger until the last second, a knife pressing against your throat and a croaky voice that wouldn’t normally belong to a kid reached your ears.

“You have ten seconds to tell me what you are doing in my home before I end you.”

“I’m from another universe.” You blurted out, chiding yourself for saying the least favorable response to your case.

“Tt.”

This was it. You survived an encounter with the Scarecrow only to die at the hands of a ten-year-old.

“Damian!” The hand faltered, the tip of the knife grazing your skin. “Leave her alone.”

“I have never seen her, Grayson.” From how distant the voice sounded a second ago, he must’ve turned his head to face Dick. “She could be a danger.”

“You’d never seen her because you were in San Francisco.” Dick calmly explained, taking the very sharp knife from his hand as if it was a daily recurrence, not a single show of worry on his body. “She just got here couple days ago.”

With no blade to threaten you, Damian walked around the couch, standing next to you, a scowl on his face that seemed more than a natural expression than one directed at you.

“Nice to meet you, Damian.” Your hand thoughtlessly moved upwards your neck, a drop of blood staining your finger, but he heeded no attention to you.

“I see. And may I enquire what is she still doing here? Why has father allowed her to stay? What is this about ‘another universe’?”

“Ah, shit… I knew I forgot something…” Dick rubbed his neck, sitting down on the settee in front of you, eyes glued to the floor.

Damian finished rounding the couch, standing in front of Dick, his stance was rigid, and his face devoid of any emotion, but the subtle way he was rubbing his thumb and pointer fingered showed he was nervous.

“What is it, Grayson?”

“Dad’s missing, Damian.” The rubbing stopped. “We believe he was sent to Jane’s world.”

Damian stood still for several seconds, so rigid he could be mistaken for a gargoyle.

“And what have you been doing to rescue him?”

“We’re working on it. Tim already—”

“Tt.” Damian interrupted him, crossing his arms. “You have that fool working on it? No wonder you have not made any advancements.”

“Actually…” You finally spoke, drawing the attention of both. “He’d already created a portal to my world, only… Well, I touched it and it closed. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.”

Damian huffed, but the frown turned into a raised eyebrow, face turning once again to Dick. At least he wasn’t completely ignoring you.

“Is it safe to assume she…?”

“Yes, she knows about our identities.” Dick’s tone was the one of an older brother forced to watch over his siblings; tired and in need of a long nap.

“Hm… You better watch who you talk to. I will end you if you do anything to harm my family. That includes revealing our identities.”

With a fond exhale, you looked him straight in the eyes.

“Yeah, I know, you’ll kill me and make me suffer, yada yada. Why don’t you go out and play with Goliath or something?”

“How do you—?” He stuttered, for once his stoic nature crumbled for a second. You laid back, arms resting on the back of the couch and a smirk on your face. Oh, you so enjoyed looking like a badass, enigmatic villain right now.

Even if you were only doing so to bother the kid.

“I know some stuff, child.”

“Who’s Goliath?” Dick asked.

“No one.” He hastily replied. And so, Damian left, not before sending a heated glare to you, your fingers splayed open in a childish wave as he walked away.

---

You weren’t the world’s greatest detective, but it still didn’t take long for you to realize Damian was watching you closely. The first days you hadn’t noticed, but the unexplainable feeling you got ever since he came home made sense once you caught him hidden on the top of the bookshelves through the reflection on a mirror.

And of course, with him being the son and younger brother of the world’s greatest detectives, he was bound to be spectacular as well, knowing you’d caught him just seconds after you did it.

“How did you know?” He asked, jumping down from the bookshelf, landing neatly without making a sound.

“Bout what?” You asked, comfortably laying down on the window nook, a new book in hand, and Alfred’s signature Earl Gray tea in the other.

“About Goliath.” He calmy walked towards you, but you had the feeling he could pull out another knife anytime, the Batman-themed band aid on your neck proof of that.

“I told you. I’m from another universe. Hasn’t Dick explained it to you?”

“He did.” His gaze lowered to the book you were reading, one of Jason’s favorites which wasn’t Pride & Prejudice. No, he didn’t know you knew that about him. “But it still does not explain how you know something not even father knows.”

“I just come from a world where… Well…” You bit your lip, you had no idea how Damian would take this information, and what his reaction would be. “You are, well, comic book characters, you know? Just stories and all.” Should you be worried or glad he didn’t seem to react to that? “And there’s this one story of you sparing Goliath when he was a pup. Everyone knows how much you care about animals.”

“I do not—”

“Save it, kid. I know it, and it’s nothing you should feel compelled to lie about, it’s a truly noble cause to care so much for beings that sometimes can’t defend themselves against the cruelty that is humanity.”

A subtle pinkish hue tinted his cheeks, the smallest of smiles on his face, but his gaze unfocused at the same time his smile disappeared, lost in his own memories.

“Yes, people can be cruel sometimes.” He took a deep breath, turning his gaze towards the ceiling for a second before it landed back again on you. “Your world… We do not exist in it?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted. “That’s something I’m trying to figure out, but I’m not as smart as your siblings, I don’t know how this all works. I got a few theories, but I’ve no way to test them.”

“It is safe to assume you read quite a lot about us.” He spoke calmly, more a statement than a question, surprising you how better he was taking this than the rest of his family. “I have noticed specially, how… Interested you are in someone. I know the books you have been choosing” He gestured with his hand to the one currently resting on your raised legs, The Taming of the Shrew, your finger saving the page you were on. “, are those Todd enjoys the most, however you do not display signs of enjoying them, most of the times staying on the same page for longer than you should. Unless this is the result of an affliction? Dyslexia, perhaps? I am sure Grayson would be glad to help and find a professional.”

“I am— No, I’m not dyslexic.” You did not like where this was going, ashamed the rest of the family would discover your slight crush on Jason. Were you that easy to read? Did they already know?

“Hm. I know you choose to spend your time here when Cain or Drake do not drag you someplace else.”

“Why are you telling me this, Damian?” You blurted, it seemed he had inherited his father’s annoying habit of not speaking clearly whatever was on their minds.

“If you are infatuated with Todd, I will let you know he left the manor the day after I arrived. If you are hoping to run into him here, you are wasting your time.”

Huh, that explained why you hadn’t seen him at any meal.

“Why are you telling me this?” You asked again.

“I will not tell if you do not say anything else about my life to my family.”

“Are you— Are you blackmailing me?” Your scoff brought a smirk on the kid’s face, a huff leaving your body. “You little shit… Fine, I won’t tell anything about you. Not sure what else you could want to hide, anyway…”

“I shall be monitoring you closely, still.” He was just about to leave the library when he turned, sheepish and rubbing his thumb and pointer finger again. “What is your name?”

“You can call me Jane.”

[welcometogrouchland]

I love Steph's origin as told in the Secret Origins 80 page giant- I just overall think it strengthens her character by giving her a lot of pathos and adding to her heroism (which isn't something writers were focused on in her actual intro in detective comics #647 since she was just meant to act as a plot device back then) BUT there is one tiny detail in it i will begrudge, and that is the portrayal of her having a minor love at first sight moment for tim

Secret origins 80 page giant, ID in alt

(or well, technically this was their second meeting in that story (the brick was the first) so...love at second sight?)

Mostly because Stephanie showed no interest in her introduction and only showed romantic feelings towards Tim AFTER this moment here:

Robin (1993) #4, ID in alt

Straight up the progression here goes:

The adventure in 'tec where they first meet -> Tim investigating the same crime scene as Steph -> she beats him up not knowing it's him at first, apologizes but says he shouldn't have scared her -> he remembers her/the moniker she goes by -> they talk about plot for a few pages -> Stephanie starts flirting

Robin (1993) #4, ID in alt

Which...is so fascinating to me and says so much about Stephanie. She highlights the fact that Tim "remembered" her. Like. Steph. Girl. This is our bar? It's sweet but kind of speaks to how much Stephanie is ignored at home/how little and sporadically she's shown interacting with her peers (and rarely ever the same kids twice). Her idea of peak romance is just...being on someone's mind even when you're not there.

