#this didn't have a title until just now which. i never do that. i'm a title first kind of person

[fairysteve]

I'm having a lot of fun with @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six Fic Challenge, and while I'm not completely finished yet, I do have something. I'll post the complete thing to AO3 once I'm done.

My prompt is "All these lights, and not a single one is flickering. That's a nice change of pace, huh?" but it does not actually show up in this part. Also, I went for angst with a happy ending, so this part is all angst. Steve-centric, of course.

embraced by the darkness (waiting for the lights) (part 1)

The holiday season had snuck up on all of them. With the gates, and with Max, time had just passed differently. Trying to think back, Steve can only remember volunteering, shifts at Family Video, and making sure everyone around him was okay. He’s had a few calls with his mum, but his parents hadn’t wanted to return to Hawkins considering everything. Not that Steve has celebrated Christmas with them in years; they stopped bringing him with them once he aged out of being his mum’s cute angelic child, aged out of living up to his dad’s expectations. The last time he got close to celebrating Christmas with anyone was when he and Nancy were dating and he spent as much time as possible in her home, but even then he had spent Christmas Day alone.

Knowing that this year would be no different, Steve had been the first to offer to take Lucas’ place in the hospital; allowing him to take a break and celebrate with his family. It was better to be here with Max than be home alone, although there’s not a lot to do other than staring at the walls; white was never a colour he had an opinion on but after spending most of the year in and out of Max’s hospital room, Steve has grown to hate it. The kids' drawings help break up the monotony of the room, and it helps cheer him up to think about them. Even if the paper underneath their drawings remains white.

He has never felt right drawing anything to add to the collection. He loves Max like a little sister, and except for Lucas and El, he has spent the most hours by her bedside, but he’ll always be unsure of his place in other people’s lives.

He thought his parents would always love and care for him, but then they started leaving him alone, they started forgetting about him, and when he no longer had the illusion of a promising future to hide behind, his dad cut him off. The relationship he’s trying to repair with his mum is fragile at best.

And he had thought Nancy loved him but that turned out to be bullshit, and now he still doesn’t know how to be her friend. He doesn’t know how to be Jonathan’s friend either and hasn’t really tried, to be fair. Steve can’t truly look at them without remembering who he was in high school, feels like they’ll always see the asshole that let things happen. He used to be so passive about everything.

He still feels passive sometimes, surrounded by kids so much smarter than him. All he’s good for is being another body between them and the monsters; he knows he can make anything a weapon, knows he can kill a demo-whatever. The problem is when the monster is human and he has to hold back; when he has to be a shield and not a weapon. Some nights, he feels like he has Barb’s blood on his hands. Billy’s too, for what his death did to Max.

During the past months, he has woken up thinking it was Max's or Eddie’s blood. Thinking he could have saved them if he was smarter, faster, better.

He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he actually were responsible for another person’s death; if he tried to protect and instead caused irrecoverable harm.

With a shaky exhale, he leans back in the hospital chair. It’s not very comfortable, but none of them has ever complained. Trying to find a position that won’t kill his back gives him something to think about, something to focus on that won’t make him spiral. The last thing he needs is to have an anxiety attack next to Max; she would never let him live it down if she knew.

Maybe it would be worth it if it would finally force her awake, if seeing Steve being pathetic was the last push she needed to open her eyes.

He needs to redirect his thoughts somehow. Needs a distraction that won’t push him further towards a spiral. Music is out of the question; none of them has been able to listen to Kate Bush in the same way, and any song now carries the possibility of being life or death for someone. Or maybe Steve is the only one to think that; the others are still happy to fight over control of the radio when he drives them around, and he gets frequent updates on how Corroded Coffin is doing. At least music wasn’t taken from any of them.

There’s something dark about how he feels better when he’s the only one that suffers. Steve would carry all their pain on his shoulders if he only could. Would take all their nightmares and flashbacks and triggers so that they can smile and laugh and continue to be kids. He would take the pain from Robin, and Nancy and Jonathan, and Eddie too. From Joyce and Hopper and Murray and anyone else that has gotten involved.

Steve sometimes thinks he would shoulder the pain of the whole world if it allowed them to be done with the Upside Down. Thinks that it would be worth it if everyone stopped having to grow up so fast.

Thinking about growing up does remind him of the book he brought; the book he always brings. It’s not every time that he reads from it, but it feels like one of those days that need a fairytale to brighten things up. It will give him something to do at least.

The book of fairytales is old, something his mum used to read him to sleep with before his dad argued that he was too old for stories. She let him keep it, a secret between the two of them, a keepsake from when she was a mother and not a distant figure. It’s one of Steve’s few possessions that mean something to him; he can recite each story verbatim if asked, but he prefers having the comforting weight of the book resting in his lap, prefers reading the words from the worn pages.

He flips through the pages to the story of the little mermaid and begins to read, softly enough that only Max can hear him.

Steve wishes that he could find a sea witch now; he, too, would cut off all his hair for his sister to live. Would throw away the dagger too; would turn into seafoam for her. And if not seafoam, a spirit of air.

Maybe Max is a spirit of air, looking down at him now. But that would mean that they’ve lost her—

The heart monitor provides a comforting background noise as he continues to read, doing his best to not stumble over the words that he knows by heart. For now, Max is alive, for now, he can focus on reading for her, for now, he can hope that the fairytale reaches her, wherever she is.

-

He must have dozed off at some point for the next thing he knows a nurse is gently shaking him awake. There’s a paper cup of coffee getting pressed into his hands, although it’s probably much too late for caffeine. Max’s room doesn’t have a clock on their insistence and the dark comes early these days, but he thinks it should be the end of visiting hours if he’s getting woken up. Not that visiting hours always matter; especially the first few months had found them in and out of the hospital at all hours of the day.

“You should head on home, son. There’s snow coming.” the nurse tells him, voice just barely loud enough to be heard with his decreased hearing. Steve thinks he mumbles something coherent in response since they leave after making sure he won’t drop the cup.

The coffee is strong, but the bitter taste helps him come back to consciousness. Sleep comes rarely to him, but it always drags him down deep when it does. He has taken to keeping the nail bat by his bed; needs a weapon close at hand when waking up takes too long. Not like the weeks after something has just happened and any noise has him sitting up, ready for a fight.

If he’s getting less or more sleep now, Steve can’t tell. He gets enough that no one notices, enough for him to function, and that’s enough. It has to be.

Once he’s gotten the coffee down, Steve closes the book that thankfully hadn’t fallen to the floor while he slept, and puts it in his bag before pushing himself up from the chair. Nothing has changed with Max since he last looked at her; the rhythm of the heart monitor is the same. He takes a moment to make sure that she’s tucked in comfortably and that there’s no hair on her face, before saying goodbye with a kiss on her forehead— a last bit of warmth for the road.

-

Sitting in his car outside the hospital, Steve takes a moment to decide where to go. He has been told by Claudia more than once that he’s always welcome to spend time with her and Dustin, no matter the time of day, and Robin has promised to keep a chair free for him if he changed his mind about spending Christmas with her. Even Joyce had sent an invitation through Hopper, and Mrs Sinclair had promised him leftovers if he came by that evening.

Steve doesn’t feel right about intruding on any of them. The one time he tried taking up an invitation, he had sat outside in his car for twenty minutes, stuck in an anxiety spiral, before he drove home. It’s easier for everyone if he just skips the middle step, so there was really only one answer.

He gets home before the snow, but just barely. The first flakes are falling as he hurries from his car to the door, not dressed for the cold. His gloves and scarves have ended up with the others who needed them more; he can make do by zipping his jacket the whole way up and sticking his hands underneath his armpits. And he can surely find another pair of gloves and another scarf if he goes through his parents' things; they have left a lot of clothes behind, and they fit him better every year.

The house is warm in temperature only, and he’s once more thankful that his dad hasn’t thought to pause the bills. His parents' unreliable schedule is good for one thing only; never knowing when they will be home means that the house is always in working order. The downside, of course, is that Steve rarely feels comfortable inviting anyone over; not knowing if his parents will come home or if he’ll have enough time to clean up before they do… He always finds himself getting too worked up to truly relax.

He used to smoke, but then the Russians… it’s not the same kind of drug, but Steve can't stand not being in control of himself. Alcohol is out of the question for the same reason, and partly because he remembers when Nancy got drunk and has felt uncomfortable around intoxicated people ever since, always wondering if they’re going to blow up at him.

Steve wants to be of help, finds a purpose in being useful, in being able to love and be loved in return. To have all that thrown back at him, having it called bullshit… Nancy Wheeler has changed him in many ways, only a handful of them good.

When he shivers, it’s more due to his thoughts than the temperature. Still, he keeps his jacket on even after he has put away his bag and taken off his shoes. Exhaustion has come over him like a heavy blanket now that he’s home, and Steve wants nothing more than to go to bed. He does take a moment to look towards the kitchen, to try to remember when he last ate something, but he doesn’t think he would be able to keep anything down. The anxiety that he had felt in the hospital is worming its way through his veins now, and he wants to be in the safety of his bedroom before it overcomes him.

It doesn’t take long to get there, taking the stairs two steps at a time. He has long since learned how to find his way around the house in the dark, how to do so quietly, and fast. His room is the furthest to the left; turn left once up the stairs, and then to the left again. With his parents' room being the furthest to the right on the first floor, he doesn’t have to be all that quiet, but Steve has always been more anxious than anyone would think.

He would lock the door behind him, but there isn’t one. He can only hope that he remembered to lock the front door; not that a locked door can stop the monsters. Steve glances towards the wall at the thought and immediately glances away; he’s not bleeding; the gates aren’t completely closed even after all these months but they’re too small in size for anything to come through; he’s safe, and he has his bat.

He knows he’s safe, so why is he unable to breathe?

His jacket feels constricting and he cannot get it off soon enough. His throat aches and Steve moves to get out of his sweater as soon as the jacket has fallen to the floor. He needs to breathe, he needs to get everything off, he needs to, needs to, needs to—

Warm tears are making their way down his cheeks as Steve collapses to his knees. The nail bat is too far away, but he doesn’t know what he would use it for. It doesn’t stop him from crawling towards it, wanting the comfort of the wood in his hand. He has years of practice in how to hug it close without hurting himself on the nails.

If he could only breathe properly, he would be singing. There is one song that still brings him comfort, but only when his mind is playing tricks on him. It’s the song, the one that would save him from Vecna. But Steve is almost hyperventilating when he finally gets his hands on the bat; singing would only make things worse. He could force himself if he heard a clock, but much like the hospital room, all clocks are removed from the house.

Even after months of not seeing his parents, it took until he almost collapsed from a lack of sleep and anxiety before Steve removed them. He still doesn’t know how to explain if his parents come home.

Especially not their prized grandfather clock. It’s safely put away in their bedroom, the pendulum having been removed to stop the chiming. He didn’t dare put it in the garage; couldn’t pack it away in a box like he did all the other clocks.

Thinking about clocks - thinking about his parents - does nothing to help his breathing. Steve is fully hyperventilating, the bat hugged close like it’s a stuffed bear. The tears falling down his cheeks feel endless, and snot has started to run down his nose. His lips are salty when he licks them.

If he were a braver man, Steve would call someone. But everything inside him screams at the concept of willingly showing weakness, especially months after everything happened. He hasn’t had to reassure Robin or Dustin or Lucas over the phone since before the school year started.

He spent the anniversary of the mall burning - of the Russians - with Robin, but after that… everyone else just seemed okay.

Steve could barely get out of bed for all of November; couldn’t do anything at all for Thanksgiving.

The tears come harder at that; at the thought that he’s the only one still suffering. His scars give phantom pain as he curls his torso inwards; trying to make himself small while still hugging the bat close. His whole body shakes with his sobs now, they almost get stuck in his throat as he struggles to get any air.

Steve is back with the vines, is back with the bats, is back with the Russians and the demodogs and the demogorgon in Byers house.

And then the doorbell rings, and he’s in his bedroom, is half-naked on the floor with nails dangerously close to digging into his stomach.

The doorbell rings again and the sound echoing through the house shocks him so badly that he chokes on a sob, almost coughing his lungs out as he tries to get himself in control. Whoever is waiting at the door can’t see him like this; can’t see him as anything else but the fighter, the protector, the shield.

He’s tempted to hide in his room until they leave, but he would never; what if it’s the kids, what if something has happened, what if they need him— Steve’s mind is racing with scenarios - each worse than the one before - as he scrambles to get himself together. The bat gets dropped to the floor, and scratches his stomach in his haste, but he can’t feel it as he covers it up with the sweater. He knows he got the sweater on backwards, but that doesn’t matter if something is wrong.

Steve is trying to scrub his face of all traces of tears as he jogs down the stairs, the doorbell ringing a third and then a fourth time in the background. He knows he doesn’t succeed, knows that his eyes must be puffy and red, knows that there’s snot on his sleeves now, and that his hair is in disarray from where he must have been pulling on it in a useless attempt to ground himself. He knows that he must look like a mess and that he has no explanation that he’s willing to give, but hopefully whoever’s at the door has more important things to worry about than him. Most things are more important than him.

His hands are shaking as he tries to get the front door open; he unlocks it and then locks it again, not able to remember which direction is which as his thoughts fly in hundred directions at once. He’s out of breath when he finally gets it open - from the panic attack that he can still feel, from trying to get presentable and down the stairs as fast as possible - but he plasters a shaky smile on his lips in hope of covering it up.

The smile gets slightly more real but no less shaky when the door has opened enough to reveal Gareth and Eddie, the latter looking ready to press the doorbell a fifth time.

[letterlitter]

Pacify Her

Lando Norris x reader

•Tags: smut, toxic Lando, hate-fuck, makeup sex

•Loosely based on a song by Melanie Martinez with the same title.

•Wordcount: 1.6k

It was unbearable how Lando squeezed this new girl's thigh and whispered in her ear. You knew it was to make you jealous, he was a tease even more when you two were in a relationship. You had really bad arguments that let to the decision of splitting, but since you didn't want to break up the friend group, you agreed to just say the relationship ended on good terms and decided to be friends which was a total lie and both of you knew it.

Now, only a couple months after everything, Lando had shown up with a new "girlfriend" which drove you absolutely mad how uncouth he could be. Bringing this girl in your group out of the blue fully knowing that neither you nor himself had moved on from that deep, long term thing you had.

She looked at you like she wanted to be your friend and get your validation so bad. You didn't know if Lando had told her you were his ex. He didn't even dare mention it when he was introducing her. You automatically hated her, although her big brown eyes seemed lovely and innocent. She didn't have a clue what she had gotten herself into. You pitied her cluelessness.

You noticed Lando's griny glances at you, he kept making sure you were looking before each kiss he left on her cheek. The bastard had all his moves coordinated and planned but you had been with him for too long not to see right through his facade.

You were at your limit, who was he to inflict this hurt on you after all that he had done?

Rage made your body dense as you walked towards Lando's house the night after, when you made sure nobody else was with him. His Friday nights had always been free on purpose to sleep until noon, game, and sleep again. You remember trying to wake him up for lunch and he was dead asleep because he had stayed awake to play with friends.