Kind of also adds layers to Steph's proclivity towards jealousy later on, a manifestation of her insecurity and loneliness (though don't get it twisted, she's not written this way bc Dixon and co think it's an interesting character flaw, they wrote it bc they think it's an inherent character flaw of (particularly young) women/girls, which is very apparent in how he approaches Ariana's character as well from what I've read)

Also the fact that Steph becomes so smitten for Tim almost immediately after this is (a few issues later she aggressively flirts with him during AN ACTIVE HOSTAGE SITUATION. WHERE SHE'S THE HOSTAGE) again is kind of a mixture of kind of funny and sad. One boy is nice to her once and she's fully ready to wife him. Girl you are deranged (affectionate) (concerned)

[kiskyz]

"The Upper Hand"

honestly the reader is kinda like sampo... anyways i hope you enjoy!!

TW: general yandere stuff

“That’s another 300,000 Oneiric Shards gone.” Bronya rubbed her head. “I don’t think I have to explain why this is bad.”

Gepard lowered his head in humiliation, “My apologies Lady Bronya.”

“I have a lot of faith in you Captain Gepard, but my patience is dwindling.” Bronya sat down. “Arrest them.”

Gepard put his fist over his heart, “Of course Lady Bronya!”

“You’re dismissed.” She said tiredly.

Gepard said his farewell before leaving. A few other guards followed him chatting quietly.

“I’ve never seen anyone besides that odd blue-haired guy, outrun the Captain.”

“I know, even Lady Bronya is getting annoyed.”

Their whispers weren’t unheard by the skillful man in question. Despite the disrespect, he couldn’t argue with them. Everything they said was the truth.

You.

You’re always causing chaos around Jarilo-VI, costing hundreds of thousands of Oneiric Shards in damage. You even dare to leave behind notes at the scene of the crime.

Gepard’s fist clenched just thinking of those little pieces of paper. They’re clearly just there to annoy him, but he still always reads them. The subject of your notes varies from puns about the crime to talking about him.

Another thing that you do that gets under his skin is when he just misses you and you wave him goodbye. Sometimes you’ll even strike up a conversation with him.

After months of analyzing you and your crimes, he has been able to somewhat accurately guess when and where you will strike next. Although there isn’t a clear pattern, there is one.

He walked to his office as irritation started eating away at him.

What gives you the right to think that you can continuously commit crimes, leave behind as much evidence as you please, and get away with it?

He sat down at his desk and pulled out the folder with documents and notes on you. He had to try and predict your next actions.

Gepard isn’t dumb, but he’s not the smarter of the twins. So when he got stuck, he sought out Serval. She helped him figure out your hidden pattern.

When he thought of the pattern and this last crime he realized something very important.

-

-

You’re a very sporadic individual. Most of the things you do are on a whim and it's the same with crime. You didn’t dream of being a criminal, but one day you thought it might be fun, so you tried it.

You weren’t surprised when you got on the top wanted list. In all fairness, you’ve committed numerous serious crimes. You may even be considered a terrorist.

Sometimes you’d stay behind and watch from a distance as the authorities arrived at the scene and that's when you saw him. Captain Gepard.

At the time he looked to where you were but you luckily ducked behind a wall to avoid being seen.

As time went on, you thought it’d be fun to tease him a bit. Crimes were fun, but it was getting a bit boring and despite his high ranking, he’s a bit dense.

So you wrote notes on pieces of paper and sometimes even on the wall/ground.

Now at the present, you wonder where to go next. You don’t like going to the same location, but you’re running out of options. You debated yourself a bit and decided on the most obvious place.

The train station.

“The most obvious place is the most entertaining!”

-

-

-

You blinked a couple of times, completely mentally removing yourself from the situation at hand.

You’re chained to a chair in a cold interrogation room. A blonde man stared you down across the table you were sitting at.

“Haha Captain Gepard you got me all wrong!” You sweated.

“Do I?” His voice was cold.

“Y-yeah! I’m actually sort of a… vigilante! And if you let me go I swear I’ll stop!” You tried to sound convincing.

Gepard stared at you blankly and you made an apologetic face.

You wondered what was going through his head.

He finally moved and left the room.

“Hah?!” You huffed.

Maybe you can manage to get out of these handcuffs while he’s gone.

-

-

Gepard smiled at the guards outside the room, “Tell everyone to go home early to celebrate finally capturing the criminal who caused us such a headache. I’ll finish everything here!”

“Captain Gepard! Are you sure..?”

He nodded, “Make sure to tell everyone else.”

“Of course!”

The 2 guards walked away.

Geprad stood outside the room, waiting till he thought everyone was gone.

When he finally caught you after so long, he realized something. Despite all the frustration and annoyance you’ve caused him, he’s become enamored by you.

He finally enters the room when he’s sure everyone is gone.

He walks to where you sat.

“W-what can I do for you, Captain!” You sweat.

He had an odd expression on his face.

“First you can stay in the handcuffs.” He quickly grabs your wrists before you have time to react.

“Haha, would you look at that! I didn’t even notice…” You looked away.

You were once again, handcuffed to the chair.

You expected all of this. This was all according to your plan. Definitely…

“What did you expect was going to happen?” Gepard sat on the table in front of you, his eyes looking down at you.

You rolled your eyes, he was so dramatic.

A hand came at you with force, only to land on the chair, just above your shoulder.

“Gepa-” You began.

“Captain Gepard.” He said.

“Ok then, Captain Gepard! You-” You were once again interrupted.

“Did you really think you’d get away with all those crimes. With all those jokes.” He said annoyed.

You shook your head, “It’s all a misunderstanding!!”

“Why leave the notes?” He asked.

You held back your smile, “Well…“

He slammed down a note next to him.

You shifted your body to read it. When you read the text you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Read it.” He said.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow and smile. If he asked how could you refuse! Though it was a bit odd how his voice hasn’t been holding a clear emotion, anger or annoyance.

“You’re pretty pathetic to not be able to catch me. Are you really the captain?” You couldn’t read it with a straight face, barely holding back your laughter.

It wasn’t that it was super funny, it was just the memory from when he first read it. His hands had tightened their grip and he threw it on the ground.

When you first saw his reaction you cringed, but you also realized just how much of an advantage you had over him. You were much smarter and always one step ahead of him.

“Sorry! You see these notes were just-” You remembered the fact that this man was the one who had you in custody.

A hand grabbed your jaw, lifting your head up to meet his. He had gotten a lot closer, faces centimeters apart.

“Who has the upper hand now?” Gepard leaned in.

[lilacura]

Drift | Miyawaki Sakura

pairing: kazuha x reader , sakura x reader

>wc: 1.8k

sypnosis: in a world consumed by fame and shattered dreams, you find yourself caught in the whirlwind of a relationship neglected for the allure of success. But when all hope seems lost, an unexpected source of solace emerges in Sakura, your girlfriends' bandmate.

Things used to be so good between you and Kazuha. You remembered first meeting her at one of her early band practices with the other LE SSERAFIM members. Her skills on the guitar and soothing vocals instantly drew you in. After building up the courage, you confessed your feelings and were overjoyed when she felt the same.

Kazuha was devoted in the beginning of your relationship, always making time for dates and staying up late chatting on the phone when busy schedules got in the way of seeing each other in person. She wrote the sweetest songs that were inspired by your love. You proudly supported her at every concert and event, feeling like the luckiest girl to have an up and coming star as your girlfriend.

But as LE SSERAFIM's popularity grew, Kazuha seemed to grow more distant. Practices and recordings stretched later and later into the night. Your anxious texts went unanswered for hours, then whole days. When you did manage to see her, she was distracted, constantly checking her phone for updates from her manager. More than once, plans you had made got cancelled last minute as she had to prioritize work.

You tried to be understanding of her hectic new lifestyle. After all, this was her dream and you didn't want to hold her back. But it was like you barely even factored into her life anymore. Simple affectionate gestures stopped, then meaningful conversations. Being in a long-distance relationship was taking its toll, yet Kazuha didn't seem to be trying very hard to overcome the challenges.

One particular free evening, she once again cancelled plans to meet up without much of an explanation or apology. Frustrated tears filled your eyes as you paced around, feeling lonelier than ever. That's when there was a knock at your door.

"Sakura? What are you doing here?" you asked in surprise when you opened it to find Kazuha's bandmate and friend. She must have sensed something was wrong, as sympathetic eyes looked back at you.

"I know things have been rough. I figured you could use some company," Sakura said gently, holding up the pizza and movie she brought. Her thoughtfulness caught you off guard in that moment. Before you knew it, you were pouring your heart out about everything with Kazuha while she listened supportively.

A weight felt lifted getting it all out in the open. Sakura understood better than most the toll the idol life could take and didn't make excuses for Kazuha's behavior. She simply comforted you with a hug. When had you last felt so at ease just being with Kazuha? It was in that embrace you realized how much you had really been missing human affection and care.

From then on, Sakura continued to be there for you in the ways Kazuha wasn't. Long talks over coffee, taking you out on fun dates, simple gestures like bringing your favorite snacks. Before long, your gratitude toward her grew into something more that made you question everything. Was what you had left with Kazuha even a meaningful relationship anymore if she couldn't be bothered to put you first?

As the distance grew and Kazuha's busy schedule continued to strain your relationship, the cracks became more apparent. Communication became sporadic, and when you did manage to talk, it felt forced and distant. The once sweet gestures and affectionate moments were replaced with a coldness that left you feeling isolated and unimportant.

One evening, overwhelmed by your emotions, you finally mustered the courage to confront Kazuha about the state of your relationship. With a heavy sigh, you looked into her eyes and said, "Kazuha, we need to talk. I can't keep going on like this. Our relationship feels so distant and one-sided. I feel neglected and unimportant to you."

Kazuha, sensing the seriousness in your voice, let out a deep breath and responded, "I've been working so hard to pursue my dreams, and I thought you would understand that. This is just a temporary bump in the road. I can't believe you'd just give up so easily. It feels like you don't love me as much as I do you."

Your frustration grew as you shook your head. "It's not about giving up, Kazuha. I've been trying to make it work, but it feels like you don't even see how much you've been hurting me. I need someone who will prioritize our relationship, not just brush it off as a minor inconvenience."

Kazuha's expression turned defensive, her voice tinged with anger. "This is unfair! I've been doing everything I can to juggle my career and our relationship. You're making it seem like I don't love you as much as you love me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to convey the depth of your emotions. "It's not about measuring love, Kazuha. It's about feeling valued and cared for. I need more than just empty promises and excuses. I need actions that show me you're willing to put effort into us."

Kazuha's defiance remained, her voice growing more defiant. "I can't believe you're making it seem like I'm the one in the wrong here. Maybe you're just not as committed as you claim to be if you're so quick to leave over a rough patch."

Your heart ached as you wiped away tears, realizing the disconnect between your needs and Kazuha's understanding. "It's not about commitment, Kazuha. It's about respect and emotional support. I can't keep sacrificing my own happiness for the sake of a relationship that feels like it's crumbling."

“y/n right now is not the time to talk about this, maybe after i’m done with the new comeback.”  Leaving you in the room alone.

Dumbstruck, you sat there, the weight of Kazuha's words pressing heavily on your chest. Her dismissal and departure left you feeling abandoned and unheard. The room felt suffocating as the reality of the situation settled in.

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you - hurt, confusion, and anger. How could Kazuha prioritize her career over the crumbling state of your relationship? It felt like a betrayal of the love and commitment you had shared.

As you sat alone, tears streaming down your face, you couldn't help but question everything. Was your love not enough? Were your needs too demanding? The self-doubt crept in, adding another layer of pain to the already wounded heart.

A part of you held on to hope things would change if you just gave it more time. But one night when you scrolled through Kazuha's Instagram live to find her completely engrossed in a flirty interaction with a famous actress instead of responding to your texts, that was the final straw. 

You knew then it was time to let go.

Though it hurt to end things after so long, an immense weight was lifted at the same time. You realized your self-worth shouldn't depend on anyone who didn't treat you right. And maybe, just maybe, you had found that in someone else all along without realizing.

At their next band practice, you worked up the courage to tell Sakura how you really felt.

Your heart was pounding as you approached Sakura at band practice that day. So much had led to this moment after the turmoil with Kazuha, but were your feelings for Sakura really more than just comfort in hard times? There was only one way to find out. 

The others had gone on their break, leaving you two alone in the studio. Sakura glanced up with her warm, gentle smile that always set you at ease. "What's up? You seem nervous about something." You took a steadying breath.

"There's something I need to tell you. These past few months with you have been really special," you began hesitantly. Sakura remained quiet, watching you intently with care and concern. Her attention gave you courage to continue. 

"When we're together, it feels... right, in a way nothing has for a long time. You're always there for me without judgment. And I've come to realize, what I feel for you is more than just friendship."

Sakura drew in a small gasp, eyes widening slightly as your confession sank in. Your heart sank too, fearing you had just ruined the best thing in your life right now. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Please forget it, I don't want things to be awkward between us—"

"No, don't apologize," she interrupted softly, reaching to take your fidgeting hands in hers. Her touch was soothing yet electrified your nerves all at once. "I feel the same way about you. I was just too afraid to admit it." 

A wave of relief and elation rushed through you at those words. Sakura returned your happy tears with her own, and you embraced tightly, all the tension and uncertainty melting away. All that remained was the joy of knowing your feelings were truly reciprocated, and a bright new future unfolding before you both at last.

A few months had passed since you and Sakura admitted your feelings for each other. Being with her felt like the missing piece you never knew you needed. She was attentive, caring, and made you feel truly seen in a way Kazuha had stopped doing. 

When the paparazzi caught wind of your new relationship, it caused a media stir as the first out couple in the K-pop world. LE SSERAFIM's fans had mixed reactions, but Kazuha's response cut the deepest. Instead of being supportive, she gave shady interviews implying you had betrayed her trust. 

It was an awkward time during band promotions when you would visit Sakura, having to face your ex frequently. Kazuha gave you the cold shoulder, while Sakura did her best to diffuse tensions for the group's sake. You knew you would run into Kazuha eventually when the members all gathered for practice.

Stepping into the studio, you braced yourself as glares met you from across the room. Before things could escalate, Sakura took your hand for reassurance. "Just focus on me, okay?" she said gently but firmly to the group. You nodded, trying to push aside old hurt feelings. 

Their practice went somewhat smoothly at first, until a break where Kazuha cornered you alone. "I can't believe after everything we had, you would throw it away for her," she spat bitterly. You took a breath to remain calm. "You threw us away first when you stopped caring. I found real love with Sakura."

Kazuha scoffed. "Real love? She'll just abandon you too when it's no longer convenient." Your patience wore thin at that cheap shot. Before you knew it, words spilled out about all the loneliness and neglect you had suffered in silence. How dare she question your relationship when she gave up on you first?

Sakura must have sensed the tension, appearing to diffuse the situation. "That's enough, we should get back to practice." Kazuha shot daggers but stormed off, leaving you in tearful silence. You felt Sakura's comforting arms around you. "You did nothing wrong. I'm here, always." Renewed by her love and support, you knew in time the wounds would heal.

a/n: y/n in her homie hopper era

[cherikdogfood]

Ask game.

AU College Single father!Erik and Professor!Charles Dadnetp. Adorable child Lorna. Forbidden relationship. Sexual tension. Age difference.

Thank you so much!

@fullcatkryptonite First of all, thank you so much for the ask! I like getting prompts/asked to make summaries like this!

Secondly, I apologize in advance if what I'm wrote isn't what you had in mind.