You rang and he buzzed the door open without asking. Walking towards the stairs you noticed the rose garden you had planted in a corner. The thought of Lando's face after a thorn had poked him in the arm and how he treated the flowers as his enemies forced your lips into a fainted smile. You hated that his memories made you happy. You hated it was him you had those memories with.

You pushed the thoughts away and tried to focus on why you were here. Lando opened the door, a confused look on his face, "y/n? What is it why are you here?"

"We need to talk." And you stormed in.

"Please come in, make yourself comfortable." The sarcasm in his voice was familiar, and now that you weren't in love with him, infuriating.

"Want to talk about what?"

"About how you're being such an asshole."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't act like this Lando I know you did those things on purpose."

"Damn I don't know what you're talking about." He kept his sarcastic tone. You hated it.

You pushed his chest back in anger, "stop playing with me. You know damn well this girl you keep bringing is just a doll to mess with my head."

Lando smiled as if he had been expecting these words from you.

"This is way too low, even for you Lando."

"Everyone thinks we're friends, why can't friends introduce their new girlfriends to their other friends?"

"I'm not everyone. I know this is a lie stop trying to make it sound casual."

"What do you expect me to do? Stay single until you're over me?"

"Yes!" The loud sound that exited your mouth surprised you as it did Lando. You never planned to sound weak or needy. You just wanted to get closure, "look. I'm not trying to control your life or whatever, but what you're doing to make me jealous is messy and fucking pathetic. Fix it. Goodbye." And you started walking towards the door.

"Well did it work?" Lando's voice stopped you. He sounded sort of genuine for the first time in months.

You kept silent and still, wondering what to answer. Turning around to face him you said, "well do you love her?"

"Of course I do. She's very real."

You took one step closer, "stop lying."

Lando took a step closer to you, "stop being jealous."

You took one more step, "she looks way too innocent for you. I pity her."

Lando took another step , "I can teach her."

-"Funny."

-"I know."

-"You're insufferable."

-"I know."

Silence.

Now you were only one step away from eachother. Only one breath. You were mad at him and the tension felt heavy in the air as the sun was halfway set. His eyes looked crazy blue in the last golden rays of sunshine coming in fron his big windows. His face stingy and lips so soft it made you even more angry at him.

Your self control was getting shaky and you felt it shatter when Lando swinged his arms up to hold your face to kiss you deeply on the lips.

You squeezed your hand on his arm in protest to rip him off of you before it was too late but he was desperate.

He kept kissing you harder and harder like you gave him air to breathe.

You hated this. You hated the way his body pulled you in and you hated how it felt so good. He knew his way with you. Every single button, all the nooks and crannies.

You finally eased into the kiss, letting go of Lando's hoodie that was balled up in your fist and started to kiss him back.

His hands unzipped your sweatshirt and pulled it off your arms as soon as he felt that you wanted this as well. You let him. He slipped his hand under your tshirt, pinching your belly, messaging your back.

You let out a heavy exhale.

"I missed you." He whispered into your mouth, putting his lips on yours before you could say anything back.

Lando's hands moved down to your jeans but you held onto his hand to prevent him from going on. He stopped kissing you.

It was all too much for you and you hated him for being so good at this. You stared dead into his eyes, knowing full well that you were helpless, and said, "you fucking bastard."

He giggled when you pressed your debating lips on his again.

You let him kiss your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, your belly. You let him get down on his knees for you, between your legs.

His wet tongue on you made you jump in a surprising pleasure. The tip of his tongue moving in circular motions, in search of the place that made you moan the loudest. You tried fighting the sensation but failed miserably when he raised his finger to your entrance, messaging and warning about what's to come.

The moan that left your lips after he pushed his finger inside you was involuntary. You could feel Lando smiling on your pussy with the sound. He kept moving his tongue with your hand in his curls; pumping his finger and pulling moans out of you until you felt like you could take it no more. That's when Lando pulled his now soaked finger out and stood up, Leaving you clenching around nothing.

He faced you again to continue his kisses; you could taste yourself on his lips as he took off your tshirt and your bra, leaving you completely naked in the middle of the house. He looked at you once more before taking off his own hoodie you've been pulling on to get rid of since the start, he turned you around and got closer. His bulge rubbing against your butt from under his sweatpants.

"You're so pretty." He whispered into your ear, "wait here okay?"

You turned around to see him almost run to his bedroom to get condoms and you got a chance to take a look at his smooth, tan skin as he walked back.

Lando kissed you shoulder and your back as he slowly bent you over the handle of the couch. Messaging your body as he bent on you to let you feel his skin, his pants were off, your could feel his hard dick against the back of your leg. He adjusted himself on you and pushed in. You weren't hesitant to moan anymore. His length inside you was a familiar sensation of pleasure after this long. He was all you needed.

Lando started pumping deeper into you, making you feel fully stretched. You could hear his little groans and exhales when he grabbed your neck to make you arch your back more, pulling your head towards his mouth. "I bet nobody fucked you like this since I was gone." And he started moving faster. You pushed back your body into his, blurring the lines infront of your eyes.

You came within seconds after that.

He pulled out of you. You turned around quickly, grabbed his shoulders and lead him to the couch to sit down.

"Could you ever teach her this?"

And you climbed on top of him, each leg on each side. Leading his still erect dick to your hole and pushing down on him. Lando threw his head back with a moan. You took his hands and put them on your ass. He squeezed his hands with every movement you made.

You started kissing under his ear, where you knew he was sensitive. Moans started turning into whimpers and he started pushing up his legs towards you. You both moved faster as you reached your high. You nails dug into Lando's shoulder and his hands tight around your back when you both came and you collapsed into his arms.

****

"What a stupid decision." You said through your panting and you both giggled since you knew you were going to make more.

(This is the first time I'm posting a smut one shot online sorry if it's short or lacking♡)

[zmbiesuga]

TWENTY TWENTY VISION — m. atsumu x gn!reader

sypnosis: atsumu needs glasses, but why on earth would he make his & your life easier by wearing them?

warnings: i'm gonna beat the shit out of atsumu oh my GOD he irks me so bad, post-timeskip atsumu, eensy bit of angst if you squint super super hard, osamu mention, i can't write the miya accent™ for the life of me but i tried so sorry, petnames such as baby used, he calls the reader pretty

notes: inspired by the fact that i just recently got my new glass and haven't had a pair since i was 14 so seeing the world focused fucks with me a lil bit, ALSO, atsumu with glasses has been flooding my brain, osamu is farsighted cause i said so

"I'm not wearin' 'em."

"Atsumu, please, you need to wear them, you have astigmatism in both of your eyes! And you're nearsighted!"

Atsumu lets out a soft huff as he crosses his arms, as if he isn't the reason you've been having this argument essentially since you brought up him even getting his eyes checked.

It all started when Osamu had gotten new glasses, that's what Atsumu thinks anyways, that this is all stupid Samu's fault.

Osamu came over one afternoon for a harmless visit, with new glasses on. You had asked Osamu about them, and commented that you never knew he needed glasses to which he responded:

"Oh yeah, me and Tsumu both do, he just hasn't worn his since junior high."

You swear you've never seen Atsumu react so quickly, his head snapping to Osamu and immediately telling him to shut up through gritted teeth. The subject gets dropped instantly, but now you're giving Atsumu side-glances throughout the night until Osamu leaves.

After you two are settled into bed and Atsumu is almost asleep, until your voice rings out in the dark.

"Is that why you squint so much?" you ask in a voice barely above a whisper.

"...What are ya on about?" Atsumu asks, turning to face you with a soft expression.

"Is that why you squint so much?" you ask again, "Because you don't wear glasses like you're supposed to, so the world's all unfocused for you all the time, is that why?"

Atsumu's silence and stunned expression is all the answer you need.

"That's what I thought," you mumble before turning away from him, "your eye appointment is Saturday at four."

And that puts Atsumu where he is now, sitting at the island connected to the kitchen in your small apartment, staring down the thick black lenses as if he was trying to explode them with his mind.

"I said, I ain't wearin' 'em," he huffs again vehemently, looking at you with an unwilling expression, "and that's final. I don't need no stupid glasses, I can see just fine."

"Oh yeah?" you challenge, palms resting against the island as you stand on the opposite side of it, "If you don't need your glasses, read the paper on our fridge. Without squinting."

Atsumu's face goes a little pale, his eyes widening slightly. He looks over your shoulder at the paper held onto the fridge with a stupid magnet in the shape of a volleyball.

"It, uh..." he trails off, trying to not squint as much as possible, "...it...it doesn't matter what it says! I'm still not wearin' those glasses! I don't need 'em!"

"Atsumu that paper is no more than four feet away from you, and you can't even tell me what the bolded title says," you responded in an almost pleading tone, "baby, you need your glasses, so I am begging you, please put them on."

Atsumu's face softens slightly at your pleading voice, before it turns unwilling again as he looks down at his arms and mumbles something you can't quite make out.

"What was that?" you ask.

"...They make me look dumb," he repeats a little louder, looking back up at you, "they make me look like an idiot, and since my eyes aren't used to being focused, I feel like a baby deer learnin' how to walk."

"Tsumu," you reply gently, your own expression softening, "if you didn't like the way glasses look, why didn't you ask for contacts?"

"Because they scare me," he rebuttals, "which I know is stupid because they're an easy solution to my problem, but they rip and get stuck and...I don't know, that just scares me."

You stare at him blankly before taking a deep breath, "Atsumu," you start, "I'm not...trying to make you look stupid, okay? I just know that you need them, and you know that too. It might be awkward at first, but won't it be worth it to see the world a little more clearer? So you won't have to squint to read traffic signs or drive through menus? And, glasses aren't a permanent solution, we can work our way up to contacts, but you need to wear these for now."

Atsumu looks down at the glasses again, letting out another unsure sigh as he picks the thick rims up, and places them on his face.

It's weird at first, everything is clearer. The titanium fridge, that stupid volleyball magnet and the paper it holds, and more importantly...

You.

The way your entire face shifts into focus leaves Atsumu speechless. He knows how pretty you are, he doesn't need glasses to see it, but god do they make it better.

You give Atsumu a weird look, "What?" you ask puzzled, "Can you see better?"

"Yeah," he responds with a small smile, "I can see real good, pretty."

[gotham-daydreams]

How would it have gone differently if Reader didn't try to be an "overachiever" and instead just stayed quiet and didn't interact with anyone besides Alfred until they left? Their room they left being mostly blank, with only the music journals? Giving up on trying to get their attention.

I think what's so funny about this ask, to me, is that I already have a concept like this written down (along with 3 others since the current reader I'm writing for the "Not [ ]" series is one of them but with a few missing details), so this'll be fun!

I guess it generally goes how you'd expect? Which is different for the most part, but the reader's perspective on what's happening is also different.

Granted, I would like to point out that, at least for this particular concept and the idea I have for it of how this would go, does have more stuff going on pre-Batfam that do affect how they perceive what's happening, and that's what makes things interesting in my opinion. Because someone can be naturally shy or just overall more reserved either out of nature or because they feel a certain way, but still feel bad about being neglected and, despite their lack of effort, feel that pain just as much as someone who's tried. Which is valid! Besides, someone's definition of 'trying' can vary as well.

Everyone should have a chance to have a family, and form some kind of connection with people. Just because you aren't going above and beyond for one person, doesn't mean you're undeserving of certain things. Especially not a chance to have a family, or feel like you have one. That's what I think anyway.

Nevertheless, back to the reader!

From the original concept, I will be tweaking a few things to fit the ask, but the same general outcome remains! Though again, the reader's perspective on things is a tad different. But how about this- I'll show two versions of the reader.

One that's quiet and more reserved because they gave up much earlier, or just generally hopeless really early on because maybe they felt as if anything they'd do just wouldn't be enough, who'll be accurately named Quiet!Reader. With the other being more closely related to the concept I wrote for such an idea, that we'll refer to as Waiting!Reader.

Quiet!Reader would change up things quite a bit! I won't lie!

They might already have bad self-esteem that's quick to develop at the start of things, which is something to note as that doesn't get better with time. They grow more cold and distant from the family at a quicker pace both from personal and external reasons.

Put simply, they don't feel good enough, and even if they did- anything they could do to get the Batfam's attention would never be enough in their eyes. To which, they see very early on when they try to engage and do some things with the family, only to be turned down. What doesn't help is when Quiet!Reader sees Damian get adopted and almost immediately showered with love, (compared to them) and that really cements some ideas that were already developing in their head about the family.

When Damian comes into the picture, they feel replaced. Seeing him as someone to fill in the 'youngest Wayne' role instead of them, so that Bruce and the others actually have someone to acknowledge for such a title. Just someone else to further take away the little they had.

So, they further step out of the way, glaring at the Batfam with tired eyes before that eventually stops too. Envy clawing at their heart, hatred being sent through waves of pain all throughout their body. Hurt unmatched. Yet they still remain invisible. Quiet as ever. Unnoticed. Everything they ever felt dies down, and forms a cold numbness that they begin to associate with the family.

Maybe through that, they feel closer to the family in some twisted way. Now just as cold as them. Just as talkative, and just as engaging. Almost mirroring them, but they're honest about how they feel. Honest about what they think, and therefore better. At least when compared to the Batfam- and to them, even if it wasn't a high bar to reach anyway, at least it counts for something.

It was never Damian's fault, or really about Damian at all. It could've been anyone else and Quiet!Reader would've still reacted the same way, they know that. Though just seeing the Batfam show love and care to him and not them just makes them feel... worse.

Clearly they're capable of love, and can notice new additions to the family (to which they may have mostly believed that the Batfam's neglect was just something the family did for whatever reason, and thought that them being the youngest had something to do with it for a while) and that breaks the reader. It doesn't hurt, not as much as it would've, maybe, but whatever hurt is there dies down quickly as Quiet!Reader, well, quietly accepts their fate.

The Batfam clearly wants nothing to do with them, so why should they try to do all of these things for them? It's simple, they shouldn't. So they don't. Quiet!Reader gives up, and continues to live their life without them.

The Manor just becomes a place they sleep in, and nothing else. It isn't anything close to a home, and not even Alfred can help with that.

It's because of that little fact, however, that Quiet!Reader leaves much sooner than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series. Maybe once they get a friend they can trust, they essentially end up living with said friend, hence why their room remains so empty. The notebooks they even keep in the room they have in the Manor is from when they were way younger, instead of just being from a few months ago or so. We're talking years since Quiet!Reader has touched those things now.

Maybe they do 'officially' leave a month or so before they usually would as an overachiever in the "Not [ ]" series, having only bothered to return so often before because of Alfred. Though even then, they'd forget to return most nights- only being reminded to even try and go back once Alfred would personally call them, and ask them where they were.

However now, after a while of just the time between them basically living with their friend and sleeping at the manor, they stop returning altogether. Though this time around they instead personally go to Alfred to say they're goodbyes. Not explaining much, but just saying that while they might still try to come and visit him sometimes, they don't live in the Manor anymore. Alfred already knows this, and the embrace they share fully hammers in that fact.

Yet when Quiet!Reader turns away, and leaves the Manor for good- even through the front door at that. Alfred can't help but just... miss them already.