Lastly, I wrote a summary based on the tags you made and I'm posting it here, and it's pretty long (I'm sorry, I can't write short things). However as I wrote the summary I had the idea for a full-blown fic and I actually started writing it. If you like the summary here, I'll be sure to write the actual fic for you! or, alternatively, if you want you could use the summary and write your own fic, i don't mind.

I can't give you any promises to finish the fic asap (my wips are glaring at me, plus i haven't finished my fics for cherikweek2024), but i'll do my best (if you want me to write it).

Sorry for rambling. Anyway, enjoy the summary below!

#AU College #Single father!Erik #Professor!Charles #Dadneto #Adorable child Lorna #Forbidden relationship #Sexual tension #Age difference

***

Charles is a professor at a university, and while he flirts a lot, he draws the line at dating his own students. He knows many of his students like him or have a crush on him (thanks to his telepathy), and he may flirt a little sometimes, but he won't ever date his students. He knows things could end badly for him (and the student) if they start dating, plus, the university would not be happy about it. 

Meanwhile, Erik is the single father of Lorna, who is around one year old at this stage. Erik and Magda didn't plan the pregnancy, it was more of a one night stand for them, but when Magda told Erik about the pregnancy he was ecstatic.

Unfortunately, Magda passed away at childbirth and Erik (who has always wanted a family) doesn't want Lorna to be raised by others or thrown into a foster home. Magda's parents are upset that their daughter is dead and kind of blames Erik for it, so he isn't close to them.

Erik is doing his best to juggle between being a father and attending university -- one of the classes he attends is taught by Charles.

Charles notices Erik because Erik's attendance is sporadic (this is because Erik has to take care of Lorna when babysitters aren't available, plus Erik is working two jobs in his spare time), and yet Erik's grades are really good. Other than noticing that Erik is hot and smart, Charles doesn't really notice that much.

However, things change after an incident in the park: it's Saturday and Erik takes Lorna to the park, and he sits on a bench with her on his side, and Erik is floating some metal objects and Lorna is giggling. Basically they're having a good time, but then a mutant hater (I shall call this person Karen) sees Erik's actions and starts screaming/cursing, basically making a racket.

Erik is upset, of course, and he gets more and more angry when Karen says, "Is that even your kid? Will the child be safe in the hands of a mutant like you? You're a danger to society, I should call child protective services!"

Angry (rightfully so), Erik stands up and starts shouting back at Karen, and in the midst of the argument Karen throws her drink at Erik (to splash him with it). Erik instinctively dodges and then he freezes, because shit there's Lorna behind him, and maybe Karen is right, he's not fit to be a father, how could he dodge when his daughter is behind him and oh god --

And the drink splashes unto Charles, who is standing in front of Lorna.

(Charles had been taking a walk in the park when he heard the racket and felt Erik's rage and anxiousness, and when Charles saw Karen throw the drink at Erik and Lorna he didn't think, he just moved to block it, because he could feel Erik's anxiousness and love for Lorna and, well, it was the right thing to do).

Erik is relieved because Lorna is alright, and then he realizes it's his professor standing there and he's just stunned. As for Karen, Charles mind-whammies her to go away and leave them alone. Anyway, thanks to this incident, Charles finds out that Erik has a daughter and he's a single father.

Charles starts helping Erik out, giving him the study materials for the classes that he missed, babysitting Lorna when he can, and just accompanying Erik. Charles is amazed at everything Erik has accomplished, because Erik is a good dad. He can change diapers and read fairytales and work 2 jobs and still get good grades.

Slowly, Charles finds himself falling for Erik, and vice versa. Unfortunately, Charles tries to keep in mind that Erik is his student, for god's sake, how can he date Erik? There's tons of sexual tension between the two of them, but every time things are getting really close, Charles pulls away.

It makes Erik frustrated, and he starts thinking maybe Charles is just doing this out of pity, maybe Charles doesn't like him, and how could Charles like him when he's a single father? When he's a failure to Lorna and he can't give her the life she deserves? So Erik hides his feelings, and Charles hides his feelings too.

Anyway, after misunderstandings and shenanigans, about one and a half year later, Erik and Charles find themselves locked inside a room, the metal doorknob melted into mush (courtesy of Lorna, who discovered her powers). Erik tries to unlock the door and Charles is angry, thinking Erik just hates him and wants to run away, and they argue and kiss and make-up.

Once Erik understands that Charles does love him, and Charles realizes that yes, he wants Erik even if Erik is his student, the two of them make up and start dating. Obviously it's a secret, and they have to do their best to make sure no one notices (Charles has, on more than one occasion, used his telepathy to cover up his hickies or to hide from prying eyes when he and Erik want to make out a bit after class).

When Erik finally graduates, the two of them can finally date openly, and they lived happily ever after.

The End.

[sotwk]

I just read "A stab to the heart", and first of all, I loved it, just... perfect! The way the Thranduil is so worried for her and he can sense when she wakes up is just way too good for me!

Honestly, the last line of the fic: "We saw ada frightened" just hit me so deep that I had to come here. So, I didn't check to see if you have already written about this in the headcannons masterlist (and I'm sorry if you did and I haven't noticed!) but how do you think that Thranduil and their kids reacted when she died? Like, how their feelings and thoughts after this? I've always assumed Thranduil being an extremely good father, so I can't truly imagine him being mean to any of their kids, but how do you think that they (specially Thranduil) took the news that their queen had died?

Eeek! What lovely feedback and an even lovelier fic-related question! (I am so lucky and grateful to get such nice Anons in my inbox; I am spoiled.)

A Stab to the Heart (Fic Link)

Part 2 of this 2-part fic is over 50% written, but has been stalled in the basement of my brain for over six months now (yikes)! Hopefully I can shove it back into motion soon!

In regards to Thranduil being so in-tune with his wife that their minds are practically in a constant state of ósanwë (Elvish mind-link), I would like to point out a few key details about their relationship:

"A Stab to the Heart" takes place in Third Age 1012. By this time, Thranduil and Maereth have already been married for 1,188 years and have been mutually in love for an additional 1,700. And ever since they married, they were hardly ever parted for any significant amount of time (as opposed to most other Elven couples, like Celeborn and Galadriel, who would live apart for years). Needless to say, you would be hard-pressed to find a couple more tightly, lovingly bonded then the Elvenking and Elvenqueen were to each other.

THEIR ROMANTIC HISTORY: (Link to related HCs HERE) It took Thranduil about 50 years of sporadic meetings to realize he was falling in love with Maereth. However, he knew his father would loathe the idea of his son pairing off with a Noldor (much less one descended from Fëanor) and it would have great repercussions on their kingdom, so Thranduil tried to ignore his growing feelings and sought to maintain just a friendship with her.

Maereth nearly died in the Sacking of Eregion, and Thranduil had been there to witness it; he had held her while she was gravely injured and felt the terror of her slipping away from him. Ultimately, she was saved by the healing of Elrond, but this experience left a permanent mark on Thranduil. From that day on, he found the only thing that ever scared him in his life: losing Maereth to the Halls of Mandos.

What do you do when you realize you love someone so much you cannot live without them? You ask them to marry you, of course! And so Thranduil did, but it took another thousand years of determined courtship to get Maereth to say "yes".

The Aftermath of the Elvenqueen's Death

I have yet to fully write the story of this terrible tragedy (I'm intimidated by it, to be honest), but a version of it was written, including the immediate aftermath, in my Thorin-centric fic, "The Broken Shield", where Maereth died during the War of the Dwarves and Orcs. I wrote out more details of her death in this headcanon post.

As for the reactions of the family (those who were left, anyway)?

OH BOY.

(SPOILERS to the SotWK AU, if anyone cares about that sort of thing, under the cut. Also, it gets pretty sad, so I apologize for the emotions this story may cause.)

Thranduil very nearly died from heartbreak. This was the darkest point in Mirkwood's history, the kingdom that had already been fighting off spiders, orcs, dark creatures, and poisons for centuries. All that was nothing compared to the realm's grief over their Elvenqueen's death, and fearing the likelihood their beloved Elvenking would either die from heartbreak, or finally leave them for the Undying Lands.

Note that by the time the Elvenqueen died, Thranduil had already lost three out of five of his sons. Only Gelir and Legolas remained, though he also had his daughter-in-law, Itarildë (Mirion's widow) and two grandchildren, Crown Prince Aranion (heir to the throne) and Princess Anariel.

Upon his return home to Mirkwood to bury the Elvenqueen's body, Thranduil was uncharacteristically cold and seemingly emotionless. He turned into stone (metaphorically) as a way of holding himself together, for the sake of the people who depended on him. He did not have strength left to properly comfort his family, and could only parrot the kingdom's motto, telling them they "will endure".

Gelir, the most impulsive of the Thranduilions (and second to Turhir as the most hot-tempered), lashed out in vengeful rage. Legolas just barely convinced him not to immediately ride out to seek revenge against the Orcs.

However, about three years after the Elvenqueen was laid to rest, Gelir once again tried to convince his father to allow him and Legolas to lead their armies to rejoin the Dwarves (Thrain's people) in their war against the orcs. Thranduil refused, and instead decreed that all travel to other realms was forbidden while the Dwarves fought their war.

Frustrated by this (and still grieving his mother), Gelir finally broke down and rebelled openly against the Elvenking. He attempted to leave Mirkwood on his own, only to be chased down by his father and dragged back to the Halls in chains, where he was thrown in prison.

Does this sound harsh? I take a pause in this dramatic tale to point out that Thranduil was a very, VERY good father to his sons all their lives. The Princes were over 2,000 years old by the time their mother died; not only were they adults, but they were wise enough to know that they were not exempt from their kingdom's laws, and should understand the grief their father carried from all these terrible losses. Not only did Thranduil need to demonstrate the strength of his authority, but he also refused to risk the death of another family member, even if it meant imprisoning his own child.

After the war ended in TA 2799, Gelir was finally released from prison, after being held there for 3 years. But instead of making peace with his father and submitting to the King's decrees, he openly criticized Mirkwood's isolationist policies, which had become even stricter after the Elvenqueen's death.

Legolas, caught between the two dearest people in the world to him, could not get them to reconcile their differences.

After another year of strife between father and son, Thranduil gave Gelir an ultimatum: reaffirm his fealty to the Elvenking and his laws, or be banished from the kingdom. Gelir, believing his home had become a "cage" that he refused to be locked in, chose banishment.

Gelir asked his brother to come with him, forcing Legolas to choose sides by staying with Thranduil. He remembered a prophetic plea his mother once made to him many years before her death: "above all, choose your father". His decision was also influenced by the special closeness he had with Thranduil.

Thus, Gelir left the kingdom in the winter of TA 2800, and cut off all contact with his family. Legolas was the only Thranduilion left.

For a century (TA 2800-2900), Thranduil struggled against his personal demons of anger and grief and longing to be with his beloved wife again. In spite of his depression however, he continued to govern his people effectively, but only with the help and loyalty of Legolas and his devoted daughter-in-law and grandchildren. (Note: SotWK AU does NOT accept the coldness and rift between Legolas and Thranduil as shown in the film adaptation. Legolas ultimately proves to be Thranduil's most steadfast son. The conflict between Tauriel and Thranduil, and her romance with Legolas, do not occur in SotWK either.)

In TA 2850, when Gandalf uncovered Sauron's identity as the Necromancer--something Thranduil had suspected for centuries, but his reports went unheeded--the Elvenking slowly began to return to himself, remembering the hard battle that still needed to be fought to protect his kingdom.

In TA 2911, Thranduil even began to loosen the restrictions against traveling outside of Mirkwood, when he allowed Itarildë and Anariel to join Gandalf in giving aid to the Hobbits of the Shire during the Fell Winter, just as their family had done previously during the Long Winter (TA 2758).

By the time Thorin and his Company arrived at Mirkwood in TA 2941, the remnants of the royal house of Thranduil were back in fighting form, although the Elvenking would always carry a longing for his wife that would not be healed until their reunion in Aman over a century into the Fourth Age.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

[rythmicjea]

On the last day of summer vacation... The Writer and His Muse

Full disclosure, I wrote another version of this last night. It was... factually correct. But it just wasn't good. So I saved it and took a few steps away and realized what I was supposed to be writing. I apologize now this is going to be long.

When I came up with the idea to write this series, I wasn't sure of the structure. If I'm honest, I still don't know lol. And after being called the "Riverdale Analysis Auteur" (thank you @storkmuffin ❤️), I promise to do the utmost to put forth only my best for you. There isn't going to be an uploading schedule so follow the tag "Code Word Jeronica" to see when I post.

My intention with this is to show that from the pilot there has always been the opportunity for Jeronica. I know what you're saying "there's an opportunity for ALL pairings."

And, yes, while you are correct. There were some possibilities that were more feasible than others (Sorry Jarchies!). For the skeptics out there, the showrunners did chemistry tests with so many pairings. Cole even admitted that he did one with Cami and he was open to a Jughead/Veronica relationship "It's the CW, anything can happen"! Coding isn't always intentional or needs to be taken seriously. And that's okay. As a writer myself, I understand the "side character curse" all too well.

With all of that being said, I will only be focusing on the evidence we get in the show itself. I may reference the comics sporadically (like how Jughead and Veronica have been paired up/dated several times in the comics, throughout the comic's history. Below is a picture from Pep #154 in 1962!) but I'll never reference anything outside of the source material as evidence.

The Writer and His Muse

It's established from the pilot that Jughead is a writer, an aspiring novelist. All writers need a muse. Something that inspires them to put pen to paper. In Greek Mythology, Muse was a Greek Goddess who gave inspiration to all. Often, a muse is referred to as a beautiful woman but it can be anything. The show Riverdale is the muse for fanfiction writers who write in the universe. Jughead has several muses throughout the show. He goes through various tribulations with his writing. We see him suffer with writer's block, make a deal with the devil (both Jugheads in Rivervale), and we know that the story that put him on the map was a telling of him and his friends.

In the overall show we know of five big stories that Jughead writes. Jason Blossom's murder, The Red Dahlia, Killing Mr. Honey, The Outcasts, and Bend. Towards. Justice. All follow a pretty basic plotline. Something happens, a group of teens have to investigate, there's a surprise twist, and then a resolution.

But, through all of these he has one muse that is constant. Would you believe me if I told you it was our fair Veronica? Because it is. Before you ask "What about Betty?", let me ask you the same. What about her? She is a character in his stories. Sometimes she's the main character. But being the main character and being a muse are two very different things. Veronica's presence in his stories symbolize different major elements to a story. More than any other Riverdale character.

Throughout the series we see Jughead struggle with his writing. His father tells him to keep writing as a way to get out of Riverdale and not get caught up with the Serpents. We see him have profound writer's block, plagiarize another author, change the way he writes due to his disability, and physically lose his ability to write. His writer's block, and the complications with it, start in season 5 and aren't resolved until season 6.

Here's an unexpected bonus from helping Veronica...

...I started writing again.

She is, and has always been, his muse. This is the first time he acknowledges it, but the clues have been there since day one.

Jason Blossom's Murder

The first story begins with the pilot's very first scene. It also introduces the audience to a concept called "The Center of a Story". The center of a story is just how it sounds. It is the element that brings everyone together. However, while this can be the main character and what that character goes through, it can simply be a person or place that has very little interaction at all with the main story. In a murder mystery, which Season 1 is, the center of a story can be the murder victim. In telling that story we can either have flashbacks of the person's life up until they are killed; or, they are simply the reason why everyone comes together (and not even just to find out why. Sometimes the why isn't necessary).