You see, while Quiet!Reader is indeed quieter and more reserved, especially towards the Batfam, with Alfred really being the only exception, they still made music.

Maybe they didn't have as many concerts or physical, grand, live performances compared to the reader in the "Not [ ]" series, they not only started earlier, but may have actually started out on a social platform such a youtube. They really started out small, but were able to find and start their passion much earlier!

Most of what they played was when they were in the Manor, but slowly they started to get involved with things music related outside of the Manor and in Gotham- and from there were able to build themselves up even more. Hell, I'd even say that Quiet!Reader is a little more well-known and popular than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series because of the amount of extra time they dedicated to their passion.

So basically, Alfred this time around has more recordings and such of Quiet!Reader actually doing something they love than with the one in the series. However! Funnily enough, they're gone for a shorter amount of time despite having left earlier than normal.

Alfred is just, extra fed up with this nonsense, and so pulls his tricks more early on, but also make them hit harder.

He doesn't clean Quiet!Reader's room to show how long they've been gone, adding onto the emptiness and almost abandoned feeling the room itself gives off because of how bare and empty it is. They're music haunts the halls, subtle, sure, but still noticeable- especially to those who are hyper aware all the time. Pictures of Quiet!Reader and Alfred begin to be hung up, and if he can manage- some with Quiet!Reader and their friends during important parts of their life.

No one is safe from the guilt and anguish Alfred seeks to cause to not only have the Batfam look for you, but most importantly, to finally notice you.

Let's just say, things work out a little too well.

---

As for Waiting!Reader? Oh man, I've been wanting to rant about them for a while!

Unlike the reader in the "Not [ ]" series and Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader had some semblance of a life before getting adopted into the Batfam. Though the idea and character themself isn't musically inclined/involved in music, or even all that interested in music for that matter- for the sake of this ask, lets say they are!

I won't dabble too much into the life Waiting!Reader had before the Batfam, as if I do end up writing them I'd also like to keep some details vague (for the sake of leaving it up to interpretation and everything), but just know that during the time they were still with their original family, they were essentially taught that they should 'wait their turn', and eventually their parents would spend time with them and care for them. Hence the little name I've given them.

So! When they get to the Manor and are officially adopted, only to be neglected and ignored during their first few attempts- because of their young age, they immediately think "oh! they're just like mom and dad!" So they 'wait' for 'their turn', believing that eventually, should they wait long enough, they'll be rewarded with bonding and such from the Batfam just as they were with their previous parents.

This mindset changes what they do as well, as Waiting!Reader even goes out of their way to not bother anyone, or "get in the way" of whatever they could be doing. Waiting!Reader treats the situation so much like their previous home life, that sometimes they might even forget that the Batfam are completely different people from their parents. The only real difference that they can think of is that they're not acknowledged at all and it seems like their 'turn' never comes. Though for a while that doesn't get them down. The Batfam is busy like they're parents were! Waiting!Reader is sure that when things die down then they'll have their time.

... Hopefully.

I can imagine that part of the reason why Waiting!Reader holds on to hope for so long is because, again, their own parents constantly reassured them that they would have their time eventually. That if they behaved, and stayed out of the way, then they would go somewhere fun with their parents and essentially be rewarded for their efforts. They were conditioned to wait, to be patient, and just comply until those around them decided to actually take care of them, and spend time with them.

Of course, as they grow up the reality of the situation does hit them eventually, but during that time they do try.

Waiting!Reader helps Alfred around the house, and so they mostly bond over doing chores, among other things. They are also more mindful, and try to keep the amount of noise they back down— so they actually don't play at the Manor all that often, and instead play literally anywhere else. If and when they do play outside, around the area of the Manor like in the gardens or something, they make sure no one is around before even thinking of playing.

Alfred does help them break a few of their habits that they got while living with their parents, but the one thing he can't seem to 'fix' is how absolutely quiet Waiting!Reader is when they walk around. Which, as on can imagine, doesn't exactly help in a situation where the whole family, except for the butler, is neglecting you.

The amount of times Waiting!Reader has caught Alfred off guard is more then you'd think for someone that works with the Dark Knight, and his various sidekicks and such, over the years. Which does say something, sure, but it's also funny!

Regardless, similar to Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader is able to start their musical career earlier than normal, and thuse becomes a little more popular than they would originally. However, they're more known for their live performances and giving back to the community. Seemingly just like Bruce as they attend charity event after charity event, and try to do good by the people.

Waiting!Reader also does genuinely try to become a vigilante as well, but they do so in a way where they only take care of the smaller/medium guys, and leave the bigger ones to the rest of the Batfam. This is because they want to remove possible distractions for their family, and while they would try to take on "bigger guys", they don't think they're skilled enough or experienced enough to even think about it. So they don't even try. (They also don't have the same theme as the Batfam- since they don't want to 'ruin' their reputation with what they're doing or something. Which does hell them further detach themself from the family later on.)

I'd say that with Waiting!Reader, the difference between them and the Batfam is more clear to them? Like, to them, the Batfam are just so good at what they do that they have no hope of reaching them. So instead of trying to reach for them, they just do their own thing and try to help in their own way.

Because Waiting!Reader takes care of smaller guys, they are kind of closer to Waiting!Reader as a vigilante.

The best way I can put it is that while the community trusts Batman and the members of the Batfam to save their city, they trust Waiting!Reader to save their homes.

So basically- Batfam is the bigger picture while Waiting!Reader focuses on the smaller picture.

Nevertheless! Also like Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader actually leaves earlier. Except when they leave, they leave.

Waiting!Reader straight up leaves Gotham City to attend the college that they want to go to, in an area that has more opportunity for them, that isn't close to where the Batfam lives or patrols.

So they not only leave earlier, but it also takes the Batfam longer to find them. Especially because Waiting!Reader does still do some things in Gotham, they just don't live there anymore.

I feel like out of all three readers, Waiting!Reader definitely feels like the kind of person that someone would assume is some kind of "Phantom of the Wayne Manor," y'know?

So Alfred definitely tries to make the Batfam feel bad like he does with Quiet!Reader. Except how anyone in the Batfam is reminded that Waiting!Reader even exists, and that they've been gone for a while now is through a letter that is accidentally sent to the Wayne Manor from one of Waiting!Reader's fans. From there, some research does start and the more the Batfam learns, the more they want to go and find the reader- you know the deal.

I hope this answered your question even if I really did ramble on this time- if you'd like me to clarify anything or go into more detail on a specific part, feel free to send in an ask!

[midnightcrw]

Baby making

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: After years of marriage, you and Simon come to a decision

Warning: Smut, unprotected p in v (please use a condom everyone), breeding (I never thought I would be using this word), creampie (I also never thought I would be using this word either)

a/n: This really isn't the best, which I'm sorry for, but I was genuinely bored and had nothing to do. I also realised that it's really not the best for me to be bored. I'm also terrible at coming up with titles. Someone actually needs to help me with that

"You sure you want this?" Simon asked, looking at you with worried eyes as he held himself up with his hands on either side of your head. He didn't want you to do anything that you might regret and this wasn't something you could take back.

And lying in bed, already naked, didn't make it any less nerve-wracking for you. The two of you had already talked about having a child, both wanting to have one in the future and now after five years of marriage, you felt the urge to have a baby even more.

"Yes, I want to have a baby with you," you said, looking into his eyes. The condom in his hand had been discarded the moment you proposed the idea, leaving it on the bedside table.

"But do you want a child now?" You asked him, not wanting to overstep and do something that would make him uncomfortable. Even if he didn't want to have a child with you now, you would be more than content.

Simon's eyes softened a fraction as he leaned down, now on his forearms, to rest his forehead on yours. "I would be more than happy to have a child with you. But you're the one who will carry the child, I just want you to be sure about this."

"I am sure," you whispered, looking deep into his eyes as he pressed a kiss on your lips. Kissing Simon always made you feel some type of way, but this time it felt different. You were almost impatient as Simon moved one of his hands down between your thighs.

But before he could slide his finger inside of you, you stopped his hand with your own, holding his wrist. "I want you inside of me, now," you said, still keeping your eyes on him.

Simon chuckled softly, kissed your cheek and leaned down to your ear, "Impatient, are we?" His hoarse voice sent shivers down your spine.

"Please," you muttered. Your husband nodded slightly as he slowly pushed himself inside of you, making you both gasp for air.

At first he started of with slow thrusts until you both couldn't hold yourselves back anymore, finally feeling him raw inside of you.

“Too deep…” you gasped against Simon’s lips. Your hands scratched his back with your nails as his length pushed deep into your cunt. His grip on your thighs was tight and pleasantly painful as your wet, pulsating walls greedily sucked him in. With each thrust, he buried himself deeper inside of you while your legs were spread wide by him.

“You take me so well,” his voice sounded rough and breathy against your lips, muffling your moans. Each stroke of his hip made you slowly fall apart as he spoke between the kisses he gave you, “Take all of it.” He moaned out breathlessly, his thrusts forcing more sounds from your lips. He didn't hold back like he usually did and it didn't bother you at all.

“Simon!” you moaned. Your body trembled beneath his relentless pounding as Simon slid his tongue into your mouth. Your muffled moans begged him not to stop, to fill you up until you couldn't take it anymore.

You moaned his name again as the intense pleasure added to your aching pussy and aching hips. His cock hitting your sensitive spot. He's going to fill you up, that's the only thought in his head right now and how satisfied he would be to see his cum spilling out of your slit and have your walls swallowing most of it.

Your hands gripped the sheets and your husband pushed his body up until he hovered over you. His eyes were intimidating and sharp as ever, while his brows were furrowed as sweat dripped down his scarred body. The sound of skin slapping became more pronounced as he drew back and quickly slammed into you. Hissed curses slipped from his parted lips as you came around him, almost making you cry.

“Fuck, Si-” you sobbed, biting your lip. You hadn't even come down from your high. Feeling his throbbing length inside of you, being close to his own release. Your legs trembled in his grip, unable to keep your hips from bucking. But Simon's grip didn't loosen, too focused on filling you up to pay any attention to your sensitive body. His hips slapping against yours before halting to shoot his seed deep inside of you.

You gasped and looked down between your bodies to see his cum leaking out of you and staining the bed, still panting and whimpering for air. Your eyes moved to his face as you met his eyes. They softened as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, loosening his painful grip on you.

And with that, Simon slowly pulled out, slipping two of his fingers inside you to help you slowly close up, trying not to overstimulate you any further.

"You did so good," he whispered in his deep voice, peppering your face with kisses as your body shivered, still clenching around his fingers as he slowly thrusted them in and out of you.

You whimpered once Simon slipped out his fingers, almost feeling empty. And when he was about to carry you both to the bathroom to clean up, you pulled him down by his arm, hugged him. "Later," you mumbled, wanting to relax first before doing anything else.

Simon nodded, embracing you in his arms as you rested your head on his chest. "I love you," you said, hearing his fast heartbeat against your ear.

"I love you too," he said back, knowing that this next step in life, will bring a whole new kind of adventure that he will be more than happy with as long as you are by his side.

[murdockparker]

Roses and Regrets - Part 1

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Freshly out of mourning, Lady Barlow, née (Y/L/N), makes her re-debut in society. If only she could simply ignore a certain viscount...

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: none. enemies to lovers!!

A/N: I didn't expect this lil requested fic to turn into such an event, let alone a multi-part story! so, you're welcome or I'm sorry?

next part

__

She was perfectly happy. 

Well, supposedly right now she wasn’t. 

Her husband, Lord Barlow, had passed away ten months ago, leaving her with an empty estate, a shiny title and more money than she knew what to do with. Lord Barlow was an old viscount, desperate for an heir and willing to do anything to get one. 

In came Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

Young, beautiful and well-bred, she was the perfect choice for any man of the ton. If only her father hadn’t a penchant for gambling. Perhaps she’d be married to a man more suited for her rather than the oaf of a dustbin she was forced to be with. She was no fool in believing in a love match for herself, rare and far between as they were, no, but she did have half a mind to imagine a kinder man as her husband. A man who perhaps cared even a little bit for her wellbeing. 

No matter. 

A dead man cannot care for her wellbeing either. 

“Lady Barlow,” a maid knocked, entering the ornate drawing room.

“Yes?” (Y/N) did not look up from her reading—the newest edition of Whistledown had just been delivered. While she herself was never one to gossip terribly, it was quite fun to keep up with the circus of the season. 

“Do you plan on attending the Danbury ball this eve?”

“I do not see the point,” she scoffed playfully, “after all, Meg, I am but a widow in mourning.”

“Perhaps her ladyship should reconsider?” Meg asked gently, placing a new pot of tea next to her lady. “I rather think it has been a socially acceptable amount of time since your husband’s passing.”

“If I am not to enjoy the perks of being a widow,” (Y/N) sighed, finally looking up at her favorite lady’s maid, “whatever is the point?”

“Perks that Viscount Barlow has graciously allowed you to use during your time of mourning—”

“The current viscount is all but twelve,” (Y/N) reminded. “He has no use for this estate in Mayfair until he himself becomes an adult, in which, I am sure he and his mother will come to make use of it. I believe if my maths are correct, that leaves me all of six years or so to use this home.”

“Forgive me my lady, but should you not be looking for a new husband, then?”

(Y/N) smiled at Meg. She enjoyed their friendship, her maid being only a handful of years older than herself, it made for a likely pair. “No one wishes to marry a widow,” she said simply, “widows are damaged goods. Every sensible man of the ton will be wanting a pretty little virgin instead.”

“My lady!”

“What?” She barked a laugh. “You know it to be true.”

“Regardless,” Meg said, clearing her throat. “Lord Barlow passed nearly a year ago, the period of mourning is rightfully over. You are expected to rejoin society.”

“Dreadful.”

“It is expected,” Meg repeated.

“It does not make it any less dreadful,” (Y/N) said. “Very well. Pull a dress and prepare a bath, it seems the ton gets to see my dreary face once again.”

—

Anthony Bridgerton was a man scorned. 

Particularly by his own mother in this very instance. How foolish he had been to share his intentions of marriage this season with her—for now she spread the news like a wildfire. Every desperate mama and her equally desperate daughter came flocking to him like bees to honey. 

It was only now, in the dark corner of the ballroom, that he found a respite.

“Looking a bit green, Lord Bridgerton,” a voice beside him called out. 

“I am not—” Anthony had huffed a reply before even knowing whom he was speaking to. “Lady Barlow.”

“I am shocked you can recall my name,” (Y/N) laughed over her champagne flute. “Considering how many new ones you’ve had thrown at you this eve.”

“You are out of mourning.”

“Is that a question?”

“It was an observation,” Anthony corrected.

“What gave it away? My bright dress? No tear stains left on my cheeks?”

“You are here, out and about,” Anthony said. “And, forgive me for not playing along with your delusions, but I do not think you cried much at all for Lord Barlow’s passing.”

“How dare you assume such a thing,” (Y/N) faux gasped. She had intended on pressing a hand to her chest. Intended, anyway. Somehow she forgot all about the champagne currently residing it her grasp. “Damn… this was a new dress too.”

“Good God,” he laughed. “First you are spilling all over yourself like a child and now you are cursing—tell me, do all married ladies act like you?”