Jason Blossom is the center of the story. It's all about finding out who killed him. But the muse of the story? The hook? The character's entrance that actually connects everyone together? That's Veronica. "On the last day of summer vacation, a new mystery rolled into town." Jason's murder is the B-plot of the season. It might have kicked everything off, and the action might be connected to him, but it's not the entire reason why Jughead is writing this book. In fact, the opening soliloquy says:

Our story is about a town, a small town, and the people who live in the town. From a distance it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world. Safe, decent, innocent. Get closer though? And you start seeing the shadows underneath. The name of our town is Riverdale.

The story was never about Jason Blossom.

The Red Dahlia

I'm not going to touch on this much, because I have a whole post planned just about this episode. But, I want to point out that out of all of the stories we see him write, this is the only story that focuses solely on one character. It's completely about Veronica. She, like Jason, is the catalyst. The difference is that, unlike Jason, she plays a major role.

Killing Mr. Honey

In his last story to submit to the University of Iowa, it's about how seven teenagers try to get rid of their unethical and overbearing principal. We have known up to this point that Jughead loves horror. He likes to write "Lovecraftian" style stories. The difference between the two are HPL rejected morality. He considered himself a "Morality Atheist". Jughead, on the other hand, loves morality tales. (In 1955 there's a whole episode about it.) This is most evident in this telling. Each character represents an architype. Veronica, arguably, is the most important architype. She represents morality. She's the only one who really challenges what they are doing. Specifically, Jughead. At face value someone can go "Well, Jughead and Veronica aren't friends so it makes sense". First off, no, they very much are friends. But, second, if they weren't, why put her in such a place of honor. In actuality, given his character in the show (and the comics), Archie should be the moral compass of the story.

The Outcasts

The Outcasts is really the only story that we have very little knowledge of. I freely admit that for evidence, it's the weakest of the five. It presents coded details for the audience to infer their meaning. Jughead is the Viper Leader, the Serpents are the Vipers, but is Betty The Homecoming Queen? Most likely. The co-ed he takes home tells him that he wrote a "very sexy book" in regards to the Viper Leader and the Homecoming Queen. However, in his drunken voicemail, he lambasts Betty. One line in particular stands out "You're a cold, fake, duplicitous bitch. And once people read my book, everyone's going to see that". Now, we don't know what is in the book (Kind of wish they'd released it) and it could end with the Homecoming Queen cheating on the Viper Leader with the Football Captain (I'm inferring that that would be Archie's character). Or, they could have lived happily ever after. Or... using the ambiguity to stretch the possibility... the Homecoming Queen could have been Veronica.

Why? Well, there's a reason why the Enemies to Lovers trope is so popular. What better way to get back at your ex for cheating but to immortalize their best friend (who was also cheated on by your best friend) as the true-love-fairy-tale-princess of your wildly popular NYT best seller?

Bend. Towards. Justice.

The last story we see Jughead write is when they've been taken back to 1955. 7x01 is very reminiscent of the pilot. But, for Jughead and his writing, it's always been in the details. Season 7 is my favorite season, and trust me, I have a lot to say about what happens. So, I'll keep this brief. Even when he describes Tabitha it's very factual. There's no emotion. He lists who she is and the reason why she might know what's going on. Please don't take this to mean that at this point he isn't still in love with her, because he very much is. When he sees her, he doesn't know the 1955 version isn't his girlfriend. He keeps all of his emotions bottled up until he can figure out a plan. And to spare her from any craziness because her memories also might be gone. Up until this point, everyone's description is "This person is here, and this is who they are". Including himself.

For starters I live in an abandoned train car with Hot Dog which... actually tracks... Betty and Kevin aren't merely friends, they're dating. Cheryl's twin brother is alive, but he's not Jason, he's Julian. No sign of a Reggie yet. But Archie exists and he's pretty much a teen Charles Atlas... I've been waiting to reconnect with the one person who might shed some light on our predicament because she was both Chronokenetic and the town's guardian angel. My girlfriend, Tabitha Tate.

He mentions that all of this information is "overwhelming, heartbreaking". But he doesn't say why because there are many reasons why. His best friends don't remember anything. Do they even really know him? With one one question he realizes that the person he loves doesn't love him back. But he breaks this way of introducing the "characters" when he introduces Veronica. It's all emotion. There's even a sexy jazz trumpet riff announcing her.

"Damn..." His thoughts whispered to him breathlessly. "Even in 1955, Veronica Lodge still knew how to make an entrance." He goes from boredom to attention. He straightens his shoulders, he sits up to see her better, and he doesn't blink. Like everyone else, and very unlike him, his whole attention is on her.

THE PILOT

Now that we've gone through the five major stories we know he writes, let's go back to the end to see the beginning. The last episode of the entire series ends with a typewriter. All of the stories mentioned above are stories written within the main one. Riverdale itself is a story (possibly Archie Comics fanfiction) written by Jughead.

The pilot itself, as all TV shows, has a narrative woven throughout. There's characters, conflict, plot, etc. Though the episode opens with Jason's murder the pilot was never about that. Hell, Jughead is barely featured in it. We see him two significant times. The first time is two minutes in, where he's drinking his coffee writing his story. And he says the classic line, "We were still talking about the Fourth of July tragedy on the last day of summer vacation, when a new mystery rolled into town." We are introduced to Veronica Lodge, by Jughead, right after we're introduced to him. At this point he's only named Cheryl and Jason Blossom as that is the impetus for this show/season. "There needs to be a dead body".

The pilot is about Veronica. She moves to Riverdale, she meets Archie and Betty, she mentions Our Town, and her desire for Archie is established. Compared to Veronica, it takes 8 minutes to mention Jason again and 10 minutes to bring him back into the plot. Then nothing significant happens with him until the very end of the episode! But even after that brief interlude it's only 5 minutes later Veronica is given her first conflict. And by the halfway point, she's thoroughly decimated said conflict.

So, Miss Auteur, why are you bringing this up?

Because Riverdale was supposed to be about Archie. But by the end of the first half of the first episode Veronica is the only character to have a full plot arc and even an epilogue! More importantly, she is immediately woven into the fabric of the town. Even though the Varchie romance is introduced we must remember how the episode is being framed.

If you compare the narration to the writing on Jughead's laptop, it doesn't match up. Cole Sprouse might have read everything on said laptop and it was shortened for time. But, I wouldn't read too much into the discrepancies. I mean, the previous two pages are exact copies of each other lol. And while there might not be numbered pages it's at least four and I'm baffled about what he could have written prior to the opening lines. Also, as a writer, there are the things we think we're going to write and the things we actually do write (For example, I wrote a 16 chapter 100k+ Zack and Cody fanfic, and I didn't know the show existed! The Suite Adult Life). Our thoughts vs our words carry weight to a story. An argument can be made that either position is the most important. Is it better to write out that which we keep so closely guarded so it may live on in infamy? Or are the most profound thoughts those we keep closest to our chests?

Though one little line stands out when I do read it...

"See, the Blossoms had their tendrils wrapped around the entire town - no one wanted to make enemies of them."

Who is the person not wrapped up in their tendrils? And who immediately made an enemy of Cheryl Blossom?

Bisous, Bisous... Votre Auteur.

[javaghoul]

TG Character's Writing Love Letters

Akira

Emails are more efficient; do they count?

Akiras' love-email(?) is going to be direct, full of backhanded compliments, and highly unromantic. Unless you are into that kinda thing

It'll likely start off with "I find emails to be more efficient than a letter..."

Has performance appraisal vibes. Luckily, before hitting send she removes the "areas for you to work on" part

Naki

Ha ha ha let's take a cheap shot at TG's #1 reading champ 🙄

But seriously, if you think a mere love letter is what Naki needs to make his intentions known, then the joke is on you

Just ask Miza; they have 754 kids

Fella is doing something right

Ayato

If you're lucky, you'll get a text with a 😉 emoji

If you're lucky and he's tired, he'll accidentally use the ❤️ instead

Nishiki

Dark horse - he's good

During his absence from Kimi, he wrote numerous letters which he never posted

He kept a couple, which he gave to Kimi when the world started going back to normal

Anyway, the letters were not only lovey dovey, but unbearably sad

He can express himself extremely well when he wants to. He doesn't use flowery words or flattery. His letters are honest and heartfelt

Eto

Her letters are much like her novels: open for interpretation

Saucy though

Tend to lean towards being dark, moody, and almost hostile?

They're handwritten (she has beautiful penmanship btw)

Eto enjoys writing them as much as she enjoys seeing the recipient reading them... Even though they can't see her

Hide

In a word: cute

It's not going to be something that rivals Shakespeare, but it does 🌟rhyme🌟

Just about

Very sweet, simple, and makes you smile

Written on the back of a Big Girl flyer

Kaneki

Ken is a talented writer... When he's thinking about what to write

When it comes to it, he bottles it and turns to books

He'll find a passage that describes his feelings completely and copy it out

"You asked me how I feel about you, well this is it..."

Uta

If he's writing one in the first place, he's likely screwed up somewhere

It won't be asking for forgiveness or apologizing, but it will say how he is a slightly better person for you being in his world

Uses a lot of imagery, especially when describing what he'll do to the world if you and he are not a couple in it anymore

Yomo

Smiley face on a post-it note guy

I don't think his literacy is the best, which puts him off writing

Which is a shame because his would be similar to Nishiki's

So yeah, smiley face on a post-it note which turns up sporadically on mirrors, or the side of a coffee mug the morning after

May add a "you look beautiful sleeping" if he's in full wordsmith mode

Shuu

Of course he is on this list, duuuuuh

His letters are extra af

He has the vocabulary, the culture, the creativity, to turn letter writing into a full-sensory experience

Which is precisely what he does

Hand written (in fountain pen, handmade paper), and the ink corresponds with the mood he wants to convey

Very poetic. Flows well. Also NSFW

11/10 contains half a pound of rose petals in the envelope

[foxes-that-run]

I’m a big believer that William Bowery is HS. When I listen to Champagne problems it sounds almost like an apology or an acknowledgement of the sadness directed towards CH for not accepting his proposal (which she’s given us Easter eggs to- the words NO written in diamonds in look what you made me do with a ring case). As much of a dick CH seemed and how she allegedly went back to HS I kind love thinking that now as an adult she could look back and not have regret for saying no but show understanding for how that must have felt

or im delulu

Hi Anon,

Wow I never knew about the No and jewelry box in LAWYMMD! The locket seems to point to CH too. It tracks, he was 32, they dated for a year and she was good for his career. But I don't think she cares enough for him for Champagne Problems to be about him. She doesn't hold back in I did something bad or high infidelity about him and he had gone on Twitter calling himself a beard.

I really like this analysis of Champagne Problems

I associate Joe with Champagne Problems, I believe he proposed and that he was rejected. I find he fits the best because of the dorm (HS and CH didn't go to university) and splashing out on the bottle (CH and HS have always been multi-multi-millionaires while dating her so I imagine Dom Perignon is not the best they would choose). Booking the night train to wallow could also be Joe.

Something else I find interesting in Champagne Problems is the scales at 4mins in, right at the end. Harry has a tendency to add a flourish to the end of his songs, like the coco’s and Camille voice note in Cherry, vocalisations at the end of FTDT and Super Pretty and Fine Line crescendo, whistling at the end of canyon moon. It’s not something I associate with Taylor or Jack.

I remember when I first heard this song, I was floored, I wondered if it was the end of her and Joe. In hindsight I think it was because of the subject matter and how William Bowery unfolded, but it took a long slow death to get there. However, I think WB wrote the melody on Piano and Taylor the Lyrics.

I am endlessly fascinated how it went from dropping easter eggs on WBs identity to declaring it Joe. Then giving him a production credit rather than a writing one and that being the end of it. Also how it came to be that that was the end of them other than a handful of sporadic sightings.

Then she also said "I wouldn't marry me either" in Your loosing me, I wonder if she later asked to marry him after being turned down?

[hurtcomfortficstilltheend]

Study sesh gone wrong.

Wanda Maximoff x gn! Reader (College Au)

Summary: It's finals week and you are overwhalmed, Wanda helps you get through a rough study session.

Warnings: Academic stress, being very overwhalmed, flow state is a bitch sometimes, feeling cold, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end.

A/N: Wrote this last year before a massive biology exam.

Word count: 862

You get to your room ten minutes after finishing your last lesson for the day. The space is cramped and the air stuffy, so you open the windows and make your bed to feel somewhat accomplished. 

You go to the bathroom and fill up a big jar with water. You are about to dive into a long study session, you can’t afford anything else, and you’ll need to at least be hydrated to keep focus.

If you stop to think about it, you know, deep down, that you are overdoing it. Ever since your academic performance started to be graded (back in high school) you feel like you need to get everything right. Every single exam you have ever taken and every essay you have ever written has either gotten an A or an A+, which for many would mean that you can relax now, right? You have a soft cushion to land if you are to get a bad grade, right?

Wrong! Cause what if you get sick, and then you can’t go to class, and then you fail your exams and have to redo the whole year? What if you get into a depressive episode and your professors think you are just being lazy? What if you get the bare minimum grades to graduate and then no one wants to hire you to be a scientist and then you die of hunger?

You can’t let that happen, and you won’t. If it takes not having any social life while on exam times and finals week, so be it.

You sit down on your small desk and get all of your notes and books out.

Hours pass by without you noticing. Tomorrow you have a biology test and you haven’t had time to study during the week, cause today there was a math exam that you -also- felt totally unprepared for.

You are so immersed in your work that you don’t notice when the door opens and your girlfriend and roommate, Wanda, comes in after knocking a few times.

“Hi babe! I brought takeout!” She notices you can’t hear her. She closes the door behind her and takes a few steps into the room. “Jeez, it’s freezing in here”.

You come out of your concentration induced trance and stare at Wanda while she closes the windows. You notice that it’s already dark outside.

“Hi Wans” you get up from your chair and almost fall, as your legs feel numb from sitting for so long. She catches you though, and engulfs you in her warm embrace.

“Honey, you’re ice-cold” she says in a worried tone. Only then you notice you’re shivering uncontrollably. You bury your face on the crook of her neck. Now that you're out of the flow state, you feel tired, hungry, and cold, very cold, all at once.

“I didn’t notice, sorry” you apologize unnecessarily “I was studying”. You take a step back to see her face. By the look of it you know she’s worried about you. You feel the tears well up in your eyes. You don’t understand why. “I’m really cold”.

“Baby…” And that’s all it takes for the dam to break. You feel the sobs in the back of your throat before you let them out into the air.

Wanda pulls you in again and strokes your back in calming circles. There are no words needed. After a while the crying turns into soft and sporadic hiccups. 

“We have to get you into warmer clothes, okay?” you nod in agreement, without enough energy to speak yet. She hands you a pile of fresh clothes: a pair of sweatpants, a long sleeve t-shirt and your -her- favorite hoodie.

She warms up water in an electric kettle while you change, and you choose your favorite tea from the makeshift cupboard.

You end up eating lukewarm chinese with rose tea while cuddling in bed, because your feet were cold as ice and you got worried that they would fall off if you didn’t get under the covers at that exact moment. 

The lights have been off for a while, when you whisper “I’m sorry” you think she’s already asleep until she asks “What for?” softly.

“I don’t know. I feel like I’ve ruined the evening for you” you admit. your face is resting in her chest, and you can feel how her breath catches. 

“You couldn’t ruin anything babe” she assures you. Her fingers run through your scalp in soothing patterns. She feels so lucky to be the one who gets to comfort you when you show this part of yourself, being that you are usually the most cheerful and optimistic person in the room. She feels special knowing you can unmask your insecurities and be vulnerable around her. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“I love you too” the tiniest of smiles makes its way to your face, you’re so lucky to have her by your side. You forget for a while about the biology exam, and all your studies for that matter. You drift off listening to your love’s heartbeat, with her arm around your shoulders, and her lovely voice in your head.