“I am a widow,” (Y/N) had found a cloth and begun dabbing up the spill. It had only dribbled at most, but still, it was a new dress. “I rather think I can act the way I please.”

“Like a drunkard?”

“Like a free woman,” she said, fighting every childish urge to stick her tongue out at the viscount. “I am only here to show my face, prove I am still alive and I shall go about my merry way.”

“Lady Danbury is a widow,” Anthony noted. “Yet she still mingles with society.”

“I am not Lady Danbury.”

“You are not.”

“Do you not have young misses to go and woo?” (Y/N)’s eyes hardened. “Take your pick from the litter, Lord Bridgerton, any of them would be pleased to spend such valuable time with you.”

“Are you insinuating you are not?”

“I rather thought it was a statement, yes,” (Y/N) said.

Anthony’s eyes went only a fraction wider, nostrils flaring. “Well, if that is what you wish—”

“It is not a mean of wishing,” she laughed, “but really a necessity.”

“Good evening, Lady Barlow,” Anthony sneered, smoke practically coming out of his ears. If (Y/N) had half a mind she’d call for the authorities to put that fire out, instead, she simply finished her drink and smiled wistfully at the dancing ballroom, feeling fulfilled. 

—

Dearest Gentle Reader,

The season is in full swing thanks to the mark of Lady Agatha Danbury’s ball, a notable and traditional first event of the London scene. Eligible young ladies now on the Marriage Mart were enjoying their first taste at what fine society has to offer, however taxing or daunting it may be. 

Our resident Capital ‘R’ Rake, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton is finally deciding on a wife, surely making him the finest catch of the season. Matchmaking mamas and their young ladies alike were seen flocking to him like petulant children asking their parents for pin money, thanks to his own mother, Lady Bridgerton’s declaration of such an idea last night. The viscount seemingly had enough of the attention, taking like a wallflower and hiding away in the back of the ballroom near the end of the evening. 

His company? None other than Lady Barlow, evidently out of mourning as of last night. While the this Author is under good authority that the match between Lady Barlow and the late Lord Barlow was not a love match, given their fourty or fifty year age difference, it has taken the new dowager viscountess longer than most anticipated for her to get back into the season. A woman as young as Lady Barlow would be eager to find another husband to support her, but something tells me that she is quite enjoying her time as a widow and will not easily give that up. 

While this Author has very little idea of the actual nature of the relationship between Lord Bridgerton and Lady Barlow, it is only to be assumed that it is simply not a favorable one. The two were seen making a scene by the refreshment table, a scene that went unnoticed by many prying eyes of the ton, leaving Lord Bridgerton storming away and Lady Barlow with the winning hand. 

Good show, Lady Barlow. 

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

—

“Brother! You are in Whistledown!” Eloise sang to no one in particular. 

“I have no care that I am in that gossip rag,” Anthony ground out, rustling his newspaper. “I can only imagine it is just another advertisement of my search for a wife this season.”

“Er, yes, however—”

“However?” Anthony’s attention immediately shot up to his sister, newspaper be damned. 

“Who is Lady Barlow?” Eloise asked. 

“No one of importance,” Anthony could feel his temperature rising. 

“Lady Barlow?” Benedict laughed. “Is that who you were talking to last night dear Brother? Is she not still in mourning?”

“No.”

“No it is not who you were talking to, or no she is not still in mourning?” Benedict gave his brother an amusing glance.

“Oh, according to Whistledown—”

“Sister—”

“Eloise, you may not recall Lady Barlow, given you only just came out this season,” Benedict began, deciding that this conversation was very much worth his time this morning. “But she used to go by Miss (Y/L/N) before her marriage to the late viscount.”

“(Y/L/N)…” Eloise looked to the ceiling, finding nothing in particular. “Oh! Is she not the woman who—”

“I am taking my leave,” Anthony said abruptly, newspaper all but forgotten. 

“Escaping, Brother?” Benedict asked. 

“I have calls to make,” Anthony sneered, ignoring the pleased face his brother was making. “Excuse me.”

“It seems Lady Barlow is a touchy subject,” Eloise noted as her eldest brother left the drawing room. Benedict snorted. “What?”

“You do not even know the half of it, dear Sister.”

Anthony Bridgerton, did not in fact, have any calls to make. He had no impressionable interactions last night to warrant such a visit to anyone—the Queen was still in need of naming her diamond, after all—but he had no desire to stay and be berated by his family this morning. He truly had no plan, no thought in his head on where he was going, he just simply was. 

Apparently he was going to the park.

It was still early in the day, few people graced the park at such an hour. The few who did, however, were too busy reading the latest Whistledown to even notice him. Anthony saw a handful of post boys running opposite of his direction on his way here, it was only natural they scoped out this location. He knew it was going to be a problem the minute they finished reading—if Lady Whistledown truly wrote about him, which he had no reason to believe his sister was lying about, all eyes would be on him.

“Might as well enjoy the peace and quiet for now,” Anthony exhaled. He took a quick glance at his watch—half past eight. Hardly could he recall a time he took a turn about the park on his own, usually he was in the company of his family or holed away in his study worrying about expenses and the like, never did he take a moment to actually enjoy the grand weather such as the kind today. Determined to enjoy it, he sat down on a favorable bench and watched the birds swim across the pond.

“Unbelievable.”

He turned his head, only to find Lady Barlow dressed in a rather pleasantly pink dress and matching hat, a look of distaste on her face.

“I didn’t take you as the park-going type, Lord Bridgerton,” she nodded, folding her hands. She had been carrying a small red book in one of them. “Especially at such an early hour, too.”

“Lady Barlow,” he nearly sneered. “Can a man not enjoy the park?”

“Oh surely a man can,” (Y/N) agreed. “But you? You are no man.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It seems to me that you’re sitting in my spot,” she ignored his quip, readjusting her stance in annoyance. “This is where I come to read.”

“Can you not read elsewhere?” Anthony asked. “There is an entire park at your disposal.”

“No,” she hummed. “Afraid not.”

“No?” He laughed. “Surely out of the entire park you can find a suitable spot to read your—let me guess—romantically inclined fodder?”

“Poetry,” she corrected, “and no, I cannot simply read elsewhere. The shade is just right under this tree and I rather like overlooking the pond between my chapters.”

“Shame I got here first, then,” Anthony clicked.

“You…!” (Y/N) scoffed, fighting every urge in her body to stomp her foot. “You are an impossible man, surely you know that?”

“I thought you said I was no man?” Anthony’s brow quirked. “Or perhaps I misheard?”

She scowled. “You are not amusing.”

“On the contrary,” Anthony leaned back on the bench, stretching his arms and taking his claim. “I find myself very amusing.”

A duck quacked from the pond, either laughing at the viscount or agreeing with him—it was hard to tell. 

“You leave me no choice,” (Y/N) said sternly, taking a seat on the other end of the bench—feeling worlds apart from the man on the far side. In actuality, it couldn’t have been more than two feet, three at most.

“Truly?” Anthony laughed humorlessly. “You cannot be serious.”

“Hush,” (Y/N) said, opening her book in earnest. “I am trying to read.”

While there had been no guns drawn, this was a duel, in every sense of the word. Both parties sitting still as statues, Anthony’s gaze trained on the pond, (Y/N)’s on her book. Occasionally, she’d flip her page to the next, huffing every time Anthony still did not get up and move on. 

Stubborn. Both of them.

“Will you be quiet?” Anthony said, growing exasperated. “I cannot think when you are breathing so loud—” 

“You wish for me not to breathe?” She shut her book. “I never anticipated you’d wish me dead—”

“Please,” Anthony said. “You know that is not what I mean at all.”

“I never know with you. You, Anthony Bridgerton, are an enigma and I hope I never have the pleasure of truly understanding you,” (Y/N) said, fingers whiting from her grip on her book.

“So you admit it would be pleasurable?”

She wanted to wipe that grin off of his face, how, she was unsure. Idly, she thought about how a good smack to his cheek would feel. Painful in the moment but oh-so wonderful after, cathartic, probably. “I am not getting up.”

“Neither am I.”

“I am willing to die on this bench,” (Y/N) spat.

“Funnily enough,” Anthony’s voice dropped, “so am I.”

“How are you to find your viscountess on this bench?” She asked, angling her body towards the torturous man. “Surely you do not expect her to just walk past?”

“I am sure I can manage,” Anthony said calmly. “Many young ladies will walk this way when they see me sitting here."

“Even with another woman sitting beside you?”

“I rather think they’ll find you easy to ignore, I know I do.”

“Ha! You are truly something else, Lord Bridgerton,” (Y/N) sat straighter. “Insulting a polite woman in public?”

“You are the furthest thing from polite,” Anthony leaned in. “Rude, ostentatious, quite full of herself—”

“Might I offer you a mirror?” The grip on her book tightened, cover bending from the force. “Or are you afraid you’ll see horns?”

“Oh, do they match yours?” He nearly sang. 

“Funny,” she clicked, finally setting her book down, lacing her fingers together in her lap. “You should run a comedy act at the circus, seeing as you are a right clown.”

Anthony stood up, whether by the force of his breath or sheer spite he will never know. “You are the most ridiculous woman I have ever met.”

(Y/N) met his height, now standing as well. “And you are the most irritating man I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“I am going to walk this way,” Anthony said, forcefully pointing to his right, eyes not leaving hers. She did have the most remarkable eyes.

“And I will walk this way,” she pointed to her left, less force in her action but seething all the same. “Have the day you deserve, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Why you little…!”

She had already turned and stomped away, a fuming smudge of pink against the greenery of the park, growing further away with every step.

“What a wretched woman,” he mumbled, looking down at his watch again—nine on-the-dot. In the corner of his eye, something bright red caught his attention. Her book. She had left it behind.

Perhaps he would burn it.

Perhaps he would just put it in his pocket and carry about his day.

In the pocket it went. For now.

[larluce]

Arthur travels back in time to save Merlin (from becoming a tree) AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART2 (You're here) , PART 3

The king of Camelot goes to visit his magic tree before his next battle. This isn't new. He always visits it. But it will be the last time he does it.

Arthur: (caressing the bark of the tree with a hand)It's finally time. I'm sorry it took so long. (sighs) And I'm sorry I have to do this.

He knows he's being selfish. Camelot is better than ever, his people is happy and yet he's going to war, risking this era of peace. A war he knows he won't come back from. But it's necessary.

Gwen: (arriving) Arthur...

Arthur: I won't change my mind, Guinivere

Gwen: I know. I just want to understand. Arthur, why? The price is too high and the chance it might work too slim. And even if it does work, you are risking that everything you know, everything you built will never happen.

Arthur: It's a risk I'm willing to take. I can prevent so many things from happening, not only Merlin's fate, but Gawain's, Elyan's, Lancelot's-

Gwen: Don't pretend you're not doing this just for him, Arthur, I'm not a fool.

Arthur: ...

Gwen: He wouldn't want you to do this. And you know it.

Arthur: Yeah, well, he didn't care about what I wanted when he made that stupid deal.

It's been ten years since Merlin saved his life and was cursed to be a tree forever as a payback. He was now a majestic beautiful tree in the royal garden and the most valuable national treasure in Camelot due to its magical properties: It could give fruits with the ability to cure all ills and the most serious wounds, but also could give ones with the most letal poison. Its wood was the finest. Once it let some branches fall for its king before an important battle and the weapons that were made with them are still as good as new to this day. Though Arthur did his part, he knows Camelot probably would not have obtained the title of the greatest, richest and most prosperous kingdom if it weren't for his Merlin.

However, not everything was sunshine and rainbows. Like every treasure it was also coveted by everyone who wanted to use it for their own selfish purposes. Kingdoms envious of his power sent spies to try to steal its fruits, its branches and even to try to cut it down to leave Camelot defenseless. Others even tried to invade Camelot just to posses the magic tree, but Camelot's army was the strongest in all Albion so they never could and soon they stopped trying.

There was a time they almost got too close though. Once Arthur found a man holding an ax stuck deep in Merlin's trunk. He has gone so mad with fury, he almost beat the man to death if it weren't because his knights stopped him before he made the final blow. He was still livid after that, but he let Gwen handle the man's trial, because he knew he wouldn't be reasonable in the state he was in. In the end the man was sentenced to beheading. It was what the law decreed since touching the King's tree was by law an act of treason. The king who sent the spy had to make a public apology and give monetary compensation to avoid a war. Arthur did make sure the spy's head was cut of with his own ax though. Later, when he was alone with his tree, Arthur cried because he almost lost Merlin again. The king apologised to him over and over again between sobs and cried until he fell asleep at the tree's roots.

It was then when it hit him. One day he would die and there won't be anyone to protect Merlin from greedy people who will only use his power for their own gains. Merlin would be at his new owner's mercy and the one after that, and the one after that, forever without being able to do anything about it. The mere thought made Arthur sick to his stomach.

No, he won't allow that to happen.

Gwen: (with teary eyes) Aren't we happy?

Arthur: Don't say that. You have always made me happy.

Gwen: (laughs weakely) But he made you happier, didn't he?

Arthur: ...

Gwen: You never told me. Which were Merlin's last words.

Arthur: I love you... he said I love you.

Gwen: Oh... (smiles) I get it now. Alright I'll help you. Just promise me something.

Arthur: Anything.

Gwen: Don't feel bad if you can't prevent other people from dying. In fact, you don't have to do it. Just save Merlin.

Arthur: But-

Gwen: No, you have done so much for this kingdom and sacrifice so much. (cradling his face) You owe us nothing and you owe me nothing, alright? Just be happy.

They hugged each other tightly and they share their last kiss and I love you before Arthur finally went to bloodiest battle he'll ever had in his life. And, after killing 100 hundred enemy soldiers with his blade, the king of Camelot died at the early age of forty.

Later Percival and Leon retrieve the king's corpse and bring it before their queen who doesn't share a tear despite being broken inside. She orders for his late husband to be buried next to his tree instead of burned in a pyre, proclaming that's what the king would have wanted. The real reason however is more complex than that.

The night after the funeral, she secretly brings the druids her husband consorted for years to the royal garden for the ritual to be made. Before the tree, as was planned, is the Ancient Round Table of the Ancient Kings.

Druid1: A sword with the blood of 300 hundred man.

Gwen: (gives excalibur to him)

Druid2: Three dragon scales.

Percival: (gives them to her)

Druid3: And the corpse of a king. We have everything.

Leon: Will this really work?

Druid1: This ritual had only worked once in the times of the ancient kings and only because it was done by three of the most powerful sorcerers of that time. We are not that powerful.

Druid2: However, we have a great magic source (she points the tree). So it might work.

It worked! That's Arthur's first thought when he opens his eyes again and finds himself in his room 20 years younger.

....

HIII!! First of all I want to thank you all for giving the first post so much love! I was truly shocked because I didn't think the AU was that good, so I'm really glad you liked it. I hope this kind of sequel/prequel? was of your liking too.

I don't think I'm going to make this a full fic yet, but I can make snippets like this about this AU until then.