[strywoven]

hello all ! i've returned to apologize for the lack of activity / presence due to the rigor of school ( hopefully this will change with summer break ) . i've decided that , rather than updating you sporadically every so often that maybe it would be more organized to do quarterly updates ? so , every 4 weeks through my term , i'll pop in and let you all know what's what. does that sound good ? here we go !

i really only have a few things worth mentioning , but i feel like you might get a kick out of them !

i made the dean's list after just one semester ! to follow this achievement , just this week i received a letter from the faculty that i've been invited the join the Psi Chi honors society for psychology students. this is all totally unexpected ! they're also considering me for a leadership position , even as a starting undergrad. after telling my family , they said , "well what's next ? being accepted into MENSA ?" to which i laughed in their face ( not to be rude , but because that's a bit above my pay-grade methinks ) .

i've made a rapport with my professors ; especially my moral theology professor whom i love to hold after class and talk to periodically. just recently we got into a debate over happiness v. satisfaction and if there can be "too much virtue" . when he began his response with , "well , according to the Christian tradition--" i interjected sardonically with , "oh , the CHRISTIAN TRADITION !" to which he started laughing. it's a great time , we keep each other amused , is what i'm saying. he's also married to a psychiatrist and made the joke that he hopes i won't psychoanalyze him.

my history professor has , for 3 weeks , been only calling me by my surname. i don't know why , because he can see my full name printed on every post i make. when i sent him an email he wrote back , "i must apologize , i think i've been calling you by the wrong name." oh , have you ? hm. what funny guy.

and , there's some stuff going on behind the scenes that have me a bit ... uneasy. but i'm not one to post about it here. overall , though , i think we're doing okay ! :) and as usual , please feel free to reach out in the meanwhile , even if i'm a bit distant or slow to reply. i - like a few of my friends here - am making a shift towards being more plot-focused for interactions , so i would love to talk to you guys more about things !

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Hi, fairly new follower here so apologies if this has been asked already.

I absolutely ADORE your writing style. Can I ask you what’s your writing routine, if you have one? What words do you consume, what motivates you to write?

Hello, new friend! And thanks!

Um, as far as routine, I try to write for twenty minutes or so every day, even if I end up trashing all of whatever I wrote at least i still got the thoughts out of my brain. Sometimes I will write for a couple of hours, often on Saturdays and Sundays when I don't have work.

I also tend to write in fits and bursts - posting consistently for a month or two or three, then sporadically, then not at all for a while. Just depends on how I'm feeling. I am easily distracted.

Motivation is just that I... have a thought, and I decide to share that thought, and then that thought has a bunch of other thoughts and otherwise I sit around daydreaming these huge elaborate stories that I think are better off on the page.

I read a TON - nonfiction and fiction. Right now I just started a book on four ancient abandoned/forgotten cities and what happened to them, which is pretty great.

[anaxandria-writes]

20 questions for fic writers!

Thanks for the tag @lumosatnight [see here]!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Technically 50 (I think) because one of them is in an anonymous collection so AO3 is telling me 49. I’m considering putting some more earlier works as anonymous so that number might change soon.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

245,593… but I haven’t written at least 100k of that because they’re collabs where I did art (such as WLW Big Bang 2022).

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling (44)

Teen Wolf (3)

Marvel (3)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Three Days, Three Perspectives [Drarry, E, 6.5k]

An Expensive Courtship [Drarry, E, 10.9k]

Petrichor [Steter, T, 2.5k]

Snapshots of a Pregnancy [Drarry, T, 3.8k]

🙀 ➡ 😻 ➡ 😽 [Stony, T, 5.2k]

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I’m terrible about doing this, so I’m very sporadic about it, but every comment means so much to me! I just see it and if I don’t respond immediately, they just pile up and then I never get to it? 100% getting better at replying with my ongoing WIP, What Large Hands You Have (The Better to Embrace You With) [Steter, M, 14.7k so far], since I’m posting as I write and the encouragement means SO much!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Half Past One [Drarry, M, 2.5k] which was a horror fic (my one and only one) that I wrote for a Wheel of Drarry mini exchange. There’s MCD. And gore.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I almost never not write happy endings, BUT I’m going to go with Pinocchio [Neville/Harry, E, 3.9k] because it’s crack-y, fun, and Harry gets off a ton of times. (Mostly unintentionally).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I’ve had a couple rude-ish comments? Someone said that it would be better if it were longer, which was kind of ??? It was one of my first works and the mods reached out to me about it and they were super supportive and kind. (This is also the fic that is now anonymous, for unrelated reasons.)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I’ve written some PWPs. A little of everything, really… and a fair number of my longer works include some sex scenes. I probably read more kinky content than I write (beyond the watersports fics because apparently I have multiple?), but yeah. Pro-smut here.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope. I’ve read a few, but it’s mostly not my thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes! And I only found out because the person didn’t realize that it was stealing to repost on Wattpad and then apologized and asked how I felt about it…

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

My tango fic, The Cabeceo [Drarry, E, 1.9k], was translated into Spanish by @stargazing-enby last year for HD Owl Post. Which was such an amazing and wonderful gift to receive, especially because *tango*. I definitely feel like I’ve grown a lot as a writer since I first wrote it, but it’s very near and dear to me and having a translation (which I can read!) even more so. If it gives anyone any ideas… I can read Portuguese and Spanish!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Co-written? No. I’ve done art for various people before and participated in several big bangs/reverse big bangs as both an author and an artist. (ETA: 100% have co-written multiple fics no idea how I forgot those when I first answered)

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Flintwood. (And yes, I’ve had full on spreads in my journal dedicated to Flintwood.) Don’t ask me why, but those are my athletic rivals to lovers absolute hands down favorite. For Teen Wolf, I started in Steter (so it remains my #1) and one of my all-time top comfort reads is a Steter fic, This Time Around by Green (and someone else who no longer is associated with the work), which I received a bound copy of last year as part of the Renegade Bookbinding Exchange.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

“Green Glows and Ginger Greens” is a Flintwood WIP that I have 20k written of, edited and posted chapter one and it’s been… 2 years. I hope to get back to it (and my other unposted Flintwood hanahaki I’ve been talking about for about as long), but it’s just… not happened.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Idea generation, maybe? I think I tend to be really good at coming up with ideas and starting writing projects that have the potential to be really interesting. I love kind of crack-y ideas, and I’ve been trying to be better at actually delving into those instead of going “this is too weird, no one will read it.” (Example: I wrote a fic from a bathroom’s POV and it still makes me laugh.)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to come up with ideas that spiral out of control, but I’m terrible at finishing things so I procrastinate and then it gets rushed and not as strong as it could be. Also not using betas that often because of said procrastination. And feeling awkward about it because I never leave enough time for editing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I love it, especially when it’s a language I speak and am like “Yes! This adds some cultural context”, etc. But also, such an important thing to get people to double check that before just throwing it in.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Back when I was a wee bb in high school? Either Protector of the Small or Harry Potter. As an adult? Also Harry Potter.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Completed on AO3? Herbology_Neville and DragonKeeperCW [Neville/Charlie, E, 11k] which was the fic I worked on whenever I was procrastinating on other fics. I’ve always wanted to go back to that universe and just haven’t had a chance, but… Neville and Charlie are adorable and I love them. I’m also loving the fic I’m posting now, as mentioned it’s What Large Hands You Have (The Better To Embrace You With), which was for Steter Bang because it really is reflective a lot of me as a person. Otherwise, I really loved the Green Glows/Snuggling, Smoothies, and Sons-in-Law universe (just need to finish both of those…)

Tagging (i never know who to tag!): @sugareey-makes-stuff (again, even though I know you were already tagged), @drwhoisginnyholmes, @makeitp1nk