What else would like to see happening in this AU? Let me know in the comments or reblogs ;)

[stone-stars]

happy 6 years of naddpod everyone <3 (alt title: the dragon pussy podcast making me cry for 6 minutes straight)

Transcript:

Mee Maw: That's true, but… there's also somethin' else. Murph: And you see she pushes her cloak to the side, and you see she has black scabs-- Caldwell and Jake: Oh, no! No no no! Moonshine: Oh, Melora! Murph: --and deep crick rot all over her chest and neck.

Marabelle, weakly: Jolene? I-- I didn't realize I was gonna get to-- say I was sorry. Moonshine (pretending to be Jolene): Thank you, of-- of course you're forgiven! I love you so much! You're my big sister!

Melora: You're not cursed. You were born like this.

Hardwon: (desperately) Gemma? Gemma? Gemma wake up. Gemma baby. Hey. Murph: You see she's-- she's-- she's cold and dead. Hardwon: Fuck!

Balnor: I couldn't help them. I can barely swing a sword. Alanis: There's a war coming, and everyone needs to fight. Even old men who don't know how.

Beverly, crying: No, he's-- he's my light. He's my Pelor! He always was! I strayed!

Bev Sr: You tell her the truth, Bev. You tell your mom that I died in the Feywild. Beverly: (crying) You know I'm bad at lying. Bev Sr: It's not a lie, Bev.

Deadeye: Yeah, I know I'm down a hand. And an eye. And a life. But I got a soul, and a family. And I finally know which is worth more.

Deadeye: I hate to think about what woulda happened to me, but maybe more I hate to think about who I still would've been if I had never met you.

Rosa: JV, I can't-- I can't find my lantern. JV: Aw, well look at that? There's a lantern right here. Rosa: Are you sure that's mine? JV: Yeah. Yeah, I'll-- I-- I'm gonna go look for mine.

Hardwon: --interpretation. I-- I-- Moonshine: Hardwon, I really don't want you to want to die, because I want you to live so much and I don't want to be alone in that feeling.

Lydia: Elias, is that you? Hardwon: It's uh-- It's still little Elias. You saved the child, ma.

Lydia: I don't know what I've been these past few years, I don't know what I've been these past few decades. But I want you to know that when I was your mother that... you were wanted.

Murph: Somebody who felt they could never have a child… um, is holding their child. Moonshine: I-- I didn't want to need you, dad, but… now that you're here… it-- it's kinda nice.

Murph: Your father has given you... a strategy guide on how to beat him. Caldwell: I have to look away so that the tears don't ruin the pages.

Beverly: (tearful) I don't want to go. I don't want to go. But I have to. It's my duty. I have to do this. Moonshine: Okay, youngin, I want you to know. I will love you whatever you choose to do. But, here's my two cents: A child has a duty to his father, but a hero has a duty to the world. Now, I've got my opinion of which you are. But it's time for you to decide.

Bev Sr: Thanks, Bev. I always-- I knew I could make the deal, because I knew you'd stop me.

Moonshine: (tearful) I-- I've been wanting to tell you about this for so long, and I just didn't get a chance to. And I don't know if I will, so I just wanted to make sure I told you.

Moonshine, crying harder as she goes on: Paw Paw. You are… You are my best friend. And you are the best part of me. (sobs) And I am so grateful. For-- (sobs) the fact that so much of our lives have been braided together. But… where I'm going, next-- after we beat Thiala, which we will-- you can't come, mmkay? So I just need to make sure that you are taken care of, and I need to make sure that you take care of some people, okay?

Pendergreens: This time, you picked me up. And you were nice to me for no reason.

Pendergreens: If when you come back... if I'm different? Moonshine: Mhm? Pendergreens: Just, remember me as I am now. 'Cause I like who I am when I'm around you.

Death: I will take everything from you-- Hardwon: Quit pointing at people! Death: --until you come with me. Hardwon: Ok-- I'll go! I'll go. Beverly: Hardwon, no! Hardwon: Bring her back, and I'll come. Bring her back.

Lydia: All my life, people told me what I had to be. You don't have to be anything other than what you are.

Lydia: I think you should talk to your friends. Not because you owe them an explanation, but because you deserve to be heard.

Melora: Beverly. Beverly: Yes? Melora: I wish you could grow up in a normal world, but the Gods have not blessed you with a normal life. You are… afflicted with duty. Things thrust upon you far beyond your years.

Melora: The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. What an honor, what an injustice.

Moonshine: How long do Half-Elves live? Mee Maw: You talkin' bout Hardwon? Moonshine: I mean-- It's on my mind.

Moonshine: I guess, if I'm being honest, I don't know what it's gonna be like to know Bahumia without Hardwon Surefoot. (tearful) And there's a part of me that doesn't want to find out what that feels like.

Moonshine: There is something sour I probably need to swallow, though. It is-- There's people you meet that are once in a timeless body lifetime kinda people, right? Mee Maw: Oh, yeah. Moonshine: Okay. Mee Maw: And you keep 'em with ya. Moonshine: Okay.

Moonshine: (crying) It's okay, Balnor. Like all the most powerful things in this world, I knew I was only borrowing you.

Hardwon: Moonshine, when-- When I left Irondeep, I-- I didn't know where I fit in. And then I met you, and you didn't just let me in. You brought me in, and you thought I was good.

Balnor: I hope that you all get to leave this world with the same comfort that I had: knowing that it's in good hands. I love you. Murph: "Your knight, Balnor."

[jellyfishbeansontoast]

Oh shit, there's only one bed.

really couldn't think of a title but this made me giggle and it's basically the plot summary so enjoy lol. kind of enemies to lovers yay!!

pairing: Sirius x reader I don't believe I made any character descriptions so should be gn

word count: 937

It was almost the beginning of term and the group had decided to make a weekend out of purchasing new school supplies in Diagon Alley, minus Peter who’s parents had already bought his school supplies and disapproved of the immaturity of his friends. Which is ultimately how you've ended up wishing you'd never came, standing in a cramped room in the Leaky Cauldron with the one boy who seems to know just how to get on your nerves. Sirius Black.

It wasn't that you hated Sirius, but the boy knew every way to get under your skin and even after pleas from James and Remus to stop he wouldn't give it up. You'd only tagged along as Remus had begged you to come relentlessly, guilt tripping you shamelessly with how much he'd have to hear about quidditch otherwise.

“There's only one bed.” Sirius gawks after settling down his case.

“Astute observation, Black” you snap, to which he holds his hands up in mock surrender. You bury your head in your hands groaning.

“There is no way I'm getting in a bed with you.”

A momentary look of hurt flashes across your face, did he really find you that repulsive, before you manage to compose yourself “you're welcome to the floor.”

He looks disgustedly at the dirty floor, kicking up a cloud of dust like a petulant child “there is no way I'm sleeping on that.”

“Fine.” you cross your arms in a huff.

“Fine.” he says mirroring you.

You turn on your heel and march towards the bathroom, grabbing your pyjamas on the way. By the time you've brushed your teeth and changed Sirius is already in bed. You resign yourself to your fate and climb into your side of the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You aren't aware of how cold the room is until you can practically feel Sirius’ heat radiating off of him. You shrink further into the covers, defending your ears from the cold. Behind you Sirius makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. You roll around instantly to face him, eyebrows raised.

“What.” you demand.

“It's just-” he sighs “Fuck it, come here.”

“What!” you repeat, questioning if you heard him correctly.

“You're cold, I'm not.” he shrugs like he's just told you a simple fact. He grips your arms and slides you towards him, wrapping his arms around you. Your face is nestled in his chest and despite the situation you can't help but feel relieved at the warmth that envelopes your body. “See?” 

His curls tickle your forehead and you're thankful that he can't see your face for the smile you're trying to contain. You can't help the laugh that escapes as you think about how funny it is that thirty minutes ago you were arguing about sharing a bed and now you're pressed flush against his chest. It's his turn to be confused now, “What are you laughing at?”

“This just isn't the behaviour of someone who hates me.” you retort.

“I don't hate you” 

“You literally asked Remus why he was friends with me” he's looking sheepish now, pulling away from you slightly so he can see you.

“I didn't mean it like that”

“How can you possibly have meant it Sirius?” the bite is back in your voice, guarding your feelings from what he has to say.

His fingers are on your chin, tilting your head up to look at him “making sure he didn't have any ulterior motives”

“Be serious-”

“I am Sirius” there's a cheeky grin on his face at the old age joke. You glare at him and he continues “I had to make sure Moony didn't have feelings for you, because I do.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Come on don't make me say it again”

“What if I want you to say it again”

Instead he leans down and presses his lips to yours, his hands moving to hold the back of your head. “Did that say it enough?”

“Maybe if you tried one more time it might” you tease. Sirius is quick to appease you, this time you're more prepared and able to reciprocate the kiss properly, your hands curling into the front of his t-shirt.

“Understand now?” he asks.

“I think so” you respond, nestling your head under his chin, eyes fluttering shut.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You only hum in response, Sirius only choosing not to be offended when he hears your breathing slow. He smiles at your sleeping form before wrapping his arms supportively around your back and letting himself also give in to sleep. 

-

“Do you think they've killed each other?” a low murmur voices from the other side of the door. 

“I hope not I wanted to borrow that quidditch magazine Sirius was reading yesterday” 

“I can't believe you're thinking about quidditch this early”

Despite Remus’ best efforts to keep James quiet the conversation is still enough to wake Sirius. He opens his eyes groggily and mentally curses the boys for being so loud. Flinging an arm out behind him he scrambles for his wand, which is somewhere on the nightstand, before unlocking the door. “I haven't been murdered.” he calls, voice still thick with sleep. 

James and Remus enter the room, mouths hanging open at the sight. “Is that-?” they both ask unison.

Their shock is enough to rouse you but you only bury yourself further into Sirius, groaning when the sunlight hits your eyes.

“If we knew this would happen we would've done it sooner.” James mutters before being elbowed in the ribs by Remus.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Remember me, please (don't let me die a second time)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: hurt/comfort, angsty fluff

warnings: turns out your bf being dead for three years leaves some lasting scars on both of you, lots of talk of grieving and recovering

a/n: three posts in one night ok gnight I die now until next weekend

Your legs swing back and forth where you're sitting perched on the counter of your kitchen, scrolling idly through take-out options on your phone while you wait for Jason. You'd sent him into the living room to put music on, admittedly, long enough ago to get suspicious, having told him that your record collection is expansive enough that he should be able to find something he likes.

Hopping off the counter, you make your way after him, turning the corner to see him standing in front of the bookcase next to your TV stand, staring at the records piled onto the shelves.

"Jay?" You ask gently, moving next to him to put a hand on his arm, smoothing over his skin under his t-shirt. He doesn't look at you yet, his eyes staying forward with his fists balled at his sides. You bring your hand up to brush through his hair gently and sigh.

"You'd talked about it so many times, you know," you explain. "The kind of turntable you'd get, the records you'd collect. When I started buying them for myself, I just thought… I don't know, it just felt right." Jason, as you speak, reaches forward to brush his fingers along the spines, tracing titles of all his favourites. He knows what you're talking about, of course - remembers the days of the two of you, young and broke and wandering the streets of Gotham, dreaming about all the things you knew you'd never really become. He just didn't think…

"I didn't," he clears his throat. "I didn't think you'd remember all this." You don't quite have it in you to hide your hurt at that.

"Of course… I remember everything about you, Jay. It's all - it was all I had left of you. Of course, I held onto it." There's an honesty in your words and Jason thinks he should be grateful for it, should thank you for cutting open your chest for him and letting him see inside. 

"You shouldn't have," is what he says instead, and you pull your hand away from where it had been resting on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around your waist, instead.

"I'm going to go order dinner," you say gently, and Jason squeezes his eyes shut. "Take your time." When you leave, going back to the kitchen to find your phone, he stays standing in front of the records, letting his fingers brush over all the edges of them. There's something real about seeing them, about seeing the ways in which your grief manifested, real and tangible and taking up all this space in your life.

He picks up one of them, eventually, the sound of you chatting on the phone with whatever restaurant you've decided on snapping him back into the present movement and leading him to grab it. When he gets it set up on the turntable, letting the music fill your apartment, your home, the life you built while you were waiting for someone you thought would never come back, Jason finds himself wishing, just for a moment, that you had just moved on.

The guilt, of course, immediately follows this as he digs the heels of his hands into his closed eyes before following you into the kitchen just in time to see you hang up and drop your phone back onto the counter. You smile when you see him, patient and understanding in a way that makes his stomach roll.

"Do you want a drink?" You ask him.

"I'll get it," is all he responds with, putting his hands on your waist to quickly move you back up to the counter, sitting you there before making his way to the fridge. You let him - you always let him, seemingly knowing when he needs to be kind, to do something good with this body of his. You let him pull a beer out of the fridge, popping the cap off and catching it. You let him wipe the condensation off of it before he hands it to you so that your palm doesn't get wet. You let him do whatever it is that he needs to do while he thinks whatever it is that he needs to think, sipping slowly while he stands between your parted legs.

"You shouldn't have waited for me," he says quietly, and you pause with the bottle half to your lips. 

"I wasn't waiting. I was remembering." You put the bottle down next to you on the counter, placing a cold hand onto Jason's cheek.

"You should've forgotten," he pushes.

"I chose not to," you retort, voice still gentle, hands still kind. "I didn't want to forget about you, baby. I couldn't let myself." Jason sighs, letting his head hang as his hands tighten their grip on the edge of the counter on either side of your hips.

"You deserve better than that, baby," he says sullenly, and you cup his cheek in your hand as you coax him to look at you.

"There is nothing better than the ways that you've loved me, Jason. I couldn't possibly deserve more," you say, blinking as your eyes mist over. Jason notices it, naturally, making a wounded sort of noise and cupping your face in his hands, his palms solid and warm and grounding as he leans his forehead against yours. 

"You wasted three years on me and I… I can't forgive myself for that. I can't forgive myself for doing that to you, for leaving you the way I did," Jason says, his voice choked. You pull back to look at him firmly.

"You didn't leave me, Jay - you were taken from me. I mourned you because I lost you. None of that is your fault… and it never will be." Your voice is clear when you say it and Jason almost, almost smiles at the stubbornness that you wear so well. But he can't help but see those records every time he closes his eyes and he can't help but imagine you buying them, putting them on your shelf one by one as you let the grief consume you.

"Did you ever date? While I was dead?" He says it easily - or, in a way that's supposed to seem easy, pulling away from you to get his own beer from the fridge and leaning against the opposite counter while he pops it open.

"Excuse me?" Is your only response. He doesn't say anything more. "No, Jason, I… No. No, there was never anyone other than you. You know that - I've told you that. If you don't believe me, I -" "I believe you, baby," he says, and the relieved slump of your shoulders only lasts until he speaks again. "I just think you were wrong for that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You should've moved on with your life," he says, and there's a hard edge to his voice that you're sure you don't appreciate being pointed in your direction. "You should've moved on from me."

"Well…" you say carefully. "That's not a decision you get to make for me. And it's not a decision that holds a lot of weight now, seeing as you're, well, alive and standing in my kitchen wearing my sweater."

"You wasted three years on me," he presses on. You stiffen.

"I grieved for three years," you retort. "I sent flowers to your grave every week for three years. I - I built a home and a life for myself and I had to do it without you and, yes, I tried to fill that life with whatever pieces of you I could hold onto because I loved you and I missed you. And you're telling me now, what? I should have just gotten over it?" Jason stares at you through your outburst, at your trembling lip and watery eyes and your hands, fists clenched so tight he's sure your nails are digging into your skin. He stares, eyes wide and mouth open as he searches for words, until you burst into tears.

That, of course, is enough to have him lurching forward, slamming his beer bottle onto the counter as he gravitates towards you, slotting himself between your parted legs again to shush you and hold you and wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispers, over and over. "I'm so sorry, please don't cry for me." Your palm connects with his chest as you slap him weakly, your other hand scrubbing at your eyes.

"You still don't get it, Jay," you lament. "You're the only person worth crying for." He laughs a bit at that, finally, and pulls you impossibly closer.

"I'm sorry, pretty," he says again, his lips pressed to your forehead. "I just…" 

"I know, baby," you sigh, letting yourself relax against him, your tears slowing as you sniffle. "I know."

"I love you so much," he says earnestly. "And I - I'm grateful that you waited. That you remembered. I…" he sighs then, his grip tightening on you as he blinks back his own tears. "Thank you for remembering me," is all he says, and he hopes so desperately that the way he clutches onto you will help you realize how much it all means to him.

"Of course, Jay," you soothe, running a hand through his tousled hair. "That's what being loved is, I think. It's remembering. And I… I love you always, you know? I'm happy to remember you, always - even when that's all I have left of you." Jason sighs at your words, his eyes squeezing shut. He knows what you mean - knows his mask will claim his life once again, that you'll be left alone once more. You never talk about it, too scared to bring it up, but you both know the truth. The possibility is just too high that one day, Jason won't come home for the second time. 

He isn't sure who takes more comfort in knowing that he's solidified in your life enough that he'll never really be gone. He isn't sure it's so good - that he wouldn't still prefer you move on to something with hope and safety and happy endings.

But he knows that he's loved and that he's remembered, and that's enough for him to settle for tonight.

[lil-tachyon]

What all roleplaying games have you worked on?

I'll try to name them all here but there are a lot and some of them are pretty small so I may miss a few by accident.

Epochrypha (2018) by Skerples was both the first piece of paid work I did and also the first game supplement I worked on. This is so old I was still inking digitally.

I also provided illustrations for Magical Industrial Revolution and The Monster Overhaul by the same author.

Monster Overhaul was neat because I did interior illustrations in early 2020 but didn't do the cover until 2022 so you can see quite a stylistic evolution.

From 2018 to 2020 things were pretty quiet for me until I worked on The Shifting City by Dank Dungeons. People really liked the cover for some reason and that basically created a career for me. I still get people asking me to basically recreate this cover a few times a year:

I did a handful of illustrations from 2020 to 2022ish for Ukuwa Station that ended up in The Field Guide to Mfecane, a third party afrofuturist Lancer expansion.

Our Vale of Discontent was a small game I worked on in 2020:

Mycosis is a Mork Borg dungeon I worked on around this time, which notably marked my first attempt at doing some goofy black metal title font.

I did most of my illustration work for Desert Moon of Karth by Joel Hines in late 2020 and early 2021:

The sequel, Tide World of Mani is still being worked on. I just finished my last interior illustrations for it a month or two ago.

AZAG by Dank Dungeons was a game I worked on throughout 2021 that was a blast and I think more people should know about.

At some point in 2021 I did a bunch of pieces for Lore & Legacy although I don't remember exactly when. These never got posted but the book's been out for a while now so maybe I'll show them off later.

Late in 2021 was when I started doing illustrations for The Electrum Archive by Emiel Boven (I think issue 2 is out soon).

Early 2022 I did a bunch of character illustrations for some Victorian horror fantasy game that I don't think ever actually came out (commissioner never responded to me when I asked about it at least) which is a shame because I'm proud of these. At least I got paid!

This was another one for a game that I don't think ever came out:

I did character designs for Nebula Chaos by Polyhedra Games in 2022:

Then Neon Saber by Olivia Miller

Then some pieces for If Worlds Collide:

Then Critters & Companions by Pearse Anderson:

Ran out of space for images, I'll finish this in part 2...

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Hearts [S. R.]

Young!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

and by public demand, part 2

summary: an intern pesters Spencer to get his attention and you help him get rid of it a bit, benefiting in the process.

A/N: here we go! started watching criminal minds last week and i'm halfway through the first season so expect a lot of content as I progress with the series. Spencer Reid from season one is the cutest thing I ever looked at

If you want to be added to the taglist just tell me, and if you have ideas, send them!

You'd think FBI offices would be quiet at night, but the truth is, with so many agents and interns reporting to do, the night seemed to be the busiest time.

After spending three months there you had almost obtained your own desk and knew most of the people, especially the BAU team whom you had been assigned to support for your internship. Since you began your university studies, you had wanted to work in that FBI unit and when the opportunity presented itself you were extremely excited, but now that it was a reality, you could realize that the workload was unimaginable and heavier than you expected. Still, with any luck, proper schooling, and practice you could be aiming for a permanent position in maybe two or three years. For now, being there as an intern was more than enough.

You were so engrossed in reading your computer screen that you didn't hear when the office door opened and it wasn't until a figure sat down next to you that you realized who it was.

You and Spencer Reid met many years ago, when you were both in middle school, in Las Vegas, and from that moment on you could appreciate what a prodigy he was. He was a very serious, quiet, and shy boy, but for some reason you always enjoyed his company and, judging by the fact that he never left you, you thought he did too. On some occasions you exchanged books that he returned to you in two days and you kept for a few weeks, you talked during some school breaks, you asked him for help with homework, and on more than one occasion you went so far as to defend him verbally from those silly children who bothered him; in general, you had something close to a friendship. You never thought that after so long, and so far from Las Vegas, you would see him again, much less in the condition you were in right now.

"Hey," you greeted him kindly, showing him a tired smile "What are you doing here?"

"I was finishing an analysis of yesterday's case," he replied. The team had had to profile another pyromaniac and for just a bit they had managed to catch him, which had left them somewhat tense "And you?"

"A report" you answered simply. You had the hypothesis that those kinds of activities ended up in the hands of the interns because they were extremely tedious and they wanted to get rid of it.

Reid wasn't much of a talker if the occasion didn't call for it and you knew it, so it wasn't too strange that he would only sit near you to watch you work, although there was something different about him tonight that alarmed you.

"You think I'm dumb?" he asked suddenly, forcing you to look up at him.

"You? Are you asking me if I think Doctor Reid is dumb? you asked, emphasizing his title, but he gently shook his head.

"Not in that sense, but like... weird or something."

“We all are a little bit. And that's not so bad” you said sincerely. You knew that on some occasions Spencer would ask questions and all you had to do was wait a bit for him to tell you what the doubt was about.

“And do you think…?” he started to say, a little unsure "Do you think I don't have a girlfriend because I'm that weird?"

"Who told you that?" you exclaimed more directly. You imagined that this concern could only arise from someone having suggested it, as had already happened on other occasions, and it still touched you a little that he had the confidence to assist you for that kind of thing.

"No, no one in particular"

"You know, I think you don't care about having or not having a girlfriend" you ventured to say "Was it Morgan?"

“No, not him,” he hastened to say, thinking a little about his next words, “Uhm, that girl from the department next door…”

"Victoria," you cut him off, rolling your eyes in anticipation and feeling the heat already rising up your cheeks. She was a typical mean girl; long black hair, tall, always wearing expensive dresses, high heels, and fake smiles. You'd met this girl during internships and it took you a couple of weeks to make you feel uncomfortable around her, but you finished hating her when you realized how intent she seemed to be on embarrassing Spencer every chance she got. The fact that her father was a department head made it a bit difficult to deal with any situation. "Why do you care what she says?"

“She is… persistent”

"You know she only does it because she wants to get your attention, right?" you explained, a little fed up with the situation and how he was always affected by what others said about him.

It was clear that from the beginning she had her eye on the young man, and on those days, she would walk around the office and try to start a conversation with Spencer, which he never carried out. When she noticed that her attempts were useless, she began to make hurtful comments that became recurring as the months went by, since it was the only time when she could receive any kind of attention from the brown-haired man. Spencer frowned, quite confused by the situation when you told him that, since apparently he hadn't made the same account of the facts as you.

"What are you talking about?"

"She likes you" you insisted, as if it were something obvious, although it didn't seem so to him. You could almost see how the gears in his brain were struggling to find a degree of coherence between the events that he had been ignoring for a long time.

"Then why does she say such horrible things to me?"

“It's because…” you mumbled, closing the lid of your computer and looking for a way to explain to the boy. It was amazing how he was the most intelligent person you knew and at the same time he would come to you to ask such banal things like that "she is a stupid girl who has had everything in life and since she isn't capable of having an intelligent conversation with you, she thinks that being mean is going to get your attention. It's like those kids who pulled your hair in elementary school," you muttered, trying to present an analogy, but he didn't react in any way “She probably only told you that because she wanted to know if you have a girlfriend, not because she really believed it.”

Spencer took a moment to absorb that, wondering how that made sense, since for him the fact that you liked a person implied being kind and attentive, not behaving as Victoria did with him. But you had read the signs from the beginning and that was probably another reason for your dislike for your internship partner, who you thought was unworthy of being attracted to someone as cute as him. Although during high school he hadn't been the most sought after by girls, now he was quite handsome and that shy and polite attitude made him even more attractive, at least for you. Besides the fact that, of course, it was a genius who you were talking to.

"And why didn't she just ask?" he genuinely murmured and you couldn't help but giggle.

"I don't know, when we like a person, we do stupid things"

"Do you really think she likes me?"

"Of course, what reason would there be for her not to?" you mumbled and he just looked away, as he did most of the time, while he shrugged, which made you think that maybe this conversation was more serious than you imagined "Do you like her?"

"No! Definitely not” he said right away, as if he was offended “It just seems strange to me that you say that”

"Say what?"

"That someone likes me"

"Oh, please," you breathed, completely incredulous. "You're charming, Reid, I don't think she’s the only one who likes you”

"Do you think I'm charming?" he said, slightly skeptical. You loved his reaction to any compliment he received. 

"Sometimes" you lied. Actually, you thought he was charming all the time "Besides you're an FBI profiler, don't you detect that kind of thing in girls?"

"It's harder to analyze women than criminals," he argued, making you chuckle slightly.

Suddenly the report you had to make was forgotten and you wished you wanted to spend more time with him, although you didn't know if he would be willing to do the same. It was one thing to be together at work and another very different thing was that he wanted to be with you personally.

"Do you have anything in particular to do today?" you exclaimed cautiously, so the question allowed him to politely get rid of the invitation if he wanted to. You held back your urge to smile when he said no, attentive to what you had to say “Do you want to go to my apartment? If I'm still here I'm going to have a migraine and I think you should relax for a while too”

“Go to your apartment?” he asked, just to be sure, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, like… order some pizza, and… do you like wine? I have wine at home. And we can put on thrillers and see who can figure out who the killer is first”

"I would beat you"

"You think so, Reid?" you said, challenging his strange burst of confidence, and Spencer nodded playfully, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. "I'll buy you your week's coffee if you beat me" saying this, you knew full well you didn't stand a chance, but if a couple of dollars spent on coffee would get you a few extra hours with him, you were willing to accept that.

"It's a deal" he smiled and in less than ten minutes you were out of the offices.

As expected, you lost the game, but you couldn't say you ended the night disappointed. At first you didn't even know why you invited him, because outside of that neighborhood park in Las Vegas, you'd never spent any time alone. Spencer was all shy at first, always sitting up straight and hugging his briefcase, but when you broke the tension he relaxed considerably. The wine helped a bit because, although he confessed to you that he didn't drink often, you two ended up with a bottle of red that you had in the cupboard; not too much to lose consciousness, but enough to get gigglier. Even Spencer's ever-dapper outfit was thrown into disarray, as he'd loosened his tie and removed his vest to deal with the rise in body temperature the alcohol brought on. As promised you had pizza for dinner, which he refused to let you pay for, and in the process you put on some of the classic movies you found, according to google, making sure neither of you had seen them before. That night you were tempted to tell your partner that he could sleep over there if he wanted, but you had to say that a hint like that might make him uncomfortable. You didn't want to break the magic of the moment.

So the next morning you walked into the Quantico offices more energetic than usual, holding a couple of glasses of coffee on a tray.

"Good morning, Y/L/N" Morgan greeted you, as you approached the BAU work area, where Hotch and Elle were also present.

"Good morning, have you seen Spencer today?"

"I suppose he arrived, but I haven't seen him"

"I think he hid in the kitchen"

"Why do you ask?" muttered Morgan, who was probably the gossipiest of the three and also the most teasing. You knew, unfortunately, that if you didn't tell him, he would question Spencer, and you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

“I bought him a coffee. We made a bet last night and I'll be buying it all week"

"So you're trying to make him fall for you, huh" he exclaimed, completely ignoring your explanation, so you decided to play along.

"I think I'll need a few more months for that" judging by the man's laugh, you knew that the answer had satisfied him. You wondered if it bothered you that Spencer might misinterpret that joke as fact, but at the same time you wondered if it really was something that bothered you enough to deny it.

You walked down the aisle looking for the brown-haired boy and greeted a few people along the way, until, as if by divine grace, you looked at the man’s back and at the same time heard the click of heels, which you already knew quite well, going in the same direction.

"Spencer!" you called him before Victoria could tell him anything, and he turned with that awkwardness that characterized him showing a small smile when he noticed that it was you.

"Hello"

“You better not be making your coffee,” you murmured, getting close enough to hand her the cup you brought on the tray and making sure Victoria, who was making her own drink, would overhear the conversation. “I hope you like it. Sweet as you"

"Thank you," he replied, slightly embarrassed by the compliment you'd just paid him. He peered into the cup and frowned “Why did the barista write a heart next to my name?”

“It wasn't the barista, it was me”

It took Spencer a moment to sink the words in, and then he looked back at you with a confused expression.

"And why did you write a heart next to my name?"

You couldn't help but contain a laugh and Victoria, who had been attentive to the entire conversation, contained an angry sigh when she saw you extend your hand to the boy's bicep to give it a squeeze, taking the opportunity to get a little closer to him.

"I hope to repeat last night sometime" you muttered ignoring his question "I really had fun"

"Me too," he said, faster than you'd expect, and you smirked to notice that she was right next to him, her jaw clenching angrily. Without Reid realizing it, that talk could be completely interpreted as you've had a sexual affair, and not only that, but you were looking forward to it again.

"I'll see you around, right?"

"I think so" he replied. Spencer took a sip of the coffee you bought him, as if he'd just remembered it, and took a moment to savor it, closing his eyes in the process. You tried not to be distracted by the afterimage of him licking his lips. "I love it, what's with it?"

“Huh-uh, I won't tell you. If you want to drink it, you will have to ask me” you replied playfully. You thought that perhaps, at some point, he would become uncomfortable with your indiscreet flirtations, but when he smiled at you and looked away, you knew he was actually liking it. And if Spencer liked being fawned over, you weren't going to put up a fight.

"Thank you"

"It's nothing, doctor. Good luck on your day" you said goodbye, showing him the most beautiful smile you were capable of manifesting.

After that you made sure to look Victoria square in the eye as you left, confident that if she tried to say something rude to the profiler again you would confront her yourself and finally got lost. She looked at him, utterly offended, and then did the same, leaving behind the cup of coffee she was preparing to lock herself in the office and be grumpy all day. But Spencer didn't even notice any of it, as he was too busy looking closely at his heart in his cup to get any idea of what it might mean.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Look, This is gonna be one of those things that sounds bad until you read the whole story. Please don't read the title and go to 'yta' without reading.

AITA for yelling at our friend that my brother isn't trans?

Look, My brother ISNT trans. He likes to wear kilts and sew, Which is what kind of started all of this. My brother is NOT trans, He loves being a boy (trust me, I can hear him enjoying being a boy in his room all the time. Theres no way he'd wanna chop it off(I mean this as a joke I don't actually know how the surgery works), He's told me multiple times that being told by others what he likes is 'feminine' and 'girly' upsets him because he's proud of being a boy and doesn't like being called a girl. Its not because he hates girls or thinks less of them, He just does not like being called the wrong gender which I'm sure you want to be called the correct gender too.)

Anyways lets begin. I (16F) am my little brothers (15M) best friend, Basically. We grew up together and do everything together, Including sewing. I liked it when I was younger, And eventually convinced him to try it as well. He loved it, And we love just sitting together and making random crap we usually end up selling at our yearly garage sale. (Our mom makes us sell all our unneeded crap every year, But we aren't complaining when we make like $100 for it, Mom and dad even help us figure out what we actually wanna keep (we sometimes see old things and go 'Oh I could never get rid of this' and then throw it away))

Sorry for the rambling, But you'll see why some of this is important to know.

Basically, We were getting our shit together for the garage sale, And invited over a mutual friend of ours, Who I'll call uhhh Ley (16F). Shes kind of obsessed with the LGBTQ and loves to help people 'realize' they're gay or trans or non-binary. By this I mean she'll literally bully people she 'knows' is gay or trans by always telling them they are and spreading rumors about them saying they are. The way she 'knows' these things are from gut feelings. I thought maybe she needed friends who would be honest with her and tell her gently that it needed to stop. She stopped being so bad with it and we even convinced her to admit to the rumors she started being fake. We've known her for around 3 years now, And she's stopped doing it as aggressively for 2 of those years. She still makes jabs and 'jokes' saying things like "Oh thats so girly, Are you sure you're not trans?" and "Oh thats such a boy thing to do, Are you a lesbian?", Both quotes she's said to me and my brother less than a week ago. I am straight and cis, So is my brother. We have nothing against the lgbt, We just aren't apart of it. We support the lgbtq as much as possible (with my part time job I like to donate some of my paycheck towards point of pride so people who need the surgeries or binders can get them), And are very open about supporting them.

While we were cleaning out my brothers room and finding stuff to throw into the 'sell' box (we like to do precleaning before our parents help us, It makes everything faster and less work on the people trying to help), And Ley found my brothers kilt. She did a long exaggerated gasp, Looking at my brother.

"So, How long have you been trans? Why didn't you tell me?? I knew it the whole time!"

My brother tried to explain that it was a kilt for men, And he wasn't trans, But she kept interrupting him saying crap like 'you don't have to lie I know now' and 'Its nothing to be embarrassed about, I knew ever since you started to sew'. The last straw for me was when she continued not listening to him and started to ask about how he was gonna come out as school. I yelled at her to get out, That neither of us were gay, Neither of us are trans, And neither of us are apart of any of the lgbtq. We are allies and nothing more. She tried to argue that he had a 'skirt' which OBVIOUSLY meant he was trans, I basically screamed at her that she was a stupid know it all who made everyone who wasn't apart of the lgbtq's life hell because she made sure everyone knew them as someone they arent (I know, I shouldn't of brought up 2 years in the past) and that I was tired of her trying to force everyone to be in the LGBTQ when its just not realistic. Not everyone is gay or trans, Some people are cis and straight. She started crying and left, We haven't spoken in a few days but I think I'm justified. I'm tired of living my life being told I'm something I'm not, I'm tired of seeing it happen to my brother too.

My brother later thanked me for standing up for him, Telling me it made him really upset when she said those things. To cheer him up we watched his favorite movies and I made him his favorite dinner (mom and dad both work day jobs so we both make lunch and dinner)

And for those who are gonna say that allies are apart of the LGBTQ I strongly believe the A is for aro/ace. Being an ally isn't a gender or sexuality

(unless people identify using ally/allyself of course or whatever it is, I'm not quite sure how neos work or whatever but I love to see how creative people get with it and am happy it gives people who don't identify with any of the normalized(? Idk the correct term but yknow the man woman and nb) genders a chance to be who they actually are)

Extra info on why I think I could be the asshole: I feel like we might've been able to explain it if we got her to shut up for a minute, But she kept talking over us. I feel like I went too far by insulting her, And I feel like I might be TA because she's also autistic (so is my brother though, And I have ADHD).

Why I think I'm NTA: My brother is really quiet and doesn't really defend himself often. He doesn't really know how to stand up for himself and is 'easy' to talk over (soft spoken, Quiet talking voice and nonconfrontational) which is why I believe I had to step in in his place, And I don't believe I did anything wrong defending my brother and making her stop calling him what hes not.

Anyways. AITA for yelling at our friend that my brother isn't trans?

To see later: PINK PANTHER

What are these acronyms?

[omegalomania]

ok listen obviously like everyone else i am Fucking Devastated but the fucking sHRIMPLICATIONS here are KILLING me.

the two last "new" songs we got before the hiatus were alpha dog and from now on we are enemies (equally fucked up song btw) and pete namedrops alpha dog as the last song they wrote before the hiatus and it's such a. it's SUCH a fucking. augh.

like it's so painfully and clearly a farewell. the lyrics all telegraph it. your time has passed. never means forever. walk off into the sunset. the discussion of how much effort is required to maintain this life and how they already feel burned out, past their prime when they were all in their mid-twenties and early thirties. and the sheer fucking POETRY of the way it was the last song they recorded - tell rock and roll i'm alone again - until they announced their triumphant return with save rock and roll in 2013. welcome to the new déjà vu.

and oh yeah the last word issued in the song's studio version is the word "abracadabra," which pete cites as the word that christian bales character in the film “the prestige” says he will utter before he disappears from prison. "abracadabra" was a key word in the viral ARG-esque marketing campaign leading up to the release of believers never die...right before fall out boy seemingly vanished off the very face of the earth.

and, OH YEAH, the first shows they played after reuniting involved a multi-song medley spanning all the stages of their career, with one of those songs being the first time they ever played alpha dog, albeit partially.

the notion of the wizard through the curtain speaking to a sense of bitterness (at least if pete's ten year old genius annotation is anything to go by) which is the exact same phrasing to the way joe would later talk about the band's fraught, strained feelings leading up to the hiatus in a podcast with kerrang while promoting his book.

many people have pointed out the parallels between flu game and alpha dog - the way they both discuss the exhaustion of being so visible and constantly putting yourself out there and how taxing that is, especially when you're simultaneously trying to cover up how hard it is. how isolating it is, when the whole world is squinting against the starlight feathering off you. it's worth noting that these parallels are not merely implicit, either. "flu game" is in and of itself an explicit reference to a famous game michael jordan played while sick in which he claimed that he didn't want to give up, no matter how sick and tired he was. and how did pete annotate a specific couplet, ten years ago?

we must make it hard to look so easy doing something so hard

another explicit reference to michael jordan, years and years prior.

and this is the first time they've ever played alpha dog in full. nearly 15 full years after the hiatus started. by now, fall out boy have been together for far longer than they've ever been apart. by now, fall out boy has been in their "posthiatus" era for longer than they have their "prehiatus" one.

i dont really have a conclusion to this. just, i dunno man. something about the repeated lyric "never means forever" on a greatest hits compilation titled "believers never die." something about i'm a star vs. so much for stardust vs. no more stardust. something about motifs that span decades, that span years of hurt and cracked-open wounds that have now been poured over with liquid gold, mending them anew. something about reclaiming old scars and ugly histories and reforging them into something filled with streaming starlight and sun-drenched smiles.

abracadabra.

[minispidey]

04: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. previous part. series masterlist.

04. Breaking into a museum with Barbie!

warnings: breaking and entering??? none really.

note: italics are the boys in headspace talking ❤️

As usual, it was as if you and Steven were in sync: showering, preparing, and dressing up at the same time before walking towards your doors and opening them in unison.

"Steven!" you smiled brightly at him as you stepped out of your flat and locked it "Okay! I got our whole afternoon to dinner planned out. I made a list~"

"Alright." he laughs "What's first?"

You crumpled the paper and threw it behind you "Shopping." you grabbed his arm and pulled him into the elevator fast.

You drove to the nearest furniture shop and practically dragged Steven inside "Come on! You need a proper table. Just because it's doe-able doesn't mean it's good enough."

"I don't got the money, love."

"Who said you're paying?"

Steven was a moth to a flame. He loved the clear difference between you and him. You were this big ball of energy, a magnet pulling him in. You were a bit of a ditz, but you had an incredible job and lifestyle, and he was just a giftshopist.

Maybe he doesn't deserve you.

"Alright. No more self-sabotaging. Just enjoy your date." Marc said from the headspace, groaning.

"I'm trying." he mumbled. Steven watches you look at different dining tables, knocking and asking for other colors and types of wood.

"Gosh… I've always wanted one like that," he whispered to himself "A little too expensive, though. I could never ask you to–"

"Stevie, come on!" you giggled.

You went further into the back where there wasn't any staff and settled on an oak table "I think this is it!" you lifted yourself and sat on it, letting your slip-on heels fall with two clicks.

"Alright. It's-" Steven's eyes widened at the price "...pricey."

"It's my treat, Stevie. Consider it uh... a gift! To commemorate our date and many more to come, I hope?"

He blushes, nodding "Yeah! Of course." he sets his hand on the table, beside your thigh "Maybe, you know... dinner one of these nights? I'll cook you something."

"Smooth. Don't forget to breathe." Jake chuckled.

You started giggling "I can't say no to that. Totally! I didn't know you can cook."

"You can't." Marc sighs.

"Yeah, I can." Steven took his hand off the table and knelt in front of you taking your heels "What else do you have planned in that list of yours? Anything you wanna do's fine with me."

"Well, Vogue released an article for the top most romantic dates and one of them is at a museum! Which I would personally enjoy, but you already work there." you shrugged "How about we shop until my ankles bruise and top it off with dinner?"

"Woah there, love. Wouldn't want to ruin your shoes now, would you?" he joked as he slipped your heels on your feet.

"Gosh, you're so right! I should buy a new pair to replace these ones!"

It looked brand new to Steven which puzzled him for a second.

"Let's go pay— well, I'll pay— and I'll have it delivered tomorrow." you grab his hand and hop off the table, walking back to the front of the store and placing your credit card down "Put it in my card. We'll take the one in the back."

He watched you with a faint, incredulous smile as the cashier took the card and rang it up. You were a madwoman, a sweet, generous madwoman, and he was in love.

It wasn’t even that the table was expensive, though it was— it was that you’d do this for him that meant so much.

In fact… this wasn’t just his favorite date. It was one of his favorite moments he could remember.

What an enchanting woman you were.

The two of you stopped by a bookstore, dragging him inside. The comforting smell of the books relaxed you and you began to read the titles of the ones lined up on the shelves. One looked old and intrigued you. You took it out and smelled the pages, making Steven smile.

He wandered off on his own, spotting a couple of classic novels before stopping in front of the Egyptology area. Steven checks out a few books, skimming through the pages before the old shopkeep coughs and points at a no reading sign.

"Sorry." Steven closes the book before setting it down. You found him and took his hand, heading deeper into the shop "I wanna look for something."

"Something?"

"Classic. Also one of the reasons why I love romance."

"What's this mysterious book?" he chuckled.

"Pride and Prejudice." you smiled "A prideful shy arrogant man with bad social skills and a prejudiced independent young woman fall in love. The best enemies to lovers book to exist. But then again I didn't read it yet, I watched the movie and the series..."

"Really? Maybe I'll watch it some other day."

"Totally! So, Egyptian history books again?"

"Research. I donated off some of my books from the pile we made last week so I can get new ones. I promise I won't get more than five." he laughs, holding up three books he picked.

"Aw, good for you!"

You placed his purchased books into the back of your car and drove off with him "There were a couple'a Pride and Prejudice books back there. Why'd you didn't get one?"

"Well," you let out a sigh "I wanted to get like, the original one. As in, original release."

"Original release? When was it released?"

"Eighteen–thirteen I think."

Steven stops to think "Love, that book was published over two–hundred years ago."

"And?"

"I don't think you'd be-" he stops himself "Maybe you'll get lucky next time."

"I hope so!" you turn your head towards him "I've been wanting it for so long! Ever since I watched Kiera Knightley, I was never the same! That was love and I refuse to read Pride and Prejudice unless it's the original one."

Steven was worried when you took your eyes off the road and held on to the wheel "Careful!"

"Oops! Sorry~" you giggled as you turned your head back "We should go on a walk to the restaurant! Maybe just a few minutes away."

"We could." he nodded "I'm just worried about your shoes. Are you sure you want to walk on cobblestones in heels, love?"

"I'll be fine! It would be so romantic and-"

"-totes not amazing!" you whimpered while you sat down outside the restaurant and Steven was kneeling down to try and fix your heels.

You two finished eating your dinners and you were still mopey about your pretty pink heels "These were the cutest kitten heels I had and I forgot these were Tommy! It's so hard to find these."

"Sorry, love. I should've stopped you harder." Steven looked up at you.

"No, Stevie. It's fine. I'm the one who insisted on having a romantic walk." you sighed "Can you get the car?"

After a few minutes, he (Jake) managed to drive the car to the restaurant where you waited and he switched to Steven before getting out of the driver's seat. You got up before tripping down because of your broken heel.

"Love, are you alright?" Steven helps you up and slip off your heels.

"I'm okay..." you took your broken heels and opened the trunk of your car, tossing it in before taking out your emergency pink fluffy slippers.

You both entered the car and drove away. It was a quiet drive as you stared straight ahead with a frown, no sign of your usually happy and cheery self present.

Steven thought he ruined it. He should've helped you with the date but instead, he just laid back and let you do whatever. He felt bad. He shouldn't, but he did. Even Marc is trying to tell him the heel wasn't his fault.

"I'm sorry, Stevie... I just wanted to have a really romantic and nice night and my heels ruined it..." you broke the silence a minute later.

"It's alright, love. You don't need to apologize. I enjoyed it anyways. All I really wanted was to be by your side..."

Your eyes lit up and the car slows down in the empty road "Really?"

"We don't even need to go out with a grand plan. Honestly, dates aren't my thing and I'm not good at it. But the times we just hang around in my flat are romantic to me." he smiled at you "Home-cooked dinner, a movie, and you."

You smiled back at him and you realized that he was the perfect man for you. You didn't want to let him go.

"What was that article again— oh, top best dates, right? A museum. Do you still want to go?"

You checked the time "Are you sure it's still open? It's already 10:43..."

"It will be." Steven held up a keychain. You kept staring at the key and he knew you didn't get it "We're gonna break in— well, not break in. I have the key, so. Not breaking in. Besides, I work there."

"Oh my gosh, Stevie!" you cover your mouth, smiling "Isn't this like, totes illegal?"

"Not if we don't get caught."

"Who are you and what did you do to Steven?" Jake laughed from the headspace. Steven ignored his comment and looked at you in the eyes.

"You know what? We've been doing what I want this whole time. Let's do it!" you drove off quickly, excited because of the idea. Steven was happy to see you smile again, and he was sure about his idea.

You parked away from the museum itself and both of you snuck to the door, Steven opening the locks with his keys. He opened it a bit and let you in. He shuts the door immediately and the museum is dark, but it amazes you.

You could still see the artifacts with the moonlight peeking in through the windows. You walked around and smiled as Steven talked about some of the artifacts in the Egypt gallery "And you work at the gift shop? Gosh. You could be a tour guide or something..."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. Totes!" your voice echoed throughout the room "I mean, you should totally apply for it or something. Those books are paying off real well."

Before he knew it, hours passed and you sat in front of a statue, making you curious "Who's this?"

"That's a Caryatid. She was a pillar used to support a roof." Steven looks at it and sits next to you "Caryatid is Greek for maidens of Caryae. She's one of six maidens, the Caryatids of Erechtheion."

"Six?" you turn to him "Where's the other five?"

"Athens from what I remember."

"While she's the only one here in London?" you stared sadly at the statue again "That's so sad... she has sisters and she hasn't been with them for god knows how long... it's so sad..."

Steven looked at you and nodded "It is..." his heart was crushed after understanding what you meant. But it did make his heart skip a beat when you cared for a statue.

"You know, if I had to steal one and give it back, would want to give her back..." you whispered, touching the base with your hand.

After that night, you didn't see Steven for two weeks. You were worried but didn't want to overstep your boundaries.

Was your date really that bad?

You missed having to step outside and see his face every day. It made you a little depressed too. It was yet another morning without Steven's greetings and you picked up the newspaper from outside your door before walking to your bed and opening it up to read the latest news.

As you were about to take a sip of your morning drink, you dropped it by accident upon seeing the article.

The Homecoming Triumph: Athens Welcomes the 6th Caryatid Statue.

UP NEXT: what happened to steven in the last two weeks?!

tags: @red-hydra @monsterroonio @pastelpinkpilatesprincess @letmehavemyfictionalmen @uncle-eggy @superduckmilkshake @3zae-zae3

[peachhcs]

moments on the ring

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

going backwards in time from a year in the future to the summer before samy's senior year, the ring camera captures all of the special moments between samy and will.

2.6k words

i was inspired by the tiktoks of couples having cute moments on their ring cameras, so i wrote this. i thought it was so cutie and it's all just scattered moments of samy and will caught on the lakehouse ring camera

au masterlist

ONE (the summer before will moves to california)

the faster july bled into august, the harder it became for samy to ever sleep. the poor girl's mind raced with a hundred thoughts about starting her next chapter: the last half of college. junior year rode in fast and so did her new captaincy for the women's soccer team.

a dream that the girl's had since she stepped onto campus was now becoming a reality in just short of a few weeks. she couldn't be more grateful, but at the same, she was now leading an entire group of girls in hopes of taking home another national title.

if they lost, it was all on her and that terrified the girl.

she curled up on the front porch steps, eyes on the sky trying to find her favorite constellations. whenever she couldn't sleep, the little hughes wandered outside and stared at the stars until someone came and found her.

usually, it'd be her mom. occasionally jack or luke. recently, though, the one person who's never left her side became the one finding the girl by herself in the late hours of the night. mostly because he'd sense her presence missing and sleepily ventured out to find her.

the front door quietly slid open giving samy the indication that someone found her. she waited for them to approach before acknowledging them. gentle hands slipped something across her shoulders making the goosebumps along her arms quickly disappear.

"found you," will's sleepy voice echoed through the stillness.

"hi, baby," samy smiled up at the blonde as he sat down beside her. the pet name earned a small flush across his cheeks while his hand immediately found a place on her knee.

"hi. can't sleep?" the boy wondered trying to wake himself up more despite everything in him wanting to crawl back under the warm covers.

"yeah. thinking too much i think," she curled herself into her boyfriend's side. his body was like a heater as his warmth spread into her, replacing the cool air swirling around her.

"wanna talk about it?"

a bit of hesitation stopped the girl from immediately opening her mouth. she knew will wouldn't ever judge her, but she almost felt..selfish for admitting being nervous for the upcoming season. he sensed her pause, so he ducked his head down to find her gaze.

"talk to me, hughesy," the blonde gave a loving squeeze so she knew he was all ears. her nickname painted a brief smile on her lips.

"i'm gonna be captain this season," samy mumbled like she didn't believe it herself and she almost didn't.

a smile grew across her boyfriend's lips, "i know. i'm so proud of you."

"what if i let everyone down?" the worries finally flew out of her mouth which almost knocked the breath out of her for admitting it aloud.

"what makes you think that?"

"i dunno. i'm scared i can't lead them to a national title again. then what? i let everyone down," samy explained what troubled her—her doubts and fears about everything going wrong under her guidance.

"even if you don't, no one's gonna hate you. this is gonna be a real good season, yeah? you're gonna take them to the finals again, i know it," will encouraged and his words surprisingly made the youngest hughes feel a lot better. he always knew how to do that somehow and samy never knew how he did it.

"it's just such a big deal. i'm scared i'm gonna fuck it all up," the girl laughed in hopes of keeping herself from crying.

"you won't. you're the best soccer player i know. not many people can rebuild the soccer program in their freshman year," will's sappy words made the brunette blush to the tips of her ears. she hid her face in his chest so he didn't see.

"you're so cheesy."

all will did was kiss her forehead in response. he ran soothing circles across her shoulder which definitely helped settle samy's anxiety. he always knew how to lift her spirits, even if it was just his presence alone.

"you leave for california in two weeks, right?" she changed the subject for now wanting to direct the attention off of her.

"yup. 13.5 days," will's voice almost sounded sad saying that. samy quickly picked up on the shift in his tone, so she shifted herself so she was looking at him.

"your official rookie year. god, i cant believe it's already here," those two years unknowingly flew by for everyone.

"is it weird i'm scared to start a new life all the way across the country from my best friends," the blonde softly wondered. samy cupped his cheek, running her thumb over his soft skin as he leaned into her touch.

"i think you're gonna do really well in san jose. they picked a good one," it was now samy's turn to be all sappy and cheesy. plus, it was only fair that she was because will did it moments ago.

"promise to come visit me?" the boy searched her gaze, one filled with love and lust. the grip on her knee tightened a bit like she'd disappear if he let go.

"i can't promise it will be during the season, but i'll really try after," they knew samy couldn't leave as freely as she did to boston. with her captaincy, she was needed and expected at every practice. not to mention, flying to california was a lot different than flying an hour to boston for a weekend.

"right. just expect a lot of facetime calls then."

their foreheads connected briefly. samy closed her eyes, letting will's sent fill her body and slowly calm her down to the point where she finally became tired. the blonde hooked his arm around her shoulders, a gentle kiss landing on her soft skin.

"wanna go back inside?" he wondered.

samy just nodded, letting will pull her up and lead them into the house. the hockey player smiled at the ring camera that he almost forgot was there knowing it just picked up every single second of that soft moment.

TWO (the summer after samy and will's first year of college)

jack sure knew how to throw a party. people packed themselves in and out of the house, wall to wall, room to room. the summer house probably hasn't ever been so full before, but jack was determined to celebrate luke making it through his rookie year and with nearly everyone in michigan, it was bound to be a good one.

samy stumbled out onto the front porch with will close behind her as they finally escaped the chaos for a few seconds. their hands were intertwined, fearing they'd lose one another in the crowd if they didn't hold onto each other. the brunette fell against the porch railing, some of her drink dripping onto the wood, a lazy smile on her lips.

"jack so would've made a great frat boy if he went to college," will chuckled, leaning himself against the railing as well.

"trust me, i know. we've told him," samy was extra giggly tonight, especially after having a few shots in her system.

the alcohol her brothers bought for the lakehouse didn't and wouldn't compare to the cheap vodka her and hannah found or begged ethan to get them (he refused most of the time anyway). whatever stuff her brother's liked buzzed through the girl's system like a race car and she became a lot more drunk a lot quicker.

the music was so loud, they could hear it from the porch. jack had old pop songs playing and time of our lives by pitbul started blaring through the speakers. samy gasped, forgetting her cup as she pulled will up to start dancing.

"i know my rent was gonna be late about a week ago," the brunette sang—or more like screamed—while swinging her boyfriend's hands around who just laughed.

"i worked my ass off, but i still can't pay it though," will joined in.

they didn't even care that they were the only ones drunk and dancing on the porch. the moment couldn't have been anymore perfect. the oldie songs brought them back to their childhood where they'd similarly scream along to the lyrics without really knowing what any of it meant.

"ooh, i want the time of my life. oh baby, oohhh," once the chorus hit, will spun samy around. she giggled nonstop while the blonde enjoyed seeing her so happy.

the best part of the song came on a few moments later. will wrapped samy up in his arms, snaking them around her waist.

"this is for everybody going through tough times. believe me, been there, done that. but everyday above ground is a great day, remember that," the two sang the verse together before the blonde pushed his lips to samy's when the chorus began again.

something about the moment was so perfect—just two teenagers enjoying themselves as they celebrated getting through their first year of college and long distance while the entire thing was captured on the oh so infamous ring camera right above the door handle.

THREE (the summer after samy and will's first year of college)

samy's heels clicked against the hardwood as she stepped onto the porch. will followed close behind, lazy and lustful smiles on each of their lips as the girl spun around to face her boyfriend. he immediately snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest. 

"thanks for driving me back. you didn't have to, you know," the brunette hummed, reaching her hand up to fix some of his misplaced curls. 

"i know, but it wasn't any problem," the blonde shrugged. 

"it is like 30 minutes out of your way. you have to be up in exactly.." her eyes gazed down at her watch, "five hours." 

will didn't even seem bothered by the fact, "i'll just sleep on the plane. whatever." 

his nonchalantness never failed to amaze the girl. will was due in san jose for a two week summer development camp with a plane to catch in seven hours, yet he was standing on samy's porch past midnight after spending a long night out with her family and then insisted to drive her back to the house before he went to his hotel closer to the airport. 

"you're crazy, you know that?" samy shook her head in amusement. 

"i am for you," will grinned, his cheesy words earning a playful eye roll. 

"god, you're so insufferable sometimes," she cupped the boy's cheeks to pull his face closer to hers, an indication that she wanted a kiss. 

"gonna miss you, pretty girl. two weeks is so long," the blonde hummed. 

"it will fly by. we did four months." 

"the worst four months of my life," being so caught up in hockey and soccer, time to see one another was pretty limited during the school year. 

summer would always be will and samy's favorite months. 

"promise to call you every night," samy beamed making the hockey player smile too. 

"you better. you're sure you can't come with me?" will always did this when one of them were leaving for long periods of time. he was desperate to get samy to follow him everywhere. 

"i wish, but you need to have your moment. one more year before you join the sharks," the girl squeezed his chin. 

"don't remind me." 

with that, samy placed her lips to her boyfriend's. his hands gripped her waist, deepening the kiss as his tongue slipped into her mouth. she tasted like strawberries—a taste the boy would never get tired of. it just made him want her even more. 

"you looked so beautiful tonight by the way," will mumbled when they broke apart for some air. 

samy's cheeks reddened, "thanks pretty boy." 

that was will's favorite pet name. he ducked his head back down to reconnect their lips. samy's hands started wandering towards will's curls, pulling gently near the nape of his neck which emitted a small sound from the back of his throat. 

"wanna kiss you forever," his hands started wandering lower until his one hand slipped over her ass in a tight squeeze. 

samy tugged harder at his curls looking for more. their need poured into each other's lips with will tugging the girl closer despite there not being anymore space left between them. 

"you two better get a room," jack's voice instantly broke them apart. 

samy spun around, her gaze zeroing in on the ring where jack just talked from. 

"oh fuck off, jack," the younger girl rolled her eyes. 

"you better be glad i was the one who looked and not dad or some shit. wrap it up before they do see anything. y'all are so gross," jack was most definitely rolling his eyes. 

"fucking idiot," samy mumbled. she turned back to will, her smile quickly returning. 

"see you in two weeks?" 

"i'll see you so soon," will planted one more kiss to her lips before heading back down the porch. he waved to the camera incase jack was still secretly watching. 

once he was back in his car, samy spun on her heel. bending down so she was eye level with the camera, "you're so annoying. i can't wait until i can annoy you and your girlfriend." 

FOUR (samy gets her acceptance to umich)

the adrenaline buzzed through the young girl as she impatiently waited for her brothers and will to come back from their fishing excursion. their last eta update was 10 minutes ago being 15 minutes away meaning they were close to home.

samy texted them saying she had big news. the piece of paper was gripped firmly in her hands, the anticipation nearly killing the poor girl. she paced diligently across the porch with almost a hundred thoughts running through her brain.

distant voices started filling her ears, head whipping towards the dock down the yard. the four of them tumbled out of the boat. "mom! they're here!" samy yelled into the screen door.

she began waving her arms above her head, wanting to catch their attention. ellen was on the porch a moment later, phone in hand to record everyone's reactions.

"guys! guys! hurry!" the brunette yelled to will and her brothers.

"what's up little hughesy?" jack wondered as he picked his pace up and samy rolled her eyes at the nickname.

she'd never escape being little hughesy since her brothers would always be hughes or hughesy. she glanced back at her mom who beamed, nodding some encouragement.

"now what's up?" luke snickered while quinn and will looked at the girl expectantly while also confused when they saw ellen recording.

samy revealed the paper from behind her back, a large smile creeping onto her lips.

"i got into the university of michigan!!" samy exclaimed, immediately jumping up and down.

the shock hit all of their faces at the same time with luke being the first one to scoop his little sister into his arms.

"holy shit!! that's awesome! is it full ride for soccer??" the middle hughes exclaimed as well.

"full ride!" the girl echoed.

jack and quinn took their turns embracing their sister as well, leaving will as the last one. he scooped his best friend into his arms, a large smile plastered across his entire face.

"jesus, you're so awesome. so proud of you, hughesy," will gushed earning a small flush across the girl's cheeks.

she giggled as he spun her around a little.

"now you gotta come to michigan with me," samy poked his chest.

"or you can come to boston," the boy proposed with his little shit eating grin.

her eyes found everyone else's before landing on the tiny camera taking in the entire moment. she ran to it, showing off her acceptance letter with the word congratulations written in big letters across the top. someone wrapped their arms around her waist and samy immediately knew it was will just based on his hold. 

the quick kiss on her cheek most definitely went unknown by everyone except the camera. samy sported a small blush before turning back to her brothers where they all continued celebrating their little sister's acceptance.